#I’m literally unfireable

[blowflyfag]

Becoming your managers plug kinda goes hard

[scientia-rex]

It’s a very weird feeling to finally, after literal decades of working towards becoming an unstoppable juggernaut, finally find myself at a point where other people are also realizing that I’m becoming an unstoppable juggernaut. But they never see the potential still remaining! They look at me where I am at now, a rural doc who can change clinic policies that affect thousands of patients by virtue of being one of a handful of docs willing to work out here, and they say, wow, it’s so great that you’re using your influence like this! And I’m sitting here going you think this is IT? You think I’m going to stop here? You really think, after all that very literal blood and sweat and tears, I’m going to say, well, that’s enough. I got one clinic to do a training. I wrote a couple of articles. I got a few doctors to reconsider their approaches. Hell no! I’m still climbing. I’m still pushing. I’m consolidating my solid ground. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and the short-sightedness of so much ambition—do you have any idea how much you hamstring yourself by it? Give yourself time! Give yourself ten years, twenty years, thirty years. Build something massive. Build a fortress that a few weak slings and arrows can’t take down. I put in the work every day since I started med school right and a half years ago, I’ve made myself virtually unfireable, and I’m still at the beginning of my career. It isn’t sexy to show up every day and do the petty and menial tasks as well as the grand ones, to eat shit from smug old white straight cis men who think having a cardiologist AND an orthopedist on a committee counts as “diversity,” to have to plan when you can cry and when you can poop to avoid making your team angry—but now I’m the fucking attending. Now I get to say, “I want it like this,” and people listen. I get to start righting some of these massive systemic wrongs—just little ones, tiny ones. But if I start working on the pipelines for rural docs, for people of color who want to be doctors, on opinion pieces that a small handful of people read, on textbook chapters used to train a new generation how to think, on residency policies, I can start chipping away at this huge edifice of Modern Medicine that once seemed impenetrably white and male and straight and cis. I trained with a trans woman who’s a doctor now. I trained with a non-binary doctor in residency. My residency class had more doctors of color than white doctors. Things ARE changing and they are changing because we MAKE them change. Because we show up every day with a ball peen hammer, like Andy Dufresne at Shawshank, and we are chiseling our way to toppling this edifice. The more I work, the longer I build up this social capital, the more people in the community I make nice with, the more I network, the bigger the changes I can make.

Years ago in residency I wrote a poem and I said “I am throwing my whole life against the glass to see it shake”—we worked on the ninth floor, with huge windows, in an oddly squalid wing—and I am still doing that. It’s wild and joyful. See what change I can make. Fling myself at it. Throw myself at the ground and miss.

[kaepop-trash]

not sure if you’re still taking requests for chance encounters but i just read the whole thing in one sitting and love it sm!!! i love your more angsty drabbles so i was wondering if you’d do one where yn and johnny are on a “break” 🥹

Give Up, Give In

There were a lot of requests for going back to the club so I'm just adding some of my favourites:

Anon: I'm just a girl standing here asking for more Johnny (CE) yearning. Make him suffer ma'am 🙏🏻 [Yes ma'am🫡]

Anon: The club is your Chekhov's Gun and it's still lying unfired on the table. [This is the best ask I've ever gotten since this account started]

Anon: Just. More. Dom. OC. [Short and sweet. How can I refuse?]

Mini Masterlist

_

I was in quite the headspace when I was writing this and you can tell. In contrast to most other things I've published, I edited this painstakingly. Somewhere in the middle I watched Casablanca again and you can actually tell where.

This is just very intense. Idk what came over me, I think the characters came back to me like past lovers do in a dream. I wrote this in a daze. I also surprisingly like this. I'm posting it with love instead of just shrugging responsibility of it. Enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Angst, Angst; A lot of references to a movie older than the Czech Republic; (There are just a lot of sexual warnings in this one girls) Smut, Voyeurism, Friction play, Light BDSM, Handcuffs and Whipping (not the main characters), Dom! OC/Sub! Johnny, Dom! Johnny/Sub! OC (They are switches in the most literal sense of the term), ribbon play (male receiving) [is that even real?], Abs riding, grinding, Dirty Talk, Degradation; Intense, INTENSE; So much angst like what was I thinking; Johnny's a bit of a babygirl in this lol idk how else to explain it; Pussy-whipped Johnny you are my #1; OC is mean, but Johnny actually likes it (He told me); A lot of misplaced anger and resentment (in a sexy way); Alcohol; Johnny has the kind of sadness in him that you only see in east european gay porn; There is some homosexual themes in this, don't forget that in this world everybody is bisexual (except Tenmin, they are full fruit loops); Bisexuality(?).

WC: 18.6 k (Honestly this can and should be read as a standalone.)

_

Her focus came in and out of the moment, mostly being drawn back by the occasional whimper or hiss that echoed loud against the cement walls.

It was a mistake coming here tonight. she knew it the moment Hyuck bought it up.

"You look lethal." Yuta crossed his arms the moment she walked into his house, equally confused and somehow proud. Beside him, Hyuck whistled. Both of them eyed her top to bottom, taking in the very nice dress she bought herself this week.

“Absolutely deadly.” Hyuck agreed, crossing his arms in front of him, “So where are we going?” He looked between the both of them.

“For dinner. A bar maybe, judging by how our friend is dressed.” Yuta mused, turning to (Y/N) for confirmation of the plan she laid out.

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” She frowned. 

“What?” Hyuck looked between both of them, confused, “We aren’t going to your club?”

Yuta chuckled, “No (Y/N) is staying away from the hallowed grounds.”

“Why?” Hyuck turned to her, looking offended. “I shaved my balls for this.”

Both Yuta and her turned to the boy, incredibly confused and horrified by the information he willingly volunteered

She cleared her throat, deciding it best to ignore it outright, “That’s none of your business, Lee Donghyuck.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I just told you I shaved my genitals and you’re bringing up personal businesses?”

“You volunteered that information.” She grimaced, wondering why she didn’t see this coming. “You can’t just go to there on a whim. There’s a list that’s fixed a week in advance.”

“Aren’t you literally friends with the owner?” Hyuck mirrored her arms.

“The owner's friends gets benefits." Yuta shrugged, "You're roped in by extension, it seems.”

The very mention of the person who was not to be named made her spine straighten, “We are not going to the club. I don’t want him to think I am in his space, I don’t want him to think I need to. It’s a horribly petty thing to do.”

“He might not be there at all.” Yuta offered.

“We are not going.” She repeated herself, looking at the both of them with a sense of finality.

They ended up at the club less than two hours later. After dinner, entering a “normal” club reminded her exactly why she stopped doing this after undergrad. She wanted to just go home but Hyuck and Yuta were both slick menaces. And now she was here.

One of the men in front of her cursed, bringing her attention back to the present. 

Her original reasoning to slip into the basement the moment she entered the club was to mitigate even the most remote possibility of being confronted by Johnny. Another part of her was overcome with intrigue once the idea materialised.

The basement was one place she hadn’t had a chance to explore. Initially, Johnny would tease her with the idea of it, but he never lived up to his own promise in that department. A couple of months in, their visits to the club reduced considerably as work got harder and their apartments got more comfortable. Then the matter was never brought up again.

Sitting in it now, she tried to imagine what Yuta meant when he compared it to the few dungeons he frequented in Amsterdam. A few with Ten even— back when he was still single of course.

The place was a lot more elegant than the floors above, divided into confined rooms that felt larger than they were owing to the incredibly tall ceilings. Unlike the rooms on the second floor though, there was no pretence. Instead of looking like hotel rooms, each room was mostly minimal. Despite the baroque display of velvets and satins, each only had one tall bench and a few chairs. The lighting was also much brighter than the intimate dimmed ones above. The lights here were yellow and brazen, nothing hid under them. The most apparent of which were the contraptions and tools displayed audaciously on the walls, ranging from curious to downright frightening. 

Despite all that attention, the rooms were also open: no door, not even a curtain to lend privacy to the inhabitants. If she was clueless about what the requirements on this floor were, taking a walk down the length of the corridor gave her the clarity she needed. 

Pain of this magnitude wasn’t something she was ready to give or receive from a stranger. But she did gather that spectatorship was a part of the experience on this floor. The chairs in most rooms had at least one person seated, watching as other people made use of the various instruments available.

That is how she ended up here.

One of the rooms seemed to be void of any onlookers. Two men occupied the bench inside, looking at each other with tender trust. She stopped at the entrance, deciding that this was the palatable option. She might even learn a thing or two, she wagered.

At first, they seemed unaffected by her presence. She pulled a chair and sat down at a considerable distance, still feeling trepidation about the intrusion. She watched as they got comfortable with each other, imagining that they met here for the first time today. They decided to trust each other despite, was what she decided. 

Sometimes she wished that was how her initial visit to the club went.

“What should we use?” One of the men asked the other, the yellow sleeves of his shirt brushing over the man's cheek. The other looked to be the one calling the shots, so she was waiting to know as well. But he surprised her, turning to look at (Y/N) instead.

Her eyes went wide for a moment, not sure why she was being acknowledged.

“Well? You’re wearing silver aren’t you?” The man asked, his hooded eyes impatient.

Oh.

Her hand went to touch the chain that Yuta had so creatively woven into her hairpin. It was supposed to be half a joke. 

Owing to the spontaneous visit, they were unaware that there was a theme tonight. It was classic movies night and none of the three were dressed for the occasion. So they decided to keep the spirit, deciding on pursuing otherwise uncustomary situations. Hyuck said he'd do anything the first person he met told him. Yuta claimed that today would be the day he pursued his favourite bartender. And she put on the silver chain and walked into the basement. A decision taken for the interesting stories it would birth. Much like this one, she relented.

She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to think of what she could possibly say.

“I don’t think–” Yellow shirt began to speak, probably sensing her panic.

“Did I ask you?” The other was quick to interject, keeping his eyes on her.

She looked at the two men carefully, the more compliant one much taller than the one clearly in charge.

“Take your shirts off.” She said first, “You’ve been rubbing against each other like kids at church. It’s pathetic.” Hooded eyes smirked, pleased to get what he was looking for.

“You heard her little boy.” He turned back to his partner, reaching out.

“You’re own clothes. Not each other’s.” She clicked her tongue, expressing her disapproval through her tone.

And that was how it began. They were excellent at following her instructions and slowly she began to take more liberties.

People came and went behind them. The first hint of another presence had surprised her. After that she started ignoring the sound of occasional shuffling. 

Except one that spoke with a voice she could not ignore. A familiar one.

__

Johnny was comfortable in his corner, pretending to listen to Ten explain the theme again.

“I was watching this movie with a friend while she was recovering from a broken leg. And it came to me!” He told yet another person, “Unfortunately, she isn’t here today.”

“What are you talking about?” One of Ten’s friends sat up at that, “I saw (Y/N) an hour ago.” She looked at Johnny for confirmation.

Johnny looked up, at least two pairs of eyes already on him. He shrugged, trying to play off his nonchalance by taking another sip of his drink.

“Babe,” The woman continued, poking the man beside her. “You remember seeing (Y/N) downstairs, right?”

Johnny snorted, “You must be confusing her with someone else.” He said with utter confidence. She would not be anywhere near him if she had the choice. Not after what he said.

“She’s in a white dress today, right?” He asked his partner, who nodded.

“Yeah, she’s downstairs. Martin told me when I went for a cocktail. I wasn't looking or anything.” He added quickly. “Don’t glare at me man.”

Johnny looked away, not realising he was. His mumbled apology wasn’t even trying to be genuine.

“There’s Yuta,” Ten raised his arm to call the man. “Let’s ask him.”

“There is no need.” Johnny groaned, but Ten ignored him with ease.

“What?” Yuta came up, looking thoroughly annoyed. No doubt being interrupted in the middle of something.

“Is (Y/N) here with you?” Ten asked.

Instead of answering, Yuta turned to Johnny. The cautious look he gave him gave him the answer he was looking for.

“Yeah.” He turned back to Ten.

“Where is she? It’s her theme tonight!” Like most other people, Yuta too did not care about Ten’s theme.

“You would not guess.” He said with a grin, sitting down with a conspiratorial chuckle.

And that's how Johnny ended up in the basement for the first time in a year. He walked past each room, looking in to find what he was looking for.

Johnny wasn’t sure what he’d even do when he found it. Would he stop her? Would he watch? Or would he leave her alone like he had himself wanted?

Johnny slowed his steps, only for a moment. Why did she have to come to the basement now? If she wanted to, why didn't she mention it to him? He thought she wouldn't like it. Or maybe he wasn't the one she wanted to share that with. That last thought was alone to add a spring to his step.

His thoughts only spurred him on as he passed more rooms without her in it. Almost crossing one, he stopped to take a few steps back. He had to be sure that the back that was facing him was the one he was seeking.

She was in white like Ten's friend had stated, a dress he never had the privilege of seeing before tonight. Head rested on her hand, she was watching someone else. He relaxed, walking further into the room. Once her side came into view, the relief that came over him seemed to piss him off. Any thought of leaving her alone evaporated with it. This was supposed to be what he wanted.

“I had to see it for myself.” He scoffed, the novelty of the situation only just coming to him. (Y/N) turned in her chair, looking up at him with surprise in her eyes. “Trying new things? You could have told me if you wanted to come down here. At least I know what your limits are. You were never the best communicator.”

“I would assume that I know my own limits best.” She turned away from him, back to the two men in front of her. Not a hint of kindness in her eyes.

He really must have said too much that night. 

One of the men sat quietly on the large wooden bench every room had, yellow shirt hanging over his shoulders, in place because his hands were cuffed behind him. The other man stood over him, a flog in his hands. His white pants matched her dress.

“Has he stopped asking for more?” She questioned the one standing. Both the men were watching her, waiting.

“Then why did you stop?” She questioned, voice impatient. “Does the little boy want something stronger?” Yellow shirt nodded like he was waiting for the question.

(Y/N) chuckled, getting up to walk to the small chest of cupboards. She leaned over, making Johnny finally notice the length of her dress— high above her knee. Pure instinct made him turn to the other people in the room, watching her with undoubtedly the same thought on their minds.

“Someone isn’t on theme.” Johnny clicked his tongue. It made the guys turn to look at him, then between the two of them.

Suddenly Johnny felt like they were the spectators, and he was the one on display with her.

“I didn’t plan on coming here tonight, so I didn’t receive the memo.” She didn’t even look at him, standing up with a thick whip in her hand.

“Eyes on me boys.” She turned to the boys, “Do you want this?” She questioned and the one meant to be on the receiving end nodded eagerly. 

She chuckled, walking over to them and handing the tool over. 

“Such an obedient boy, aren’t you?” She cooed, hand on his chin. Yellow shirt nodded enthusiastically. Giving in to her so easily that it nauseated Johnny. That would get them nowhere.

Keeping her eyes on his face and her fingers stroking his cheek, she handed the whip to the other guy.

“Start slow. You’re being too hostile.” She turned to the man with a warning.

“He likes it.” He defended, her hooded gaze remained bemused.

“I’m the one who’s calling the shots, am I not?” She raised a brow. The man swallowed, giving her a quick nod. As complaint as his companion.

This was no fun.

Johnny scoffed rather loudly, but she ignored him and as a consequence, the boys ignored him as well.

“What will you tell me you'd do?” She continued, focused on the man.

“I will listen and follow instructions.”

“Like a what?”

“Like the slut I like to pretend I’m not.” 

She smiled, letting the one in yellow go to run a hand through this one’s hair. He closed his hooded eyes to enjoy the feeling.

“Good. Now do what you’re told.” He nodded and she let go, turning around to walk back to where she was.

Her eyes met Johnny’s finally.

“Can I help you?” She asked him, the tyrannical tone bleeding into the question. Johnny’s cock twitched for the first time that evening.

“You can start by reminding yourself who you’re speaking to, pet. Or do you need assistance?” Johnny tongued his cheek, shoving his restless fingers into his pocket.

She looked at him with disbelief for a moment. When she rolled her eyes, he was sure she was taunting him.

“You can keep your reminders to yourself.” She rubbed her hands together, “I didn’t come here to play with you.”

“Why are you here at all?” Johnny raised a brow, unable to hide the vexation in his voice. Why didn't she tell him she wanted to come to the basement?

It earned him the first flash of anger in her, so far, apathetic gaze. “I didn’t realise you were marking territory? Am I barred from coming here now?”

“I was asking a question.” He took in a cautious breath, realising that she thought he meant the club. Perhaps, the alternative made him look less bothered. 

“Can't you see?” she pointed at the two boys, “I'm simply minding my own business. Why have you come down here? Looking for me?” She leaned against the head of the chair she was seated in before, waiting for his response.

Johnny let out a humourless laugh, “Who said I was looking for you?”

“I haven’t known you to come to the basement before.” She pointed.

“Just because I haven’t come here with you, doesn’t mean I’m a stranger to the place."

The words did what they were intended to do, her anger flared with an inhale she tried to play off. Johnny had to bite down his smile.

“Okay, be on your way then.” She flicked her hand towards the exit, dismissing him. "There are other rooms."

Johnny took a step towards her instead, “I stopped at this one because I could not believe you could be a watcher. I wanted to see for myself."

“She told you to leave man, why are you ruining our night?” The boy in yellow whined, making Jaehyun turn to find both men watching the exchange. The other one kept his eyes on Johnny.

She turned to meet his gaze, “Did I say you can speak?” She questioned. The boy gulped, shaking his head. “If you’re that impatient then get on with it. I didn’t say you can stop.” He nodded, turning back to the man in white pants with a demand, his eyes still watching Johnny. He looked familiar.

Johnny whistled and hissed, bringing her attention back to him. “Look at you. Even I almost believe that look on your face. What’s wrong, baby? You sound mad.” He cooed, mocking her.

“What’s wrong is that you’ve sauntered in here to ruin my night.” She failed to hide her frown.

"Ruin?" Johnny's voice raised in taunt. "I'm sorry to disturb your little pageant. You must have been enjoying just how easy this was before I walked in. They're eating up your every word, you must be elated."

Her jaw flexed and Johnny had to resist the urge to close the gaping distance between them.

"If you're done with your tantrum. You can leave now." She aimed her gaze at the door, a single and final order. It was Johnny's turn to flex his jaw. Tantrum.

"If you think this is a tantrum then what should we call your fucking fits?" He clamped his jaw the moment he heard the edge in his voice.

"We don't have to call them anything." Her volume rose, taking a step forward, daring him to continue.

"There it is." He smiled victoriously, "Why don't you stomp your foot while you're at it. Let's show everybody what you're really like under this act."

He could see the way she got blinded by her rage. For him he realised, that was something only he was capable of pulling out of her.

He should have backed off but Johnny stayed pinned in place, momentarily consumed by his sick desires to always get a rise out of her. He knew she wanted it too, her breathing hitched but eyes stayed glued on him. It was deranged but this is what he has signed up for with her.

“Fine," She said after a well contemplated silence. Johnny's lips quirked, knowing he was right as usual. Finally she was going to give in to him. For once. "Take off your chain and I’ll give you what you want.”

His smile faltered, brows furrowing. He regained himself quickly, reminding himself that he was being foolish to believe it would be that easy. Not after he was the one who told her they'd be taking a break. Not after the unnecessary things he'd said.

It was a silly thing that he regretted the moment he proposed it. But the tone she had ignored him for no reason still made his blood boil. At least he had the decency to lay down his intentions in front of her. She had absolutely no right to be angry. And yet, she was furious at him. It was evident in how she refused to so much as look at him since he had made the proposition, acting like he wasn't even there. Refusing to share an elevator, refusing to bring papers to his office.

He wanted to be civil but she went to great lengths to stay out of his path. Even reminding him that he wanted this when he asked her why she was sending interns with tasks that were done easier without the middleman.

It was infuriating and it only offended Johnny further. Even now, he was the one to come here with his pride between his legs. He told himself that he would not give in till she relented first. 

“And what is it that I want, Kitten?”

“What you always want.” She turned to walk back to her chair, pulling the object closer to him, letting it grate against the cement floor harshly. “Me.”

Johnny's teeth against each other. Taking his hands out of his pocket, he folded his arms. No, it was her turn to give in.

“I will give you what you want if you take that chain off.” He pointed at her head.

“What I want is for you to leave. If you can’t do that, I will have to abandon my new friends.” She pointed behind her.

They reached a stalemate with her words, silently sizing each other up. In the back, the boys had forgotten about the commotion all together. The sound of clicking locks signalled the introduction of the bondage frame. The next sound was the clean crack of a whip, followed by a harsh inhale once it touched skin. Johnny took in a sharp inhale himself, the sounds tempting him.

“What good will taking mine off do?” Johnny spoke through raspy breathing, “You give up too soon anyway. You don’t know how to be in charge.” Another slash echoed against the walls, this time Johnny exhaled slow. “You only know how to be a brat.”

Despite his words, she smiled, watching him shift on his feet. “Two weeks without being inside me and you’re already forgetting things.”

“Has it been that long already? I didn’t even notice.”

“Sure. The last time you went this long, you were throwing tantrums like this.”

It was Johnny’s time to be racked with anger, his exhale slow, dangerous.

The whips increased in frequency and moans filled the large roam, bouncing across the walls with urgency.

“Go slow.” She lashed, turning her attention back to the couple.

“Sorry." Both of them said together, the one whipping dropped his arm. The other opened his glazed eyes.

Johnny should have brought (Y/N) to the basement himself.

“Sorry what?”

“Sorry, miss.” They said in tandem.

Johnny scoffed, “I never realised what a good teacher I was.”

“What do you fucking want?” She turned back to him, lips twisted with irritation. “You wanted a break, didn't you? What was it that you said?” She finally sat down, leaning back and crossing her legs. “That’s right. “You wanted a change. What happened, are you bored already?"

"No," Johnny shrugged, unclasping his arms from his chest to walk towards her. "I just wanted to see what you were doing with your free time. It's such a pity to see you waste it. The only person bored here is you apparently." This time he did smile, enjoying the way she averted her gaze, "So I came to offer you a game just for tonight."

"Not interested. You need to come up with better excuses."

Johnny hummed like he didn't believe her, shadow falling over his entire form as he came closer. Her brows knit, gearing up to defend the truth. He cut her off before she could even speak.

"Stand up." He ordered, stopping his stride only when his knee touched the chair.

She blinked, practically rendered silent by his audacity. What pissed her off more was how she almost did it, the chair audibly screeching back before she could reign her instincts in.

(Y/N) crossed her arms, mirroring his stance from earlier as she sat back to play off the slip, pretending she was just trying to sit back.

She knew it didn't work when Johnny smirked. She was busy preparing herself for when he asked again, to stand her ground with more conviction. Instead, he leaned down, kneeling in front of her. The act was in sharp contrast to his previous words, giving her whiplash and leaving her out of depth.

His fingers brushed her dress, staring at her lap in a way that made her think he would rest his head against it. It was a thought that had no place in the given circumstances. Slowly he looked up with a tender gaze that was equally out of place.

"What game do you have in mind?" She asked, mostly to distract herself from the way her heart leapt when she met his eyes. After all this time, he still had the ability to make her feel so excruciatingly timid.

"It's movie night." His voice was soft, "Let's pretend to be different people." He ran his tongue over his cheek.

She wasn't sure what to make of the statement. After all this time he never stopped being an enigma.

"Who are you dressed as?" She looked down at his white shirt, making a note of the undone bowtie, "Roger Moore as James Bond?"

"I prefer Sean Connery."

She took the bowtie between her fingers, "You don't have his raw sexual magnetism."

Johnny's lips twitched and she couldn't help the way her own mirrored it.

"If we're going to be playing parts," She sighed, not entirely sure how he'd managed to lure her in. Then again, she was always too ready to give in to him, "Let's play ones different from who we really are. Something to keep this night out of our," She failed to hide the sliver of indignation in her deep inhale, "Current situation."

Johnny licked his lips, looking somewhere between amused and rattled. Yet again, she was stunned by his audacity.

"In that case, I have the perfect thing." He took her hand in hers, bringing it up to kiss her palm. This time her indignated inhale came before a pained exhale.

He came closer instead of finishing his thought, leaning till their noses touched. 

"Let's pretend we're in love."

Her eyes froze over in an instant, a foreign gasp making her turn back to the people who were now spectators to her vulnerability. Both of them watched with bated breaths, their own preoccupations long forgotten. They watched her, waiting for her response.

She pushed Johnny without looking at him. Predictably, he did not budge. When it happened the third time she did turn back, liquid rage dripping from her glare. Her mind mulled over a response multiple times, the sort of words that would express her outrage without hinting at her agony. It fell short, not finding the right ones to express how deeply unkind his words were. Not without betraying her closely guarded secret.

He was still close to her, close enough to let her count the lashes that framed his amber eyes, to see the stray one that fell on his cheek. This close it was easy to see that he was the most beautiful man on earth, easy to forget everything and just fall an inch closer. It was easy to want nothing more than to press her lips against his, to forget they were meant to be apart. This close she didn't need to pretend to be in love.

"Oh god." She heard Yuta's voice, cutting through the haze of lust that began to overcast her decisions. "(Y/N)." He marched up to them.

Only when she heard his footsteps stop beside did she turn from Johnny.

"Let's go, babe." He pointed his thumb at the door, whistling to play off the urgency.

She turned back to Johnny, who had moved back a few inches now. Miles, as far as their usual proximity was concerned.

She sighed, pushing her chair back.

"What do you need (Y/N) for?" Johnny asked casually.

"I need to keep her away from you." Yuta clicked his tongue, laughing awkwardly when Johnny turned to frown at him. "Nothing personal, buddy. She made me promise I would." He pointed at her.

Johnny turned to her, raising a brow. Waiting for confirmation.

"Don't bother. My instructions are to take her away whether she likes it or not. You know how crazy our (Y/N) is." Yuta chuckled like he was making small talk. She got out of her chair with a loud screech.

"Let's go." She grabbed Yuta's arm to turn him around, "I need a fat drink."

"You need a fat something." He scoffed, knowing himself that he deserved the smack she landed on his arm

"At least try to think before you speak sometimes." She groaned.

"Just tell her man." One of the boys spoke up, reminding Johnny of their presence. It was the one in yellow, his brows furrowed in deep thought. His companion scoffed, shaking his head.

"Did anybody say you can stop whipping?" Johnny raised a brow at the guy with the object in his hand. "Did you tell him to stop?" He asked the one tied up. Both shook their heads.

"In that case, you need to focus on your own endeavours." Johnny stood up from the floor, brushing the dirt of the knees of his good pants. "Enjoy your night."

As he turned to walk away, the sound of a whip cracked through the silence.

__

(Y/N) seemed to find more than a few merits in the basement. On top of being less crowded, the basement bar also housed some interesting liquor choices. A tequila bottle with a worm and some Baiju with an entire snake sat side by side on the shelf at eye level. While she would not be trying them, she could respect Ten's sense of humour.

Yuta also swore that this was the bar with the best cocktails. Martin, the bartender, was a legend on the premises if her best friend's claims were true. Patrons would sometimes grace the floor to only stop for a drink. She was sufficiently intrigued.

Nails tapped against the stone surface of the bar as they waited for the cocktails in question. She also waited for Yuta to speak, getting impatient and agitated from his stare.

"I just don't understand why you keep doing this." He huffed. Never one to express any overt opinion on the matter, she was caught off guard by his frustration. "If you really want to stay out of his way then do it."

"I'm trying. He came to me."

“You and I both know that you can enforce a boundary when you want to.” He groaned, looking away like the whole thing was making him uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t want to sit here and act like I can give you any real advice. I just want to ask you if you’re sure about what you’re doing.”

She could never lie to Yuta, not in a convincing way at least. She stopped tapping her nails, rubbing her fingers together and watching the bright lights above reflect on her nails.

“I know what I'm supposed to be doing. What it’s supposed to be like.” She mumbled the confession, spotting a chip in her nail enamel. “But it’s confusing with him. Everything is confusing with him.” Teeth ground against teeth as she let the words wash over her. She needed a manicure. She needed to stop doing this to herself.

"This has started to feel self-inflicted to me." Yuta assessed with accuracy.

"It needs to end." She spoke, the words rattling her to the core.

It was the only way left now.

"Then do it? What exactly are you waiting for?" Yuta raised a brow, making it blatant that he was baiting her.

Her lips parted, answer ready on her lips. She bit her tongue the next moment, putting the thought away.

"How do you just expect him to notice that you're this in love with him when you put so much effort into hiding it?"

She looked up at him fast, "I’m not–"

"Spare me, (Y/N)." He cut her off, "The only person who can't tell is the man himself. And that’s only because he’s too busy being in love with you.”

“Stop.” She shook her head, “That just isn’t true.”

“Are you stupid?”

“Fuck off, Yuta. You don’t know all of it. You’ve seen him be nice, you’ve seen him take me to the orthopaedic’s, seen him get me drinks. But you don’t know how he is. If Johnny loved me, he would say it.”

“Like you say it?” His brows furrowed, looking angry. She had never seen Yuta angry at her.

“It’s not the same.” She took a deep breath, her lungs fracturing from the force. A sound of wood cracking filled the air, followed by the laughs of multiple people. She turned back to see the cause of the commotion. Someone shouted that a bench broke, followed by a reassurance that everybody was fine.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yuta spoke after, “You keep torturing the guy because you don't know what to do about how you feel. And you torture yourself because you don't want to make a decision." Yuta paused, giving a sympathetic sigh. "I love you, but it's not fair, you know that. He drops everything for you, I can’t believe you don’t see how he lets you toy with him. He’s always at the mercy of your whims and he doesn’t even mind it. Do you want to be the kind of person who does that to someone? He’s a decent guy."

She knew he was right. But he also didn't know all of it. 

"I don't want to torture him." She admitted, keeping her eyes fixed on the white bar top, “He's always trying to get a rise out of me and I just,” She paused to sigh, yet again feeling confronted by her own state. These were things she’d never said before. “So I give him what he wants, a fair fight. I don't know how this ended up being the kind of thing where we keep pushing to see how far it can go.”

Yuta frowned, visibly bothered by the notion. She couldn't blame him. It seemed to be like this all the time now. Both of them looked for reasons to fight lately, like they were testing to see who would get up and call it off first. Loving him made her angry and picking fights made it easier to pin that anger on the right target. He had begun to find her frustrating as a result.

"Why not just talk it out? It can't be worse than it is now?" Yuta questioned.

About this, he would be wrong. She knew Johnny too well by now. He would try to play it off, say that they can give it a shot without meaning it. Johnny was used to being admired, he would never understand its intensity. He would take it as easy as he took most things and it would ruin her.

"I think," She paused, looking up at the ceiling with a groan. "I'm not afraid of rejection. If he said no it would hurt, but I'd move on." She looked back down at her friend with a heavier heart. "What I'm afraid of is that he would say yes without meaning it. He's okay with everything. If I asked him for a relationship he'd say okay, if I ask him I never want to see him again he'd say okay too. If I asked him for the real thing I'd want it to work. But I don't know what he wants." 

She sighed, thinking about how complacent he was about everything. When she decided to ignore him on a whim he left it alone, when she decided to spend the last week of her recovery at Yuta's he was okay with it. He was okay with her sleeping with Doyoung and when she told him they don't anymore he was okay with that too.

"Johnny is just always okay with everything." She spat the words, before she sighed again. "I know that's not fair I just–" She paused again, entirely lost on what she even wanted. "If he loves me, he does a terrible job showing it."

“Oh,” Yuta said. To his credit, she could tell that he was trying to understand. “That does sounds complicated.”

That was what finally made her laugh. Complicated was exactly what she’d spend her entire life avoiding. It was why she spent her weekends with her friends and why she was insistent on keeping things casual with Johnny.

She nodded in agreement, a pitiful smile lifting her lips. "I'm ready to take all of it too. That's how afraid I am to be without him. I keep playing his games and I keep making new ones. Hoping it will keep him interested. Hoping that for once he'd say more than okay. Even if it was a no." She groaned, once again angry at herself.

"What happened to you?" Both of them laughed, her face scrunching.

"I don't know, man. I've tried so many times to figure out how I let a person rattle the peace I’ve spent my entire life protecting. A man who could replace me without any effort."

"No one can replace you." He sounded offended.

She scoffed, mostly finding his reassurance touching.

"I get that you're moping, but you make no sense." Yuta's brows furrowed, "He's wrapped around your fingers."

"That's just because I keep him on his toes." She shrugged, "To overthrow predictability is to strive for more compelling experiences." She repeated the words Johnny had said to get once, the words leaving her tongue bitter. 

Yuta tapped his knuckles on the bar with a frustrated groan, pointing an accusatory finger at her. " I told you to not play fuck monopoly. You've gone and turned it into a tournament." Yuta groaned, knocking his shoulder against hers.

"I should have listened to you.” She admitted, lips twitching when Yuta looked surprised at the confession. “Sometimes I wish it wasn't so combative. If I wasn't so afraid of losing him every second he's with me, then maybe I'd love him without fighting it all the time."

The words left her heavier than she imagined, wishing she really could do it. When she wasn't so busy fighting it with all her might, she knew that loving him was worth all of the things it came with.

"You can just love him." Yuta's words made her close her eyes in denial, "Everybody is at the risk of being lost, no? Nobody comes with a guarantee, why should he? I could have a heart attack tonight while having the best sex of my life and you will never see me again. You don't fight our friendship? Why fight this?"

She looked up a little at loss, unnerved by the wisdom Yuta suddenly imparted.

"What?" He asked.

"I can't believe you just live, laugh, loved this." She snorted. Despite everything, she felt more grateful for Yuta now than she ever had before. "I appreciate this. Really, you are my ride or die." She gave his hand a squeeze.

"Aw, you're so sentimental. Do you still want me to keep you away from Johnny?"

"Yes."

Yuta sighed, "I guess I was also being too optimistic expecting you to change overnight. Think this through when you can."

"I will." She promised.

"That's good enough for me."

_

Leaning against the bar, head resting on her palm, she took in another deep sigh. (Y/N) had lost count of how many it had been. A deep melancholy had settled in her bones and it could neither be shaken off nor be cured.

"What can I get you?" The bartender came up to her.

Her order came to the tip of her tongue like it was second nature, a glass of whatever red was the best. But she stopped herself when she realised that it was Johnny's second choice, not hers. Then she thought to ask for a whiskey but immediately realised that it was Johnny's first. Maybe making a simple decision shouldn't be so complicated.

"A gin and tonic for the lady, Martin. The one you make with the lavender gin." Johnny spoke as he took the seat in front of her. "Since she walked into my gin joint of all places."

The words made her finally realise what he meant to dress as, a humorous smile tugging at her lips. 

It had been a while since she'd seen him properly. Johnny had spent most of the past few weeks on a work trip, spending the remainder of his time on the recording floor. The rest, she took the effort of being out of his way, taking his need for a break to heart. A break from her, he meant. It was the least she could do.

Right now, in the depths of her despair and with two glasses of two different liquors in her, she allowed herself a good look.

To her misfortune, he looked as he always did. As breathtaking as the first day she walked into this club. He was different behind these walls too; always at ease, not exhausted, not burdened by the condition of his position. In here Johnny was always just a man.

She seemed to understand then. He wanted a break to get back to this, to be carefree and fun. Without the predictability and bitterness that had settled into what they had. Her fingers squeezed the edge of the bar.

Johnny ran his index finger over the rim of his glass, mixing the sound with the tapping of his shoe— making some unknown melody. The action brought her attention to the flicker on his wrist, from where hung a single gold chain. Her eyes wandered to his collar, where the silver chain from earlier was missing.

"What brings you here, Miss?" He sat back in his chair, his eyes sparkling under the sparse lights.

She took a moment, taking his words in. His question was an open ended request. She could be anybody she wished right now, say whatever she wished. She could be carefree and fun, be as unpredictable as she liked. 

She could make him stay.

"A miscalculation. I thought it would be an enjoyable night. Yet I'm stuck making boring small talk with a man who thinks he can order drinks for me." She couldn't help the words, the anger from before still remaining. If he wanted time away from her then why did he keep coming in her way? Why did he make it hard for her to walk away from him?

She could be anybody at that moment. Yet, (Y/N) chose to be herself.

Johnny's eyes danced with embers, tongue darting out to lick his eager lips. He chose to be himself too.

"My apologies, Miss." He tipped his head, not meaning it in the slightest.

"You seem to know my tastes." She picked the drink up once Martin placed it in front of her, giving him a quick smile.

"I am a man of many talents." Johnny answered.

"I was talking to the bartender, Sir." She turned to him, nose raised high. Martin chuckled, apologising to Johnny almost immediately after he could. The title was meant to mock the one he used for her. Yet the very formation of the word on her tongue reminded her that it was a word between people they were trying to run away from at the moment.

Johnny's lips twitched and she couldn't tell what it implied, what he was reacting to.

"What brings you here?" She asked, humouring him at last.

"To this place?"

"To me."

Johnny chewed his bottom lip, clearly a little frustrated at her adamant need to be difficult. In truth, she couldn't be sure why she was being like this either. But Johnny liked when he was cornered, rendered retortless. And the distress marked so clearly across his face made the depths of her belly twist in a way it hadn't in weeks.

"Do you gamble?" She asked him, once again steering the conversation away from the dead ends she sent them into herself.

"I did once, lost everything I had."

"That must have been hard. My condolences to you."

"It doesn't matter to me. At least we'll always have Paris." He gave her a smile that was uncharacteristically warm. It pulled her out of the act, reminding her of what she was missing.

(Y/N) remembered making Ten and Johnny watch the movie. One of her all time favourites, she had warned him when he complained about the cliché premise. She knew that was why he was doing this. She just couldn't tell if it was out of spite or affection.

"My husband is waiting for me upstairs. I must go to him." She stood up, breath catching in her throat when he caught her wrist.

"Your husband is gambling."

"My husband doesn't gamble."

"We all gamble, my love."

She jerked her hand out of his hold, the words stinging her like a live wire. Sucking in her teeth she couldn't help the way her face twisted, seething.

"You will be back." Johnny sat back, face neutral.

"Why would I?" She tapped her hand on the bar, lifting her drink into her free hand.

"Because we all have something at stake." He let her hand go, eyes shifting with sorrow. She wondered if he'd always been such a good actor.

__

Johnny played her face over in his mind so many times that he hoped it would dull the pang in his chest. Could it really be that bad? Did she hate the idea that much? Was being in love with him that unpleasant a thought to her?

He groaned, sitting up on the sofa. The sound earned his friends attention, Ten turning to him with a particularly impatient gaze. He looked ready to say something.

"Can you just–" He began, his husband's hand coming up to stop him.

"Johnny needs another drink." Taemin gave Ten a warning look, turning to Johnny after. "There's a good Japanese whiskey out today." He offered with a smile, pitying him.

Johnny wanted to scoff, but he was aware that he had successfully over wrung everybody's patience. So he nodded and got up to leave.

He realised that he had become the reason he avoided the fancies of things as tedious as love, sitting here by himself drowning his aching sorrows in alcohol too expensive to be drunk so copiously. Just like the movie he had made fun of, Johnny was yet again a cliché.

"This needs to stop." He mumbled to himself, not remotely drunk enough to pull half the antics he did tonight.

Johnny had always believed that he’d find love when the time was right. He never sought it out because he believed that these things happened on their own. The fact that he spent the entirety of his twenties building his company was something he was proud of. He didn’t believe he had wasted the time.

In truth, Johnny had spent his entire life working towards something. Too occupied to ever feel loneliness in the way it was perhaps meant to be experienced. Which was probably why he wasn’t prepared for it. Love had finally found him and Johnny was plunged headfirst into wanting something that he failed to work towards. There was nowhere to go. What he wanted was right in front of him. He just didn’t have the courage to grab it.

He heard the hesitant intake of breath he’d recognise anywhere. The sound dragging him out of his musings.

"You were right." Her words pierced through his thoughts.

Johnny halted the urge to whip his head immediately at the sound.

"Are you here to finally gamble?" He spoke to his glass. She came around to stand in front of him, shaking her head.

Her hand reached out, moving the few stray strands off his face, When he flinched at the touch, she retreated her fingers quickly. 

"You aren't the only one to have lost everything in Paris." She spoke carefully.

He sighed, the sound more like the wince of hot sand when it finally rained. Looking up, his eyes met her vulnerable ones, the ones he’d keep making the same stupid mistakes for. The ones he'd happily run into a million dead ends for.

Johnny put his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She didn't fight it and he was sure that his relief was written across his face as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Who are you really?” He sighed.

“We said no questions.” She sighed along with him; caressing his hair, playing his game.

"We have to stop doing this to each other. To ourselves." He let the liquor speak for him, soaking up the courage it came with. Johnny took a breath, telling himself to take the leap; to say what he needed to say, to ask for what he yearned to have.

Her hand landed on his arm, squeezing. “Johnny.” Her whisper trembled past her lips.

“Hmm?” He said with incredible caution, squeezing her tighter and bringing her closer. Slowly he opened his eyes, waiting for her to speak.

“Let me go. I don't like this game anymore.” She tried to get away from his hold.

Johnny’s brows furrowed, “What?” He breathed out, not expecting that. He was being serious, he needed to speak before he lost his nerve.

“Just,” She huffed. “Move. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” She hit his shoulder when he didn’t listen.

“You came to me.” He reminded her.

“Yes, and now I want to go.” She grit her teeth. “Please.” She pleaded, practically whimpered in pain, and his hands relaxed the very next moment, letting her go.

“Whatever, (Y/N). I’m tired of this.” He turned away from her.

Despite her earlier insistence, she faltered. He could see her watching him from the corner of her sight, hesitating. Just as he turned to call her out on it, or to finally ask (he wasn't sure), a voice called his name. Both of them turned.

“Hey Johnny,” It was Jessica, the model. “Can you come with me for a moment?”

Johnny turned his gaze to look at (Y/N), finding her jaw gritted and eyes fixed on the girl. His lips quirked despite himself, tongue sliding over his lower lip as it lifted.

“Sure.” He sat up, “I was done here anyways.” He stood up from his seat.

_

“What?” Johnny stopped in front of Ten. If the way he snapped didn’t betray his irritation, he hoped his face did. “Why did you send Jessica to call me?”

Ten turned to Johnny, taking in the apparent displeasure with a frown of his own.

“Yuta mentioned that he’s meant to keep the two of you apart. I thought I would add to the effort.” Ten shrugged.

Johnny ran her hands through his hair, “Okay.” He groaned, sounding anything but. “But why did you send Jessica?”

“She was passing by and she knows you.”

“Yeah but now (Y/N) thinks–” He paused, exhaling in a way that sounded like another groan. “Nevermind. Did you even want anything?”

“Not really.” Ten smacked his lips, “If I avoided all the people you’ve slept with in my club then I would have had to go call you myself.”

“You should have since you’re so passionate about this. (Y/N) can make her own decisions, just leave it alone.” He flicked a pillow from behind Ten, making the guy fall back into the sofa.

Ten turned around, eyes laced with intention.

“You’re a coward Johnny.”

“Ten.” Taemin cautioned but his conviction did not falter.

“You need to grow up and have a real conversation with the girl you love.” He continued, giving his best friend a pertinent look. “You’re just punishing yourself and that girl for no reason.” His face softened for a moment, looking like he was pitying Johnny. “Sometimes we ruin things beyond repair by letting it be.”

“You need to,” Johnny took a step closer, “Leave it alone.” It was a plea, partially because he knew Ten was right.

“He’s right.” Taemin interjected, “You can’t meddle in his matters.”

"I'm not meddling." Ten hissed at his husband, "I'm tired of watching my best friend wallow in a misery of his own making." He looked at Johnny, "It won't go away if you ignore it. And it won't change till you do something about it. So why?" He asked.

Johnny rubbed his hand over his face, not in his right mind or place to have this conversation. “You don’t get it.” He said with a lost voice.

“You have to do something, Johnny. Do you expect to live in limbo?” Ten added.

He expected her to deal the death blow. Something he would not say out loud. This entire time he had expected— practically hoped— that she would be the one who would have left by now. He would have accepted it, he would have swallowed it as an inevitable, and he would have taken solace in having been right from the start. That she would get bored of him.

He had been so sure of it that he wasn't prepared for this. He hadn't accounted for ever making it this far.

Johnny nodded to Ten, a silent promise. His friend was right, no matter how much it pissed him off. Johnny knew he would at least have to make a decision soon.

__

(Y/N) walked away from Johnny with cold hands. This was it, her steps faltered. She walked as far away as she could. All the preparation she had done for that exact moment had evaporated with his words. She couldn’t believe that she ran away like she did, only delaying the inevitable.

He was ready to do it, she could feel it in her bones. She could read it all over his face.

I’m tired of this.

That was the exact indifference to the matter she had feared most of all.

Whatever.

It was like being stabbed by a rusted knife— messy and unnecessary in its cruelty.

Whatever, (Y/N).

Her head hurt, she pushed through to get deeper into the club. To somewhere she could not be found. She needed to prepare herself better for this. She was afraid she’d beg him to say, afraid she’d cry. This wasn't the place or the state of mind she needed to be in for this.

Whatever.

She took a deep breath. No, she needed to prepare herself better.

She couldn’t believe that he would do it here. And he would have. Her exhale came out irate, he would have held her in place and told her he was tired of her.

He would have finished the thought had it not been for the model. Miss belly button herself. Her next breath came out utterly furious.

She was tired of this too, she coaxed herself. Tired of being stuck in limbo with the most elusive man she could have possibly laid hands on. She was tired of loving him too, she lied to herself.

She stopped, realising that she was in the emerald alcove. Yuta’s favourite corner. It was a cosy spot lined by arches that circled the area, littered with chairs that were closer together. Each arch had large and thick curtains that were never drawn, but nonetheless served as a visual policy that added to the sense of seclusion it was meant to emulate.

It was also the part of the club where Johnny had fucked his blonde companion on that night. 

(Y/N) shoved the thought out of her head as fast as it emerged. The first order of business would be to stop thinking about him all the damn time.

She picked up her drink from the bar, a sweet and potent cocktail this time, her kind of drink. Looking around to find a corner to sit in, her eyes landed on a man at the bar. One she recognised. One of the guys from the basement. The rough one with hooded eyes.

"The glasses really change your face." She sat down on the bar stool beside the one he occupied. The man looked up, surprised to see her.

"Usually people tell me how used to my glasses they are, that my face feels empty without them," He smiled to himself. "But I suppose we met under extraordinary circumstances." He tapped his glass, still giving her an odd look.

"You look disconcerted by the memory." She pursed a smile.

"Not particularly, I just didn't think I'd see you again. I'm a little surprised in all honesty." He commented.

"It's a small world." She shrugged.

"It's an even smaller guest list."

This time she did smile.

"I do finally understand why new faces are such a sensation around here." She continued into a new territory, enjoying the confusion on his face.

"Isn't it so?" He snapped back into a casual retort almost immediately. "It gets awkward really fast when everybody is a friend of a friend."

"Speaking of, where's your friend?" She looked around, wondering if he was close.

The guy smiled, almost like he was expecting it. "Why? Would you prefer his company to mine?"

She looked back, "I'm just curious." Her shrug was noncommittal.

"He must be around here somewhere." The man shrugged back, equally evasive. "We aren't friends, we just fuck sometimes. These big, important men and their secret need to be in the palm of someone's hand." He told her like she somehow knew what he was talking about.

She gave him a puzzled look that made him chuckle. 

"I thought Johnny Suh used to wear copper as a joke." This time he steered the conversation into new waters, "But you, I always knew were the silver type." He pointed a finger at her, more victorious than accusatory.

"Nonsense." She laughed.

"You're a natural. I knew it on the day the man spent the entire evening on the floor with your foot in his lap."

"I," She paused, stunned at the mention of the day. From the perspective of a virtual stranger nonetheless. "I can't believe you saw that." She blushed, the memory coming back. It was a joke, something they did to see how their friends would react. It never occurred to her before now how it might look to an onlooker.

"Small pool." He shrugged, "When I first started coming here, I had my eyes on him. But it's easy to tell that he's not the surrendering type. So when I saw that, I couldn't help but have my eyes on you."

She was surprised by the easy confession, an effortless breeze .

"Did I live up to your expectations or was it disappointing?" She questioned, playing her surprise off as flirtation.

"Yes and no." The man smiled, pushing his specs higher up. "On one hand I've finally solved the mystery that is Johnny Suh."

"Oh.” She stopped to wonder if she should ask him to elaborate, thinking against it immediately after. “And on the other?" She asked instead.

"I really wish you did more than just watch."

Her mouth opened with evident surprise, the words so easily said. An absolute and uncomplicated request. The man laughed, clearly enjoying the surprise on her face. It made her snap back.

"Maybe in a few months, we can get back to this." She half joked.

"Months?" He winced, "Are you going on a trip?" He sniggered.

She smiled, not willing to elaborate any further.

"Something to look forward to nonetheless." He raised a glass, "I think your usual is waiting for you." He pointed over her shoulder, making her turn.

Her usual was sitting on one of the sofas, at a considerable distance. She wouldn't even have noticed him without the prompt.

"Well, your glasses work for sure." She squinted. "Trying to get rid of me?" She asked while trying to gauge Johnny's expression. She was unfortunately not wearing her own glasses.

The man laughed, "No, I just believe that some things are best left unbreached." His voice was careful.

She turned back, "And here I thought you were flirting with me."

"Oh I absolutely am. I just have different tastes. Also best left unencroached." He licked his lips.

Her eyes fell on the movement, "I have ears and an open mind." She looked up deliberately slow.

"I don't know, will you just using me to make a point?" He teased, eyes darting behind her.

"You don't seem to mind being used."

His cheeks turned red and it made her lips twitch. She had been denying herself the extent of what the club had to offer, (Y/N) realised.

The man's eyes went behind her again just as she heard shuffling. She rolled her eyes to the heaven's themselves. Eventually, she'd tire of Johnny's predictable antics. Maybe then she'd tire of her own too.

"Is she bothering you again?" Johnny put a hand on her waist, effortless and clear in its intention.

"We were just getting to know each other." The man smiled.

She realised that she hadn't caught his name yet.

"Are you finally socialising?" The question was blatantly aimed at her. But she pretended not to understand, turning to call the bartender over instead.

"A repeat?" The server pointed to her glass but she shook her head.

"Water."

"Time for us to go home, babe?" Johnny leaned down, his breathy question warning her neck. The heat from his hand burned her through her dress as well. The assumption in his words burning her pride.

"You're intruding." The words slipped from her tongue. She didn't look at Johnny but the other man looked up at him with a glint in his eyes.

Johnny laughed again, this time a little more nervous. Good, she thought. She was done pretending to take him in stride.

"(Y/N)–" Johnny began, his words careful.

"Go home, Johnny." She interrupted. "Didn't you say you were tired?" She turned to look at him. Johnny looked down at her with a heavy frown. She braced herself for some dreaded response. But he said nothing, just watching her for a fleeting moment in a way that gave her hope. Hope that immediately soured when he looked away.

"I'm actually tired." She said simply. "You might have to go look for belly button again. What was her name, again?"

"You never asked her name."

"Right. It's for the best, I suppose." She grit her teeth, hands tightening around her glass. "It would be a long day if I tried to keep up with them all."

His eyes glimmered with ill intention as he leaned closer to her face. Pride made her stand her ground, not look away.

"I've done it to you too. If you want me to do it again just ask." He licked his lips, a heated reminder of a few months ago when things were so very different. Every inch of her skin flushed.

"Fuck you." She spat, the implied consolation in the words enraging her from head to toe. Especially when he didn't sound consolatory at all. 

She turned when she heard the chair beside her move.

"Leaving so soon?" She asked the man. He shrugged, adjusting his glasses and giving her a nod.

"Come on." Johnny nudged her, "We're done."

"No, I'm just getting started." She met his gaze from the corner of her eyes, You can go back to whatever cunt you crawled out of." She eyed Johnny's unruly hair, ruined by god knows what, truly at the tail end of her patience and pretence.

She turned back to give the man a smile, "I'm sorry, please just ignore him."

He gave an uneasy laugh, looking up at Johnny before back at her. Before the man could get another word in, she felt Johnny close in again. This time his fingers slid down her arms. 

He did it so deliberately slow, so expertly, that apart from breaking into goosebumps, she also visibly shivered. His lips part against the shell of her ear, the sound rattling her spine.

"The only cunt I'm crawling in or out of is yours. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure that out by now." He kissed the skin under her ear, making her shut her eyes. The words and the action did exactly what he intended. She melted against him, heart soaring at the confession. 

The chair beside her slid back further, making her eyes open. "Never a boring day in this club." The man chuckled to himself, walking away after giving her a last wave and Johnny an amiable nod.

"I hate you." She spat at Johnny once he was gone. 

"Okay." Johnny said, not even pretending to take her seriously. "Come, I want to fuck you." He brushed his fingers over her knuckles. The words made her stomach twist and clench. "I even wore your favourite little chain."  He took her hand in his, the gold chain hanging from the wrist.

Her lungs slammed her heart, no doubt exhausted by its flightless fancies. He was giving her what she wanted. It was all she would have. Johnny was giving in to her for once.

Fuck. She cursed in her head. Just this once.

She still didn't turn to look at him, "Will you honour it?" The words came out easier than she would have liked. Johnny hummed against her ears, lifting her hand to his lips.

"Anything you want." He kissed the tips of her fingers one by one.

"Are you still playing your game?" Doubt made her ask the question, finally daring to turn just enough to see his face. She wanted him to say no. He looked up and remained silent instead.

Her ensuing exhale was one of surrender, "Fine, let's play."

A game was all it was, she supposed.

_

Johnny lay back in bed with a kind of cocky smirk that looked like he had already won. She couldn’t fathom what he was so proud about. But then again, he had no clue what was to come.

“How will you have me?” He asked, undeterred by the weight of any consequences. He put his arms behind his head, relaxing further into the bed. She didn’t answer him, turning her back to him to peek through the amenities drawer. After rummaging through all the intriguing objects, she settled on a long satin cloth. Running it between her fingers she closed her eyes to feel it, deciding that this would have to do.

When she turned, his eyes were waiting, taking the object in.

“Are you going to blindfold me to deprive me of your pretty face? Or will you do it to yourself to pretend I’m someone else. The man from earlier, perhaps?” He raised a brow.

She said nothing, keeping her eyes roaming and on anything but him. Gently, she put the cloth down at the very foot of the bed before walking into the washroom.

When she returned, Johnny’s brows were furrowed. He tried to smooth it out when she came into view, but the subconscious frown on his lips remained. It made her purse a smile.

For all his menacing ways, Johnny was a generous lover. His intention was to push her beyond the edges of her flimsy patience, going a little further each time till she was surprised at her own limits. 

But he was also kind in a way that he didn’t realise. Johnny would take his time, but the man always gave in before he intended. True to his personality, he went with the flow and stayed starkly aware of his partner. She could always trust that he would never push her beyond a limit she could not handle.

She however was not the same. Not as seasoned as he was, she was driven solely by her need to stake a claim on his bottomless patience. 

Her need to control him was unique to him only. (Y/N) had never desired to conquer a man like she wanted to conquer Johnny Suh. It made her petty and it made her unpredictable. He had known how to push her buttons from the first day she walked into this place. Even before that, Johnny always knew how to push her professionally. He drove her to blinding rage that left her vulnerable.

It made her mean in retaliation. Her method was to distress him in an effort to shatter his usual easygoing resolve. She liked to watch him beg as much as he did her, but more than that she liked to watch him as he let her get away with it all. 

She was always at his fingertips. But he was also wrapped around her fingers. And she'd take every opportunity she had left to remind him of that.

He turned to look at her, trying to hide his growing impatience. She untied her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders with a sigh.

She stopped at the edge of the bed, eyes going over his entire form. Her eyes halted at his legs, returning to his waiting gaze with a silent instruction. Johnny decided to play dumb, raising both his brows in clueless question.

She didn't move, watching him with such impassive patience that a part of her was impressed by her own restraint. There was a silent stare off that she promised to win on account of the indignation she'd been holding at bay for two weeks.

Johnny smiled, a thought sparking his eyes.

"You do it." He stared at her, "Please?" His voice dripped with his taunt.

She turned away from him, walking back to the foot to pick up the sash she left. His eyes followed her as she came back. Sitting beside him, she placed her hand across his torso. Tilting her head to her shoulder she watched him for a second, eyes storming with contemplation.

"Come here." She finally said, fingers brushing over the buttons of his pants. He moved so fast that he almost threw them both off the bed. Her lips twitched and she had to look away to bite it back.

"We don't know each other." She said softly, fingers flicking the button off. When she looked up, Johnny's brows were furrowed in confusion. "We're strangers who met here today. That's the people we can pretend to be."

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip, looking like he wanted to say something.

"It's my turn. That's the part I want to play." She reinforced her idea, taking his silence as agreement. 

Johnny nodded, confused but intrigued by where this was going. She was angry, it was plain to see. Johnny had never really seen how her fury looked when it boiled over. But he hadn't expected it to be this silent. He tried to push down the fear it brewed deep within his bones. With all his pushing, Johnny also knew how to pull back. So he allowed himself to go along with the game, hoping he hadn't pushed her too far.

When she did pull his pants down, Johnny's dick stood up like it was peering to catch a glance. As usual, a traitor. She unclenched her fingers, the sash falling on his legs. Still unsure of its purpose, he extended his hands to her, wrists held together.

She looked up at him with cold amusement, "Do you want to be restrained that bad?"

"What else could it be for?" He asked, voice betraying his impatience.

"You don't need to be tied, Johnny. You never do. It's not like something so flimsy would hold you anyway." He watched her toy with the object, gingerly wrapping one end of the cloth around her palm a few times. The other end still resting against his thigh.

"Then?"

"What? Don't trust me?" She raised an expectant brow.

"Right now, I'm not sure what you're going to do." He gave her a cautious gaze, yet again failing to gauge her state of mind.

"Just lie back."

So he did, he listened to her and relaxed back against the pillows.

She raised her hand flicking the sash up, the material brushed against his dick, making it twitch again. She did it again, moving it back and forth against his tip till he was clenching his thighs.

"What are you doing?" He asked between rapid breaths.

"Don't like it?" She questioned, meeting his gaze. When she moved it again, the smooth cloth brushed over the underside of his cock, grazing the vein that was now bulging. Johnny's hips lifted off the bed. "You seem to like it." She hummed.

She looked back down, spinning the sash around this time. The thing wrapped around his cock in hypnotising circles, covering the length with feather light brushes. When it brushed over his tip, Johnny had to close his eyes.

He had been so on edge all evening, so excruciatingly hard, that his dick was beyond sensitive. It made the delicate friction shoot liquid electricity up his legs, fresh blood pumping into his already stiff dick.

Then she tugged the ribbon with one harsh pull, the entire thing tightening around his length in one exquisite clench.

"Fuck." He groaned, hips bucking up again. "That's–" He began, but the material was already coming loose, making his eyes shoot open just as she let it fall slack. 

Before words could form in his mind, before Johnny even tried, she was moving it back and forth again.

"What are you trying to do?" He asked, feeling as confused as he did aroused.

"I'm going to get you off. That's what you want, right?" She blinked up at his face, giving him an innocent look.

He wanted her to touch him. But that felt like a confession of subjugation.

"I'm not going to get off like this." He said instead. Her lips twitched, the glint in her eyes telling him that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Are you assuming, or is that a promise?" She questioned.

Johnny didn't respond, knowing well when he'd walked into one of her traps. She knew it too, returning to the task at hand with a chuckle.

"I'll take that as a promise then." She spoke softly, words as gentle as the satin that brushed against his dick over and over.

With each stroke, he felt the skin get more sensitive than he thought possible. His hips squirmed more frequently, eyes fluttering shut, the fabric edging him to insanity. The precum that was beading at his tip began to make each brush a little harsher. 

It wasn't enough to even pretend to search for the beginnings of a build up. Yet it made his cock twitch a little more with each brush, just enough to feel good in what it was denying him. Johnny's lips parted when she wrapped the ribbon around his dick again, brows creasing as she tugged the thing tight around his length. He would have laughed at his state had he not felt so incredibly turned on.

"You love this." She seemed to choke on her own realisation, just as he felt the cloth begin to wrap around his dick again. Knowing what was coming, he braced himself. "Look at you, Whore." She clicked her tongue, "Your fingers are going to tear the sheets."

Heat spread from his forehead down his chest, suddenly too aware of the effect this was having on him.

"I'm trying not to grab your hair and put your mouth where it belongs." He opened his eyes, just in time for her to pull the sash taut again. A moan slipped past his open mouth.

"Where does my mouth belong?" She goaded him, "On your cock?" A dismissive hum slipped past her lips. "Looking at you now, I think my mouth is too good for you."

With that, Johnny could agree. Her mouth was too good for anyone. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't come the moment she so much as brushed her lips against it.

"You've kept me hard and waiting all night. There's only so much a man can take." His thighs unclenched as the ribbon released his length, falling around the base in circles.

"I told you to go bury your busy cock in some other hole."

"And I told you I only want to bury myself in you." He raised a brow, annoyed that she refused to believe him.

He saw the shift in her gaze and the red that tinted her cheeks.

"Let me feel how wet you are." The words rushed out with desperation, taking the liberty the moment gave him. Slowly, he dragged his hands closer to her. Despite the caution she was menacing, tightening the cloth against his base with a swift jerk. The friction made him wince, his hips lifting off the mattress again.

"Take your time with your game. I just want to see how much your pussy missed me."

Her breath came in and out in sharp waves, never too far to not be affected by the right words. Words he knew best.

"Behave." She warned him.

"No." He sat up, enjoying the uneven rise and fall of her chest.

"Alright." She said, letting the sash go entirely. 

Johnny raised his head, a little surprised by her agreement. He also couldn’t believe the pang of disappointment that racked through him at the loss of the touch.

"Take your shirt off." She pointed her chin to his chest.

Experience told Johnny that there was a catch, but it also told him to do what he was told. He took off his buttons rapidly, afraid she'd change her mind.

“You’re very eager.”

“I’ve had a long night.”

She got off the bed, bending over to pull her panties off. Johnny licked his lips before he could truly understand and control the urge. She caught the sight, lips cocking in an arrogant smirk. Both of them turned to catch his dick twitch.

She stood up once the garment was off, walking back towards him while Johnny curbed the urge to demand she take her dress off too.

Slowly, she got on the bed. Resting either knee over his waist, Johnny put his arms behind his head to watch her straddle him. Feeling cocky himself, he let a smirk light his lips. When she caught it, her own smirk looked to pity him.

“You’re also very presumptuous.” She started moving forwards. His tip brushed against her clit as she moved, both of their breaths seizing in tandem.

To his surprise, she got a hold of herself before he did, lifting herself higher to avoid a repeat.

Having already lost the upper hand in the situation, Johnny parted his lips. “Do it again.” He asked shamelessly.

She ignored the words, not even refusing or reminding him of his current station. When she sat down, it was on his abdomen. For a moment, his senses blurred. 

Johnny could feel the smooth glide of her wet slit, practically slipping.

“Fuck Kitten, You’re so wet.” He hissed, stomach clenching tight along with his fist as he resisted the desire to grab her waist.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” She breathed out, the shake in her voice betraying the intensity of the sentiment.

“Just listen to your sopping pussy squelch for me.” He groaned, head falling back as he heard the sound of her pressing against him. “You just love using me, don’t you?”

“How can you tell? Are you used to being used?” She questioned.

Johnny thought it was a joke, lifting his head with humour in his eyes. But upon meeting her gaze, he saw it bore into him, looking displeased.

Right.

He forgot they were strangers.

“I know the type.” He answered after several moments.

“Oh? A lot of experience in the area?”

“Mmhm.” He hummed.

Both her hands pressed against his chest, “Eager and presumptuous men should be used once in a while. Keeps you grounded, don’t you agree?” Her hips slid forward, head falling over almost immediately.

She bit back a moan. Johnny smiled.

“I’m not sure I do.”

“No?” Her next glide came as Johnny flexed his stomach, pulling a hiss from her. “You need a change in perspective.”

“Is that what you’re here to do? Enlighten me?” He raised a brow.

She nodded, eyes fluttering closed. With each glide of her hips, it got harder for her to hold still. Soon, her legs were tightening around his waist. They still shook, despite the tight grip.

“Your legs will be sore tomorrow.” Johnny warned.

"You should be more concerned about yourself right now."

"I think I'm doing good." He sighed, lips lifting in a relaxed smile.

"That's unfortunate. We can't have that." Her breath stuttered as Johnny flexed his stomach in retaliation.

Johnny scoffed, "You just love to make it harder for yourself, don't you? Just wait till later."

"Later?" She hummed, hips coming to a halt. "Do you think you'll see me again?"

Johnny chewed on the inside of his cheek. That was not funny to him at all. It leeched what little enjoyment he had and he had to close his eyes to take in a furious breath as she began humping into him again.

(Y/N) couldn't tell why he had gone quiet all of a sudden. She wasn't supposed to care, she wasn't going to. He was doing what she had intended to do. She told herself that his silence was also a tactic. That is why she felt bothered. Her hands pressed against his chest with more urgency, the movement of her hips getting faster.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked after so long that she gasped at the sudden sound. She nodded, her pace increasing as she felt the knot in her stomach tie itself tighter.

She looked up at his eyes, this close the building pleasure in her core muffled her brain further. (Y/N) leaned in, eyes fixed on his lips. Everything aside, she always missed kissing him the most.

She didn't expect his hand to move at all, nonetheless to grab her chin. He squeezed her cheeks harshly, lifting her face to meet his gaze as he sat up.

"I don't kiss strangers." He reminded her, making her crumble inside. "Understood?" He raised an irate brow. She nodded and he let go as fast as he had grabbed her, bringing his hands back to his sides and relaxing again.

Her pace slowed down a little despite herself. She felt rattled by the words.

Right.

She forgot that he could be cruel too when he wanted to be. At least in these cases, they were true equals.

After losing her rhythm, the tightness in her belly slipped away. No matter how fast she moved her hips, what angle or pattern she tried, she felt frustratingly far away from the build up that never came.

"You don't seem to be doing too good. Need help?" His words were a taunt. She thought it best to ignore it, moving down to sit atop his length. Johnny's head fell back as a sigh left her.

"I think I can manage." She muttered, too distracted by her own frustrations.

"I don't think you can." He spoke through a tight jaw, "Ever used a man before, honey? I don't think you know how to do this." He continued to provoke her.

"And you do?" She asked, sliding over his length. Both of them gasped when his tip nudged her clit, leaving his length wet from her leaking insides. "You look too busy being pussy drunk."

"I'm nothing if not a multi-tasker." He groaned, hips bucking once before he pressed it back down with the sheer force of his will.

She smiled, "That's a lot of promises."

"Give me a chance and I'll show you."

She thought about the first time he was at her mercy like that, the time feeling like it was years ago instead of just one. His every overconfident claim drove her mad, even more so when he lived up to each claim and more.

She thought about her first night here, not even strangers back then. She thought about the first time she had met him. About how she knew him as the man who had built himself a monolith. 

In truth, Johnny had never been a stranger to her. She walked into her interview the same way she had walked into the room much like this one a year ago.

Absolutely enamoured by him.

She stopped moving entirely, "Fine."

Johnny lifted his head to look at her, "What?"

She thought about the little things that could have been different the first time around. Whether they would have produced a different outcome.

"Show me." She lifted her arms, surrendering to him.

His hands came to her back in a flash, lifting her and dropping her down in a heartbeat. Her head fell on the very edge of the bed, knocking the air out of her.

"Are you sure?" He asked, eyes boring into hers.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, "Have you known me to offer anything if I wasn't?"

He raised a brow, forehead gathering. "I thought we didn't know each other."

"Your turn." She told him.

The words made him chew on his bottom lip, his free arm tracing up and down her leg and driving her wild.

"Alright. Sit up." He nodded, pulling back.

Confused, she regardless did what he asked. As she sat up, his hands came to her waist, keeping her on his lap.

Her nose knocked into his, the proximity to his stormy eyes making her dizzy.

"First thing," He whispered, hand coming to her hair. "We don't need these." He unclasped the pin that held the chain in her hair, taking the one on his wrist off right after. 

She gave him a confused look but didn't question it.

"We play my parts now." His breath hitched, "There are no winners. I don't want to fight, I don't want to win. I don't want to be strangers." She heard the small clink of the two chains being placed on the table, his eyes coming back to hers right after, "I want to make love to you." He kissed her eyelid.

Her chest crumbled at the words, caving in and grinding itself into pieces. Helplessly, she nodded.

He shifted, gently placing her head on the pillows.

"Wrap your legs around my waist." He whispered, words as delicate as his actions. She did what she was told.

"Why are you doing this?" She couldn't help but ask, needing an answer.

"You said you wanted to be furthest from who we are. We're already strangers, (Y/N). Despite everything, I still don't know you."

"You could just ask." She whispered, brushing her knuckles over his chin. "I'd tell you anything you want. All you have to do is ask."

Johnny's eyes steeled over at the words and she bit down on her lips hard, cursing herself for letting her sentiments get ahead of her.

"You were truly born to drive me crazy." He groaned, leaning down to kiss her jaw. She froze, expecting him to kiss her. But his lips moved lower instead, hands coming up to the ends of her bunched dress.

"Taking this off." He mumbled against her skin. She nodded.

He pulled back to do the task, watching her with intoxicating intensity as she lifted her hips off the bed.

"So beautiful." He sighed, "I don't understand how you're mine." He breathed out, making the growing cavity in her chest swarm with butterflies. The lines between pretence and reality blurred long before they even existed.

"The same way you're mine." She dared to say, the thought itself as devastating as it was euphoric.

Johnny groaned with approval, hands slipped between them to pull her panties off, "Should I ease you into it?" He asked, finger brushing over her entrance.

Despite seeing white spots in her vision at the touch, she shook her head. "No, I'm good."

His head lifted, eyes coating with tenderness, something she didn't realise she had been yearning for, "Still, it's been a while."

She tugged at the edge of his shirt, bringing him closer, "Your dick is inside me more than it's outside it." She wiggled under him, her impatience already fighting with her need to cherish this moment, "I promise you, I can take it." She huffed.

"What a filthy mouth," He curled his smiling lips, leaning forward till their foreheads touched. She held her breath, again expecting him to kiss her, but he just brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth. "Did you miss my cock?"

"Johnny," She whined, "Please. I need you."

"Answer me, (Y/N)." He asked and she nodded.

Her eyes screwed shut, "I–Fuck." Her words jumbled, when she felt him nudge against her writhing hole.

"Did you?" He asked with a wispy voice, stuttering.

More than anything else, she missed him. All of him. The confession at the very tip of her lips, threatening to flow.

They were playing a part she reminded herself. For a few moments, she was safe behind it.

She forced her eyes open, "It was you I missed. God I miss you so much I might just go mad."

Johnny forsake his control, slowly beginning to ease himself into her. Every muscle in her body went stuff, endless mutters leaving her lips.

"Really?” He asked through his teeth.

"Every goddamn day." She responded with the same gritted jaw.

He hummed, sounding infuriatingly unconvinced. "Why didn't you come to me then?" He stopped after only a few inches, pulling back out again.

"You told me you wanted a break. From me. What was I supposed to do? You weren't even here. You did everything you can to avoid me."

"You did it to me too." He muttered. To her surprise he pouted, the gesture giving her whiplash as he entered her again a little further this time. "You're so wet, baby. So tight." He groaned, eyes shutting for a moment like he was taking it in.

Baby. It was something he had never called her before. Her insides clenched around him in the same way her heart squeezed around those words— holding the moment as tight as she could. He'd used an array of words to refer to her, to call her, to praise her and degrade her. Yet nothing ever felt like this one. As unassuming as it was. Maybe she was actually mad.

"I can't come and just demand your attention. I'm not like you, I just can't do it." She huffed, frustrated and relieved at the same time.

"You're always demanding my attention."

"That's untrue."

"Is it?"

It wasn't. She did always make an effort to be at the forefront of her mind. Of course like many other things, she'd assumed she was good at keeping it covert. In actuality, like most other things, he was just letting her get away with it.

But this was different. This wasn't about teasing him or toying with his need for excitement. This was him wanting a change. She knew that because he told her as much. It hurt her beyond consolation and she couldn't be in front of him with that. 

It had been a year and she had probably become stale to him.

"Why are you fighting with me?" She said instead of acknowledging those things, "I thought you wanted to be in love?"

"This is how love feels like," He looked over her face. "So I'm told." He marched the words with the slow retreat of his length.

On this, she could agree with him. Of all the things people had to say about love, no one warned her how gut wrenching it could also be. She'd hate it if the good parts hadn't made up for it and more.

Her overwhelmed mind made the next question spill, "What does it feel like to you?" She asked him, not sure what she was expecting.

"Like this." He sighed, beginning to push so slightly back inside her. "Like being inside you."

The words made her clench around him yet again. She wanted nothing more than for him to mean those words. Moments like this made her wonder just how she had managed to mask her real feelings for so long. Especially now, when every inch of her seemed to be bursting with it.

"Kiss me, Johnny." Her eyes fluttered open, swallowing whatever remained of her pride to ask for what he already denied her. “Show me just how much you love me."

Johnny’s eyes softened like they melted— glistening despite being in the shadow.

Then his lips pressed against hers and she felt like her entire being lit up with the brunt of her relief. Her hands came to his neck, his to her hips, holding each other like it was the only thing they knew.

She sighed into his mouth without meaning to, the faintest moisture collecting in the corner of her eyes. She had truly missed kissing him. He had ruined the act of it. He had given her the privilege of kissing her, and now she considered it a privilege outright.

It would also be the thing she would miss the most. That and his smile, the sound of his voice when he laughed, the way he said her name. (Y/N) wondered if she'd ever truly be able to kiss another person again.

Johnny's lips moulded over hers like they were completing a puzzle. His hand stroked her thigh gently as her head tilted up to deepen the kiss. He kissed her slow and he kissed her fast, taking his time to navigate each familiar crevice. His sigh was touching, one of relief and comfort. She could get lost in that alone, locking the sound away in her memories.

She'd miss him so much when he was gone that she missed him already. Her arms pressed him closer to her, with more urgency. When he trailed his kisses down her neck, she used the opportunity to wipe her eyes against her shirt, still hanging on his shoulder.

Now Johnny entered her completely, and it took her breath away. Her arm squeezed his neck, his shoulder muffling her moan.

"Good?" He questioned, more as a gauge of her state than to fish for compliments.

"The best." She couldn't help herself if she tried. When he probed the thicker part of her walls she moaned his name so loud that she was sure it could be heard all the way to the basement.

"Yes right there." She added once the stars in her vision dulled.

"Yes, I know." He chuckled, peppering kisses all over her neck and cheek. "I know." He reassured.

"Don't stop." She whined, the pleasure mixing with the flurry of emotions to drive her mad. "Johnny, please."

"I won't." The words accompanied a tender hush. "I've got you." He promised.

"Johnny, I'm so—" He cut her off by grabbing her chin, lifting himself higher and making her look into his eyes.

"I love you. You." He tripped over his words. "I love you so much. More than life itself." He groaned, brows furrowing. "Fuck, you were just made for me and I spend all my time thinking about just that." His thrusts started to get sloppy, only spurred on by her tight grip around him. "That and just how much I fucking love you."

Her lips parted on their own accord, "Johnny, I–" But the words were cut off by a moan as he came with a sudden shiver. The feeling of his come shooting inside her sending her into her own orgasm as he kept up his ridiculous pace.

(Y/N) had never felt hollow the way she felt when he pulled out of her after what felt like hours of just laying there. She couldn't even feel the relief of his weight lifting off her chest. 

He was staring at her from the side, she could feel his eyes looking her over, analysing each movement on her face. When he took in a breath— to say something, she got out of bed. Once again fear grabbed at her, mind filling with every possible explanation he would have to dismiss everything that had just happened.

"I should get cleaned up." She mumbled to the floor, not even bothering to gather any of her clothes. She just went into the bathroom and stayed in the tub. Long enough to be sure he was asleep. 

Or gone.

_

(Y/N) woke up to the feel of Johnny’s hand sliding up her legs, resting on her hip. She smiled, pulling her head back to look at him through her slitted gaze.

“Morning.” Johnny’s voice, as deep as it was on most mornings, was too cautious. Her brows knit, confused for a moment. Then the previous night came back to her, reminding her that this wasn’t most mornings.

She hummed in response, “Where did you get pajamas?” She asked, eyeing the dark green t-shirt and pants that she was certain weren’t from his closet.

“The bottom drawers in the dresser always have a pair or two.” He informed her, the first she heard of this.

“Why didn’t I get one?” Her brows gathered. Johnny just gave her a cheeky grin.

“We haven’t spent a night here before, have we?” He questioned her.

“I haven’t.” She mumbled, shifting to bury her face further in his neck then she found it when she woke. But the reminder had ruined the harmless mood.

Pulling away felt too awkward to pull off so she just tried to shift again. Johnny must have read her mind because his arm came back to her leg, pulling it up on his own and leaving a chaste kiss on her forehead. A sigh left her lips, finding comfort in the familiar situation despite the circumstances. The air in the room was, nonetheless, tense. She told herself she'd take away these moments as relics.

None of them spoke to fill the silence. In truth, there was nothing to say. Only when it got too hot did she pull back from him. 

Silently, (Y/N) slipped out of bed, looking around to spot her clothes. A knock on the door made her rise, grabbing one of the robes that always hung from the bathroom door.

She opened it to find Charlie, one of the servers, standing with her things in his hand.

“Mr. Nakamoto sent your things.” He reached his hands out with her bag, “I took the liberty of bringing Mr. Suh’s things as well.” He handed her the paper bag as well.

“Thank you, Charlie.” She smiled, “I heard that you’re getting married?” She beamed and the man blushed in response, giving her a shy nod.

The overnight bag she had packed for Yuta’s house was heavy and made it difficult to open it with both hands full. She reached into the packet in which Charlie handed over Johnny’s belongings, taking his wallet out to pick out a note to hand to the man for his efforts.

“Next time you’re manning the bar, I want to know how you met your partner.” She smiled at him and he thanked her for the tip. Once she closed the door, she could put the bags down. Sighing from the release of the burden, she opened her bag to fish her own wallet out, replacing the money she took from Johnny.

“You didn’t have to do that.” His voice came from behind. She turned, finding him leaning against the wall and watching her carefully, arms crossed in front of his chest. She just shrugged in return, coming up to hand him his things before walking into the bathroom.

When she emerged, she was dressed for the day. Johnny was laying in bed with his feet on the floor, looking up from his phone when she walked into his line of vision.

“Where are you going?” He asked, brows furrowed like he was somehow expecting her to stay.

“Yuta and I are supposed to have brunch today. Hyuck too.” She spoke while clasping her watch.

“The breakfast here is pretty good. You can just eat downstairs.” Johnny sat up, phone dropping on his chest and then on the bed.

She looked up at him, lost. Breakfast was another thing she did not know the club provided.

Johnny seemed to catch on, eyes lighting up with amusement. "Really, it's like a hotel if you can ignore the large bowls of condoms everywhere."

She laughed under her breath, “Ten’s more entrepreneurial than you are.”

“I’ll have you know that it was my idea.” He said defensively, smiling nonetheless.

“Oh.” She chuckled, “My apologies. The condoms or the breakfast?" Picking up her shoes, (Y/N) sat down at the edge of the bed.

"The breakfast. The condoms are more of a legal failsafe. Your department more than mine."

Both of them laughed.

The next several moments were silent till she finished putting on her shoes, his hand coming to her waist as she started getting up.

He snaked the arm around her to halt her efforts, “Stay.” It was a single word packed with a heavy request. She could feel his eyes on her in the mirror in front of them, keeping her own gaze fixed on the floor.

“I can’t.” It was an equally simple response, laced with a heavy implication. She looked up at the mirror, meeting his gaze. “We have reservations.” It was a flimsy excuse that seemed to get a rise out of him. 

His soft eyes hardened, “You came prepared to stay the night, it seems.” His eyes drifted to her large bag.

It was a petty thing to say and for a moment she wondered if she should lie, give him the shot of provocation that he was seeking when he said the words. But the antagonism that filled the previous night had weighed down on her. She was tired.

"My original plan was to go for dinner and crash at Yuta's. It was Hyuck who insisted on coming here.” 

Johnny hummed, the sound heavy with the words he held back, unconvinced. It made her turn to him, “I have no reason to lie to you.” The words were the simple truth and she could tell that it did the very thing she was trying to avoid.

Her eyes wandered over his face, taking in the way he was trying to hide his outrage. She wondered if it was his ego or if she wanted to delude herself into thinking he actually cared. “All this time and I still don’t understand you.” She bit the corner of her mouth, regretting the words for the argument it would spur.

“It’s not like you ever ask.” He slid closer, nose knocking against hers. His eyes looked up from her lips expectantly. 

She wondered if he wanted a question or a kiss.

Her phone rang while she debated and she told herself it was divine intervention. Except it was just her best friend.

“Ask Johnny if he wants to go for brunch with us.” Yuta skipped the greetings to land the poignant jab. Of course he already knew who she was with. There was never going to be anybody else.

“No.” She got up from the bed, gathering her things. 

Despite every ounce of sense telling her otherwise, she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze to give him a silent farewell. There was the brimming fear of this being the last time, afterall.

The thought made her still. She had to shake her head and look away.

“Meet me downstairs. Did you find Hyuck?” She asked, walking out of the room.

__

Another week passed and (Y/N) had begun the process of mourning. Taking the last two days of the work week off, she had holed herself up in the safety of her apartment for three days now. The time had been spent consuming enough sugar to remind herself that she never had a sweet tooth, before shifting to the store of sour candy that was seemingly endless. Putting the first one in her mouth made her eyes well. 

Finally, she started looking for a different job, her constantly blurring eyes making the task take much longer than intended. 

That Saturday night, she fell asleep trying to imagine how she would hand in her resignation to him. What could she even say? How would she avoid explaining to him that she couldn’t be around him. 

She simply was not as aloof as she wanted both of them to believe.

The building phone never rang. The day doorman never had to see people come to her apartment unless they were with her or he knew them as her regular guests. The one on the night shift was new. 

Her first thought was the most obvious one. It was Johnny, it had to be. But she reminded herself that she had other people in her life. It could be Yuta with some ridiculous situation that only he could have. It could be Doyoung since she had let it slip that her non-relationship with her boss was beginning to sizzle off.

“Hello?” She finally answered the phone.

“I’m sorry Miss, there’s a man here that refuses to give his name. He says you know who it is. I told him that you don’t take visitors this late.”

She huffed. That reduced her guesses to two of the three. Nonetheless, she was grateful for the man’s caution.

“I’ll be down in a moment.” She sighed.

The elevator dinged and she clenched her hands inside the pocket of her hoodie. The one that was not hers. Despite her reasonings, she of course knew who was the moment the phone rang.

Johnny stood in the lobby with his hands on his hips, a frown set deeply on his face. His hair glistened under the lights and her eyes drifted to the doors behind him. 

It was raining.

“Your new place is definitely high on safety.” He remarked, lips still downturned. "Your doorman thinks I'm a thief who'd walk through the front door." He pointed behind him, a small grunt leaving his frustrated lips.

She loved him, she realised for the millionth time. This time with a sudden jolt. Despite every rational thought begging her to do otherwise. She loved him so dearly and so hopelessly that she didn't know what to do with it at all.

Johnny looked restless, his feet tapping against the floor. She could understand and she could forgive it. That was how much she loved him.

She loved him. A sigh of relief left her, like the crashing of waves on a rocky shore after it finally met land. It was useless to pretend otherwise. She loved him and she'd let him in anytime he showed up.

He was in a suit, the rain ruining the fabric permanently. She wondered why he was in one on a Saturday at midnight.

His hands dropped to his side, “You haven’t been coming to work.” He said as the gap between them began to close with each stride. “I was preparing for the quarterly distributor meeting and Kun’s notes made no sense. He’s on a work trip too. I had to call the entire legal team into work today because all of the copyright issues seem to be funnelled through you.” 

She stopped a few metres short of being in his personal space. “I’m entitled to my leaves.”

“Then you should brief the team properly so work doesn’t stop when you aren’t around.”

He was right, she gave him a nod to affirm it as well.

“Did you get what you needed?” She asked, flexing her fists in the safety of the deep pockets of the hoodie.

“Yes. The intern, Hendery, had a decent idea. I hired him tonight.”

“Good. He’s good enough to replace me with enough training.”

Johnny’s frown went from expressing discontent to a confused one. She'd put the hint in his mind now. 

“HR said you’re sick.” Johnny mumbled after a moment of silence, shuffling.

“It’s a cold. I just needed the time off to feel better.” 

Johnny nodded, hands coming back to his hips. He kept nodding, deep in thought.

“Is that the reason you came all the way here? I was sleeping.” She finally huffed, feeling the brunt of her own indignation suddenly.

His brows knit, arm coming up so he could glance at his watch.

“Oh.” His face smoothened in one go, “I didn’t realise it was this late. I was just driving around to clear my head.” He slowly put his hand down, biting down on his bottom lip.

She finally took her own hands out of her pockets, only to cross her arms in front of her chest. She knew why he was here, but she wanted him to admit it. She needed him to confirm so she could act like she wasn't giving in without a fight. Her dignity was the one thing she wanted to walk away with.

“I’m sorry!” He finally huffed, following with a groan that came from somewhere deep inside him. She blinked, incredibly surprised. “Is that what you want me to say?” He huffed again.

The last part ticked her off, “I don’t want you to say anything. What are you sorry for? Is it for waking me up because that is fair, but it’s not the first time you’ve done it.” The words were deliberately cautious.

Johnny groaned, running a hand over his face. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

“What are you sorry for?” She asked, raising her chin and burying her brimming hope.

He gave her a look of furious disbelief.

“For once,” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was second guessing himself.

“What?” She asked with more anger bubbling in her words, taking two steps closer. He took notice, his own two steps closing their gap. Now they were in each other’s personal space.

“For once, can’t you give in to me?” There was a desperation that made the edge of his words blunt.

She stared at him with disbelief. "From the moment I met you I've only ever given into you."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm not talking about work, or bed. I mean your pride. Put it aside for once. Tell me you want me. Give in to me." He took just another step closer.

Remembering the place, she turned to the doorman, “You can let him in next time.” She raised her voice enough to be heard by the man. 

Her gaze softened when it came back to Johnny and she prayed to god that he couldn’t see the glisten in them. Finding a real touch too scathing to execute, she settled for hooking her finger through one of his belt loops.

"You wouldn't be here if you believed I don't."

"I'm here because I'm giving up. I'm done. I don't want a change, I want you."

The confession washed her in a flood of relief. She would love him as long as he'd let her.

"And I came down here because I'm giving in. I don't want a break. Either leave me once and for all or never say that to me again."

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip, taking in the tempest in her eyes.

“Take me upstairs.” He asked like that wasn’t exactly where she was taking him. Like it wasn’t the inevitable outcome he had in mind when he walked into the lobby. For all his claims, he knew how quick she gave into him. “You can sleep, you look so tired. I don't want anything, I just want to be here.”

“You will sleep too.” She announced, turning away to pull him towards the elevator.

Once on the elevator, a thought made her freeze, “The place is a mess.” She warned him, remembering the cave she had turned the place into in the past week. 

He gave her a cautious look, “(Y/N). Baby.” He laughed, her gut kicking up an assault at his tender tone. “Your place is always a mess.”

 She frowned, taking her hand out of his to smack his chest. 

“Hey!” She huffed.

Johnny groaned, a grin tugging at his lips after.

[claypigeonpottery]

CLAY PIGEON COMMISSION DETAILS

Commission Slot List

Please see my price list for approximate prices, as well as examples of the shapes/sizes of pieces I can make

Commissions are accepted on a first-come, first-served basis

I reserve the right to refuse any commission

Please send me a private message to arrange a commission—not an Ask (you can also email me at theclaypigeonpottery@gmail.com but I am more responsive here)

and I’m still accepting dibs on my unfired original pieces

I will make copies of my existing pieces, or work with you to create something new

I can make a close copy of my own work, or I can change the colour and carving choices

If it’s a new work, I will send you pictures of the sketch for your approval

Large scale revisions can only be made during the sketching phase. Literally. Once it’s carved, there’s very little I can do to change it.

Small additions or adjustments can be done right after the piece is carved, when I send you pictures, that is the time to mention anything you want changed.

Please be detailed in your description and send reference pictures if possible 

I don’t charge extra for original pieces, despite sketching time

WAITLIST

If you ask for a commission when the slot is closed, I have one waitlist slot for each type of commission. If the waitlist slot is open, I can put you on it after getting some details about your commission to confirm that it’s one I would be willing to take. 

If you ask for a commission when the waitlist is closed, I'll ask you to message me again once the slot is open again.

I will do my best to give you an accurate timeline for when I will start your commission and when it will be completed.

PAYMENT, ETC

I take 20% of the cost of the piece before starting

You are responsible for shipping cost, on top of the cost of the piece (I can estimate shipping cost for you, but it won’t be exact until the piece is ready to ship)

I do all my transactions through Paypal invoices

All my prices are in CAD

Prices vary depending on size of the piece, the style of decorating, and the amount of detail 

Commissions can take as long as six months, depending on piece size and kiln schedules

I will do my best to keep you updated about your piece’s status and approximate timeline, but if you have questions feel free to message me

If there’s a problem with the piece (warping, a flaw in the glaze, no longer food-safe, etc), I will either lower the price or remake it, if you choose

I reserve the right to refuse to remake a broken or flawed piece, but I will refund your deposit

Once the piece is finished, you have two weeks to arrange payment and shipping. If you communicate with me about needing longer and give me a specific date, I will hold it for you until that date. After that (and a couple reminders) I will make it available for other people to buy. I can’t hold pottery for people indefinitely

If you want a piece by a specific date, I will charge an extra $20 if I successfully get it to you on time, since it’ll mean juggling kiln time with other potters and coordinating with the studio’s kiln tech. I cannot guarantee that it will be done by a specific date, I work with a shared kiln and don’t always have access. The farther out you order it, the better.

I WILL

make portraits of people or animals

make prose or poetry into pottery 

make memes into pottery

depict nudity or sex

depict blood, death, or gore

I MIGHT

depict original characters

depict fan art

I WON’T

copy another artist’s work without the permission of that artist

ONCE I'VE ACCEPTED

I will keep you updated with an approximate timeline and do my absolute best to get it to you in a reasonable timeframe, but…

Please remember that pottery is a slow process. 

Once I build the piece, it has to dry for a few days up to a couple weeks before it’s ready to carve. And once it’s been carved, it can take a couple months to be fully dry, especially if it’s a large piece or a mug.

Drying pottery slowly prevents warping and cracking, so it can’t be rushed, and if a piece goes into the kiln before it’s fully dry, it will explode. Any moisture in the clay will rapidly expand as it turns to steam and literally blow the piece apart. 

And, unfortunately, with a shared kiln, sometimes the schedule just doesn’t allow me to fire for a couple weeks. 

Thanks for reading, I appreciate it!

[somethingclevermahogony]

A Queer Excerpt From my WIP

I’ve been somewhat bad about editing lately, weather has been getting me down, I suppose. To encourage me to get back to work I am posting this little tidbit from my story. Tomorrow it will be back to editing!

For a tiny bit of context this occurs shortly after two refugees, Otilia and Suru (The brother of my MC Narul, are captured and enslaved by Wadikir, keeper of the Hall of Oaths.

As Wadikir approached, the doors were swung open, revealing the Hall of Oaths. Otilia gasped. A massive room, once a natural cavern, stretched out in front of them, filled with a labyrinthian collection of shelves, each stuffed with scrolls and boxes of tablets fired and unfired. Works of art, paintings, and great chiseled statues peaked from amidst the walls of wood, clay, and parchment. Wadikir led them through the maze with trained ease. At its center, seated cross-legged upon a table of polished marble, was a Kishic woman sorting through a pile of clay seals and stamps. “You two can help Shela with sorting these old seals. You will not be leaving this room until I let you. Shela will show you your new living quarters. If anything is broken or out of place, you will be punished appropriately. She will explain what you have to do.” Wadikir said and promptly strolled back from whence he had come. Once his blue robe had swished out of sight, Suru huffed. “What an ass.” “He is something, isn’t he?” Shela said as she looked up from the seal.  “It's usually not too terrible working down here, as long as he isn’t here.” Suru squinted at one of the small cylindrical seals. “How are you supposed to sort these?” “Ignore the letters; look at the symbols, the ones with bulls or sheep go in this pile, any with this little circle thing go in the other.” “Let me see that one, Suru,” Otilia said as she reached for the seal. She ran her fingers over the symbols. “It’s written in Kishic; the seal belongs to someone named Farut.” Shela gasped. “You can read that? Don’t let Wadikir see!” “But why? If I’m working somewhere like this, isn’t it better if I can read?” “No! Because then you can learn the secrets. If he knows there is a literate slave in the Hall, he’ll have you killed!” She squeezed Otilia’s wrist urgently. Otilia could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Shela had a kind, round face, and large brown eyes that complimented her terra cotta complexion. Though short and somewhat plump, she moved with grace and poise as if her feet barely touched the stone floor. Her combed black hair had been tied back so as not to get in the way of her face. Her nose was smudged with dust though her clothes were spotless,  Otilia’s stomach fluttered, and her heart raced. “Thank you, I’ll remember that.” Shela smiled. “Good. You haven’t told me your name yet.” “I’m Otilia, and you’re Shela, right?” “That's right,” Shela smiled. She then tilted her head and lifted her hand to rest its back against Otilia’s forehead ”Your cheeks are looking a little red. Are you feeling alright?” Suru looked between the two and gave an exasperated huff before he set upon his work sorting the little clay seals.

[onrainynights]

why you can't compare buddie to destiel (from someone who ships both)

this is kind of addressing the recent negativity in the buddie tag, but it's also a collection of my thoughts and reasoning for being buddie-positive despite my experiences with destiel and spn in general. the text of 911 is not really discussed at all, and this is relatively spoiler-free, so if you're thinking of watching 911 I encourage you to read it. if you haven't seen both shows it probably won't make perfect sense, but I wrote this with spn fans who haven't seen 911 in mind, since that's most of my followers (and also seems to be where much of the negativity was coming from) pretty long post under the cut to save your dash

I just want to prepare y'all for the fact that buddie could be the slow burn will they/won't they mlm romance we've been waiting for practically forever.

at this point it's not fair to call it queerbait because where their relationship is now fits the characters and their development. this is not like destiel, where there were many moments over the years that could've ended with them getting together and it would've made sense with the story. buddie right now is in this sweet, wholesome pre-relationship kind of place, which on its own is a compelling dynamic and so fun and good to see. a resolution of it right now would feel out of character—they both still have some development to do before that would feel natural. and so, I don't think we can really call it queerbaiting unless the characters get to that point and there is still no resolution.

also I'd like to point out the overall positivity from the cast when it comes to buddie. both Eddie's and Buck's actors have said (I'm paraphrasing cast statements in this post unless they are in quotations) positive things about the pairing, and Buck's actor has said that he likes the interpretation of Buck as queer, and he would be happy if the writers took his character in that direction. also Eddie's actor with "that's what they all say" when buddie was referred to as a "bromance". Jennifer Love Hewitt, who plays Buck's sister (another main character), is very supportive of buddie, saying she's "rooting for it", that it would be "amazing", she doesn't "see how it couldn't happen one day". this was in response to hearing that a fan insists Buck and Eddie will be a couple. She flat-out said "I think so, too." She jokes about buddie with Buck's and Eddie's actors all the time. Also, my favorite bit from the video of her saying all this, "Let's manifest it together!"

It's safe to say this is a VERY different environment to spn. I don't think I've ever seen a cast this positive about a show's main non-canon queer ship before. NEVER. I think it's safe to say that if/when buddie is canonized, the cast will be just as excited as the fans—at least JLH will be! Add into the fact that the show's PR seems to be leaning into bi buck and buddie right now, it's a VERY different vibe than spn had, definitely. There's no gaslighting of the fans here, at least not that I've seen. also, although 911 has a large casual viewership, I think it's safe to say the GA would not be upset by buddie—there are only 3 serious, long-term romantic relationships involving main characters in this show, and one of them is a lesbian marriage with two children. And yes, the characters are shown being lesbians, it's not just a stated fact; the audience is privy to their relationship (and their interactions with their adorable kids). I think it's safe to say that buddie would go over well with the fans, even the casual viewers (of which there are many). buddie doesn't seem to be a huge divider in fandom like destiel is, either. reactions generally seem to be either "I ship it" or "I don't care either way."

Also I'd like to point out that while yes, it's possible that buddie is only bait (which would be disappointing), there's a reason queerbaiting works. people WANT to be queerbaited, because it's nearly indistinguishable from a slow burn will they/won't they queer romance. queerbaiting allows fans to make theories, create fan content (including fic), and keeps them engaged with the dynamic and the show. fans who are vulnerable to queerbaiting want a slow burn will they/won't they queer romance, which is currently an almost completely untapped market. spn could've tapped it, but despite the huge fandom they did not. there are SO MANY people outside of spn fandom who want a slow burn mlm romance, one that keeps the audience guessing, one that's will they/won't they, one that is not guaranteed, and that is why queerbaiting works so well. the audience doesn't just want the payoff, they also want the build-up. the longer the build-up, the higher the payoff, and the suspense of the build-up is gone if you know from the start that the payoff is definitely coming. that's part of why malec from shadowhunters didn't fully tap this market—there was no question of if, only the question of when (which wasn't really a question either, given there was an episode in season 1 literally titled "malec" when they got together.) the characters were always queer, the show being an adaptation of a book series where they were in a relationship and eventually had children together.

this was why November 5th was such a big deal—fans were so far past the will they/won't they aspect of destiel, firmly believing that destiel would always end as a "won't they" and not a "will they" that when cas confessed his romantic love for dean, destiel trended on Twitter over the US election. you all know that story, but maybe not everyone reading this knows that after Nov. 5 there was a case of hundreds if not thousands of spn fans experiencing love sickness because of the confession scene. the payoff of making destiel fully canon (and reciprocated, in English) would've been huge. fans would've been throwing their money at the c/w.

which leads me to the possibility (this is not at all me saying that I think this happened or even is likely, just that it's one possibility that /could/ have happened) that buddie started as bait, that the writers never intended for them to be a couple, but saw fan reactions to buddie during season 2 and started to lean into it in season 3 (and 4 so far, but it just started so I don't want to make any generalized statements about it) possibly still as bait or maybe not deciding yet if they'll go anywhere with it. and then maybe they saw destiel trending on November 5th, realized just how BIG the market for a slow burn will they/won't they mlm romance is, and said "hey, we already have the foundations for one of those. why not go for it and draw in all those viewers who clearly want one so badly?"

if buddie goes canon, because the cast and PR have been so positive about it, unlike spn, and because of the text of the show itself, the show's creatives could VERY EASILY claim that they were never baiting, that it was all an intentional slow burn will they/won't they romance from the beginning, and most people would believe them; there isn't really any evidence to the contrary, although I am sure there would be at least a few fans convinced it started as queerbaiting, and there might not be any evidence to refute that, either.

the point is that 911 is currently sitting on a gold mine. if they play their cards right, and execute buddie well, they will monopolize this market that old straight white men serving as network executives have failed so far to really tap into. they queerbait without the payoff, which gives the show a reputation among those in the market who haven't seen it, guaranteeing they will never watch it. shows in this vein: sherlock (huge reputation for queerbaiting and a finale fans didn't like) and spn (huge reputation for queerbaiting and a finale fans didn't like). spn got so, so close with cas's confession but then continued to gaslight its fans, and PR did not lean into destiel AT ALL. if 911 did buddie? the PR team would be all over it. it would be a moneymaker, big time, and Fox knows it. if buddie, or even just bi buck, went canon, tumblr would be all over it. viewership for the show, which is already impressive, would skyrocket. 911 would monopolize this market, because fans wary of queerbaiting would watch it with the knowledge that the payoff is there, and there really wouldn't be a competitor until other shows saw the success of buddie and followed suit with their own pairings, and given the fact that the market specifically wants /slow burn/ queer romances, that might take a couple years. that puts 911 in a really good position, where suddenly the fandom of the show, not just the GA, is very large and likely very dedicated to the show. the success of canon buddie might just change the landscape of TV in the coming years, showing execs that while queerbaiting does work, actually going through with it is really where the money is. 911 would not just monopolize the market for a while; it would pioneer it.

if buddie never goes canon, I would probably be a bit disappointed at the wasted potential, but unless the characters get to that point where canon buddie seems like the most logical outcome and they /don't/ go for it, I won't be truly upset because I don't think it's fair to claim its queerbaiting until then. I can't tell you how likely it is that buddie will be canon at some point, but it seems FAR more likely than destiel /ever/ did, and we ended up getting cas's confession in the end. I have hope, despite being hurt so badly by spn. 911 is a genuinely great show with some fantastic writing, and they don't leave chekov's gun unfired, unlike spn.

really, it comes down to this: if Jennifer Love Hewitt is allowed to clown for buddie, then so am I, and I'll enjoy this show—which is amazing even without canon buddie—while I apply my clown makeup.

[jeanjauthor]

What’s your top five favourite things that have happened or people have done or that you find really interesting, in the world pre mordern?

So many things to choose from...

Writing. That has to be the single most amazing thing. (Yes I'm biased, shush.) To be able to take symbols, connect them to sounds, to meanings, to real-world objects but also to actions, to qualities, to quantities, and make them last, take these words and make them last beyond your lifespans. To know that 500 years from now (assuming we stop fucking up our planet and fix things), there might be a human who reads 20th century English who reads my stories, realizes that I'm writing about things in my Theirs Not series that took place before the turn of 2500, when it's 2521 to them...and them trying to think about how much is still the same (our humanity, hopefully!) while everything else is wildly different (projected future technology, aliens, etc)... And to know that written on the goddamn walls of Pompeii and Herculaneum, time-encapsulated for nearly 2000 years, are the exact same human bullshittery that are written on the bathroom walls of the AFK Tavern in Everett, WA. "for a good time..." "...eats shit" "(poetry about a lover)" "(slams about a rival)" "(rival responds)" (rival of rival responds to that)"...

It's kinda hard to top that, but I'll have to say the invention of chocolate as we know it. Conched dark chocolate properly tempered and mixed with the finest ingredients... Chocolate is freakin' incredible, just sayin'.

Wondering how that first ancient family with a grainary felt when that tiny feline predator hunting the rats and mice decided to rub up against them with that weird rumbly noise...and then climbed into the lap of one of them, to settle down, rumblepurrrr, and oh so trustingly fall asleep on them. (Also wondering how long ago it was the first human had The Desperate Need To Pee warring with The Inability To Wake The Gosh-Darn-Too-Cute KittyCat Sleeping On Me, Dammit.)

Marveling at the abso-damn-lutely identical pyramid features spread around the world, with some of them verifiably 12,500 years old. Some of these structures had villages around them of literal thousands of people...in an era before provable agriculture. Which makes me wonder how they fed all those people, and if they did so in a way similar to the kind used by the Coastal Salish peoples, which was definitely not-quite-as-obvious European/Middle Eastern style agriculture with its squared out pastures and dug up fields, but which was still very palpably managed, including whole meadows of camas lilies (not the white ones; those are death camas, VERY deadly), and white oak groves, and hazelnut orchards, and berry patches up one side and down the other... Seriously wondering at how everyone was fed.

And (I know this first one is technically from the modern era, but) I honestly 1000% believe Wally Wallington hit the head on the nail on exactly how they built Stonehenge, and I believe that Nova: Secrets of Lost Empires hit the nail on the head in how they moved the Moai stones of Rapa Nui (Easter Island) by literally rocking them in a side by side waddle like you'd rock a dresser drawer or bookcase to get it into position, and I believe Joseph Davidovits 10000% cracked how the utterly unnatural limestone blocks of the Giza Pyramids were created using remarkably simple-to-create cement-style geopolymer chemistry...and that this is how most of the stones were sculpted ih ancient Egypt (Khemit), including geopolymer granites that were ground up, patched together with cement mortar (which takes only 5% or less!) and troweled into place and shaped when semi-stiff, like at the leather-hard stage of working as-yet-unfired clay.

[nox-ceur]

elle I have some work gossip 👀 you might remember from wayyyy back when I met Johannah we called her "maybe pregnant girl" or something like that. anyway, she's pregnant now she told me herself, And she was pregnant when we suspected she was before. she got rid of the baby but she's going to keep this one 😳 just thought you would be interested to know our year old suspicions were confirmed lol

I remember her!! Is she also the one who hot fired and then unfired or was that someone else? Also who was the one with the boyfriend, the one who’s house Jack literally went to or something like that?? I need to make a PowerPoint to keep track of your coworkers lmao

But she’s pregnant??? I remember we talked about her and her possible pregnancy!!! Like she “didn’t know” if she was or not but then She never discussed it after that??

Pls share any other work gossip you may have, I’m invested lmao

[howtotrainyouragents]

Agent H’s Book Reactions

The Wrath and the Dawn by Renée Ahdieh 

Shahrzad vows to marry the murderous king and kill him, but she discovers there may be more to him than meets the eye

-Allow me to set the stage: I am not a fan of Ahdieh’s stuff. I’ve tried starting this book multiple times in the past and was turned off. I read A Flame in the Mist last year and rated it one of the worst books I’ve ever read (admittedly, I was in a very different mindset when reading these two books). But for some reason, I was in the mood to hate-read this book. So I did, and, though fully expecting to loathe it, I really loved it

-If I had read this earlier in my life (re: before I developed critical thinking), I would have without a doubt been obsessed with this book. It is everything younger me could want. I deeply regret this, but I find comfort knowing it came out when I was in college and already had critical analyses skills :/

-This book actually has a lot of good things going for it: great incorporation of culture/setting, mostly interesting characters, cool premise. The purple prose is a bit excessive, but I thought it was written way better than in a Flame in the Mist despite being written first.

-The biggest issue I had was that the author didn’t want to commit to making her characters questionable. You have Shahrzad whose whole premise is to commit murder, but at no point does she actually come up with a good plan to commit murder or attempt to follow through. You have Khalid who is a murderer. Now from the beginning, I was expecting her to explain away the murders, but I was disappointed that the genesis of the murders still casted him as passive good guy when he should have been really morally grey or outright evil. Btw this and FitM, the author thinks that she can write enemies-to-lovers when really she can only write insta-loves (which is fine! I enjoyed the insta-love)

-There is such a disconnect between who people say Shahrzad is and who she shows to be. Tariq, Despina, her father, Khalid all say that she is brave and smart and loyal, but alot of times she’s not? She’ll talk back and she can shoot a bow, but they hype her up way more than she actually is and she becomes more passive as the book goes on? 

-I can’t believe I like Khalid. I can’t believe I swooned so hard over this romance (once I got over the fact that it was a insta-love and she had no intentions of killing him). Like damn, Ahdieh, you got me; I owe you many apologies

-Irsa should have been important in the book :/

-Tariq was the Nice Guy and it was fun to watch him lose

-I loved Jalal and and the JalalxDespina storyline, but 1) Despina should have been WAY more freaked out, she’s literally an unmarried woman in ancient times carrying a royal baby.  2) They should have interacted more! She blushes once at him and Shahrzad guesses their whole relationship from that; but also, they would have GREAT chemistry and we should have gotten to see it 

-I didn’t read the nightly tales Shahrzad told. Sorry not sorry

-The action scenes were like how I would have written them... and I can’t write action scenes. I will use this as an opportunity to encourage people: if a type of scene/plot is not your strong suit, you don’t have to write it in!

-Musa Zaragoza, Khalid’s mother, the magic rug (which was a Chekov’s gun unfired), and Khalid’s uncle were such interesting plotlines that should have been way more prominently featured

-The most emotionally gut-wrenching scenes I’ve read in a long time: Shahrzad finding the letters and Khalid telling her to kill him. Holy shit. I do not forgive the author for cutting the tension after these scenes

-Speaking of, this is just a general rule of thumb, but, yes, sex can be the culmination of tension, but it also cuts the tension and when you cut the tension, we no longer care. Straight men and women, ya’ll need to learn to YEARN

-I’m disappointed in where the story left off because it did not resolve anything, and I think it should have just been one big book instead of a duology. 

-I was just skimming at this point, but Jahandar started the fires right? Bc that’s the kinda of questionably grey actions this book is missing! 

-The fact that Khalid visits only her (like he just fell in love with her the moment he saw her?) makes no sense. The curse makes no sense. The fact that Shahrzad stayed alive for so long and it took so long for repercussions to happen makes no sense- but I do like the fact that there were repercussions at the end and not in the way we were expecting! 

[reylorabbittrail]

Long, Barely Coherent Thoughts about The Rise of Skywalker

Since some of you wanted to hear my thoughts about “The Rise of Skywalker”, I’ve taken some time to write them up and provide context for why I responded the way I did.

A small preamble: I didn’t hate it. Hate is a strong word. And there were moments that I liked. Some that I even loved. However, the aggregate feeling for the movie overall was disappointment. For certain elements, it went beyond that into something genuinely painful and I don’t think that will make sense unless I also go into why I loved the previous two installments of this trilogy.

Also, if you loved this movie, I’m very happy for you. This is about my personal response to a piece of media and I make no judgements on those who enjoyed what you saw. I wish I could join you.

Finally, I will be talking about some sensitive subjects, including child loss and abuse. Please be aware of that before reading further.

Okay, so what was my overall impression of The Rise of Skywalker?

Soulless. Cowardly. Incoherent. Badly paced.

I spent large portions of the movie unable to get into the action because the pacing was so breakneck. There was no time to breathe. Consequently, there was never enough time to recover from one rush before another started. If everything is exciting, nothing is.

I think that this was a deliberate choice to cover up the lack of sense behind the exposition. Oscar Isaac’s Poe Dameron looks dead inside as he temporarily takes up the mantle of Basil Exposition to explain that somehow or other, Emperor Palpatine has returned and there’s a hard time limit on destroying his fleet.

This is a fine example of a running problem throughout the movie. Whereas both The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi used visual storytelling to move the story forward, things in TROS were explained through dialogue time and again. And the dialogue was incredibly clunky.

But back to the story. We are given a paper thin explanation of the Emperor’s return, and immediately are thrown into a fetch quest to find the Big Bad. I’m sure it will make an exciting video game adaptation.

The thing though is that the fetch quest makes no sense. One of the wayfinders is found in the first two minutes of the movie. Yes, it’s in the hands of the bad guys. But does the audience not remember that our heroine is bound to the villain? Why couldn’t she try to use that bond to get at the directions? Why does the Resistance not try to use that bond? Has she hidden from them her connection to Kylo Ren? Either she’s built up a wall of mistrust between her found family and herself by keeping the bond a secret, or she’s revealed all and no one thinks to try to use that bond to their advantage. It’s just conveniently overlooked.

Oh, a sidenote. Wayfinder. Why? There is an in-universe word for such objects already. It’s a holocron. Why not use holocron? We throw Star Wars-isms at the audience all the time. It would be an Easter Egg to the diehards while not bothering the general audience one iota.

Back to our fetch quest. We head to the desert planet of Pasaana. There’s a festival going on. A festival about family. Rey looks longingly at children and infants. A child gives her a fertility necklace. And then suddenly she’s connected by her bondmate through the force.

Now it’s no secret that the Rey and Kylo dynamic is one of the reasons I loved the first two movies in the trilogy. The actors have great chemistry. More importantly, the characters have interesting conflict. And yet that conflict seems off in this movie. TLJ left them complicated enemies. But they feel out of character. I don’t understand what each is trying to get out of their encounters. I have to do massive amounts of work to understand their actions and the dialogue doesn’t help. Because it doesn’t ring true.

Setting such details aside, Kylo rips off the necklace in a moment worthy of the Phantom of the Opera and for once it’s an action that makes sense, having both the subtext of obsessive love and jealousy, and the text of offering a clue for analysis to Rey’s location. Bravo. The writers did something right.

Meanwhile, we get a clunky reintroduction of Lando Calrissian. Has he been stuck on this desert for over 7 years? Longer? We just don’t know and he doesn’t tell us. Our heroes hitch a ride and then we get a fun speeder chase.

Okay, a couple more questions. There’s some good stuff here. The omnipresence of the First Order helps convey how thorough their control is. But why doesn’t Rey hotwire the speeder? It was established two movies ago that she’s a good mechanic. And on Jakku that kind of skill makes sense. Why hand that off to Poe? And why this Trio stuff. It’s fanon. We have just been assuming that Finn’s best friends would form the new Han, Luke, and Leia. Because reasons. None of them textual. It was a failure of TFA to not establish this dynamic if this was an essential element of Star Wars that had to be there from the start.

Which gets to the heart the problem in fandom which is that Star Wars is different  for every fan. What is essential to the series is subjective. For me, Star Wars is light sabers, hyperspace, the Force, epic battles, strange world with one biome only per world. So I’ve never felt like something was missing. But if an essential element was a very particular character dynamic (like a good guy Trio), then I can see why some fans felt let down. As if all the pieces were there but never got put together.

Back to Pasaana. We have a brief descent into the underworld in which Rey has a moment of true Jedi compassion and is rewarded when her compassion for the monster leads to an exit from said underworld. Nice. Mythically coherent. And hey, we also get one of the MacGuffins we’ve been searching for, so, bonus.

 Now we get the arrival of Kylo and his backup band. What was the point of these dudes? I mean, they look cool and I can’t wait to edit videos of them to classic NKOTB. But narratively, why are they there? Why did Kylo reforge the mask? Why all these questions in the third act when we should be in the process of tying up loose ends.

Rey, in a moment reminiscent of bull leaping from Crete, goes out to stall them? I guess? And then ends up in a battle of wills with Kylo that leads to her inadvertent use of Force Lightning.

Okay, another side trip. Are they trying to make out that Dark Side Powers are genetic? Because that’s all I can figure. Really, it’s kind of gross because it suggests that darkness isn’t a human trait that we all carry and must confront, but rather that Rey’s specific problem is a dark legacy. Which, that’s Kylo’s story. He’s the one grappling with the legacy of Vader and how that led his family to fear his darkness rather than aid him in confronting it.

Anyway, we have Rey briefly thinking she’s killed Chewie and that sets our heroes off to our next quest location and another set of problems: Why did we make the Latino man a drug runner and car thief? No, this isn’t just putting an unneeded real world spin on the universe. This is about narrative consistency. Because in a bid to make Poe Dameron an ersatz Han Solo, they broke his actual in-universe back story that had been established in comics and novels. That Poe Dameron was a pilot in the New Republic Navy, the child of war heroes Kes Dameron and Shara Bey. He grew up on Yavin IV. When did he have time to be a smuggler? He’s only a few years older that Ben Solo.

See Lucasfilm has a Story Group that is supposed to help keep narrative consistency between the various media released. And I can’t help shake the feeling that the Story Group was ignored or stonewalled. To please who? The fans? Which fans? Because I would be under the impression that the fans who read the novels and the comics, who dig the trivia aspects of the universe, would be the first to desire the universe to remain coherent.

The Kijimi stuff is fun. Babu Frik is adorable. C3PO is touching. There’s good moments. There really are.

We now go to the infiltration of the Star Destroyer (Does it have a name? Nerds, help me out here. Usually I know this sort of thing.) Again, good moments. I like the implication that Rey’s Force Powers disturb Poe, but it’s never brought up again. One of dozens of Chekhov’s guns left unfired. This is incredibly sloppy in the plotting. Hux is the mole!?! Fun. Yet, again, wasted. And out of character, but I’m sure that’s not going to bother the general audience. Rey gets caught sneaking around in Kylo’s bedroom? Priceless, and some good imagery (smashing the altar to Vader) combined with incredibly clunky dialogue and some more serious questions that never get answered.

The whole time Kylo thought Vader was talking to him it was Palpatine? Why the hell does he still have that mask on a pedestal? He just couldn’t bear to get rid of a collectible? He hadn’t had time to konmari yet? And just what does smashing the pedestal symbolize? Is this the start of Kylo breaking free? We’ll probably never know.

Rey escapes on the Falcon. After getting the worst character reveal in the Saga. I’m sorry. Rey Palapatine is just dumb. I liked that she was a nobody. It allowed her to be the Forces solution to the manipulation and abuse heaped upon the Skywalkers. She was brought into the story and bound to the last scion of House Skywalker as a corrective. She wasn’t overpowered. (No really. She executed a few very basic Jedi skills in the first two movies, none of them exceptional.) And her skill level makes sense the moment you understand that she is bound to Ben Solo. She is literally downloading his training. She can do what he can do. Even her fighting style mirrors his. Fun fact: if you watch the scene in The Last Jedi where she’s practicing sword forms on Ach-to, and compare them to Kylo in his duel with Luke, they’re identical. To a move. Rey is powerful because the Force chooses its vessels. No one was asking who Mace Windu’s parents were. Or Ki-Adi Mundi’s. But Rey is skilled because a very clear in universe device means she has access to Ben Solo’s mind and that included every skill he ever learned.

Alrighty, so now our team is on to the next step in the quest, the ocean moon of Kef Bir, one of the many moons in the Endor system. (No, it’s not the Forest or Sanctuary Moon with the Ewoks.) We meet Jannah, another wasted character. She is pretty and could have been cool. But she exists for us to realize that Finn is probably Force Sensitive and that he broke conditioning not due to innate morality but because he’s not a Muggle.

Which brings me to my gripe with how Finn’s character was treated. He spent the whole movie running around shouting Rey. That’s it. That’s his arc. I don’t mind that he can feel the Force. But I feel like his development was regressed. He had a clear character arc in the first two movies. From a man running away from responsibility to one willing to fight for a friend, to a man willing to commit to cause. This movie should have had him building on that, and perhaps like Moses returning to free the rest of the Stormtroopers who are canonically child soldiers brainwashed into fighting for the bad guys.

Back to the plot. Rey takes off for the Death Star, searches the haunted house and yet again has her moment in the cave, this time confronting a dark vision of herself. Dang that was cool. Would have liked to see more of that. Anyway, she confronts Kylo and he smashes the holocron. Emphasizing for us how pointless this fetch quest has been. Girl could have hopped a ride in his TIE at any point and dealt with the fallout after they dealt with the emperor.

They fight. It wasn’t a bad fight. Just not my favorite. It did emphasize though that Kylo is never ever fighting on the offensive with her. Never in three movies has he ever taken an advantage of an opening for a killing blow, and never was it more obvious than in this fight. Kylo gets distracted, Rey stabs him mortally, and this act seems to wake her up from whatever possessed her in the throne room. She heals him and runs away.

This brings up another thing that bothers me. I know the filmmakers were working with some severe challenges with their footage of Carrie. I don’t think it was badly used for the most part. But I was left baffled at what exactly was going on here.

I was not baffled at Kylo/Ben’s confrontation with Han. This was the high point of the movie for me. It was pitch perfect in tone, and touched on the one an only sin Ben ever committed that wasn’t connected to a war objective, the murder of his father. And it made clear that the prodigal was loved and wanted and it wasn’t too late to come home. The heart of Ben’s problem has been the conviction that he has done too much wrong to come home, and while it is only a memory, it is a true memory of the man who loved Ben enough to walk straight into Hell though he knew it would probably be the death of him. I can forgive this scene for throwing the lightsaber  into the ocean. I realize that most of the audience doesn’t know that you can heal kyber crystals. Yes, the saber was a metaphor for Ben’s damaged and unstable soul, and yes, it would have been poetic (and badass) for him to show up later with a healed lightsaber, stable and blue and looking like something an angel would fight with. But I’ll forgive that for the poetry of what happens on Exegol.

And then we go to my low point. I’ll set my costumer’s beef with Luke Skywalker’s wig aside. It looked cheap and that’s all I’ll say. It was more the deliberate middle finger to TLJ in the lines while ignoring that Luke’s most iconic and Jedi-like moment in the original trilogy was casting aside his lightsaber in an act of compassion. Yes, Rey was burning her ship and throwing away her weapon for the wrong reason.  And it was a deliberate echo of Luke who also was appalled when his fear was twisted by the Dark into an attack on his nephew. She is overcome with the same shame and fear of self. Luke can speak to this in a real way. With better dialogue, it might have worked for me. Alas, it didn’t. Instead we got more exposition to provide us with an extra lightsaber. And more questions about why everyone in this family gave up on Ben Solo.

Here’s the thing. If Leia remains untrained, lots of things make sense: her instinctive but infrequent use of the Force; her fear for her son and sense of inadequacy in dealing with he struggles with darkness, her unresolved issues with her father which lead her to hide her parentage not only from the galaxy but also from her own son. All of this is undone by the training reveal and makes us wonder why everyone was willing to help a descendent of Palpatine but not their own flesh and blood. And in a movie that used dialogue to explain nearly everything, these lacunae stand out more than they would in a film that trusted the audience more. See you could have had Luke say “We messed up. We gave in to fear. And we didn’t want to make the same mistake with you. Rey. I’m the son of Darth Vader. I know more than any man that we are more than our bloodline. And forgetting that with Ben was the worst mistake of my life.” But  he didn’t. Which in a movie which tells as much as or more than it shows seems like a deliberate choice.

Have you noticed that I’m ignoring the space battles? That’s because they’re forgettable. I just didn’t care about them. Especially since the galactic conflict remained essentially unresolved. Back to the Force Plot, the only plot that matters.

Rey confronts Palpatine. Yawn. At this point I just don’t care. For most of the movie, she hasn’t seemed like my Rey. I couldn’t relate and by this point I’ve lost interest so I’m more wondering where did all these people come from. Are there concessions? How much does a hot dog and Coke cost on Exegol? Does this stadium have bathrooms? Nice to see that it’s built like the AT&T one down the street with the sliding roof panels. And then my boy Ben Solo arrives and the film is good again. Without a word of dialogue (besides “ow”) Adam Driver delivers the best performance of the movie, showing that the Han Solo of the trilogy was there the whole time in his son. Was there ever a more Han Solo thing than running into a Dark Side temple in your pajamas, armed only with a blaster? And then Rey passes him Anakin’s saber. OMG. Brilliance. The best part of the movie. For a moment I thought that they would at least wrap it up well. And for a moment they’re side by side and all is right in the world. And then Palpatine throws Ben in a pit.

I hate this. I don’t hate this movie but I hate this moment. For three movies we’ve set up that Rey and Ben (He’s Ben now; don’t’ @ me.) are equals in the Force. They have a Yin/Yang dynamic that made this work. The natural conclusion here should have been that they take out Palpatine together. Because both have a beef with him. This is the man responsible for ruining the lives of four generations of Skywalkers. And while Ben is at the bottom of a pit, Rey stands alone, calling on the Jedi to help her.

The Jedi that are ignoring the Skywalker at the bottom of the pit.

Including Ben’s grandfather that he’s been begging for years to help him.

Including his uncle who promised to always be with him. (We were robbed of Ghost Luke trolling Kylo. Robbed I tell you. Mark Hamill would have nailed that.)

Ben is at the bottom of a pit being ignored while the Jedi transform Rey into their sacrificial lamb for Girl Power points.

So, yeah, I hated how Rey defeated Palpatine. It was wrong. It wasn’t in union with her bondmate. It wasn’t through the power of love and compassion. It was Space Wonder Woman meets Harry Potter. And then she dies. Because the Jedi only ever viewed people as tools in their grand battle with the Sith.

But Ben. Oh, Ben loves Rey for who she is. And he climbs out of the pit without a lick of help from anyone and cradles her lifeless form in the most heartbreaking Pieta, and you can see on his face the moment he make his decision and gives everything of himself to bring her back. It was beautiful, and they share the most pure, the most perfect kiss.

And then he dies.

And that’s where the movie breaks me. Because he didn’t have to die. It doesn’t make sense. Why does Leia hold on until this moment? Why does Maz seem satisfied? Where did Ben go? Why does he go unmourned? Where is his Force ghost? This movie just leaves us with more questions.

And the very end kills me. Rey is on Tatooine. A dead world that holds no importance to her (or Leia, I might add). She buries the Skywalker sabers. A funeral. She sees the ghosts of Luke and Leia bless her as she takes on the Skywalker name. A name that she could have taken in a life-affirming way through marriage, but that appears as scavenged from the dead that she has surrounded herself with as she ends the movie an eternal child, side by side with a stolen droid.

It makes no sense.

But whence my nerd rage? Why do I care? Why have I devoted over 3K words to this?

Because the first two movies in this trilogy made me care about these characters.

When I first saw The Force Awakens, I connected immediately with her loneliness. Loneliness is something I get viscerally. I have always been socially awkward and had difficulty making friends. I rarely felt known or understood and I understood that deep longing to belong. When Rey was being interrogated by Kylo Ren, that was what struck me. He notices her loneliness.

And you realize that Kylo is projecting. That he is seeing in her a kindred spirit. He too is lonely, and trapped by fear into being stuck in a place that he knows in his heart of hearts is a dead world. He too is trapped by relics of the past.

So, you see, Rey and Kylo were both me. I had lived that loneliness. I had experienced profound isolation and the sense that no one truly understood me. I desperately wanted them to find their belonging and heal their wounds. And that’s certainly the story that TLJ picked up on and continued.

But there was more. I became fascinated with the question of how the son of Han and Leia fell, and I could see the possibilities in the pattern of their characters: Leia, the woman driven by duty, trying to build the New Republic to make a better galaxy for her son, and leaving her son vulnerable to predation in the process; Han, a man who had only just stopped running from responsibility, and who’s own lack of father figures left him feeling inadequate as a father. Throw in a villain who can groom and psychically abuse their son and you have the ingredients for a tragedy.

And because I identified with Leia, Ben became, in a way, an additional child. A parent’s greatest fear is that in trying to do the right thing for your child you inadvertently make things worse. Poor Leia. She needed a mother to tell her child mattered more than a bill in the Senate. That the galaxy could wait. But Palpatine killed her mother. Both her mothers, because he was as complicit in the death of Breha Organa as he was in the death of Padme Amidala Naberrie.

So when Ben Solo died, it was like losing a child. And anyone who knows me personally knows that I do not choose that phrasing lightly. And being a mother, there is always a sense of survivor’s guilt. The sense that if you had done the right thing, it wouldn’t have happened. It doesn’t matter if that isn’t the truth. It’s how it feels.

I have met so many people online who identify with Ben Solo because they were abused as children. Who like him processed their trauma in unhealthy ways. It’s not where I come from, but I have the capacity to empathize and hear the message they’re inadvertently being told: that if you do bad things because you’ve been groomed and manipulated and brainwashed, you can’t come back. Even if you turn your life around, it won’t matter. You’ll only find peace in death and you will die unremembered as punishment for your sins. And your family will replace you with someone nicer and easier to live with.

But I can hear you saying: It’s not that deep. It’s fake and in space. It’s just a story.

Well, here’s the problem:

1)    The brain does not distinguish real people from fictional characters. The part of the brain that produces serotonin and dopamine can’t distinguish fact from fiction. This is actually why art has the power to heal. The catharsis experienced in a work of art can help us process trauma because we relate to the characters in the story. But the flip side is that stories can cause genuine trauma. If we related to characters in a story and they are treated unjustly, we feel that injustice and it hurts as badly as if it were real.

2)    Ben Solo was written to be sympathetic. He is the child of beloved characters. His backstory is one filled with pain. He was failed by every family member who should have protected him. He was abused physically and mentally for years. Recently published materials exonerate him from the destruction of the Jedi temple. It was all part of a plot to push him to the Dark. All Ben ever wanted was to be loved for who he was. And that was snatched away from him.

3)    I can’t turn off my brain. I can’t stop asking questions and trying to make sense of things. I can help but see the Chekhov’s guns and the symbols and the messages, however inadvertent.

4)    It is a grand failure of a movie if it only works on a surface level and not when you start digging deeper. Every other Star Wars movie, including The Phantom Menace, rewards the person who can’t turn off their brain. This was the first one that falls apart so completely the second you start asking questions.

I wish I could like this movie. I was prepared to like it if not love it. And while I got Ben’s redemption and the Rey and Kylo romance that I wanted, I feel like I got nothing. Like they don’t matter at all.

I am planning to start new hobbies in the new year. I got some war gaming miniatures painting sets for Christmas and I’m glad I have a new special interest to pour myself into. I have enjoyed sharing my love of Star Wars trivia with my kids but it just hurts too much at the moment to spend time thinking about a franchise that has been so  badly mangled. I’m probably in the bargaining stage of grief at the moment. I wholly buy the theory that there was happy ending filmed and someone blinked in the game of chicken, leaving us the mess that we were handed.

I’m also planning to get back to writing. If even Disney can’t tell a fairy tale properly anymore, it’s time for a new batch of writers to get out there and tell the stories I want to hear. I am sick of grimdark fantasies and cynicism masquerading as sophistication. I may write a fanfic or two to fix the story in my mind, but I think that ultimately I need to be creating original works. I know that there are children eager to believe in happy endings, plenty of women who believe that Byronic heroes can be redeemed, and not a few men who will buy both if the story is well told.

[vaguely-concerned]

I’m back! Temeraire Let’s Read:Tongues of Serpents

- Tharkay literally shows up at the beginning of the second sentence; STRONG start, I highly approve, great improvement on every level

fsdafhsadkjlfh cooly tossing tables and throwing people’s drinks in their faces in the bar brawl fkjsdhfksdalfhasdj this ain’t his first rodeo huh

- these dumbasses having to clean up from the bar brawl before going home so their dragons don’t go out there and demand to have a word with the dudes who bullied their lil boys... oh my  g o d 

- “it was true, if one wished to be very particular about such things, that laurence was a convicted felon”  t e m e r a i r e... ~*technicality schmechnicality*~ it was barely treason at all really  

also temeraire being in super protective mother hen/older brother mode over the eggs is perfect  

- Jane Rolands bluff, jovial letter writing is Everything

- “Have Temeraire throw him overboard,” Tharkay had suggested laconically, when Laurence had escaped to his quarters for a little relief and some piquet . . . “He can fish him out again later,” he added, as an afterthought.

A VISIONARY. An unmitigated joy. “Have Temeraire throw him overboard”. He says what we’re all thinking. 

- AAAAAAAAH MUTUAL FIRST NAME BASIS!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL WTF HAVE THEY BEEN DOING ON THIS TRIP TELL ME IN DETAIL WHEN THE SWITCH HAPPENED PLEASE (also I really like that the first instance we see is “But Tenzing, I cannot trust myself” b/c that was literally the whole point of that scene in VoE. laurence... yes you can. tfw your crush is the goodiest of twoshoes and can barely move for it and doesn’t even knoooow)

- y’know if Laurence could get over this thought that asking a direct question to a friend is just ~*intolerably rude*~ he could get so much shit done 

(I guess tharkay, clearly a follower of the rosa diaz school of ‘no one is ever going to know shit about me’, is like fuck yeah I’ve struck gold with this one)

- “So spake the pot” oh I do love Actually Pretty Chill Dad William Laurence finally letting the snark out more frequently, it suits him very much (I guess his main claims to fame in a lot of circles is a) treason and b) spoiling his dragon rotten)

- rankin’s name is mentioned and everyone’s like HIIISSSSSSSS and RIGHTLY SO FUCK THAT GUY JUSTICE FOR LEVITAS

- temeraire is talking to the egg about consent and saying he’ll make sure it won’t have to do anything it doesn’t want to fjklsadhfkaslhfsd my heart

- lol lol lol weeeell in hindsight who could’ve guessed captain and second in command of the dragon pirates would have a materialistic superficial kid huh

- . . . Granby said, with a look half affection and half exasperation oh granby baby still carrying that torch huh

- lol lol lol just the implication of sara maden and laurence silently tops up his drink and he’s like ‘cheers’ and they’re both quiet for a moment flskdfs 

if you think about it that must’ve been such a wild day in his life tho -- like first  Laurence furiously fires him for being gone at a crucial moment and then immediately unfires him when it turns out he’s been chasing a lead and being the only goddamn person really working on solving all their problems (as is his wont), then he finds out his ex is getting married and steadfastly pretends it doesn’t even bother him, lol what are feelings I heard only losers have them (extremely relatable -- I guess he must have known it was in the cards though, because he specifically tells Laurence at the beginning he didn’t intend to go back to Istanbul, so it’s been over for a while?) then they go on a life and death chase through the sewers, and THEN, before he knows it, after half a book of being kind of a mistrustful dick to him, Laurence does a 180° and is there offering eternal friendship with big soulful eyes after seeing him get upset one time and y’know I guess I see why that got to him lol 

- aw man I know it’s never going to happen but I am getting sort of wistful and teary-eyed over this pirate (cough cough I mean legally sanctioned privateer of course) AU that’s going entirely to waste

here are some tags I left on this superb piece of fanart: #I just got to the part where tharkay makes the suggestion and like... I know it's not happening #but what a shimmering tender mother of pearl dream to carry in one's heart lol #just a lil pirate family out there wrecking shit #temeraire would get wind of what the east india company actually does and they'd inevitably turn against them and fuck 'em up... *sigh* #fix it fic: the boys kiss and the east india company is stopped from committing further atrocities! all is well

so that’s basically my position on that

- “I’m sure there’s nothing too dangerous out there, in the fucking untamed Australian wilderness,” Temeraire said, tempting fate to a frankly anxiety-inducing extent 

- hell yeah demane is the only one with presence of mind to actually find some food; you go buddy <3

- my boy tharkay slinking off in the middle of the night without telling anyone and solving everyone’s problems... *dabs at eyes* just like old times

- oh wow rankin really is just a piece of shit in every way huh

- fhasdklhfsadfsad temeraire being like ‘I know tharkay is a strong independent human who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions and don’t need no dragon... but also he’s clearly one of my humans tho why is he riding on another dragon :(’ THE CUTEST SHIT

- temeraire silently dissing his dad over refusing to believe in ghosts ~*except*~ for the holy spirit adslfhaskjdlhfs

- demane taking in the strange little hatchling... im crey... he truly hits me straight in the heart every time

also laurence steadfastly Doing The Right Thing and following his convictions is so deeply healing after all that bullshit he went through in the last book... makes me feel all safe and calm inside haha

- actually when you think about it it’s so fucked up that they apparently just straight up murder dragons with birth defects in england as a matter of course b/c like. dragons come out of the egg fully sentient and capable of understanding what’s being said around them. kulingile literally understood every word they were saying as they discussed whether or not they should be KILLING HIM.  j e s u s  thank god for demane and laurence’s stubborn insistence on being good

- temeraire going straight from mother hen to extremely impatient and jealous older brother the moment an egg hatches never gets old. all these dumb little babies just complaining and stealing his crew ugh (HOW FUCKING CUTE is him deciding kulingile could be a scholar or something tho #dragon rights)

- “I wish,” Temeraire said to Laurence, “I do wish that other dragons were not always thinking me peculiar . . . it makes one doubtful.” BABY BOY NOOOO he’s just so sweet and he’s so secretly scared that laurence might resent him a little after the whole treason business and OW right in the parental heart that fucks me up

- Temeraire’s indignant “Oh!”s always soothe my soul it’s so adorable

- little emily roland yelling “damn you all for cowards!” after a bunch of grown men fleeing while she reloads her gun and takes aim again is incredible poetic cinema (and also demane joining her... I love the bond they’ve got going on in the background here)

- aw poor sipho :( at least he still has temeraire to nerd out with and stuff but that’s some difficult shit to process for a kid

kulingile bobbing around tethered to temeraire like a small balloon at a fair is such an image, what a blessing, temeraire’s exasperated brand of babysitting is so funny

- laurence being a Dad to the kids in his crew... mana from heaven

- YESSS they crossed the endless miles of DEADLY AUSTRALIAN WILDERNESS so laurence could be MORTIFIED as the emperor’s adopted son at a party this is the content I am here for

- hell yeah let’s play a round of pimp my captain!!!!!!!!!!

“And,” Laurence said. “And you are certain that this should be appropriate for the occasion; not, perhaps, excessive?” I can’t  b r e a t h e  he can’t even say shit because his dragon boi is so happy fsaldfjsldhfasjlh and then granby making fond fun of him what a beautiful cherry on top of this sweet sweet laurence being embarrassed sundae 

- william ‘I’m here to kick ass and describe menswear in fastidious detail and I’ve already kicked my own ass twice today’ laurence strikes again

- this description of the dragons sitting around squabbling as they watch shiny sparkly things is the most endearing few pages in modern literature do not @ me

- it’s kind of fucked up that the emperor of china is giving laurence more of the sort of warmth and validation a father should than his actual dad ever did lol. u did good curing the dragon plague, weird european adopted son I am proud of you

- every time temeraire is really upset about something my soul suffers a small wound

thank god he doesn’t actually know what opium is really used for most of the time yet (also I am obligated to divulge that I am entirely charmed by tharkay’s sardonic yet clear eyed cynicism on the issue, I cannot be anything but what I am and he hasn’t had enough proper page time in this half of the book so I will take what I can get)  

- ...I kind of just realized that I imagine the sea serpents basically as long-ass gyaradoses... OH NO

I will say I respect the ‘give no fucks’ vibe they give off -- it’s a real ‘we’re here to eat fish & party and if you try to get in our way we’re gonna have you as a snack’ mood and I cannot fault them for it

- iskierka is such a fuckboi it’s glorious 

- nOOOOOO tharkay is leaving again fuck ;_______; is his life just an endless procession of semi-unwillingly having to go back to istanbul again these days 

Temeraire did not see why Tharkay should have to go so far, only to deliver news; and particularly when he did not seem as though he wished to go, very much. DDDDDDDD: THIS SUCKS you know that when a) he’s letting it show and b) temeraire notices it that he is dragging his heels big time over this lol

‘there can be very little to call you back to this part of the world any time soon’ LAURENCE YOU 24 KARAT IDIOT YOU ARE HERE HE CAME TO AUSTRALIA FOR YOU ALREADY WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

all that said whenever I see a ‘Tenzing’ on the page my heart does a happy little dance. ah well now let’s settle in and wait for what horrible catastrophe will happen now that tharkay is gone... come back soon buddy

- ooooooooooooh that is so good, using the last chapter + epilogue to show how the... idk moral wound I guess laurence received victory of eagles has finally healed, that’s so reassuring. he just wants to do good things for good causes and can’t be badgered, cajoled, threatened or convinced to do anything less anymore and it’s all so sweet and well earned. that’s some good development through this book too, from ‘tenzing I cannot trust myself’ to this. excellent stuff

- while I did quite enjoy this book for the character moments it is incredibly weirdly structured? like the beginning drags a bit with the quite uninteresting colony politics and stuff but then they’re finally travelling and then... nothing really happens plot wise before the sea serpents freak the fuck out at the end there lol. I’m mostly a character-oriented reader tho so I’m pretty fine with it.

ETA: actually now that I think about it I’d say that my biggest gripe with this book is that it doesn’t engage at all with the perspective of the native australian people? even though one of the dragons settles down with one group? god knows it’s not like there was no time to dive into it, considering all that time spent in the fucking wilderness lol

we’re going to the inca empire next tho apparently fuck YEAH!!! that’s such an underexplored and extremely interesting part of history, my body is Ready

[dmyear3]

Obituary

This performance is the second in a series, both extending my project beyond inanimate pieces and into the live and theatrical – forming a cyclic narrative of life and death in interaction between my body and art objects. My first performance was of myself being “born” from a hollow sculpture resembling a human or animal carcass and performing improvised and very physical actions with a set of clay “bones”, my body a writhing and automatic medium between bodily states of birth and remains. For the next performance I wanted to retain the hugely important aspects of physicality and ritual, but in a very different form that is more pared-down and action-based (while still implying essentially the same narrative). The first element I decided on was the costume. I wanted to wear something that would act as a blank canvas which would physically record the event as gestural paint strokes, while also transforming my appearance in the performance. This resulted in making a very rough kimono-like garment with long drapery on the sleeves that would both obscure the form of my body and provide a lot of surface area to easily paint onto. I sketched out a few different versions of what the purpose would actually entail – originally it was to appear quite sacrificial and religious, with the painted garment crucified and suspended above the space. This version would have been performed in from of the stained-glass windows of the life drawing room where I performed, to provide a church-like setting. These connotations would align my interest in rebirth with biblical imagery such as the Second Coming of Christ, bringing the act of ritual into the classical European rather than the eastern references that have continuously popped up in regards to my work. It was only after already having a rough plan set out that I decided to store the paint inside of clay sculptures. I sculpted these pieces to resemble the ambiguous remains of body parts, as amorphous organic forms resembling bones and organs and flesh. The lack of colour and earthy material suggests age, withering and mummification. I filled them with a red-brown liquid (heavily watered-down acrylic paint) – the specific colour and density was partially inspired by a news story from earlier this year, about a sarcophagus that had been dug up and was discovered to be filled with a similar red-brown “water” – which was in fact ancient human remains decomposed to the point of liquidation. This reference to ancient remains, both in the appearance of the sculptures and the liquid they contained, ended up being a more important focal point of this piece to me rather than any religious connotation. I instead began to see the performance as a mournful act of transferring ancient bodies between forms of decay and new life – the body being a liquid that I attempt to reincarnate in the birth of new forms and continue the natural cycle of generational reiteration. An aspect of memory comes into play here, as I grasp at the remains and transcribe their very material onto myself. This led to me titling the work Obituary. I ended up drawing indistinct human figures onto the surfaces of my garment, and in the performance I attempted to fill in their forms with the colours of the clay and the paint – the sort of “essence” of the body being literally transferred from vessel to vessel. It was only when I began to set up in the space that I decided to use the entire room rather than the area around the window, and to place the sculpture from my last performance in the centre of the room. This work was intended to act as a kind of contextual icon that referred back to the idea of a cycle: a bleached and withered mother figure giving birth to a pile of dusty bones as a depiction of simultaneous death and birthing. I decided to not practice any part of this performance. I didn’t know if the paint would try too soon, how visible the marks would be on my garment, how much of the sculptures would be left intact, how long it would take, whether the audience would be implicated or not, or how I would myself be acting in the moment. I wanted every aspect to be automatic and unpredictable, knowing how it would begin but now how it would end. This to me added a further sense of desperation and an organically raw physicality. 

Certain things that I hadn’t considered came about during the performance. Firstly the paint leaked from small cracks in the porous unfired clay, leaving puddles on the canvases beneath the pieces. This liquid also soaked into both the clay and the garment much more than I thought it would, meaning it didn’t go as far or lend itself to big gestural mark-making. The wet, slippery clay however was really great to work with in my hands and was able to itself be painted onto the fabric. My audience fully entered my performance space and wandered about it at their own paces as I continued my actions, either following me or looking closer at the other objects. I hadn’t really considered how immersive this piece had the potential to be, so this was very interesting to me. It was brought up that within a typical gallery space the audience would probably stay back, but that this immersive-ness added another layer to the work. As this was a group tutorial there was a lot of talking about the work, and everyone agreed that the performance would have more impact in silence, with the only sounds being those made by my actions. Sound is definitely an important consideration to me so I agree with this, and would have had the group speak after the performance was complete if I had much more time. It was also interesting listening to the group slowly understand the workings of the performance as they took the time to notice and contrast certain aspects: the clay pieces being like artefacts, the liquid coming from the inside, the linework on my garment being figures and these figures being deliberately filled in. I could sense a feeling of slight mystery in the way they observed my actions as the performance began to unfold. A narrative was definitely picked up on, and the sculpture in the centre of the space helped expand this contextually. The sculpture was read as something I was actually performing to, either as some kind of sacrificial offering or as a prior iteration of my “character” – a kind of previous life or ancestor. The latter reading was fascinating to me, and it felt like a huge success in breaking ground between my intentions and the viewer’s understanding of my work. In terms of this character, I was seen as not being at all myself but filling a theatrical role – this was aided by my complete silence and masked appearance, recalling old East Asian and European theatre traditions. It was suggested that I extend this idea further by fully obscuring my face with no sign of my real identity. I was considered sad or solemn as I carried out the performance, and my other body language was noticed too – a violence in the destruction of the clay, but a deliberate delicacy in the soft touches and caresses of my hands around the broken pieces. The emotional resonance embodied in my physicality itself was another success of this presentation (Anqi actually came up to me after the presentation and told me she nearly cried as she watched me break apart the clay – this has stuck with me). While still appearing ritualistic and having a sense of ancient history and tradition, the impression seemed to be that I wasn’t referencing any one culture. Instead the aesthetic and motifs were read as quite pancultural – but with a mix of influences including the kimono silhouette of the garment an element of European figurative art. The pieces left over from this performance are now works in themselves: the painted garment, a pile of small pieces of clay partially stained red and now resembling rubble, and the canvases beneath the full sculptures that now carry the traces from leaked paint and the destruction of the objects – clay and fine dust adhered to the fabric by dry paint as an organic memory of the event. I’m planning on suspending all of the fabric works (garment and canvases) as an installation work, with the clay pieces either as a pile beneath or sorted through and displayed individually like museum relics. The performance now is only the origin of another branch of my project, one chapter in the cyclic narrative which leads to another expansion, just as a performance and other works prior led to Obituary as one of multiple paths. The remains become the work and the body changes vessel once again. When performing again, I definitely need to consider further the implications of performing live. This includes planning how to document my work and what kind of context it needs to be performed in. I was meant to take my shoes off before getting into costume but I forgot, and by the time I was “in character” it was too late and so they became read as intentional and affected a small amount of discussion regarding ancient vs contemporary – small details like this need to be ironed out if I want my work to be as successful as possible. Working intuitively and unrehearsed however felt very organic to me and I would like to totally exaggerate this method somehow, potentially with more possibilities for automatic interaction between myself and objects/environment and fewer pre-planned prompts. The location itself could also change the reading of the work completely – it was brought up that this performance would seem almost frightening if seen outside of an art school/gallery context, and that quality of unexpectedness or more intense reaction from the viewer is very appealing to me. I also need to think about duration, as when I finished this presentation I hadn’t reached any sort of conclusion or climax. I like the idea of performing continuously as people come and go, especially in an immersive environment. My concepts and references seem to be getting through extremely well to the viewer, so now I need to focus on experimenting with presentation and impact within the live performance space.

[wuh2k]

Try and get me fired?

Now I literally can’t be.

Undoubtedly due to my recent fight with the school over commensurate pay increases (mostly successful btw), my new direct superior decided to try and get me fired.

Issued a formal complaint where they claimed I’d been “erratic”, “aggressive”, “confrontational”, and “demanding” in an encounter with them in their office where I’d simply popped my head in the door to ask a question about who I could turn in some paperwork to.

Flat out called everything they claimed a complete fabrication in the disciplinary meeting. Didn’t matter, got a formal, written reprimand. Alright then...that’s how we’re going to play this? Fine.

Started recording every single meeting with people above me. After some very passive aggressive (I was recording after all) criticisms of my constant recording, the school suddenly realised I’d every right to and, given the sheer number of other staff members complaining about the new superior (specifically about him fabricating lies) realised they’d dug themselves into a deep hole of shit.

Then they tried it again. Only this time they were so arrogant, having gotten away with it before, that they complained about my behaviour in the weekly staff meeting. Which took place in front of twenty other teachers. I won’t go into the details of my counter-complaint, about their behaviour in the same meeting, and their behaviour when they accosted me outside the staff room afterwards.

I knew what was coming. I knew their word would be taken over mine. So I got ready for the disciplinary meeting. About fifteen minutes into it, as they were reading out the description of my supposed unprofessional behaviour, I interrupted: “At this time I’d like to introduce fourteen signed declarations from other members of staff present during that meeting which state that I in no way behaved unprofessionally.” The looks on the director and the secretary’s faces were priceless.

Later, the testimony regarding my behaviour written by the stooge who rode their coattails into a senior teacher position at the school was read out. Including a description about how they felt my superior had behaved with the utmost professionalism in dealing with my unconscionable behaviour during the meeting. Again I interrupt. “At this time I’d like to draw attention to the six statements I introduced earlier which also detail the extremely unprofessional behaviour they witnessed on the part of [my superior] towards me during the meeting.” The look on their faces after that one was even better.

Lastly, they start to read out his account of my behaviour when he ambushed me outside the staff room. Immediately, before the director’s even read two sentences: “I’d like to interrupt at this point if I may to point out that in their own statement [my superior] has admitted to addressing a member of staff regarding what they themselves describe as a disciplinary matter, in a public area of the school, in full view of both other members of staff and students, which I consider to be the height of unprofessionalism.” No looks to relish on their faces for this one. Just shock. They hadn’t even realised he’d shot himself in the foot.

After all that? No action taken against me, and a formal reprimand against them. They’re not allowed meet with me alone and the director has made it abundantly clear to them that they won’t even look at any complaints from them against me in the future.

So thanks fuckface. Thanks to you and the scrupulous records the school kept of the whole process (probably to ensure my smooth, legal termination) I’m now unfireable and never have to talk to you again.

[kateanddevinreview]

London Has Fallen

In which Kate and Devin write a porno

Devin: Okay, so this movie is just Gerard Butler being a badass right? Is this the one with Denzel Washington? Or are neither of those things right.

Kate: It’s something like that.

Devin: Well, Butler showed up in the credits, but so did morgan freeman?

Kate: It’s a trifecta!!

Devin: Or maybe I'm just racist and mixed them up.

Kate: Or maybe it’s the two of them being badass together.

Devin: I made some comment the other day about minorities being underrepresented at the oscars or something and they asked what actors I think should win instead and I blanked on literally every minority actor I knew.

Kate: Hahahah. It’s still true though. And to be fair, could you name any white actors?

Devin: My brain got stuck on Tom Hardy and forgot literally every other actor on earth

Kate:I think he’s on tv now anyway. So far this movie is starting a bit slow. Do you think someone is going to be shot soon?

Devin: I find it weird that we are in....India?

Kate:  I think we’re at an Indian wedding. Terrorist’s daughter is getting married

Devin: This is set up for motive?

Kate: Probs

Devin: The Phantom of the Opera and Harvey Dent go for a jog

Kate: Why are politicians always running? I don’t think they do that much

Devin: I think cause DC? it's an easy excuse to pan around the lawn

Kate: Ok well fine, coming at me with movie reasons. Wait, is this a sequel?

Devin: Is it? Was the last one just called "London"?

Kate: I was thinking Gerald saved a president in the last one?

Devin: She has crazy eyes

Kate: She does but she’s pregnant

Devin:  I'll forgive it if we get through this movie without her vomiting.

Kate:  She’s in like her third tri already so she really shouldn’t

Devin:  Google says this is a sequel, to Olympus Has Fallen. Lots of stuff falling apparently

Kate: Knew it!!! I’ve seen that one too

Devin: Really? I'm guessing last time he saved President Harvey Dent from terrorists, wooed or impregnated his wife, and got hired for secret service or unfired from secret service

Kate: Unfired, if it’s what I’m thinking of

Devin: This time he'll save the Prime Minister from terrorists, see his kid born, and...uh. Be knighted? That's my guess

Kate: Seems like a totally logical guess to me. I’m betting he discovers the Prime Minister was murdered. I don’t think people are expected to attend state funerals?

Devin: I think it's cause his vice isn't available? I think normally this is the kind of thing they send him for. But I am basing that on episodes of Madam Secretary so who knows

Kate: New guess!! President is killed and Butler has to protect Freeman

Devin: Hmmm. Maybe. Is Freeman the Vice?

Kate: Yes. He said “Hello, Mr VP”

Devin: I'm missing like half of this dialogue, idk how

Kate: Cause it’s boring

Devin: I want splosions!

Kate: This baby melodrama music is not my favorite. Once again I feel like writing is letting us down?

Devin: Yeah. Be better hollywood!

Kate: Also important people shouldn’t just sign shit without looking at it

Devin: is this the fringe guy? No. Who is he? He's someone

Kate: I think? No?

Devin: Fringe guy is similar but different. Oh! The Magicians? Magicians teacher guy?

Kate: No, definitely not him

Devin: IMDBing....

Kate: “Most protected event on earth”= everyone will die

Devin: Yup. This cast listing order is stupid. Do we know British Gerard Butler's name?

Kate: You mean the head of the British security? Also no. Also I think they’re going to use kids?

Devin: Yes, British guy. Mr. Sands! From Limitless. Thanks wikipedia, for your superior cast list

Kate: Limitless. That’s right, I never watched much of that

Devin: I really liked the main guy and all the arts and crafts in that show. I'm sad it was cancelled. Also we should add the movie to our review list

Kate: Yes!

Devin: Splosion! I didn't think those guards were supposed to have real guns? Then again EMTs should definitely not have rocket launchers

Kate: Hahaha, yeah, those cops are definitely plants. It’s clearly a very well orchestrated attack

Devin: Pretty sure only america gives their cops guns. Also, rocket launcher

Kate: Wow I don’t care how this movie ends the world would not recover from this

Devin: Yeah Kate, it's fallen. Show. Us. The. Egg. It's not London unless I see the big glass egg and the ferris wheel

Kate: How did they know that one president wouldn’t leave on time?

Devin: Trackers? Or they caused the traffic?

Kate: No, he decided?

Devin: Motorcycles, a car's only weakness

Kate: Nice driving!

Devin: Don't injure civilians!

Kate: Ummmm, Devin. I think that ship has sailed.

Devin: He rammed the bad guy into a non bad guy car!

Kate: Oh fuck. Ok so who is the black lady? Is she the First Lady?

Devin: Voight buddy, you could have moved. He's the driver, she's the head of secret service

Kate: He was driving! It was a bullet! Give him some credit. Is she?

Devin: Yes. According to wikipedia

Kate: She’s not doing much. And she hunkered with the president?

Devin: Right? Stop flailing. Where is your gun, woman?

Kate: Oh god. That was brutal

Devin: That was very brutal

Kate: Why didn’t they park closer to the chopper?

Devin: Crashing in 3...2...oh ok nvm

Kate: Hahaha

Devin: He's got a cane so you know he's evil

Kate: So true

Devin: Moral of this movie: don't trust the handicapped

Kate: And yet, they didn’t detect a plan of this magnitude

Devin: Uh, did those people just have labels?

Kate: Yes. NSA and something else

Devin:  Like, movie? Movie. We do not care

Kate: I’m assuming it will be important later?

Devin: Why is the lady not doing anything?

Kate: Nice, flares! I like flares. Why are they flying so low anyway?

Devin: I got distracted googling the secret service

Kate: Anything pertinent to share?

Devin: Apparently the director just does the boring shit, so idk why she's even here

Kate: Ummmm, I think the movie should end here?

Devin: Yes they all died. The End

Kate: No way anyone survived that. I call bullshit

Devin: Also, I assumed presidents would have like one guy their whole time in office? But apparently they hire someone new a lot. Oh she dead.

Kate: For the secret service?

Devin: As director. Like Obama had 2

Kate: I mean, that’s four years for each

Devin: Trump has already had 2. The first guy for like 2 months? 1 month?

Kate: Well, Trump does that a lot. He’s had like 8 communication directors

Devin: I just wonder if they choose to leave or if the president purposefully swaps them out

Kate: Also working for the president is really intense, so maybe you just burn out and have to leave

Devin: Makes sense. The local biker gang is here

Kate: I don’t think bikes make that noise. That is dumb

Devin: Yes. Also no one checked the wreck

Kate: At least we know from earlier scenes they are fast runners!

Devin: This looks like he put his manifesto on youtube

Kate: What point is there in entertaining this phone call? Also why does he care about one president?

Devin: Imagine if he called before they watched the video! Like 5 minutes earlier

Kate: Right? He should take the uniform too

Devin: 

"Who is this?"

"It's...seriously? You didn't see my video?"

"h/o googling it"

"It's on youtube"

"yeah one sec, gotta sit through this 50 shade of grey trailer"

Kate: Ahhhhhhh Being hunted by motorbikes!! Oh no

Devin: Sure, that's subtle. Also this is a regular subway

Kate: I like that he was able to loot the body for weapons. Very practical

Devin: Jesus Gerard Butler. WTF? You went from zero to torture in no time

Kate: I know, little intense. Definitely running on adrenaline

Devin: This is the most 'murrican fucking movie. You cannot convince me that huge squads of racists didn't come out of this movie going "rah rah ‘murrica"

Kate: Oh god. Unfortunately yes

Devin: Although these talky bits suck. I'd rather have more fighting. Oh, thanks label, I really cared what time it was

Kate: Everyone is dead, that’s what this discussion is. I mean surrender and then ambush. How many people do they think there are? You’re not going to be professional right now? Weird

Devin: Blah blah blah. Bitch it was a wedding. Of course his family was there

Kate: How did you not know his family was there? It was a wedding. So dumb

Devin: What even is the point of that dialogue? There better be drugs in his water or something

Kate: What kind of shoddy intel are you all operating on? This is dumb. Do criticize if necessary. You have to teach them. Also off color jokes?

Devin: "You know what's most important Mike? Children. That's why we are never going to spend time with ours in any subsequent movie."

Kate: Of course it’s not your delta team.

Devin: Yeah why was that message not in code?

Kate: Zoom in!

Devin: Enhance! Your safe house has a fucking skylight!?

Kate: Seems like a pretty lame safe house. Oh this is gross

Devin: This movie is very gratuitous with its gore

Kate: It really is. And president you should not have done that. You are not almost out of this by any long shot

Devin:  There must be a porno of this where they fuck right then

Kate:  Did all of MI6 just die?

Devin: I'm not going to lie, that weird pirate porno you made us watch that one time is better than this movie

Kate: Haha! Oh pirates. Also my taste is terrible because I still enjoy this

Devin: I don't believe the hackers would make this basic of a mistake

Kate: No, me neither

Devin: Also driving seems like the quickest way to be spotted?

Kate: They kept everything under the radar but you didn’t notice this earlier?

Devin: Ok I guess at least the car is bulletproofed

Kate: How many of these terrorists are there supposed to be?

Devin: It's just the same 4 guys, they're really fast. They keep healing when they're off screen

Kate: Seems like an infinite supply. Mutants!! Also Mike is still somehow always faster

Devin: Now I want an action movie where 3/4 of the way through you realize he's been re-killing the same 5 guys over and over and surprise! it's really a fantasy/horror movie!

Kate: That would be so good. Change the whole game. I do oddly think this would make a good porno with very very little change

Devin: It's cause there's so much standing really close while breathing heavily and the plot is basically just as thin

Kate: Yeah pretty much. It’s a male romance novel

Devin: Also there have been.....5 women? in this entire movie. 6, I guess. Wife, mother, secret service director, beehive, assistant cop, MI6

Kate: Assistant cop?

Devin: Black lady?

Kate: I don’t remember her

Devin: She was in the bullpen with not!Fringe guy

Kate: Ok sure

Devin: Oh, ok, and random lady who had a text label I didn't read

Kate: There was the turning 30 woman and one lady head of state.

Devin: Still, none of these people shooting right now? There's like 20 guys in this scene!

Kate: Nope. Can’t have women in harm’s way unless they don’t have a choice. Also no lady terrorists

Devin: Only lady terrorists allowed are dead motivation ones

Kate: Also I’m subbing lady because it’s faster to type than woman

Devin: Agreed

Kate: Omg. Whispered “Mike.” Straight out of a romance novel

Devin: What? Are you ahead of me or did I miss it?

Kate: Maybe? The president whispered it

Devin: No! I must have missed the Mike whisper

Kate: He should be really tired by now. He didn’t have dinner!

Devin: "Hear that? My boyfriend is coming"

Kate: He really should just kill the president. It doesn’t make sense not to

Devin: There is so much manly eye contact and face holding

Kate: So much

Devin: Like I'm pretty sure almost this exact sequence happened in Outlander

Kate: In the porn there would be a scene where the president seduced him, Mike walked in on it, and then they have a threesome

Devin: With the bad guy?

Kate: Yup

Devin: That seems like it would be out of place plot wise. Would the bad guy turn himself in or something?

Kate: No. Just random sex that doesn’t make sense

Devin: Weird. The sex should make sense!

Kate: It’s for real a thing that happens in porn, you get whiplash. Oh god. This is lame. Really?

Devin: One punch where he runs all the way across the screen. So stupid

Kate: Did we learn who the brit mole was?

Devin: Nope. They hacked the police station I think? Damn! Wheelchair guy didn't even get to make a speech about how bad America is. This movie is not even pretending to care about America's mistakes

Kate: Why didn’t he just shoot everyone?

Devin: Out of bullets?

Kate: He hasn’t run out of guns until now

Devin: What even is this dialogue right now?

Kate: Really dumb

Devin: "You fuck with America? OH HELL NO. WE BAT SHIT. WE WILL FUCKING MURDER ALL Y'ALL."

Kate: America’s not even 500. Witty banter!

Devin: "EVEN OUR PRESIDENT WILL PICK UP A GUN FOR MURDER TIME"

Kate: Also he’s not dead because you haven’t killed him?

Devin: Yeah you just punched him a bit and talked nonsense

Kate: Once again, another thing they wouldn’t have survived.

Devin: I feel like the porno version of this has them go back to their wives at the end with lots of meaningful looks and sly smiles between the two main dudes. Like "yeah, we'll do this again next mission"

Kate:  Oh no! But yes probably. Why was there a lock in an elevator?

Devin: Is the president the only one alive from this whole thing? They would definitely make out in this elevator

Kate: I think one other world leader survived? There was a missing link to the terrorist?

Devin: I guess?

Kate: Who sent a fucking video?

Devin: Honestly this plot is stupid Yeah he's def the mole. Also he's running away? Like he obviously did it

Kate: Are we supposed to care about him or her? Because I do not

Devin: They would have had sex earlier in the porno

Kate: Yeah. It would have made more sense. Just kill him already

Devin: Also she would have just arrested him. I feel like the porno would have less murder

Kate: It’s weird that normally I complain about too much sex? But this would just be better as a porn

Devin: Yeah our review is basically "this would have made a better porno"

Kate: How would you have found him?

Devin: Who hears "look out your window" and looks up at the ceiling? Oh maybe that's what the missing link was?

Kate: Also the VP does not have the authority to call that type of strike

Devin: What is this 10 angled shot explosion? Ok, we've got a baby

Kate: So it’s been at least a few weeks

Devin: No prime minister but I didn't realize it was his funeral so I feel like the president is close enough. Now knighthood

Kate: Sure. They don’t know how emails work? Re: is for replies

Devin: "Many people would say this is our fault, but we're america so fuck those people. we'll kill those people."

Kate: “Commence spending no time with my kid”

Devin: In the porno version we end instead with a mirror of the earlier DC lawn scene, with them sitting on a bench watching their wives/kids, and the pres saying something like "still want to quit?" and Butler saying "and leave you, sir? Never." And then meaningful eye contact. Roll credits.

Kate: Hahahah

Devin: Okay, so scores

Kate: Yes. Scores.

Devin: 3/10 for the movie, 6/10 for the porno

Kate: I go a little higher movie? Like 4.5 for the movie.  6 for porno though. I think we can agree that no porn should ever rank higher than 7

Devin: Yeah. Like, even amazing porn is still porn

Kate: Ummmm tropes? So many, “family as our motivation”

Devin: “America is terrible and we never learn anything”?

Kate: Which is so hypocritical

Devin: “One man assumes command of literally every other character without argument”

Kate: Hahahaha. So like 7 on the tropes? They all fit the plot really well

Devin: Yeah, I mean it had a very particular niche and it played to it

Kate: Exactly

Devin: I'm going to give the title an 8/10. Catchy and accurate

Kate: I can agree. Thematic

Devin: London did pretty much fall. Like an old lady in a Life Alert commercial

Kate: Better than Olympus has fallen

Devin: Yeah, plus how fucking pretentious is it to call the white house "olympus"?

Kate: Exactly

Devin: What would the porn title be? I feel like they're usually puns?

Kate: Pun for sure. London may fall but our guys stay up

Devin: kind of long

Kate: It could be the tagline?

Devin: Oh yeah, good tagline. My brain gave me "Banging Private Ryan" which does not fit but is almost certainly a movie that exists

Kate: Hahahahaha. Banging president something? Whatever his name was

Devin: No idea, I called him Harvey Dent the whole movie. London Goes Down?

Kate: London laid down? Cause laid. Get it?

Devin: H/o I have to see if there is a real porn title for this. NSA people monitoring my internet searches, I'm really sorry

Kate: Gives them some spice! A story to take home

Devin: Top result for "London Has Fallen Porn Title" is:

"London Has Fallen movie condemned as racist 'terrorsploitation' "

"London Has Fallen is gun-barrel porn"

Kate: Whelp. Yep. I feel bad for enjoying it?

Devin: "London Has Fallen Is The Worst Film About Our City Ever"

Kate: Oh no it was a piece of shit for sure. Super fucking racist

Devin: “Blowing London.” That's my official submission

Kate: Nice! “Blowing London” is great. I thought you’d actually found it.

Devin: Ok, any parting words?

Kate:  It was a dumb racist movie that I feel guilty for enjoying anyway? Which means we should have more action movies made with better plots and motivation. And female representation!

Devin:  Or more action movies that are just porn

Kate:  Or that. What about you? Parting words?

Devin: If you want to see a movie where Gerard Butler brutally murders everyone, this is it. Or, you know, go watch 300, it is less awful.

Kate: So true.

[sacreddayclay]

I've put in the hours on these mugs and when I finally start seeing it come together, it fills up my empty tank with so many ideas and so much inspiration and it gets me motivated to start the next round. . I decided to put this much time in to these because I'm going to be moving soon and don't know exactly when I'll have more available and so I wanted to temporarily end it on a good note. . I'm saving a few of the best ones for a couple of giveaways in the downtime as well so keep an eye out for that. . I've got about a dozen more to finish up with decals before the final firing which I'm planning on doing in the next couple days, as these are literally holding us up with taking our first load of stuff up to our new home in Michigan. Ha! . If you want to be the first to be able to know when the preview of everything is up to see, then sign up for my mailing list on my website www.sacreddayclay.com (also link in bio) . Lastly, this mug and the last few that I've posted have decals on them that are unfired. The material that the decal is fused to (cover coat) is yellowish and will end up being clear after it gets fired. . Thanks so much for following along. I genuinely appreciate it. ❤️🙏😊 (at Morganton, North Carolina) https://www.instagram.com/p/COIG8uHjRN9/?igshid=1ha7ag9r9u3pj

[notesfromnayeshi]

Let’s chat about poison!

When John first reads about the Rifter in the Payshmura holy texts, Ravishan explains to him how the Rifter is killed:

“One holy man found Parfir’s single finger bone and it guided him. He created a poison to calm the Rifter, and when she slept, he cut off her leg, then used her own hungry bone to bleed her until she couldn’t fight. From Parfir’s single remaining finger bone, the first priest forged a golden key that could open the Rifter’s death. And from the Rifter’s own blood-soaked thigh bone, he carved the first yasi’halaun.”

So, the steps to kill the Rifter:

Poison them with some unnamed poison

Drain their blood with the Yasi’halaun

Suffocate them in Gray Space using the Ush’hala, the golden key

As I was reading, I realized how close Fikiri and Ourath came to accomplishing this during the Bell Dance. Before he arrived in Nurjima, Jath’ibaye had been poisoned. Ourath sends Kyle to him with another (or more of the same) poison. Then, when Kyle is wounded by the Yasi’halaun, Jath’ibaye bears the wound and the sword is fed by his blood. Basically the only step they were missing was the golden key. But, I do wonder if they got the poison right...

There are at least four mind-and/or-body-altering substances mentioned in the story. I’m curious about each of them, so let’s take them one by one.

Niru’mohim (literally translates to hot love. Not joking.)

This is, I guess, a sort of love potion. Or sex potion, more accurately. It affects men more strongly than women, because when Fikiri gives it to Ourath, Ourath asks if he’s going to have to fend off every man in Vundomu, and later Saimura is overcome by its effects while Besh’anya can tolerate it at least somewhat. Niru’mohim is made with blood, and making it with Jath’ibaye’s blood allows it to target him more specifically (and makes it stronger overall). Jath’ibaye claims that Ourath has been using this poison for years to keep Jath’ibaye from breaking up with him. Another interesting note, niru’mohim evidently causes scarring when it’s applied to the skin.

One thing that isn’t totally clear to me: the wearer of niru’mohim seems to be the seducer, rather than the seduced. Alidas mentions that whores will wear niru’mohim until their arms are covered in ropey scars. And yet, Kahlil thinks that the poison he was sent to deliver to Jath’ibaye was niru’mohim. From Jath’ibaye’s point of view, that would be a devious plan: Find a young man who looks like his dead lover, give him a vial of seduction juice, and send him to the glass palace to try to get some kind hold over Jath’ibaye. But, in reality, Kyle wasn’t supposed to be delivering the niru’mohim to Jath’ibaye. It was supposed to be Fensal, the other Lisam runner. So, was that poison really niru’mohim? Why give the poison *to” Jath’ibaye when it seems to work by being worn on the skin of someone who is trying to affect him? I think it’s possible that the poison that Kyle delivers to Jath’ibaye is actually something else, probably the same thing that he had been dosed with already, since we know that he was poisoned before arriving in Nurjima. Whatever he was given left him pale and feverish, which is basically the exact opposite of how Kahlil describes Jath’ibaye when he’s under the influence of niru’mohim at the Fai’daum party. Whichever poison Jath’ibaye might have given isn’t entirely clear, but it probably wasn’t niru’mohim.

Fathi

Fathi is interesting. On my first read, I thought fathi might be the poison that is given to the Rifter in the ritual of their death (which I’m going to call the Step 1 poison), because we know that it works on John and its effects sound like what the Step 1 poison should do: calm them so that the Kahlil can drain their blood and lock them in Gray Space. However, we later hear about another poison that is identified as the Step 1 poison: tumah’itam. Still, it’s interesting that the two are so similar. John actually compares the effects of Fathi with tumah’itam when he drinks the latter with Samsango in the prison.

Fathi can be brewed (Hann’yu brews it for the priests at Rathal’pesha), and whatever it’s made from might be a seasonally available plant, because Dayyid and Hannyu drink some together and discuss how this year’s batch is better than last year’s.

Tumah’itam (literally translates to peace and quiet)

Tumah’itam is, allegedly, the Step 1 poison: the poison that is used to aid in the death of the Rifter. It obviously doesn’t kill them, since John has drunk it twice and survived, but it seems to sedate him to the point where he dissociates for a while and can’t prevent his body from being harmed. Tumah’itam is kept on hand at Rathal’pesha and used in euthanasias for dying priests (if they are of a high enough rank).

Now, it’s interesting to note that Fikiri claims to have poisoned Jath’ibaye before he arrives in Nurjima. He says that the poison that Jath’ibaye was given wouldn’t kill him but would “aid his demise”. So it sounds like Fikiri thinks that whatever poison he gave Jath’ibaye is the Step 1 poison. But if Loshai thinks that tumah’itam is the poison that kills the Rifter, she might not have shared that information with Fikiri. Because whatever affects John is feeling from the poisoning, it’s definitely not the extreme, but short-lived, paralysis that comes from tumah’itam.

Goatweed

All of this brings me here, to goatweed. More than any other poison discussed in the series, goatweed intrigues me and makes me very suspicious.

First of all, there are a *ton* of random references to goatweed. Ravishan uses it to make himself seem sick so that Dayyid doesn’t wonder where he was while he was hanging out with Jahn in the wilderness. Kahlil finds some growing in Jath’ibaye’s indoor garden. After Kahlil’s memories return, when he is sick from the stress and guilt, he blames his illness on eating goatweed, which Yu’mir pesters his about until he explains what it does and what it looks like. Hann’yu requests goatweed as one of the herbs that he wants Jahn to bring back to Rathal’pesha from Amura’taye.

So, aside from a bunch of characters being interested in goatweed, what do we know about it?

It induces vomiting if the leaves are ingested

The leaves and stems cause skin irritation for witches and ushiri’im

It grows in the northern parts of Basawar

The leaves are gray with orange tips

It smells “musky” or “earthy”

In rural areas the call it “whores-torch” and use it to test for witchcraft

The roots of the plant can be distilled into a powerful poison

In Rathal’pesha they distill goatweed into a poison that Hann’yu describes as “potent enough to lay even a god low.”

And it was that phrasing right there that really interested me. Knowing that Hann’yu brews the Fathi for the priests at Rathal’pesha, and knowing that he will also be distilling the goatweed into a potent god-killing poison, my guess is that tumah’itam is made from goatweed, and that this is the Step 1 poison.

It’s hard to draw any meaningful conclusions from all of this, unfortunately. All I can say is that it seems like Ginn Hale went to great lengths to draw our attention to goatweed and make sure we knew what it did. If tumah’itam isn’t made from goatweed, then I would posit that it can’t be the Step 1 poison because there is no way that goatweed isn’t somehow involved. That would be an unfired Chekov’s Gun of massive proportions. If, however, I’m right and tumah’itam is made from goatweed and it is also the Step 1 poison… well, I’m not sure what the significance of that is. Other than to allow us all to, once again, marvel at the meticulous amount of detail that Ginn provides for any reader who cares to look for it.