#a lot of the time real life throws off my imagination groove

[alsojnpie]

If the ask thing is still allowed, is ur Papyrus purely the horrortale one or is OG Papyrus also there? Love ur art and stuff btw aaaa Ur self-ship art is so cute >\\\\\<

awwwwwe thank you :' ) i will hold your kind words tight and treasure them forever❤️❤️

and you mean my imaginary friends right?

sometimes i do imagine og papyrus because it makes me sad to think of him being left out and i love him so much. but that's more me playing with daydream toys, then him being a real imaginary friend. (which like, playing with daydream toys is kind of the first step to imaginary friend! but..)

i haven't seen the real imaginary friend him ever since years ago (i can rewind the tape in my mind and you can actually pinpoint the second his heart rips in half) and it feels insulting to force. he left on purpose. i could probably make a new one and indeed I've half-heartedly tried but again it feels rude. also that was the most tangible and least constructed papyrus in my mind so anything i make specifically to replace him inevitably feels kinda phony.

[storiesforallfandoms]

the best interview ever ~ pete davidson

word count: 1745

request?: yes!

“I’d love for you to write something about Pete Davidson flirting with a journalism student who’s interviewing him and her just being all shy and stuff, just fluff!”

description: in which he finds the shy journalism student interviewing him extremely adorable

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

From the moment you walked in the room, Pete’s eyes were glued to you. You noticed him look you up and down when you walked in first and tried to hide your face so he wouldn’t see that you were blushing.

“Well hello,” he said. “Are you my interviewer?”

“I am! My name is (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you (Y/N).”

You sat across from him, hoping it wasn’t as obvious that you were shaking as it felt. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I feel like I should warn you that this is my first solo interview, so I’m sorry if it’s super awkward.”

“Are you telling me that I’m popping your interviewing cherry?” Pete asked.

You chuckled and nodded. “I’m actually still a journalism student. I’ve shadowed some interviews, but this is my first actual interview.”

“That’s awesome!”

You smiled as Pete raised a hand to you. You high fived him and felt any stress or nervousness you had slowly start to melt away.

Pete’s chill demeanor felt so much different than any of the interviews you had shadowed. Although, it wasn’t hard to be more chill than CEOs and local politicians, which were the only people you had encountered so far. Pete was the first actual celebrity you had met, which made you extra nervous, but so far he was doing a good job at easing your nerves.

Since this was your first solo interview, you had done a lot of research on Pete and his new movie to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself. You had two and a half pages in your notebook filled with questions to ask as well as little facts you felt like you should know. You hadn’t even done this much research for school projects, which was hot you knew you were serious about this.

Pete’s eyes glanced at your notebook as you opened it, a small smile crossing his face. “Damn, you’re already more prepared than most people who have interviewed me before.”

“Good,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Pete gave you an amused look as you tried to stutter out a better response. “I-I Mean, personally, I hate watching interviews where the interviewer obviously hasn’t done their research, s-so I can’t imagine being interviewed by someone like-like that.”

“No, I respect it. I appreciate that.”

With that awkward encounter out of the way, you were able to actually start the interview.

It started off really well. You asked Pete about his new movie and any upcoming projects he had in the works. He told you about his work on SNL and his hope to film another stand up special soon. He was absolutely radiating happiness as he talked about his work, which made you extremely happy as well.

As the questions moved to be more personal, you came to learn more about Pete on a personal level. It went from feeling like an interviewer and their interviewee to feeling like two people who just met and who were getting to know one another.

You felt like you had gotten a hang of the interviewing thing, until Pete asked something that threw you off your groove. “So when do you ask me about my dating life?”

You had been looking down at your notebook when he asked, so your head snapped up so quickly that you almost made yourself dizzy, and your eyes were so wide that they were actually hurting a little. Pete laughed at the face you were making, and you could feel the embarrassment and nerves starting to come back.

“I-I...I wasn’t...” you stuttered, trying to figure out something to say. You never had any intentions of asking Pete about his dating life. It wasn’t relevant to the interview, so you weren’t going to bring it up.

“Damn, you’re really the best interviewer I’ve ever had,” Pete commented. “Most people go straight for the jugular on relationship questions. I’m still asked about an engagement that ended nearly two years ago. I respect that you had no intentions on bringing it up.”

You were so thrown off by the earlier question that even Pete’s reassurance that he was okay with you not asking wasn’t enough to get you back on track. You looked down at your notebook again, trying to remember what you had asked last but your mind felt empty. You were running out of time, you didn’t want to mess this up now.

Pete leaned forward and took your hands in his. You looked up at him and felt your breath catch in your throat upon realizing how close he was.

“Hey, I’m sorry I brought it up like that,” he said. “I really was just joking around. We were having fun and talking, I’m just used to that going south by being asked about my dating life because...well, you know who I was engaged to. I didn’t mean to startle you with the question.”

His voice was soft and it felt like you were seeing a completely different side of Pete, one you hadn’t even seen in movies or on SNL. Like it was a side of him he reserved for people closest to him, people that he cared about. You were shocked but also grateful that he felt like he could show you this side.

“I am single, by the way,” he added. “Just something I want you, personally, to know.”

He winked before he let go of your hands and sat back in his seat. Now you felt even more flustered, but for a different reason.

The rest of the interview went off without a hitch, and before you knew it, you were thanking Pete for his time and turning off your recording device. The crew came to take the microphone off the both of you.

“You’re my last interview of the day,” Pete said as the two of you stood from your seats. “I’m glad I got to end it on such a good note.”

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face. “I’m glad I got to be such a positive ending.”

“Are you parked downstairs?” You nodded, a bit confused by his question. “Mind if I walk you down? I gotta wait for my ride back to the hotel anyways, might as well spend that time with someone.”

At a loss for words, you just nodded.

The two of you walked together to the elevator that would bring you down to the parking garage you had parked your car in. The crew was still busy taking down the equipment in the room, so just the two of you stepped into the elevator.

“You’re really good for someone who’s just a student,” Pete said as the doors closed. “You’re more professional than most interviewers I’ve had.”

“I don’t want to be like every other tabloid journalist that just wants the latest scoop,” you responded. “I know that gossip and drama sells, but I wanna be one of those journalists that gets to show the real side of celebrities, not just the bullshit you see in magazines or on websites.”

“You’re one of very few, (Y/N), I’ll give you that.”

You couldn’t help but smile as Pete said your name. It just felt right hearing it come from his lips. You wondered if you could make him say it again.

“I really am sorry for throwing you off with that relationship jab,” Pete continued. “I meant for it to be lighthearted, like a joke, but I realized after I said it that it did come out pretty harsh.”

“It wasn’t harsh,” you shrugged. “I was just a bit shocked. I hadn’t planned on asking you anything that would make you uncomfortable, so I hadn’t even entertained the idea of asking you relationship questions.”

“I appreciate that. I’m not a super private guy, but it gets hard to be in the public eye with a relationship when I’m just trying to move on and people bring up my past ones, or what they believe to be past ones.”

Before you could respond, the doors to the elevator opened. The two of you stepped out and walked through the nearly empty parking garage before arriving to your car. You paused and turned back to Pete. You didn’t want to go just yet. You had enjoyed getting to spend time with him, even if it were likely he just saw you as yet another interviewer and nothing more.

“Thanks for walking me to my car,” you said, lamely. You mentally kicked yourself for not saying something that actually warranted a response.

“No problem. Gotta make sure no one kidnaps you.”

You smiled at the joke. You toyed with the keys in your hand, trying to put off getting in the car as much as you could. Pete was hesitant to walk away as well, which gave you a little bit of hope as to where this was going.

“I meant what I said about being single, by the way,” Pete finally said. “Which is to say that I am...single.”

“I am, too,” you told him.

A smirk was tugging at the corner of his lips. “What should I do with that information then?”

“Well,” you started, “you’re single, I’m single. We just spent the day getting to know one another. Maybe we could extend that to a non-professional setting.”

The smile on Pete’s face was brighter than the sun. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, actually. How about tomorrow? We could go for a coffee, start small.”

“Sounds fantastic. Here.” You passed him your phone and watched him put his number into it.

It felt so much easier to get into your car then.

You watched Pete walk away through the rearview mirror, and once he was far enough away you did a dance in your seat to celebrate both a great interview and the date you had managed to score along the way.

You were just starting up your car when a text from an unknown number came into your phone.

“just making sure you gave me a real number ~ pete”

You smiled to yourself and sent a response. “nope, this is actually a chinese take out place that conveniently does text messages as well”

“well fuck, that’s the third time this has happened this week”

You giggled to yourself before putting your phone aside and driving back towards your home, feeling as though you were on cloud nine.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

First Bite and A Small Death (M)

Temp·ta·tion

/tem(p)ˈtāSH(ə)n/

“  A desire to engage in short-term urges for enjoyment that threatens long-term goals. In the context of some religions, temptation is the inclination to sin.   ”

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, fluff, angst, romance, slow-burn

word count: 7.6k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of Star-Crossed

Warning: this chapter contains explicit description of smut!! (i’m gonna list them all even if it’s minor *just in case*): lots of making out, fingering, little bit of nipple play (can you call it that??), oral (f receiving), little bit of face riding (oops), thigh grinding, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, little bit of dirty talk (oooops), body worship, jimin is a tease (what’s new), strip tease??, (also he thicc), little bit of masturbation (oop!), begging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (*always* be safe, wrap it up!), creampie (there may or may not be lowkey a kink for it oop), little bit of cock-warming (oooops), rather vanilla though so nothing crazy?? lolll)

A/N: i may not be in time for halloween but i am in time for KINKTOBER?! LOLL oh my god, yall my first smut LMAOOO please do not be fooled by the warning list because gurl it’s...yeah, idk LOLL I will say though, that this smut chapter is on it’s own with no ‘real’ story development (like nothing major happens other than they finally bang), so it is entirely optional for those who are not comfortable (or underage *squinty eyes*). You’re not gonna miss out on much if you decide not to read this, I promise. I’m really sorry for the wait once again!! 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️😫😫😫 life and stuff just gets in the way and writing smut but make it plot and not straight up filth is wow hard. Other than that, i love you all for your endless patience and love for this story!! 💜💜💜 Quench thy thirst!! XDD

Tags:@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​

He tastes unlike anything you've imagined, something that can only be described in feelings – like the first sip of buttered rum on a winter's day; how it warms your entire body from the inside out, sweet with a spice that burns a hot trail through you, like caramel that's melted over your tongue, rich and smooth, lingering long after you swallow.

It's intoxicating, and you can't get enough.

Your breath comes out in soft pants as a result of your greed to chase after more of him, but he welcomes you, pulls you in closer until the curves of your body melds into his, no space left between you. Goosebumps rise at the feel of his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, seeking out the warmth of your skin, dipping into the grooves your spine and mapping out the expanse with the careful traces of his fingers.

You bury your hand into his raven hair, the locks gliding easily like silk through your fingers and tug lightly.

“Cherub...” He groans.  

You hum noncommittally, sucking on the fleshy part of his lower lip and he nearly loses his mind. He brings his own hand up to cup the underside of your jaw then. At his coaxing touch, you open your eyes partially, lids heavy from being lost in the feel of him. Jimin's done an amazing job at controlling the pace of kiss so far; slow and sensual, like he's taking his time to memorize the shape of your lips, drawing you in deeper with every deliberate tilt of his head. You're so pliant, practically melting against him but underneath you're burning up and the heat of you ignites his own desires. Every press of your body to his makes him teeter closer and closer to throwing away all of his inhibitions and it takes everything in him to pull apart if only for a second.

“Tell me what you want cherub.” Jimin rasps, dark eyes locked onto you, voice husky. “Otherwise, I don't think I can stop...”

He really doesn't, not when you look so exquisite – flushed cheeks, kiss bitten lips, out of breath, and pupils blown out.

You swallow, finally able to breathe momentarily and even though he keeps you steady with one hand on your hip, the thumb rubbing tantalizing circles into the skin has you barely thinking straight. But you manage, wetting your lips and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jimin, entranced by the movement.

“...I want this.” You say with quiet conviction. You meet his eyes, unwavering and your heart swells at how attentive he is, putting you above his own desires, even amidst the heated moment just now. “I want you.” You've never been more sure in your life.

Something snaps in him at the words, his eyes going dark and hooded as the hand on your jaw moves to guide you back to him. Your eyes automatically slip shut, the sensation of his lips on yours all you want to focus on. It starts off sweet, as though to reacquaint yourselves again before a hunger takes over, turning the kiss heady. You're left breathless once again, the sounds of your pounding heart intermingling with the soft smacking of lips and you part easily at the first feel of his tongue running across your bottom lip.

He gives you no chance to take control, not like you can when he licks into every crevice of your mouth, the perfect balance between the soft caresses of his tongue on yours and nipping of teeth. It makes you weak in your knees but at the slightest shift, you accidentally press into the leg that has slipped in between yours and you let out a quiet gasp at the friction it causes.

Jimin drinks in the sound greedily, stoking his ego and immediately he's eager to draw more out from you.

You feel his hands pause in their wandering in favour of pressing into the backs of your upper thigh. The pressure naturally makes you lift yourself up and despite how drained he might've looked, Jimin has no trouble carrying you. You cling onto him, legs wrapped around his slender waist, paying no mind to where he takes you. If you're gonna be honest, you were more focused on trying to get the infuriating white shirt off of him, fingers tugging at the thin material across his shoulders but you don't make much progress.

Your back hits the plush surface of a mattress, the only indication that you've probably moved to the bedroom and the new position allows Jimin to nestle his weight perfectly atop you, your legs hugging his hips. He parts from your mouth to trail hot kisses down your jaw, licking and nipping and you tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck, nails raking his scalp. When he reaches the place just below your left ear and gives a harsh suck, you keen, body arching into him.

“Jimi – !!”

Eyes wide, you nearly choke at the speed in which you cut yourself off, mouth snapping shut so hard your teeth clicked noisily. At your sudden abruptness, 'Jimin' lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look at you properly.

“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” He asks, voice full of concern.

You shake your head adamantly but still otherwise withhold your cause of embarrassment. Your face feels impeccably hot, the tips of your ears and neck burning. You're chewing on your lip, heart beating rapidly for an entirely different reason now and can't help but let your eyes fixate on a point in the high ceiling, useless thoughts racing distractedly in your mind (damn, just how big is this place?).

“Cherub,” You hear him call you softly and then feel the gentle press of his lips to the corner of your mouth in an attempt to draw you out of your head. “Talk to me darling.”

Shyly, you turn until you're able to meet his gaze, though you still have trouble maintaining it. He tilts his head in question, deft fingers brushing through the strands of your hair soothingly and your fingers do the same with the hair at the nape of his neck. After a moment, you swallow, finally mustering up the courage to speak.

“I – Um... I just...Don't be mad?” You mumble and you're not even sure if he's able to understand you completely. But he seems to as a small smile pulls at his full lips, and he gives a reassuring peck on the tip of your nose.

“I won't I promise. Go on, cherub.”

Taking a deep breath in, you blurt out, cringing. “I almost called you 'Jimin' and I felt really weirded out by that.”

He blinks, confused. “....But you always call me 'Jimin.'”

“Yeah, but... that's not actually your name is it? You have a 'true name' don't you?”

Your question shocks him for a brief second before understanding dawns on him, then the smile on his face creeps a little wider and his eyes take on a mischievous glint.

“Someone's been doing their homework....” He drawls playfully. “I wonder when did that happen...”

You pout at his implication and he's swift to kiss it.

“I just so happen to come across it at the moment okay? And it made sense.” Another kiss, this time on your cheek.

“You're not wrong; demons do have 'true names', as do all supernatural beings.”

“Really?” Your interest is piqued, but you find it's waning very quickly with every press of his mouth – he's clearly more interested in kissing every part of your skin he can reach. You manage to breathe, “Then...what's yours?”

He hums against your chin in response, “There's power in a name, love. It's not something we give out easily.” Then he rears up, looming over you and in a low voice, he says, “But perhaps I'll tell you if only to hear what it sounds like falling from your lips.”

The dark pensive look he gives is filled with a promise that makes an involuntary shiver run through you and you shift almost restlessly, pulse quickening. He smirks and he looks every bit a demon that he is, hair tousled and shirt practically falling off one shoulder as he leans down until his kiss swollen lips hover over yours.

“Cute...”

He presses the word teasingly onto your cupid's bow and you huff a little, miffed at the way he coos, obviously aware of the effect he has on you. The provocation does more than just rile you up though; it has you daring to bite back.

“Well, what name am I supposed to scream otherwise then?”

Your bold utterance makes the demon above you freeze and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel immensely satisfied. The light smirk that had been on his face falters, and for a moment, his mouth just hangs slightly parted, baffled at what he heard. You feel the corners of your mouth twitch.

“What? Did I fluster a de – ah!” Your smug jab gets cut short when you feel a sudden pressure between your legs, causing you to throw your head back as pleasure shoots through you. It leaves your neck exposed and vulnerable and Jimin takes full advantage, going back to give a punishing nip.

“Little minx...” He growls next to your ear, causing a quiet whimper to leave you at the sound, the vibration going straight to your core and your body moves on its own, grinding against the firm thigh pressed into you for relief. The heat creeps back fast and the feel of his hand sliding under your shirt has you sighing out. He breaks away for a second to remove it completely, the air further cooling your warm skin before Jimin's searing kisses trail a new path down your collarbones and the valley between your breast, purple bruises blooming in their wake.

He revels in the soft sighs and pants you exhale, but with each sound it becomes harder for him to control himself, wanting nothing more than to rip away your remaining clothes and bury himself deep in you. He's determined to take his time with you though; to touch and learn all the planes, dips and curves of your body, what makes you sigh, moan or in your words, scream (he shivers in anticipation at the thought) as if you're a language he wants to become fluent in.

And when his hand pushes past the cup of your bra, thumb brushing against a nipple, the hitch in your breath lets him know his patience will be worthwhile.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens, chest pushing into the palm of his hand and at your eagerness, he reaches around to unclip your bra. It falls away easily, tossed aside with little care and wasting no time, his lips latch onto a bud as his hand continues to toy with the other. He tends to them with great care, sucking and rolling with his tongue while letting his teeth occasionally graze over them. Only when they've pebbled does he switch over, making sure to give the other the same treatment that has you gasping and moaning, all the while still keeping his hands busy groping and kneading you.

Once he's satisfied, Jimin releases the pert nipple with a wet pop, and as if for good measures, he blows gently over them, the sudden chill sends goosebumps erupting and you whine. He's quick to placate you with a press of his lips to yours, though you still feel the ghost of a smile at your reaction but you find you can't stay anywhere remotely mad at him, feeling so needy of his attention and him being more than happy to give it to you.

“How long I've dreamt of this...Having you beneath me...” You hear him murmur almost to himself between the languid kisses and the haze of arousal, the words a mixture of being reverent and possessive as does the hand that trace along your abdomen, going lower until they find the button of your pants, prying them open with the zipper and you shift in anticipation, pressing your body into his.

“To ruin you until the only pleasure you know is mine.”

The mewl falls from you instantly when he presses into your folds for the first time, hips rising and he groans at how wet you already are, easily coating his fingers. He rubs along your slit in lazy strokes before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb and you twitch, legs spreading apart. For a good minute or so, you have trouble forming coherent words, any attempts only resulting in breathy whimpers as your nails dig into his biceps.

He doesn't seem to mind, actually loving how receptive your body is and it's with that thought in mind, he pushes a finger into you. Your head falls back, moaning at the feel of the digit sinking knuckle deep inside, sliding in easily. You hear Jimin curse, pausing in his open mouthed kisses at the juncture of your shoulder to take in the way your walls squeezes around his finger, even as he pulls out halfway to thrust back in experimentally.

You can barely keep yourself from writhing, growing steadily impatient with need and how unhurried he seems to be but before you can muster any strength for a complaint, you feel a second finger and you let out a choked gasp instead. He stretches you with a scissoring motion, letting you get accustomed before he begins to set a pace.

Jimin leans back to watch you, eyes drinking in the glassy, half-lidded look in your eyes and your dishevelled appearance; mouth parted and your chest heaving with every moan, flushed and covered with his marks while shamelessly rutting yourself against his hand with every thrust. At the crook of his fingers, your hips stutter and your eyes nearly roll shut. You're quite the sight to behold; his jaw clenching subtly in effort to maintain his composure and focus on you rather than the erection straining in his jeans.

Soon, your moans grow a little louder, your breathing becoming more shallow and the furrow in your brows lets Jimin know that you're getting close, hips bucking up desperately on their own to chase your high but just as you're within reach, he stops, pulling away and you're left feeling frustratingly empty.

“Ugh! J-Jimin!” You whine loudly, voice pitching as if you're on the verge of crying. “I was so close...!”

He gives a throaty chuckle, the sound enough to draw your attention and immediately any more petulant protests are silenced when your eyes meet deep crimson irises that glow dangerously in the dimness of the room.

“I meant what I said cherub,” He says in a husky timbre, ruby eyes never leaving yours as he brings his fingers glistening with your juices to his lips, “You'll be ruined by the time I'm done with you.” And sucks them off clean, humming in approval as he visibly swallows, Adam's apple bobbing.

You clench around nothing at the sight, failing to hide the wave of arousal that shoots through you ten times more intensely than before. God, it always seems like you eat your words a lot when it comes to him, only this time you find you have no regrets for trying to outplay him in his own game.

Every nerve ending in you is vibrating with excitement at what he plans to do and you're not sure if it's a good or a bad thing that he's very well aware of that fact because you know he'll definitely take advantage of it, if the devilish gleam in his eyes is anything to go by.

“Let's get you out of these, hm?”

Your hips lift as he tugs your pants and slides them off along with your soaked panties, discarding them to the side. Now bare of any clothes, you can't help feeling a little self-conscious, an embarrassing heat creeping from your neck all the way up to your face seeing as how he's still fully clothed, much to your chagrin and his piercing gaze is fixated on you. They drag over every inch of you intently that it has you wanting to curl in on yourself but he stops you by situating himself between your legs and a comforting hand rests on your hip bone.

“You don't need to hide from me, cherub.” He says softly, leaning over briefly to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, “You're beautiful.” Then he descends downwards, skimming those pillowy lips over the divot of your collarbone, your breasts, stomach and navel until he shuffled to have your thighs resting comfortably over each shoulder.

You watch him with baited breath, so tense and hyperaware of how close he is to where you want him yet you're captivated in the way he's meticulously placing kisses on your inner thigh, nosing along the supple flesh and trailing lower. He chases away any insecurities you might've felt before with every worshipful press of his lips and you willingly part your legs wider for him.

“You smell so good.” He groans appreciatively on an inhale, eyes deepening to a rich maroon as his mouth finally reaches your centre, still dripping and aching for him. It makes Jimin's mouth water, mind already so hazy from that small taste earlier which is why he doesn't hesitate a second longer to dive in, licking one long stripe that has you throwing your head back against the sheets, eyes shutting and exhaling a breathy moan.

You feel one of his hand come up to push your hips back down, keeping you in place as he begins to ravish you.The sounds pour out of you unadulterated with each flick leaving you gasping and mewling senselessly. It only spurs him on, tongue swirling and teasing your nub to coax more of your wetness which he laps all of it up hungrily, letting out a deep moan of his own. The vibration sends a shockwave through your body and your hands fly out from clutching at the sheets to ultimately burying themselves into raven locks.

“So sweet....” He mumbles into your cunt, fingers spreading your folds apart. “All for me.”

There wasn't any hope for you to form an answer, his tongue dipping into your sopping hole and you keen. He works the pink muscle in like he's French kissing you, prodding and reaching places you didn't think possible until it has your walls fluttering and you pull him closer, wanting him deeper still. Jimin doesn't resist, continuing to tongue fuck you with his nose buried into your pussy and you practically riding his face, the amount of raw lust feeding him in more ways than one.

Your chest is heaving from trying to keep up with the onslaught of stimulation but also in a fight to not let the coil tightening in your gut to snap so quickly, head numb with pleasure-filled high that has you barely able to convey a fraction of the jumbled thoughts in your mind.

“Please....! I – Mmph!” You manage to gasp out, hands slipping from Jimin's roots momentarily.

To your relief, Jimin slows down, giving one last lick with his flattened tongue before pulling back. It gives you the chance to finally breathe, lungs burning as you inhale much needed air.

“What is it, cherub?” He purrs, the pads of his free hand stroking much too closely along your inner thigh. “What do you want?”

You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, swallowing and licking your dry lips and finally able to pry your eyes open for the first time, blinking away the blurriness to focus down on Jimin. You wanted a lot of things; to cum on his tongue, to not cumming until you feel him too, to give him pleasure like he is to you, his name which he hasn't given yet, to maybe remove that damn shirt that he's still wearing for whatever reason but all of that goes flying out the fucking window when you lay your eyes on Jimin.

He looks like the embodiment of sin bathed in moonlight; shadows half concealing his face and cutting sharp, defining angles, hair as dark as the night itself, mussed but falling so effortlessly into hooded eyes that glow in liquid lust, a hypnotizing, deep blood-red ruby as his full lips and chin shine with your essence.

Fuck, he just looks so good between your legs like this, and so obviously content with being there from the way the hunger in his gaze has not yet shown signs of being satiated, not even the slightest. And it makes you want to give as much as he is taking, though come to think of it, at this point you're not sure which is which anymore.

You don't realize your thoughts had wandered off from their intended course, but Jimin is quick to catch on and intentionally gives his bottom lip a titillating swipe of his tongue, smirking at the way you bite yours in response. He chuckles, repeating his question as he almost absentmindedly starts giving you kitten licks, nibbling along your lower lips. “What do you want cherub?”

You go lax, softly whimpering and you flush abashed, a pretty pink deepening your cheeks and Jimin can actually see how hard you're trying to pull yourself together, brows furrowing in concentration and fingers pulling at the bedsheets under you. He doesn't mean to, but the sight makes him even more tempted to unravel you faster, see you become undone because of him. Suddenly, every one of his nerves is itching for it, and so preoccupied with...other things, you miss the way his eyes narrow with newfound impatience.

Focus! Use your words. How – ?

“I...haah – I want – need...you, please!” It's all you manage to get out, a desperate half-pleading and whining but you hope it's enough to get across to the demon. He hums in feigned thoughtfulness, the sound too close to your sensitive pearl and your legs would've clamped shut on Jimin's head had it not been for the strong hold that keeps them apart. You're thankful because you think you would've combusted, horrified but the feeling doesn't last as you feel Jimin inserting his finger in you again, your walls contracting and you let out a surprise squeal.

“I'll get back to you on that, sweetheart.” Was the only reply you get and whatever half-baked arguments you had is immediately forgotten when his tongue begins to work in tandem with his fingers. He laves at you firmly while he thrusts deeply at a steady pace, quickly getting a second digit in and crooking them to rub at the rough patch of nerves, making you throw your head back, mouth falling open. Your body reacts as if it has a mind of its own, hips writhing uncontrollably under the hand still pinning them in an effort to meet each thrust until they jerk at the feel of a third finger pushing in.

You groan at the stretch and Jimin slows down fractionally to let you get used to it but the amount of slick gathered made for the slight burn to pass quickly and soon you're begging him to go faster and harder. He all but happily obliges, picking up speed and swiping his tongue and lightly suckling your clit relentlessly that your hands scramble to cling onto the pillows and sheets for dear life. You hear just how wet you've become, the squelching noise that comes every time he flicks his wrist much louder than before and the lewd sound has you growing hotter by the minute from both embarrassment and arousal.

Your elbows are shaking; how you managed to still remain somewhat upright is a miracle but you know it won't last for much longer, the knot in your stomach becoming almost unbearable, walls clenching with your impending orgasm. All the words you attempt to get out in warning ends before they can leave your mouth, turning into nonsensical babbling mixed in with your increasing moans. So in your brilliant half coherent mind, you muster enough strength to peel your eyes open to look down at Jimin, to try to get his attention that way, only to find that it was a lost cause.

Jimin's eyes were shut, so engrossed in eating you out as if there's nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing. You watch his fingers disappear in and out of you, coated in your wetness and mouth parted slightly to let his tongue work quick, short flicks over your engorged bud. You're a hair's breadth away from falling over the precipice from the erotic sight alone, but as if sensing your eyes on him, he glances up, locking you in a smouldering gaze that has all thoughts leaving you. Then he encases his lips around your clit and sucks and you're gone.

You cum hard, head falling back, body tensing and arching up as you let out a long strangled moan, toes curling and legs shaking. Jimin can't help but let slip his own moan as your orgasm washes over you and into his awaiting mouth. He helps you ride it out all too eagerly, your taste his new addiction and he slurps up your release like he wants to drag it out for as long as he can until you're whimpering from over stimulation.

He finishes with a soft kiss grazing the inside of your thigh, letting your legs go limp on their own and leans back on his knees nonchalantly, taking the time to wipe his chin and mouth with the back of his hand before licking it clean, as if you're not panting like you've ran a marathon and he just didn't give you the best oral you ever had. Slowly, you blink your eyes open (when had you shut them you don't know), dazed from practically seeing stars as you look at him through bleary eyes.

Noticing that you've come back down from cloud nine, Jimin crawls over your splayed out form and grins down at you roguishly, very much looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“You doing okay?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head.

Heart still thundering loudly in your ears and chest, out of breath, hot and a little sweaty all over, you manage a weak raspy hum in acknowledgement but it's enough to earn you a chuckle and a kiss. You lean up as much as you can into those plush lips, tasting yourself in the process and you sigh deeply, your own tongue brushing against the roof of his mouth to chase more of it. Your hands lift automatically to pull him in closer but instead of feeling bare skin and rippling back muscles, you whine out in complaint, grabbing a handful of the offending cotton short sleeve and give a harsh tug, impatient.

“Can you get this fucking shirt off already? Why do you still have it on?”

A rush of air tickles your cheek as Jimin huffs through his nose in response. He pulls his lips away from yours with a soft smack.

“Sorry, must've slipped my mind.” His eyes gleam deviously, “If you ask nicely, maybe I'll take it off finally.”

“I will literally rip this shirt if I have to.”

Your deadpan earns you a breathy laugh but you're completely serious. Luckily for you, you don't have to because in spite of Jimin's teasing, he's just as worked up as you are so he retreats to stand at the end of the bed, reaching up and pulling the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. You rush to sit upright, your eyes pinned to his figure and your breath hitches as he tosses it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

The first time you've seen him shirtless was when you had nursed him back to health after that night and given the circumstance, you had refrained yourself from staring inappropriately. The most you're sure of is that he has a lean build with maybe a little less weight. Now when you're allowed the luxury, you're almost ashamed to admit that you're barely able to handle it. You see the fine lines that make up the sinewy muscles of a toned chest and abdomen, tapering down to a thin waist with deep v-cuts that you can't help but let your eyes get lost trailing to a very obvious bulge below the belt of his jeans sitting low on his hips (you unconsciously swallow, mind immediately going straight into the gutter).

There are signs that he's gotten slimmer but it's like with the way he's naturally built – broad chested, rounded torso – he'll never end up looking scrawny from it, the weight loss showing more in his face than his body. He's still every bit a marble Greek sculpture, and that's actually quite unfair.

But then you see his veiny hands begin to unhook his belt and it's here that you think you truly stop breathing. You watch almost wide eyed and lips parted, glued to the way he loosens it and dexterously undoes the button of his pants, then the zipper as if in slow motion before he pushes them down to reveal his Balenciaga boxer briefs. He steps out of the denim smoothly, and the black cotton he's left in has you biting back a groan – they hug his strong thighs like a second skin and do little to hide the damp patch and the thick outlines of his erection.

You rub your thighs together restlessly, feeling yourself growing damp as his fingers slip under the band of his briefs to drag them off completely. His cock bounces in the air, finally freed from their confines and curving slightly up towards his stomach. He's only a little more than average in size but god he was as thick as from what you could see through his underwear with a prominent vein on the underside of his shaft, head flushed dark and already dripping with pre-cum. Your inner muscles clench involuntarily.

Even his dick is beautiful – honestly something that you shouldn't be surprised at but you bemoan the fact nonetheless.

You don't even realize the small whine you let out when he wraps a firm hand around the base and slowly begins to pump himself, biceps flexing.

“What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?” Jimin's dulcet tone is light and teasing but you catch the subtle airiness lingering in the question, the only indication that he's as relieved to be out of his clothes as you probably are. His thumb swipes at the tip of the bulbous head to smear the pre-cum down his length and he takes in a deep breath, breathing in the heavy scent of your lust and arousal spiking again and the absolute tortured look on your face has his cock twitching in his hand.

“You're such a fucking tease!” You keen out, pushed to your limit and in the heat of it, you let slip all your deepest desires, “I wanted to cum with you inside me. Let me suck you off at least please, I want to feel you.”

His eyes flash and his hand stops in their tracks as you hear a deep growl rumble from his chest. It's the only warning you get before he's climbing atop of you again and your thighs automatically part to make room for him, pulling him flush as he kisses you hard, hips pressing into yours and you moan contently into his mouth as he grinds himself against you.

“Fuck, I can't believe I'm turning down getting sucked off by that needy mouth of yours.” Jimin says through gritted teeth, sucking your bottom lip.

“Mm, I'll make up for it. I just need you in me, do you have a con –  ” Your mind clicks with a moment of clarity; you made it a force of habit to ask the few times you had a sexual encounter, better be safe than sorry and all, but that's just with another human being, not a demon. Your furrowed confused brows has Jimin pulling back slightly, a question in his crimson gaze before you ask, genuinely curious, “Do demons need condoms? Is the whole thing about getting impregnated by a demon true?”

A beat passes and then Jimin snorts, turning to bury his face into his shoulder and clearing his throat, he replies, biting back a smile, “No, it's not true. Demons, and a few select supernatural beings, are sterile upon creation. Wouldn't make sense for God to let demons procreate freely would it?”

“Huh...No, it wouldn't.” You agree, tucking away the new piece of information you've learned. It makes you wonder where that whole concept had come from, but you heard it straight from the source; if an actual demon says they can't impregnate anyone by nature then there's no  need for a condom. That's relieving you guess, one less thing to worry about.

Wait, then doesn't that mean....

Almost instantaneously, heat floods through you, starting from your cheeks, all the way down to the tips of your toes and you find it hard to meet Jimin's eyes. Not that you would need to for him to notice how you've gone suspiciously quiet, and from your reddening cheeks and nervous lip biting, it doesn't take long for him to put two and two together. You've shocked him for the second time tonight but it quickly wears off, replaced by a wicked smile stretching across his lips as he watches you squirm under him, caught red-handed and he's never been more turned on than he is now.

You're really going to be the death of him.

“Oh cherub....” He chuckles, low and sultry, a concealed excitement buzzing in every word. “Do you want to feel me cum in you, fill you up until you're full and dripping of me? Is that what you want?”

You visibly swallow, trying but failing to hide the way your breath catches in you throat at the filthy words spoken in such a velveteen voice. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did he have to make it sound so seductive, so enticing that now that's all you can think about, and the more you do, the more you crave for it.

He shifts to reposition himself, supporting some of his weight on his elbow as one of his hand reaches between your bodies to grasp his length, rubbing it along your wet folds to further lube himself. He feels so hot and hard that that alone sends shivers of anticipation running through you, hips rocking up on their own but he doesn't make a move to do anything more.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“I want it,” You whine without any restraint. “Need you so bad. Please!”

Jimin preens, eyes beaming. “That’s my girl.”

You feel the blunt head of his cock begin to slowly push in, inch by inch until you gasp, tensing and involuntarily your walls clench as you feel the thicker part of his girth enter you, the stretch a little discomforting. Jimin grunts, head bowing into your neck as he stops, a steady hand on your hip bone.

“Relax for me, love.” He strains, placing soft kisses into your warm skin. Your eyes flutter shut, willing yourself to be lulled by his gentle coaxing and once he feels your body easing again, he continues. You try to ignore the burning sensation but a small whimper slips out. Jimin shushes you, whispering sweet encouraging words in between the press of his lips. When he bottoms out, you both let out a shuddering sigh. He stills, arms coming up to brace himself on either side of your head, letting you adjust to the feel of him inside you.

“You okay?” Jimin asks, nuzzling into your cheek, pulling away long enough to brush away a few strands of your hair.

You inhale shakily, eyes peering open to lock with his. “I – Y-Yeah, just...give me a second...” The burning from the stretch has ebbed into a manageable dull ache – still uncomfortable but not as bad as it was initially. You're not quite sure if Jimin moved now, it would get worse or better.

Well, guess that's something you'll have to find out.

“Can you...go slow?” You ask tentatively, unsure if you're being too much. You can practically feel the amount of tension in Jimin's body, like a live wire pulsating with energy yet he's holding himself back for your sake, nodding without a single moment's hesitation. Your heart flips, overwhelmed with emotions that you can't find the words to properly express, how thankful you are to have him here for as long as you have; as a dutiful guardian who has looked out for you, as a friend who quietly supported you, unwaveringly, and now as a lover – passionate, selfless and tender. Without knowing what else to do, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in until your mouths connects, pouring everything you have to convey even an ounce of your feelings.

Jimin startles at your sudden earnestness, so it takes him a second to recollect himself before tilting his chin to better mould his lips to yours and easily deepens the kiss. It helps distract you enough for Jimin to carefully withdraw himself, just enough to still be inside before pressing back in one smooth stroke. The sharp gasp you let out makes you break away but a moan follows quickly after as Jimin begins to move.

The room soon fills with your sighs and pants that intermingle with his, the pain long forgotten and you're left feeling so incredibly full instead. Through half-lidded eyes, you see him watching you, transfixed on the pleasure that's overtaken your face, blood-red irises glowing with the heat of molten lava.

“You're such a good girl cherub, taking me so well.” He says, voice husky and breathless as he continues to roll his hips into you, each thrust slow and deep that has you feel every inch of him, loving the way your warm velvet walls hug him so tightly, like you're meant to be his.

You squeeze around him at the praise and he hisses, hooking one of your leg around his waist and going a little harder. You cling onto him, wanting him closer even when your foreheads press together, nails raking down his back and feeling the strong muscles flex under your touch. Your bodies move rhythmically, like the push and pull of ocean waves crashing along the shores that drag you farther and farther until you're drowning in him.

You want to stay like this forever if you can, connected and entwined. At least this way, you're allowed a small piece of comfort where everything else fades away – no uncertainty for the future, no demons, angels, heaven or hell.

In this moment, there's only you and him.

But you feel your end approaching, the pressure in your stomach building faster than you would have liked and so in tuned with your body, Jimin quickens before you get the chance to try and delay the inevitable. The moans that tumble past your lips are muffled by his hungry kisses, a mess of tongue and teeth that leaves you out of breath yet even still, you will yourself to resist. However, Jimin doesn't let up, determined to have you cum again before him.

A gasp rushes out when you feel his thumb on your clit, head falling back and you know it's a losing battle.

“Let go, Y/N. Give in to me.” Jimin whispers lowly, his breath hot against your ear, nibbling at the tender lobe. “Give in.”

You succumb to his words, the dark temptation too sweet falling from honeyed lips, crying out, body seizing with your orgasm that rips through you and swallows you whole. Jimin moans at the vice-like grip of your walls sucking him in and his hips stutter, slowing to let you ride out your high before he pushes through in pursuit of his own. You let out a strangled whimper, oversensitive and mind still foggy but you don't stop his steady rocking in spite of it – you hold on tighter as if he's the only anchor you have.

The sight of you unravelling beneath him had been magnificent, having never seen such a raw, carnal side to you but this night had blessed him with so many, more than he could've ever hoped or imagined. You were beautiful, the look of absolute pleasure looked so good on you. Jimin doesn't think there was anything else that could hold a candle to you.

Yet now, lying bare on his mattress – eyes glossy, the pure ecstasy on your face with the sheen of your sweat and afterglow from your post-orgasm bliss beneath the pale moonlight – you look divine.

He's not going to last much longer, head swimming with the sounds of your moans and drunk off of a pride from knowing that this is all his doing and that no one, not even Jimin, will ever be able to have you this way.

You're getting embarrassingly loud, every ragged breath you struggle to hold back the noises that follow after as Jimin drives into you roughly, the wet slaps of skin where his pelvis meets yours growing with each powerful snap of his hips. His brows are furrowed in an almost pained expression, throaty moans only increasing, letting you know that he's close.

“P-Please...!” You hiccup, nails digging into the back of his shoulders. “Nn! H-Hah! N-Need – ah! Need you – ! Cum in m-me! Please!”

In your pleasure riddled mind, you hear him whisper it – an intimate secret shared between you in this stolen moment, hidden by the darkness of night.

“Call for me, Y/N.” Jimin rasps, urging you, body caging you in and you're surrounded by him, no way for you to escape. “Call my name.”

You breathe it in as he seals it with sloppy kisses and you try to return them with the same fervour however, you pull away too soon, head thrown back, your control over your body gone and your lungs scream at you for air but you choose to call out to him instead. You say his name over and over like a broken prayer, you say it as you beg for him to fill you, make you his.

You say it until you're sobbing, feeling a new wave of an oncoming orgasm building again.

Spurred on, he pushes faster, cock swelling and thrusts becoming erratic in wanting to reach his climax with you. Your body is writhing uncontrollably but he keeps you in place, not letting up. He sucks open mouthed kisses onto your breasts, collar, neck like he means to devour you and it proves to be too much and you cum with a choked wail, shaking. He follows soon after, burying in your warmth as he empties himself inside you, a deep guttural moan tearing from his throat. He slows until he's grinding shallowly and you let out a quiet shivering whine, soaked walls coated in his milky essence pulsating from the aftershocks and squeezing a few more spurts, making him muffle a groan into your shoulder before he stops.

You both lay in each other's embrace, chest heaving, the sounds of your harsh breathing in sync as is the pounding of your hearts, boneless and completely spent. You're tingling all over but you're content like this, still joined and the comfort of his weight on you. He doesn't rush to part from you either, basking in the rare tranquil peace while pressing soft lazy kisses, retracing the path of his marks until he reaches your mouth.

You let his lips brush chastely against yours – you'd return them with a little more effort if you weren't so tired and fighting the urge to sleep. He pulls away enough to caress the knuckles of his fingers along the edge of your eyes and it's only then you realize the stray tears that had streaked past your lashes, your body's natural reaction to the intense amount of stimulation.

When he finally slips out of you, you shudder at the lost and feeling the heat of his cum seeping out of your hole, thick and wet – the image of your combined releases staining the sheets below sends a tremor rippling through you delightfully. The bed dips as he rolls onto the mattress beside you but your hands blindly seek his touch immediately, sighing when he gently pulls you flushed to him, enveloping you in his arms. He tucks your head under his chin and you blink heavily, vision becoming unfocused with fatigue.

“Sleep if you're tired, cherub. I got you.” You hear him murmur against the crown of your head.

You let out a weak hum in protest, afraid that when you next wake, he'll no longer be there but the gentle combing of your hair subdues you quickly, so you hold him close and drift off to the warm scent of spices and burning cedar wood.

[an-organized-confusion]

Mea Culpas & Revelations: The Play

And then the co-conspirator wrote some heartwarming/angsty Creativitwins/DLAMPR stuff (all cred to him here, basically a drabble he wrote on the fly):

Unknown Speaker: "What is the real reason you and Remus don't get along?"

Roman: unintelligible mumbling and forefingers pushing against each other.

Logan: "Speak up." Roman: "We both have to be at the center of attention. We get mad jealous of each other when the other gets more attention." Roman: "And then I chase him with a sword, and he attacks me with a spiked morningstar. It's just best if we're never in the same place at the same time..." Roman: "So we divided what we covered creatively..."

Logan: "And you agreed on this deal?" Roman: "YES, well... at first... But then when I noticed Thomas was disturbed by Remus I started working to push him to the side so that he'd pay more attention to me..." Roman: "And then I may have started a whisper campaign cause Janus told me that it was a good idea..." Remus: from a distance, "Whisper campaign, WHISPER CAMPAIGN. YOU MOTHER DUCKING ASSHAT. YOU STRAIGHT UP TOLD EVERYONE THAT I WAS GOING TO GET THOMAS MURDERED IF THEY DIDN'T LOCK ME OUT."

Logan: That... is partially on me. I apologize Remus, we were younger and the world was far more black and white than we see it now. Statistically speaking your suggestions were going to result in Thomas's death... If he always acted on them." Remus: "And how often did he act on them?!" Logan: pained, "Almost never. You could occasionally get him to lick things, or smell things that were clearly horrendously foul. But for the most part he's never acted on anything you suggested that could've killed him." Remus: "And so you all decided to lock me behind that door." Patton: "Not without misgivings." Virgil: "Not without feeling certain we were making a mistake.” Logan: "I made an error in judgement." Roman: silent

Virgil: "i was the first to volunteer to check on you..." Remus: sighing, "I know, Tickle-Me-Emo, I know. How did that work out for you?" Virgil: glaring at Logan and Roman, "They locked the door behind me." Logan: "I made a series of errors that year. I had deemed that you were the next greatest detriment to Thomas's ability to function. I allowed cognitive bias to cloud my eyes and disregarded the important things you did for Thomas in return for the things I deemed detrimental." Roman: still silent

Janus: "I'll admit, I went in after Virgil. I'm not sure who locked the door behind me." Patton: hanging head in shame, "I'm sorry Janus, that was me. I couldn't accept your existence at that point in Thomas's development. I was wrong, and Thomas didn't learn some of life's most important lessons until it happened the hard way." Remus: "And that's how we stayed, relatively muted to Thomas for oh so long." Janus: "You know there's just one thing that confuses me still." Virgil: glancing between them, "Why the door unlocked?" Janus: "Yes, that is the final question left to answer isn't it?"

Everyone looking between themselves.

Virgil: "You know I always sat nearest to the door. So imagine my surprise when suddenly I heard the lock click one day."

Everyone looks to Virgil.

Virgil: "So imagine my surprise when I turn the knob and the door opened back up." Remus: "Did you see who unlocked it?" Virgil: "No, looked like they did it from a distance using some string."

Virgil: "You've been awfully quiet for awhile now Roman." Roman: blushing, "Yea." Virgil: "Anything you want to contribute to this discussion?" Roman: "Um... I suck at apologies?" Virgil: "Yes, that is well known." Roman: "And admitting when I've been, or actively am wrong." Janus: "Yes, I spent years helping you deny that." Roman: "And I have a lot of feelings of Imposter Syndrome." Remus: "Well Imagine that, you tried claiming to be the entirety of Thomas's creativity." Roman: nods, but falls back into silence

Roman: faintly, "I did it" Remus: "Speak up brother, I know you're more than capable of projecting your voice to the audience." Roman: "I UNLOCKED THE DOOR." Janus: Jamming fingers in ears, "He said projecting to the audience, not deafening them." Virgil: "So the guy who insisted on starting this whole debacle is the one who ended it? I guess the next question is, why?" Roman: "I realized that I wasn't able to act that well without Janus's help to mask my own thoughts." Janus: nodding thoughtfully, "Surely that can't be the only reason." Roman: "I also realized that Virgil gave me the push I needed to write better material, cause I got complacent and coasted on past successes." Virgil: rolling his eyes, "Yes, yes you did. But, you had to have known we'd never have left Remus in that room." Roman: softly, "Was kind of counting on that." Remus: "Speak up brother, unless you want me to lend you my ear to speak into." Roman: chuckling, "I missed that."

Group does a double take.

Logan: "What?" Roman: "I missed my brothers sense of humor. Sure it's sometimes gross, or outright revolting. But he knew how to tell a good dirty joke." Remus: balling up his fists, "You let them out cause you wanted to hear me tell dirty jokes?!" Janus: placing a hand on Remus's shoulder, "No, look at his eye direction and movement as he's talking. I've studied his tells for years; He's lying." Roman: shouting, "BECAUSE I MISSED YOU. DO YOU THINK I FELT GOOD LOCKING MY OWN BROTHER AWAY?"

Roman: to himself, “You’re just as much an integral part of my identity as I am a part of yours. I’ve denied parts of myself all this time and it hurts Remus. It hurts far more than I ever thought it would. Not that I gave it much thought to begin with, I never was the type to give much forethought to harebrained schemes.”

Roman: "Yea, I've been impersonating both of us this whole time, and that felt great at first because Thomas only paid attention to me. But then I realized I don't enjoy always being in the spotlight. I'm not great at one man plays. I need co-stars, or perhaps just a brother. Sure we got jealous of each other when Thomas paid more attention to the other one of us, but we still had fun competing for that attention. It felt hollow without you, like this wasn't a victory."

Roman: "I'm just... tired. I needed a distraction from Thomas's gaze. Then I realized there were 3 perfectly good distractions locked behind a door." Virgil: murderous stare, "Distractions?!" Roman: holding hands up in a placating manner and in surrender, "At first, yes. But with each of you coming back out of that door I noticed that Thomas seemed... more alive. More... Himself, than he'd been since..." Remus: growling, "Since you had us locked behind the door." Roman: nodding regretfully, "I took a joke from Janus the wrong way. It was a moment of weakness when I realized that I could feasibly get away with it. Logan was far more literal back then." Janus: groaning, "Yea, remind me never to tell you a joke." Roman: chuckling in spite of himself, "Indeed, you're too good at telling them. Sounded like serious advice at the time." Virgil: "Yes, he's unfortunately a master of the deadpan face. I'm pretty sure only Remus can tell when he's joking." Remus: "Pshaw. I simply laughed at everything on the off chance he was joking. He couldn't tell if I was manic or appreciating his humor that way." Roman: "Anyways, Virgil you brought back that creative spark I'd been looking for all this time. At first I resented that you had it. But then over time I realized it's not that you had a spark, but that you were the spark I needed. Sure sometimes Logan unintentionally says something that sparks an idea, but you were always there pushing me to do better. Throwing out ideas that would make the audience laugh instead of boo because you were so conscious of their mood."

Virgil: "Or cheer. Plays can't be all laughter." Janus: "I believe comedies beg to differ." Virgil: "People can only laugh so much before they feel numb, and trust me; I'd know." Roman: "Then when Deceit finally decided to announce his presence, I felt like I was starting to get back into the groove of acting. The small things came back to me, like how to control my facial muscles to portray scenes better." Janus: "Those can be difficult to control without really focusing on them." Roman: "But the biggest thing was that I kept seeing signs of my brother all the time. He's in all of us in his own way. Logan's love of 'mad science', Virgil's love of 'horror' films, Janus's willingness to push the boundaries of what Thomas is comfortable with, and even some of Patton's.... Misunderstandings have been borne of Remus's influence."

Logan: looking at Patton, "Adultery, really?" Remus: giggling uncontrollably, "I still can't believe I taught him what that word meant before you got a chance to." Patton: blushing furiously, "I have said that to others sooooooo many times through Thomas. They must all think we're idiots." Virgil: rubbing his arms self consciously, "Pretty sure they don't. Logan is pretty good at damage control." Logan: surprised, "How did you know?" Virgil: "I sat closest to the door, the entire time. I was just waiting for someone to open it back up. It had a window, you know? We could still see things going on, and exert some influence on Thomas. But Janus and Remus mostly got bored and wandered away a lot." Logan: nodding, "I suppose that makes sense, and why Thomas always exhibited some degree of anxiety even after... I will never be able to say I'm sorry enough for the actions I've done. I can only hope to prove through my own actions and behavior from now on that I'm repentant for them." Virgil: "Aye, and I'll keep an eye on that myself. I'll damn well let you know if you're being an asshat again." Logan: chuckling, "Thanks, I need a good reminder that though the chance is infinitesimally small, I can make mistakes." Remus: growing bored, "That's great and all, but Roman still hasn't told us what I brought back to Thomas!"

Roman: looking at his brother as if it's obvious, "Seriously?" Remus: nodding fiercely, "I want to know!" Roman: embarrassed, "You brought color back to Thomas's world. The metaphorical paint palette has been lacking a good stark contrast. Plus we'd never be able to come up with something like Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus" without you to fill in the creative bits that I'm not good with." Patton: "He means that he sucks at them." Roman: looking at Patton shocked, "What?"

Patton: shrugging, "It's the truth Roman. I've sugar coated that knowledge all this time cause Remus wasn't around to demonstrate how to do it properly." Janus: in mock surprise, "Why Patton, did I just hear that you've been lying to not hurt Roman's feelings?" Patton: staring Janus straight in the eyes, "Yes, yes you did. You were absolutely right that there are times when it's not only appropriate, but necessary to lie. I realized that without Remus, Thomas had to have Roman around and functioning. He couldn't have a day off, so to speak. So I may have helped to inflate his ego to the point it's at to this day." Janus: nodding smugly, "Ok." Remus: "So what you're saying Roman. is that you couldn't:

♫ Ever hear the werewolf cry to the red blood moon Or asked the grinning cannibal why he grinned Can you sing with all the voices of the trash mountains Can you paint with all the colors of the foul wind?♫

Roman: scrunching face in disgust, "I loved that song." Remus: chuckling, "I know."

Roman: "But... Yes. I was wrong, you were all important parts of Thomas. I have stewed on that knowledge for awhile now and I've hated myself more by the day for that moment of selfish whim. *crying* I missed Virgil, Janus, but most importantly I missed my brother."

Janus: sharing a glance with Remus, "That's a sincere admission." Remus: nodding, "We'll never get along like we used to." Patton: "I think that's fine actually. We've all gotten older, and changed in one way or another. Nothing remains in stasis forever. Not the body, brain, or emotions." Logan: "I've learned a lot since then, and I've known for some time that I was wrong. I just... couldn't bring myself to confront my past." Virgil: "Yes, that's something I had to push you to do."

Janus: "Well, there's really only one thing left to discuss then." Remus: "Indeed." Patton: "You don't mean?" Logan: "I'm pretty sure they do." Roman: "Are we sure Thomas is ready?" Virgil: "Ready or not, he'll have to deal with it eventually. Best to treat it like a Band-aid and rip it off quick."

Faint tapping comes from a table in the distance.

Unknown Speaker: "So you expect me to show up?" Logan: "It is inevitable, you are an aspect of Thomas." Patton: "But not necessarily the final aspect of Thomas." Janus: "We all rely on you in one way or another." Roman: "Ditto." Remus: "My brother is emotionally overloaded, ignore him. I think you should come in like a wrecking ball when you make your appearance into his life. Just Kool-Aid man your way into the room." Patton: "I think that's a terrible idea. Do you know how much we'd have to pay in repair costs if he did that?" Unknown speaker: chuckling, "In time, perhaps."

Unknown speaker: "I believe we're done for this round table of the psyche?" Logan: "I've got nothing productive to add." Virgil: "I've certainly enjoyed having these again." Patton: "I feel like we made a lot of progress." Janus: "I feel like I'm gonna hurl if you keep up that always positive facade." Remus: "I CAN HURL ON COMMAND, DO YOU WANT TO SEE?" Everyone else: screaming, "NO!"

Unknown Speaker: "Very well then, I'm gonna head back to my mind palace. Thomas will meet me, eventually. If it's necessary."

[aprilskyforever]

Henny ranks Eurovision 2021: 1st edition, March 21st

aaaaadn we’re BACK! all songs have been out for about a week (well, still waiting for the set me free revamp so it’s the previous version i’ve ranked here) and i’ve had some time to think so let’s gooooo! also, i gotta say, with so many returning artists this year you can’t help but comparing last years to this. so... that’ll happen a lot.

category: hits the right spot

1 Malta - all of my love wasn’t really my thing last year but this? this is SO my jam! maybe not so much the attitude in the prechorus (the hell no i don’t want your money part), and the brass drop, but the beat in the verses? and the chorus melody (the baby it’s not a maybe part)? boy!!! i love it!!!! and this was a song i just yelled out YESSS to when i heard it the first time so i feel that means something 2 Sweden - a very worthy winner of melfest, he’s a great vocalist, he’s cute, and the song is one i’m yet to grow tired of despite it being on the radio 24/7. it happens so rarely that my personal winner actually wins melfest, and i really want us to get that silver medal... please 3 Switzerland - the only reason i don’t want this to win is because it has too much of a similar vibe as arcade and i don’t want that vibe to win twice in a row. otherwise it’s perfect 4 San Marino - finally san marino does somehting right!! i love it. plain and simple.  5 Norway - it’s looking like andreas haukeland is becoming my crush of the season because BOY i am WEAK for this guy. can’t resist him. nor the song 6 Russia - manizha has got the be the coolest woman this year. i’m in awe. i’m playing this on repeat 7 Iceland - i wasn’t super into this at a first listen but i’ve totally warmed up to this and along with russia it’s one of the songs i’ve streamed the most the last couple of days. daði really knows how to make a beat!

category: enjoying it for sure

8 Bulgaria - victoria was my winner last year but this song doesn’t hit just as right. i still like it, feels like a closing kind of song. like the last dance of the night 9 Lithuania - again, a downgrade from last year, but still really good 10 Moldova - i love the studio of this so much (i mean hello it sounds like something maruv would do how can i not like it) but the video makes me worried, can natalia dance? how about dance and sing at the same time? i really feel like she will be the weakest link in this package... and she really does feel like kirkorov’s puppet. which leaves a sour aftertaste 11 Italy - something different for italy!! love that. and i love them, måneskin. the song though... i’m eating it but it’s not my favourite meal you know? 12 Latvia - samanta does more or less the same song as last year but in her case it definitely works. it feels like her brand you know? she owns this  13 Netherlands - jeangu on the other hand is switching it up and i am HERE for it! lovely vibe. lovely aesthetic in the video 14 Germany - this is fun! i know it’s a water devider, you either love it or hate it, and i loved it initially but have cooled down a bit now. but it’s uplifting for me. i love what he’s got going on

category: it’s nice but something’s off

15 France - see this is beautiful, but it’s the ending that throws me off. it gets so... ridiculously french, in a way? do you get what i mean then 16 United Kingdom - fun! i’ll bop to it. but it’s like a chewing gum that loses flavour too quickly. i love that he’s doing something differently but honestly, i preferred his 2020 entry 17 Czech Republic - has a nice groove! i like this better than kemama but it actually feels kinda same as with the uk. 18 Ukraine - i preferred the pre-revamp but hey, it’s still miles better than last year for me personally so that’s a win 19 Slovenia - the way i felt at a first listen is what i imagine the jury felt for tamara todevska in 2019. it’s impactful for sure. but the lyrics!! not that i have a problem with the church but this is... idk a bit much. i like it as a whole but i’ll have no problem letting it go if it fails to qualify  20 Ireland - idk if it’s the production but whyyyy do lesley’s vocals sound so weird!! i definitely liked story of my life way more 21 Croatia - actually nothing’s really “off” about this it’s just a bit uninteresting 22 Azerbaijan - efendi is doing the same song again basically but this year it doesn’t hit right at all. to me it feels like it lacks personality. like, is this the only thing she can do? who is she actually? this just feels like a typical azeri approach to esc; ordering a song from swedish songwriters (which idek if they’ve done this year but it feels like it) and given it to some singer with no regard of if this is their usual style. idkkkk like i bop to it but it feels wrong at the same time 23 Belgium - it’s the chorus. i don’t like it. i like the rest. that’s all 24 Georgia - it’s cozy but too slowwwww. takes too long to get somewhere. perfect for a lazy summer day in a hammock but on the eurovision stage? oh i’m just not too sure

category: *shrug* it’s nice i guess?

25 Finland - i love that finland loves it but this just isn’t really for me 26 Romania - nahhh idk 27 Spain - cute i guess? i don’t have much to say 28 Cyprus - idk but this provokes me. it’s good but it’s bad. you know? the random spanish lyrics... or let’s be real the lyrics in general... and the melody sounding like walmart bad romance.. nope 29 Australia - i think montaigne’s style just isn’t for me 30 Austria - it’s alright! but not as powerful as i think he wants it to be 31 Albania - this is just very cookie-cutter albanian ballad with a screaming woman and it’s getting old

category: it’s a no from me

32 Greece - i’m so sorry but this is so forgettable i’ve heard this multiple times and i could only sing back like one or two lines to you 33 Denmark - the europals in the servers are eating this for some reason and i am just not seeing the appeal. props for sending something in danish though. sweden could learn a thing or two 34 Israel - hmm no this is just. boring 35 Serbia - i just can’t get around to this. i can enjoy slutpop but it’s gotta be good slutpop then 36 North Macedonia - the fact that i felt “ohh no no noooo” when i first heard it... yikes. i WILL applaud that vasil does something that feels more right for HIM though. it’s just not for me 37 Portugal - i don’t care that portugal doesn’t sing in portuguese but myyy this is boring 38 Estonia - /: 39 Poland - tvp’s poster boy... i read in the comments of his song that “this is not poland’s representative, this is tvp’s” or something like that and honestly. i felt that 

[mirovoi1]

REFLECTIONS OF A JAILBIRD

It can be quite hard to force myself to concentrate on writing when myriad distractions abound: I have the internet, snacks at hand, and a curious mind that prefers wandering than getting stuck into the arduous task of gathering my thoughts and organising them into one structured essay.

What is worse is that there are also myriad birds outside my windows that are eager to show off how free they are - while it is me that is cooped up inside an aviary. And this has been my daily life for months already here, in the middle of Istanbul.

The world has surely been turned upside down.

And my state of being has now too.

Have you ever been to prison without being involved in a crime?

The laws of lockdown have worked; they have successfully restricting my body to the house, but it has also set loose thoughts and emotion; and the things that stir inside an idle being.

In fact, I am usually the opposite: a busy body with a braindead head – not a rioting soul in a dead body.

Thus, has been a rare chance to engage in some very unique, albeit testing, self-reflection and what I have observed is that my own mind is actually hell-bent on getting away from me.

Out of due respect for public health, I have not really been anywhere for a full three months. And during this home-sentence, I have been battling with another prison: a mental prison consisting of high walls that forbid me from doing any proper constructive written work.

The summer warmth has arrived in Istanbul; finally replacing the long, wet winter - the heat and sunlight have come and replenished the empty hole that is known as ‘lockdown’. This is a very good change in events. Weather does alter one’s mood.

The uplifting summer-scented air has called me to begin writing down a few notes to share with you all. Although, however lovely days of sunshine and birdsong may be, it seems my newly-found prison-life has offered some useful (and dire) insight into how many lives are lived.

*

Morning after morning after morning, I wake up in the same fashion, with the sound of pigeons outside my bedroom window. They sit there and mumble the same stuff at each other. I get up for a coffee. The sparrows chirp like mad in the big leafy trees from morning till dusk and I am always here to hear it. Now that all forms of unnatural noise have subsided over the past weeks, the world has revealed that there are even chickens living on the banks of in front of the apartments opposite me.

Who would think chickens exist in a city of fifteen million people? Well, I believe it. It is hard not to believe it when their bleating is sometimes all that is left over now that cars and engines sounds have left the room. Right now, it is a bird’s world and I feel as if I am the only living creature that sits around stagnating all day.

Those birds are busy with their lives and I am the one who is sat in the bird cage waiting for some sort of seeds to appear in my bowl.

*

During my lifetime, I have always wondered how come old people so often tend to be miserable.

I was confused as to why oldies were always angry when kids’ balls come over their fence. I thought that old people should know that life goes along better when the world is a tolerant and friendly place - after all, judging by their bent posture and wrinkly skin, it could be safe to say that they have been around for a bit and should be aware of the tricks of the trade.

The world over, I have been yelled at by grumpy old people – usually for noise or some other form of unruliness. But my anticipation for some eventual grey-haired wisdom to save the day always fell through as they most often would revert back to their own form of unruliness – that being their decrepit emotional composure in the face of something minor.

I always liked to imagine that someday, I will become the seemingly only old man in the world who is patient, kind and unconcerned with little things that are of no apparent bother. I thought I would be the kindest granddad who would come out of his house, and instead of shouting with a stick in hand, he would come with a packet of chocolate biscuits and tell the kids just how great they are doing with their soccer skills.

But now I get it.

A silent, idle life, void of real things to do and people to talk to just makes people become dank. Now I understand. A rattle in the refrigerator has the power to really piss people off. I never knew of that rattle when my life extended beyond these four walls.

In a tiny little world, tiny little things just appear so big.

Now I realise, I too, in the future, am capable of becoming an angry old man.

*

In Istanbul you often have company from giant seagulls which are a key part of the infrastructure of this giant port city. Istanbulites love to feed animals, and these massive birds easily get their beaks into heavy pieces of stale bread. They do not want to share their findings with others and so they fly onto the rooftops and drop it, hack at it and throw it around in order to break it into smaller, edible size pieces.

I live on the top-floor and often have to deal with them stomping around on my roof. I have a rooftop sky-window that I can open up and be part of the goings on up there, but they are too busy to care. They are very happy. I am not though, and I give them the evil stare from under the window pane. And, again, they are too busy being happy to care.

*

May is the month of Ramadan and at times some very rhythmic Anatolian music seeps out from behind some bushes somewhere near where those chickens live. There is also drumming at 2am each night. Sometimes I hang myself out the fifth-floor window to try to get a piece of the vibe. I always found the concept of music to be extremely fascinating. Music is such a human thing.

I admit I have felt a bit self-conscious before dancing in front of other people, but I have to say that I feel downright embarrassed doing so in front of animals. So, I don’t. I am sure animals understand the pleasure in moving around and having fun, but the style we do it in… well, I don’t know about that. We must look absolutely ridiculous. But it is Ramadan, and it is a time for celebration.

There is a family of crows that lives in a branch – rent-free – just opposite my biggest windows in the lounge area. I enviously watch them coming and going, and taking turns at sitting on their babies. They screech and caw, as I do when I think I am singing.

As I hum along to these sudden outbreaks of traditional folk tunes, I wonder why we humans feel the need to offer a bit of our own noise to an otherwise good-enough piece of music. We also like to move our bodies along with to the beat, as if that was called for. If you can get past your own two feet, that is, then this timely shuffling is generally known as ‘dancing’.

So, it seems that adding some singing, some lyrics, and well, ultimately some sort of mouth and body movement to the music, it just makes it all come alive.

*

We humans make order of our thoughts through speech. We navigate our world through the use of the mouth; through words; through language, through lyrics, through conversation, through stories, constantly feeling the need to incessantly release some form of mouth-made noise with/to/towards/at other people: we engage in civil, amicable chitter-chatter; we emit our oral vibrations out of rage at poor kids who have lost their ball over the fence, we thrust our noises into the music as we groove along in tow…

…and somehow this makes us feel better about the world.

I can honestly say I am utterly embarrassed to be a human. But, the innate, instinctive need for talk and movement dictates our psyche. The necessity for social interaction with other people and physical interaction with our environment is indisputable. This is the source of a large part of our health. And without it, well…

We humans are a group mammal after all – perhaps more so than the feathered ‘free-folk’ outside that even feel free enough to crap all over my windowsills. But it is obvious: being around people and engaging in meaningful conversation regulates our mood and emotions so that we can avoid entering the otherwise guaranteed free-fall to hell…

…where a lot of us are right now.

All of this has now become starkly clear as I sit in here doing the opposite of what a healthy person does. All the animals accentuate the fact that they can get more done in life now that us human-beings have ceased to be part of the furniture; and we are not around anymore to bother them. Unless I decide to dance behind the glass or something - and that could bother a soul or two.

I mean, if you have to be a human being, then you also have to know how to meet a human being’s needs. That is not to say I dance, but it does mean one needs to be able to think well, speak properly, and move more.

This may seem obvious and straightforward, but I can assure you… it is not.

Just as one may think six months at home would be heaven, and when it comes around you realise it is actually a nightmare. Human beings may sit around in their homes dressed in clothes with their fancy gadgets, but can assure you, we do not always really understand what it is that we need. Nor do we properly see things for what they are…

A lot of us have never learnt to think, nor learnt to move, nor learnt to speak. Properly, that is.

*

Over the years, I have had a number of students who could fall under the category of ‘depressed’; or ‘hell-bound’ would be a better way to put it.

There is a thing called clinical depression, but this dispiritedness is often just simply an environmental, psychological, physiological or sociological inadequacy or imbalance. Sort of like a form of vitamin deficiency that comes good again with the right adjustments.

That is basically to say… yes, as it seems, a lot of melancholy folk typically seem to lead a full-time lifestyle of lockdown.

Try that! What a bloody existence…

I have observed many teenagers of mine who regularly take part in physical activity in their daily lives, be it sports or dance, are generally much more mentally and emotionally healthy – not to mention physically so. They tend to hold onto less negative energy and have a lighter, bouncier kick in their way of being.

Those that have good social, conversational and inter-personal skills tend to have these similar healthy characteristics. In short, those that are well-equipped to meet their simple human needs fare well in the world.

But this species of well-equipped kid is actually depressingly rare. A huge number of adults do not qualify either. That has frustrated me for a long time.

*

Normally at this time of year, I would be busy preparing for the summer holidays for when my students and I hit the long road with our backpacks on.

This year, that is not going to happen though, which is a pity because we were planning for some very exotic locations (Cuba, Madagascar…). And it is also a pity for some of my students that are, and/or have always been full-time-lockdown-lifestylists who would greatly benefit again from a couple of weeks-long de-shackling from the mundane.

However, this virus has offered me a very unique opportunity:

With the ditching of my passport and car-keys and the forgoing of my usual travel-lifestyle, I now get the chance to exist on this great planet in another fascinating way…

By being in prison, experiencing the psychological state of depressed prisoners, getting to know and understand the inner-world of many of my students, rehearsing for when I am old, and getting to write about it all.

More unfortunate is getting to brush up on my knowledge about myriad aspects of birdlife and how damning similar it is to ours. Even more unfortunate than that is the succumbing to the fact that I am capable of using words like ‘myriad’ myriad times in a six and a half page-long essay…

13 May 2020

(Period of lockdown from Covid-19)

(Some Photos from Around My Place in Istanbul)

[kalee60]

Okay time to gush. I’m in awe of how you can turn out chapter after chapter of a fic and all of them be so amazing. I’ve struggled with writing for over 20 years. Even now I’m trying to finish a fic that’s already at 16k words right now with no end in sight. I am inspired by your ability to write beautifully and cohesively without compromising yourself or your story.

Lisa... Wow - this is just one of the lovliest things I've ever received, you're way too kind ❤️

I feel that I'm inundating people with Fics at the moment because of the challenges I'm doing, so first up it's great to hear that you're not put off with all the content - and even more so that the calibre of writing is holding up (Phew).

So, I've always been a storyteller, was writing full stories from an early age, creating worlds and characters, I have the craziest imagination which means I can create a story out of one word, or an action or just a vague idea.

But I won't lie, I completely struggle too, it's not easy to find motivation, time, inclination and that pesky thing called a muse. But I try to carve out time every day to write, even if it's only to dot point plot ideas, or conversations - my mind is constantly turning over storylines while I'm doing other things (which can be so frustrating, but also great when inspiration hits!) I also have a great support network in real life and here online which helps like you wouldn't believe!

I'm just in a creative groove right now and seem to be writing a LOT and in my case it's unfortunately true what they say, the more I write the easier I find the words flowing.

And 16k that's huge (is this the evanstan fic that I've seen you chatting to Minnie about?) If so I'm very much looking forward to reading it when you're finished - and no end in sight - it's sounding like an epic!! ❤️ But I'm throwing all good writer vibes your way and if you find yourself struggling, reach out for a chat any time!

Thanks again for this gorgeous message it completely made my night 😘

[amwritingmeta]

15x05: How to Fight God

Proverbs 17:3 --> The crucible for silver, the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart.

This proverb really gets to me when looking at it in the light of 15x05, but also when looking at how it relates itself to the series as a whole, because our boys are going through nothing short of a trial by fire, their whole world and sense of self is beginning to take flame and that sounds poetic af, but it’s also so fucking poignant that I can’t even. 

Because isn’t this what their whole journey has been? And what it’s been about, too, meaning that the trial by fire serves an actual purpose, the get rid of the impurities (if you will) while the actual trial isn’t by fire, but lies truly in the aftermath, in the lessons and the learning curve: the heart stuff.

That aside, of course, applied to 15x05 it’s quite literally God testing their hearts - and what they’re really made of - by throwing them a proper curve ball in Lilith, not to mention this revealing the fact that he’s still a presence. 

We open on Sam, who’s checking his phone to see if Cas has finally replied to all the concerned texts Sam has sent him (my heart leaped I loved it so much!) (of course Sam wouldn’t not reach out) (and amazing that Cas literally decided then and there to walk out the door and he just removed himself entirely) (also - poor Sam!) (he lost a friend!!) and Cas hasn’t gotten back to him.

Buuuut!

Cut to the end of the episode and Sam is just hanging up from having an actual conversation with Cas. Sorry, this was me remembering this entirely wrong and not double-checking - it went straight to voicemail and is clearly stated as doing so, pls, ignore my ignorance!

There’s still a nice, subtle bookend here, and it still underscores the change we get from the opening scene to the closing: the brothers both believing they’re back to business as usual (with the difference of how now they’re actually holding the reins) vs. realising God isn’t gone and that the status quo is not something they can fall back on here.

Speaking of the status quo, the way things have always been, the saving people, hunting things, family business side to the brothers’ lives that is, as far as they’re concerned, the cornerstone of their identities... yeah, let’s speak of that for a bit, because if we look at the episode I believe the status quo, or perhaps the repeat patterns, is/are actually the answer to the question Dean finishes the episode with: 

How do we fight God?

So then.

How To Fight God

This is basically speculation based in my meta reading of the episode so pinches of salt, loves, but it’s intriguing to me to think about what the rules of this world actually are, because this is GOD the CREATOR, right? Yeah.

How can you, the puppet, defeat your puppet master when your puppet master determines which of your strings are pulled at any given moment? 

Well, firstly, I’m stuck on the exchange between Dean and Cas from 15x02:

Cas: You don’t think I’m angry? After what Chuck did? After what he took from me? He killed Jack. But that doesn’t mean it was all a lie. [...] Even if we didn’t know that all of the challenges that we face were born of Chuck’s machinations, how would we describe it all? We’d call it life, because that’s precisely what life is. It’s an obstacle course. And maybe Chuck designed the obstacles, but we ran our own race, we made our own moves, and mostly we did well with that. Dean: Did we? I’ll tell you what we do know - nothing about our lives is real. Everything that we’ve lost, everything that we are, is because of Chuck. So maybe you can stick your head back in the sand, maybe you can pretend that we actually had a choice... I can’t. Cas: Dean. You asked what about all this is real -- we are.

I mean technically Dean didn’t ask anything, he stated that nothing about their lives is real but alright I get that you want to break through, Cas, because this is Cas trying to make Dean understand that not everything has been pre-determined by Chuck.

If free will didn’t exist at all in the narrative, then there would be no room for any kind of stakes, emotional or otherwise. 

If it didn’t come down to what choices each situation brought about and the lessons derived from the consequences of those choices, then the meaning of the character journeys would be completely nullified. 

And these rules of the world we’re watching are most clearly demonstrated to us in the S14 season finale, when Dean makes that epic choice of not shooting Jack, effectively ripping up Chuck’s perfect ending and forcing him to go all mental deity on a power trip on all of their asses. 

So Cas is clearly right in the above exchange, but Dean can’t hear it, and because Dean just refuses to listen, Cas sees no other choice but to leave in 15x03. Because all Cas can see is how Dean refuses to let go of old patterns of thinking, old hang ups and fears, and how Dean finds refuge in blaming an external source rather than gaining perspective, accepting his own level of responsibility (in any situation) and moving forward. 

I’m very curious about the prayer and what level of exposition it will entail. Imagine it being an actual callback to the confession scene in S11, where the exposition of Dean’s internal struggles with his longing for more is so beautifully balanced. Anyway, digression.

What I’m getting at is that choices seem to play an enormous part here, and of course they should, because that’s one of the most prominent thematic threads the writers can pull on. 

Our choices make us who we are. 

It’s not what you are, but what you do. 

No one can tell you who you are, you choose who to be.

And along these, all the times we’ve heard I didn’t have a choice. Often this has been true, when put in a situation that is about not only saving each other, but the world itself as well, but then those world-saving situations wouldn’t really have been brought about if Dean, that first time Sam died, hadn’t made the choice (echoing Mary) to sell his soul to save him, and, of course, none of the choices would’ve been necessary if Mary had let John die, but we know the world that would’ve brought about, so thank...... fate for bad choices.

Perhaps it’s time for good ones.

How do you fight God?

I think you fight him by breaking old patterns, and the only way you can break them is by recognising them for what they are and truly, definitively, moving out of them and into new ones. 

Chuck represents the writer not keeping up with their own character’s progression, right? He’s not seeing what this world he’s created has actually become, without his influence. All he sees is what he wants it to be, rather than all that it is, and he believes in his own control to the extent of not adjusting the obstacles he’s throwing at the boys to their ever evolving view of themselves and what they want for themselves. 

Which is why the plot point of Dean being seduced by Lilith wasn’t even hinted at until she stated, in dialogue, that apparently it wasn’t happening. Thanks to Dean’s progression away from who he was way back when, yeah? Not exactly the same, are you, Dean? 

And which is why I believe the moment when Sam says-->

--> is quite possibly crucial, because Sam can see the pattern, he knows the grooves of it so well that he immediately feels something is off when they’re just handed the solution on a platter, and this hunch proves right, because they know how Chuck’s story works, innately, they’ve lived it for over a decade. 

If they can catch up with this fact, if they can begin to use it to their advantage, that would be very cool. If they begin to go against their old mode of being, if they try to think outside of their own box (as it were), then not only is that a viable way of beating Chuck at his own game, it sets the stage for their final leg of character progression rather beautifully. 

Because it forces them to grow wholly self-aware, to question their choices and weigh the pros and cons. Realisation City. 

And how gorgeous then to have the setup be that to survive and have a healthy sense of control over their own lives, they must evolve away from their old ideas and ideals. *fingers crossed*

And then there’s Chuck as representative of the over-arching shadow, representative of all those things that the boys have battled throughout their journey, and if integration is the goal, then Chuck shouldn’t really be reaped by Billie, should he? I mean, him being reaped by a representative of strong, assertive femininity works on a symbolic level as well, but integration could mean that he simply has his power stripped. 

I’d quite like that, to be honest. The way to fight God is to stop worshipping him, stop believing in what he represents, stop allowing his obstacles to be real obstacles and simply move out of the narrative he’s been telling and into a new one, where his chosen ending makes absolutely no sense. And if Jack returns there may be a player with enough power to actually tell God that his time as ruler of this particular universe is done, because they will fight him, now that they see him for what he truly is. Every step of the way. 

Alright, lots of speculation here, but the thought of the brothers’ progression actually playing a role in how they can defeat Chuck makes me get all goosebump-y! 

The werewolf brothers acted as a Chuck tool of foreshadowing for his chosen ending: one brother killing the other, but there’s a deeper psychological symbology in the werewolf brothers’ story, where one brother’s control and deceit made the other see no other choice but to kill him and then himself, because they were the same. 

So looking at them as representative of the codependency, it’s actually the aspect of control and self-deceit that has to die, in both Sam and Dean, for the codependency to finally break. Sam leading the way (as per the water bottle scene at the start of the episode) and freeing them both in his process of breaking away from Dean. 

And when Lilith says that she had to die in order to get what she wanted, it could be seen as a statement of that same symbolic subtext, and how the brothers’ progression is moving them away from who they have always been, into who they truly are and want to be: they have to kill off their past ideas and ideals, and embrace the truth of this if they’re going to be victorious in this fight.

We shall see, my loves! We shall see!

I’d be remiss if I didn’t say this, though, to a writer who has given us so much:

Thank you, Steve Yockey.

For everything.

[laylacooke]

A New Hope || Lucas & Layla

timing: Sometime last week (5/17- 5/22) parties: @lucastheunlucky & @laylacooke summary: Luke invites Layla over for blanket tents, snacks, and Disney movies.  warnings: Prepare yo-self for this cuteness! ♥

Luke felt terrible about not really introducing himself to Layla before, even if he had literally just got out of the hospital and had a lot on his mind after his attack. But Luke was an extremely caring person and sent her a text inviting her over to his apartment which was equipped to the nines with security to keep them safe. Luke had a plan for tonight, equal parts to combat his boredom and, also, as a peace offering to a calm night for the other. On the couch, he had a short stack of clean lines, clothesline, pins, and various objects to aid in his vision of camping indoors. When he heard the buzz from downstairs he ran over and rang her in, opening his door he waited for her to come up. Offering a crooked smile at seeing her. “Are you picky with snacks? Cause guess what--” he let her into his apartment. “We literally have twenty different kinds.” He laughed. 

Layla had been hesitant about answering Luke’s text. The wolf pack meeting hadn’t exactly been what she had expected, and while she had stayed in her own corner most of the night, it seemed like no one had cared to reach out, and with Salva being there, had only made things worse. But she had played fault in such a bad experience, and in hopes of showing one of her fellow wolves that she wasn’t as bad as she seemed, she had decided to accept his offer. As soon as he opened the door, Layla let a small smile drift over her sad features, “Hey, and uh...if you’ve got any vegan options...if not, it’s totally cool.” She eased inside upon being invited in. Luke’s apartment was homely, and it felt like a safe space to be in. Something she could imagine having someday, if she could ever get her life in order, “Cute place.” Walking over towards a nearby wall, she stood quietly waiting for his lead.

“I mean junk food, so hopefully that’s okay,” he chuckled, showing the actual pile of snacks like Lucas had robbed a few vending machines. “I never get to eat bad, so it’s a treat.” Lucas poured them some drinks, offering lemonade, water, or iced tea. “So, first impressions weren’t the best, but listen-- I’m sorry. I couldn’t entirely focus on anything else. The nice thing about having a few of us around means we can all take care of each other now. Rotate, take when we need too, give when we can. It will balance out.” Lucas seemed sure of it, coming from a place where his family always felt like a pack before they left.

“No, it’s perfectly fine. I’m sure there’s something.” Layla looked at the pile of snacks. It was a lot, but it had been kind of him offering up all the treats for them to share. “I think, since being with Ari, Celeste, and Ulfric, it’s the first time, in a long time, that I’ve been able to eat good. What do you think you’ll eat first?” She looked back to the pile spotting some almonds and sunflower seeds. She had found her snacks. “I’ll go with water. Thanks.” She moved over towards the pile and pulled out a few packs of nuts and seeds. Listening to him talk about the pack, she could see how much of a family they were. She had hoped to eventually navigate her way in, but right now, she had felt like the outsider of the bunch. “And you don’t have to apologize. I know I wasn’t very friendly. I just still sorta feel like the outsider and being around a bunch of people makes me nervous, especially when I don’t know most of them, and one of them is a complete douche.” She paused, “Salva’s the douche...to clarify…”

Lucas chuckled, grabbing three different bags of chips, and plopping right on the floor in the living room. “Well, this is new for everyone. I’m not used to even existing for people to care about. I only just got my brother back. So, it’s alright to feel weird--” he paused, realizing he used the same description word Regan always used. “Not weird,” he corrected. “Just, different. Change is always going to be a ride.” He felt a little affection over her explain who the douche was at the get together. “Everyone has a variety of experiences to shape them. Sometimes the ones who are the meanest, and the loudest are the ones who are the loneliest in the group. We’re all a bit messed up, we gotta make do. Try to live. I hope that for you too.” Lucas sighed a little, trying to believe his own words, which would be a challenge, but he was determined. “So, think we can make a tent in here without further injuring ourselves?” 

If Layla was going to make the most of hanging out and getting to know Lucas, she knew she needed to lighten up. Her mind had been so clouded with darkness lately that it was hard to be happy and cheerful, even during Ariana’s adventures in pie making. But she was tired of being sad. Tired of feeling alone. And tired of just being. Without second guessing herself, the young wolf took a seat on the floor next to Lucas, “I get everybody’s going through their own drama. Throwing a moody baby wolf at everyone is probably the last thing on anyone’s mind, especially since there’s talk of...murdering a man?” She still wasn’t entirely sure what that was about, and did she really want to know? Looking to the stack of sheets and stuff needed to make a tent, Layla pondered the idea, before looking down to her red cast. “You know what?” She looked back to Lucas, “If someone can get a group of furry, full moon worshiping dogs together in one room, how hard could it be to put up a tent on our own?” It couldn’t be that hard, right?

“No murdering,” Lucas lied. “And you don’t have to worry about this particular hunter, ever. But, I’m here for you in the capacity I can be, alright.” He bumped her shoulder. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” A cheesy smile spread easily on Lucas, looking up at the banister leading to his loft bed. “Maybe, we can connect it there first with ties? That way we know for sure one corner will be pretty secure.” Luke said all this in between chips. “Climbing that ladder has been a feat, let me go up and you can try to feed them to me.” Rolling up, he made his way up to the loft, using only one arm to hull up and balance on it. This is probably why Miles wanted him at his cabin. “Okay, I can sorta reach you, heh. Can you get the sheet up?”

She didn’t know if he was lying or not, but she also didn’t want to get wrapped up in anything. Layla had already found herself in enough trouble. The shoulder bump brought a soft smile to her face and made her feel accepted, “Thanks. I know you don’t really know me, but the same goes for you too.” Looking up to the banister and back to Lucas, she nodded, “Yeah, we’ll make this work.” Getting up, she watched as he maneuvered up to the loft. Layla grabbed the blanket off the couch and carefully climbed up the latter, so she could pass it over to him, “What do you need next?” This was going to be a task at hand, especially considering how weak she had been, but she wanted this. She needed something fun and silly.

Lucas took the blanket and tied a knot on the bottom of the banister, letting the rest hang down. “Let’s maybe knot a few on the other end by you? That way we can drape it over some chairs or something? Luke pondered cutely, poking his cheek and pursing his lips, “yeah, maybe, the sheet instead of another blanket so it’s not too heavy. You got that?” He asked, securing a few more knots on the banister so when they pulled on it or it had more weight, it wouldn’t unravel. “Also, I haven’t done this since I was like, nine, have you ever built a blanket tent before? I have three siblings, including Miles, and we’d always do stuff like this. But I’m having a blank moment remembering them.” 

Layla did as he had requested making sure the knots, she tied, were good and secured. Ironically enough, one of the survivalist techniques her parents had drilled into her mind were various types of knots, and those skills were coming out as they worked on the blanket tent, “How does that look? I can tie it a different way, if you need me to.” She hadn’t really realized it, until he had said something about making blanket tents as a kid; something she had never actually experienced being an only child to werewolf hunters. But what she had learned how to do was set up tents, start fires, and basically survive in the wild if it didn’t involve hunting or killing things. Face fading into a blank stare at this realization, she replied to Lucas, “Yeah, I wouldn’t know. I can set up a real tent and teach you how to survive in the wild, until the cows come home, but typical childhood things, you might have to google, unless you like tea parties and The Little Mermaid…” She blinked a few times before looking over to him with a sad smile.  

“No, shit-- that looks awesome, knew I called the right person, hehe,” he gave a cheesy grin, finishing up his work and jumping down the ladder to land gracefully on the ground. He stood up, tugging on the blankets, and sheets, opening them up little and seeing how far they would spread open. “I get that, some families don’t always give you everything you might need. This stupid shit? Playing? It’s so important to do, keeps you happy, reminds you of simple things like laughter. I’ll make sure you get lots of playtime in now and do fun stuff. I always have ideas.” He pet the back of her head affectionately, a motion that Lucas did with everyone to show he cared about them. It was always with a little scratching of his nails, and a rub with his thumb before he walked away. “I personally always like The Emperor's New Groove. Heh, just thinking about ‘LLLAMA FACEEEE-- ahh haha, get’s me rolling every time.” Luke started pushing the couch closer to the sheets with his shoulder and grabbing some chairs so they can lift the other end up.  

She smiled when she noticed the cheesy grin, he had given her. At least her hunting techniques had paid off somehow, and, in the best way, because no one would get hurt, “I might have to take a picture of this when we’re finished. Show Ari my first blanket tent.” It was weird to think she could still play at eighteen, but the thought comforted her, especially knowing that Lucas was just as willing to keep her young at heart. Feeling him pet the back of her head had startled her slightly, but when she felt the affection, the teenager closed her eyes for the briefest of moments taking in the ease of the situation and cherishing the opportunity he had given her to just be a kid. When the moment had passed, she turned her attention back on Lucas, “Do you know how to walk the Llama, Llama?” Layla could feel herself letting her guard down; a feeling she had long since forgotten. Realizing what he was doing, the red-head moved to help him, “This is gonna be pretty awesome when we’re done with it. Thanks for inviting me, Luke.” She looked over at him with kindness in her eyes as she continued to help.

“Okay. It’s settled. We watch The Little Mermaid then The Emperor's New Groove tonight. And if it gets too late, another night,” Luke said easily, together the chairs secured the bottom half of the blanket canopy and stepping back it looked a bit of a mess in the loft space, but under it with the cushions off the couch and spare pillows and snack— it was pretty neat. He plopped on his back and stared up, his arm resting on his chest and enjoyed it for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he said with quiet delivery. “Squeeze in, let’s take one ugly selfie to mark our success—“he pulled out his phone and angled it badly. He was already laughing but tried to squish his chin and make a silly, bad face for the picture. 

“Deal.” This was one of the best moments Layla had had since coming to White Crest. Everything with Ariana and Celeste had been special, but this was different. She felt like it was just a normal moment of not trying to fit in or act the way a werewolf should. She was genuinely starting to feel good about herself and the moment she was having with Luke. Finding her place under the tent, she settled in. Laughing and shaking her head, she gave into his request, and made the funniest face she could think of. “Can you send that to me?” She grabbed a pack of sunflower seeds and laid back down onto one of the pillows staring up at the top of the tent, “How are you feeling?”

“Mhmm--” he texted her quickly and showed that it was now in fact her picture for when she called. Lucas actually giggled a little, finding it quite amusing with their silly faces. He rolled up and sat crossed legged. “I’m still pretty tired, but that’s understandable. I don’t know if people told you about that, but you need to be eating well to heal up well. Or, that’s what my mom used to say. Calories, sugars, good fats, all needed and what not to speed up the process.” Lucas knew that question could mean the other half of that same coin involving him, so he added. “I’m hanging on--” he chuckled a little. “I’m way tougher than I let people know about. It’s my secret power. Being able to get back up even if it’s hard and hurts.” He opened a new box of treats and pulled out some fruit roll ups. “Hmm, have you tested your strength much yet?” 

Layla couldn’t help but laugh when she had seen what Lucas had done with the picture. It was the first one she had taken since coming to White Crest, and it was one she would cherish. Even though she hadn’t really known him when Ari had clued her in on what had happened, she had still felt bad. She hated seeing people in pain or hurting. It’s why she had made the world’s worst hunter, “I’ve been told. I just haven’t really felt like eating lately. Ari’s been making me Beyond Burgers, and I like the veggie burritos from Veggie Tables, but my appetite just isn’t there. I’m glad to hear that you’re doing a little better though, and I’m sorry I haven’t been much help in terms of...whatever is supposed to happen. It must be a nice power to have, but don’t forget to take care of yourself.” She poured a few sunflower seeds out of the packet she had grabbed earlier and popped them in her mouth, “I punched a tree…” She held up her hand with the cast, “Does that count?” The tree seemed to have won though, but she had left a rut in it the size of her fist.

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ dramatically, but Luke showed in his expression that he really did understand it. He’s been there. Being a teenager once with hormones and the change happening, he’d hit things until they were dented, and he was left bleeding. “Miles and I are pretty good on regimen things. You saw my brother, right? We got strength training on lock. If you want to learn your limits, you call on us. I’m working with Simon too, we’re going to be a strong ass pack, right? We gotta show off our muscles, hehe,” he chuckled while rolling the fruit roll up into a ball. “Also, you don’t always have to be the one giving help ya know? It’s okay. It will always balance out if your heart is there for it.” 

“I used to do some things back when life wasn’t all...Who am I kidding, it’s always been fucked up. Are you guys meeting up at a gym or something? Maybe once this thing is off my arm…” She held up the hand and arm that was dressed in a brace and shook it, “I can join you, and learn how to take out my rage in a healthier manner.” She ate a few more seeds, “I’ve got a little muscle.” Layla sat down the pack of sunflower seeds and flexed her tiny little muscle with a sheepish grin spreading across her face. It wasn’t much, but she was proud of it. Picking her snack back up, she resumed eating, speaking in between bites, “I know. I guess I just feel like if I suppress my problems enough and help other people, what I’m feeling will eventually just go away. Out of sight, out of mind sorta deal.” She knew it wasn’t healthy, but that’s where her head and her heart currently remained.

“I hear that all the time from others. It doesn’t go away. Sucks big time, I know,” Lucas didn’t want them to fall into bad thoughts together. It was easy for him to feel awful enough to contemplate the worst of things. “We’ll show you. It will forever be difficult for you though. Just know that and own it. You will get better; I can’t imagine you getting worse.” He laughed a little, to keep the mood light. “But all our training is outdoors. We climb rocks and run in the woods. Push boulders and jump from big heights. It's the best form of training. You will find something primal about it. Or I hope so.” He rolled on the side and pulled his laptop over and scrolled through Disney + in hopes the Little Mermaid was on there. “Come on, let’s chill.” He yanked a soft blanket over and a big pillow.

She appreciated his honesty. The last thing Layla had needed was for everything to be sugar coated, “Thanks for being honest. I really do appreciate it. And believe it or not, I can take a hit. Outdoor training sounds great actually, and I’m kinda looking forward to just the release of it all.” She finished off her sunflower seeds and chased them with a drink of water. Finding a cozy spot next to Lucas, she settled in. Whether it was The Little Mermaid, Emperor’s New Groove, or whatever, she was just glad to be doing something normal. Something that didn’t make her feel like it was fight or flight, and as she looked over at Lucas, Layla took in every part of this moment, so she could look back on it, when she felt sad the next time.

[paperclipninja]

NCIS post-ep ramble 17x01

I know it’s been days since the season 17 premiere and I had every intention of writing something earlier but just didn’t have time (plus I have been so caught up in reading everyone’s thoughts and reblogging all these posts and general flailing that honestly, who has the time for anything??) but I most certainly do have a few thoughts and feelings about the ep I’d like to get down.

For those who don’t know me that well, hi :) and also, I’ve always been rather partial to a post-ep ramble (which is basically me trying to process everything by dumping many words here) so I thought I’d throw a few words down because let’s be real, ‘Out of the Darkness’ was A LOT.

Ok, so can we talk about the opening scene, because it seemed like a classic NCIS ‘guys doing a dodgy deal but wait, the team needs the vehicle’ kinda moment but then FINGERS. Actual freaking fingers on that car dash and I should mention I was live streaming this episode on the train on my way to work and I was NOT chill at this point because it was brutal.

I was having so many feelings right from the get go, I mean Ziva is back and even through we’ve had months to process this it still felt so surreal yet like she’d not really been gone for that long, except that from the very first interaction with Gibbs in the basement, you could just see that she’s different. It’s subtle but it’s there. I love that the moment Gibbs’ basement starts getting shot up and both he and Ziva are out of ammo, they immediately default to working together to create the makeshift explosive thing, no words, just right into the groove of knowing what needs to happen without treading on one another’s toes.

Meanwhile Nick, McGee and Ellie are obliviously having a drink (lol @ McGee lasting less than two seconds not talking about work), for anyone into the Nick/Ellie ship there was a nice little moment and the three of them hot foot it to Gibbs’ place after after McGee gets the call to say there’s been a shoot out (seriously, can you imagine being Gibbs’ neighbours? The weird-ass stuff that has gone down there over the years, that’d be one house you’d tell the kids to skip for trick or treating). I am so into the follow through from the Ziva set up last season, Ellie feeling like the fabric was familiar was a nice way to bring it all together.

It’s funny, after so many years of watching this show then stepping away for a little while, I’m really not sure what I expected when I heard that Ziva was going to return. My shipper heart is really just locked on to Ziva and Tony finally getting some kind of happiness, but I was unsure what it would be like seeing this character on screen after so long, especially considering the way she was written out initially. Can I just say that the way Ziva has returned to our screen exceeded any expectations I did or did not have. I never in a million years expected this show to not just consider, but actively highlight the toll of all the years of trauma and struggle of Ziva David. A credit to the direction in this scene, but as Ziva began having the anxiety attack in the sewer pipe and we gained our first glimpse of her battle with this demon, it was unnerving to see this character who had always remained so seemingly in control, so vulnerable. But it was also wonderful (and heart-wrenching and sad). I am so grateful to Gina Lucita Monreal (who I Stan v. hard btw) for showing this side to this character because to me, it demonstrates not only the character’s journey, but NCIS’s growth.

Gibbs knowing that Ziva needed space and giving it to her but then finding her in a state that clearly caught him off guard was once again something I was not expecting and I was floored, yet again, when the pills Ziva stuffed back into her pocket were actually addressed and spoken about on the bus (I realise it sounds like I’m just constantly surprised but in the past, it’s the kind of thing that may get followed up about six episodes down the track, though I’m aware there isn’t the luxury of drawn out breadcrumbs with this arc and honestly, I’m grateful).

The scene between Ziva and Gibbs on the bus is quite possibly my favourite interaction between these two characters ever. And yes, I mean in the entire series. Hearing Ziva talk about Tali, explain the significance of the necklace and then put it to Gibbs that wouldn’t he do anything if it meant he could hold his daughter one more time, ugh my heart. The ONLY thing I disliked about this episode was later when Ziva said she wasn’t talking about Kelly. I understand the sentiment and I am here for her calling Gibbs out on giving up on her every day of the week, but in that moment on the bus, it absolutely was and should have been Kelly she was referring to because it was in that moment that she and Gibbs connected on an entirely different level - as parents. And more than that, as parents who know what it’s like to risk everything because of the love they hold for a child. So while I do love that Ziva put it to Gibbs that he abandoned her, I do feel it could have been brought up in a way that didn’t diminish the power of that conversation on the bus. Because when Gibbs reached out and touched that scar on her wrist, it may have been a small gesture but the meaning was huge and yes I did start crying and no, I did not care that I was on a train.

Of course we must talk about Odette. Sweet, old, possibly an assassin or some other kind of highly trained deadly human Odette. When Bishop asked her, ‘who are you, really?’, all I could think was, same girl, same. I am so into this character and I really hope she sticks around because her turning up later in the ep with a car load of weapons and then wanting to join in just upped my curiosity even more.

I really am such a fan of Ellie, I have been since the beginning, and I did feel for her trying to balance the wishes of Ziva and her loyalty to her team. McGee’s reaction to finding out that Ziva was alive and that Ellie knew about it was definitely warranted and my Tiva loving heart is trying very hard not to read too much into everyone’s avoidance of answering whether Tony knows (read: I am 150% reading too much into it and of course he knows because Ziva has obviously been leaving clues the entire time that she’s ok and it’s fine, it’s all fine, I’M FINEEE*)

*I am not fine

Nick is immediately suspicious after the awkward af conversation in Vance’s office where every time he mentions something from the crime scene at Gibbs’, Ellie and McGee very obviously downplay or dismiss it. Plus Ellie’s sweaty neck is apparently a dead giveaway and I love that Kaisie also mentions it because when this show does funny, it does it damn well. Aside from the bus scene, my other favourite scene of this episode was in autopsy when Nick ‘I don’t even know this ninja but this is like the biggest news of my life’ Torres has just learned about Ziva and Jimmy ’you said the thing about Ziva and my ears heard it and now I think I need to sit down’ Palmer also gets clued in and honestly, this entire sequence is absolute gold. I heart Kasie so hard and her discomfort with the ‘weird air’ just lent itself to making the whole thing wonderfully hilarious and the dynamic between all the characters was so on point. Nick and Kaisie really are stellar additions to the show, it just works.

Ziva’s determination to go it alone definitely wavers momentarily after Gibbs has spoken to McGee and asked him to decode the encrypted SD card (so many lols at Gibbs asking Ziva if she wants to talk to McGee then telling him she says hi. Again, the writing in this ep is just brilliant, being able to slot in genuinely light and funny moments between the dark and serious), there’s the ever-so-brief expression before Ziva gets into the car, as though she remembers what it’s like to have a team, her team, working with her. 

What is on the card of course leads Gibbs and Ziva to be standing in the man who uses phrases like ‘dope’ in front of his machete wall’s office and I have to say, his ‘what are these two homeless people doing in my office’ was accurate. The show then stabbed me in the heart with the necklace situation - either her heart or her albatross- and of course it all connects back to Ari (the parallel to Saleem ripping off her necklace was noted). We also get our answer as to why Ziva had those severed fingers in the opening scene which is still gross and brutal but also understandable and much better knowing that the dude was dead when it happened. But still gross.

One thing that really struck me was when McGee, Ellie and Nick see Gibbs and Ziva making their getaway and McGee and Ziva share their moment of locking eyes and her indicating for the team to stay put, it is Ellie who points out that, ‘she knows what she needs better than anyone else’. It was just really interesting to me that McGee’s initial instinct was to go after Ziva and Gibbs, despite Ziva clearly not wanting him to, and it is the woman on the team who points out that he needs to respect Ziva’s wishes and trust her. I have no idea if this was making some kind of larger statement but it felt significant to me for some reason. Plus I just love the respect Ellie has for this woman she has never met and I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for her to see Ziva in the flesh for the first time after harbouring her secret for so long.

We all knew Vance would find out eventually and omg Nick just cracked me up, ‘I’m the least guilty one in here, Bishop is the worst...’, he is just such a great character (in case I haven’t mentioned that enough times). I don’t know enough about Sloane at this stage and I’m a little confused about her role or position so I will catch myself up on that (or feel free to fill me in) but she also seems pretty cool. I think back to early days McGee, the nervous probie who was so unsure and then think of him in this episode, standing in Vance’s office defying orders and all I can hear is Tony’s voice saying, ‘I’m proud of you Tim’. I love that he’s backing Ellie and that he’s standing up for and trusting her and knowing Vance’s history with Ziva, it’s just all such a wonderful coming together of NCIS history and the present.

The final scene of course left us in a TBC moment as Gibbs’ attempt to arrest Sahar (or at least a woman I assume is Sahar but then it’s NCIS so who knows?) is railroaded by Ziva’s adamance that unless she is dead, Sahar will always be a threat. I can’t wait to see how it all unfolds, I’m just loving the speculations and excitement and most importantly, consideration with which the show seems to be bringing back these storylines and characters and really, I do believe we are in for quite a ride and if this episode is anything to go by, one heck of a payoff. 

[deathbyseventeen]

From my story game...

--- 

Alrighty - Good Love from NU’EST’s Aron for Joshua *I'm grooving to the song* shoutout if you can tell where incorporated parts of the song’s lyrics hehehe.

Anyways like I said before, I’m trying to get my sea legs back (my writing abilities) so my apologies if this ain’t it chiefs. (Also I didn’t tag you who requested this bc I didn’t know if it was alright to tag you....) 

To start off let me just say this was making me groove so hard. 

Alright, so this definitely a soft fantasy type of story. Lots of Romance with just a tinge of angst. 

So let’s say this a world where life has moved onto plants far away from ours and because of this Earth can’t really control the life on those plants and they’ve gone rogue and independent, and somehow y’all have gone medieval. You, dear reader, are a member of the royal guard on your planet; and so is Joshua. However, the two of you are part of different teams, the two big teams that everyone wishes to be a part of. The teams’ citizens pit against each other. Just for fun lets call your team “Starlight” and Joshua’s team “Starbright” 

So this is basically how it goes down “Starlight would totally kick Starbright’s ass.” “Would not!” “WOuld too! Starlight has Y/N!” 

This plant y’all live on was discovered to be extremely green. And by green I mean it has Earth-like life -- plant life but to extremes. Plants can move now and grow exponentially. So where does our story begin? 

The dear king of your plant calls both of y’alls teams down to his throne room and makes you each volunteer two people that will go on a mission. These two people, in the end, are you and Joshua because it was decided you both would be the least likely to go at each other's throat. 

Your mission? Figure out what’s been causing the plant to have these extreme tremors. On the other side of the plant. 

So you take off, all geared up with your swords and stuff. Capes and all. 

But do you guys want to hear a little secret? Joshua likes you. And you like Joshua. But... every time he asks you out...you keep saying no. WTH

Traveling through the dense forests Joshua doesn’t bring it up. But when you guys reach your first stop, a little village a day’s away from the main kingdom. 

You guys are trying to conduct interviews, seeing if anything is out of the ordinary. But, people are avoiding you guys. they see you guys and they turn the other way and one guy even ran away. But one kid, one freaking kid decided he’s got nothing to lose and ends up telling you guys that a weird man had been setting things under the ground and threatened the entire village to stay quiet or he would return and kill them all. WoW, Evil. 

Anyways, no one wants to give you guys a room to sleep in and spend the night. So Joshua suggests sleeping in a barn. What other option do you have? And there’s no escaping his flirting. His coddling. His scooting closer to you and enveloping you in his arms because “it’s winter, Nights are colder than ice. WE need to preserve HEAT.” When all he really wants is to cuddle and take you into a really long kiss. And you’re almost asleep when he-- “Y/n?” “Hm?” “Go on a date with me.” “No.” “But why not?” “Because I don’t..like you?” “Y/N.” But that’s where it ends. ALways, And it keeps happening at every stop you make. Now even sometimes when your traveling in the forest.

 (but let's be real here. He doesn’t give up because you actually do reciprocate the flirting he does every now and then)

And then it seems you reach one village that is in the midst of a festival. You guys pause your search for clues as to what the hell the man has been planting underground. You say it’s because this village hasn’t been touched...but really it’s because the villagers have coaxed you both to enjoy their moonlight festival. Long story short-- you end up dancing with Joshua and under all the pretty lights that have been strung across the village. You’re finding it really hard to resist Joshua’s advances. Y’all are dancing when Joshua has the guts to ask you out again and this time you can’t seem to say no but you don't say yes either. Both of you are leaning in getting closer and closer. Your eyes are starting to close and you can feel his breath fanning over your face. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips. They’re brushing over yours when a scream rips through the air and hell is set loose. 

“I warned you what would happen if you didn’t do as I said.” A dude is floating over the festival, getting closer to the people wishing they could sink into the ground. Wait. Is that dude riding a cloud? What the-- 

You and Joshua pull out your swords and face the man when he notices you guys. 

“It seems I have come at the wrong time. No matter, this will teach you all a lesson about disobeying.” He charges at you and somehow you can't seem to move. The entire moment is just overwhelming. The dude is manipulating elements. And just as he's about to grab you, Joshua jumps in front of you. Lightning strikes him and he’s hauled away. 

The villagers are coming up to you screaming. They’re telling you everything and I mean EVERYTHING. Even where to find him. 

You don’t know what to do. can you face this man alone? You need your team! But there’s no time to head back, the man’s hideout is a week’s journey away. So you set off alone. Battling the beasts and deadly plants that pop up along the way. Then you reach the place. This lair is hidden within the structure of these rocky mountains. You haven’t rested, you’re running on pure adrenaline. Your about to set off up the mountain when someone tackles you. 

“What the hell, Y/N?!” It’s your team...and Joshua’s team, all dressed up and ready to go. Oh, and they are going off on you. They know you haven't slept. And you didn’t even send a messenger to tell them what was going on. 

But they’re on your side too, it’s time to get Joshua back. Y’all set off and infiltrate the place. It’s strangely empty. Everyone’s splitting up trying to find Joshua. 

You’re on the brink of tears. Your heart’s pounding. Blood is rushing to your ears. Then you find him, deep underground, at a low level. Keys were conveniently left by the side of the door. 

And when you finally reach Joshua, oh geez, he’s been tortured and stripped of all his gear and armor, left in only his underwear (boxers). He’s a bloody mess on the floor, cuts, and bruises literally everywhere. You’re a mess too, not caring about the noise you’re about to make as you run to him and throw anything and everything in your way away. 

“Joshua?! JoSHua?!” You’re crying, pulling him onto your lap and using your hands to wipe some blood away from his cheeks. “Joshua wake up! Wake up!” 

You can just barely hear him say your name. “Joshua,” you cry. 

“I need...” 

“What? WHat?” You full on sobbing. 

“I need your love.” ....that effig flirt. Really? Right now? 

“Joshua, you idiot.” You cry. You’re trying to stand up and pull him with you when you notice that he has chains attached to his arms. You’re unsheathing your sword, pulling it out to break the chains. You’re so engrossed in getting him out you don't realize there’s someone behind you, and it’s the evil dude! With his own freaking sword. 

Luckily he’s only able to lodge the sword in your shoulder before your teams are running swords at the ready. Jeonghan, one of the members of Joshua’s team gets him before he can kill you. 

but sadly you’re losing a lot of blood, and you’re sleep deprived....and really you didn’t each either on your journey here. My my you aren’t getting past this one. 

You black out. The blood loss is enough. The last thing you see is the floor getting closer, but on the bright side so is Joshua. 

The next time you wake up you’re in the royal infirmary and you’re all patched up! You’ve been ordered bed rest though. But Joshua’s still in the infirmary too and like hell, you’re about to leave. So you sneak off to his cot and just sit there. At one point you reach out to run a hand over a cut he has on his cheek. 

“I’m sorry. Please wake up. I do like you. But our teams--” 

Joshua stirs awake. He mumbles something. ‘

“Josh--” 

“When I’m with you everything is special.” Bam! He opens his beautiful brown eyes TT 

“Wha--” 

“I need--” 

“What? What do you need?” 

“Your love.” He smiles and it hurts! Because you can see it hurts him to smile. 

“Stop smiling you idiot.” You say. He chuckles and you can’t help but bend down to nuzzle his cheek and press a kiss there. But he isn’t having any of that! He’s been waiting for that kiss! So moves his head and pulls you into a kiss, that slow and passionate kiss that oh dear...he’s been waiting so long for. 

On another note - Neither your team nor his were opposed to the both of you. Jeonghan told them all. Joshua had told him how long he had been in love with you before so....

THE END 

SEND IN A FIC TITLE, MEMBER, AND A GENRE AND I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I IMAGINE. OR A SONG AND MEMBER! (GENRE TOO WITH THIS IF YA WANT).

[phroyd]

Officially, “Respect” is a relationship song. That’s how Otis Redding wrote it. But love wasn’t what Aretha Franklin was interested in. The opening line is “What you want, baby, I got it.” But her “what” is a punch in the face. So Ms. Franklin’s rearrangement was about power. She had the right to be respected — by some dude, perhaps by her country. Just a little bit.What did love have to do with that?

Depending on the house you grew up in and how old you are, “Respect” is probably a song you learned early. The spelling lesson toward the end helps. So do the turret blasts of “sock it to me” that show up here and there. But, really, the reason you learn “Respect” is the way “Respect” is sung. Redding made it a burning plea. Ms. Franklin turned the plea into the most empowering popular recording ever made.

Ms. Franklin died on Thursday, at 76, which means “Respect” is going to be an even more prominent part of your life than usual. The next time you hear it, notice what you do with your hands. They’re going to point — at a person, a car or a carrot. They’ll rest on your hips. Your neck might roll. Your waist will do a thing. You’ll snarl. Odds are high that you’ll feel better than great. You’re guaranteed to feel indestructible.

Ms. Franklin’s respect lasts for two minutes and 28 seconds. That’s all — basically a round of boxing. Nothing that’s over so soon should give you that much strength. But that was Aretha Franklin: a quick trip to the emotional gym. Obviously, she was far more than that. We’re never going to have an artist with a career as long, absurdly bountiful, nourishing and constantly surprising as hers. We’re unlikely to see another superstar as abundantly steeped in real self-confidence — at so many different stages of life, in as many musical genres.

That self-confidence wasn’t evident only in the purses and perms and headdresses and floor-length furs; the buckets and buckets of great recordings; the famous demand that she always be paid before a show, in cash; or the Queen of Soul business — the stuff that keeps her monotonously synonymous with “diva.” It was there in whatever kept her from stopping and continuing to knock us dead. To paraphrase one of Ms. Franklin’s many (many) musical progeny: She slayed. “Respect” became an anthem for us, because it seemed like an anthem for her.

The song owned the summer of 1967. It arrived amid what must have seemed like never-ending turmoil — race riots, political assassinations, the Vietnam draft. Muhammad Ali had been stripped of his championship title for refusing to serve in the war. So amid all this upheaval comes a singer from Detroit who’d been around most of the decade doing solid gospel R&B work. But there was something about this black woman’s asserting herself that seemed like a call to national arms. It wasn’t a polite song. It was hard. It was deliberate. It was sure. And that all came from Ms. Franklin — her rumbling, twanging, compartmentalized arrangement. It came, of course, from her singing.

Because lots of major pop stars now have great, big voices, maybe it’s easy to forget that most Americans had never heard anything quite as dependably great and shockingly big as Ms. Franklin’s. The reason we have watched “Showtime at the Apollo” or “American Idol” or “The Voice” is out of some desperate hope that somebody walks out there and sounds like Aretha. She established a standard for artistic vocal excellence, and it will outlast us all.

She, along with Sam Cooke, Ray Charles, Otis Redding, Tina Turner and Patti LaBelle, changed where the stress fell in popular singing. Now you could glean a story from lyrics but also hear it in the tone of the singer’s voice — agony, ecstasy and everything beyond and in between. Roots, soil, pavement on one hand, the stratosphere on the other.

I know. That does just sound like the art of singing. But when gospel left the church and entered the body — the black body — we called that soul. And a good soul artist could make singing for sex sound like she was singing for God. They call that secular music. But it just repositioned whatelse could be holy. Almost nobody — and even then, maybe just Ray Charles — did as much toggling between and conflating of the religious and the randy with as much sincere athletic imagination and humor andswagger as Ms. Franklin.

“Dr. Feelgood (Love Is a Serious Business),” the hit from 1967 that she co-wrote, never fails to chill, arouse and amuse. Ms. Franklin performs it with a mix of exasperation and smoldering anticipation. That song’s never sounded better or more theatrical than it does on “Aretha Live at Fillmore West,” from 1971. Its structural brilliance is that there’s no robust chorus or melody, just Ms. Franklin, her piano, a blues groove and her mood. She wants a friend to get going so she can have sex with her man. But who’s been shown the door with this much flair?

The song starts, “I don’t want nobody always sitting around me and my man.” You could bake a pie in the pause between “nobody” and “always.” And when she gets to “sitting,” she takes a deep, five-second drag on the “s” so that it sounds less like a consonant and more like a lit fuse. The remaining six and a half minutes put you in exhilarated suspense over when her top’s gonna blow.

There are so many things to love about this performance: its sexiness, its playfulness, its resolve, all the space in the arrangement for Ms. Franklin’s singing to stay low until it takes off high, the way that once she finally connects with Dr. Feelgood himself, the crowd audibly connects with the song or, really, just more deeply connects, since people had been shouting stuff like, “Sing it, Aretha!” between her pauses. You can feel in that moment the hold Ms. Franklin had over anybody who ever saw — or heard — her sing. She worked with bottomless reserves of swagger.

We tend not to think of Ms. Franklin that way — as an artist of bravado and nerve and daring, as a woman with swagger. We tend not to think of her this way even though nearly every song she sang brimmed over with it. (She sang about taking care of business — the old “tcb” — and, consequently, having her business taken care of, as much as she sang about respect.) Swagger we left to the Elvis Presleys and James Browns and Mick Jaggers. But “swagger” is the only word for, say, her approach to the music of other artists.

It didn’t matter whether it was a Negro spiritual or something by the Beatles. It was all wet clay to her. The Supremes, Frank Sinatra, Leonard Cohen, Adele, Simon and Garfunkel, James Taylor, ? and the Mysterians, C & C Music Factory: She oversaw more gut renovations than a general contractor. In 1979, she took the occasion of B.B. King’s “The Thrill Is Gone” to allow her backing singer to exclaim that she (and they) were “free at last.” Toward the end of her funked-up, very fun version of Sam & Dave’s “Hold On, I’m Comin’,” from the 1981 album “Love All the Hurt Away,” she tossed in some “beep-beeps” and a couple of lines from “Little Jack Horner” because she knew she could make it work.

If good soul music is like good barbecue — slow cooked, falls off the bone — by the 1980s, she’d become a pit master, yelping and barking and wailing, but also talking in songs, sermonizing. You know the char and gristle, the bits of sugar and salt and fat on, say, a perfectly done slab of ribs? Most of this woman’s songs were blackened that way. Yet if Ms. Franklin told you she was going to take a classic R&B song and throw in a little nursery rhyme, you’d be nervous. Did 1986 really need a cover of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash?” Probably not. But she did it anyway — and robustly — and threw in a “hallelujah” while she was at it.

But, by that point, Ms. Franklin seemed well on her way to becoming somebody who might have relished the culture’s doubt. She loved music too much to be vestigial or nostalgic or relegated. She wanted — you know, what she wanted. And eventually respect was tricky to come by. I, at least, remember sitting on my bed watching the 1998 Grammys and hearing that she’d be filling in for Luciano Pavarotti and rolling my eyes. Ms. Franklin knew. She went out there, sang some Puccini, and left the nation in shock.The Queen of Opera, too?

Is it possible that despite the milestones and piles of Grammys (the now-defunct female R&B vocal performance category seemed invented just for her; she won the first eight), despite famously having been crowned the greatest singer of all time in a vast Rolling Stone survey, despite being Aretha Franklin, the Greatest was also rather underrated — as a piano player, as an arranger (who had a greater imagination when it came to coloring a song with backing singers), as an album artist? Despite the world’s bereavement over her death, despite her having been less a household name and more a spiritual resident of our actual home, despite giving us soundtracks for loneliness, for lovemaking, for joy, for church, cookouts and bars, despite the induction ceremonies, medals and honorary degrees, despite her having been the only Aretha most of us have ever heard of, is it possible that we’ve taken her for granted, that in failing to make her president, a saint or her own country, we still might not have paid her enough respect? Just a little bit.

Phroyd

[obtusemedia]

Top 25 Songs of 2018: Honorable Mentions

It’s year-end list season again! And with that comes my sixth annual top 25 list.

But before we countdown the best that 2018 gave us, here’s 15 songs that just missed the cut. Like in 2017, this year had more quantity than quality when it came to singles, meaning although there were only a couple legitimate contenders for the top spot, there were plenty of solid songs that I had to give a shout out to. So apologies to great acts like boygenius, Florence+The Machine and Childish Gambino (although he easily had the best music video this year) for just missing the cut.

Let’s get into it!

“Nobody” by Mitski

There are plenty of songs about loneliness, but Mitski turns that emotion into insanity on “Nobody.” 

Her emotions ramp up and become more desperate throughout the indie-pop track, as Mitski’s pleads for companionship intensify. She wants to find love, but frankly, she also just needs human connection. And as the one-word chorus repeats into oblivion — “Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody...” the situation becomes more and more helpless.

My main issue with Mitski’s 2018 album, Be The Cowboy, was that most of the short vignette-style songs weren’t memorable. That’s not the case for the manic, disco-tinged “Nobody,” which instantly became a standout in her impressive catalog.

“Heat Wave” by Snail Mail

I’m not sure what it says about indie rock that its most hyped newcomer is mostly copying the sounds of the ‘90s, but when the tunes are as good as “Heat Wave,” I’m not going to complain.

Nineteen-year-old prodigy Lindsey Jordan, aka Snail Mail, delivers with a simple love song perfect for lazy summer days. Jordan’s vocals are charmingly warbly and mesh well with the crunchy guitars that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Pavement album. It’s catchy enough for soccer moms and with enough alt-rock nostalgia to grab any indie rocker’s ear. There’s a good reason Snail Mail’s star has shot to the top this year among the Pitchfork set.

“Me and Michael” by MGMT

IT’S THE COMEBACK OF THE CENTURY! 

That’s not even hyperbole: After they released three generation-defining classic singles, MGMT’s relevance disappeared after their 2010 album Congratulations intentionally alienated audiences (despite being pretty solid). Then, their 2013 self-titled album was straight-up bad.

But thankfully, MGMT decided to return to the synthpop jams that brought them success 11 years ago, while keeping their weirdo quirks intact. And it was a winning formula, as the bombastic single “Me and Michael” proves.

“Michael” is painfully ‘80s, from the glittery keyboards to the thundering drum machine beat. Yet, many of the instruments are off-key and frontman Andrew VanWyngarden’s hipstery vocals aren’t exactly Duran Duran-esque. And the clash of styles helps create a solid tune, the band’s best in eight years.

“Elastic” by Joey Purp

Remember how Azealia Banks used to pump out hip-house bangers like it wasn’t even hard? Then she lost her mind, and now “212″ is a relic of a better time.

Thankfully, Chicago native Joey Purp is picking up the slack, although he puts a much more minimalist spin on the sound. “Elastic” is a very simple, skeletal song, with Purp nearly mumbling over a steady, bouncing beat with couple vocal samples to liven things up. “Elastic” shows that when it comes to club bangers, you really don’t need to overthink things.

“Nameless, Faceless” by Courtney Barnett

Melbourne indie rocker Courtney Barnett’s second album, Tell Me How You Really Feel, had a noticeably more frustrated outlook than her 2015 debut. A prime example is the album’s lead single, “Nameless, Faceless,” all about the difficulties of being a woman in a world that treats them horribly.

Barnett goes after internet trolls during the song’s verses with the droll, snarky tone that made her indie-famous, but the chorus is where things take a dark turn. Paraphrasing The Handmaid’s Tale author Margaret Atwood, Barnett sings, “Men are scared that women will laugh at them ... Women are scared that men will kill them.” She then adds that she holds her keys between her fingers in-between her fingers to protect herself at night. 

It’s a fearful song for fearful times, and more proof that Barnett is one of indie rock’s best songwriters.

“Electricity” by Silk City and Dua Lipa

Producer giants Diplo and Mark Ronson teamed up to create a perfect homage to ‘90s house. It’s bouncy, effervescent, and features one of pop’s best voices: Dua Lipa. The fact that a dance jam this perfect was only barely a hit in the U.S. is a total shame.

“After The Storm” by Kali Uchis feat. Tyler, The Creator and Bootsy Collins

I’m not typically an R&B guy, but I couldn’t resist newcomer Kali Uchis’ debut Isolation this year, especially its smooth throwback single, “After The Storm.”

Uchis glides over the off-key synth backdrop, expressing post-breakup optimism with ease. The sticky melody and relaxed vibe are helped out by a blast of smooth (if off-kilter) loverman shtick from Tyler, The Creator and some fun adlibs from funk icon Bootsy Collins. But this is Uchis’ show, and she barely needs to lift a finger to hold listeners’ command.

“Please Don’t Die” by Father John Misty

After releasing an overstuffed and underwhelming album last year, Father John Misty, AKA singer-songwriter Josh Tillman, decided to keep it simple this year, and I’m back on his bandwagon.

One reason for that is how blunt and personal his songwriting is again, particularly on “Please Don’t Die.” Tillman’s concept album God’s Favorite Customer focuses on the real-life story of how his depression caused him to hide out in a hotel for two straight months, and the heartbreaking “Please Don’t Die” tackles this scenario from the singer’s wife’s point of view. 

She constantly reminds Tillman that his potential suicide won’t be a victimless crime during the soaring chorus, and he laments how his spiraling has affected her in the somber verses. There’s no snarky winks to the audience here — just Tillman nakedly depicting how his emotional chaos effected those around him.

“My My My!” by Troye Sivan

I never paid too much attention to Australian former YouTuber Troye Sivan. Now I’m regretting that choice, thanks to “My My My!”

Pure bubblegum pop doesn’t play much of a role in today’s music landscape, so it’s hard to call any version of that subgenre “modern,” but that’s honestly how I would describe this jam. It’s a slice of stuttering tropical pop with some indie and ‘80s flavor to it, and Sivan himself sells the tune like he’d been singing these types of songs for years in a boy band. I’ll be keeping tabs on Sivan from here on out.

“Light On” by Maggie Rogers

Last year, I was floored by Maggie Rogers’ unique blend of rootsy nature sounds with blue-eyed soul, particularly in her stellar single “Dog Years.” It seems like she isn’t fixing what ain’t broken, as “Light On” is a continuation of that sound.

Although it isn’t quite as transcendent as her early singles, “Light On” is still a quality power ballad, with a nice mix of acoustic guitar and organic synths, complete with a showstopping, melancholy chorus. Rogers still knows her way around a gorgeous melody, and I’m sure she’ll continue to fill her niche as the best music you’ll probably hear at REI.

“The Opener” by Camp Cope

Camp Cope have had it up to here with shitty men, and “The Opener” is a scathing indictment of the hypocrisy the trio constantly face.

Lead singer Georgia McDonald wails over a ‘90s alt-rock groove about sexism both in the dating world as well as the music industry. The latter is where she reserves her sharpest lines, going after men who’ve said her success isn’t her own doing, and being told to book smaller venues by the same guys who will “preach equality” in public. And of course, how do these men in power maintain their faux-feminist image? “‘Just get a female opener, that’ll fill the quota.’” Scathing.

“We Appreciate Power” by Grimes feat. HANA

If “We Appreciate Power,” the (as of writing this) brand-new Grimes single, was trimmed by a minute or so, it might have made the actual list. It’s a smidge on the repetitive side at its current 5:30-length.

But dear lord: This is a BANGER. As just about every critic has said, the production here is an aggro mix of Nine Inch Nails and Korn, complete with squealing guitars, a pounding, synthetic beat and some random screams thrown in the mix for fun. And yes — it works. Put it on during the next workout and see how fast you start going.

Throw in some legitimately creepy lyrics about artificial intelligence and totalitarianism and you’ve got a classic Grimes single. If only it was a bit shorter...

“Lake Erie” by Wild Pink

For a band from Brooklyn, Wild Pink are shockingly good at creating music that sounds like the sun setting on a Midwestern corn field. 

“Lake Erie” is so close to The War On Drugs’ signature sound — heartland rock mixed with whispered vocals and shoegaze-y atmospherics — that I’d call it a ripoff, if it wasn’t arguably better than anything The War On Drugs has put out in a few years. It’s emotive, gorgeous and not too pretentious, like something Bruce Springsteen could’ve released 35 years ago.

“Noid” by Yves Tumor

No, unfortunately, “Noid” isn’t about retro Domino’s ads. It’s much darker than a claymation pizza mascot.

Yves Tumor’s art-rock track is fairly normal for its first half. It even has shades of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” in the lyrics wondering about the sad state of the world. Then, things get weird: the bass starts playing in a different key, the background fills with static and screams, and Yves Tumor keeps singing along, and his lyrics about being “scared for my life” start to seem less like a protest anthem and more like a horror soundtrack. It’s a chilling experience.

“Party For One” by Carly Rae Jepsen

Queen Carly releases another pop banger and you think it’s not going on my list? Come on, now.

I’m not going to pretend like “Party For One,” Jepsen’s triumphant breakup anthem, is on the same level as her all-time classic singles. It’s the kind of bubblegum that she could write in her sleep.

But why penalize a perfectly great song just because the artist has done better in the past? “Party For One” might not be “Run Away With Me,” but it’s still a solid piece of synth cheese that no doubt makes Canada proud.

[calliecat93]

RvB16 Episode 12 Review: Docudrama

Earlier in the week, Joe confirmed that the season’s final episode count would be 15 total. This will make it the series’ shortest season, though Joe has said that the final runtime is the same as S12. My point is, we are in the final stretch my friends. So last week had some mixed responses regarding Tucker... and IDC cause Grif got n Energy Sword! WHOO!!! But now, after ten straight episodes of our heroes being separate, it’s time to bring them back together.

Overview

This episode has a rather interesting premise. You know how movies have those behind the scenes documentaries/features? Well this episode is shot as one, beginning with the actors for Wash and Carolina... having sex... while the two real ones look. Jax wanted sex appeal... though he apparently plans on making a Grimmons scene so you know what? Add all the sex appeal Jax! Also hope you all can tolerate shaky came cause haha... we get light eight straight minutes of it... be afraid people.

So Sister, Tucker, and Grif have just arrived, so at last the gang is back together! We even have Grif showing off the new sword to Simmons and them proceeding to come up with sword puns, all while Simmons is in awe. Ah I missed these two being together so much. Donut also appears to joint he party! Grif isn’t happy about this considered that... you know, Donut’s with the bad guys. But Donut apologizes for getting everyone into the mess to begin with and wants to help get them out of it. This seems to satisfy everyone for now, but... yeah don’t fall for it viewers.

Grif reveals the deal to meet with the Cosmic Powers and tries to get everyone on board with it. The Freelancers have concerns however and Sarge isn’t willing to give up the gun yet. But Grif, as well as Sister and Tucker, explain about the shield protecting them and Grif trusts Huggins enough that he thinks it’ll be safe. Carolina worries that this is a trap, while Wash is just happy to be back in the usual ‘get involved in shit with the others’ groove. Before a final decision can be made, Jax wants to know more about if time travel is a bad thing or not once Tucker explains about the time line being damaged. As such, Jax wants to interview everyone and create a timeline based off everyone’s travels in order to see if there are any true consequences to all of it.

So the interviews are conducted, where it’s implied that Sister shot JFK and Grif may have killed Ceaser. Oops. Caboose also discovered Chinese finger traps. The most interesting though is Donut talking about how Chrovous saved his life and has been nothing but respectful towards him. The Reds and Blues on the other hand, well... yeah... anyways, onto the results! Jax concludes that while the Reds and Blues have failed in fixing any past mistakes or losses, there so far haven;t been any actual consequences to their shenanigains. He would know since, as it turns out, he’s been using Sarge’s gun to do some time traveling of his own. More on that later. The unified time line... well... it’s a dock. No seriously, it is an actual drawing of a dick. Science is mean man.

With that out of the way, Grif again presses everyone to meet with the Cosmic Powers. Wash still has concerns though... namely in how this is supposed to help find Church. To say that everyone is confused would be an understatement. What Wash is refereeing to is Chuch’s message last season... which IDT he ever did get told that it was just a past recording. Carolina tries to pass it off as him fooling around and while t looks like Wash realized that he lapsed again, it very clearly troubled him. But anymore discussions bout that will have to wait as the Reds and Blues take the guns and head for the Cosmic Gods. Oh and what did Jax do during his time travel you asked? He got actors like Tommy Wiseau and The Dude form Big Lebowski and cast them as the leads. Wow... wow... oh and the studio doesn’t like it, so they cut the funding and with the Reds and Blues gone, Jax can’t fix it. So much for no consequences, haha...

The Reds and Blues arrive at what we can now refer to as Starseat, the base of the Cosmic Powers. Although Jax briefly pops in via the open portal to convince them to help get funding back. It ends when Atlus throws his weapon into Jax and knocks him back into his own time. Oh and we also learnt hat Kalirama is Atlus’ wife... and sister... did I ever mention how fucked up mythology can be?! We also find out who Golfing Guy is. So there’s been a popular theory around that he is Jenkins, who was the ‘camera man’ for Blood Gulch and was in one of the S5 alternate endings. And... it is indeed Jenkins... well Genkins to be exact. He also says that the pink one is going to steal the hammer, HMM... so once intros are done, Carolina asks to hear everything form the beginning. Atlus begins to talk... and because Joe is a jerk, the episode ends there. JERK!

Review

Lets get the annoying out of the way first. SO the documentary style? I liked it! I think Joe mentioned last year that he’d wanted to o an Office-style episode in S15, but simply didn’t have the time. This was a nice place to revisit the idea. but... Joe honey, why did there have to be shaky cam? Okay I know why. It’s documentary style, and those have plenty of shaky cam. It annoys the people watching so Joe got that down... the problem is it annoys the audience. I definitely think that he should have had maybe some int he beginning, and left it after that to make it more bearable to watch. Still credit where it’s due, he got the desired emotion out of me. I’m also kind of annoyed that Tucker is back to being his usual self after the last episode, though he is acting more like regular Tucker so I guess we’ll see what happens.

So the Reds and Blues are finally together again and let me tell you, THANK GOD. I did not realize how much I missed everyone being together until this episode. I lied that it wasn’t overplayed and everything just... went into place. Grif and Simmons joking around, Sister getting referred to by her actual name, Tucker and Wash’s little ‘hey’.s to each other, it was just nice. I also liked how they discuss the issue. There’s the irony of Grif trying to get everyone to follow the plot now, the Freelaners asking questions, the Grif SIbs and Tucker explaining what they found out. Like it’s not over the top... I mean there’s plenty of humor like Grif knowing that he was gonna have to lie to Sarge to make him cooperate. But as much as I’ve enjoyed the crazy time shenanigans, it was nice to have a more calm episode of everyone just discussing what the next step is for them. IDK why I liked just seeing everyone talking so much, but I do.

There was just a lot that I loved. Like the shipping joke in the beginning, Grif still trusting Huggins, both Donut’s return and his interview bit (that hurt...), Simmons trusting Grif’s word and siding with him over seeing the Cosmic Powers, Caboose and the finger trap, the Reds and Blues trying to give themselves epic titles, it was all just great. Even with the heavier moments like Wash having another memory lapse and Carolina still trying to hide it were nice to see... and also hurt, but still well done. Everyone was just, for the most part, happy. I missed the happy.

So time travel stuff. Honestly IDK if this is a Closed Loop anymore or not due to Jax taking actors... though tbf aside form John Wayne IDT any of them are dead in the current time. So what we can conclude with the info that we have is that with the current brand of time travel, you cannot change the past. If you got your men killed or betrayed someone? You can’t change it. You feel bad about your sex life? Can’t change it. You lose a penny? Can’t change it. Now the whole ‘pizza doesn’t exist’ thing is still a huge hole... but we COULD attest that as damage to the timeline. It’s a consequence of the time travel. As we just saw with Jax’s movie losing funding, there are consequences to making changes and we saw that with Sarge where recruiting the new Reds ultimately did nothing for him.

There’s still a lot unclear about time travel, and with three episodes left IDK how Joe is going to explain it all. Maybe he won’t and we’ll have to see if he does next season. Now it looks like we’re finally getting some exposition which I think is sorely needed at this point. My guess is we’re going to learn about how Chrovous got locked away and hopefully just why tie travel is as dangerous as it is. But there’s also Genkin’s comment about ‘the pink one steals the hammer’. It seems to hint that whatever Donut is going to do, next episode he’s going to do it. IDK where that’ll lead, but I imagine that it won’t be good for our heroes...

Final Thoughts

This is probably my shortest review so far, but even so I loved this episode. The shaky cam was annoying as Hell, but it had a lot of fun moments that makes it forgivable. Plus it was just so good to have everyone back together again after so long. We have three epsodes of S16 left to go, and honestly I have no idea what to expect at this point. All I know is that whatever happens, we’re not ready for it.

[coppermarigolds]

6 ERELOY

@mightylauren also asked for #6 with Aloy/Erend! Thank you to you both!

“Explain it to me again—why do we have to pretend to be married?”

Erend’s not particularly adept at admitting things to himself, but even he can’t deny that right now, Aloy looks about as disgruntled as he’s ever seen her. And that’s saying something. Because if there’s one thing he knows about Aloy (and he knows a lot of things about her), it’s that she doesn’t suffer fools lightly.

(Which always makes him wonder why she’s let him stay in her orbit for so long, but he’s not about to bring that up right now.)

He clears his throat, then regrets it when Aloy rips her baleful gaze from the bond-token and shoots it at him, instead. Hammer to steel, her eyes can hit just as hard and sharp as her arrows. Or her tongue.

Then the inconvenient thought of Aloy’s tongue makes him clear his throat yet again. The grooves in her forehead go deeper, darker.

“Erend,” she says, low. A warning.

“Right.” His mouth is dry, his brain is screaming at him to lick his lips, and the thought of that bond-token around Aloy’s neck is doing very uncomfortable things to his body temperature—

Focus, you lumbering oaf. Focus!

“Well, you see,” he says, “certain members of the Oseram—not me, of course, but some people—have, uh, particular beliefs about the different roles and duties assigned to different—”

Aloy sighs. “What you’re saying is, your patriarchal ealdormen will have us thrown out of Oseram territory if we’re not married.”

“Not thrown out, exactly.” Erend finally dredges up enough moisture to swallow. Fire and spit, what he wouldn’t give for a frothy, refreshing mug of ale right about now. “I mean, let’s be realistic—no one could ever throw you out of anywhere you wanted to be. At least not without an entire army of Thunderjaws or something.”

Aloy’s eyes are still narrowed, but at that she cracks a tiny smile, and Erend’s breath comes a little easier.

“But,” Erend goes on, “let’s just say things will be easier if we go in…undercover, as it were. Think of it like a battle strategy. You’re gonna weaken your opponent’s resistance before they have a chance to deploy it. Make ‘em work for you instead of against you.”

Aloy makes that little noise in the back of her throat that means she’s about to cut through a load of garbage. Erend’s grown to love that sound over the years. Less so when it’s directed at him.

“‘Opponent?’” Aloy echoes, her voice dry as the Claim after a dust storm. “Isn’t this your grandmother we’re talking about?”

“Well, yeah.” Erend shrugs. “But, you know, family. It’s complicated.”

Aloy just stares at him, eyebrow climbing higher up her forehead, and Erend sighs.

“Look, my father was a real piece of work,” he says. “And his mother…well, let’s just say we never had the best of relationships. But she’s been around a long time and she has the respect of the clan. We’ll have a lot easier time getting access to this ruin you want to explore if we’re on her good side.”

Aloy crosses her arms. “And you think pretending to be married will accomplish that.”

“It’s as good a tactic as any,” Erend says. “If my grandmother’d had her say, I would have been married off ten, twelve years ago at least. Me and Ersa both. ‘Course, Ersa always thought those traditions could go get stuffed, and she had no problem saying so. Just like you. I guess you could say there was more than one reason we left the Claim, she and I.”

A breeze picks up, cutting a swath of cool air through the sunbaked expanse of the courtyard, and Aloy tilts her head into it. The muscles in her neck strain beneath her skin, sending the spray of freckles rippling, and Erend can’t keep his eyes from drifting to the hollow of her throat. He imagines the bond-token resting there, in that glistening little space between the knobs of her collarbone.

“All right,” Aloy finally says, and Erend jerks his mind back to attention. “If you think this is the best shot at getting to that ruin without causing another war, let’s do it.”

Somehow he can’t stop his face from lighting up like one of the beacons at that Nora blessing ceremony. Even at the thought of just being fake-married to her.

“You mean it?” he blurts, then mentally kicks himself for sounding like a kid offered a sweet cake. 

Aloy gives him that look. “You know this is just temporary, right? I really need to get into that area of the Claim to find–” 

“Oh, I know, I know. Temporary only,” he assures her, pulling out his best crowd-pleasing, hold-your-fruit tone. “But…say, it’s not really that terrible of a notion, right? I mean, you could do worse. You could pretend to be married to, uh…”

He casts about in the corners of his brain for the name of some truly awful, villainous bung who hasn’t already met doom on the end of Aloy’s spear. His mind goes blank. Damn. 

He scrambles, sputters, and then his mind goes blank again because Aloy is laughing. 

“No, Erend,” she says, bringing her hand to his shoulder. “It’s not a terrible notion, and yes, I could do worse.” 

Hammer to steel, her smile shines brighter than sparks flying off the forge. He only wishes he could see it more often. 

“So I just put this around my neck, right?” she’s saying, and she slips the bond-token’s cord over her head, smoothing down the chiseled stone until it falls into place below her throat. 

Erend swallows.

“That’s right,” he says. “Looks good on you.” 

Fire and spit, his mouth is an idiot. He flaps it open to assure her he doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s not trying to tie her down, but then he realizes she’s not giving him that look like he expected.

She’s still smiling. 

“Bet yours will look good on you, too,” she says lightly. “Why don’t you put it on so we can get moving?” 

And he’s never been so glad to put on a necklace in his life. 

[chasholidays]

Bellarke with theatre actor/wardrobe-makeup crew member. Crew member goes to the actor's home every week to apply long-lasting temporary tattoos. (Thanks for doing all of these! Happy holidays!!)

In general, people don’t get into theater if they can’t deal with long hours and weird requirements. Bellamy remembers clearly the first time he was on stage, how he felt so self-conscious about saying his lines, about actually throwing himself into the role, but he loved it, and it was so easy to just do it. He can’t imagine doing anything else.

Still, sometimes things still take him by surprise.

“She needs to come to my apartment?” he asks.

“She doesn’t have to,” says Miller, with a shrug. “I just figured it would be easier for you. You don’t want to have to come down here on your day off to get a fake tattoo applied, do you?”

“I don’t really want to do anything on my day off. Where does the makeup woman live?”

“A few blocks from you. She doesn’t mind.”

“Do you actually know that or are you assuming she’d argue with you if she did?”

“Clearly you haven’t met Clarke yet. She definitely would. Look, it’s a few hours once a week, and it’s going to look awesome. I’m pretty sure you’re going to want to get it done for real after this.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want a full chest dragon tattoo. I like my chest as is.” He sighs. “This is a key part of your artistic vision?”

“Definitely.”

“And if I don’t take my shirt off and show off the tattoo the whole play falls apart?”

“Definitely.”

He doesn’t actually mind, but he considers giving Miller shit to be a vital part of his job, so he makes a show of thinking it over. “Fine, we can do the tattoo at my place. Mondays at two?”

“Yeah. Should take a couple hours. Shouldn’t be too much trouble, as long as you and Clarke don’t kill each other.”

He frowns. “You aren’t actually worried about that, are you?”

“Not that worried.” He claps Bellamy on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

*

Clarke Griffin shows up at 1:58 on Monday, and as soon as introductions are done, she’s all business, looking around his apartment with narrowed eyes.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, mild. His apartment is great, but he didn’t really clean that much or anything. He didn’t think he needed to.

“Just trying to figure out where I’ve got the best light. And you’ll be most comfortable. It’s going to be a while.”

“I heard, yeah. Sorry about—“ He waves his hand. “I assume you have better things to do.”

“And yet here we are.” She smiles. “I don’t mind. It’s my job. Thanks for hosting.”

“It’s fine.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Do you want something to eat? Drink?”

“I brought water.” Her smile is a little tight. “You don’t actually have to stress about my comfort. Just find a pillow for your stool, take off your shirt, and don’t yell at me when I rearrange your lights.”

It all sounds fair enough. “Deal.”

Between the two of them, they get his lights set up to Clarke’s approval, and he sheds his shirt while Clarke gets her stuff ready. It feels a little intimate, but he knows better than to let that feeling really take hold; theater is one of those businesses where intimacy means something different. This is work.

Weird work, but still.

“How much did Miller tell you about the process?”

“Basically nothing. Just that you’d come over once a week and do the tattoo.”

Clarke nods, more like she’s agreeing with herself than with him. “It’s pretty simple. Monday, I put down the base ink. It should last the week, as long as you don’t scrub it really hard in the shower. Water’s fine, but don’t get too crazy. I’m doing your makeup for shows, so I’ll check it then and make sure nothing needs touching up too. Monday before I show, you can wash yourself as hard as you want, but I’ve got some remover to get it off clean and reapply, so you don’t have to worry if you don’t get it all off.”

“That’s really the best way to do it? Not just touching it up again?”

“You can usually tell when that happens, yeah. It’s better to just go again from scratch. Faster, too.”

“You’re the expert. Just tell me what to do.”

“As little as possible, honestly.”

“No problem,” he says, and thinks he means it.

It’s not like he’s bad at staying still, but he is bad at doing absolutely nothing. His attention wanders, and then he’ll forget what he’s supposed to be doing and start slumping or yawning, and then he’ll feel bad, and then it’s this weird vicious cycle.

So after about fifteen minutes of application, he asks, “Is talking okay?”

“Talking?”

“I don’t have anything to focus on. I might fall asleep. I can monologue if you need to concentrate.”

She laughs. “Run lines?”

“Never hurts.”

“I can talk and work if you want an actual conversation.”

“Did you design the tattoo?”

“Yeah. I did some of the set design too. Miller and I are old friends, I always like working with him.”

“And you still call him Miller?“

"Everyone else did, so I got used to it, yeah. This might tickle,” she adds. “How did you get into acting?”

The conversation reminds him of nothing so much as small talk when he’s getting a haircut. Clarke already knows what he does, but they chat about general backgrounds, how long they’ve lived in the city, significant others, siblings. Clarke is three years younger than he is, a print artist as well as a makeup one, single, and bisexual. As Miller said, she only lives a few blocks away, and her roommate is Raven Reyes, whom Bellamy knows from other shows, even if she’s not working on this one.

“Kind of amazing we didn’t meet sooner,” Bellamy observes, and Clarke hums her agreement.

“I’ve seen some of your shows.”

That surprises him. “Yeah?”

“I live with Raven, remember? I try to see everything she works on.”

“That makes sense. I assume I’ve seen some of your makeup.”

“And set design, probably.” She pulls back, looking him over. It makes him feel only a little self conscious; he looks good without a shirt and he knows it. “Do you wax?”

“Sorry?”

“Your chest. Do you wax it, or do you not need to? I was assuming not because I definitely saw some hair there, but–”

“Yeah, no one’s ever asked me to wax my chest.”

She nods. “Cool, that makes life easier. Like I said, don’t scrub your chest hard when you shower, be kind of careful, and don’t put your shirt back on for–” She looks at her phone, thoughtful. “Give it til like 4:30? Assuming you won’t get too cold.”

“I’m probably fine, yeah.”

“Okay, then–I’ll see you opening night. Did I give you my number?”

“No.”

She pulls a business card out of her wallet and hands it over. “If you manage to fuck it up before I see you, just give me a call. But it’s pretty resilient, you should be fine.”

“Thanks.” He offers her a smile. “It looks really badass, by the way. Good job.”

She returns the expression. “Nothing but the best for Miller’s vision. See you in a few days.”

*

They don’t get much of a chance to talk when Clarke’s doing his show makeup, which isn’t really surprising; show nights are always a zoo, and especially opening week, when everything still feels half like a dress rehearsal and half like an actual tire fire. Clarke verifies that his tattoo is in good shape, gives him the rest of his makeup and wardrobe, and tells him to break a leg, and that’s about as much as his brain can process, anyway.

On Monday, she asks, “So, how did Miller pick this play?”

She’s cleaning off the old tattoo, which doesn’t hurt or anything, but is less comfortable than having the new one applied. The stuff she’s using to remove it is kind of cold and wet, and she’s having to rub to get it off, which is weird.

Miller better appreciate this.

“I don’t know, why?”

“It’s–interesting.”

Bellamy snorts. “You mean it’s fucking ridiculous.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous. You’re a singing vampire gangster. And don’t get me wrong, you’re awesome at it, but–”

“I think Miller’s trying to single-handedly make theater weird again,” he says. “It’s a limited run, local playwright–”

“It’s Murphy,” says Clarke, with the same flat tone everyone who has ever met John Murphy uses to talk about him.

“Support local artists, Clarke.”

“It’s fun,” she says. “And I’m glad it’s happening. I’m just kind of amazed he got funding.”

“Yeah, we’re all surprised about that.”

She finishes up with the tattoo removal and pulls back, eyeing him critically. “Do you mind taking a shower?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, it would be good to get the residue off. Also, I’m not trying to stare at your nipples, but they’re right there and apparently you’re cold.”

He can’t help a snort of laughter. “So, you want my nipples to stop being distracting?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, yeah.”

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be hard. Just wash my chest off?”

“And get warm, yeah.”

It feels a little weird showering with a virtual stranger in his home, but it’s just the setting that’s throwing him off. It’s not like he hasn’t done this at the gym or even the theater sometimes. And it is nice to warm up and get the weird gunk off his body.

That becomes their routine, as the show goes on. Bellamy keeps expecting them to get canceled before finishing the planned end of their run, because, as Clarke pointed out, the whole thing is fucking ridiculous, but apparently it’s the fun kind of ridiculous. People are looking for random escapism through singing vampire gangsters.

For which Bellamy is grateful, because he likes the show. He likes his co-stars, he likes the crew, he likes his role, he even likes his stupid tattoo and the way he feels he hasn’t worn a shirt in months.

Mostly, though, he really, really likes Clarke.

They end up talking a lot, once they’ve got their groove down. She reads a lot, especially comic books, which are kind of a blind spot for him, and she likes hearing about video games he’s playing and new projects he’s auditioning for.

She’s smart and funny and gorgeous, basically, and the last thing he wants is for this show to wrap and he doesn’t see her again until they happen to be working on the same thing. But they’re still coworkers, and he doesn’t want to ask her out now, when the last few weeks of the show will be awkward if she says no.

But he really, really wants to ask her out.

It’s two weeks before close, their usual Monday appointment, when Clarke observes, “That girl who came to the show last night was cute.”

“Which one? There were a lot of girls there. We’re definitely appealing to women age eighteen to thirty-five.”

She flicks his left pectoral. “Gee, I wonder why. I meant the girl who came to see you. Is that why you’re single?”

It takes Bellamy a second, because Clarke’s making it sound like he brought a date, and he doesn’t have anyone like–

He starts to laugh. “Definitely not.”

“No?”

“My little sister,” he says. “She was in town for the weekend.”

“Oh.”

“I’d offer to give you her number, but straight, not local, and taken.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t really thinking about her for myself.”

“Just me?”

There’s a pause, and then she says, “I honestly can’t believe you’re single, I’m still waiting for the catch.”

“Catch?”

“Hot, smart, talented actor with surprisingly little ego. What’s wrong with you?”

He grins. “I’m hoping nothing.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He catches her wrist on his chest and tugs a little, and she grins, moving in to settle between his legs on the stool. When he leans in, she closes the distance, and the kiss turns from soft and hesitant to hot and deep in seconds as neither of them pulls away. His hands map her back and hers drop from his chest to his waist, letting her press closer.

“I deserve a medal for not doing this sooner,” she mutters, and he laughs.

“Really? I wish you had.”

“I’m a professional, I can’t hook up with every hot shirtless actor I meet.”

“You don’t have to hook up with all of them, just me.”

“Just you,” she agrees, and kisses him again.

*

Miller’s the one to call them out the next week, and Bellamy can’t even pretend they don’t deserve it.

“I was wondering where the rest of your tattoo was,” he says, and Bellamy frowns.

“What?”

Miller pokes his side, a spot he can see, but just barely. His dragon appears to be missing a claw.

“Huh.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s it on Clarke’s arm.”

Bellamy glances over and sure enough, there’s a small wedge of black ink on Clarke’s bicep. She did sleep over for the first time last night; they’re probably lucky he only lost that.

“Guess it wasn’t so bad,” Miller says, clapping him on the back. “Having to hang out with her.”

“No,” he agrees, unable to keep a stupid smile off his face. “It’s been awesome.”