#and almost went bankrupt for real. but what can i say. i am a guy that shit happens to

[fingertipsmp3]

At least I can cling to the fact that no matter how bad things get, it’s not October 2021 anymore

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[that--fish]

《Hellfire》

Chapter 1: The Wedding

Synopsis of series: Yn gets married off to the head of the Kamisato Clan. Yn's family, Inazuma's wealthiest tycoons, were nearly on the brink of bankruptcy so they arranged a marriage with one of Inazuma's most powerful politicians to maintain their power. Would Yn be a sacrificed pawn in a bigger game or would she turn the tables?

A jug of angst and a pinch of fluff ☁️✨️

The bachelorette party wasn't as fun as I expected. But what could I have expected? Mainly relatives and my step-mother's acquaintances. Mostly everyone had passed their 50s years ago, it was as if I was visiting a retirement home. Everyone were catching up, talking about life and gossiping. But I have no life to talk about and I have no one to talk to. I'm sure father spent most of our money on this. The well decorated room, a giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling; he almost made a replica of a ballroom.

Today is the day. The day where I'm going to start my miserable life as someone's wife. Will he treat me like a servant? Will I get my freedom? It dreads me to think about it. I don't even know him, I don't even know how he looks like. Father didn't give me any pictures of him. Let's just hope he isn't too...undesirable.

My wedding dress looks stunning nonetheless. It looks like a ballgown, like of those princesses I read in fairytale books when I was younger. I know how to sew dresses, I could have just sewn one myself but father insisted not to. The dress was adorned with shiny pearl beads and flowery lace patterns. Slipping on the dress was not an easy task. The corset is tight! It's very hard to breathe in this, I'm as slim as it gets! Wait...this dress comes with heels? I thought I can wear anything I want under this. The heels are the perfect fit, but they are very high. I've never worn heels this high, I didn't have the need to. It looks like a glass slipper but with diamonds, a lot of diamonds, I wonder if these are real? One of the bridesmaids are doing my hair into a bun and another is doing my makeup. Luckily the makeup isn't as cakey as my step-mother's, given that my bridesmaids are my step-mother's friends. I suppose she has chosen a maid of honour for me, I can't tell who it is though, they all don't look too different.

The reception is starting soon. I'd better be prepared to be under the eyes of many old men. Kamisato Ayato, my soon-to-be husband. I hope the age gap isn't too big. I wonder how much money did father give to get him to marry me. We don't have much money to offer, our company is going bankrupt soon. Well, father might have played some nasty tricks, but that's not for me to know. Sigh Let's get this over with.

The reception is held in a ballroom, a fairly large one. There are murals on the walls and ceiling depicting a heaven, with angels and clouds and a clear blue sky. I requested a piece to be played when I entered, Winter. (Vivaldi Four Seasons: Winter) There is a whole orchestra playing. The piece is very dramatic, like the climax of a story. I walked down the aisle, holding father's arm. He is smiling ear to ear, I'm sure it's a fake one. I plastered a smile on my face, walking towards my fiancé.

He is more handsome than I expected. Father made a good choice for once. The person who I'm going to spend my life with, this blue-haired guy who is a head taller than me. My neck hurts from looking up. He gave me a soft grin...

Remember dear, do not trust anyone.

Mother might probably say that to me.

His lavender-blue eyes, soft features, his hair tucked back into a sleek ponytail...GIRL, GET A GRIP! He is probably way older than me. Father must have bribed him into this, just as he does for other things.

I said my vows just as how I practiced weeks ago. It went flawlessly, no stuttering.

"You may now kiss the bride"

Okay, this part - father didn't tell me about this - I didn't expect father would do me like this - I am so not ready.

He leaned in for the kiss, one hand pulled me closer by the waist, the other cupping my face. Act natural, Yn. I put my arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. Haha~ I wonder what father has to say about this. I pulled away. Such a coward. His face was barely pink, he doesn't seem fazed.

After cutting the cake, popping champagne and all, I am tired. How late is it now? Ah, I need to greet the in-laws. How do I do that exactly?

"Ah, Yn, we heard so much about you from your father. We knew that you would make a lovely wife for our son." I suppose that's his mother. She seems rather sincere with her words. "You should stay at our estate, to get you used to it."

"Yes, yes I agree. Your step-mother and I will miss you so dearly, Yn." His menacing grin could go unnoticed. Who knows what he's plotting behind my back.

Well, smile and nod, smile and nod.

The night is still young, Yn. Ugh, when will this end? I don't do social interactions and plus, it was father's idea to keep me cooped up in the estate. Was this how mother might have felt on her wedding day? I wonder what did she see in father?

"Yn, is anything the matter?" He asked. His voice... i-it's so...calming? His voice makes me feel like I'm melting in a warm embrace. I doubt father has ever talked to mother like this.

"Oh, n-nothing."

It was almost midnight, and it ended. Finally.

As everyone left, father ushered me to my husband's limousine, which I could have done very well by myself.

"Take good care of my precious Yn."

"I will, Mr Tanaka."

Father waved goodbye, dabbing away his tears. It's all just for show. The Kamisato estate isn't far from here. Now, father can't interfere with my life anymore.

I am my own person.

Freedom.

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

favorite band/artist?

Sheesh. Complicated one.

You see, my music tastes are, to put it mildly, rather varied. I think it showed in my music recommendation post and the post that further explored one of those artists, but to further illustrate, my library includes:

Earth, Wind & Fire

New Kids On The Block's Jordan Knight's first solo single

Dubstep band Hadouken!’s Lana Del Rey cover

A mashup of Wham! and a fishing anime

A Japanese bilingual melodic punk rock band's two songs about bowling

80s remixes of Justin Bieber songs

A Japanese "punk ska and melodic hardcore band"'s cover of Scatman’s World

A 140+ song Beatles remix collection, featuring such gems as "Octopus's 3D Garden", "I Saw Her Yankin' There" and "Help!" (suspicious)

A eurobeat female duo of rotating Italian and British members’ Abracadabra-sampling track about falling in love with a banana

A remix of Azumanga Daioh’s Sata Andagi scene I retrieved from a porn site reupload

Moldovan folk punk band and folk musician duo’s collab about celebrating the reopening of a railroad

The soundtrack of Pictionary for the NES

A mashup of AVICII, Rick Astley and Chumbawumba

An 80s pop Linkin Park remix

Black Sabbath covers by The Cardigans (of Lovefool fame)

JT's solo debut

A Flock Of Seagulls (of I Ran (So Far Away) fame)

One (1) DJ Khaled song

A 2011 My Little Pony-themed song by then commentary youtuber

(And I beg each and every one of the people who read this list and thought "Okay that one cannot possibly be good" to hop in my askbox and allow me to prove them wrong.)

But let's go through bands and artists I've not posted about before.

Two Door Cinema Club Just out of statistics. I can prove I played I Can Talk over a hundred times and I can tell you any number under two hundred is underselling it. There is genuinely some problem with my brain that that intro slots into perfectly.

Oh also all the rest of their first album this comes from is this great too, and if you ask me what a perfect album sounds like I will tell you it's not that far off their second album.

OK Go Now, I like the music. Actually, I'd left my two guitars alone for years until an easy OK Go song made me think "Oh, maybe I can play this" and realize that rather than -as I had prior- just play the music I'd been taught I could actually teach myself to play the music I was listening to, which snowballed into playing more OK Go songs and then it expanded and now I have a ukulele, a bass, a third guitar I need to merge with that bass (it's complicated), a fourth "guitar" (it's complicated) on the way, a Casio calculator/synth (it's complicated), a melodica, a launchpad and a kazoo. Whoops. But really, all you need to be sold on OK Go is see two of their videos. One to find out what they're like (and you're already good on that front because you have visited the internet ever and have thus seen Here It Goes Again aka "The Treadmill Video" aka what when posted to YouTube upon its CEO begging them became the biggest video of all time) and another to find out that no the first one was not a one-off fluke. I am serious, go click that link, it takes you to a playlist of their videos and each one is crazier than the last. I mean they played a song with a car. A song. That has a guitar solo. With a car. Have you seen the name of this channel.

Ah, right, the name of this channel. I guess I have to say a thing about that car now. Uhhh this video was sponsored by Chevrolet to promote the Aveo which, despite being badged as a Chevrolet, like many of the more Europe-oriented Chevrolets was made by the automotive branch of Daewoo, brand General Motors picked up after the Daewoo conglomerate (then the second largest in South-Korea which may as well be called Samsungland) went bankrupt in '99 over almost $90B modern dollars in debt. Its founder Kim Woo-chong (because Lord knows the "woo" in Daewoo did not stand for "woo what a great car") earned a ten year sentence, but I feel they focused too much on the wrong guy. The REAL criminal is whoever penned Daewoo cars.

A good person doesn't do this on purpose.

Owl City I have too few of his songs, but I absolutely love how comically upbeat he is. He is so precious. If c: walked this Earth. I mean "Golf and alcohol don't mix and that's why I don't drink and drive / Because, good grief, I'd knock out my teeth and have to kiss my smile goodbye". Protect this man at all costs. Also one time I saw the Fireflies video after what must have been a good decade and you know when you feel near crying? I adored that song when I was a kid and I was right.

Liquido European one-hit wonders - and not even "people know them just for one song", not even "people don't know them and just know the song"; I found you can tell people the name of their hit and they won't know what you're talking about. But hum the riff and infallibly, invariably any single person in my country (and, in my limited experience, the rest of Europe) will go "Ooooooh, that one". And to be fair, those guys did stumble on one of the most memorable riffs in modern history.

Not saying this is a hidden gem of a band, I am sure some bigger music nerd would stamp a big fat "SEEN BEFORE" on all their stuff, beyond some enjoyable splashes of "I wonder how much of this is them leaning into it" cheese (yes, even more than that video) - but I've still got their whole discography including all the B-sides, because to me, so what? It's good music and I'll treat it like it. What's the point of praising "groundbreaking", "genre defining" works and then glossing over those inhabiting the ground they broke and making the genres they defined? When I eat bread I don't complain that it doesn't innovate or set itself apart from the rest of the genre, so as long as my music doesn't bore me why should those be problems there? I feel like people have a problem in general separating their enjoyment of a work from its artistic merit. I'm digressing.

The Beatles If you ask me "What's your favorite number of pant legs?" I'm not going to answer five because two would be cliché.

And now we get to the final answer, the real answer, in such a league of its own it deserves to be separated from the rest via a Read More.

I lied, this is under a Read More because it's an entire fucking dissertation. Your fault for asking.

Caparezza I've spent well over a decade of my life mulling over his lyrics to the point me and my ex-flatmate played this game where she told me a random word and I'd try to find it in his lyrics (e.g. the first word of your ask, "favorite", was used in the second verse of the sixteenth track of his sixth album, yes I am neurodivergent why do you ask), and still it happens that as I am going through my everyday life I happen to accrue some information and slam my forehead going "Oh my God THAT'S what he meant there". His songs are more layered, more deep, more thoughtful, more cutting, more witty, more clever than most prose you see around and still he manages to play with his words and rhymes with incredible dexterity.

Take his last record, Exuvia - actually, take the previous record Exuvia picks up from, Prisoner 709:

Its name not only introduces the theme of imprisonment, but also of dilemmas and juxtapositions, since the prisoner's number, 709, stands for the dilemma about the number of the record: it's the 7th in his discography as Caparezza, but the 9th if one also counts the two shit records he made under his previous name Mikimix (we don't talk about those). Its tracklist, indeed, while being as typical for him incredibly varied in topics (from religions to his affinity with Ludwig II of Bavaria to "I'm not [x], BUT-" types) is arranged as chapters of a journey through an imprisonment (The Crime, The Punishment, The Weight, The Psychologist, The Letter, The Visit, The Yard Time, The Torture, The Revolt, The Guard, The Infirmary, The Window, The Evasion, The Hiding) and associated to dilemmas - for instance, as the record is about his feeling imprisoned in his body and in his role, the first song -and first chapter, The Crime- is indeed Prosopagnosia (i.e. face blindness), a track about him no longer recognizing himself in the artistic reputation he built himself, with the dilemma being between "Michele", his name, and "Caparezza", his rap name. Oh, and if you also want a taste of the impressive wordplay, well, count the letters of those two names. Yep. Every single one of the 16 tracks is a dilemma is between a 7 letter word and a 9 letter word. Because of course it is.

So now, let's get to the last record, Exuvia.

Nah, the pop-up edition's cover fucks way harder.

That's more like it.

Exuvia is the exoskeletal remains left behind by ecdysozoans after ecdysis, i.e. when creatures like insects and crustaceans develop a new exoskeleton and crawl out of their old one, as this record starts from his escaping from the anguish compounded through all his previous records and through a deep analysis of his past, his self, his surroundings, his fate, condensing it all and moving on to a new self, a new birth, a new shell. (Understand how I feel when people say the greatest rapper of all time is one whose greatest record is called "Damn" because the songs made him go "Damn" and whose biggest song is "Biggie Smalls' Juicy but this time about me".)

Well, in the second track of it, about running away from the dire situation of hatred, decay and persecution described in the first track, he says, and I paraphrase,

I give it all up, I'm dying, I retreat - Caporetto plus Waterloo Dripping and smelling like my head was in a station's toilet- oh.

introducing the desperation and hopelessness of military defeats and immediately following it up with an image whose comedic nature makes a contrast so stark as to surprise even him while still, being a reference to the military's hazing and bullying, latching back to the line before. While the prose I represent it with is deliberately poor, the concept behind the words is brilliant enough that it would be a good line if it didn't rhyme at all. And yet the original lines rhyme for twenty syllables. TWENTY.

Thing is, you can be as clever as you want, but the underlying music, you know, it can't be clever, it can just be good or bad. One would think. And yet the music is not just good but full of clever, witty samples and ideas that don't just reinforce the track's mood but tie the instrumental inextricably into the lyrics' themes, like Larsen (the track about his tinnitus, which he calls by audio feedback's technical name of Larsen effect) using high-pitched synths and emphasizing cymbals, Prisoner 709's title track being 79bpm (I wager 709bpm was a bit non-doable), House Credibility's instrumental featuring intercom buzz and cowbells reminiscent of cookware, or, well, everything in Exuvia's second single. See, that song is about the choice he faces between the story of Beethoven, who despite all his challenges kept devoting himself to music until the day he died, or that of Mark Hollis, lead of Talk Talk, who despite all the fame peaced out to focus on his private life - and the entire instrumental is devoted to that concept: the verses' reference Für Elise, the chorus Such A Shame, and the bridge I Believe In You; and when you tun into the background choirs you find they are rhythmically repeating "I don't know".

You start to get a clue why there's three years between his records.

So if his songs are so fucking good, why is he not famous? Well, he is! Except for his first album which no one really noticed (fairly so in my opinion - while I like a few songs I feel he really got going in his second one), the following records did really well for someone with such dense content: his third record has been certified gold! And all the others platinum. Some twice. Never since the first one did a record of his peak under 5 in the charts, and he's got 8 gold singles, 3 platinums and a double platinum. And don't get me started on the shows.

(That's me in the background!) Hell, he's even been on the cover of Billboard! So why've you never heard of him? Well, see the word next to Billboard.

Yep. The man, Michele Salvemini, is an Italian born and raised and, like any proper Italian, doesn't speak a whole lot of English, so pretty much all the English you'll hear in his music are the handful of English features, like Michael Franti, DMC (!) and Spandau Ballet's Tony Hadley, with which he made a song about Italy's emigration crisis.

Emigration that is also internal, from the underdeveloped, falling aparty and criminality-run south of Italy to where all the industries are, the richer and we-pretend-it's-not-criminality-run north. And since he's from Apulia, Italy's heel (his rap name in fact means "curly head" in Apulian dialect), he's made a song about its woes too, featuring the music of the tarantella, Apulia's traditional dance. (I don't know why y'all add an A in front. It's fucking "Puglia", y'all.) Here's an imperfect translation with a couple of helpful explainers to the asterisked terms over in the video's description.

It depresses me every time I think about it that all the English speakers I know will never be able to fully appreciate his lyrical brilliance. But oh well. At least y'all can appreciate the music... so fuck it, have that song whose music I yapped about so much. You'll hear the choirs in the background say "non so" (I don't know)... and a bunch more Italian words (translated here for those on desktop who want to follow along).

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

[skyeet-the-writer]

The Love Among Us

Chapter 1-- I’d Never Snitch On Daddy

so i haven’t seen many corpse husband x reader stories on here, so i decided to upload one myself. i’ve been watching jacksepticeye’s among us videos and when i heard corpse talk for the first time, i was like, “hol up” and now i’ve been obsessed with him. also, go stream his music on spotify, it’s amazing. enjoy! x. 

 corpse husband x female!reader

summary: while playing among us, y/n watches corpse kill felix in o2. when his body is reported, however, she doesn’t tell who killed him. 

 word count: ~3.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of death (not real death), mentions of murder (not real murder)

EDIT: before i wrote this and after i published it, i did not know that corpse did not like to be referred to as “daddy”. had i known this, i would have not even thought of posting this. and since i know now, i won’t refer to him as such in the future. thank you. (10/19/2020)

EDIT 2: this is the first part to my corpse x reader series. i will be adding chapters as we go!

next>

4 rounds before the incident

“I was in coms with PJ!” Sean exclaims. 

“He is doing the liar voice!” Felix shouts with a laugh. 

“I’m not,” Sean tries to say, but everyone talks over him and the voting time ends. Everyone left alive, though it was only four people, had all voted for him and he yells at them as he gets ejected. 

stinky was not the imposter

2 imposters remain

The round ends and everyone unmutes themselves. 

“Lizzie, you saw Felix kill me and you did nothing!” Roomie yells as soon as the round ends and the imposters are revealed. 

“Yeah, because I was the other imposter.”

“Oh. Okay, well that makes sense.”

Everyone laughs and Ken starts the round again. 

“Wait, can I invite y/n to play? She’s doing her twenty-four-hour stream and she just finished playing Monopoly with Mark, Bob, and Wade,” says Lizzie, looking down at her phone as they all appear back in the waiting room. 

“Yes,” Corpse blurts out and there are a few laughs and chuckles. 

“You were quick to answer, Corpse,” Sean teases. 

“Shut up,” Corpse mumbles and there are even more laughs. 

Lizzie smiles and taps into her phone. “I’m gonna invite her.”

~

“I can’t believe that you actually made that deal, y/n,” Wade is telling you after ending the second round of Monopoly that you’ve played with them. 

You smile and cross your legs on your chair. “Look, I was going bankrupt and it seemed good at the time. Besides, Mark was going to win anyway, he owned half of the board.” Your phone buzzes beside you on your desk and you pick it up. “Lizzie texted me.” There’s a sound effect that plays in your headset and you look up at your screen and smile. “Thanks to _lorieplays _for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot. Thank you so much.”

“Do you want to play another round?” Marks asks. 

You shake your head, reading the text from your friend in England. “No, I don’t want to lose to you again.” You laugh. “Nah, Lizzie wants me to play Among Us with her and a few others. It was fun playing with you guys.”

“It was even though you took all of my money,” Bob snaps. 

You laugh. “Yeah, yeah. See you guys later.”

“Bye,” says Mark.

“See y--” Wade begins but you cut him off when you disconnect from the call. 

“Oops.” You put a hand over your mouth and laugh. “Sorry, Wade. Okay.” You straighten up and glance over everything, making sure it’s all working properly. “I have to pee and I think my roommate ordered pizza, so we’ll be back after this short break. Enjoy this live feed of my pet rats.” You giggle and switch the stream over to a view of your two rats in their cage where you have a camera set up. You take your headset off and head out of your recording room. 

Every two months, you have a twenty-four-hour livestream where you play games with your friends from all around the world. Despite being only twenty-five, your Youtube channel had grown exponentially in the past three years and you’ve had the chance to meet lots of other Youtubers like Markiplier, PewDiePie, and your close friend, LDShadowLady. 

Currently, you’re on hour twenty of twenty-four and you’re beginning to feel the effects of not sleeping for a whole day. You had been drinking coffee and energy drinks for the past four hours and that seemed to perk you up for two hours max. But your roommate had ordered pizza and that would hopefully wake you up. 

After going to the bathroom and grabbing an entire box of pizza, you return to your recording room and sit down. You put your headset back on and eat a slice of pizza before switching the views back to you. “And we’re back. I hope you guys enjoyed my rats because I don’t. They keep me up at night.”

You read a comment while loading up Among Us and laugh. “No, they’re not dead. They’re sleeping. They do that a lot when they’re not fighting.” 

When you finally get into the game and entire the code, you spawn in. You also quickly join the Discord chat and wince when nearly ten voices hit you at once. 

“y/n!” exclaims Lizzie and the other voices die down for a moment before rising to greet you. 

You wince again but laugh. “Jesus, you guys are loud. Hey, Lizzie.” You move your character to the customize tab and go to try and switch your color. But then you frown and realize that you’re stuck with being dark blue. “Damn, I wanted to be white.”

“Do you want to switch?” Corpse asks. 

Your eyes widen you your stomach flips. You hadn’t noticed Corpse was in this game. Immediately, your chat became flooded with keyboard smashing and lots of “omg my shipp” and “y/n rlly said ‘anna oop-’” 

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind,” you manage to stutter out and take a bite of pizza as Corpse’s player comes over and the white option becomes available. You select it and also select the goggles in the hats menu. 

“How’s your stream going?” asks Sean. 

You shrug. “Pretty good. I’m super tired, though. I literally almost fell asleep while playing Monopoly with Mark, Wade, and Bob.”

“You went to college, right?” You’re pretty sure that’s Roomie. 

“Yep,” you affirm with a nod even though they can’t see you. “You’d think that those all-nighters writing papers and studying for finals would make me able to do this.”

There’s a laugh in the group and the round starts.

3 rounds before the incident

You scratch your eyebrow and sigh in relief when you’re the crewmate. You mute yourself and slide up in your chair. 

“I like being the crewmate,” you say, heading towards admin as a habit. “It’s a lot less stressful than being imposter.”

After doing your tasks in admin and fueling the engines, you stumble across a dead body in the lower engine and a vent closing. 

“Oh,” you say, and press the report button. You unmute yourself and begin with, “So I saw a vent close but I didn’t see who went in.”

“Who died?” asks Lizzie. 

“Felix,” says Sean. 

You smirk. “It’s always yellow that dies first.”

“Where was the body?” Ken asks. 

“Lower engine,” you reply. 

“I was in medbay with Corpse doing the scan so it wasn’t him,” PJ says and Corpse makes a noise of confirmation. 

This makes your cheeks heat up and you smack a hand over your mouth. Your chat explodes again but you decide to ignore it. 

“And I was doing wires in cafeteria,” Lizzie says. 

“Sean, where were you?” 

“I was in reactor doing the simon says thing,” he answers. 

You sigh. “I hate that one. What about you, Ken?”

“I was with Roomie in electrical doing the power thing. You know, the one where you have to divert it somewhere else.”

“So do we skip then?” asks Lizzie. 

“No one is super sus, so I’m going to skip,” you answer. 

When no one is ejected, you mute yourself again. “I dunno why, but Sean seems pretty sus. Because I didn’t see him on the way down from upper engine. But I guess he could have gotten there in time.” You shrug and run over to the trash chute in the cafeteria. “RIP to Felix, though.”

After doing the trash there, you head down to storage, running into Corpse doing the wires in there. You wait there to clear him and once you do, you run a few circles around him to get his attention and he follows you over to the trash in storage and watches you do that. After that, the two of you head over to electric together and do wires there. 

Suddenly, there’s a body reported and you unmute yourself. 

“Sean just killed Lizzie in front of me!” exclaims PJ. 

“PJ killed Lizzie,” Sean retorts, flipping the blame. “I watched it, he didn’t realize I was there and murdered her.”

“I watched PJ do the scan in medbay, he’s cleared,” Corpse says and you find yourself smiling for no reason. “Sean, you killed Lizzie.”

“I knew he was sus,” you say, grabbing another piece of pizza. You look at the box and your eyes widen. Had you really already eaten half of it?

“Wait wait, how am I sus?” Sean asks. 

You take a moment to swallow. “Because when I was doing fuel earlier, I was running down from upper engine and didn’t see you in reactor. Sure, maybe you could have gotten there earlier, but it was super weird.” 

The discussion time ends and PJ immediately goes to vote for Sean as well as you, Corpse, and everyone else still alive. Sean ends up getting ejected. 

stinky was an imposter 

1 imposter remains

“You’re such a detective, y/n,” Sean says when he gets ejected. 

You laugh. “I just play this game too much.” You then mute yourself and smile. “I am a genius.” 

You end up finishing your tasks quickly after that and then stand in the cafeteria and eat another piece of pizza and read some of the chat. 

“’ What am I going to do after this?’ I don’t know. I might play some Minecraft. Should I have a poll on Twitter? I’m stuck between public Among Us games, Minecraft, and taking random quizzes on Buzzfeed.” You smile and hear another sound effect and something pops up on the screen. “Thank you to coochie man for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot.” You laugh at their name. “I love your name, by the way.” 

There’s some rattling in the cage behind you and you turn around to see one of your rats drinking water. You turn back to the chat and read another comment. “’ Do you have a crush on Corpse?’” You blush and smile, biting your lip. “I mean, his voice is hot. I’ve never met him since he lives in San Diego and I live in h/t, but yeah, I guess I do. I’ve been listening to his music for the past few days and it’s really good, you guys should go check it out.”

You look up and unmute yourself when a body is reported. “Who died?” you ask. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you already done with your tasks, y/n?” Corpse asks. 

God, even the way he says your name is making you blush. “Yeah, I get them done quick.”

“She does that,” says Lizzie, “She always gets her tasks done quick.”

“Ken is dead by the way,” says Roomie and your snort, smacking a hand over your mouth. “I found him in the hallway by navigation. Where was everyone else?”

“I was in cafeteria doing nothing,” you say, leaning back in your chair and spinning around just a little. “I think I saw PJ downloading while I was in there, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, I was downloading,” says Ken. 

After more discussion, Corpse points out that Jaiden had been following him and it looked like she had been faking tasks. 

“No I haven’t,” she says. 

“That sounds like something the imposter would say,” you hum with a smirk. “That’s pretty sus, Jaiden.”

Everyone else agrees and you all end up voting Jaiden out. 

jaiden was the imposter

0 imposters remain

You cheer as the round ends and a blue victory screen pops up for the crewmates. “Good game, guys,” you say and play again, waiting for the host. 

~

1 round before the incident 

“Oh my god, I’m imposter again?” you groan and sigh when you spawn back in. “I was just imposter, I don’t want to be it again. I’m so bad at it,”

After another short round of you and Felix losing to the crewmates, you all agreed to play two more rounds before Sean had to leave. So you move your character to admin where PJ is and fake the card swipe before moving over to the admin security thing where you could see who was around where. Luckily, no one appeared to be near admin, so you quickly kill PJ and escape through the vent and come out through medbay. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper over and over, running down to storage. “That was clean.” You fake getting fuel and go back up to the upper engine. 

When PJ’s body is reported, you see that your fellow imposter, Sean, had reported it. You stay silent for most of the round and only say that you were in the fuel area when it was reported. 

“Yeah, I saw her run past electrical earlier,” Corpse says. You blush and glance at your exploding chat and shake your head. 

After everyone skips the round, you mute yourself once more and head towards navigation. “I hate this.” You drag the last syllable and watch Lizzie enter the room. You wait a moment before walking towards her and killing her, jumping into one of the vents. You let out a sigh and flex your fingers. “I’m so stressed.” You exit out of the vent into shields and your heart stops when you see someone else in there but you realize that it’s the other imposter, Sean, and you relax. 

You run past him and go to the trash compartments and pretend to unload those. And that’s how the rest of the round goes. You kill someone, someone reports it and you vote someone off. Eventually, you and Sean do a double kill and end up winning the round.

You unmute yourself. 

“Let’s go!” Sean exclaims and you smile. 

“I can’t believe you killed me, y/n!” shouts Lizzie. “I thought we were friends.”

You laugh. “There are no friends in this game. I’m not loyal to anyone in this game. You could be my best friend and I would fucking murder you.”

“That’s cold,” says Roomie as everyone else spawns back in. 

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“Wait, PJ disconnected,” says Sean, and you all end up waiting for him to rejoin. 

In that time, you look at your chat and say, “Hey, do you guys have any questions for who I’m playing with. I’m asking you, chat.”

“I swear if someone asks about my hands, I’m leaving,” Corpse says and everyone laughs. 

You laugh louder when you read a comment and read it aloud, “_Ironlady _says that you should be a hand model, Corpse.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you hear Corpse say over everyone laughing. 

“No, stay!” you exclaim, trying not to laugh. “C’mon, don’t leave.”

He sighs deeply and your brain goes fuzzy. “Fine. I’ll stay for you.”

You beam and your tummy turns. You ignore the whistles and remarks from everyone else and stand beside Corpse. You suddenly wish that the little bean characters could hold hands. 

When PJ joins the server again, Ken starts the round and you cross your fingers, hoping to get crewmate. 

0 rounds before the incident

You mute yourself and sigh when you’re a crewmate. “Thank god.” You let out a breath and go over to admin with everyone else. You swipe your card and go to the cafeteria to do some wires there. 

The game turns out to be rather uneventful. A few people die and two people are voted off before the game gets truly interesting. And that happens when you walk in on Corpse and Felix. 

“I’ve had this song stuck in my head for days,” you’re saying, walking from electrical over to O2. “And I can’t get it out of my head. Maybe singing it will help.” You hum the first part. “Don't go in there, you'll become one. Freaky creatures, monster party. Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers, tails in tethers. Turn the lights off. Bend the nightmare, you control it. Artful dodger, easy does it. Shut the closet, get under the covers. Snakes and lovers. Turn the lights off.” You do a little dance for a moment and continue hum the song, glancing at the chat as you go towards O2 after doing wires in storage. 

“Like, I know the song, it’s just been stuck in my head,” you explain. “And it kind of annoys me--”

But you stop as you enter O2 and watch Corpse murder Felix. Neither one of you move and you don’t know what to do. “Uhhh.” 

Then, without thinking, you turn straight around and make your way away from the scene of the murder. “I didn’t see anything!” you shout to no one. “I suddenly can’t see who murdered Felix.” You smack a hand over your mouth and stand in the middle of a hallway. “Oh my god, what do I do? I don’t want to snitch on Corpse, he’s hot.” You scratch the back of your neck and shrug, continuing on to reactor. “I didn’t see anything.”

You’re in the middle of doing the simon says in reactor when Felix’s body is reported. You unmute yourself and fidget with the sleeve of your hoodie. You know exactly who killed Felix. 

“--was in O2,” says Jaiden and you focus back into the conversation. “And I didn’t see anyone around.”

“I saw you heading that way, y/n, but I know it wasn’t you because I saw you do the trash in storage.”

You look at the screen when Sean talks to you and you chew your lip. “I know who killed Felix.”

“Who?” asks almost everyone at the same time. 

You close your eyes and swallow. It’s just a game, why are you taking this so seriously? Suddenly, a song lyric pops into your head and your stomach flips. You imagine yourself saying it and no one knows who you mean except for him. 

You open your eyes. “I’d never snitch on daddy.”

There’s a laugh in the chat and you blush fiercely, your livestream chat blowing up once again.

“I think we know who it is, then,” says Sean, laughing. 

“Yeah,” agrees Lizzie and your eyes widen. 

“Wait, what?” you ask, watching everyone vote almost as soon as the discussion time ends. “Wait, hang on, who--”

“We know who you’re talking about, y/n,” PJ tells you. 

You vote for yourself and your brain goes blank as you see that everyone voted for Corpse. He even voted for himself. They knew. They all _knew _about your feelings for Corpse. 

The round ends with Corpse being voted out and the crewmates win. There’s some talking, but you stay on the victory screen. You’re trying to decide if your mad or embarrassed or both. 

“I didn’t know you’d say that, y/n,” Corpse says, effectively breaking you out of your trance. “I thought you were gonna snitch on me.”

“You heard her,” teases Lizzie and you can tell she’s grinning. “She’d never snitch on you, Corpse.”

He laughs and you feel something in a certain place. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die of embarrassment.” You put your face in your hands, listening to your friends tease you in the chat. You suddenly want to jump out your window and run into traffic. 

“Don’t die,” comes Corpse’s voice through the onslaught of teasing. “I’ll be sad.”

“Fuck!” you shout and slam your hand on your desk, shaking your equipment and scaring your rats. “I’m so sorry, Corpse, that was really weird, I--”

“Stop.” He interrupts you and the chat goes silent and you look up at the screen even though you can’t see him. “It’s okay. It was funny.”

Your eyes widen and then narrow. Funny? He thought what you said was funny? How could he think it was funny?

But then he speaks again and he sounds oddly flustered. “Uh, I gotta go. Um, it was fun playing with you guys. Bye, y/n.”

“Bye Cor--” but then he disconnects and you’re left talking to no one. “--pse.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Felix breaks it. “I can’t believe you just watched me die and didn’t do anything about it.”

There are some laughs and you smile faintly, rejoining the game. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“Are you okay, y/n?” asks Lizzie. 

You blush and swallow. “I don’t know. God, I’m so weird.” You run a hand through your hair and adjust your headphones

“No, you’re not,” Roomie assures you. “He has a crush on you, too.”

Your eyes widen and you scoot up in your chair. “He does?”

“I mean, he called you pretty once during a game and said that he watches your videos a lot, so maybe.”

You groan and sink in your chair. “I’m gonna go, I need to run into traffic now.”

A few people laugh or chuckle and Lizzie asks you if you’re actually going to leave. 

“Yeah,” you tell her. “But not to run into traffic. I’m going to go play Minecraft to soothe myself.”

“Aw.” You can practically hear her frown. “Okay. Bye, y/n.”

“Good luck with your stream,” Ken tells you. 

You grin. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

When you exit the game and leave the chat, you scream. You actually scream and it’s loud. Your roommate even knocks on your door, asking if you’re okay. 

You look at them and nod. “Yeah, totally fine. Probably about to have a mental breakdown, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” they say and lean on the doorframe. “But I’m not cutting bangs for you again.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, okay, fine.” They leave and you turn back to your stream, feeling like you’re about to cry. Corpse knows you have a crush on him. And it seems like he has one on you as well, but now you’re embarrassed because you called him ‘daddy’ on stream.

You rub your eyes. “Well, now I know what’ll be streaming on Twitter tonight,” you tell the chat. 

[bi-bard]

Please Say That You're Joking (Pt.1) - Chuck Shurley Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Please Say You're Joking (Pt. 1) [You can read part 2 by clicking here!]

Pairing: Chuck Shurley X Winchester!Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): mentions of sex, threats of violence

Summary: (Season 4; Season 11) (Y/n) had a single one-night stand while coping with loss in a not healthy way... if only they had a clue about the weight of their actions.

Author's Note: I was recently going back through some of the "lighter" episodes of Supernatural because I wanted to watch something I could chuckle at. That's where this came from.

This might be the most crackheaded thing I've written in a while.

Also, the amount of things I had to bullshit my way through this is actually ridiculous.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

-------------------------------------

Sam, Dean, and I walked into the motel room. We were all confused and slightly scared.

We had gone to a comic book shop to do some work on a case. However, we were then called fans.

Fans of what?

Well, fans of a series of books about our lives.

I was the middle Winchester child. Two years younger than Dean, two years older than Sam. I was beyond confused when I saw some weird, romanticized version of me on the cover of a book.

"This is so weird," I mumbled, plopping onto one of the beds in the room.

Sam jumped onto his laptop and started researching. Dean was holding one of the books, reading through it. I didn't even want to touch it.

"I don't like how he describes (Y/n)," Dean commented. "It's weird. It's like he's in love. Listen to this..."

Dean dramatically clears his throat and starts to read in an even more dramatic voice, "'Even after a hard hunt, (Y/n) could easily be seen as the most beautiful of the siblings. They mimicked the beauty of their mother more than their brothers. There's no bruise or cut that could take the loveliness away from the natural curves of (Y/n)'s face. If only they could see how everyone else would stare-"

"Okay, ew," I muttered, walking to the table. "What'd you find?"

"Well, it seems like Carver Edlund is a pen name," Sam shrugged. "And the fans are intense."

"As in," Dean asked, closing the book and joining the two of us at the table.

"Well," Sam handed me the laptop so Dean and I could look at it, "there's fanfiction. About all of us."

"What's this, 'Sam/Dean'," I asked.

"It's... me and Dean... together."

"They just don't care that we're related," Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"God, this is so weird."

"So, how do we find this guy," I asked.

--time skip--

We managed to find the publisher of the novels and found her house.

"So, you published the 'Supernatural' books," I asked as we walked in.

"Yep," she nodded. "Yeah, gosh. These books... they never really got the attention that they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

"Could not agree with you more," I said. "We're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we can start publishing again," she replied excitedly.

"No, no, no," Dean immediately shut her down. "I mean, why... why would you want to do that? It's such a complete series with Dean going to hell and all."

"Oh my god, that was one of my favorite ones," she rambled. "Dean was so strong and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean... the best ones are when they cry... like in 'Heart' when Sam had to kill Madison; the first woman since Jessica he'd really loved. When Dean had to call John in 'Home' and ask him for help. Or when (Y/n) went back to the motel room after getting kidnapped and just had to sit in their own head and had to truly process not only the death of their mother but now their father. The mixed feelings were amazing."

"You're a really big fan," I noted. She nodded.

"Gosh, if only real men were that open about their emotions."

"Real men," Dean asked.

"I mean, no offense," she replied. "How often do you cry like that?"

"Well, right now I'm crying on the inside," he muttered.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

"How am I supposed to know this is legit?"

"Oh, trust me," Dean mumbled. "We're legit."

"Well, I don't want some smart-ass article making fun of my boys," she snapped as she sat in her chair.

"Oh, never," I replied quickly. "We actually are big fans."

"You read the books?"

"Cover to cover," I promised.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Dean smiled proudly.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... Sam's birthday," Sam replied.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?"

"Umm... 174," Sam said nervously.

"(Y/n)'s first hunt?"

"Vampire in Washington," I answered. "Dean was at the motel sick and (Y/n) almost chopped John's head off when he scared them."

"(Y/n)'s favorite memory that's not related to hunting?"

I smiled, "Helping Sam get ready for a date when he was a teenager because Sam didn't trust what Dean had told him."

"Dean's favorite song?"

"It's a tie," Dean replied. "Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'"

She finally laughed and smiled again, "Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name," Sam asked.

"Oh, no. I can't," she shook her head.

"We just wanna talk to him," Sam continued. "You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words."

"He's very private," she shrugged. "Like Salinger."

"Please," Sam tried again. "Like I said, we're um... big fans."

Sam unbuttoned his shirt enough to show his anti-possession tattoo. Dean pulled his shirt to the side to do the same. I rolled my eyes and yanked the arm of my jacket down and pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt. I don't wear as many layers as them and I had opted to put the tattoo on my upper arm because I thought it looked nicer.

"Awesome," the lady mumbled before standing up. "Y'know what?"

I looked away as she pulled her pants down.

"I got one too."

"Wow, you are a fan," I slapped Dean's arm. The lady fixed her clothing before grabbing a pen and paper.

"Okay," she said. "His name's Chuck Shurley-"

And I stopped listening after that. I knew that name... why did I know that name... oh... oh no. I'm gonna kill him. We're going to meet this man and I am going to end up killing him.

I followed Sam and Dean as they started walking out of the woman's house.

"Excuse me," she called as we reached the door. We looked back at her. "I'm sorry, but you look exactly like how I picture (Y/n) when I read the books."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

"He describes (Y/n) with so much detail," she smiled. "You could play them in a movie."

"Thank you," I waved as we walked out.

"'You could play them in a movie,'" Dean teased.

"I know who Chuck is," I said, ignoring him.

"What," he asked. I nodded. "How?"

I pointed to get into the car. I got in the back seat and Sam and Dean sat upfront. Dean started driving to the address the lady gave us before I started speaking.

"Okay, when you went to hell, Sam's not the only one who ran off," I explained. "I wasn't gone for four months... just two weeks. In those two weeks, I got involved in a single one-night stand. The name he gave me was Chuck Shurley."

"You screwed the man who wrote books about us," Dean asked, sounding angry.

"Do you think I knew he was writing books based on our lives?"

"He had to have known who you are," Sam added. "This isn't an accident. He has to get visions or something."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "He made money off of my name and then screwed me."

"Damn," Dean mumbled. "I missed a hell of a lot."

I rolled my eyes.

--time skip--

I knocked on the door loudly. Sam grabbed my arm, shaking his head at me. The door was opened and I smiled obnoxiously as Chuck. He was in a robe, his boxers, and an old white shirt. He looked tired and like he hadn't had a goodnight's sleep in days.

"Chuck Shurley," Dean asked.

"Chuck Shurley that wrote the Supernatural books," Sam added.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "This is Sam... Dean... and I'm (Y/n)... the ones you've written books about."

Chuck sighed and went to shut the door. I stepped in, stopping it with my foot.

"Listen, I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do and I remember you," he motioned at me, awkwardly grinning before seeming to shake the memories out of his head. I almost slapped him right then. "But please... go get a life."

"You see," Dean followed me, helping to force our way inside. Sam made sure the door shut behind us. "We have a life... and you're selling books about it."

"Okay, this isn't funny," Chuck mumbled.

"You're right," I said. "We just wanna know how you're doing it?"

"I'm just a writer, I'm not doing anything."

"Then why do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"No, it's not," I shook my head. "Believe me, we're not fans."

"What do you want then," he asked.

"I'm Sam... and that's Dean and (Y/n)," Sam tried again.

"Those are fictional characters," Chuck yelled. "They aren't real!"

Dean grabbed him and pulled him outside.

"Wait, wait-"

"We aren't kidnapping you, calm down," I rolled my eyes. Dean opened the hidden compartment in the impala's trunk.

"Are those real guns?"

"Yes," I nodded. "And real rock salt, real fake IDs."

Chuck let out a laugh at it, "Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number-one fans. That... That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some poster in the house."

"Chuck, stop," I rolled my eyes, grabbing his arm as he went to walk away.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged.

"How much do you know," Sam asked. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Have you not been listening," I asked. "The real question is how do you?"

"Because I wrote it," he explained.

"You kept writing?"

"The books never came out because the publisher went bankrupt," he furrowed his eyebrows.

I stepped back, letting go of his arms.

"Okay, wait a minute," Chuck crossed his arms. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did Phil put you up to this?"

"Oh my god," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. I grabbed his robe. "I'm sorry but I'm really tired. Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n) Winchester, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. You wrote and published books about us, probably knew who I was, and then you still slept with me."

He stared at me in shock.

"What," I asked.

"The last names were never in the books," he mumbled. "I never told anyone about that. I never even wrote that down."

"Then I guess we have a lot to talk about," I let go of his robe.

The three of us followed him inside.

--time skip--

"I got a visit from Cas," Dean explained as he walked in. "I've some important information."

After talking to Chuck and getting a draft of what was supposed to happen, we were all panicking. Dean told us to wait here. Lilith was going to come for Sam and we both thought it'd be harder if there was more than one of us here at all times.

Now, Dean was coming back from seeing Chuck.

"And that important information is...," Sam trailed off.

"He's a prophet of the lord," Dean said, smirking at me.

I shut my eyes, letting my head fall forward.

"Please say you're joking," I mumbled.

"Nope," Dean replied.

Sam looked over at me. He only started chuckling after his brother broke.

Dean was laughing his head off within seconds, "You screwed a prophet!"

"Shut up," I groaned. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Archangel will kill you."

"I'll happily pay that price," I muttered. "I slept with a prophet."

"At least that means he didn't write himself to sleep with you," Sam tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, God just decided I was supposed to sleep with the guy publishing books about my life," I replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Come on, it could be worst-"

"Sam, love you, but don't finish that sentence if you even kind of value your life," I muttered.

I was desperate for this conversation to just end.

--time skip--

After all was said and done, and Chuck accidentally helped us chase Lilith away for a while, we gave Chuck a lift back to his place.

I followed him up to his door, offering to look around and make sure that he's safe. He shook his head.

"I have an archangel protecting me," he reminded me. "Can't get any safer than that."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said. "About us. I didn't recognize you until after... it all... and I didn't say anything because I didn't really know how to explain it. The whole event makes me feel all scummy."

"It's alright," I replied with a chuckle. "It's fine, I promise."

He offered me a nervous smile, "Y'know, in all of my visions, you're the most vivid thing."

With a grin, I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. I stepped back and headed back toward the impala. I made sure to take note of his nervous and flustered face.

"See you around, Chuck!"

"You... You too," he called after me. I got in the backseat and got comfortable.

"So... screwing the prophet wasn't that bad," Dean asked.

I just rolled my eyes, waving through the window at Chuck as Dean pulled away from the curb. Leave it to a Winchester to end up in a situation like that.

--time skip (season 11)--

Sam and I followed Dean with our guns ready. Dean was following the amulet that he had owned for a long time without even knowing it could show us where God was.

Everyone had been infected by Amara only minutes ago but now it was okay and Dean's amulet was glowing.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, seeing who was walking over to us.

Chuck.

He was supposed to be dead. That's why Kevin's prophet powers had been activated.

"No way," Dean said.

"Hey," Chuck... or God said. "We need to talk."

Despite our understandable hesitation, Chuck reached forward, teleporting all of us back to the bunker. I stepped away from him, slightly overwhelmed.

"(Y/n)," Chuck walked over and tried to grab my arm. I instinctually slapped him. I was nothing but confusion and anger. "I deserved that. Just, please?"

I stepped away again.

From behind Chuck stepped Kevin's ghost. My breath caught in my throat. The poor boy had been through so much shit because of us.

Kevin told us about how we looked stressed and that we should listen to Chuck.

Then, Chuck waved his hand. Kevin turned into a ball of white and blue light before ascending beyond the bunker.

"Where'd he go," I asked.

"Heaven, where he deserves," Chuck promised. I nodded.

I listened to the rant about how Chuck had abandoned us all and how awful things were. Then, the conversation turned to the plan to stop Amara. The boys talked about needing Lucifer and Chuck got incredibly upset. In a fit, he went to leave. I stepped in front of him.

"No," I said bluntly. "Even if you want to avoid the subject of your estranged son, you can't just leave."

"(Y/n)-"

"Sam, Dean," I looked at them. "Give us a minute?"

They both nodded, glaring at Chuck on their way out. I tried to ignore the instincts that were telling me that Chuck was just selfish.

"(Y/n)," Chuck mumbled.

"Just answer my questions," I said. "Then we can discuss what to do with Amara without you storming away recklessly. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Have you been God the whole time," I asked.

He nodded.

"You wrote all of our stories?"

Another nod.

"Did you write that I was going to sleep with you?"

I felt manipulated and angry. I was desperate for an answer. I knew that this could've made me feel like dirt, but I needed to know.

"No," Chuck said. I clenched my jaw, ready to call him a liar. "I told you. I had been pretty much hands-off for a long time. Did I know who were? Absolutely. I'm sorry I lied to you about that. But I didn't plan anything between us. We weren't some divine plan."

I nodded, looking down.

"You know how Dean and Amara are connected," he asked. I nodded, looking back at him. "We're like them."

"And that's not a divine plan-"

"I'm not doing a good job explaining this," Chuck shook his head. "It feels like we're like them. Like there's this bond that just happened as soon as we met."

"You lied to me, for years," I said. "Saying we have some bond isn't gonna fix that."

"I know."

We both fell silent. Slowly, I started laughing. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows, "My only one-night stand... and it was God."

Chuck started laughing with me while I really processed what I had done.

I slowly stopped laughing.

I didn't notice until it was too late that Chuck had slowly gotten closer to me. As soon as his lips brushed mine, I pushed him back. Not hard, but enough to get him to step away.

"No," I mumbled. "Not that, no."

Chuck nodded, "Got it."

"Now," I sighed, "we need to actually plan to stop Amara, and if we need Luci-"

"We don't," he said bluntly. "We can do something else. We don't need him. Okay?"

I nodded. In my gut, I trusted him. Maybe that was me being an idiot but I did trust him. For now at least.

-------------------------------------

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[iamyoursinblog]

I SAW AN ANGEL

Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: SMUT

Word Count: 4,3 k

LIST

_________________________

You were sitting at the bar and you could feel a scorching look on your back. You knew exactly who it was.

As soon as you walked into the club, you immediately noticed a group of guys at the back table by the wall. There were seven of them. But you saw only one pair of eyes captured you and didn't take your eyes off you for a second while you walked to the bar. You haven't seen people as beautiful as them in a while. Judging by the way some girls reacted to them, they were most likely celebrities. No wonder. It's like they're came off the cover of fashion magazines. You sat your back to them, you didn't come to the club to take a guy out for the night or meet someone. You weren't interested dating. You loved to enjoy the atmosphere of the club. It was your way of de-stressing. You always chose a place at the end of the bar, where the light was as dim as possible and the music wasn't too loud.

"Like always?" you heard a familiar voice as you looked at the dance floor. A bright smile greeted you when you turned your head to the bar. Because you used to come often, you knew almost every bartender at this club.

"Hi. Yes, please," you smiled back.

"How are you doing? Although judging by your outfit, not very good."

"When my mood doesn't good my outfit different from the usual outfit choice?"

"Oh yes! Definitely! It becomes more explicit, but not so much that you are mistaken for a whore. And the glance turns too imperious, especially for someone who is not interested in dating" he described you gesticulating with a bar spoon, like a conductor's stick.

It made you laugh out loud, "Thanks to you, my mood is always great."

He put a cocktail in front of you " Poor guys go bankrupt on days like this buying you a drink trying to get at least a minute of your attention. You urgently need to date someone!"

"Thank you, but I'm fine. And by the way, you're welcome, that I'm raising your sales"

"Okay, okay... Thank you so much, it's so kind from your side." he smiled. "By the way you know them" he nodded toward the table with the handsome guys. "I heard they're a famous boyband from South Korea. Some girls went crazy when they showed up. What's there to say about girls, even if I'm almost fall in love in them. They looks like a million dollars. I'm so jealous!" he said.

You turned your head towards their table and looked at each of them. They were consumed by conversation among themselves. Or rather, almost everyone was absorbed in the conversation. One pair of eyes that was still looking at you belonged to an insanely handsome guy. He leaned back on the sofa, holding a glass of wine, the stem of which balanced on his thin fingers. You didn't look away and look at his face. How can someone be so beautiful. Apparently they had no end from the fangirls. He take a sip of wine, which made his lips redder. Tilting your head slightly to his side, you gave him the last evaluating look, swiping from his shoes to the tips of his hair, which were perfectly stacked. He didn't seem like a real person. You chuckled at the thought before you came back to face the bar.

"Already fell in love with someone?"

"Isn't that for what angels are made, that people to love them? People like to admire them, but they'll never look in your direction. Why waste time on someone who doesn't even look in the direction of the ordinary human like me." You smiled, taking a sip.

"It seems someone is looking in your direction" he winked at you before going to those guys who called him.

Turning to the dance floor you again met the look of an angel. You were wearing a deep green homecoming chiffon mini dress with bare back. When you crossing legs, the end of your dress just a little bit moved up, showing your hips before you fixed it. From this movement his eyes darkened. He set his glass on the table before leaned his elbows on his knees. A familiar guard came up to you, you licked your lips before smiling with a lascivious smile, before bit your lower lip.

"You obviously want to kill someone with that smile," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about" you made an innocent face flapping your eyelashes

"It's dangerous to be with you today. Who's the victim? »

"Someone very interesting" then you ran through the collar of his jacket with your fingers, sending him a fairly frank look

"________, you will be my doom!" he said, leaving a light kiss on your hand before heading deep into the hall.

You turned your eyes to an angel who was imbued with excitement. You just chuckled. Taking your leather clutch you headed towards the restroom, the entrance of which was almost next to their table. You walked in his direction without taking your eyes off him. Your confident gait and the evolving hem of the dress barely reached the middle of your thigh, attracted the views of the rest of the guys. You could see how tense his cheekbones were, and the smile grew wider as you got closer. But before you reach their table, you looked forward and walked past them. This made him leaned again on the back of the sofa. You were walking down a narrow hallway filled with dim red light toward the women's restroom at the end. This place was impregnated with debauchery, because for the you can pass each other together in the long narrow hallway, you need had to went too close to each other. You went into the ladyroom and stood in front of the mirror, fixing your makeup and hair. You sat down on the couch that was near the entrance intenton spending more time here than necessary. Going out into the hallway you stopped at the door. The angel stood in the middle of the narrow hallway, leaning against the wall and his arms folded on his chest. Although now he did not look like an angel at all. The dim red color turned him into Lucifer.

Your skin is covered with goosebumps only from its appearance. You started taking slow steps in his direction. The sound of your heels in the quiet hallway caught his attention. He turned his head in your direction, met your glance. He didn't even move while you were walking in his direction. You got close enough. Because of his posture that he had, you need to almost step over his legs to would pass on. Turning sideways, you were face-to-face in a narrow hallway. Before you stepped astep in the exit side, he stretched his hand forward blocking your path. You chuckled, leaning against the wall. You looked down. You slowly looked up, looking at every inch of his taut body, which was covered in a black suit, before returning to his eyes.

"Mum forbids me to meet dangerous girls," he said, finally breaking the silence when you met him again.

"Am I a dangerous girl?" you asked, sending the most lustful smile back.

"Definitely"

You took a step forward leaning close to his body, "Then why are you here?" you whispered in his ear touching his earlobe with your lips before returning to your original position. You chuckled at him, when you felt how hard-on he was. He came up in to you. You felt his hot fingers on your bare back. He kissed you. It was too erotic. The kiss was quite overbearing, even his taste was perfect. It seemed like a kiss lasting forever. He was squeezing you in his arms by pressing you against his body. You could feel his muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. Despite the fact that the kiss was passionate his hands remained motionless around your waist. After a while he pulled away from you.

"My name is..." you raised your hand and covered his mouth causing silence.

"Isn't mom forbidden to meet dangerous girls?"

He raised his hand up wrapping his fingers around your wrist. His hand moved to your fingers. He put one finger to his mouth, and took the finger tip of his mouth lightly biting it. It was strong enough that your skin would be covered with goosebumps. "I've never been an obedient son" he sent you a lustful look while doing the same thing with your every finger.

"Wouldn't your friends worry about your long absence?"

"I'm old enough to decide when I should come back or leave," he said slightly biting his last finger. You felt the pain echoed by the heat in your crotch.

"Then, do you want to leave with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask" he sent you a wide smile. You took his hand and led him along. You walked along the corridor passing by the exit to the hall. It was practically a labyrinth if you don't know where to go. A few minutes later you went out to a dark parking lot that was behind the club. Only the staff were parked here. You got to your car and you were glad you only took one sip of your cocktail. "Sit down" you showed him on the car, turning to him you added "Don't worry, I only took a small sip of not much strong cocktail." You went to the car and opened the door.

"I'm more surprised by the fact that you leave a car unlocked in a parking lot like this" he said and you laughed.

"I have never met such madmen who would go to this parking lot. The owner is quite an influential person in town," you replied, getting in the car.

You had a room booked in a nearby hotel. Since your company often used this hotel, you always used the entrance for the staff. After scanning the map, you stopped by the closed parking lot.

"Do you always use parking lots designed only for staff?" he asked, turning to you.

"Not always, but often. Them have always less of an eye and a camera," you smiled back at him, stopping the car.

"To you or to me?"

You laughed quietly, "Damn, I could have guessed that you were in this hotel. I think they can find us in your room," you said as you got out of the car. You're headed for the service elevator. After scanning the card, you clicked on your floor. He held your hand twisting your fingers  with his as you walked down an empty corridor.

You went to your door and get out the key card. When you opened the door, you let him go forward. Before you close the door, you put up a 'don't disturb' sign. He went inside bedroom and stood at the panoramic window, looking down at the night city. You were glad to get rid of the high heels. You went up to the bar in the living room and took an open bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. Going into the bedroom you passed him and sat on the floor in front of the window leaning on the bed. He's been watching your every move. You put wine glasses on the floor and clapped place on the floor next to you. "We must be enjoyed rightly with this view to a night city" you said, filling the glasses.

"We can't having a hello drink. I still don't know your name" he said, raising a glass after sitting next to you.

"I don't think we need names today. We can have a drink for a nice evening," you smiled at him.

He put a glass on the floor before kissing you. This time he was gentle. He got up taking your glass out of your hands. He pulled your hand to help you get back on your feet. He resumed the kiss. He kept taking neat steps forward forcing you to retreat to the window. You moaned when the cold glass touched your hot skin. He turned your face to the window resting your hand right in front of you. Positioning his left hand next to yours, he held his fingers on your right thigh slightly touching the hem of the dress. His hand was moving up to your stomach. His fingers were circling around your excited nipples. He wrapped his fingers around his neck, you felt his hot breath near his ear. "Should at least that this city memorized, as I fucked you" he gently bit the skin on your neck while his hand unbuttoned your dress. Your dress fell to the floor and you kicked it in the nearest corner. You were standing just in the lace panties while he was fully clothed. You could see his reflection in the window. He put his hands on your shoulder before slowly lowering them along your back. He hooked his fingers on your panties and slowly led his hands down your feet while sit down at squatting. He took it off, and before he got up, he left a light kiss on your buttock. His hot breath drove you crazy. He got up and put your panties in his pants pocket.

"Perhaps I'll keep it" he smiled

"Don't you have enough presents?"

"It's interesting to get a present not from a fan"

"Why would you think I wasn't your fan?"

"Say my name and I'll give it back to you" he replied, meeting your gaze in the reflection of the window.

You were wrong from the beginning, he definitely wasn't an angel!

He stuck his hip between your legs, making you stood wider. You could feel his hard dick through the fabric of his pants. He lead his fingers on your damp crotch, and your skin was covering with goosebumps. He kept rubbing your moisture circling around the clit while leaving light kisses on your back and neck. He removed his hand, brings his fingers to his lips, licking them. "Mmm... You're so delicious" he took a step forward forcing you to come close to the window. He got down on one knee and left a strong bite that went into a kiss on your buttocks. He turned you around, bending your leg, he put it on his shoulder. 'Why even in this pose does he look so overbearing' you thought, while he left light kisses on the your inner thigh. He lead his tongue on your clit and your body arch out for pleasure. He kept circling his tongue on your clitoris. He put one finger inside you and you moaned. He made slow jolts while squeezing your clit with his lips. He added a second finger inside before his jolts became stronger. He bit your clitoris a little bit, causing the electric current to pierce your body. You moaned loudly when his tongue skillfully played with your clit and fingers with force fucked your pussy. You felt the orgasm coming, too fast, you wanted to enjoy it longer.

It was amazing. The fingers of his second hand katch into your thigh without letting you move. His tongue alternated with the his lips on your clit and your fingers increased the tempo, your hips trembled for pleasure. He bit your clitoris in combination with tough fast jolts, your orgasm hit you like an avalanche. The spasm has bound your body by depriving you of the ability to move. He took his fingers out of you, and only his tongue gently licked your while you were recovering. He stood up and kissed you, you could still feel your taste on his lips. He kissed you tenderly, hugging you by the waist and pressing your body. His kisses were long, drawn over and over into the maelstrom of debauchery. He bit your lower lip and raised his hand he held his thumb in that place. He came up again and lead his tongue across your lips while his hand moved around your neck. "On knees " he whispered, squeezing your throat. He took off his jacket by throwing it on a chair while you knelt down. He slowly unbuttoned his pants, the fact that he remained fully clothed excited. Slightly sliding the boxer, he took out a dick, and you licked your lips. His dick was as perfect as he was. He took a dick in his hand and lead it over your wet lips. You raised your head when you met his gaze. You stuck your tongue out and licked his glans. He looked into your eyes as he continued to lead his glans over your tongue and lips. When you put your lips around, you started making shallow jolts. His hand moved into your hair causing you to take his dick completely in your mouth until he pulled the glans up to the wall of your throat. You completely released his dick from your mouth before taking it completely again. You repeated it a few times, and it made him moan loudly. His moans were more like a growl. His hips were moving while you kept sucking his dick. After a while, his jolts got a lot tougher, you almost suffocated while he was violently fucking your mouth. "Ah... fuck... Fuck!.. It's too good..." he was just with his low voice. He made some more deep jolts before taking the dick out of your mouth. He kept jerking off his dick while his sperm covered your boobs. You lead the tip of your tongue on his glans licking the remnants of sperm until he was completely lost in his orgasm. He hissed while you continued your little torture. You drove your lips and tongue over his over-sensitive glans causing him to tremble from overstimulation.

He sharply lifted you, squeezing your throat and passionately kissed you. Turning you back to the bed, he pushed you hard at it. He walked slowly to the bed and leaned over, leaning on his hands on either side of you. He looked at you with almost black eyes with excitement, from which trembling passed through your body. "You too dangerous" his voice drove you crazy. When you got up in your arms, you lead your tongue over his lips. "No more dangerous than you, " you replied. He rose up, still resting one knee on the bed. He slowly reached for the top button and unbuttoned it. Having descended on your elbows, you continued to watch this erotic performance that he arranged for you. His appearance was so corrupt while he was unbuttoning his shirt that you practically moaned at every movement of his fingers. He unbuttoned his shirt and sent it to the floor. He took a step back before getting rid of his pants and boxers. Finally he stood in front of you completely naked. ‘Omg he clearly cannot be a human’, you thought, examining every millimeter of his muscular body. You sat down and ran a hand over his abs. You felt his muscles tighten under your fingers. Taking your wrist, he laid your palm on his cheek. Your cold hand met his hot skin. You got up and kissed him. Pulling at the waist, he pressed you to him. The moment was so gentle that you just melted in his hands. Tenderness is not a feeling that you can afford, you pulled away taking a step back. He came closer forcing you to climb onto the bed.

He kissed you. This time it was just lust. He abruptly entered you and a loud groan burst out of your chest, because of a mixture of pleasure and pain. You were squeezing around his dick trying to adjust to his size. He was completely coming out of you making strong jolt back. If he continues to do so, your heart will stop from overfeeling. Your body wriggled under him while he continued his torture. He fucked you so hard that you forgot how to breathe. He placed your feet on his shoulders, from change the angle the jolts became deeper. He increased the speed, causing your body to tremble with pleasure. Your orgasm was too close. But before you could cum, he completely got out of you. You whimpered at the loss of the sensation of his dick inside you, you were so close to orgasm. He bit the skin on your ankle before putting your feet down. Taking your wrist, he pulled you on himself. He kissed you before turning on your stomach. Putting a few pillows under your pelvis, he spread your hips wide. With his head down, he lead his tongue across your crotch. It made your back bend, lifting ass up. But you just got a strong slap. He slowly led the glans over your clit sending electrical discharges through the whole your body. Your back was arched. You almost cried with relief when he put his dick into you. His jolts were too slow. He kept fucking you slowly. Although the jolts were tough it wasn't enough to cum. He increased the speed by sticking his fingers into your thighs. The orgasm began to form again inside. You've dissolved into the pleasure he gave you. The tremor went through the body when he slapped you with force. Your moans were so loud that you had to eat a blanket to drown them out. Your body was beyond your control, your tremor intensified when the orgasm was so close. He came out again and did not let you cum... You almost whined when you heard a quiet laugh from behind.

"Please..." you whispered, your heart was so beating that nothing but it you could hear, how can he be so calm. You almost reached orgasm twice, but he never let you cum... Your excitement was on the limit. You could barely breathe. He lay down on you and you felt his hot breath on your neck. You could also feel how badly his heart was beating. "Sorry, but you're so good that I don't want to cum so fast. Besides, your reaction in these moments is priceless," he whispered. He lead his tongue around your neck, "You're so delicious." Moving his weight over one hand, he wrapped your hair on his fist turning your head in his direction. He kissed you again getting his dick into your cunt. Your body has bent under it, the excitement has made your body too sensitive. With each jolt he deepened his kiss. He pulled away, leaning on his hands he began to make tough jolts.

"Please." You whispered with every jolt "please... please... please... please... please... please... please..."

"You're so cute begging" he growled at the pace of "This time I willn't stop." He moaned loudly while fucking you. “Fuck ... it’s so .. I won’t be able to hold out for a long time ... fuck ..” he came out of you. He turned you on your back and get back his dick into you. His eyes were almost insane... His body was wet from sweat... Even now he looked more like an angel than a human being... your body bent out when the orgasm came down on you with force... you squeezed around his dick while he kept fucking you. A few minutes later, he cum too, his fingers inscribed in your thighs causing pain. You were shaking under him. You couldn't move or talk, your eyes was closed. The body felt broken. You felt hot lips that left a light kiss. He lay down next to you hugging you...

You opened your eyes, were too hot... How long has it been and why you can't move. Turning your head you were face to face with an angel. He was slept lying on the side and his hands were hugging you tightly, pressing you against his naked body. Now it's clear why you couldn't move, and why it was so hot. You smiled, he was fast asleep. You crawled out of bed, trying not to wake him up. You lifted his stuff off the floor and put it on the chair next to his jacket. Picked your dress up from the floor, you came out of the bedroom closing the door. You quickly took a shower and dressed in a suit. Opening the front door, you picked up the breakfast you left in front of the door as always. You put breakfast on the table and left a note:

'You was my dream I dreamed last night. Goodbye.'

You came out of the room leaving an angel in your bed.

'You was my dream I dreamed last night. Goodbye.'

You came out of the room leaving an angel in your bed.

All day, it's been too hard for you to focus on work. Your body was aching, like you were running a marathon yesterday. Every time you felt pain, you remembered an angel. "It was just a dream, no more, " you whispered to yourself. After work, you got in the car and headed back to the hotel. Passing the front entrance to the hotel you noticed a large crowd of girls with posters in Korean, around a black van with tinted windows. 'Wow, they're really popular.' You thought you should be interested in a little more of popular artists. You went up to your room. There's still a 'don't disturb'  sign on the door. You went into the room. The table was cleaned, so he had breakfast before leaving. After the shower, you went into the bedroom, opening the door, you froze for a second before going inside. On the bed lay a beautiful dark red rose on top of the envelope. You opened the envelope pulling out a note. In the middle of the white note was written in a big beautiful handwriting:

'My name is Mark'

You turned the note and found another inscription at the bottom:

'I thought, that in our dream, at least one of us must have a name. Goodbye my dream.'

"Goodbye, Mark" you said smiling

___________________________

[yakumtsaki]

Well guys, it’s that time of year again. To recap, Jojo is still not a werewolf, Wyatt has shattered every record of incompetence and still not reached the top of his career, noogiesexual Shajar got dumped by Sophie Miguel and befriended a vampire, Cyneswith continues to date black-lipstick-broken-face-template flop Don Oates, Wulf grew up in the most iconic outfit of all time, and we got a new cat named Alcibiades for D’vorah to mate with since she refused to have kittens with poor Sweets. So let’s pick up right where we left off, which is of course the endless battle of getting D’vorah to procreate..

-Come on sweetie, we got a new boy toy just for you, get on with it, you’re almost an elder!

-NEVER! I’m a direct descendant of Zoroaster’s cat herself, I’ll never sully my bloodline with the genetic material of some pound mutt! You find me an appropriate mate before I go full Henry VIII!

STOP MIXING HISTORICAL REFERENCES AND FUCK ALCIBIADES ALREADY. His name undercuts my point but still.

-Do we have any custom blue fur paint for my balls?

ALCIBIADES SHUT UP. You assholes are by far the worst generation of pets yet, the two cat losers are bad enough but then add fucking Maxx to the mix-

-AND FORGET ABOUT IT. Look who’s getting along all of a sudden! 

-Yes, now that it’s become clear that this cat legacy shitshow is crumbling, I’ve stopped beating up the cats because I will look like a bully kicking them while they’re down. It’s part of my image revamp to get the audience behind a dog legacy! 🐶

Maxx, nothing personal, but I hate you more than you can possibly imagine. Let’s check in with the humans, I’m sure they will be totally normal, likable and stable as always-

-I can see your beating heart with my x-ray vision. I want to eat it. 

-Yay, let my sister eat your heart! 💗

-Stop patronizing me, you little bitch, I can get my own hearts to eat. 

-I just get excited when we do things together! 💗

-GAWD GTFO CYNESWITH, you’re ruining my Aztec sacrifice!!! 

-Ah, to be middle aged and in love, with your terrible children about to fuck off to college at any minute.. Looking at you, Wulf. Literally looking at you. 

Somehow that is already enough checking in with the humans for one update?

-HAHA I GOT YOU! GIMME IT!! YOU DON’T EVEN NEED IT

-LEAVE MY HEART ALONE, SHAJAR, I KEEP TELLING YOU IT’S A VITAL ORGAN

-No it’s not, the paper that got my father kicked out of the mad scientist association said so! 

They hated Jojo because he told them the truth.

These two are actually getting along great and I get my hopes up that Shajar will stop being a literal incel! Let’s all join together in prayer-

-Did someone say ‘prayer’?

GODDAMMIT SOPHIE YOU HAVEN’T SHOWED UP AT ALL AND YOU CHOOSE THIS MOMENT TO MAKE YOUR GHOST DEBUT?? FUCK OFF  

-HAHA I was waiting for a situation where my appearance would hinder the biggest amount of sin!!!!

UGH you’ve gotten even more religious in death?!

-Of course I have, what do you think heaven does to your faith?

How the fuck are you both in heaven and wandering the earth as an apparition?

-My spirit takes earth vacations to cockblock! 

Well at least you’re dying how you lived: pissing me off. 

And of course Maxx goes in for the kill with his ‘good doggie’ routine, terminally distracting Blueshirt Whatshername from Shajar’s heart-eating charms. As always, big thanks to our pets, both alive and dead.

End of the road, Shajar! Enjoy this dancing scholarship that you hilariously earned during all the outings I forced you into to get rid of your incelitude.

As Shajar leaves for college a kissless noogiesexual, I decide to try and solve at least one of my problems, and that problem is called Don fucking Oates. So we call Lakshmi back, hoping she has forgiven me for our last tense interactions-

-I have not.

Wow ok well now you’re just being petty, you saddled me with Don Oates, don’t be a sour winner. Now is there anyone out there that can potentially beat Cyneswith and Don’s natural 3 bolts???

-Nop. 

LAKSHMI COME ON, YOU’RE NOT LOOKING HARD ENOUGH

-I’m telling you, there isn’t anyone else, they’re a perfect match!

Well I refuse to accept that reality, so hit us with your best shot.

-Whatever, it’s your money.

I mean technically it’s Jojo’s and maybe I shouldn’t be spending it so freely..

-Daddy wouldn’t have a problem with it! 💗

Yea he sure wouldn’t, Cyn, since he’s literally this post.

IS THAT ANOTHER TRICOU LOVECHILD AND THE LAMEST ONE TO BOOT???

-Yup.

HARD PASS. 

-Je suis back et je non get prόmόted agàin! :D

Another hugely successful day for Wyatt as usual. Honestly as long as you don’t get fired or demoted for a third time, whatever.

-Sό je can go to sleepé?? :D

Yea sure, it’s not like there’s anything for you to do around here now that the kids have grown up. Not that you ever did anything to begin with-

-Oui oui, all tres fascinàting, bonne nuit now!

Oh actually wait, I do need you to do something before you go to sleep for 16 hours.

-Quoi???

-Ohh, le pόrtait de le morté!

Le portrait de le morte indeed. Jojo is predictably super into his death portrait being painted, as one is. Seriously what are you doing.

-Composing a tragic opera about myself, what else.

On a casio??

-I could afford a concert piano but it wouldn’t fit into this pathetically tiny house you built, would it?

Ok I get where you’re coming from, but in my defense, given your youthful days, who the fuck could had anticipated you evolving into a financially successful and mentally stable adult instead of a bankrupt lunatic that eats his own feces?

-Oui, that’s what Shajàr est going to be! Huhu!

-HAHAHAHA oh Wyatt, you’re so attractive when you’re insulting our two terrible children. Where is that little goblin anyway?

Omfg you assholes, she went off to college yesterday.

-She did??? About time! One down, one to go. If only Cyneswith could stay here forever :(

-Oui :(

-________-

Speaking of, let’s try this one more time. Lakshmi please, for the love of god, give us something I can work with. 

-Alright fine, you wore me down. Ask..

-..and you shall receive.

OMG YAS RICKY CORMIER, I LOVE HIM AND HIS FACE TEMPLATE. What the fuck are you wearing, Rick? Don’t dress up on our account. 

-I was teleported here right from work, where the fuck am I???

That’s a great question Rick, you’re in our front yard on a date with our resident 10 nice points freakshow, Cyneswith. And I see that you have 7 nice points to Don’s 4, so you crazy kids just go ahead and hit it right off now!

-Not if I have anything to do with it!

VICTOR NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR GHOST BINGO, FUCK OFF

-It’s always the time for ghost bingo.

I try my best to make this date go well but Ricky isn’t into Cyneswith AT ALL. It’s honestly pretty offensive and I hate him now. 

‘I’ve had better dates’, you’re like 15, Casanova, calm down. What a twerp. 

With that last doomed attempt to break her and Don up, the time has come for Cyneswith to fuck off to college as well, and yes, Don is coming with us to be endlessly cheated on by Miss 20 Simultaneous Lovers/Grey Hair turn on. Fuck both mine and Don’s lives. 

As if my failure to perform a Donectomy wasn’t bad enough, what does Wyatt get the day he’s finally guaranteed to be promoted, BUT ANOTHER FUCKING CHANCE CARD, WITH WHICH HE HAS A 2 OUT OF 2 FLOPPING SCORE. One of them got him demoted, the other got him fired, it took us forever to get him the 9 fucking friends he needed, so this is just terrific. Istg I could go to a police academy in real life, graduate, join the force, rise up through the ranks and become a superhero in less time than it has taken Wyatt to do it. Here goes nothing but Wyatt’s hopes and dreams..

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FINALLY

F I N A L L Y. 

OMFG.

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS SHIT WAS LEGIT HARDER THAN KOMEI’S 6 PETS CAREER ONE, FUCKING HELL WYATT.

What a sight for sore eyes. 2 days before elderhood, but we did it, mon bebe! I’m so proud of us, but mainly me, for not giving up and making you a househusband which I know realize I should had done, because you’re so gonna destroy this city. 

-Je will savé la city! First ordér of enterprisé, àpprehending le killér seriàl knόwn as Dr. Gingér Violetté! ⭐

Oh boy. Good luck with that!

[henrikvanderswoon]

Double the Kill: A Nancy Drew Play Written by 12-year-old Yours Truly - Readthrough Reactions

Okay, guys, I went through two cups of super strong coffee reading through this thing and I think I can hear colors now so… Have fun reading this!

I sincerely haven’t read this thing in probably ten years and I legitimately forgot almost everything about this play I wrote for myself and my twin/two best friends to perform. We used to write plays for each other all the time, as well as play Nancy Drew games together, so… this was all very fitting.

Anyway, this is a super long one and I APOLOGIZE but also I hope you enjoy reading this thing as much as I enjoyed writing it 😂

Okay, for starters, this story is titled: “Double the Kill” for two reasons that I can remember: (1) someone actually gets murdered, and (2) someone beheaded the Lincoln Memorial statue. 

…

You know when you’re in middle school and you’re assigned some topic to research for a project and suddenly you have this stupid amount of knowledge about something you don’t know what to do with? 

That’s what happened here. 

Anyway.

So, apparently I didn’t know what the word “pervert” was when I was 12 (poor, sheltered creature) so I legitimately named a character Blake Pervey and I’m gonna fling myself into the sun. 

Oh my gosh, I wrote up a case profile for this, complete with character roles and everything. Incredible.  

Let’s provide that for you guys:

The Case: Billionaire Erving Nickels is holding a benefit concert at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C., where the band “One Love” will be performing. Erv senses trouble, so he calls Nancy Drew and her best friend Bess Marvin to watch out for anything “suspicious.” But about an hour before the concert’s about to start, One Love’s lead singer Terri James is found dead near the Lincoln statue and the head of the statue is gone!

Contact: Erving Nickels - a billionaire who’d arranged the benefit concert. He asked Nancy to come and watch for anything “suspicious.” 

Suspects: 

Erving Nickels: Goes by Erv, for short. As it turns out, this man has actually gone bankrupt recently. Could he go to desperate measures to gain back his wealth?

Blake Pervey (I still want to die): One Love’s back-up singer. Terri had broken up with him recently because he’d attempted to cheat on her (huh, maybe he really is a pervert after all). Did he murder her to get revenge and take her place as the lead singer? 

Lyza Benton: The make-up artist. Lyza is always on the prowl for the next juicy gossip to spill to the press and gain publicity. Could she have killed Terri to create the ultimate story?

Myra “Ryan” Williams: One Love’s guitarist. She was the person Blake had attempted to cheat with, but she’d refused. Terri didn’t believe Ryan’s story and blamed her for everything, which caused the two women to hate each other.

Victim: Terry James

Okay. Already this is a little better than “Murder at Turquoise Inn,” because there are actual suspects with actual motives??? aMAZING. 

Wow, Nancy’s a bitch. She didn’t even tell Erving that Bess was coming along. 

Erv keeps saying that he thinks something bad is going to happen tonight, and Nancy and Bess are both like,“Can you please explain why?” And he’s like, “I just have a feeling.” Like boi, that’s sketch. 

Bess: “Sorry to change the subject, Mr. Nickels.” 

Erv: “Please, just call me Erv.” 

Bess: “No thank you.” 

Bess…I know Erv is a weird name, but…why? 

Mr. Nickels is taking Nancy and Bess on a tour, right? And I keep peppering in random facts about the Lincoln Memorial I learned for school and it’s SENDING ME. 

“I’ll watch and wait for our groovy band to arrive, while you girls split up and watch for suspicious activity. Now, let’s boogie!”

Asfbadka Erv, no one talks liKE That! 

I would just like to take a moment to preface the rest of this post with the fact that I wrote this for me and my friends, and we were always writing the stupidest dialogue for each other because we thought it was hilarious. Um…which hopefully explains lines like these: 

(1) No one calls Erv Nickels, the handsome billionaire, “Darling.” Except his mother.

(2) [We’re going to change.] No, don’t change. We like you guys just the way you are. *laughs obnoxiously* 

…

I hate myself. 

So Blake and Terri arrive in the limo and let me tell ya’ll Blake is definitely flirting with Erv right now and I’m so fucking confused. 

Terri: That man’s got problems. I guess money does that to people. 

Blake: But we have money and we don’t have problems. 

Terri: Maybe it only happens to men.” 

Blake: But… I am a man. 

Terri: Exactly.

Okay, you can tell my love for writing banter was here from the fuckin get-go. 

Oh god, now Blake is flirting with Nancy. Fuckin hell. I may not have known what the word “pervert” was when I was 12, but this man was aptly named. 

Suspicious, suspicious.*Mocking* ‘Can you girls watch for anything suspicious?’ Something suspicious, yeah right. Oh look! A BUG. Oh, soooo suspicious.

Bess…. I love you. 

Okay, as dumb as everything is in this thing, some of this dialogue is fucking cracking me up so hard.

Bess: No! Honestly. I swear, it’s almost like he’s trying to keep us busy so something bad can happen.

*A faraway scream cuts in from offstage*

*Nancy and Bess look off in the direction it came from, way too casual*

Bess: What was that?

Nancy: I dunno. 

*They pause, then their eyes widen in realization* 

Nancy: Oh crap.

Listen, I know I’m a comedic genius, but this is getting out of hand. Dsbfsjkdsjfbk

Bess: Mr. Nickels! What woman was screaming so high like that?

Erv: That was me. 

I CAN’T BREATHE. 

I saw Terri lying there on the floor, apparently dead. 

Erving… the woman is DEAD. What do you mean “apparently?” 

Nancy and Bess find a letter Terri was going to give to Erving to tell him she can’t do the concert because she also felt like something terrible was going to happen to her, and all Bess can do is repeatedly laugh at the word, “Flee.” 

Hey, too bad “Honest Abe” is missing his head, otherwise he could tell us whodunnit.

Wow, yall. Bess is my favorite. 

You know, the funniest thing about this is that you can definitely tell how many of the games I played between writing my horrible novel at the age of ten and writing this. If this thing had better dialogue and more fleshed out story/characterization, I could picture this as an actual game, not gonna lie. 

And… maybe if it didn’t involve removing the whole-ass head of the Lincoln statue…

Yanno, tiny details like that.

Lyza: *laughing* Scared you, didn’t I? 

Bess: Oh, “scared’"is such a strong word. I’d say more… "severely startled.”

So Erving reveals to Nancy that he’s actually not dumb as bricks, but puts up the facade because he’s broke and doesn’t want anyone thinking he’s not still super rich and air-headed. I’m crying. 

You sensed something bad was going to happen. You should have called the police to stand guard! Not some amatuer teenager who calls herself a detective and her little friend!

…. The pervert has a point. 

So Lyza likes to meddle in people’s business. Ryan had written about Blake’s advances in her journal and Lyza blackmailed her about it, Terri blamed Ryan for Blake’s attempted cheating. Blake tried to bribe Ryan into going out with him by telling her he’d discovered a way to get his hands on a fabulous collection of priceless jewels, and Terri broke it off with him. He’s upset, Ryan’s pissed that Terri thinks she went along with Blake, Erving borrowed money to organize the benefit concert (in order to benefit himself) and now he’s in even deeper debt because the concert has been cancelled and Lyza is having a fuckin field day. 

BOY AM I ON BOARD FOR THIS SHIT.

Before he came into wealth, Erving worked in a museum in Chicago, and Bess finds a piece of paper on the floor of Ryan’s trailer with the phone number to this exact museum. Nancy calls to see if there is any connection between that museum and the Lincoln Memorial and apparently there’s a theory that the head of the Lincoln statue contains jewels that the museum talks about in a part of their exhibit. 

*kronk’s face* Oh yeah. It’s all coming together.

Nancy: For all I know, you could be the murderer. 

Erv: Why would I do that? I needed the money from the concert!

Nancy: No you didn’t. You could’ve just–I dunno–stolen the head of Abe over there in search for the ALLEGED JEWELS INSIDE.

Ya’ll… please don’t ask me how the FUCK one person would get tools to remove that head without anyone noticing. Please. 

Blake: Hey, guys, have you seen Ryan anywhere? 

Nancy: Why? You gonna ask her out again?

Kjdbfisfdosidnf FUCKIN’ SAVAGE, NANCE. 

oH MY GOD THE CULPRIT SLIPPED UP SO EASILY I’M SCREAMING. 

oH my god, Nancy told Erving they needed something to pick the lock on one of the trailers and he’s all: “Like a bobby pin?” And just takes off his hat, removes a bobby pin, and “lets his long hair cascade down and over his shoulders like a waterfall” and I’m crying. I can’t fuckin’ breathe.

Oh shit, wait… the first culprit was actually covering for the real culprit all along I’m losing my mind. My twelve-year-old brain was so advanced I just threw a curveball at myself sjdbfshdbfagh

Okay, so I’m not gonna spoil anything because I think it’s hilarious to keep you all wondering what the fuck is going on and who the hell did it and why, but I would just like you all to know that this play literally ends with one of the characters singing Hannah Montana’s “The Best of Both Worlds” completely off key because I thought it would be hilarious and I think that really tells you a lot about who I am as a person.

[apparitionism]

Hark

A merry early Gift Exchange to @kla1991​, whose not-so-secret Santa I am this year. This is the first part of a story set somewhat in-universe: there’s no season 5 (what could that even be?), and only the first ep of season 4—basically, time wound back to right before the Warehouse exploded in Stand, which aired on Oct. 3, so the Christmas during which this story is set is happening less than three months after that momentous occurrence. I’m postulating that Helena became an agent again, and there was no Artie/Father Data business. (Oh, and Steve didn’t die, so no metronome. I refuse to force Helena through witnessing anyone being brought back non-nefariously from the dead.) I’ll do my best to post the concluding part(s) by New Year’s Day—no promises on that, but I’ll finish as soon as apparitionally possible. Anyway, happy holidays to everyone. Continuing to participate with you all in this wondrous exercise in fandom is a blessing in every tradition, and I’m profoundly grateful.

Hark

“Your upstart nation stole ‘God Save the Queen’!” Helena seethed at Myka.

For whom “upstart nation” was really too much. “Nobody owns that melody!” she fumed, reciprocally, at Helena. “You can’t steal something nobody owns, our version is perfectly valid, and anyway I’m pretty sure other countries stole it too. Look it up!”

“I’m not in other countries. You look it up.”

“I’m driving! Since when are you such a fan of the monarchy anyway?”

“Stop questioning my patriotism!”

“I couldn’t care less about your patriotism!”

“You brought up citizenship!”

“Because you don’t have any!” Myka had genuinely thought they would be having an intellectual conversation, one about documentation and—

“I did at birth!” Helena raged, and then she scowl-sang, “God save our gra-cious Queen.”

This gave Myka pause. She reflected that she had actually never heard Helena sing before. She then concluded that she never wanted to hear Helena sing again... because Helena could not sing.

However: “My country ’tis of thee,” Myka sang back, frustrated. It was the only reason she herself would ever have sung, because—

“You can’t sing,” Helena informed her, in the tone of a doctor trying to conceal joy at having to report that the patient would not recover.

“Neither can you,” Myka informed back, aiming for straightforward “snide.”

“And I never want to hear you sing again,” Helena continued.

All Myka could come up with in response to that was an inadequate “Ditto.”

Helena sniffed. “You just wanted the last word.”

Myka pointedly let Helena have that last word. To make her stew in it. In the ensuing silence, she continued to drive. On this last leg home from a retrieval, late on Christmas Eve—their very first Christmas Eve—the air between them was frostier than the South Dakota winter outside the car could ever dream of matching.

She was under no illusion that Helena cared at all about anybody saving the Queen, and she herself, while reasonably patriotic on the American side of things, hadn’t sung her way through that song since her childhood. She knew this dispute was ridiculous, and she suspected Helena knew it too. She suspected also that they both understood they were developing a pattern: A period of calm—a deepening of accord—that would sooner or later, particularly in the adrenalin-ebb aftermath of a dangerous retrieval, dissipate into some minimally motivated squabble, the respective sides of which they entrenched themselves into with such commitment that it seemed there could never be an unentrenching.

*

An early instance: Myka had threatened to storm out of their shared hotel room because Helena had mulishly refused to concede that it had been foolish to open a bottle of mini-bar water for which they would be charged five dollars.

“Go right ahead,” Helena had “suggested,” so Myka did.

In the lobby, she’d run into Pete, who wasn’t storming anywhere, just looking for free snacks. “See?” Myka demanded of him. “Like a normal person.”

“If you were normal, you wouldn’t be out here with me. ’Cause you’ve got a hot girl in a hotel room, and I know things got a little uh-oh chasing that guy today, but you’re both still in one piece.”

“Maybe not for long.”

“You volunteered for this.”

“No I didn’t. Artie said ‘Pete, Myka, Helena, get on a plane for Montgomery, Alabama,’ and so we—”

“You know that isn’t the ‘this’ I meant.”

Myka did. But she hadn’t volunteered for that “this” either. Nothing about her response to Helena was voluntary. Nothing about it had ever been voluntary.

“Fights and all,” Pete added. “After the thing”—he always called the barely averted explosion of the Warehouse “the thing,” and so did Claudia—“you could’ve let her leave. You could’ve made her leave. She would have done anything you said.”

“Not anything,” Myka said, to be contrary.

“Maybe you don’t remember how she’d hardly even sit in a chair without your say-so. Oh, but wait, I think I know somebody who remembers everything, some tall lady with a lot of hair, name rhymes with Opelika... hey, that’s you!”

“Shut up. It wasn’t... that simple.”

“It is now.”

She crossed her arms at him.

He sighed. “Lemme show you: ‘Sorry, baby,’” he said in his “Myka” voice, which was terrible. “Me too, darling,” he then said in his “Helena” voice, which was even worse. As himself, he finished, “It’s like you’ve never been in a relationship.”

In a conversation in which Pete had said several annoyingly true things, that one was the most annoyingly true. But: “It’s like,” she conceded, and he slapped the side of her head, very gently.

“Hot girl hotel room,” he said.

When Myka went back to that hotel room, the hot girl said, “I’m sorry,” as if she’d received the same instructions from Pete. “I was precipitately thirsty.”

“I’m sorry too,” Myka told her. “I was precipitately miserly.”

Myka kissed the hot girl, the hot girl kissed back, and they fumbled their way to fine.

Until the next trivial-yet-entrenched tiff... because apparently, peace was for normal people.

*

Normal people. When Myka and Helena finally made it back to the B&B, Leena, Claudia, and Steve were doing reasonably convincing “normal” impressions: drinking hot chocolate, eating cookies, and playing board games. They seemed to be playing all the board games; Leena was replacing the lid on Monopoly, which she set aside, reaching for the next box in a towering stack. “Chef’s-kiss timing,” Claudia told them. “I just bankrupted these two pathetic poser slumlords, and we’re about to start Sorry. It’s funner with four, so siddown, and you two can be a team.”

“Or not,” Myka said, glancing at Helena, who glanced back and gave a definitely not yet inhale-exhale. “Why isn’t Pete playing?”

“We’re supposed to tell you it’s because he’s doing some last-minute Christmas shopping,” Steve said.

Myka was about to ask, “This late at night?” but Claudia supplied, “Except it’s really that he goofed off today and didn’t finish inventory and thought he’d get away with it but then Artie called and yelled at him.”

“And you left him alone to keep working on it? It’s the night before Christmas, and—”

Claudia waved her hands. “And all through the Warehouse, not a creature was stirring, I swear.”

“Besides,” Leena added, “he’s a grown man.”

“Who always ruins Christmas!” said Myka.

“Always almost ruins Christmas,” Claudia corrected.

Myka demanded, “Is there anything about me that says ‘I like a close call’?”

All eyes turned to Helena, then back to Myka.

*

Of course Helena had been part of the closest of calls, and Myka hadn’t liked it at all: nothing but the outcome. The Warehouse, the saving of it, yes, the thing—but the real outcome had been the aftermath at the B&B.

That outcome was real, but it was also a dream, one that Myka had dreamed more often than she would ever have confessed to pondering in her heart, this dream of being alone with a present Helena, no disastrous endpoint looming. The dream-logic of it: I can touch her? And Myka put a hand to Helena’s elbow. Reached and did that. Helena looked at the hand, the elbow. She looked in Myka’s eyes then and said, “Don’t spare my feelings.”

Feelings? Are you really you in your skin, Myka wanted to ask. Is this your elbow. Instead, because she needed to know, she murmured, “What do you want.”

Helena didn’t say words, but she made a noise that evolution had found fit to preserve from a deep, animal past, a guttural push of sound through the throat-column: it told Myka everything. Told Myka: “Everything.”

No speaking then but by bodies, a language of desperation and culmination. Helena had a mouth that could be met by Myka’s own, clothes that could be removed to reveal a palpable body, with every response of that body real under Myka’s hands. Myka held her eyes closed for much of that night, lest sight confuse her about presence and its proof, lest she fail to attend to what her eyes could never offer: The fleshy heaviness of a tongue in response to her own. The soft give of a thigh interior under her insistent thumb. The steady pressure of a body that pushed back. No empty air, no absence; only presence.

No question marks intruded on their immediate intimacy, their immeasurable, embodied relief. Two days prior, Helena had been a sacrificeable hologram, but all at once she was Myka’s living, breathing, at-last lover. All destined... like meeting at gunpoint.

That night precipitated a fast fall into full couplehood, with seemingly little conscious choice on either of their parts. As inevitable as the gunpoint meetings, the wrenching betrayals, even the miraculous redemption.

But nothing good can possibly be so simple, Myka told herself. Or so inevitable.

“Is that what you believe?” Myka imagined Helena asking this, Socratically. She’d had so many internal conversations with Helena that she found the habit—probably a bad one—difficult to break.

“I’m tired of belief,” Myka told her beautiful, imaginary Socrates. “Sometimes I want to go back to my regular non-Warehouse life, where belief didn’t matter.”

Helena said, still in Myka’s head, still Socratic, “Or did you merely act as if it didn’t matter? Artifacts were born. Religions carried on as they do. Your ignoring belief had no effect on any of it.”

“My not ignoring it has no effect on any of it.”

“So you yourself, regardless of attitude adopted, cannot affect belief.” Socrates paused. Smiled. “Or that which is inevitable.”

Myka did, in such moments, briefly wonder why she needed the real Helena around, if the one in her head was such a reasonable facsimile. A hologram could have done that job just as well.

But the answers, the “here’s why,” came fast and thick, and Myka rejoiced that they could. The real Helena could make Myka laugh an easy laugh, because circumstances were not as they had been with that hologram, when laughter was an impossibility. The real Helena could touch Myka’s neck—not wonderingly, as Myka had known that elbow—but instead quick and hot, in that way that said “we have been intimate recently and will soon again be.” The real Helena could fall asleep and in relaxation display a face so devastating in its symmetry that Myka was inclined to regret not being Michelangelo, so as to recreate it in appropriately tributary marble.

Strange, though, or probably just ridiculous, to feel that your romantic relationship had made more sense when one of you was a hologram.

Myka should have expected Christmas, also a fraught inevitability, to loom as an existential test—yet another existential test—of that relationship.

She should have expected also that when this new existential test was administered, Pete would be the one helping to shove answer sheets and no. 2 pencils into their hands.

*

“Might be a close call or two in Sorry. Sorry!” Claudia cackled. “Anyway, go put your stuff away so we can get our Sorry on. Also our merry. We might even sing.”

“Or not,” Myka said again, and this time she got an eyeroll in response rather than meaningful breathing. An improvement? Hard to tell.

“Nobody’s required to sing anyth—” Leena began, but then she sat up very straight and cocked her head. “Do you hear that sound? Or I guess I mean, do you feel that sound? It’s not singing.”

Helena moved her head too, and not in a way Myka recognized. “I do feel that sound. In fact I believe I know that sound.”

“I do too,” Leena said.

Steve squinted. “Feels like... a weird earthquake? Is it happening all over Univille?”

Claudia said, “This is the kind of thing they blame on us even when it isn’t us. It’s why they look at us weird at the supermarket.”

“I can’t feel anything,” Myka said. “What is it?” She looked first to Helena, who was shaking her head—not at Myka, not with anger, but as if she might be able to find the right shake to rid her ears of the sound, or the feeling, or whatever it was.

“Agitated artifacts,” Leena said, performing a very similar shake. “They... rumble.”

“Agitated artifacts,” Myka repeated. “Pete’s alone at the Warehouse, it’s Christmas, and artifacts are agitated. Okay.”

Naturally, Pete chose that moment to march in, proclaiming, “I hope everybody’s ready to apologize to me.”

Steve asked, “Why should we apologize?” Now he was shaking his head too.

“Because everybody always says I ruin Christmas.”

Helena said, “As I understand the situation, the salient fact is not that they say you ruin Christmas. The salient fact is that you do ruin Christmas.”

“Almost,” Claudia corrected again. She canted her head, righted it. Canted it again.

“But this time I saved it.”

“By agitating artifacts?” Myka said, but of course he would think that. Probably encouraged them to have a party...

“More so by the minute, from the sound of things,” Leena told him.

“What? No! That isn’t what I did!”

“The artifacts are telling a different story,” Helena noted.

Claudia offered, “It’s more that they’re humming it real low. Like some geologic event that worked its way into a Björk track. Or vice versa.”

Myka—very calmly, she believed, under the circumstances—said, “What. Did. You. Touch.”

“Nothing, Mom,” he said, and his tone caused Myka to spare some sympathy for Jane Lattimer. He then said, as if it were some magnanimous confession, “Okay. Fine. I did, but I gloved up.”

“What did you touch after you gloved up?” Leena asked. “And why?”

“It was like it tapped me on the shoulder...” he began.

Still canting her head, Claudia muttered, “Sallah flashback, Sallah flashback...”

“And said ‘hey big guy’...”

Steve said, “This is already a longer story than I feel like it should be.”

“And told me it had to go the Christmas aisle...”

Myka had had enough. “If you don’t spit it out right now, I personally will Heimlich it out of you. Joyfully. WHAT had to go to the Christmas aisle?”

He turned to her and gave a palms-up shrug. “You know I don’t know anything about classical music.”

She reached to the table for the nearest board game, to throw it at him, but Helena preempted that move by saying, “Judging from Myka’s face, now is not the time for non sequiturs.”

She probably couldn’t have done much damage with a travel-size Aggravation anyway, but travel and aggravation made her think, in Helena’s direction, Oh, now you can read my face. An hour ago in the car, not so much. Then she sighed internally. Or maybe, an hour ago in the car, too well.

Pete was continuing, “But the Messiah had strong feelings.”

“Oh no,” Leena said, and Myka knew that Leena saying “oh no” in that particular way meant she knew something, and the something she knew wasn’t good, but Pete kept on, still enthusiastically proud of himself: “So I gloved up, took it where it wanted to be, and then came home. Because it isn’t Christmas till I’ve won the Trivial Pursuit Star Wars Classic Trilogy Collectors’ Edition!”

“Do I seriously have to remind you I’m the reigning champ?” Claudia demanded. “What you’re saying is, it’s never gonna be Christmas.”

“Not for a while yet,” Leena said, “because we’re going back to the Warehouse. Because I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening.”

“Why do I have to go if I can’t hear whatever it is?” Pete whined.

Myka told him, “I can’t hear it either, and it’s your fault.”

“Your ears are your own problem.”

“I might Heimlich you just for the fun of it.”

Steve said, with concern, “I’ve heard that ribs tend to break.”

Myka nodded. “Exactly.”

“Santa would not approve of that attitude, young lady,” Pete chided.

“All I do is lug around stockings full of coal,” she said. “Do your worst, Santa.”

She made the mistake of glancing at Helena, whose face betrayed a responsive ripple of disquiet. Exactly the wrong sentiment for ending a fight, even a foolish one, Myka realized: imply that nothing you carry with you is what you want. “I didn’t mean...” she began, but Claudia was demanding of Leena, “How do you know what’s happening? And what is happening?”

“He put the Messiah sheet music in the Christmas aisle,” Leena said, with what Myka considered enviable patience.

“You say that like it means something!”

“It does mean something,” Leena said. “You’ll see. More importantly, you’ll hear.”

*

At the Warehouse, when they reached the floor, they were greeted by... “Curtains?” Steve tried, because that was what they were. Tall, cream-colored damask curtains with a green floral pattern. Freestanding, blocking their path. Insistently blocking their path.

“For all of us!” Pete tried back. “Dun-dun-DUN!”

“No...” Leena said. She regarded the curtains. “I know who you are,” she said, and Myka found herself unsurprised to see the curtains rustle at that, as if in appreciation. Leena then said, “And now I know exactly what’s happening.”

“A play is beginning?” Helena suggested.

“Not quite, but you’re in the neighborhood. Surely somebody other than me knows who these curtains are really for.”

Pete leaned close to the curtains, then jumped back like they’d bit him. “Oh my god. Now that I look close—the von Trapp kids!”

“Good boy,” Leena said.

“I thought we were calling him a grown man,” groused Myka.

“Leena is providing positive reinforcement,” Helena said. Pedantic, as if Myka had never heard of such a thing.

“I know she’s providing—” But she shut herself up, sighed in frustration instead.

Leena made sure everyone was wearing gloves, then said, “Claudia, keep your goo gun in your pocket; we might find more of them taking their frustrations for a walk.”

“So do we just put things back where they belong?” Steve asked. “And they calm down and the rumble-chatter stops?”

“Any that got themselves where they aren’t supposed to be, we take them back. But here’s what else we have to do.” She paused. “Sing.”

“No,” Myka said, and “no,” she repeated. She chanced a glance at Helena, but she had closed her eyes and seemed to be pre-massaging a headache out of her temples.

Leena appeared not to have heard Myka, for she went on, “We’ll deal with the curtains first. Next, the Messiah goes back where it’s supposed to be—because that’s what started it all. After that, I think Claudia should tell us what we need to do.”

“Oh god,” Claudia said, sounding just about as dread-filled as Myka felt. “This is Caretaker practice, isn’t it?”

“What if it is?” Leena asked.

“Ugh. Thanks, Pete.”

He said, “Maybe it tapped my shoulder because it thought you needed Caretaker practice.”

Myka snorted. “Maybe it tapped your shoulder because it could tell you’re an easy mark.”

“Hey!” he protested.

“Particularly at Christmas.”

“Hey!”

Leena said, “I think the Messiah might have sensed you’d be an easy mark... mostly because you want to make everybody happy. Particularly at Christmas.”

“See? Leena understands,” he taunted Myka.

Myka once again considered the Heimlich.

They escorted the curtains back to the musicals section, passing by Ginger Rogers’s dancing shoes, and Myka was unnervingly tempted to put them on and bleed her way backwards and in high heels out of the entire situation as Leena explained, “People repurpose ‘My Favorite Things’ as a Christmas song. The curtains find that... troubling.”

Pete scratched his head. “I guess I don’t really get that. Isn’t it kinda great?”

“Wait,” Claudia said, “and this might not even be practice: I think I do get it. How they feel. So let’s say you’re you.”

“I’m me,” he said. “Gotcha. Awesome. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Exactly. But what if some holiday thingy came along and made like it was changing you into something else? They’re afraid we’ll put ’em in the Christmas aisle, and they don’t want to be there. Unlike the Messiah, I guess. Am I wrong, Leena?”

“You’re not wrong,” Leena told her, smiling.

“I feel that too,” Steve agreed. “They’re... afraid? Afraid it’ll diminish them. They’ll be about Christmas and that’s all. That’s why they’re so agitated.”

And so the curtains were serenaded with words about raindrops, kittens, kettles, mittens, and all the rest.

“Are they happier now?” Pete asked. “Do they not feel so bad?”

Leena, Claudia, Steve, and Helena all nodded, if not entirely vigorously. Helena said, “Marginally happier. Not knowing the song, I of course couldn’t participate. I hope they aren’t offended.”

But she hadn’t seemed apologetic at all while the singing took place. In fact she’d smirked. So Myka murmured, “Thrilled, more likely.”

Helena pretended to ignore her but also bared her teeth, minimally, in Myka’s direction, as she said, “Popular culture, alas, remains a largely undiscovered country.”

“It’s just one song,” Claudia said. “You’re getting your head around more stuff all the time! Take the Muppets.”

“Last week’s Christmas special,” Helena said, and Claudia nodded. Myka knew they’d been going one per week, because that was as much as Helena could take, whereas Claudia would have set up a holly-jolly IV drip if she could. Helena continued, “The one you called a ‘crash course’ in several shows’ worth of puppets?”

Claudia nodded again, even more enthusiastically. “Muppet Family Christmas! And now you’re up to speed, so for example when I say ‘Oscar,’ you say...”

“I still fail to understand how the large bird, which seems more accurately a costume than a puppet, qualifies.”

“The answer we were looking for was ‘the Grouch,’ so maybe we’re not quite as far along as I thought. I’m not going to bother with when I say ‘Fraggle,’ you say.”

“Consumer of the structures built by the devoted little workers who wear hats.”

“Aaaand that’s why not. Although your essay answer isn’t wrong.”

“Thank you,” Helena said, performing her funny little bow that struck Myka anew, each time she saw it, as a Victorian tell.

*

In fact, Myka had come home from the Warehouse just as that “crash course” was ending: Helena, as always after such a lesson, looked bemused but relieved, while Claudia was fidgeting with post-lecture satisfaction and, most likely, disappointment that she’d have to wait an entire week till the next one. Myka had asked, “Why does Helena need to know about the Muppets?”

Claudia responded with a puzzled, “Why doesn’t she?”

“Bert, Ernie, and the distinctions therebetween,” Helena said to Myka. “Would that I were you and could retain it all.” She smiled a small “but here we are” smile, and Myka leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed that smile. Because she wanted to; because she could. The smile then widened, and Myka tried not to make the mistake of wondering why every moment wasn’t like this one.

“You two can be pretty soft when you want to be,” Claudia remarked.

Myka had thought, No, we’re not this way when we want to be. It was when they weren’t actively wanting it—or needing it—that this ease stole upon them. But here it was... so Myka kissed Helena again, then asked, “What’s for dinner?”

The asking of that question, in the softness of that moment, had seemed an ideal step forward, one not about destiny or fraught inevitability, but balance and consistency. And then Myka did make the mistake: Why couldn’t every moment be like that? What was it that disturbed all the other moments?

*

Now, as they all headed for the Christmas aisle, Pete pulled on Myka’s arm and held her back a bit from the rest. “You mouthed the words,” he accused, very quietly.

“So what if I did? You know I can’t sing.”

“Maybe it makes a difference. H.G. said the drapes were only marginally better.”

“She didn’t sing either, by the way,” Myka pointed out.

Apparently her feelings about that were clear, for Pete said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I meant you and H.G. Incidentally, you walk a little bit like Big Bird.”

“We’re fine. Incidentally, if you got a chicken bone stuck in your throat I wouldn’t be at all upset about what could happen while I was saving your stupid life.”

“I sort of feel like if she choked on a chicken bone, right now, you wouldn’t want to let anybody else do the rib-breaking.”

Myka almost said a dark “you bet I wouldn’t,” but then she realized: “I think that’s always going to be true.”

Pete nodded. “Kiss her, kill her. I get it.”

Unless he was talking about vibes, he didn’t get it, not fully—Myka herself didn’t get it fully, and in everybody’s defense there was a lot to be got—but it was Christmas-sweet that he got as much as he did. She said a mollified, “Look, just don’t make me sing, okay?” Because if there was anything Myka was sure she and Helena definitely did not need right now, it was a replay of “you can’t sing” and “neither can you.”

“No promises, partner. When Leena says ‘jump’ I say ‘my knees are shot.’ You, on the other hand, when she says ‘sing’? Better say ‘how high.’”

“This is kind of a ‘my knees are shot’ situation,” Myka observed.

“What’s the matter with your knees?”

“Never mind.”

And then they reached the Christmas aisle. About which Myka felt, and felt she had a right to feel, a certain amount of post-traumatic stress.

“If you touch anything,” she told Pete, “I will turn your ribs into chicken bones.”

“That makes no sense.”

“And yet you understand me perfectly.”

He took a step away from her. “In a very mobbed-up way, yes I do.”

Helena, Claudia, Leena, and Steve had ringed themselves around a shelf, and Myka peeked over Helena’s shoulder. Only in the Warehouse, she figured, could a piece of music manage to project the idea that it was pleased with itself.

“It’s gloating at me,” Pete complained.

“It did make you do what it wanted,” Steve pointed out.

Claudia said, “It’s like it knew we’d show up right at this moment.”

“I’m pretty sure it did,” Leena said.

Myka, still at Helena’s shoulder, felt a tension in the body that was not quite touching hers. She felt a tension, too, in words that were not quite meant for her to hear as Helena murmured at the music, “What else do you know...”

TBC

[thaticychica]

Love, Guns and Roses (Mafia AU!) Chapter 1

Summary: After your mother passed away, your father wasn’t able to pay his debt and you were forced to marry the son of the NCT clan’s boss - Kim Do Young, in order to make up for your father’s mistakes. And now you’ll have to deal with your future husbands and the NCT clans business. 

Genre: ...angst, I guess?

Words: 2.3k

„I know I am probably the last person on earth you want to talk to right now, but we have to get going soon.”, a deep yet soft voice spoke when a man opened the door of your bedroom, while watching you from afar.

“I’ll be ready.”, you said, your back facing him.

How pitiful you looked – all curled up in your own yet so unfamiliar bed.

Your bedroom was filled with darkness, not even the slightest ray of sunshine to be seen.

Your hair was a mess, your eyes puffy and your face wet from all the tears that were rolling down.

“Okay… We’re leaving in about half an hour. Meet me at the entrance.”, he half-whispered, glancing at your fragile form one last time, before closing the door – leaving you to your somber bedroom and loneliness.

You took a deep breath and sat up, taking in the room, that was going to be a part of your new life.

You looked to your left, where a sinfully expensive, long dress hung on a hook attached to your new closet and then down to the floor, where a pair of fancy high heels stood, waiting to be worn – “those are going to kill my feet“, you said to yourself.

If you were to determine the worst day of your entire life, it would surely be this one – Today.

Not the kind of “ugh-this-is-the-worst-day-of-my-life-day”, no this is literally as worse as it gets.

>>>      //         Flashback       //

“Why would you do that to me, dad?!”, you almost broke down in tears every time you opened your mouth, trying to protest.

“Darling, please listen to me. Look. I know it’s unfair and I am sorry, that you have to make up for my mistakes, but we do not have another choice.”, your dad said trying to soothe you somehow, when he saw your puffy eyes.

“Dad. Please don’t make me do that. Please don’t make me marry him!”, you begged him for what feels the 100th time today and that’s the exact moment you felt your tears finally rolling down your rosy cheeks.

“I am sorry, I truly am. But if you don’t marry him, they will have no mercy. They might even kill me and do even worse things to you.”

“Why can’t you just pay him the money back somehow!? Ask for more time!”, you tried to argue, even though you knew it would be no use.

“I already did that one too many times. You know the NCT clan’s reputation, you know how much of a big deal they are. They are the most powerful Mafia Clan.”, he was right.

The NCT Clan was one of the most powerful, influential and biggest Mafia Clans. Nobody who was right in their mind would try to mess with them. There were only few Clans that were nearly as mighty and feared as the NCT Clan. 

A Clan feared by most of the other Mafia Clans, as they were known as merciless and cruel. Many of the other Clans tried to compete with them, attack them or even destroy them but all of them failed.

There is only one Clan, that’s considered as equal – the EXO Clan.

Both the NCT and the EXO Clan have many allies however they also have just as many enemies, who try to hunt them down.

Due to the enormous rivalry between the NCT and EXO Clan, both of them have the exact same goal: To annihilate the other.

The mutual desire to destroy each other has led their simple rivalry to a kind of domestic war – a war of the naughty yet subtle kind.

Your family was merely a small yet well off Mafia Clan – you were just little fishes in a big sea full of sharks.

Your childhood was fulfilling – you had everything you desired and even more. A beautiful, big house, a maid, thousands of dresses and so many toys, you could barely count them. Your family and your parents showered you with love – there was only one thing that you’ve longed for more than anything else.

A normal life – visiting a school, having friends you could hang out with afterwards and everything else that comes with it.

Instead you had a home teacher and some cousins your age that would come by every few months. As years went by, you’ve learned to accept this way of life – at least you had your loving parents.

However, the day your mother died in a horrible car accident, everything went wrong – your family went bankrupt, your father became more careless with the little money you had left and here you were.

Forced to marry some strange son of a Mafia-Boss you’ve never seen in your life, sold to the NCT Clan, like a cow back in the days.

“So you really want me to marry some strange, old man!? Someone who probably killed a whole lot of people!? You seriously want your only daughter to spend the rest of her life with a murderer!?”

“I know you’re scared. If I were you, I would be too. But I met Do Young. He is a really nice, well behaved and honorable man. He will treat you just right, I promise. Also, he just turned 23, so he isn’t even that much older than you.”

“Dad! I am 18 years old and I’ve never even been in a relationship, because you…Wait. Did you… No way.”, the moment you heard yourself speaking these words out lout, it felt like everything you believed in fell apart in this very moment.

You finally realized it.

You finally understood. You finally saw everything clear.

All these years your father kept you from having contact to the outside world.

He isolated you completely, as if you would break if anyone touched you.

Like a porcelain doll.  

But it wasn’t because he was afraid of you getting hurt.

It was because he promised the innocent you, to a son of a Mafia-Boss in order to pay back your father’s debts.

“Darling, please. It’s not what you think it is… I am sorry…”

“Please tell me you didn’t keep me isolated from the outside world, because you promised them, that I would marry their son, when I turn old enough to get engaged.”, even though you already knew his answer, you couldn’t help but asking – not wanting to believe your father would do something this unfair to you.

“Please, forgive me. I was so scared, you were so young and your mother… Your mother objected this plan of mine, nonetheless I was able to convince her. I really thought I could pay him back before you were going to turn 18 and I made her believe me... When your mother died, we didn’t have any money left to pay the funeral and I again borrowed money from the head of the NCT Clan…”

“So, you purposely locked me up at home all my life!? And even worse – you made one of the most important decisions of my life, instead of letting me decide who I want to spend the rest of my life with! Shouldn’t you, as my father, want me to marry someone I love!?”, you still couldn’t believe any of this – it’s like the man you knew, isn’t the same man standing right in front of you.

“What I wish for you or you wish yourself don’t matter anymore! You need to understand what’s important. And right now, your only priority should be your and my safety! This is not something you or I can argue with – the decision is made.

You are going to marry Kim Do Young – or else we both are dead! That is my last word.”

>>>      //        End of flashback        //

After you had change into your new, glamourous dress, fixed your face and hair, you took a last deep breath, while starring at your reflection in the mirror.

You were brought to the NCT Clan’s mansion this morning – your father didn’t even bother to escort you there – you were all by yourself, when one of the NCT Clan’s guards led you to the Boss’ office to introduce you to the Boss himself and of course – your fiancé, Kim Do Young.

And to officially announce your engagement to all of the Mafia Clans, a celebration party was going to be held this evening – they clearly weren’t planning on wasting time.

You took small steps, going down the hallway – as if walking slowly was going to change anything.

You could see Do Young standing at the entrance – wearing a luxurious, black suit.

He did look stunning – as much you hate to admit, you couldn’t deny it.

He was handsome, tall, well built and unlike his cold and stern gaze – he had the most beautiful and cutest eyes you’ve ever seen.

As soon as his ears registered the clicking sound of your high heels on the floor, he lifted his gaze and he spoke: “You’re here. You look beautiful (Y/N)…”

“Thank you…”, you mumbled shy, unsure whether he was being sincere, or trying to be polite. Anyway – how could he say that so casually even though you literally just met?

This whole time he acted like this was no big deal for him.

“This guy is Johnny– he is my and from now on also your personal bodyguard. He is of our most talented and loyal men. I trust him with my life and that is why I entrust him with the duty to protect you.”, he explained pointing at the extremely tall man next to him, while Johnny gave you a heartwarming and bright smile.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N). I know this whole situation must be terrifying and confusing but being a part of the NCT Clan, isn’t as bad as you probably think. You’ll see.”, Johnny spoke with reassuring words and somehow these words seem to be calming to your fragile heart, you just couldn’t suppress the subtle smile forming on your lips.

“Wow – look at you. So you actually cansmile, little lady.”, Johnny teased, while knocking his elbow against Do Young’s shoulder.

Before another word can be spoken, the loud sound of the horn of the luxurious limousine in front of entrance gate made all of you jump.

“Well, it seems we have to get going.”, the giant laughed, while turning around to make his way to the car.

While Do Young only nodded, you lower your head – the nervousness slowly overwhelming your body.

“Let’s go (Y/N).”, Do Young announced while gently reaching out for you to take his hand, like a real gentleman.

You immediately complied to his action and took his surprisingly warm, soft hand and like this he led you to the black limousine.

After helping you to climb into the car, he took the seat next to you and soon you felt the car starting to move.

The first few minutes of your drive, no words were spoken and both of you were staring outside the windows. With every little stop, your heart beat faster, in fear of finally arriving at the party – every single of the most powerful Clans were invited.

Every ally. Every enemy. A herd of dangerous men were going to be there.

Were you really going to survive this party?

“You remember the plan?”, Do Young asked, breaking the silence.

“I do. I only speak when somebody is specifically talking to me. No sharing of personal information. And most importantly – nobody is allowed to know about our ‘arrangement’.”, you repeat the rules the Boss of the NCT Clan taught you earlier today.

“Good. What else?”

“Also, we have to act like we’ve known each other for a long time. Act like we’re in love, right?”

“Basically, yes. And in order to make people believe us, I… need to touch you, somehow. Like holding your hand or waist. We’ll also need to kiss at least once – I am going to warn you though before I do anything.”

“Okay…”, you gulp nervously, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Do Young – he was sensing anxiety this whole time.

He knew you’d be scared of everything going on and scared of him – after all you’ve never been in a situation like this and you didn’t even know him one bit.

You were all by yourself when you arrived – shaking like crazy and he saw your eyes brimming with tears. And he just felt so bad for you – you looked so fragile, so small– it made him wanting, to protect you even more. Even though he wasn’t comfortable with this arrangement at all, he was more concerned for you. 

Imagining how lonely, hurt and afraid you must’ve felt…

When the car came to a final halt, Do Young took the chance, to tell you everything, he’s been wanting to tell you.

“Listen (Y/N). I don’t want you to be scared of me. I have no intentions of harming you in any way. I am not the kind of man who gains joy out of hurting or abusing women. I know, right now, you have no reason to trust me in any way. You don’t know me, I am just a stranger to you and on top of that, I am the son of a cruel Mafia Boss. But I want you to know, that I want you to be safe. That is why, I need you to tell me whenever you feel unwell, if someone tries to harm you or if you feel scared. Can you do that? Will you try to trust me?”, somehow his words made you feel better. So much better, so much safer.

Although barely know him, you were able to feel the sincerity in his words, his eyes and his gestures.

Maybe he lied to you, maybe not.

Maybe you were naïve, maybe not.

Maybe you were just so incredibly desperate to have someone by your side, maybe not.

Anyways you were going to try.

“…Okay. I’ll try, Do Young. I’ll try to have trust in you.”

---------------------

...so this is my very first mafia AU! and also the first writing I ever uploaded here. I hope you guys like it :))

[demes-tumbled-sims]

The Avyan Immortal Dynasty, Chapter 8: A Tiny Social Hailstorm

Index

<- Previous 

“We’re having a baby!” “Generation Two is en route!” “...Kestral,” Miki reminds me. “Our kid should be allowed to be a kid, alright? I want you to remember that.” “Don’t worry. Don’t worry.” Sure, I’ve got some ambitious plans, and they’ll have requirements to do, but there’ll be plenty of time for lemonade stand schemes and the like.

Of course, we’re going to need space for a kid, and while my house is looking more like

my house

, I’ve got to admit… That nearly bankrupted us. A really fleshed-out nursery will have to wait.

“OK, so. Mila really is keeping it up with spending time, so Gino gets to see his son as a toddler with the some nice green eyes.

“‘Vroom! Vroom!’ “‘Vwoom!’ “Mila’s house down the road was filled for a while with the sound of father and son. He’s trying to cover the kid’s bases a little. Some playtime…

“Some basic education… Telling him to eat his fruits and veggies (and, I swear, if he’s telling that kid to eat lemons I will give up on the world), and asking for their names back. “‘Brocci!’ “‘Good try!’

“And, well… Just...

“‘C’mere, Julian. I think I know a boy who’s earned a hug!’ “‘Love you, daddy!’ ‘Me, too.’

“Just being there, I guess. Well, that and getting a little busy. He was wandering her house in his pajamas when he went down the hall to see the second one. Little Kate. See, someone apparently has good name sense.

“...She was so tiny. Like, really tiny… You think… Our kid’ll be that small, Miko?”

I’m lying on the grass, telling her that story -- I like telling stories like this, what can I say? And that’s what I ask.

“Maybe; I was a really little baby, too!” Her hands mark the space out, maybe about a foot and a half? And then those hands slide back onto her stomach with a wistful little smile. “As long as the size is healthy, it should be fine if they’re a little on the Tom Thumb/Thumbelina side.”

“...You think we’ll be that good?” I ask what I really wanted to, then. I’m trying to not just swallow the question, because of course we’ll be good. Of course we’ll be fine. I’ve got this, like I’ve got to.

“We’ll have love. The power of love can never be defeated!”

“Yeah, why not.”

Well, however we look at it, he’s still on a row with his angelfish, working on tank #2.

As for me, personally? Well, for the past little while I’ve started a club for keeping me pumped! Encouraging me to go forward! We got pretty far with me practicing drink-mixing as a club activity, but you know what the downside is?

Maximiliano here, who I love for his hair, dirtying up my bar. My bar! My practice metaphorical bar! Stop making drinks there!

I had to set up my portable bar and lure him off of mine, or he’d never leave it alone. My poor baby.

As for some of our other members of the household...

“I know this might be rushing things… But I really think you might be the one,” Akira’s flirting pretty hard with this new girl. I bet he says that to all the girls. No, really. I guess he just decides he’s wrong about that. A lot.

In less ‘Well, that’s self-inflicted’ news, guess who’s head mixologist now?

It’s me, shocker, I know.

And Zest’s spliced our prizes: these plants will grow me pomegranates and orchids, bringing us toward the final stretch. “I’m proud of you, Zest. You’ve done me a fine service.” “You’re welcome. It’s a nice break from the standing in front of a mic forever. I don’t mind the practice, but sometimes the monotony leaves me in a bad…

humor!

Eh? Eh?” He has learned to wiggle his eyebrows. Points. “...I’ll pretend that’s an improvement, Zest.” Deep breath. Be responsible about this. Don’t crush the guy while his aspirations grinding the slow, slow grind. “You’re not doing a very good job, Kestral. Do you wake up in the morning and think ‘I think I’m going to freeze one of my best friends out under a tiny social hail storm!’?”

OK, now, that image? Actually kind of funny. “Keep it up, Zest. Keep it up.”

The bonuses from my promotion are enough to get us rolling on a real nursery. Miko’s getting about ready to pop, so we’re just in time!

“So much for tiny. More to love, huh?” I do not sound soppy, or sentimental, or impressed at all. Promise. “I hope you mean the baby!” Miko mock-pouts. “You tell yourself whatever you want, dear. Something-something-never-be-defeated, right?” We both have a little chuckle about that. I think the baby does, too -- “Hey, that’s the kick! Hey there, kiddo. You be nice to your mother.” “Huh. We’ll have to figure out what we want them to call us. ‘Mother’’s a little stuffy for a cute girl like me, don’t you think? I could be like how I called my mother. I’ll think about it, though!” “Let me know what you pick. I can’t say I’m particular.”

While I’m at work (and I know this because I do not miss the good gossip), Miko and Akira end up talking a little. They haven’t for a couple of days, so it’s kind of a relief. Not that I talk to him more often than that. I’m busy.

“I feel like trash about...back then.” is what he started at. Now, despite my claims, I do not have the gossip for ‘back then.’ Might have to snoop. “I want to apologize. I should have respected you more.”

“Yes, you should have,” Miko says, her paintbrush swiping across the canvas. The baby is restless tonight, and she winces for a moment.

“You’re not like other people. I… I guess I just wish there was someone I could trust. Where the moment I turn my head, they’re not going to do who-knows-what with who-knows-who. Where I could be sure, deep down.”

“...I think you should give people a chance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a real happiness.”

He sighs, leaning his head to the cool computer screen. The screen flashes just a little under his forehead.

“I don’t want to give trust that’s just going to be broken. When you’re really with the one, you should know. But. This isn’t about me. I wanted to say I’m sorry. And, Miko… That I hope we can be friends again sometime.”

Miko almost leaps to it -- very nearly answers right away. And then, she stops.

“I’d like that -- but we’ll have to put a rain check, OK?... Or. Nnh! a water break check. Anyway.”

Just as I walk in the door, the baby starts coming, and we start rushing out to the hospital in a flurry of shouts and taxis. And adjusting taxi seats. And getting my hand crushed.

“Oooh… Nnnh. Baby, you are not… Making it easy… To get to the doctor!” Miko’s trying to keep a good sense of humor, even now. I’m glad I got home in time. I am. Sure. I’m not freaked out at all…Well… Maybe a bit.

I follow after her and the doctor into a surgery room, where things get down to delivering -- to delivering my heir. My generation two. My accomplice.

“Um, is that supposed to be involved? Because it looks like a bottle of glue. Does there need to be glue? Ahaha -- ahhh!”

If the doctor weren’t a quack!

Who lets a ghost deliver a baby -- they’ve already lost at keeping people alive: THEM! They have noped out! They have anti-lifed! This is the opposite of what you want, medically!

“

My wife’s heart is supposed to be inside her!

”

But after all the fuss, and all the screaming, there he is.

Our second generation, Kite Avyan.

“Welcome to the world, my precious little one! I think you’re gonna like it here. It’s really something amazing… Just like you.”

I thought I had it all under control; but he turns his head into my chest, and despite my better efforts, there’s nothing I can do but fall apart. He’s so perfect, my boy. He’s heavier than I thought he’d be, a warm weight, all surrender in his sleep. All tender, delicate trust. Something I never want to lose; something I never have to.

“Strap in, kiddo. Because we’re in this together, all the way.”

[noona-la-la-la]

Noona, do you have any bad interview experience to share? I went to an interview today. Once I entered the room, before I sat down the interviewer already asked me to start introducing myself & that she’s busy so I need to make this quick 😐 guess what I actually waited 30 mins because the previous interviews overran The whole time she was keeping a straight face and talking in monotone, also does not show interests in my work (I’m a graphic designer) 1/2

She asked why did I quit my last job so I explained that because there wasn’t a career path and she immediately goes “Same here!” I explained to her that I’m well aware of it but I’m interested in working for a museum. At the end, she showed me 5 exhibition leaflets they’ve done in the past and asked me what I like about them. Tbh I started criticizing the designs in my head the minute I started looking at them (because of my designer instinct lol)

All I could think about was things I didn’t like about the designs When she saw me quickly flipped through all 5 leaflets, she literally says - are you done? Are you ready to talk about it? (in a rude manner) I was like - hmm am I supposed to talk about what I like? And she says I can also say things that I didn’t like LOL so I started criticizing about one of the leaflets, I listed a few points and she suddenly goes - Then what do you like about them!? 🤡

After the interview,I looked up her name on google I found out she’s a senior designer so I assume she approved those leaflet designs even if it may not be designed by her She might be pissed that I’m criticizing her works 😂 I feel so dumb cause she simply looks like an old housewife to me I thought she’s some supervisor who doesn’t know design at all LOL Im always being honest at interviews and sometimes it’s hard to filter what I say when I’m unprepared😅 I need help

1.  That company doesn’t deserve you (or anyone else) if they are going to treat the people who interview with them that poorly.  Interviews are a two way street -- meaning while they are interviewing you to see if you fit, you should also be interviewing them to make sure this is a place you would really want to work.  Would you really want a woman who was so inconsiderate to a job candidate to become your boss?  

2.  Pretty much everyone has blown an interview at some point or another.  It happens and being unprepared for the question is one of the main reasons people give less than stellar answers.  That’s okay.  So consider this practice and think about what might have been a better way to answer that question.  Next time someone asks you something similar, you’ll be prepared.

As for my own bad interview stories?  Oh, man, I have MANY stories I could tell.  Also, I’ve often thought that if I ever wrote a book for money - it would be about interviewing.  I have tremendous experience in this area.

To keep it manageable - I’ll put the rest of my thoughts under the cut.

How about the time I interviewed for a job and the recruiter was describing some of the new business practices and technologies they were adopting and I said, “I think it’s great that Company A is embracing these new, progressive approaches to business problems.  So many of the companies I’ve interviewed with rely on old-fashioned approaches because they are comfortable with the status quo.”  AND SHE FLIPPED OUT ON ME!  She said things like “What’s wrong with being old-fashioned?  This company was based on old fashioned principals like hard work and loyalty.  Our founder believed in doing things the old fashioned way!” 

Or the time I went in for an interview with Company B, met with a couple people, was there for almost 90 minutes and then they excused themselves.  They left me alone in the interview room when all of a sudden some other guy comes in and says he is the Director of Sales and that the previous interviewers thought he should talk to me because of my background.  Apparently they thought that I might be a good fit for a job on his team ( a job that I didn’t apply for) . So this guy proceeds to start interviewing me for a completely different role and I don’t even understand what it is.  No one is even bothering to ask me if I’m interested in doing sales (I’m not, FYI) and I’m completely unprepared.  He and I spoke for maybe another 40 minutes when  the original interviewer/hiring manager comes into the room and asks to speak to the Sales Director.  They excuse themselves and go out into the hallway to talk AND I CAN HEAR THEM.  The original hiring manager asks the Sales Director why he’s wasting his time talking to me because the original interviewers already decided that they don’t like me and don’t want to hire me.  So the Sales Director pops back into the room to grab his notebook and says to be that an “emergency” came up and he has to go.  So I’m alone again, for maybe 10 minutes when the receptionist opens the door, pops her head in to say the hiring manager to her to tell me “That you can leave now” and then she pops back out and is gone.   I gather my stuff and walk out of the interview room.  It’s like 6:30pm on a Friday, the building is now empty, it’s a huge office building and everything looks the same and I’m completely lost because it was a number of twists and turns when they brought me to the interview room and I end up wandering around this empty office for a while until I stumble upon the lobby.  The receptionist is already gone and a security guard had to unlock the door to let me out.

Or how about the time that I interviewed with Company C and the interviewer asked me a question about the most creative way I’ve ever solved a specific type of business problem.  She really emphasized the “creative” part of the question, so I knew she wanted something way out of the box.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t really prepared for that, so I started to tell her the first thing that came to my mind... and it was a doozy!  I start telling her this story which includes hiring a bunch of strippers and half way through telling her this completely inappropriate story, I realize that I don’t know how to end it because in real life things did not turn out well and included people transporting controlled substances across state lines, some minor theft, and a few people arrested for prostitution. The moral of the story was that not all creative ideas are good ideas.  Not exactly what the hiring manager was looking for and needless to say, I didn’t get the job.

So these were all terrible experiences - some my fault, some there fault. I’ve got dozens more examples of interviews gone bad.  It happens to everyone.

But these were also good learning experiences.  Every time an interview goes badly, I walk away a little more knowledgeable and a little more competent at interviewing.  I just recently told a relative of mine who is looking for a new job that he should apply for a few jobs that he doesn’t really want just for the interviewing practice.  Because if you haven’t done interviews in a while, you can assume that the first few might be a bit awkward as you work out how to present yourself and your experience in the best way.  So it’s better to do a few interviews with companies where you won’t care if they don’t hire you - just to get the practice in.  You don’t want to turn yourself inside out to try to fit what you think a company wants, you still need to be your natural self.  But there are ways for all of us to make our natural selves come across as the more professional and business savvy version of who we are.  But that comes with practice -- and lord knows, I’ve been in the business world for what feels like 10 million years now and I’m still learning how to be the better and more professional version of me every day.

Also, if you’ve read this far... I have an epilogue on those three bad interviews:

Company A turned out to be too old fashioned after all.  Their business changes didn’t really take effect the way they wanted them to and now it’s become such a miserable place to work, they are losing talent rapidly.  How do I know?  I have hired multiple people from that buisness - they are very talented and all tell me the same horror stories of what it was like to work there.  So thank god I didn’t get that job.

Company B went bankrupt.  The original hiring manager, who treated me so unprofessionally eventually went on to be a vice president at a service company who is a vendor to the place I work now.  She was terrible at her job and we just fired her and her company from ever doing business with my current employer ever again.

And company C?  I didn’t get job after telling them my awful stripper story.  However, a few years later, I applied for a job with them again... and they are my current employer.  They work me like a dog, but I’m generally happy with my workplace and my coworkers, I’ve been promoted once already and I’m well compensated and treated with respect. 

The moral of this story... karma is a bitch and not every lost opportunity is lost forever.

Good luck with your job search!

[juvellita]

messy kbtbb character analysis

So… Let me just say that this is going to be LONG and MESSY post. I will try my best to make an analysis of all Kbtbb characters. Eisuke’s might be the longest, just because know about him more than any other bidders. This is more geared towards to those people who still have negative misconception about KBTBB. I get it. Their season 1 prologue did not give the best impression of those guys. I want to give you an insight of characters’ past, and why they are the way they were when MC first met them. PLEASE feel free to express your thoughts/ add on the comment section/reblogging! Let me know of what I am missing from character. I want to hear your analysis of characters too.

MORE UNDER

First things first. Let’s jog back to season 1.  I know MANY people did not like this game in the beginning because how it hinted on human trafficking. Let me clear this out first; when Eisuke and other bidders created the auction, they made a rule of not selling any human in an auction, unless they are willing to be sold. This is mentioned in Episode 0: The Promise substory.  

That’s not all though. Bidders approached mc in almost..inhuman manner. They treated her as a weird creature that they have never seen before.  Why do you ask? All bidders have some sort tragic/traumatic past that cannot be easily cured. I have mentioned this briefly in my “short bidder’s complexity summary” post, but every single one of them has a reason why they cannot trust anyone that easily. Let’s look at each character in depth.

Let’s start with Ota and Eisuke, since these two characters were the MOST controversial characters when they were first released ( I apologize in advance if I miss anything for Ota. I have played his route every now and then, but I never actually read all his stories). WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD if you haven’t read any of their stories yet. Also… ALOT OF FAWNING UNDER EISUKE’S

First, Ota Kisaki (The Angelic Artist).

Essential Question: Why does he treat MC like a pet at first?

He was an unique artist ever since when he was little. No one acknowledged his art, except this guy named Doi (I believe), who was an artist.  He keeps encouraging Ota to continue with his art, regardless of how others thought his art was so weird.  This kind of event makes Ota ABSOLUTELY trust in Doi. He was the only one who supported his art preferences. Why is there reason not to trust him? Until… Doi plagiarized Ota’s work, and claim it as his own. At that time Doi was much of bigger artist than Ota, so Ota didn’t have any power to fight back that it was a lie. This.. made tragic mark on him. He refuses to trust anyone. I mean, it’s arguable right? Doi WAS the only one he trusted (before MC came into his life of course). He then creates this facade of “Angelic Artist”. It was his way of separating between the real him and the expectations from the others. That way, he wouldn’t  have to go through the pain he went through again. When he first met MC, he called her ‘Koro’. The name ‘Koro’ was a way for him to put a distance with MC, since he refused to trust anyone after his most trusted companion betrayed him. A lot of people argue that how he treated MC like a pet was inhumane. I understand this also, because trust me… I was one of those people. However, the main purpose for calling her ‘Koro’ wasn’t to treat her like a pet. He was simply..afraid of getting close to another person and being hurt again. Koro starts out as a way to put boundary between MC and Ota. As the season continues, it becomes affectionate nickname for MC.

Eisuke Ichinomiya.

Essential Question: Why is he inhumanly cold?

Oh man, You all know how much I LOVE Eisuke (I mean.. Just look at my shet spam on my blog). I will try my best not to only fawn over him in the duration of this post.

Where do I even begin with Eisuke? I mean, I think his first description was “Cold-hearted billionaire”. He probably went through A LOT during his career.  But If you still think he is cold-hearted, please look at all my screenshot spams. At least to Mc, he turns squishy marshmellow. When MC gives him that puppy dog eyes or when she smiles at him with uncontrollable happiness, there is NO way this man can say no to her.

In his Childhood Promise Substory, Eisuke only wanted power to save and protect ones he cared about and himself. He might come off as only selfish person in the beginning, but as story progresses on, you will know that is not true. He has difficult time expressing things in words.

Let’s first look at his family background. “Ichinomiya” isn’t his actual biological name. When he was young, his family went bankrupt. His father disappeared (Eisuke finds him again in season 5), and shortly after his mother’s health got worse and passed away.  He got separated from his little sister (who he finds again in his s1 sequel), and Akira Ichinomiya adopts Eisuke, who was good friend of his biological father. Before meeting MC, everyone who approached him, only approached him for his power and money. Up until his S1 epilogue, he used to have a groupies, who were obsessed with Eisuke. When he sees them shet talking about MC, he threatens them he will ban them if they keep on creating a scene in his hotel (and we never see them again after that).  Anyways, back to my point. These groupies only loved Eisuke for his money, power, and looks. Did they know a single thing about Eisuke? I doubt it. He only kept them around because he needed someone to numb his loneliness(numbing doesn’t solve any problem. He knew this, but regardless, he needed someone.). But beneath that cold facade, he was an absolutely lonely person. No one really loved him for he was.  He was craving for genuine love, but no one gave that to him.. He have gave up on the idea of getting that love..Until Mc came to his life. MC was the only one who was able to see through Eisuke, and realize he is lonely. She never approached him for his power or money, and he realizes that her actions and thoughts toward him are genuine.  (Seriously… read his pov if you have not, because they are the VERY reason why I LOVE Eisuke so much.) But he sometimes have wonders about what love is, since he was never used to being loved so genuinely by someone. In his season 3, he has doubts that his adoptive father actually loved him. Everyone around him only saw him as a man ‘capable’ of handling business. However, when he confronts Akira about it, he says that he wanted Eisuke to understand family love. He also claims how he is happy that Eisuke has finally found someone who can love him unconditionally (referring to MC).  Then throughout multiple s3 substories (such as his bday story, under his protection, etc ...), you can see how the definition of ‘love’ changed for him. At first, he thought it was unnecessary thing (meaningless to say aloud). However as him and mc gets close in relationship, he notices expressing love for someone you love is important (hint s5).  We also see that he is emotionally unstable. Mc is his big emotion supporter. You can see his emotion breaking through BIG TIME when MC gets in life or death danger (refer to my Desperate moment post if you haven’t already).

I want to also bring this to light: Eisuke has so many enemies. I don’t know what stuff he really did, but I can say some are just falsely created by some influential being.  If you ever played Eisuke’s s2, do you remember how Shuichi and Hikaru approached Eisuke? Hikaru was assigned to assassinate Eisuke, believing that he was the one who killed his parents. Same goes for Shuichi. He at first believed that Eisuke was behind everything that happened to his family. However, after s2, they somehow realize that that is not the case. Some mastermind was controlling them to get rid of Eisuke. This still reminds mystery. I really hope they cover this in his s6 or s6.5.

A lot of thing that I mentioned for Eisuke, I have already mentioned through my screenshot posts, or other bloggers have said it already. It might sound repetitive, but I cannot enforce enough, how much mc means to Eisuke. She is basically his life, one existence that will drive him insane if MC is in trouble in any way (but then again, Eisuke is so extra sometimes LOL). He will literally do ANYTHING to make happy. Mc isn’t a selfish person, so this won’t EVER happen but, in theory ( I DID SAY IN THEORY, SO DON’T FREAK OUT), if she ever wanted someone to disappear because they have hurted her ever since she was little, Eisuke will not hesitate to make that come true (actually he will do it before she even mentions it). He believes that anyone who makes mc sad should not exist (at least not close to them). I mean… he even says this to his own son LOL.  He will not hesitate to keep mc in his penthouse all day if he feels like she is in danger. Only reason why he doesn’t do this much anymore is because he knows how much mc doesn’t like that . This is where yandere eisuke came from because of how he is sometimes abnormally OBSESSED with MC. I mean...installing security cameras all around his hotel JUST for MC’s safety (and to check on her ...for his benefit).  This just proves how all sense of his ‘logic’ flies out of window when it comes to MC. He perhaps might not know the ‘normal’ way to express his love, but he tries his best to show MC that he loves her. And mc knows this.

Any ways… I am gonna end my Eisuke post here… if I continue I will end up fawning more over him.  SORRY I WAS SUPPOSED TO ANALYZE. I ENDED UP FAWNING

Baba Mitsunari

Essential Question: Why is he known as ‘playboy’?

There are many theories that this man has depression, which I honestly can see why. He is the nicest bidder in everyone’s route. He usually says hi to MC first when she comes in the penthouse, and cheers her up when she is seriously feeling down.  He is quick to lend a hand when any of bidders are in trouble.  His man has a tragedy… of not being able to truly love anyone, because he is scared that his ‘thief’ title will hurt the one he loves. He also wants to be loved like Eisuke and Ota, and give love, but he is SCARED.  Unlike Eisuke or Ota though, Baba has tendency to deprecating himself.  He once genuinely fell in love with this girl named Cynthia. However, he decides to leave her because he was scared that he would hurt her because of his career as a thief.

I have said it once, but I honestly think Baba is underestimated as a character. If I look at him closely enough, he probably is saddest character in KBTBB. Sad i mean…only one who probably realizes that he is sad. Other bidders are too prideful or disinterested in emotional feelings before mc comes in. Baba is probably the only character who is fully aware of what he is feeling even before mc coming into his life.  I do not know much about Baba, but I can tell this much from observing him in Eisuke’s route. He only became known as ‘playboy’ because he knew he wasn’t able to stick to one woman without hurting them.  Instead, he tries to numb his depression by having a lot of women around him, which obviously doesnt work.

Mamoru Kishi

Essential Question: Why is he so darn lazy?

You might not believe it but he used to be very passionate about his career. He had a investigation partner named Minami. However, one day, for some mysterious reason he died. Mamoru has made several attempts and proposals to solve the mystery of his death, but interpol has rejected his idea every time he proposed it. They all thought it was unnecessary to reveal that case was closed (in his route, we figure out Aida was behind all this).  From that point on, he realizes how crooked and ‘good for nothing’ his job is, and he loses all motivation to work hard.  I have never played his route so I cannot say much about him. But he is very skilled detective/policeman. He may not seem like it, but the way he gets Eisuke all those confidential information about interloper… i mean, I don’t think normal policeman can do that! In Eisuke’s season 5, Eisuke worries about Mamoru’s job in danger if he went such length to help him. But he assures him that it is fine since he is known as ‘slacker’ and so no one cares about him. He would go full length to uncover the truth once he sets his eyes on something.

Soryu Oh

Essential Question: Why is he allergic to women?

I mean… mainly because of his mafia title. Just like baba, he doesn’t think he deserves ordinary happiness nor could ever get one because of his career. Most times, his job is life or death matter.  He has strong sense of what is ethical and what is not. He would hate to put anyone in danger because of him. Beneath that cold exterior, he is probably most normal person amongst the bidder. He is also the one who is (personality wise) close to describing mc. When he meets mc, and sees her devotion to stick something that she set her mind on, he falls for her.

I also think one main reason why he hated women is because how they were ‘used’ to secure his life. In one of Eisuke’s substory, Soryu mentions that he lost his virgin because it was ‘life or death’ matter. Although it is clearly not addressed, there might be some unspoken reason why he used not like women.

FYI... I typed this out on word doc first... it turned out to be 5 pages...

[internethorrorfan]

Commentarypasta: Slenderman vs. Eyeless Jack (originally posted on deviantart in 2017)

You know what's almost as creatively bankrupt as Jeff the Killer wannabe stories and Slender Mansion fics? Versus stories. Today's gem, hailing from the Spinpasta wiki, is one such story. Because why write original suspenseful horror stories or possibly put a new creative spin on an older idea or character when you can just take two unrelated creepypasta icons and have them lay a WWE smack down on each other, right? Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story... Slenderman vs. Eyeless Jack by OptimusPrime27 There are legends of the Slender Man. Some say he's a kind nurturing father figure that lives in a big beautiful mansion full of other monsters and killers as one big happy loving family who do all sorts of cute family activities with each other when they're not going on mass murder sprees. Nobody over the age of 12 believes such things.

He is a dark spirit. He is truly evil. Wait, what you mean to tell me is that the murderous, child snatching eldritch abomination who forces people to become his slaves in order to commit horrific acts on his behalf is evil? You don't say? He stalks people and murders them. But now he is gone. He's been gone. People don't know why, but he just... disappeared. Everything changed after the Fire Nation attacked. One day, he just left. Never to be seen again. Except in terrible fanfiction written by pre teen girls. Only a few people still remember him. This sentence is so easily contestable that I won't even bother. I wouldn't even know he existed if it wasn't for that dark, dark night... and that video-game that made. That sort of helped... This joke might have been funny is the grammar wasn't messed up.

You see, Slender Man disappeared because less people feared him. This sounds awfully similar to Freddy's plot in Freddy vs. Jason. Instead of that dark, mysterious force he became that cool, popular guy. "Yo Slenderbro, pass me that brewski when you're done droppin' those phat beats!" Just that guy. People didn't care how terrifying he really was, they just liked him. What if people liked him because he was terrifying? I like Slenderman because he's creepy.  Creepy if done well at any rate. Video-games, toys, shirts, Hold the phone here, since when has there official Slenderman merch? he was everywhere. Less people feared him, and he became more of an internet icon than a despicable creature. So you can't be a despicable creature and internet icon at the same time? Someone better tell [insert well known internet personality who gets a lot of hate here)! More people knew him and they learned to stay away from him, how to avoid him, There's no official way to avoid Slenderman. and thus he didn't get their souls. Many people don't know this, but Slender Man needs souls. Many people don't know this because you completely made it up. They give him energy. He harvests them. He feeds of them. He lives. But now people don't fear him at all. He's just that guy.

That guy. He's just that guy who stalks people, kidnaps kids and drives people insane. Ya know, nothin' special.

But you see, Eyeless Jack is a different story. A story so bad its own writer personally asked for it to be deleted from the creepypasta wiki.

Eyeless Jack is a dark, undead spirit. Says who? A young boy brutally murdered, his eyes ripped out of their sockets. A vengeful spirit, Eyeless Jack's a ghost now? he spent the rest of his eternity getting his revenge. Which he accomplishes by eating random people's kidneys. Out to find the man who killed him. Until then, he could never truly be at peace. Less powerful and less famous, Jack was just a little kid compared to Slender Man. Which might have something to do with Slenderman being 6-10 feet tall. No match for this monster. Stories over! Goodnight everybody! Slender Man is basically the king of modern horror. I'm a huge Slender-verse fan and even I think that's bit of an overstatement. How can he be the king of modern horror anyway if supposedly no one takes him seriously or cares about him anymore? Creepy, mysterious. Slender Man has given existence to many wannabes and copy-cats like Jeff the Killer or Laughing Jack. Laughing Jack and Jeff the Killer have nothing at all to do with each other let alone Slenderman.

Slender Man saw potential in Eyeless Jack, and decided to use his superior power to manipulate the poor lost soul. This is literally just the plot of Freddy vs. Jason. One night, Jack was lurking through the forest, when Slender Man, now weak but still more powerful than Jack, appeared before him. Jack was shocked, but then the figure seemed to disappear into thin air. Jack turned around as Slender Man reappeared in front of him. Slender Man began to stalk the evil spirit as he ran through the forest. What sounded like static assaulted Jack's ears. He fell down and began to faint, everything else in the world fading away... Slender Man was now in control of Jack, and ready for the harvest. Now this is where I get involved. Me and my friends were having a sleep-over. It was a dark, rainy night. Lemme guess: You really wanted to write "it was a dark and stormy night" but you realized that was too cliché even for something called "Slenderman vs. Eyeless Jack" so you thought wording it differently would mask the unoriginality.  Newsflash: it didn't. We were watching a crappy, blood-filled generic horror film, yet we kept screeching. We didn't know what true horror was yet. It's certainly not this story, I'll tell you that much. Not yet. You could’ve removed those last two words entirely and just said you "didn’t know what true horror was. Yet". We heard the back door creek open, so me and my friend Anne went to go see. The suspense was killing us. Suspense from what? The door creaking open? Do you guys flip out every time there's a light breeze? The entire house was pitch black. Turn on the lights then. We stepped into the dark hallway and slowly stepped closer and closer to the door. We heard heavy breathing from behind the door. And...JUMPSCARE! We went to grab the door knob, and when we saw what was behind it, we shrieked in terror. It was just our friend Mark. You held the tension here for 1 sentence. He and his friends Brad and Chuck were here. The idiots tried to scare us. "They're gonna be dead soon is what I'm saying." Me and Mark are sort of more than friends, but not really dating. Just sort of... into each other or something. It's complicated. We watched the movie together, and the guys kept making fun of us when we got scared, but they themselves kept getting freaked out now and then. Suddenly, we heard glass breaking. Mark volunteered to go check it out because how we were such "chickens". His words, not mine. I'd say that last sentence was completely superfluous but this whole story is completely superfluous. He walked into the hallways, closing the door behind him. He saw broken glass on the floor. He knew somebody had broken in. He turned around to warn us, but saw a masked, hoody-wearing creature. I thought he was a spirit. Now he's a creature? The mask was blue, with deep, empty, black holes where the eyes were supposed to be. I asked myself this same question when reading the original Eyeless Jack but how can they tell he has no eyes when he's wearing a mask in the dark?

The creature grabbed Mark's throat, squeezing it tightly. Mark gasped for breath, but the grasp on Mark's throat increased in strength. Tighter, tighter, until Mark couldn't breathe. Mark closed his eyes and dropped down onto the ground as the creature finally let him go. The creature observed his corpse, as if marveling at his own work of demented art. Oh no, not Mark! He was such a well developed character that we knew so well!

It was half an hour later, and we were worrying. I went to go check on him and found his corpse. So all of you just stood there and waited for 30 minutes while a monster choked Mark to death instead of alerting the police? What truly wonderful people you guys are.  I nearly puked. There was no brutal damage or harm to it, but that's what scared me. In the movies it's always bloody and chopped up, nearly unrecognizable. But this was... was so real. Just a lifeless body there on the ground, nothing more to it. The police said he was strangled to death by... something. Poor Eyeless Jack always getting described as a "something". The finger prints on his neck Fingerprints is one word. Like, nobody writes "head aches" or "bed rooms" do they? were something odd. They tasted great! They scanned them and all, but the person they belonged to was murdered long ago. Jack Robins was a young boy who was brutally killed back in the 1970's. I sure am glad these cops committed every important detail of this decades old case to memory. His parents were on a date, and he was being babysat by a local teen trying to get some quick cash. You say that as if all teen babysitters aren't just looking for quick cash.

A strange man broke in while he was asleep and the sitter was busy on the phone. Being on the phone doesn't automatically cancel out all other sounds. I think she'd be able to hear someone breaking in. The man went through the house stealing everything he found useful. The sitter saw him and shrieked, only to be shot down by the robber. The robber found Jack and pulled out his carving knife. Jack saw him and shrieked. The robber, not wanting to get caught, shot him, and then cut his eyes out with the knife. Why? How could cutting out Jack's eyes possibly benefit him in any way? If he's trying to be sneaky then carrying someone's eyeballs around would be super easy to trace. There is literally absolutely no reason for this guy to cut out Jack's eyes other than "well he's gotta become Eyeless Jack somehow!"

I was shocked when I heard this. That poor kid. But what was the killer doing with his fingerprints? Was it a coincidence? You don't know what coincidences are, do you? Was the killer the same one who did this terrible, terrible thing all those years back, and the sicko kept Jack's hands with him? If the killer took Jack's hands the cops would've said that. How is that your first thought? Why would a robber cut off the hand of someone they murdered, keep it on their person and use it decades later to strangle some random person to death? I was scared. Me and my parents were staying in a hotel room since the murder, but I couldn't help but wonder if he was still in the house... Meanwhile, in the woods, Jack woke up. He saw that he was in Slender Man's body. I'm sorry, what? This is a body swapping story now? Why does "Slenderman vs. Eyeless Jack" need to be about body swapping? But more importantly, he actually saw. He discovered that Slender Man didn't just take over his body, he switched both of their souls into each other's bodies. I have so many questions. This story keeps calling Jack a spirit so how can he have even have a body/soul to swap? Since when did Slenderman have a soul? Didn't this story also say Slenderman ate souls?  How would swapping souls allow Eyeless Jack to see? How can EJ do all the things he does if he can't see? I have the sneaking suspicion that none of these questions will go answered. Jack, now able to see, used this to follow the Slender Man's foot prints to the house. The police were investigating the scene of the crime, and went into the basement. The entire house was totally dark. If the power went out it'd be nice of you to let us know that. The two police man walked slowly down the stairs, and entered the dark room. The basement was flooded up to the police men's ankles because of the rain. Our house was an old one and it was always in a really crappy condition. Get it remodeled it then.

They found the old light switch and flipped it, only to be attacked and killed by Slender Man in Jack's body. He took on the other cops as they ran down the stairs. Their bullets did nothing. The body may have been harmed, but it was just flesh and bones. Useless flesh and bones. If they're so useless why did Slenderman even do this whole body swapping thing in the first place? How does switching souls with Eyeless Jack benefit Slenderman in anyway?

As the battle in the basement was going on, Jack in Slender Man's body broke down the front door, searching for his impostor. He rushed down the stairs to confront Slender Man. Slender threw his knife into Jack's face, distracting him as he grabbed a metal pipe up from off the floor. He hit the already dazed Jack in the head, knocking him to the floor. Remember: Jack's in Slenderman's body. So according to this story Slenderman can be stabbed, dazed and knocked to the ground. Jack got up and pulled the knife out of his head, impaling Slender Man with it. Slender Man seemed to slow down for a bit, but no real harm was done. "Besides the gaping chest wound I mean." Slender Man tore the knife out and dropped it to the ground. It was useless. Slender Man hit Jack with an uppercut, grabbed him and threw him into the furnace, closing him in and turning it on. Jack struggled to break free, but Slender Man was holding him in with all his strength. Eyeless Jack's body is capable of picking up and throwing the body of Slenderman, who is a 6-10 foot monster with teleportation powers, tentacles, and psychic abilities. Ok then. Jack pushed against the furnace with all his might, and finally jumped out, tackling Slender Man over. He held Slender Man's face down under the water, trying to drown him, but Slender Man managed to push up and knock Eyeless Jak down. Wow, Slenderman knocked Eyeless Jack down so hard the c fell out of his name! Jack reached for a nearby tool bag and pulled out a drill, sticking it into Slender Man's face. He turned it on, and it began to cut into his face. Why is EJ trying to kill Slenderman when they've switched bodies? I assume the body swapping is the reason EJ is mad at Slenderman in the first place so why would he ruin his chances of ever getting his real body back? Guys, Eyeless Jack is drilling into his own face. Slender Man grabbed the drill and pulled it out, throwing it over onto the stair case. Getting shot, drowned and stabbed didn't kill him so cutting into his face with a drill probably wouldn't either. Shouldn't Eyeless Jack know the limitations of his own body? Slender picked up the carving knife, slashed Jack across the chest with it, and jumped up and cut a pipe above Jack's head. Tons of sewage poured down onto Jack, knocking him to the ground and covering him with the slop. Did the writer of this even know Slenderman's power set?

Slender Man left, leaving Jack to die. Slender Man grabbed a thing of matches on the kitchen counter, lit one, and threw it to the ground, burning down the building as he turned and ran out the back door. The entire house burnt up and collapsed in, crushing Jack completely and seemingly finishing him off. Slenderman is leaving his own body to burn to death. Slenderman of all beings should know fire doesn't hurt him! The police told me and my parents about what happened. The cops that were there were killed before any of this crap even happened. They didn't know anything about the two killers or what really went on, but they knew that the house burnt down. I was devastated, but I was hoping that... that THING... was killed in the fire. Can't be, the story's not over yet. Unfortunately. I thought it was all over. I wish it were all over so I could do something more productive with my time like watching paint dry. I told my parents I was ready to go back to school, but they hesitated to let me. We talked it through, and they decided I was okay.  What teenager wants to go to school?

The next day at school, my friends from the sleepover, Anne and Lauren, asked me what happened. I told them everything. Jack, how Mark died, the house burning down, etc.,etc. They were shocked. Everyone who overheard was shocked too. One kid approached us. He said that Jack never really died, and that he is still alive. Everybody that he was crazy, but he said that Jack's spirit still wanders the Earth, searching for the man who killed him. Who is this kid and how does he know any of this? The janitor saw all the commotion, and told the kid to go down to the principal's office. He turned to the rest of us and said to get to class. The principal told the kid that the legend of Eyeless Jack was just crazy talk.

Rumor spread that all these stories of monsters and ghosts and stuff was all actually real and the adults were keeping it from us, like some crazy conspiracy. This kind of conspiracy I hope. Now it was like a rebellion was on the horizon. How could these things really exist without anybody letting us know? It's our right to know these kinds of things! If they're trying to protect us it clearly isn't working because now Mark has been murdered! OK we get it author, you really like Freddy vs. Jason. Can you please quit rehashing plot elements from it?

I was angry. We were all angry. I'm angry because it feels like this story should be over by now. But we still had to carry on. The prom was coming soon, and I planned on asking Mark to go with me and maybe we could officially start dating, but then this whole crazy thing happened. Multiple people, including your own boyfriend,  have been brutally killed by supernatural forces and you're worrying about the damn prom? I went with Brad, Mark's friend, but I felt really guilty. Just because Mark was killed I went out with his best friend? It was messed up, I knew it. Yeah, taking your boyfriend's best friend to the prom the day after said boyfriend was murdered is pretty messed up.

Everything was fine at the prom, until... it happened. www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xe0Ba… Chuck and Anne sneaked away to make out or something dumb, and then he came. Obvious joke is obvious. They went over by the lockers and made sure nobody was looking, but then they heard footsteps. They thought they were caught, but it was much worse. That masked man that strangled Mark. It was here! It grabbed Chuck and held him up against the wall by his throat. Anne shrieked in terror as the creature stared into Chuck's eyes. Stared deep down into his soul. You'd think someone called "Eyeless Jack" would have a hard time staring at people. Then it took him and it threw him straight out the window. A car was driving by, and Chuck's body landed straight on the windshield, nearly shattering the glass. The principal and the gym teacher both came running to help us out, but they were no match. The masked man grabbed both of the two and hit their heads together, knocking them unconscious, and then he stuffed both of their bodies into a locker. He slammed the door, locking them inside, and then turned around to face Anne. He ripped a locker door off of the wall and hit her upside the head with it, knocking her down. Why is Slendy-in-Jack's body here in the first place? Doesn't he have better things to be doing than picking off stupid teenagers? She got up and ran, and the man... no, not a man... the DEMON rushed after her. Demon? Wasn't he a spirit earlier?

She ran into the gymnasium, where we all were, and told us to run. Too late. The creature bursted in and impaled her with a leg he tore off a desk. Ah yes desks: a common thing to find in gymnasiums. She dropped to the floor, and he tore the leg out of her corpse. We all ran out screaming, but some of us weren't as lucky. Me, Brad, Lauren, and the janitor all got out alive and took off in Brad's van. The janitor drove us away, and said that he knew about Eyeless Jack. What a totally non contrived coincidence that some random janitor at some non descript school knows all about Eyeless Jack, Slenderman and the conspiracy covering them up. He confessed to us, telling us that the kid from the hallway was right all along. He was privy to this information how exactly? They just didn't want kids knowing to try and keep them safe, but it clearly didn't work. As we were driving, a flaming man in a tuxedo ran out into the road,   Tuxedos and business suits aren't the same thing. and we accidentally hit him. The janitor thought it was a victim of Jack from the prom, He didn't notice that Slenderman was 6 feet tall and you know, lacking a face? so he rushed out to save him, but the faceless man got up and grabbed him, throwing him into the sky with all his might. We screamed in horror, and Brad leaped into the driver's seat, ramming over the man. So did the janitor come down or did he fly into outer space or something?

We drived off as it tried chasing us on feet, but we managed to escape. We were all scared, and none of us knew what was going on. I remembered the faceless tuxedo man, though. I could never forget him. It was the Slender Man. But he was real? Of course he's real! You've seen him attack people and you just ran him over with your car. UGH. We didn't know what was happening, You and me both. we just knew to get away as quick as possible. Meanwhile, Slender Man and Jack had a score to settle themselves. Jack (in Slender Man's body)arrived at the school to face his foe. A high school: truly the best place to stage the climatic showdown of your story.  The two saw each other, and nothing could stop them. Nothing else in the world mattered. It was just them, face to face again at last. Sure, Slender Man had won it the last two times, but now Jack knew better. Jack grabbed the knocked-over punch table, lifted it up over his head, and threw it right at Slender Man, knocking him over. It's damn confusing reading this and having to remember that EJ and Slenderman have switched bodies. Almost like it's pointless or something. Jack quickly ran over and started punching Slender Man repeatedly. Is EJ gonna use a single one of Slenderman's powers while inhabiting his body? Slender Man kicked Jack in the chest and knocked him over. Guess that answers my question. Slender Man started to kick Jack in the face over and over, even stomping on his head. Jack got up and overpowered Slender Man, picking him up and throwing him up on the stage. Jack ran over and jumped up, hitting Slender Man in the chest several times and damaging his decaying ribcage. Jack grabbed Slender Man by the throat and threw him down onto the ground. Jack grabbed one of the band's amps, lifted it up with all his strength, and dropped it down onto Slender Man. Jack picked up a bottle of water off the floor and poured onto his semi-crushed opponent, frying him completely. Eyeless Jack has apparently succeed in destroying his own body. Hooray?

Jack, victorious, left to find me and the others. We were at Brad's house, Can we please just stop with the constant POV and tense changes because this story is testing my patience as it is. and we went inside we saw his dad, dead, hanging from the ceiling by a rusty metal chain. NO! Not Brad's dad! He was almost as well developed a character as Mark! We were shocked, and Brad broke out crying. Me and Lauren let him have his moment, so we went in his room to discuss it. Lauren said that maybe somebody in the town was the one who killed him and that's why this is happening, but I knew it had to be something more. You think it might have something to do with those 2 monster guys running around? You know, the ones you killed your friend and that janitor right in front of you?

I mean, why was Slender Man there? Better question: why is this story still going? Brad walked in, still sad, and asked what was going on. Lauren told him her theory, but he didn't believe it either. Suddenly, a corpse was thrown straight through the window, crashing onto the foor. We all shrieked in terror as we saw the message. It was... written in blood on his chest! It said "If you yourself do not release than it will come to take a piece". "YOU ARE WRONG". He was spying on our conversation? How? Why? For what reason? Suddenly, Jack kicked the door down. Of course, he was in Slender Man's body so we couldn't tell it was Jack at first. How could you tell it was Jack after the fact? How do you know any of this crap involving Jack and Slenderman? He as holding the corpse of Brad's dad, and threw it right at Brad, knocking him to the ground. Brad screamed, and we all ran off, being chased by Jack. We got outside and into the van, but the tires were slashed. Suddenly, Jack ran out of the house and jumped up on the hood of the car, kicking the windshield. It shatter and broke open, and he reached in to get us. Brad kicked him in the face and we ran out, trying to escape on foot. Suddenly, a beaten up and bloodied Slender Man (in Jack's body) I think everybody knows they've switched bodies by now! ambushed us and stabbed Brad in the heart several times with his knife. We shrieked and ran off, when suddenly a car stopped right in front of us on the road. It was Brad's mom, home from shopping! How wonderfully contrived. She said she heard about what was happening and immediately left the store to get us! We drove off as the two monsters fought each other once again. Slender Man stabbed Jack in the face several times, but Jack was unharmed. Which Slenderman should know wouldn't work because it's his body. He grabbed Slender Man, lifting him up off the ground, and threw him into the streets. Jack charged at him, but Slendy kicked him in the stomach and then got up and punched his face several times. Jack overpowered Slendy and pushed him down to the ground, elbowing him in the face. The two struggled and pushed eachother around, until Slender Man managed to push Jack up and throw him off of him. Slender Man got up and ran off to find us, leaving behind Jack. Just finish him off already! There's no reason whatsoever to chase after these dumb kids!

We told Brad's mom what happened, from what happened to Mark, to Jack, to the house burning down, and what happened at the prom. She was depressed that her husband and her son were both murdered, and we were sad about all the murders too. "All these murders are a major bummer, man."

Suddenly, a truck rammed into the car and sent us off road into the forest. The truck chased us into the woods until we hit a tree and the car went tumbling down a path. We jumped out the first chance we got and watched in horror as the car rolled down the nearby docks and fell into the water. You're still alive...how, exactly? 

The truck came crashing after us, and Slender Man stepped out. He began to chase us, and we managed to get to an abandoned factory. We picked up a wooden plank and put in through the door handles, locking him out. If Slenderman was in his own body he could just teleport in the building. Hell, he could've teleport them outside the building if he had his old body. See what I mean about how switching bodies with Eyeless Jack doesn't benefit him in anyway? We went into another room so we wouldn't be able to hear the freak pounding on the door. We were terrified. There was no hope left. What could save us now? Hopefully nobody because all of you are such bland characters that I couldn't care less whether you lived or died.

Suddenly, Jack arrived. Slender Man turned around to face the creature, and was immediately kicked in the gut. He stumbled backwards and slammed into the door. Oh goody, another fight scene. Because we haven't had enough of those now, have we? He grabbed Jack by the throat and began to strangle him. He eventually just lifted Jack up by the throat and threw him down into the ground. He kicked Jack in the face several times, but Jack got back up. How do you kick a faceless man in the face? Jack grabbed Slender Man and threw him over into the distance. Slender Man saw a little canoe and picked up the ore, charging at Jack and impaling him through the ribs with it. Slenderman's body can apparently be impaled with a rock. Sure. Why not?

Jack pulled the ore out and hit Slender Man upside the head, knocking him down. Slender Man got up again, only to be smacked by the ore and sent flying. Slender Man landed on the docks, and Jack ran over at him. Meanwhile, we thought the coast was clear so we opened the door and looked outside, stupidly enough. We saw the two fighting on the docks and couldn't help but watch. Standing there and watching the two fight is obviously a better option than running away.

Jack hit Slender Man with an uppercut, knocking him over. Slender Man got back up and punched Jack in the face repeatedly, knocking him back a bit. Jack picked the ore back up and hit Slender Man in the face with it, knocking him down. Jack was serious now. This time...it's personal. He lifted the ore up above his head and pushed it down into Slender Man's chest. He kept stabbing him and stabbing him with it until Slender Man managed to get up and take the ore from him, throwing it into the water.

Lauren yelled out to us, pointing at a stick of dynamite she found. Oh there just happened to be a stick of dynamite lying around on these boat docks? Oh how convenient. What's next, is Brad's mom going to pull out a lighter she just so happened to have and use it to light the dynamite so they can kill Slenderman and Eyeless Jack? Brad's mom pulled out her lighter and lit it. I was joking! We threw it onto the dock as the two were fighting. This was it. Our last hope. Slender Man and Jack were brutally beating each other, and didn't notice the TNT. Suddenly, it finally went off, and it blew the two into the air. They went off into the sky, and crashed down into their watery graves. It was finally over! Oh thank God! Finally I can move on with my life! We were saved! We ran out to get back to town, but little did we know it wasn't over. Why not? Everything's been resolved. There's no reason to keep going.

Slender Man and Eyeless Jack awoke in a fiery pit, surrounded by a whole crowd of demons. They seemed to be chanting some weird spell, when a strange, creepy statue of Link from the Legend of Zelda series Oh come on! appeared before the two, and smiled deviously.

"Men..." he said, "What seems to be the problem?" You couldn't even have BEN say either of his catchphrases? Either "You shouldn't have done that." or "You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?" would have worked here. I sort of appreciate the shout out to one of the unused endings from Freddy vs. Jason but missed opportunity here, come on. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And that, my friends was "Slenderman vs. Eyeless Jack". I have but 1 question to ask: What the hell was the point of any of that? Slenderman eating souls, Eyeless Jack being a spirit, the town trying to cover them both up, Slenderman needing people to fear him in order to gain power and Eyeless Jack's whole backstory were all introduced and then forgotten about. None of the human characters were interesting and they barley impacted the plot at all. The body swapping was completely unnecessary and just made everything extra confusing for no reason and there were just way too many fight scenes. The whole thing just dragged. On the plus side the sentence structure was good and there were relatively few grammar mistakes. It's just that on top of all the other problems the whole premise was silly and it took itself way too seriously from the get go, which is my problem with most vs. fics to be honest.

[criminalmindsfeed]

March 21 2018, 6:00 AM PDT

Matthew Gray Gubler‘s dream of clowning around finally came true — even if it threatens to put a brief dent in the Coulrophobics 18-49 demo.

For this Wednesday’s episode of Criminal Minds (CBS, 10/9c), Spencer Reid’s portrayer stepped behind the camera for an 11th time to spin a tale of two brothers and their frighteningly different approaches to donning funny wigs and make-up.

Here, Gubler talks about tackling the well-trod ground of killer clowns, as well as weighs in on the BAU’s recent roadblock and Reid’s stint as college professor.

TVLINE | I was thinking that I last saw you on my birthday, August 1 at the Summer TCA party, and you already knew back then you were directing a clown episode. I did, and it went wonderfully well. For four years I’ve been trying to get a clown one happening. It was a tough nut to crack — or a tough nose to honk — for Criminal Minds because we’re not a supernatural show and the writers wanted to make sure that they could crack it from a psychological standpoint. We finally did, and couldn’t be more proud of the outcome.

TVLINE | At the time that I saw you, had you just gotten the word from [showrunner] Erica Messer that she would be writing this…? Erica wrote the first one that I directed [of 11], and we have worked together three or four times over the course of the show, so we have a lovely shorthand. She just was like, “What do you want to do?” I said, “Let’s finally make the clown one happen.”

TVLINE | You said… “Send in the clowns”? I love that. I wish I had!

TVLINE | Scary clowns have obviously gotten heavy play in pop culture over the past year or so. Was it almost intimidating, or simply a great challenge, to find a fresh spin? Good question. I’ve always been fascinated by clowns — I actually just graduated from clown school — so I have a very soft spot for them. I know what you’re saying about the recent interest, but they’ve always been pertinent to society, I think, for a lot of good. I’m in love with the concept of a clown because it’s very important to laugh at ourselves. I feel like every day we wake up and we put on this thin veil of what society tells us we need to do. We need to “wear a tie and a suit,” and pretend to be reserved, and not mess up, and not fall down stairs. And at the end of the night when we see someone doing that and bouncing back up from that — and maybe even doing it with a smile — it gives us, as a society, great relief and joy and happiness. I’ve always been fascinated by that aspect of it.

What’s as interesting to me is the fact that we love clowns because they’re naïve and they’re childlike and they’re unexpected and they don’t play by society’s rules, so there’s nothing more terrifying than the concept of someone like that but with a dangerous agenda. What happens when you put an axe into the hand of…

TVLINE | Someone who doesn’t “play by society’s rules.” Exactly. An unpredictable force, someone that maybe doesn’t understand, someone that’s so filled with wonder and enchantment that they don’t know what’s happening. It’s sort of like Frankenstein’s Monster, I think, in a weird way. He’s almost a clown, and I’ve always been interested in that interplay. Again, when I was 13 I used to dress up as a scary clown for Halloween….

TVLINE | Kirsten [Vangsness] told me you hosted a Clown Prom on set. I did! I had a clown costume contest and the crew dressed up. I’ve always been enchanted by it, so one thing that Erica and I were very careful to protect is I feel like there are a lot of great clowns. It’s almost like a double-sided emotion I have towards it, where I wanted to pay respect to the beauty and the art of sincere clowning and not just have it be something scary and “clowns are this and that.” [This episode] is really about the struggle between two brothers — one is a lovely clown who wants to entertain people and make people happy, and the other one is not, and it’s about showing both sides of that spectrum. The good that clowns bring to the world while simultaneously showing you how horrifying it can be if one of them runs amok.

TVLINE | Without revealing too much about why one of them “runs amok,” would you say his origin story is almost heartbreaking? It is. There’s a silent film starring Lon Chaney from 1924 called He Who Gets Slapped. It’s about a man who becomes a clown and he is just slapped in the face the whole movie and it’s a really beautiful story ultimately about love and sacrifice. It had a big effect on me so much so that I always try to challenge myself when I direct these episodes to do something that the show has never done before. For this one, we managed to make a three-minute, completely silent teaser. The beginning of the show is complete silence, which has never been done.

[As the episode unfolds] it’s about the death of an industry, which is something that I think everyone can, to a certain extent, identify with — whether it’s the loss of the horse-and-buggy as it was replaced by the car, or Uber taking over taxi driving….

TVLINE | Toys ‘R’ Us going bankrupt…. Exactly. Truly, the good guy [here] is a good clown; the bad guy is just dressed as one. I was very careful, because my heart goes out to preserving the wonderful things that clowns provide us, which is happiness and laughter, which to me is holy. I also as a director of course love the primal emotion of fear, so I always try with everything I do to couch it in those opposites. I always try to dress my UnSubs — or in this case do the clown makeup — in very light, welcoming, pastel colors, because I find when there’s that softness and sweetness to something, it becomes scarier.

TVLINE | I noticed that color scheme when I was cutting the photos for this feature. It’s the least threatening, visually, and that inherently makes the audience lean closer and feel a weird sense of comfort while simultaneously being scared. I love the world of clowns. I love them for laughter. I love them for scares. I love them for everything.

TVLINE | I think you’re trying to say is that you’ve delivered the most sympathetic portrayal of killer clowns. I would hope so. I always try to paint everyone as a real human and, if I can, for one split second make someone understand why someone might do something terrible like this. That creates an interesting mental challenge that engages the viewers.

TVLINE | Turning to this season as a whole, is the Barnes business all behind us now? Barnes is pretty neatly wrapped up.

TVLINE | Prentiss pretty masterfully threw Barnes (played by Kim Rhodes) under the bus last week. I was cheering from my couch. Kim Rhodes is incredible, so it was a real pleasure and honor to work with her. But that’s all done. The clown episode is a completely standalone episode, which is the kind I like to direct. Anybody can watch it for the first time and not know anything about the show and have a beginning, middle, and end that’s satisfying without any loose ends.

TVLINE | Lastly, I had to wonder: Did you get a kick out of the scene last week where Reid was teaching the college course and the female students were fluttering their eyelashes at him like he was Indiana Jones? You know what’s so funny? I love Reid and I’m very protective of him, and my pitch was the exact opposite. My immediate thought was he’s passionately giving this speech and you can tell that he loves what he’s doing, and then it cuts to the reverse and you realize there’s one person in the class. I’ve always seen Reid as sort of the ultimate outsider, so it was a little bit…. I think it worked [as written], I don’t doubt that it worked, but I kind of was hoping more for Reid to be more like I really am! [Laughs]