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docholligay · 4 years ago

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House Lights

@phrdycg sponsored this fic, with the prompt “Rin gives Futaba a pep talk” I’ve been toying with it all month, trying to get it right! Thank you so much!

Rin Miyamoto was well aware that most people would have considered her profession a failure, including many of those who shared it.

It was a cruel twist of the theater world that many of them who taught how to walk the boards of the stage had themselves been washed out of it. There was, for this reason, sometimes the edge of bitterness in the words of the teachers, advising the girls with a flash of jealousy for the ones they all knew would make a success, a flash of pity for those they knew would not.

Rin was one of the few who seemed to seemed to find it a calling. She had always been small, which had been a distinct disadvantage in getting the roles she craved, and she was a hard worker more than she had the natural light of a star descended upon her. It was almost a relief when she was offered the job at Seisho offhandedly, even though she knew what it meant. It was a chance to have a stable, nice income and life for her and for Ayaka, she had thought, and Ayaka had gone there herself, on the production side, so there was a certain amount of pride for both of them.

Even she hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much more than she ever had being on the stage.

But enjoy it she did, and now, in honesty, she would never go back to the life she had before, grasping for each role and gazing onto those in position zero. She had a spring in her step every morning as she packed up her bento, sure of the reward of watching these girls learn and grow every day.

This joy did not mean, however, that there was never some amount of tolerance that needed to be exercised.

Last week, it had been yet another dust-up between Claudine and Maya, that on-again, off-again that most students wish would remain off-again, and save them all some time and trouble. Rin had tried to express to the girls that dating another actress rarely turned out well, in her experience, and that all of class B was right there, as a saner and safer option, but mostly this went unheeded. She had to assume that there was some similar reason for Futaba to be sitting at her door with a hangdog look.

“Futaba,” she unlocked the door to the office room, “Can I help you with something?”

Futaba looked up at her, distracted, as if she might have forgotten she was sitting in front of the teachers’ door at all.

“I...yeah, I was just..” she looked up and down the hall.

“Come in,” Rin swung open the door and hung up her coat, “I’ll get water started for tea.”

Futaba had always been a bit of a mystery to Rin, in some ways. She’d come in following Kaoruko like a little puppy, and just from seeing that, Rin might have assumed that she’d never make it, but then she blazed through the auditions like a hot knife through butter, only to dull again as soon as she had made it, carrying Kaoruko around. She seemed to simultaneously long to be something more and be incapable of allowing herself to have it, in a way that might have fascinated Rin more deeply if she wasn’t already involved enough in the romantic lives of teenagers.

Rin poured the water into two mugs and set them down on the desk in front of Futaba, who took the handle of the mug and ran her thumb up and down it, staring at the mug, no, through the mug, silent as stone.

“So…” Rin ventured, sipping a bit on her tea, “..can I?”

“I don’t know. I--”

It spilled out of her suddenly, a realization that it was true, that she wasn’t sure if Rin could help at all or not. She rose to her feet, shaking her head, and started for the door.

“Futaba!” Rin found herself standing, half insulted by the waste of time this had all been, half concerned that there was something so much deeper than Kaoruko’s heat and chill amiss with the situation. “You can’t just--come back here, Futaba.”

Futaba slowly walked back to RIn’s desk, and sat down, Rin pulling at the edge of her blazer and straightening it before she sat.

“What is it?”

Futaba took a sip of the tea, considering, but she made no attempt to break for the door, which heartened Rin at least a little. Finally, she looked up.

“Do you think I can do it?”

Rin took a sip of her coffee and furrowed her brow. “Depends on what ‘it’ is.” Is it continuing to make me guess what’s going on? She thought, not unkindly, because the answer to that is no.

“The stage.”

It wasn’t the first time Rin had been asked the question, and it was always a loaded one. It meant so many different things at once. Sometimes, the question was, “Will I lose my nerve on the professional stage?” Sometimes it was “Do you think I can get work?” And sometimes even more it was, “Can I make my parents understand that this is a job worth having?” There were others, she supposed, but mostly they were all variations on those same themes.

“I think..” she chose her words carefully. It would be easier, to ask which of those questions she meant, but it was Rin’s observation that introducing the idea that there were multiple ways you could fail at the stage never improved much of anyone’s mood. “That you should think about why you’ve having doubts.”

It was an imperfect answer. There was no good answer to a question you didn’t fully understand. But Futaba seemed to turn the response over in her mind as she sipped her tea, seemingly ignorant to the non-answer it was.

“It’s just…” she looked over at Rin. “I know the roles I want. I think I can work for them, for me, not for anyone else, now. But people like Maya, they’re always there, right? And why would you want me when--you know--you could have her?”

Ah. That was the question. Rin had looked in the mirror, and asked it herself, years ago. She had asked it herself, and plunged forward anyway. She was a hard worker. That was maybe the best thing you could have said of Rin Miyamoto, that no one pursued a role quite like she had. That no one studied the theory and the work. But her voice was only average, and though she was a good dancer, she was short, and so some of the girls towered over her, which made casting directors look right over the top of her.

It was like looking at her young self, looking at Futaba.

What would she have, could she have, said to herself, all those years ago? Would she have told young Rin that she would never get anything approaching a lead role? That she would be stuck to the side for her entire career, before retiring to little fanfare to go teach? That there would be disappointments ahead, and it wouldn’t matter how well she learned every single line, because there were some things that she could not change, and those things would wash against her like a wave every single time?

Would she have told herself to give up? If she could save herself the time and trouble?

Futaba looked at her expectantly. She’d shown such growth in the last few weeks, such commitment.

“I think that you should make it their job to tell you no,” Rin nodded, “don’t say no for them. Show up. Work hard. Perfect every little thing you can. Every audition is your chance to convince someone. Maya can’t win every time.” Rin chuckled. “I think. Een if she can. She can’t try out for every show, right?”

Futaba smiled, and nodded. “She can’t play every role.”

“That’s right. There’s a dozen Mayas out there, Futaba,” Rin set down her drink, “And they have enough audience without you watching them all the time, too. Keep your eyes on your mark. Make them work for it.”

If it were up to Rin, there would be a limit on how many times someone could take the leads in a year. The other teachers argued that it was important for the girls to learn about the brutality of the stage life as early as possible, but Rin always wanted to counter that they were young, and there were plenty of chances for them to learn that some people did seem to hit every single pitch in life. Would it matter to Maya, to get another lead role? It was unfair to accuse Maya of not working her hardest, but it was not unfair to accuse her of expecting to win every role she attempted.

It would be arrogance, if she wasn’t so correct.

Futaba smiled and nodded, drinking down a large swallow of tea as she did so. She seemed, if not completely convinced that all was well, to at least be resolute in her decision to keep trying.

“Thank you,” she gave a little bow and set the glass down on the table, “sorry for bugging you. I was just thinking.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Rin shook her head, “If I’m not here to talk you through this, why am I even here? The confidence is the hardest part, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she nodded and picked up her bag, “I guess it is. Thank you, again.”

She turned to go, this time with a spring in her step, bag slung over the side of her now-straight shoulders. It was a good conclusion to the meeting, and maybe Rin should have left it alone, but she couldn’t. There was too much of her life behind her now, and if she could spare one girl the way she’d felt...

“Futaba,” she called after her, and was rewarded with a quick swing of the head, “I just want to say…” she thudded the end of her pen a few times on the desk in front of her, “I’m happy you’re really buckling down, with the stage work. You’ve got the talent. But I also, “ she considered carefully, “I also want to say don’t let the stage get in the way of being happy. There are a lot of ways to work in the theater, a lot of ways to be around it. It isn’t all position zero.”

I’m happier teaching than I ever was acting, she wanted to say. But Futaba’s furrowed brow told her that maybe that was too much--when you were this age, there was no stop between perfect accomplishment and crushing defeat. We start this world with so much of black and white, the greys only coming in as we learn to mix.

It would be impossible to explain to someone her age what it meant to come home to someone every night, how nice the simple act of sitting next to someone, cooking with them in the kitchen, how much seeing the girls grow as people, could fill you with something that was nothing like fame or adulation, that was so much quieter but so much warmer.

There were some things people had to discover for themselves. There were something that took time to unearth.

“Right.” Futaba said, thus proving every suspicion Rin had on the subject.

“You’ll do great.” Rin added.

She meant it. Maybe not in the way Futaba would have her mean it, but Rin realized, looking at her, that Futaba would be okay. There were dozens of ways to be a success, even if it took time to find them. Maybe she would find the stage. Maybe she would find home.

But as Futaba left the room, Rin looked back to her own life, and realized that for people like Futaba, and like her, there would always be some sort of path. You could only fail if you didn’t believe in a new way to win.

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madd-information · 4 years ago

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Have you watched Kati Morton's new video about Maladaptive Daydreaming? What do you think about it?

[intro]

For years, I believed maladaptive daydreaming to be a form of dissociation, but it could also be added to the DSM as its own diagnosis, since it does have its own set of unique symptoms. Either way, at this time maladaptive daydreaming is not listed in the DSM as a diagnosable mental illness.

I was concerned because her last couple videos on the topic were very confusing to watch and seemed to conflate MD with the inner-worlds of DID. It looks like she has done some more research on it and is going to make a more informed video. This is great and I deeply appreciate that she’s taking the time to do a proper dive into this.

The closest diagnosis would be DPDR, or depersonalization derealization disorder. And this is the diagnosis given to those of us who struggle with dissociation. [explanation of DPDR]

Gonna need you to source that Katie, I’ve never heard an MD researcher say something like this. When they talk about MD they call it a behavioral addiction with OCD features which is related to dissociative absorption (different from derealization and depersonalization, these two dissociative experiences are not particularly significant in MD, though they can happen.)

These experiences are extremely common. It's estimated that half of all adults have had at least one episode of DPDR. 50% of people. That is a huge amount of people.

Cool but not sure it’s at all relevant to the video topic.

Also, it's important to mention that in 2016, four researchers put together the Maladaptive Daydreaming Scale, or MDS. This is a 14-item self-reported scale, meaning that you as the patient answers 14 questions based on your own maladaptive daydreaming experience.

It’s a 16 item scale now, it was changed very early on and has been 16 for years. This is a very small and forgivable knitpick, just fyi.

The MDS focuses on the content of our daydreams, how intense the urge to continue daydreaming is, and how much it impairs our ability to function in our lives, and the benefits and costs of our daydreaming. I am not personally familiar with this scale, nor have I used it in my practice, but I've linked the research article in the description if you wanna learn more about it.

A good description, and here’s that link again for anyone who wants to read about the finer details of this scale.

When it comes to maladaptive daydreaming, it isn't just feeling out of body or environment. We can create very intense and detailed daydreams with plots, characters, and very lifelike issues and storylines. Some people will get the plots for their daydreams from their real lives, while others can create a utopian place unlike their current experience.

Yep, decent overview of content, though content doesn’t matter that much. Also, use of “we”. Is Katie Morton an MDer or was this a creative choice? I don’t know, just a passing thought.

We can find ourselves staying in these daydreams for various amounts of time. And some of my patients have reported staying in them for hours. And many of you have let me know that you struggle to get out of them at all, spending days in this other life that we've created.

Yep, good overview, but more importantly she’s listening to her patients and the feedback of MDers in her audience.

...there are many causes for this, and the first I wanna address is trauma triggers. If we've experienced a trauma in our life, things that remind us of that time or situation can pull us into a flashback, cause us to dissociate, or in many cases push us into our maladaptive daydreams.

When our brain and the rest of our nervous system feels overwhelmed and unable to deal with what's going on in the moment, it can pull us out of our current situation through dissociation. I always talk about that, like our brain pulling the ripcord. And it can also utilize maladaptive daydreaming. It's a way to cope or get through an overwhelming situation when we don't have other skills to help calm our nervous system down. So we just rely on what we know, and that can be daydreaming or dissociating. It's almost like this coping skill protects us from having to feel traumatized again and so it takes us away, you know, drops us into a much safer and happier place.

Trauma is always talked about first when people do overviews of MD. She’s not wrong but just to add more information; about a quarter of MDers report trauma, the other 75(ish)% don’t. It’s a significant number but trauma is not the only pathway to MD. Sometimes people walk away from these videos feeling like “well, I don’t have any trauma, maybe I don’t really have MD”. That’s not a comment on what Katie has presented, she does go into other things below, just adding on.

Another cause or trigger can be high levels of stress or anxiety. We can slowly feel ourselves become more and more overwhelmed until our brain pulls us out of our reality and into a new one, aka our maladaptive daydreams. In short, we can want to stay in these daydreams to feel better and safer, but it can get in the way of us functioning in our life.

Yep

[audience anecdotes]

...Which is why even the term maladaptive daydreaming is used. Maladaptive means it's not providing adequate or appropriate adjustment to the environment or situation. So the daydreaming is only holding off the bad things. It's not actually making anything better or helping us process any of the upset. It's really just a temporary check-out, which can be helpful sometimes, but if it's happening all the time or making it hard for us to focus at work, school, or with our friends and family, we should find other, better ways to cope.

Exactly.

Which moves us into how we can better cope so that we don't get sucked into our daydreams for hours, days, or even weeks. And first up is mindfulness. Now, I know that term is overused now and super annoying but in order for us to know when we even need to use other coping skills, we have to know when the daydreaming urges are happening. So often we aren't aware of what we were feeling or thinking until it's too late and we're already pulled into our daydream. And at that point it's more difficult or even impossible for us to pull ourselves out. Therefore, we have to start being more aware of what we're going through.

[continues explanation]

Perfection.

And so next is figuring out ways to calm our system down. This can take the form of a distraction technique like going for a walk or organizing a part of our home, coloring, watching a show, playing a video game, you name it. These calming things could also be more process-based, things like journaling or talking to your therapist or a friend about it, or even using an impulse log. [Continues with calming things]

Good examples, MD researchers specifically recommend keeping a log.

We're also going to have to find some coping skills that we can use when we're starting to feel overwhelmed and wanting to go back into the daydream. Maybe we hold an ice cube in our hands, clap our hands, count the number of things in the room that are blue, brown, black… whatever works for you, do it.

Good stuff.

And it's okay for something not to work. We just have to try it to know and then move on to something else.

Important point to make, happy to see this.

Once we have a few things that work, write them down in your phone or on a post-it note so that you can see it and be reminded when you need it. We will also need to come up with some ways to pull ourselves out of the daydream. And I know this is gonna be harder and we may even wanna call upon helpful and supportive people in our lives to assist us.

Good advise.

We could, because it's our daydream, right, we could put a big door in our daydream and we can choose to go through it and pull ourselves out, or have people in the daydream that remind us of our real life and tell us to go back.

A good suggestion. Q, on the Parallel Lives Podcast (I can’t remember which episode off the top of my head), did something like this by turning to his characters and saying “ok, take 5 guys, we’ll pick it up at xtime”, and many people have found that to be a clever and helpful method.

Now, I know this is really, really hard… which rolls into my final tip, which is to work with a therapist to heal from the trauma or to learn how to better cope with the anxiety or stress we're feeling. Working to heal or process through the reason our maladaptive daydreaming exists in the first place will ensure that we don't need it anymore.

Absolutely seek professional support if you can.

... if we heal the issue we're struggling to cope with, the urge to use those unhelpful coping skills will go away altogether.

[outro]

I think this last point will frighten a lot of MDers. It’s probably the brevity of the video that didn’t allow her to really expand on this, and I certainly don’t want to put words into her mouth that she may not have intended. Don’t be afraid of losing your MD. “Curing” Maladaptive Daydreaming does not mean “I’ll never see my world again.” You’ll always have the capacity to daydream like this, you were born this way, but it *doesn’t* have to be maladaptive. Like overeating, you will never not eat, you will fix your relationship with food.

Good video overall, brief but accurate and includes the standard helpful advise.

#maladaptive daydreaming #actuallymadd

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liferoaming · 4 years ago

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My Favourite Films

It’s been a year since I have posted on my blog. After coming out of a toxic eight year relationship, moving four times, ending up in a Covid Camp and losing my father to cancer, I can honestly say this has been the most stressful year of my life.

What has helped me through? I have to say that it is films.

They can be beautiful, they can offer escapism but also realism. At the same time, they provide hope and a connection.

Since most of the world is in lockdown, I thought that I would make a list of films that are my favourite that can also help you through these tough times. I hope that you watch them and they offer the same kind of journey they have given me.

1. Lost In Translation

“Let’s never come here again because it will never be as much fun.”

My all time favourite film. No sex, no swearing, no violence...just pure beauty throughout. Directed by Sofia Coppola (The Virgin Suicides), this is a film about loneliness and questioning life during the early stages and older stages of adulthood. It follows Charlotte, a wife of a famous photographer and Bob who is a famous actor, during their time in Tokyo. They find a connection with each other as they question the path they are on, realising that they are both stuck. It offers humour and beauty, with a stunning soundtrack and an ending that you will think about for days after.

2. A Sun

“He visited me too.”

This Taiwanese film, made for Netflix, is directed by Chung Mong-hong. A film about regret and forgiveness, as it shows two life changing decisions made by a father’s two sons. Outstanding performances and breathtaking cinematography, this will take you on a journey about family dynamics with an unexpected twist.

3. Us And Them

“We have everything in the end, just not each other.”

A Chinese film directed Taiwanese singer-actress, Rene Liu. The story provides a journey into China’s coffin housing. The film follows a couples timeline of their relationship whilst facing economic doom. Filmed in black and white but also colour scenes, the film paces between past and present. You will need tissues for this film because it is a frustrating watch as the story shows their struggle for trying to make their love last through the strains of poverty.

4. Burning

“The morality of nature is like simultaneous nature...” If you have ever experienced social class anxiety or wish to understand how it feels, then this is the film for you. A psychological thriller with an unexpected, yet shocking ending. Directed by Lee Chang-song, the film tells the story of Jong-soo who runs his father’s farm. Jong-soo runs into an old school friend, Hae-mi and they start a relationship. Hae-mi takes a trip to Africa and returns with a male friend, Ben, who is confident and successful but has an unusual hobby. Only the hobby is actually a metaphor much darker than you could imagine. You can view Jong-soo’s lack of confidence and his inability to interact amongst the high earners, showing the isolation that most people these days experience. The North Korean radio shows fragmented youth, living on the edge of possible conflict and being unsure of the future. During the film Hae-mi goes missing and Jong-soo becomes suspicious and starts to investigate her whereabouts. The film although slow paced but slowly builds up, offers stunning cinematography which will have you gripped without giving too much away to its audience.

5. Imperial Dreams

“In the hood you carry truth in your heart while reality stays stashed outside...”. John Boyega gives an outstanding performance in this hard hitting Netflix film of a gangster that wants to change his path in life. With the system against him and being in debt to the state, it gives you the insight of how difficult it is for African-Americans that want to break away crime and life in the projects when everything you do is a constant struggle as the local police are always around the corner, waiting to arrest you. This beautiful and emotionally story offers hope and honesty as Bambi (John Boyega), continues to do everything the “right way”, even though everything is against him.

*I will keep continuing to update my list, please keep checking! Thank you*

#movies #films #lost in translation #us and them #asun #asian films

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jalapeno-princess · 5 years ago

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What if I never love again?

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst, Lovers to Ex’s, smut (If you are a soft Mark stan, I suggest you stay away this is a sad one)

Warning: Intended for 18+ audience

Word Count: 9.1k

Summary: Your relationship with Mark has been on the rocks lately so you decided if it would be best to end things with him before it would get worst. Since it was your last night together, Mark wanted to make the most of it and made love to you one last time.

A/N: Based on the song “All I ask” by Adele but I got inspired by Bruno Mars’ version when writing this. I didn’t meant to get all in the feels but I hope you all enjoy!

I will leave my heart at the door I won't say a word They've all been said before you know So why don't we just play pretend Like we're not scared of what's coming next Or scared of having nothing leftLook, don't get me wrong I know there is no tomorrow All I ask isIf this is my last night with you Hold me like I'm more than just a friend Give me a memory I can use Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do It matters how this ends 'Cause what if I never love again?

When he walked in to your shared apartment after a long day of work, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep. Mark was exhausted. He’s been working overtime for the last few weeks and it was taking a toll on both his mind and his body. Little did he know, it was also taking a toll on your relationship. However, although he was oblivious to the fact that your relationship was no longer what it used to be, he wasn’t surprised when he saw some of your luggage leaning up against the wall. He knew it was coming. You were leaving him, and he was aware that there was nothing he could do about it.

The two of you have been distant for the last three months with neither of you knowing where it all went wrong. It came out of no where and no matter how much you both claimed to love each other, love was just not enough anymore. You no longer acted like a couple. If anything, your relationship felt like a chore.

The two of you fought more often over such minuscule stuff. The dirty dishes left in the sink, him leaving the toilet seat up, not picking up after your dog Milo and no longer telling you where he was never really used to bother you. But as the days went by, simple tasks he failed to do began to frustrate you more and more. Then came the lack of intimacy. It wasn’t just the lack of sex. Sex wasn’t everything in your relationship, although whenever the two of you did make love, it was always a mind blowing experience. You and Mark were known to be very clingy. There was one point in your four year relationship where neither of you could keep your hands off of one another. Your friends had to sit in between the two of you whenever you’d have outings just to prevent the two of you from touching each other so much. These days, you’d get a kiss on the forehead if you were lucky; and what upset you, was the fact that he didn’t seem to be bothered by the distance.

He seemed to be fine with the fact that your relationship was not what it used to be. It was common for couples who have been together for a while to be independent sometimes, but the current state of your relationship and the way it was falling apart had nothing to do with independence. Mark took a couple of seconds to breathe and take everything in before making his way in to your room. When he walked in, his eyes immediately landed on your tiny frame. It was then in that moment that he realized how much weight you’ve lost. He hated the thought of your relationship being the reason for your unhappiness.

He stood there, watching you as you packed and he could feel his heart break with every piece of clothing you folded in to your suitcase. Once he heard you sniffle, that was it for him.

“Hey.” You turned around in shock. You weren’t expecting him to come home so early. He had a tendency for coming home in the wee hours of the morning. That’s why you decided to start packing your things. You didn’t want to leave. You’ve been contemplating your decision for weeks now; but you could no longer stay in a relationship you weren’t happy in anymore. As much as you loved Mark and wanted things to work out between the two of you, you knew things were going to remain the same even if you were to stay.

How could you stay when the spark was no longer there? When looking at him no longer sent butterflies to your tummy? When hearing him call your name no longer sent fire to your bones and his touches no longer sent shivers down your spine? There was no point in staying in a relationship where your hearts weren’t completely in it anymore. You didn’t know what he was feeling. Mark always had a hard time communicating his feelings. Especially when it came down to your relationship. So you could never tell what he was thinking or what exactly was on his mind.

“Hi.” He slowly walked over to you and motioned towards your suitcase.

“Where are you going?” Although he wasn’t one to be vocal and to speak up about things that were bothering him, you could always read him by his facial expressions. There was a hint of pain in his eyes followed by curiosity. The sight of him looking so sad broke your heart even more than it already was. Mark was a very sensitive person. You’ve seen him cry many times during the duration of your relationship. One time, the two of you were watching Moana and before you knew it, you felt something wet drip on to your shoulder. When you went to see what it was, you smirked at the sight of Mark’s eyes tearing up. His sensitivity was one of the things you loved about him. He was extremely soft, very kind with the biggest heart.

You missed the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. As the years went by, time cruelly turned him in to a man you could hardly recognize. Although you’ve seen him cry many times, you’ve never seen him cry over you. He never really had a reason to. Everything was going so well between the two of you. You were the picture perfect couple that all your friends and even some of your family members were envious about. Hell, your mom started planning your wedding only three months after you and Mark started dating. Unfortunately, it seems that all good things come to an end and your relationship seemed to be one of them.

“I’m leaving you.” The quiver in your voice didn’t go unnoticed to him and he felt as if someone stabbed him in the chest once those three words left your lips. It was obvious you were leaving, but he wasn’t going to let you go without knowing the reason.

“Why?” You noticed him sink down on his knees and made his way next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him trying to reach out for you but pulling back before getting to do so. A huge part of you wanted him to pull you in to his embrace while rocking you back and forth and telling you that things were going to be okay. That he would try and fix your relationship and that he didn’t want you to go. But it was too late. The damage was done and there was nothing he could say or do to change your mind.

“You don’t love me anymore. Our relationship isn’t the same. It’s suffocating me. I’m not happy Mark. I haven’t been happy for months and I know you haven’t been either. So why are we continuing to set fire to an already put out flame? Why are we allowing ourselves to waste our time in a relationship that practically no longer exists? We hardly ever see each other anymore and when we come home, it’s like we’re strangers. We don’t acknowledged each other’s presence, we don’t kiss, hug, hell I can’t even remember the last time we sat down and actually talked. I tried to lie to myself; couples go through rough patches all the time. It’s only natural. But this rough patch has been going on for months Mark and it doesn’t seem to bother you. It’s been killing me but you obviously aren’t phased by how we’ve been acting towards one another. I’m tired Mark. I can’t continue living like this. It’s affecting both my mental and physical health and even my work ethic. My boss threatened to fire me the other day if I didn’t get my shit together and that’s why I made the decision to leave.”

You released a frustrated sigh before continuing where you left off from. It felt like a huge weight fell from your shoulders as you told him everything you were feeling. You couldn’t help but let a few tears fall from your cheeks. Now that Mark was there and sitting right next to you, it was finally hitting you that you were leaving him. That once you packed up all your things and left the apartment, there was no going back. Mark would no longer be in your life and the idea made you want to throw up, but there was nothing you could do. If the two of you were to continue your relationship and pretend like nothing was wrong, like you weren’t slowly dying on the inside, then you were going to lose yourself completely.

A life without Mark was one you never wanted to live. He was your everything and you were sure that he was the man you wanted to settle down and spend the rest of your life with. Whenever you heard the word forever, Mark would always pop up in your mind. Now the word felt bitter on your lips and the longer you stayed in the same room with him, the more you felt like you would suffer a panic attack. As you were about to put one of your blouses in your suitcase, you felt Mark’s fingers wrap around your wrist, preventing you from packing away your clothes.

“Mark—“

“You wore this blouse on our first date remember? I was so nervous because I wanted everything to be perfect. I still had a hard time believing that you actually wanted to date me and that you said yes. Jackson wouldn’t hear the end of it when I told him you said yes to going on a date with me. God, you looked so beautiful that night. Your hair was curled so nicely and you weren’t wearing any make up yet I felt like you were the most ethereal being I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” You didn’t even realize that he moved closer towards you until he turned you around and placed some of your hair behind your ear.

“I planned our first date out as soon as you said yes. The idea of finally making you mine after months of crushing over you felt like a dream. I didn’t know what you liked nor did I know where to take you. It was Jinyoung who reminded me that the location meant nothing. As long as I was with you, I didn’t care where we went, what we ate or what we did. But seeing that breathtaking smile of yours when you saw the picnic I set up for us at the beach made all my worries and negative thoughts disappear.”

The memories from your first date together came rushing back like a freight train and you couldn’t help but softly giggle at the thought of his clumsy Mark was. You gave him an A for effort as he tried to impress you with corny pick up lines and he even tried to feed you because he felt like it was romantic. Unfortunately, most of the dinner he prepared ended up either on your lap or on the blanket, but you both had an amazing time nonetheless. You took this time to look up at him and your heart felt as if it was being ripped apart in to a million pieces. Were you really going to leave this beautiful man sitting in front of you?

Even if things were no longer the same between the two of you, waking up next to him made you feel safe. Mark’s arms were your home and God, you were homesick. But you’ve been homeless for months now and even if the two of you tried to fix things, nothing would go back to the way they used to be.

“I don’t—I can’t—where did you even get the idea that I am no longer in love with you y/n? I know we haven’t been on the best of terms lately, but that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. I love you with every fiber of my pathetic being. I’ve always loved you and I’m always going to love you. Fuck. I can’t ever seem to stop loving you, the love I have for you only gets stronger as the days go by. I don’t know what I would do without you. Please y/n, rethink your decision. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I know it’s probably too late, I broke you beyond repair. Look at you. You look exhausted. Broken. You’re a ghost living in your body and I’m so fucking sorry that things ended up this way. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you. I would rather die before causing you any pain but look where we are. We’re strangers and I know it’s my fault we’re like this so I know I’m the only one who can fix it. Please, please, please. Let me fix things. Let me make it work, you and I both know I’m not letting you go that easily. Tell me what I can do to stop you from leaving. I’ll do anything. I’ll quit my job, I’ll drop all my friends, I’ll do whatever I have to do in order to make you happy again and to fix our relationship. I’m not losing you y/n. Please baby, give us one more chance. You’re my person y/n, I love you.”

Your mind was so clouded up with his words that you failed to notice him pull you on to his lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in to your neck. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed the feeling of his warm embrace. You missed being held by him, being adored by him, being protected by him, being loved by him. His words were affecting you in ways you didn’t think were possible. This is why you decided to pack before he came home because you knew there was no way you’d be able to leave if he asked you to stay. If he had the right words to promise you that things would get better, then you would stay.

Hearing him bring up your first date made this entire situation more difficult for you. He still cared, that you know was true. If he no longer cared, he wouldn’t have remembered what you wore that day nor would he have reminisced on that day in it’s entirety. Hearing him sniffle against your neck sent an unsettling sensation to your chest and you hated that you were doing this to him. However, he needed to feel the pain and the suffering you went through in these last few months. When he felt you place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, he was confident that you were going to give him another chance. That was until you got up from his lap and returned back to folding your clothes.

“So that’s it? You’re going to disregard my words, disregard my feelings and the fact that I want to work things out? I don’t want anybody but you y/n. If you leave me tonight, I promise you I’m going to give up on love completely. There’s no point in being in love if it’s not with you. Are you really going to let four years, some of the best years of both our lives go down the drain? You claim that you still love me, but you’re ripping my fucking heart out and stepping on it in front of me like it means nothing to you! Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me anymore. Tell me that you’re fine being without me. That breaking up with me is what you think is best for us, then I’ll let you go. If you can honestly tell me that you no longer care for me or have any feelings for me, then there’s nothing I can do about it. But I know you. I know every little thing about you. I know you like the back of my hand y/n. Fuck, I know you better than I know myself.”

He hesitantly stepped towards and when he noticed you weren’t moving away from him, he continued. “I know you’re unhappy. So am I. You don’t think I haven’t noticed we aren’t what we used to be? The distance fucking sucks y/n and I hate that I don’t know when, why or how we even got like this but that doesn’t matter. I’m sorry you’re so sad, and I’m sorry I’ve been a shit boyfriend. You deserve nothing but happiness y/n. You’re not going to find it if you were to leave. I don’t mean to sound narcissistic, but you need me just as much as I need you. If it’s time and space that you need, then I’ll give it to you. But please, don’t give up on us. Don’t give up on me. I love you. I love you so fucking much baby. Please.”

You were practically a mess at this point. The tears were running down your face like a dam and you had no intentions on wiping them away. Every word that fell from his lips felt like a punch to the face and before you could even process your actions, your lips were on his. This kiss was rough, as soon as he came to the realization of what was happening, he was quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pulled you as close to his chest as possible. It felt amazing.

The two of you haven’t kissed like this in months and it felt like your entire body was in flames. He licked and sucked on your bottom lip while grazing his thumb against your hip bone. The moans and soft curses that fell from his lips sent warmth directly to your core and you were mad at yourself for letting lust take over you. But if this was going to be your last night together, you wanted to make the most of it.

“Mark.” He continued smashing his lips against yours while biting on your lip, asking for entrance and hummed in curiosity to get you to continue. “I’m still leaving you.” You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt when he pulled away abruptly, but you couldn’t blame him. It was you who initiated the kiss, so it was understandable that he was confused to hear that the kiss didn’t mean what he hoped it did.

“Then why the fuck would you kiss me? You’re leading me on and made me think that you’re giving us another chance only to tell me that the kiss meant nothing? What the fuck did I do to hurt you so badly that you turned in to this emotionless version of yourself? Is this what you want? You want me to suffer don’t you? How many times do I have to apologize and beg for you to put some thought in to this? I’m not playing around y/n. You better tell me what you want now, or I’ll leave you to it.” You took in his angry expression and shivered at the sight. In the many years that you’ve known him for, Mark wasn’t one to get upset all too often.

Since he was very soft spoken, he never made it known that something was bothering him. However, he was bad at hiding his facial expressions. One look in his eyes and you knew he was pissed off. There was one occasion where his friend BamBam crashed his motorcycle, his most prized possession and although he told the younger boy that it was okay, you knew by the way his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched that he was outraged. You reached out for his arm and winced when he yanked it away from you.

“Don’t you dare act like the victim here and try to pretend that you didn’t just fuck me over. I got it already y/n. We’re over. We’re done! Fine! That’s what you want, I have to learn to accept it but stop saying one thing and doing another. It’s not fair for either of us. Okay? I wish you the best with your life and I’m always going to love you. Don’t you ever forget that.” Before he could walk out that door, you gently called out his name.

“I don’t want to leave you.” He released a frustrated sigh but stayed in his place, as if he wanted to hear the rest of what you had to say.

“Y/n please don’t start—“

“I mean it. I don’t want to leave you Mark.” He turned around to face you and crossed his arms to prevent himself from reaching out to you. He didn’t know what you were thinking. Mark could read you like an open book. He knew when you were tired, hungry, bored, he knew when someone said something that upset you and he knew when you were about to cry. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to read you or your body language as of right now so he didn’t know what your next move would be. He wasn’t sure whether or not to put his guard up.

“Then don’t.” You let out a sarcastic chuckle that sent a chill down his spine. It was obvious that you were no longer the happy-go-lucky college freshman he fell in love with all those years ago and he hated this cold person you turned in to.

“If only it was that easy. If I had another choice, do you really think I would’ve packed up all my things with the intent of leaving? I’ve contemplated this for weeks Mark. It wasn’t an overnight decision. I had to write down the pros and cons of leaving. There were more pros then cons. I’m not myself anymore Mark. I have to leave you to find myself again. Okay? Maybe one day, if the universe feels like we are meant to be together, then we’ll find each other again. I have no doubt in my mind that you and I are soulmates. We need to live without each other to realize just how much we need one another.”

He brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and pinched it out of frustration. You were right. The only way the two of you would be okay again is if you spent time apart in order to realize you can’t be without the other person. “Fine. If that’s what you feel will help bring us together again, then I just have to go along with it. But if I go along with your wishes, you have to go along with mine.” He motioned for you to walk over to him and immediately pulled you back against his chest. “I want you hold me. Hold me as tightly as you can. Like you’re never going to let me go. Like I’m not going to wake up to an empty bed to—tomorrow morning.” Hearing his voice crack as he came to the realization that this was actually happening was heartbreaking. You squeezed him as hard as you could and left chaste kisses all around his face.

The two of you stood there holding each other for what felt like hours. You wanted to hold him and be held by him for as long as time permitted you to do so. However, as you were about to continue your ministrations, he gently gripped your chin and lowered your face so that you were eye level with him.

“I want to make love to you tonight. Is that okay?” You nodded quickly and he didn’t hesitate to pick you up by the back of your thighs and hoisted you up against his knee. He began to attack your collarbone with his lips all the while guiding you on top of the bed. He brought his knee in between your thighs and the feeling of the rough material from his dress pants against your core sent shivers down your spine.

Mark started to run his hand back and forth along your thigh and continued to grind himself against your clothed entrance in order to get any sort of friction against his growing erection. His lips were hot against yours and his tongue was roughly attacking every corner in your mouth. He made it aware that he was definitely not going easy on you tonight. Mark wasn’t sure when he would be able to have you like this again, or if he would ever be able to love on your body like this again, so he wanted to make a memory the two of you would never forget.

“Tell me what you want y/n.” You let out a wanton moan as he dragged his fingers agonizingly slow along your soaking folds.

“You, I want you.” To your dismay, he stopped his movements altogether and softly caressed your cheek.

“But you’re leaving me.” You were sure that the way he was looking at you, with tears forming in his eyes like a child who just got their favorite toy taken away from them was going to stay in your mind forever.

“Mark, please don’t start.” He released a frustrated grunt before lowering himself on top of you and kissing you all around your face.

“I’m sorry. Let me give you a reason to stay baby.” Mark was quick to remove your shirt and his fingers unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere across the room. “Such pretty titties. How did I go so long without them?” You giggled softly before your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head once he brought one of your breasts inside of his mouth. Breast play was one of your favorite parts of sex and Mark was always so generous when it came to loving on your beautiful mounds. His mouth was warm against your nipple, licking and swirling around the hardened bud while he pinched and twisted your other nipple with his fingers. Your hands absentmindedly made their way in to his hair, gently tugging on it the longer he spent sucking on your breasts.

“Mmm—so good. Please don’t stop.” He continued his ministrations and you were so focused on him playing with your tits that you failed to notice his hand leave your nipple and make it’s way down to your clit. Feeling him pinch and flick your nub sent a pleasurable sensation to your core and you couldn’t help but release a breathy moan at how good it all felt. He yanked off both your pants and your underwear while he brought his fingers in to your cunt and began to pump them at a rough pace, not giving you any time to adjust or get comfortable. His fingers felt so good in your tight and velvety walls and you were sure by the way it felt and from past experiences that you could come by just his fingers alone. But that’s not what you wanted.

If this was under different circumstances, you would want him to take time loving on your body like he used to. However, you needed to be one with him. You wanted him inside of you. Mark made it obvious that he had his plans of how tonight was going to go with the way he was taking control of everything but you wanted to do things your way.

“Mark—as good as this all feels—mmm fuck—I need you inside of me. Now.” He pulled himself away from your chest and left a few kisses there before reconnecting your lips together but his fingers still had yet to leave your folds.

“I want that too baby, but you have to be patient. I want to have you in all the ways that I possibly can. I’m going to eat this pretty pussy of yours, you’re going to choke on my dick as I force it down your tight little throat and then I’ll fuck you like my life depends on it. Got it?” You found yourself nodding at his command only because he sounded so sexy whenever he was rough and dominant with you. As he made his way down to your core, he started leaving wet, sloppy kisses all along your body and even began to make his mark with a couple of hickeys here and there. He ran his fingers alongside your hips and soon you felt his hot breath against where you needed him the most. To your dismay, he began to tease you, biting on the inside of your thighs and massaging them while kissing just about your clit.

You knew exactly what he was doing and as much as you wanted to shove his head against your entrance so that he could relieve the burning sensation that was building in your tummy, you knew not to stop him from what he was doing. After a few moments of taking his time in dragging his hands along the lower half of your body, he finally licked a stripe along your folds earning himself a soft moan. An adorable chuckle fell from his lips as he began to eat you out like this was his last meal and the feeling made you wrap your legs around his neck. His pace was rough as he brought his tongue up and down your folds while nibbling and sucking on your clit.

Mark was always extremely generous whenever it came to eating you out. He knew your likes, your dislikes, what could make you scream and squirm to his liking. He did whatever he could to make you sing for him. Knowing he would get you to be more vocal by doing so, he shoved his two fingers back inside of you while continuing to lick and suck on your folds. The sensation was mind blowing and you wanted him to both stop, and to go faster. Feeling you tug on his hair as he continued loving on your soaking pussy made him go even faster. One of Mark’s biggest weaknesses was hair pulling. Whenever you’d pull on his soft, curly locks as a way to control your burning desire, the sensation would send chills down his spine.

It was obvious that you were close, your throaty moans and the way you were looking at him was proof enough that you were close to losing it and Mark took that as a sign to go all in. “M—Mark. Oh my God Mark—just like that. Your tongue and your fingers feels so good—I’m so close. Please—I want to come so badly.” Right as you felt him moan against your clit, you were releasing all over his tongue and screaming out in pleasure as he lapped up all of your juices. He took a few more moments sucking you clean before making his way back up to you and brought his fingers up to your mouth.

“Open. Now suck. You naughty little girl. Tell me how it tastes. So fucking good right? My pretty princess, are you ready to choke on me now? You made me hard just by those sounds you were making as I ate you out. Did it feel good? I need words baby.” You sucked on his fingers as seductively as you could, tasting yourself on top of them and releasing them from your mouth with a loud pop.

“So good. It felt and tasted amazing. You’re always so good to me Mark. I missed having your fingers inside of me. Let me take care of you now.” He didn’t even have to respond before you stole a sloppy kiss from the corner of his mouth and made your way down to your knees. Even from the beginning of your relationship, you always preferred giving head over receiving it. As good as Mark was to you whenever he went down on you, you loved the feeling of having his dick shoved down your throat. It was hard to explain, but you were sure having him get all rough and dominant with you was one of your biggest turn ons. Plus, hearing him grunt and groan about how good your mouth felt while he forced himself deeper down your throat always made you wet. You unzipped him from his pants and pulled them from his legs as quickly as you possibly could.

Since it’s been so long since you’ve had him like this, you were eager to have him back in to your mouth again. A part of you wanted to tease him, you loved getting a rise out of him by only touching and stroking him because you knew how desperate he was to fuck your mouth. But this time was different. Knowing it was your last night together, you didn’t want to waste one minute of it doing unnecessary things. You placed a kiss against his clothed dick and palmed him for a few seconds just to give yourself a moment to breathe. Finally, you pulled him out of the constraints of his underwear and you couldn’t help but drool at the sight of his painfully hardened and extremely red cock.

Mark was extremely well endowed. He was both long and thick, and although you were a firm believer that penises were extremely ugly, something about Mark’s would always make your mouth water. There were times where he had you beg to suck on his cock or to give him a hand job only because he knew how much you’d crave for it. You were quick to take it in your hand and licked a stripe against the slit earning you a soft moan. Then you began to circle your tongue around the tip knowing just how much Mark enjoyed it. You ran your thumb in between the slit as you began to lick stripes along the sides of his shaft and spit on it so it was lubricated enough to make it easier for you to pump him. As you began to bring your hand up and down his length, you looked up at him and licked your lips at the sight of him biting his bottom lip. The facial expressions he’d make while you’d suck him off were always so sexy. You continued to pump him although you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

“Baby—baby please. I need your mouth—let me—let me fuck your pretty mouth—ah shit.” Hearing Mark beg wasn’t something you weren’t used to. He would always beg if the situation called for it. As much as he hated being submissive, only because he loved being the one in control, he loved seeing you get rough and taking the lead sometimes. Finally after what felt like forever, you took as much of him as you possibly could in to your mouth while fondling with his balls. You could feel his tip touch the back of your throat and you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. His veins were throbbing against the sides of your cheeks and you brought your hands up to his thighs to support you as you continued your ministrations. The constant moans and curses that fell from his lips as you continued to bob your head back and forth sent warmth to your core. You loved getting to please Mark in any way that you could and hearing him admit how good your mouth felt made you mentally giggle.

“F—Fuck. Your mouth y/n—holy shit. So wet—so warm—so tight—I’m gonna Fuck the shit out of your face now, is that okay?” The hum against his cock caused him to release a content sigh and before you knew it, his hands were at the base of your hair, tying a makeshift ponytail so that he could have a letter grip on your long locks. He didn’t give you much time to prepare yourself as he began to shove his cock down your throat even deeper than you were already taking him. You couldn’t help but choke on it, the force was too much for you to handle but you didn’t want him to stop.

You continued to bob your head back and forth against him while sinking your nails in to the back of his thighs. His speed was relentless, it’s as if he was taking out all his anger and frustration from the thought of you leaving him on your mouth. He yanked your ponytail and pulled you off of him, making eye contact with you and you shivered at his animalistic he looked.

“My beautiful little cockslut, how does it feel having my big cock shoved down this pretty little throat? It feels so fucking good to me. You’re so good at sucking me off baby. You look so pretty like this, so dirty. I wanna see something real quick.” Before you could ask him what he meant, he brought his finger back down to your clit and rubbed at your folds all but gently. “You’re soaking angel. Sucking my dick got you this wet? You love sucking me off don’t you? Look at me y/n. Look at me while I fuck this dirty mouth of yours.” He brought himself back in to your mouth and glided his hips full force till his tip was grazing your uvula. Seeing him throw his head back at how good you were blowing him was such a beautiful sight. You loved seeing the look of pleasure on Mark’s face as you sucked him dry.

All too soon, you felt his warm, creamy liquid filling up your mouth and you did your best to milk him for everything he had. Once you were done, he pulled you up from off the ground and roughly brought your lips to his. “You are so fucking perfect y/n. God, what am I going to do without you?” You cupped his cheek and grazed his nose with your thumb. Although he just finished face fucking you, his worried and melancholic tone made your heart hurt. No matter how much fun you were having and how much you would miss being intimate with him; hell, just missing him in general, you had to leave him. It’s what you felt the two of you needed. Instead of allowing him to continue to make you feel guilty of breaking his heart, you pushed him down on the bed and removed his dress shirt; moaning softly to yourself when you saw his defined chest and growing six pack.

It was obvious that the two of you haven’t had sex in a while, he was still working on getting more built the last time you had him writhing underneath you. Now, you were screwed. His arms were definitely bigger and you were excited to have him pin you down with his more toned biceps. But before you’d allow him to be on top, you wanted to give him a little treat of his own. “Let me ride.” He groaned when you got on top of his lap and hovered over him. Cowgirl was one of your favorite positions because you loved the feeling of bouncing up and down Mark’s cock and with the way he would hide himself in the crook of your neck to prevent himself from being too loud made it aware to you that he was just as much a fan as you were.

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before sitting right on top of his extremely hardened erection. To Mark’s dismay, you began to tease him, grinding yourself back and forth along his length but not doing anything to help the painful feeling of wanting more. His hands made their way down to your waist and he gripped gently, helping guide you back and forth before whispering gentle threats in to your ear. “Keep teasing me and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk for the rest of the week princess. I’m going to fuck the living shit out of you, that’s a promise.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at how vulgar his words were and you finally did the both of yourselves a favor by guiding him to your entrance.

You brought him along your folds to lubricate him enough before finally sinking on top of him. The two of you moaned in sync at how delicious the stretch felt. It’s been so long since he’s been in you and Mark considered calling himself a born again virgin. Your walls clenched around him and the older boy felt embarrassed because he was sure that he was going to come before actually getting to move. In between your thighs was Mark’s favorite place to be and he felt overwhelmed by how tight you were.

“Fuck—shit—shit—I’m going to need you to do something baby—move y/n—move! Ahhh—just like that princess. Bounce on me—mmmmm.” You began to bounce on his cock at such a quick pace you’d give jack rabbits a run for their money. The sound of skin on skin slapping echoed throughout the room alongside of both your moans, whines and cusses of how good it felt fucking each other. Your ass clapped against his thighs as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust. Mark was a power bottom, even if you were on top he’d never let you do anything by yourself. He pinched and slapped at your ass while bringing one of your breasts in to his mouth and harshly sucking on it. His name fell off your lips like a mantra, you couldn’t get over how amazing this all felt.

His fingers began to twist at your nipple while he began to bring the other one in between his teeth. Your hands made their way in to his hair, gently tugging at his scalp and you continued gyrating your hips against his. To your dismay, you felt Mark grabbing at your ass and lifting you up from off of his lap. He knew you were going to ask him what he was doing, so he flipped you over and tossed you on the bed while connecting your lips together.

“I’m so fucking close and we’ve only been at this for fifteen minutes. I refuse to come in such a short amount of time and when I do come inside this pretty pussy of yours, I wanna see your face while I do it. Fuck, I will never get over how huge and beautiful your tits are. I would suck on them all day if I could. But now, now I want to fuck your brains and blow your back out. Ready for me baby?” You nodded quickly against his neck and he took no time to line himself up at your entrance before entering you and filling you up to the hilt. You hid your face in his chest and bit down on your hand to prevent yourself from screaming out at how erotic this all was, but he yanked your hand from out of your mouth and growled.

“So fucking tight—don’t hide those pretty sounds baby. Let everyone know whose fucking you this good. Scream my name y/n. Let the neighbors know who this pussy belongs to.” His pace was rough and very quick as he began to bury himself inside of you. The headboard started to hit up against the wall and you were sure you’d be hearing complaints and knocks against the walls pretty soon with how loud the two of you were being. He brought your legs up on to his shoulders because he knew he could hit you deeper in this position. His cock felt so good against your core with each and every thrust and he brought his finger up to your clit, flicking and pinching at your already swollen nub.

“M—Mark—holy shit Mark—mmmmm—so big—so good—faster please—I need you to go faster.” You didn’t have to ask him twice. His balls began to hit the back of your ass and you couldn’t help but to scratch his back in response to how insane it was driving you. Sweat was building up on both of your bodies and the room wreaked of sex. He started to pepper your face with kisses and smiled at you gently causing your heart to flutter. To your confusion, he motioned for you to drop your legs and brought himself deeper in to your thighs. He reached up at your hands and intertwined while slowing down his pace.

“Y/n.” You didn’t want to make eye contact with him because you knew you would tear up if you were to look at him, but you found yourself staring up at him anyway. He brushed back some of your hair and left a chaste kiss on your lips before gazing at you. The animalistic look in his eye was no longer there. It was now softer, more gentle and you could’ve sworn you saw a tear fall from his cheek.

“I love you. With every single bone and breath in my body. For today, tomorrow and I’m sure the rest of my life, I will love you and only you. Please—please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you. You’re the reason for my existence, you’re the cause of the smile on my face. My heart, it only beats for you. I love you—I love you—so fucking much—I love you.” With each and every thrust, confessions of love and pleas to not leave him fell from his pretty lips. His eyes never left yours once and the only time he let go of your hand was to wipe the tears that came down the longer the two continued to relinquish in what was left of your love. With the way his cock was throbbing in between your legs, you knew he was close and you weren’t too far away. He connected your lips together and before you knew it, you were being filled with his cum.

“Come on baby, let go for me.” His words alone brought you to sheer ecstasy and you were releasing not too long after him. He plopped himself on top of you and the two of you just laid there in silence, just basking in the other’s presence. His heartbeat was loud against your chest and you were sure he could hear yours too. He ran his fingers through your hair and left soft kisses among it. After lying with each other for a few moments, Mark decided the two of you were in desperate need of a shower.

“God, I will never get over how beautiful you are. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. Let’s get you cleaned up baby.” In Mark’s words, “lets get you cleaned up” meant another round in your shower. He had you up against the wall while he fucked in to you from behind and once you were done, he took you up against the fridge and on top of the couch. If this was going to be your last night together, he was going to make the most of it. The two of you were exhausted after hours of passionate and extremely steamy love making so Mark helped you change in to one of his shirts and tucked you in to bed before finishing getting himself ready to go to sleep.

The tears were hot on your cheeks as you waited for him to join you. Is this how it was going to be without him? The bed was cold and empty and so was your heart. Could you really live without him? When he finally rejoined you in bed, he was quick to pull you against his bare chest and wrapped his arms around your lower back. He smashed his cheek against yours and released an exasperated sigh. “Stay with me tonight, please.” You hesitantly nodded before placing a light kiss on his chest. “Do you have a place to stay?”

“Yeah, my sister offered me to live with her until I find a place of my own.”

“You don’t have to do this you know, you could stay. I can fix this. We can be okay again—“ the soft pinch on his bicep told him otherwise.

“Can we pretend like none of this is happening and just hold each other and talk—“

You were quick to pick up on the way his brows were furrowing and how he let go of your waist in order to clench his fist. He sighed heavily before interrupting you, the anger in his voice sent chills down your spine.

“How the fuck am I supposed to pretend like nothing’s wrong y/n? You’re leaving me! You’re not giving us a chance! You’re running away from your problems, from me. Am I supposed to be all happy, sunshine and rainbows when you’re breaking my fucking heart? No way. Let’s be real here y/n. Once you leave, there’s no turning back. We will never be the same. We’ll be strangers again. Like we didn’t plan out our lives together. Like you aren’t the one I plan on spending the rest of my life with. It’s like I mean nothing to you. Like the last four years of our relationship meant nothing to you.”

Hearing him choke on his words again made your heart hurt. Mark was always the strong one in your relationship. Although he was sensitive, he hardly ever cried in front of you because he never wanted to seem weak. He’s admitted to you that he would cry after the two of you would argue, but not once have you ever seen him cry in front of you. You lovingly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He must’ve had the same mindset as you and pushed the negative thoughts to the back of his mind.

“Can we—still be friends?” He gave you a knowing look while shaking his head.

“You and I both know there’s no way we can be just friends. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not when I still have feelings for you and I probably always will. How am I supposed to look at you and resist the urge to want to pull you in my embrace and kiss you with everything I have? There’s no way. I’m sorry. If I can’t have you in my life as my girlfriend, then there’s no point of having you at all.” He grazed your cheek with his thumb. “Do you really think this is the end for us y/n? Do you not see yourself spending the rest of your life with me like I do with you?”

“Of course I do Mark. All I want and could ever want is you. Everything we planned for ourselves, our future, the house with a big yard and our kids running around, I want all of that. I just need some time. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” He placed his chin on your shoulder and left a soft kiss there.

“We don’t have much time left together. Let’s make the most of it shall we?” The two of you stayed up for a few hours reminiscing on your time together and updated each other on what was going on in your lives that the other didn’t know about. Since both you and Mark were spent from making love to one another, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep. You however, decided to take this time to adore Mark while you still could. You brought your fingers up to his face and traced his features as softly as you could in fear of waking him up. Mark was a sight for sore eyes. He was breathtakingly handsome and the fact that he was extremely kind, generous and golden hearted made him all the more attractive than he already was.

You wish things could be different. If only your mind would allow you to believe that he was going to change. That things would be different but deep down, you knew there was a huge chance he was all talk. He would treat you right and make things better, but it wouldn’t last long. Your heart could no longer handle this rollercoaster you called a relationship.

After being selfish and taking as much time as you could in his arms, you tried your best to take his arm off of your waist without waking him. Then you grabbed a pair of sweats and made your way in to the bathroom to change, not wanting to make a sound and end up waking the sleeping figure you were trying to get away from. You debated on whether or not you should change out of his shirt, you knew you would end up crying every time you were to look at it but you decided to keep it. You loved Mark’s smell, it was addicting. Just as you were finished, you snuck back in to the room and began to write him a quick note and placed it on your pillow then you went to his side of the bed and placed a long kiss on his lips.

“I love you so much Mark. You’re mine and I’m yours. Never forget it.” You took one more look at him and forced yourself to hold back your sobs. Your adorable little puppy Milo came running towards you when he noticed you making your way towards the door with all your bags. You knelt down and playfully ruffled his fur. “I’m going to miss you Mai. Take care of daddy for me would you?”

When Mark woke up the next morning to a more vacant bed, he began to panic although he knew there was a huge chance that you left already. That’s how you were, whenever you put your mind to something, you always went through with it. Breaking up with Mark was no different. He allowed the tears and his muffled cries to fill up the room as he began to scream in to his pillow. Why did he have to fall asleep? He could’ve stopped you if he tried a little harder. It was in the moments where he was throwing his fists around that he felt something crunch under the sheets. He picked up your note and his sobs only got louder as he began to read what you had to say.

My dearest Mark,

If you’re reading this, I have already taken my things and left. We’ll find each other again one day and until then, live your best life and take care of yourself. I’m sorry things had to end this way, but I needed to do this for myself. Just because I’m leaving you doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. Don’t you ever question my love for you okay? I love you more than you will ever know.

Forever yours,

Y/n

They say if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, then it’s yours forever. If not, then it was never meant to be.

Let this be our lesson in love Let this be the way we remember us I don't wanna be cruel or vicious And I ain't asking for forgiveness All I ask isIf this is my last night with you Hold me like I'm more than just a friend Give me a memory I can use Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do It matters how this ends 'Cause what if I never love again?

#got7 imagines #got7 mark #mark tuan #mark tuan got7 #got7 #got7 angst #mark tuan angst #got7 smut #mark tuan smut #mark tuan imagines

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falseroar · 4 years ago

Text

Dog Days Part 22: Very Important Person

((Y/N, Chase, and Jameson visit the local TV studio in search of Wilford Warfstache, looking to find out what his connection is to Abe.

Warning: Shooting/someone shown getting shot, no gore/details.

Links to the masterlist with every part, and to Part 21: Coffee with a Dash of Honesty.))

The building that Chase parked near was completely new to you. From the street name, you guessed this area used to be that stretch of small businesses that in your memory tended to come and go before they made much of an impression, although it looked like they had all been torn down to make way for the tall building and its attached lawns and parking lots.

“Honest John Loans,” you murmured when you got out of the car, and when Chase and Jameson looked at you, you felt the need to explain, “Used to be a loan company around here, went out of business after the owner—wasn’t around anymore.”

“Yeah, I think there used to be a few stores around here before the studio bought them up,” Chase said. “That was after DE Studios got super popular, started streaming even in other countries instead of just the local broadcasts. Before that, they were running out of a little place over in between all the warehouses on the harbor.”

“You seem to know a lot about this place,” Jameson pointed out as the three of you walked toward the set of glass double doors under a set of enormous letters spelling out “D.E.S.”

“I looked up some stuff last night. Plus, I…kind of wanted to work here when I was a kid. I applied for an internship, even got it, but my parents vetoed that idea.” Chase shrugged. “Wasn’t the kind of work experience they were hoping for, not that it really mattered in the end.”

“Did you ever get to go on a tour here?” you asked as Jameson pulled open one of the doors and waved the two of you in before him, but Chase shook his head. “Then maybe we can still have some fun even if Wilford isn’t here.”

An idea shot down not even two seconds later by the man standing behind the front desk, who took one look at you all and said in a dull, lifeless tone, “No tours today.”

“What?” Chase asked, unable to hide his disappointment. He shared a look with Jameson, both thinking their plan to keep you distracted and away from home wasn’t looking too great. “But there wasn’t anything on your website about them being canceled, and the sign right there says—”

The man behind the counter flipped the tour sign so that it was lying face down and said, “We are also not filming today, so there is no need for a studio audience. If you wish to apply to be a guest on one of our shows, the application form can be found online.”

You frowned at the man, but it wasn’t because of the abruptly canceled tour. There was something strange about his voice, a faint static under his stilted words that probably only you could hear, a hum coming from his chest in place of a heartbeat that seemed to pulse in time with the lit up ‘G’ on his gray shirt. And, when you breathed in, you could smell Chase and Jameson on either side, but there wasn’t a scent coming from this man.

Or at least, not one that you would associate with a person, but the faint whiff of magic and oil made you sure that you were in the right place.

“Who are you?” you asked, stepping forward to the counter.

“I am a Google unit, designed to answer questions and perform tasks quickly and efficiently,” he answered, tilting his head to match your stare while his eyes studied you behind his black-rimmed glasses. “Currently, I am filling in for the receptionist who has taken an early lunch break.”

“Wait, unit?” Chase stared at Google for a moment and then his eyes lit up with understanding. “You’re magitek! I heard the Institute bought out a lab that was working on something special, but I never got a chance to see it. That’s so cool!”

“Yes, I was the initial prototype from that line,” Google answered. “The head of this studio was able to purchase me before the buyout.”

“That feels a little…not right,” Jameson signed, only to put his hands behind his back when Google fixed him with his unblinking stare next.

“Magitek is, well, what it sounds like, a blend of magic and technology,” Chase explained to you and Jameson. He gestured at Google as he said, “This though, it’s leaps and bounds ahead of anything else out there right now though. I mean, look at him!”

Google smirked. “Your excellent taste is both appreciated and entirely correct. The tours will resume next week, on schedule, if you would wish to make an appointment.”

Next week. It was possible he could still be here by then, but the idea of waiting that long and missing your chance didn’t sit well. Especially not when you felt so close to something for once.

“We were actually hoping to see someone who might be here,” you said. “Do you know if there’s a Wilford in the building?”

Google paused and then said, “Are you on the approved visitor list?”

“Uh,” you hesitated and looked at Jameson and Chase, who didn’t really have an answer. “If you could just tell me if he’s even here—”

“Names?” Google asked.

“…Y/N,” you said, reluctantly. “But I just—”

“Y/N,” Google repeated, with a different tone. “You are on the approved VIP list.”

“I am?”

“They are?” Chase asked, and Jameson signed.

“And your names?”

“That’s Jameson Jackson, and I—I’m Chase Brody,” Chase said slowly.

“Understood. Please wait for your visitor badges to be printed.”

Google turned away and you took a step back to be closer to the other two. Once you were sure the magitek unit wasn’t watching, you signed, “It must be a mistake. Someone else with my name.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t take advantage of it,” Chase signed back.

“But what if we get caught?” Jameson asked.

“Then we tell them there was some kind of misunderstanding.” Chase shrugged. “Worst that happens is we get a slap on the wrist for trespassing, and even then, it’s still iffy. It’s not like we lied about who we are or why we’re here.”

“This might also be our only chance to meet this Wilford guy,” you pointed out. “There’s no guarantee we would run into him on a tour, assuming he’s even still here next week.”

Jameson nervously moved his hands, as though trying to decide whether to give in or stop this here, but before he made up his mind Google spoke again in that same not quite emotionless tone.

“Your badges are ready. Please do not lose them, or you will be immediately escorted from the building. Forcefully.”

You turned around to find three badges lying on the corner, just cards printed off and slipped into plastic envelopes hanging from DE Studios branded lanyards.

“As a VIP, you are welcome to a more permanent card,” Google added. “But that would require your picture to be taken. Please stand still.”

“What?” you asked, but a bright flash came from the magitek unit before he lowered the camera and plugged it into the computer.

“Your card will be available by the time you leave,” Google said, ignoring your protest which was quickly cut off by Jameson and Chase.

“…Thanks, I guess,” you muttered, even if you didn’t like the thought of a picture of you being on that thing. Better to play along for now. “Wait, why did you just take my picture and not theirs?”

“Because you are the only one on the VIP list,” Google answered. “The other two may enter as your guests for this visit.”

Your card did seem to be a different color than the other two, or at least you guessed it was based on the different shade of gray, but it was Chase’s turn to pause when he saw the names on the cards. Specifically, the one labeled “Charles Bronson.”

“That’s…not the name I gave you,” Chase pointed out slowly.

“It is the name that is in the system,” Google said. “Attached to one internship application that was accepted and then turned down by the applicant. Do you wish to update your file?”

“Why do you still have that?” Chase asked. “Yes, I want to—I mean…”

“The process will only take…45 minutes.”

Chase sighed. “No, I guess it’s fine…”

“Give or take 3 hours, depending on length of time spent on the questionnaire—”

“It’s fine, I’ll wear the stupid badge,” Chase said, grabbing the lanyard and pulling it over his head. He tried to at least turn it so that his name faced inward, only to discover that the names were printed on both sides of the card. “…Sure, why not. Now can you tell us where this Wilford dude is?”

“Once all phones and other recording devices have been handed over. I am also required to ask you to sign our terms and agreements, which is standard for all visitors in the building.”

Chase and Jameson sighed as they pulled out their phones, but you pulled the stacks of paper Google tried to hand them out of his hand and studied it for all of two seconds before saying, “We’re not signing this.”

Google dropped the phones into a bin behind the counter, Chase wincing at the sound of his phone hitting the plastic and said, “Understood.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Chase asked. “You’re not going to make us sign it or leave?”

“I said that I was required to ask, not that I actually need any signatures.”

You stared at the magitek unit as he walked out from behind the counter and asked, “Then why bother asking? The first page alone is absurd, who in their right mind would sign this thing?”

Google smiled. “Most people don’t even question it. And no one wants to be the one to hold the tour group up because they’re actually reading it.”

You picked a paragraph at random and started to read aloud, “’Dark Entertainment Studios is not liable for any accident or the consequences of any event on its grounds or during filming, up to and including death, injury, mental or emotional trauma, existential crises’…’Contestants lacking a living will may be assumed to give DE Studios power of attorney’—”

Google’s smile was gone now. “As you have not signed, these terms do not apply to you. So, if you could please stop reading those out loud—”

“Who the hell wrote this?!”

“…Permission to answer that question has been denied,” Google answered, his eyes twitching and his head briefly jerking to the side before he recovered. “Please try again later.”

Jameson pulled you to the side and signed, “I understand you’re angry, but perhaps this is a battle for later? We’re here for Wilford, not a legal kerfuffle.”

“Fine,” you muttered, before holding up the document for Google to see, “But I’m taking this, and I will have a lot of notes for whoever’s in charge here when I come back.”

“Understood. I will make a note for a future appointment,” Google said, his gaze fixed on some distant point for a moment before it returned to normal. “Follow me. According to his schedule, Wilford Warfstache is currently in Studio 3.”

Google paused to put up a sign saying that someone would be back in 15 minutes and added under his breath, “…Not that he seems aware of what a schedule even is.”

“What exactly are we going to say to this Wilford fellow once we find him?” Jameson asked as the three of you followed Google into the short hallway behind the counter which ended at a set of elevators, one of which opened with a soft “ding” as soon as he pressed the button.

“I didn’t think we’d actually get this far,” Chase admitted once you were all in the thankfully spacious elevator, which looked big and tall enough to hold an elephant inside. He was signing again, you guessed to keep Google from listening in, but your attention was on the directory above the buttons.

There seemed to be a floor for each studio, of which there were five, and a few floors dedicated to various departments such as production, marketing, etc. Human Resources had its own floor, but the button for that one wasn’t lit up like the others, leaving you to suspect that it was broken. Then there was the top floor, which didn’t have a label or any other indication of what was there on the directory.

Before you could ask Google any questions, the elevator came to a stop with another ding, the automated voice overhead announcing that you were now at Studio 3.

“Studio 3 is generally used for our game shows,” Google said. “On our current schedule, the first half of the week is used to film Menagerie of Insanity, and then we switch over the set to film episodes of Monstrous Love for the rest of the week, or at least those portions that take place in studio.”

“Staci loves that show,” Chase said, craning his neck to look in the open door to a room full of monitors and other equipment you didn’t understand. “She was a big fan of what’s-his-name, Herla.”

“Ratings were very high during his time on the show,” Google answered, leading the way to the left and toward the set of double doors at the end of the hall.

“Yeah, shame it didn’t work out with that centaur. Are they filming more episodes of that show then?”

“Chase!” Jameson shook his finger at him.

“What? No, I didn’t mean—”

Chase’s face turned red and he stumbled over his denial, not helped when Google said, “We are currently interviewing potential candidates. If you wish to apply, please speak to the receptionist before leaving or fill out the online form.”

“What are all of these other rooms?” you asked, partially to save Chase from this conversation.

“Storage and janitorial services for this floor, the production control room, the central apparatus room, both of which are dedicated to Studio 3, and rooms for our employees that I am required to refer to as ‘talent,’” Google answered, pointing to each door in questions as you passed. “There is also a green room attached to the studio, with refreshments for our guests and contestants. Each studio floor has the same basic layout, except for Studio 5, which has an additional area for recording and voiceover work, with the master control room on its own separate floor.”

“Master control room?” Jameson asked.

“It’s basically where they choose what signal goes out,” Chase answered. “What shows up on the TV or on the online feed, like reruns or commercials.”

“Correct. We are currently on a…hiatus, from broadcasting live content at the moment.”

He had also mentioned they weren’t filming today, which might explain why the whole building felt quiet. Your ears caught the hum of motors and fans whirring in the rooms full of equipment and monitors, and the faint sound of a chair squeaking that suggested someone was in there, but if you had to guess all of these other rooms were empty of people. That is, except for the studio he was leading you toward, whose doors appeared to be soundproofed because even you could just barely make out the sound of voices as the four of you approached.

As soon as Google opened the door though, a crowd of people began to cheer and clap their hands. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like, but the room was almost empty. Past a row of dark cameras pointed toward the set, where a semicircle of row upon row of empty seats looked down on a large spinning wheel that was clattering to a stop next to three occupied podiums.

And, in the center of it all, stood a man holding a microphone who was almost dwarfed by the large creature sitting next to him, which looked like a massive lion with a set of black wings that matched the hair on his human head, or at least one that was large enough to suit his body. Said sphinx was also holding a (much larger) microphone in one paw, and for some reason appeared to be wearing a shirt and jacket on the front half of his body with a tie that dangled down from his neck.

“Excellent spin!” The man standing next to the sphinx spoke in a loud, booming voice that carried through the room, and you felt like you had just had all of the breath knocked out of your chest. “Tell me Bim, what did our lucky contestant land on?”

The sphinx grinned and said, “Looks like Billy won a very special bonus: ‘Take a shot!’”

“Well, if you say so,” the man said, pulling out a gun from behind his back where it had apparently been tucked into his waistband before pointing it at the first contestant.

“Wilford, wai—” The sphinx reached out a huge paw only to sigh when the man fired off three rounds in quick succession, each blast an assault on your hearing even when you pressed your hands against your ears. The contestants shrieked and Chase shouted next to you as the shot contestant collapsed, but the sphinx just rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, don’t be such a drama king, Billy. We told you from the start we remembered to put wax bullets in Wilford’s gun this time.”

“They still hurt! Why couldn’t we have just used blanks?” came the groaned response from behind the podium as the contestant slowly dragged himself back up onto his feet. A splatter of colored wax marked his chest, but he was clearly…maybe not okay, but mostly uninjured, at least. A chorus of laughter came from speakers set up around the room, and he glared at one of the other contestants who had a board full of switches in hand and a guilty expression.

“What’s wrong with seeing how my aim is holding up?” the shooter asked, still waving his gun around to emphasize his words. “Besides, you told me to take another shot!”

“We’ve been over this, not everything is literal. More importantly, the game isn’t fun if you kill off the contestants for no reason,” the sphinx explained. “It’s like…you know music, right? That used to be your thing. A game show’s like that, there’s a rhythm, a pattern to it, and you shooting one of the contestants out of nowhere is like someone pulling the plug and cutting the song off early. Get it?”

“…Not even a little bit, no.”

“You know, maybe we should just go ahead and take a break. I’m starting to think your…talents might be better suited for somewhere else.” The sphinx looked at the “contestants” and said, “You can get back to whatever you were doing, just don’t forget my lunch!”

The last words were shouted after them, as the three sprinted out of the room as fast as they could, bumping into you and the others in their way.

The sphinx rolled his eyes again and muttered, “Interns. Probably should have kept one of them behind, I’m feeling a little—oh, hello! And who might you all be?”

His eyes lit up at the sight of your group and he gave a smile that might have been friendly, if it hadn’t shown off a lot of teeth that looked more at home in a lion’s mouth.

“These are guests,” Google answered. “Here to see Wilford Warfstache.”

“Hm?” the man holding the gun looked up and gave you all a smile that held no kind of recognition.

Even though you knew exactly who he was. Even without the uniform and helmet, even after all this time, you knew the Colonel’s voice, his mannerisms, the gun in his hand. The same gun, that he had carelessly fired at that intern like it was nothing.

Suddenly you knew exactly why Abe had been looking for him, understood the hunter’s strange behavior at the disco, his anger and despair. All this time, spent looking for the man that nearly killed him, who up until the night before last you thought had killed Abe.

All that time in the mirror, all that anger and rage of your own, and you had never thought about what you would do if you found yourself here, face to face with the Colonel again.

If you had imagined this moment, you don’t think it would have included the way he looked at you now, with a clueless smile like you were as much a stranger to him as Chase or Jameson. Or the other detail that your mind latched onto, until the sphinx moved in between you and the Colonel.

“Hello, my name is Bim Trimmer. Host of Menagerie of Insanity, or you might remember me from other hit shows that I’ve done.”

“Of course, who doesn’t know you?” Chase said, his voice higher and cracking slightly as he stepped in front of Jameson and tugged on your sleeve as though to encourage you to take a step back. “We, uh, didn’t expect to see you here today, or we would have, uh…”

“Brought something to sign?” Jameson suggested.

“Yeah, autographs,” Chase muttered. Clearing his throat, he continued, “But yeah, didn’t mean to interrupt, we can just—”

“Not at all, a distraction sounds lovely right now. Besides, we can’t be rude to guests.” Bim gestured toward your nametag, but you swore he sniffed before his pupils widened into two black discs. “Very special guests. How do you know our Wilford?”

You hesitated, aware that Jameson and Chase were waiting on you to answer, but your mind was still a blank, and your voice caught in your throat with nothing to say.

“Why, fans from the club, I’m sure,” the Colonel, or you guessed you should call him Wilford now, answered. He beamed as he stepped forward to Jameson and said, “I’ve seen you hit up the dance floor, I know!”

“I think you might be mistaken, sir,” Jameson signed, and Wilford laughed as though he had just said the most hilarious thing that he had heard all week.

“It’s actually through someone we know,” Chase said, now that it was becoming clear that you weren’t about to say anything. “Wilford, do you know an Abe Lincoln?”

“The car salesman?” Wilford asked.

“Uh—no, he’s a…he’s a hunter,” Chase said, trying very hard not to look at Bim when he said it. “Do you know why he might be looking for you?”

Wilford rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment. “I don’t owe him money, do I?”

Chase didn’t really know how to answer that, but while Wilford threw out a few more equally unlikely suggestions, you became aware of someone else talking in the studio, speaking low and fast.

“Here we see the automaton has brought three new victims into the clutches of the monster. See the way his tail is thrashing? That suggests a hunting state of mind, a predator considering the problem of his prey, and at any second he’s liable to pounce on our unsuspecting—”

You realized the voice was coming from somewhere under the rows of seating, but you were distracted by Bim lowering his head until you were eye-level and saying, “I would love to have you on the show sometime. I feel like you would be fantastic for the new season we’re lining up. Of course, we’ll have to do something about your wardrobe. Those rags you’re wearing just scream secondhand comfort wear, and aren’t doing you any favors.”

“And wearing those rags?”

The memory of the butler’s comment felt like it came out of nowhere, clashing with the Colonel’s presence, and you realized too late that it was happening again. Your unwanted awareness of too much going on at once: the running commentary going on in the distance, Bim’s overwhelming presence, the scent of the sphinx battling it out with whatever cologne Wilford seemed to have doused himself with, Wilford’s still talking away to an increasingly confused Chase and Jameson, just…Wilford in general, here with no warning, no chance to prepare yourself.

“I—no, I don’t think I could handle…all that,” you said, gesturing toward the set behind him. You tried to find something, anything to focus on, but doing that and holding a conversation at the same time was just too much. After a long second, you remembered to add, “Thank you for the offer, though.”

“Hm? Oh, not for this,” Bim said, waving a paw in the direction of the game show setup. “I mean for Monstrous Love. We like to keep things fresh, make interesting matches happen that wouldn’t otherwise, and I don’t think we’ve ever had a were—”

“Sorry, who is that?” you asked, pointing toward the seating in a deliberate attempt to distract the sphinx before he blurted out what you think he was about to, and maybe just a little to get him to stop talking at you. Your head was already spinning without the self-conscious realization that he knew, how did he know? Could he smell that you were a werewolf? Or had you said or done something to give yourself away already?

Bim looked in the direction you pointed, his head tilting before he sat back with a sigh. “Come on out, you fools. We know you’re over there.”

“We’ve been spotted, Jim! Quick, feign ignorance, we’ll go with Plan B,” stage whispered the voice under the seating, before two men climbed out. They both looked identical, even wearing the same white shirt and light gray pants, but one was holding a camera pointed at the group of you while the other had a microphone similar to the one Wilford was still holding in the hand not gripping his gun. “Hi there, I’m Jim, and this is Jim, and we’re here with Jim News.”

“Slow news day?” Bim asked, with a knowing look.

“The Jims are not scheduled to be in Studio 3 at this time,” Google announced. “Perhaps an escort back to their assigned floor is in order? Again?”

“Just working on a new potential segment,” Jim said. “Learning more about the people who come and go here at the studio. A behind the scenes kind of look, if you will.”

“Has anyone signed off on this segment?” Google asked, in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer and was just itching for an excuse to tell them.

“Uh…” Jim looked at Jim, who shrugged. “We were hoping to get some raw footage to start with, you know, something to show with our idea?”

“Unauthorized filming is strictly prohibited,” Google said. His eyes seemed to take on a strange gleam as he continued, “This activity will be reported and considered by the appropriate departments. Until then, hand over your camera for proper disposal.”

Jim whimpered, holding his camera close to his chest and Bim cleared his throat.

“It’s still studio property, Google. Pretty sure you can’t do that.”

Google frowned before settling on, “Then allow me to access the recording and wipe it.”

“Or, we could let one of the producers look at it first and decide whether they want to keep it?” Jim suggested, stepping in between his brother and the magitek unit. “Isn’t there something about management having final say in all, uh…projects?”

Google sighed, something he absolutely didn’t need to do considering he didn’t even breathe, and the glow faded from his eyes. “You people never let me have any fun.”

“Can you have fun?” Jim asked, his microphone suddenly pointed in Google’s direction. “Do you experience any emotions? Say, of the homicidal rage kind or desire for vengeance against your human oppressors?”

“My programming specifically allows me to disregard stupid questions,” Google answered. “For now, no more filming without clearance or I will take it upon myself to act accordingly.”

Jim sighed and motioned to his brother, who turned off his camera and protectively tucked it under his arm. “Fine. But we still need content of some kind, after the Institute cancelled on us again.”

His brother tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, causing you to wince at even the small sound. Had the studio lights always been this bright?

“Now there’s an idea, Jim! What about an interview for our podcast? No filming involved!” Jim looked around the room and said, “Any volunteers?”

“You’ll have to talk to my agent first,” Bim said, studying his claws.

Jim glanced at Google, whose scowl told him to keep looking, and Wilford, who was casually cleaning his gun with the bottom of his shirt, and decided to keep going before settling on your group. “What about you three? You look like the kind of people to have a story to share.”

You took a quick step back when Jim stepped forward, panicking as you said, “No, I—I’m nobody, we’re just—”

“Balderdash!” His booming voice combined with the weight of Wilford’s arm around your shoulders nearly knocked you off your feet, never mind the way your heart stopped when you braced yourself for what he would say next, only for Wilford to continue, “Nobody’s nobody. Look at your nifty little badge, says right there, VIP Y/N.”

You hissed slightly, trying to force your brain to behave as you said, “Either way, I don’t…”

“You okay, Y/N?” Chase asked, Jameson right there with him. You noticed that Chase was keeping a hand over his badge to hide his own name, that Jameson was signing something, his hands moving too fast and slow at the same time, that too many people were looking at you—

“I just…need a minute to sit down,” you muttered. Dimly, you were aware of someone showing you to a nearby folding chair, letters on the back of it jumbled together but maybe a name or something. You breathed out, and back in, forcing yourself to tune out Jim and Jim persisting in asking Chase and Jameson what they did, Bim and Google discussing plans of their own, everything until you could find just one thing to focus on like the Host said.

You opened your eyes to find Wilford, sitting in a similar chair to your own in front of you and leaning so far forward that he practically filled your vision.

“Glitz of showbusiness getting to your head a little?” he asked, his voice thankfully not quite as loud this time.

“…Something like that,” you muttered, eyes searching his face for any sign of recognition, anything, until they latched on something you had noticed before, something you couldn’t help but focus on until you found yourself saying, “Pink.”

“Hm?” Wilford reached up and brushed his mustache before smiling. “Do you like it? I had an afro, same color, but apparently it wasn’t the right ‘look’ for this place. I wonder where I put that...”

It was the first color you had seen since regaining your eyesight, the fluorescent pink of his mustache absurdly bright in the otherwise gray-scale world around you. Once you saw it, it was almost impossible to look away from until you realized that he was watching you, the expression in his eyes familiar enough that, for just a moment…

“Wilford, Google and I have been talking, and we think this could be the perfect opportunity to get—I mean, see if you’re a little more…suited for your own kind of segment, a talk show with your own spin on it. I’m sure the Jims would be happy to take you off my paws, er, only to show you how they go about it sometime. Maybe once the Jims are done with their interview with the boys over there, they can give you some ideas on how to do your own thing?” Bim asked, and you looked up to see him and Google standing nearby.

“Hm?” Wilford looked around as well, as though just now realizing who Bim was talking to, and said, “Sure, sure. It’s what I said from the start, I do have a way of getting people to open up.”

“Preferably without knives,” Bim muttered, but behind him Jim called, “No promises!”

“I will take the idea to Kathryn and see what she has to say about it,” Google added.

“I don’t suppose you could leave out the part where I shot one of the interns?” Wilford asked hopefully.

“No,” Google said without a trace of hesitation, causing Wilford to deflate a little. “This should not take long. Please commit only the minimal amount of mayhem in my absence.”

This last comment seemed to be directed at Wilford in particular, who beamed at him and said, “No worries, Googs, I’ll keep a close eye on Y/N here. They do look like the troublemaking type, don’t they?”

Google frowned but chose not to continue this conversation, instead turning and walking out of the studio. Bim, however, moved closer to your chair and smiled as he said, “Do keep an open mind about the show, okay? Here’s my card…”

He reached toward the strangely fitted suit he wore, only for his paw to fail to find the breast pocket. After a few attempts, he looked at you and you reluctantly let him get close enough for you to reach into the pocket and pull out a business card with his name and number on it that probably would have been impossible for him to handle on his own with those claws. This close, you definitely heard the sphinx sniff again, as well as the way he swallowed before he said, “Right. Just…anytime, uh, Y/N. If you all will excuse me.”

He stood and walked through the double doors, whose size alongside the large hallways and spacious elevator now made a little more sense, even if he still had to duck his head to keep from hitting the top of the doorframe.

“He has good taste, that fellow,” Wilford said, with a smile that left you second-guessing his words. “Are you even looking for a special someone, Y/N?”

“I’m…looking for someone,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “But I’m not interested in going on some dating show.”

“Ah! Still, you should keep the card, just in case,” Wilford said with a wink. “Never know when you’ll change your mind, eh?”

“Never know what Marvin would do if he found out I let you get on some monster matchmaker show, either,” Chase said as he walked up. “Feeling any better, Y/N?”

“A little,” you answered, but judging by his expression, he knew that was a lie.

“Could you…?” Chase asked Wilford, who stared at him for a moment before he realized what his gesture meant.

“Right, I’ll just give you two a minute,” Wilford said, leaping up from his chair and walking a short distance away, where he started whistling.

Chase shook his head before crouching down next to you, keeping his voice low as he said, “We don’t have to stay here, Y/N. If this is too much, we can just go. I’m not even sure if this Wilford guy knows anything about Abe anyways.”

“He does,” you said, sounding a little too forceful before your confidence washed away. “At least he should, but it’s like…”

“Like nothing’s going on upstairs?” Chase asked, glancing at Wilford. He studied him for a moment before saying, “Jim wants to interview me and Jameson, get our perspectives on entertainment from ‘nontraditional points of view.’”

“I’m sure Jameson has a lot to say about that,” you said, and Chase grinned.

“Believe it. Point is, we can keep them distracted and give you a chance to talk to Wilford on your own, if you think you can get something out of him. Or, we can leave right now and call this a dead end.”

“…I might know something I can try,” you said softly. You knew you should tell Chase who he was, but you also knew that there would be no arguing when he and Jameson insisted on getting you out of this building, now, once they knew. Maybe that was the right thing to do, but you had so many questions, starting with why Wilford was pretending not to recognize you. How did he even end up here, of all places?

“Okay,” Chase said, placing a hand on top of your own as he added, “We’ll be in the recording studio on the Studio 5 level, so don’t hesitate to come and get us if you don’t feel comfortable or just want to get out of here. And please, just…stay away from Bim Trimmer. Like, really far away. There’s rumors and maybe it’s just anti-monster stuff, but I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to become the next star of Monster Love. And you and Jameson be careful what you say in front of those guys, too,” you said, indicating Jim and Jim with a tilt of your head.

“Monstrous Love, and yeah, we will.” Chase sighed, and you could tell he was second-guessing whether this was a good idea or not, even as he said, “Good luck, Y/N.”

“See you soon,” Jameson signed behind him, before the Jim twins ushered him and Chase out the door.

Leaving you alone with the man who shot and, technically, killed you all those years ago.

((End of Part 22. Thanks as always for reading! Just a couple of notes here that I couldn’t put up top for spoiler reasons.

Things I learned for this part: just enough terms to make it sound like Google knew what he was talking about when he was showing them around, and that wax bullets are a thing that illusionists used to use for tricks involving guns. They can also hurt people, so maybe letting Wilford keep the gun is still a bad idea. Also, in case it wasn’t clear, this Google isn’t wearing a gray shirt, it’s just what Y/N can/can’t see color wise.

Link to Part 23: Almost Too Easy.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #werewolf au #monster au #wkm district attorney #wilford warfstache #googleplier #bim trimmer #chase brody #jameson jackson #jim news #bim knows you have to wait until the contestant gets too many questions wrong #THEN they're fair game #probably a good thing Chase didn't get that internship

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s-creations · 5 years ago

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Return the Flames - Chapter 1

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

It’s amazing how one outside source could influence an entire planet and change it’s view. Okay, maybe the ‘entire planet’ might be an exaggerated size. But, big key players were involved with the overall growth. So, it felt as if the world shifted when the time wielding child left to race among the stars once more.

Mustache Girl, discovered to be named Mu when the dust settled, had seemingly disappeared. Her usual hideout had been cleared out. With no signs of her remaining there or found to be anywhere else on Mafia Island. There was a theory that Mu had hopped onto one of the many shipment boats and had left said island as soon as she could. If that was true, it would be nearly impossible to find her. No one could fully tell if this was a good or bad thing.

The Mafia boss had officially retired when he couldn’t find a new body to use. Apparently the price was too high to pay for someone to give up their own. Losing that intimidating edge and just being gross, he announced his leave and traveled to the nearby mainland. There he found his new calling: being the store manager to a small fish market operation. Apparently, no one wanted to argue about prices against a goo of a human being that survived in a jar. Between the harsh words and rather disturbing appearance, people lost their argumentative spark quickly.

The rest of the Mafia scrambled to figure out what to do with themselves. It took a lot of soul searching and late night conversations for a solution to be found. They reached the conclusion that they all worked better when they’re told what to do and decided to turn the island town into a high end luxury resort. Cooking Cat had taken the chief helm and taught a large team of Mafia members how to be proper cooks. It would be bad if a customer complained about food poisoning.

Subcon Forest, while still downright terrifying and with Vanessa a heavy threat over the citizens, had seen the number of lost souls consumed by that place dropped. The Snatcher had apparently changed stance on determining which souls were meant to be taken. Namely those who were weighed down by a lot of sins. If asked, he would claim it was due to those being more filing when eaten. No one had the needed bravery to really question the twisted spirit’s reasoning. So, more living beings started leaving the woods. Confused, with their souls still in place, and all at the cost of a high-five.

But the biggest change came from Dead Bird Studio. If one was interested in movies (which was a good majority of the planet) they knew of the rivalry that ran that place. Or did run that place. The Conductor and DJ Grooves announced, shortly after Hat Kid’s departure, that their feud was over. More or less. Everyone knew that years of animosity couldn’t be solved or swept under the rug, to be forgotten about overnight.

So, it was an difficult uphill battle to learn what it meant to actually work together peacefully. Between Conductor’s anger and Grooves’ rather smug attitude, it was a hard progress. Both directors used a lot of late nights to find even ground. After a few months, they had reached a level of comradery that couldn’t really be qualified as ‘being friends’. Business partners was probably the best title.

Which was still an achievement to marvel at, if Grooves was completely honest. But the worry of getting into a shouting match with Amos was now at the bottom of Dominic’s list.

When the studio had been open for the first few months, they gained the title as the ‘studio with the hot headed director’. Dominic seeing first hand how deranged the other could become. The penguin could chalk it up to first time jitters. After all, opening up a business in the same building with someone you deemed as a rival was not the most calming experience. Add on top of that the tense world of film making and Grooves was surprised he didn’t eventually turn to biting off a few heads when things went wrong. But as Amos’ anger seemed to grow, Grooves began to worry that the director was going to have a heart attack from his numerous outbursts.

What he was not expected was for the owl to suddenly have his ears erupt into flames . The only thing that pulled Dominic from his shocked state of mind when the sprinklers suddenly activated. All in attendance having to evacuate until the place was dried out.

Unable to ask Amos directly (and already knowing the director wouldn’t have answered his questions anyway) Dominic had gone to the Express Owls for answers. He had been told that their director suddenly creating flames was something normal to see. Amos even had occasions where he would actually have smoke rising off of him. The penguin asked how this was even possible. As far as he knew, this was not a normal occurrence, and working with someone who could burst into flames at any time seemed a dangerous factor. Especially if it became a worry they’d lose the studio because of this. But Dominic was assured that Amos had his ability under control. That day was just a build up of bad moments that tore at the owl’s patient until it was just released.

That didn’t mean Dominic didn’t start carrying around a small fire extinguisher whenever he had to be near Amos.

Amos, on his part, was not a bird who opened up about anything. So, he never explained to anyone why he had this ability, with the Express Owls just accepting the idea their boss could handle himself. And, true to their word, Dominic didn’t see that many open flames coming from the angry owl. During their early years that was.

Now, however, the worry had reached a new level of concern. Because Amos’ anger seemed to have suddenly grown. Even after the feud was put away. The control the other director had over the years seeming to have disappeared. Now the owl bursting into flames, full flames covering his body, when his mood was even. With another worry arising when he was around open flames and his anger made those grow dangerously. So much so, Dominic put his foot down on allowing open flame to be anywhere near the studio. Which annoyed Amos as now his movies lost a touch of authenticity. In turn causing the owl’s already short fuse to become shorter.

It had become a dangerous, endless cycle. One that Dominic had to intervene before things got too out of hand. Something he was going to take care of today. Because he was afraid if he waited too long, they’d lose the studio they’d just started to work together in.

Recording was done for the day and the studio practically empty as Dominic made his way to the Western-themed portion of the building. Asking a few lingering owls where their director was, he was directed towards Amos’ office. The partially closed door had light emitting from the cracks. Dominic gave his thanks before heading over. Raising his hand up to knock, the penguin paused hearing Amos’ daughter’s name.

“Amelia...no, listen… Aye, ‘m aware. But you’re in no condition ta take me… I know, I know… No, flyin’ is too dangerous. Ya know know I hate those death machines and there’s no easy exit for me ta take in case of… In case I have an episode.”

Dominic leaned against the wall, frowning. He probably shouldn’t be listening in.

“There are no tracks that run there. Besides, the train will be in use. I can’t change that just ta better me. No- no, that’s not what I mean… People rely on the train… I don’t know who ta ask. I don’t know anyone who would want ta travel that far.”

Amos laughed softly after a pause on his end. “Uh oh, someone sounds fussy… Aye, I'll keep ya up ta date as best I can… No, no, don’t ya fret about this. I’ll figure somethin’ out. Rest well Amelia, I’ll call tomorrow. ...Love ya too.”

There was the clatter of something heavy hitting the table. Dominic could only assume it was the owl’s phone being dropped. Braving his chance, the penguin pushed the door open. He found Amos, bent over the writing table with a discarded cell phone next to him. The owl looked in complete shambles.

Feathers were ruffled, randomly sticking out at odd ends. Some were even starting to turn gray. The familiar white button up had its sleeves rolled up over the elbows, the cross suspenders hanging limply from the black pants they were connected to. The similarly colored jacket was pooled at the Conductor’s feet.

“If ya have somethin’ ta say, come in and get it out.”

Amos’ growl broke Dominic’s stupor and the penguin closed the door behind him as he entered. “So-”

“How much did ya hear.”

“Enough that you know that you need to get somewhere with no reliable way to get there.” Dominic answered, pulling another chair towards the table.

“Didn’t know ya were one for eavesdroppin’. Hopin’ ta find a usable script for yer movies?”

“I’m going to ignore that last comment. I came to see if you were okay. Your ability is getting out of control and it’s becoming a concern. More than it’s been previously.”

“‘M aware of that. That’s what I was tryin’ to fix.”

“You need a ride to get there? To wherever this ‘fix’ is supposed to be.”

“Great deductive skills.”

Dominic let out a heavy sigh, tamping down the slowly rising anger within. “What I’m trying to say is that if you need a ride, I would like to offer my assistance.”

Amos sat up at that, ears perked up. “...What?”

“I will offer you a ride.”

“Ya don’t even know where I’m goin’!”

“It seems you’re desperate to get where you need to go. With your flares, it would be foolish for you to travel alone or in a confined place that you wouldn’t be able to leave when you needed.. So, let me help you.”

“...Are we...alright enough with each other ta be stuck in a car? Together? For so long?”

“How long is this journey?”

“I need ta get ta Starlight Peak.”

“I- That’s halfway across the planet!”

“Ya can see why this is a bit of an issue fer me.”

“Why do you need to get there?”

The owl huffed, ruffling his feathers further. “I’ll explain, if ya promise you’ll take me, and ya don’t ask further questions.”

“Those are pretty high demands.” Dominic crossed his arms.

“This...is not somethin’ I want a lot of people to know about.”

Dominic wasn’t ready for that answer. For as long as he’d known Amos, the owl has never been one to share any personal information. It took Dominic almost 8 years to learn he had a daughter and a few more months to know about his grandchildren. Which was really the only thing Dominic knew. Amos was short tempered but closed-lipped. Loud but private.

So, seeing him here, quiet and withdrawn, ears folded and arms crossed…

Dominic didn’t like it.

“I will take you and I will not share with anyone what you’re about to tell me.”

“And…”

“And I will not ask further questions.”

Taking that as an adequate answer, Amos sat up and faced Dominic properly. “I have this… ‘condition’ where I have this… I have fire burning in me.”

“Ah...I wasn’t ready for that. Wait, like an actual fire?”

“Aye, where did ya think my fire came from?”

“To be honest, I’m not really sure. Now that I know however, it kind of makes sense.”

“Well, that fire is burnin’ brighter everyday. More than what I can contain and control. There’s something at the peak that will help tamper that fire back down.”

“Tamper the fire down? What does that-”

“Ah, ya said ya wouldn’t ask questions!”

“Alright! Alright…” Dominic raised his hands in defense as Amos glared him down. As the owl sat back down, Dominic felt himself relax. “It’ll take us at least a week to get there and back.”

“Aye, ‘m aware.”

“We’ll need to shut down the studio for that long.”

“Ya worried about fallin’ behind on filming.”

“You wish. I’m more worried about the paparazzi. If they get wind of this, they’ll have a field day wondering where we’re going.”

Amos groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Peck, I forgot about that. Do ya think we could slip out without the peckin’ buzzards findin’ out?”

“You’re joking, right? The first day we don’t open, they’ll be hunting us down. If not the day before we depart. Speaking of, when do we need to leave? I’m assuming the sooner the better.”

“That would be ideal. But I do have a few things ta take care of before we do.”

“How about the day after tomorrow?”

Amos nodded to that suggestion. “Sounds like our best idea.”

“Best get to packing then.”

“Aye...and leave your peckin’ platform shoes here!”

“You just don’t care for style.”

“Do ya really want ta climb a mountain side in those shoes?”

“...Fair point.”

#A Hat In Time #discotrain #the conductor #dj grooves #s-creations #fanfiction #ahit conductor #ahit dj grooves #multi-chapter

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third-rail-vip · 5 years ago

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20 OTP Questions

Tagged by @tarberrymentats thank you so much for the tag! <3

I’m going to tag @minuteminx @asaara-writes @pchberrytea @mayihavethisdanse @potatocrab @laurelsofhighever and anyone else who wants to, tag me because I’d love to see your OTPs!!

I might have gone a bit overboard, so I’ll put most of this under the cut…

Mac x Ivy

1. Who can outdrink the other?

Oh, definitely Mac. They learnt that the first night they met, not that she was trying to keep up it’s just Ivy is a thorough lightweight. He didn’t like questions, she can’t help but ask them, so the deal was one shot per question. She is smol and cannot hold her booze. Two centuries on ice and she seems to have lost some of the tolerance she built up in college. Magnolia had to tell Mac to make sure she got to the Rexford ok. Of course, en route she picked up multiple jobs and talked Fred into giving them 500 caps for going to Hallucigen. Mac was gobsmacked, it was the beginning of a beautiful if unexpected friendship.

These days if you give her too much, you’ll find her sat on the floor in the corner of Railroad parties with Tinker Tom talking conspiracy theories.

2. Who says “i love you” more?

Probably Mac, but not because he loves more, but because he’s definitely the more vocal of the two of them. Words are one of his main love languages. Plus, he’s lost a partner before (which Ivy hasn’t) and there were things unsaid in that relationship that he’ll always regret, so he knows the importance of telling the people you love how you feel, and telling them often. Ivy is more of a show than tell, even though she’s the type to fall first, she’s been hurt before by exactly that so she’s slower to use the words and breaks them out less often. She shows she loves him through her actions.

3. Who has trouble sleeping alone?

Very much Ivy, not that Mac doesn’t to some degree, but this is a scary new world for Ivy and she feels very much safer having someone there. She was a wreck when he was away in the Capital Wasteland and really struggled to sleep at all. She is more likely to not be able to get to sleep if she’s alone. Mac is more likely to have a disturbed night, waking up feeling an absence.

4. Who swears more?

Ivy. She may look sweet but she really can have a foul mouth. She will basically swear for Mac as well. He’ll cut himself off and she’ll fill in the blank. She resists the urge, or at least desperately tries to pick other words at the last second when the kids are about. It doesn’t always work well.

5. Who does more of the housework?

It’s shared. Ivy makes more mess though, she’s clean but untidy. She seems accumulate way more stuff than Mac does, and boy does she spread it around the house. She’s also very distractible, so he can get back and find a half-risen loaf in the kitchen, which she’ll have left, having had a thought about something she wanted to draw while it was still in her mind. So, the sketchbooks are out in the living room, but then she’ll see a sketch of Mac and remember she was going to fix the arm on his duster again. And so on and so forth. Mac isn’t without guilt, there are always comics on various surfaces, left open (taking up maximum room) to show Ivy or the boys the best bits. If Codsworth had lungs, he’d hyperventilate. She will tidy up after herself though, when she realises she’s left everything all over. I mean, nobody wants to hear a Mr Handy cry pre-recorded tears.

6. Who forgets their anniversary?

They don’t technically have an anniversary, actually getting together was a bit of a messy and protracted process. The easiest date to remember is Halloween when they first met in Goodneighbour. Maybe one day they’ll have an official anniversary for something else, but for now.

7. Who steals the duvet in their sleep?

Sometimes they can have a bit of blanket tug of war going on depending on who got into bed first. Ivy was nesh even before the war, but two hundred years on ice has done her no favours. She gets criminally cold hands and feet. If they were just sharing a bed before they got together, Ivy would 100% steal that duvet, but these days she just wraps around her mercenary and they sleep like a little two person blanket burrito.

8. Who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring?

Neither keeps the other awake. Mac is the one who snores, but they are little damn kitten snores, like his sneezes. If anything is going to keep Ivy awake, it’s him falling asleep first and her just silently going “awwwwww” at her adorable boyfriend.

9. Who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them?

This is totally Ivy and cats. They have dogmeat of course, but he’s his own man and he’s always welcome with them, but he’s not really theirs. Ivy love cats, she will sneak off to play with settlement cats when she should be doing far more minutemen type activities. They are definitely slowly accumulating cats at their most regularly visited settlements.

10. Who usually makes dinner?

Ivy enjoys cooking most out of the two of them, and she’s rather good at it. Getting better all the time as well since her and Codsworth are doing their best to remember and collect pre-war recipes, or at least work out how to make equivalents. Mac is a reasonable cook, but over the years he’s generally been happy to exist on pre-war ‘just add water’ kind of food, rather than cooking from scratch, which is definitely Ivy’s jurisdiction. But if she’s cooking, and if he can persuade Codsworth to leave them to it, he loves to cook with Ivy. Even more so when the kids want to get involves too.

11. Who plays their music out loud?

Oh god, they both do. The pipboy radio is always going. Turning it right up and singing along is almost mandatory. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you might catch Ivy playing the guitar or the piano and singing. She’s usually shy about it, but she’s good. She’s performed once at The Third Rail as a birthday present.

12. Who hogs the bathroom?

Given the opportunity of a hot shower in Vault 81, you will lose Ivy for so long you’d think she’d drowned. Drenching herself in enough scolding hot water to supply a minor settlement, truly is the most self-indulgent of self-care. Mac isn’t the biggest fan but he can be persuaded. The only time he’ll hog the bathroom is when it’s time to keep that goatee in tiptop condition. He’s very particular about it.

13. Who gives the most compliments?

Like with saying ‘I love you’ most, Mac is definitely the one who lays on the compliments. He learned early on that Ivy isn’t used to being complimented like that, or at least, it’s been a very long time since she was treated that way. He’s almost made it a personal mission to set that right. How easily she blushes at them is just an added bonus.

14. Who usually starts/causes arguments between them?

They aren’t an argumentative couple, from past experience, Ivy does not cope well with that kind of confrontation within a relationship. They are more likely to snark if something has annoyed them, but are actually really good at reading each other’s body language for when something they’ve done has upset the other. But if it comes down to it, Mac is more likely to be the one to get into a more heated discussion about something that’s upset him. Ivy is the one to calm a situation. The only time they’ve had an actual stand up row was during Blind Betrayal.

15. Who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?

They aren’t afraid of a bit of public bantering, and will definitely play up for an audience if they’re in the right mood. Ivy is a little more inclined to publicly tease Mac in one way or another, but that might be more because Mac suspects she can deal it out better than she can take it, rather than her being the more equipped to do it. Although when it comes to quietly flustering her in public, that is very much Mac’s jurisdiction.

16. Who gives the other cringeworthy pet names?

There’s a definite teasing edge to most of the nicknames they call each other, they’re both more comfortable with being called them when there isn’t too big of an audience around. But I guess Mac would be more embarrassed by Ivy’s habit of calling him anything beginning with ‘sweet’ – it’s not good for his tough mercenary image, you know. Mac doesn’t care who hears him call Ivy ‘angel’, he’s being calling her it for so long (way longer than they’ve been together) but he might draw the line at shouting ‘kitten’ across Diamond City marketplace. Most other names they call each other are more along the lines of compliments or abbreviations of their names.

17. Who fusses over the other when they get sick?

Ivy is definitely the more diligent medic, and a very well qualified worrier. So when Mac is hurt, she’s all over that, and he regularly jokes that she carries enough gear to set up a small field hospital with her at all times. Not that that habit hasn’t saved their asses on multiple occasions. Mac is more likely to get genuinely scared if Ivy is badly hurt or sick because of past experience. When it comes to just being a little bit poorly, Mac will milk it like an absolute drama queen. Ivy is a soft touch and will let him. But she’s also very good at telling when he’s better and is just looking for extra attention. She’ll make up ‘treatments’ to see if he’ll keep up the charade and how committed he is to being waited on hand and foot.

18. Who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?

For a guy who can mature a grudge like a fine wine, Mac has never ever been able to stay mad at Ivy. Not even in those early days when she was ‘useless’ and they barely knew each other. Mac melts at those big brown eyes, even if he tries to keep the frowns on the surface, all the anger goes in an instant. It’s rare for her to get angry at him, but if the hurt is real then she can hang onto it until he’s shown that he’s earned back her trust. It took him a while to win her back after coming back from the Capital Wasteland having not sent word at all since he left.

19. Who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared?

Ivy would be the first to cling to Mac when she’s scared, in fact she was, after very early close call. That experience rather reinforced Mac as a safe place for her, bearing in mind she’s known him from just a week after escaping the vault, he’s definitely been a grounding presence for her. When something is wrong, the first place she will seek comfort is in his arms, even from long before they were together. Mac doesn’t break down until they’ve known each other for a lot longer, but he feels safe enough by then being that vulnerable with Ivy – it’s difficult because he has always had a habit of putting himself in a protector role in so many of his relationship with people that allowing himself to be seen as scared or even sad is difficult for him. But once those floodgates are open, nothing would stop him from seeking comfort from her, even when things are awkward between them.

20. Who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…)

When it comes to big public displays, it would probably be Mac (not in the early days though, he was definitely more private then) but he likes it known that they’re together – especially to that one dude from diamond city security who keeps hitting on her. Ivy is more for subtle displays in public; holding hands, cheek kisses etc. Although there was one incident…anyway. Privately they are equally likely to be all over each other.

#otp 20 questions meme #this turned out big!#mac x ivy #then i met you #maccready #robert joseph maccready #ivy kendrick #maccready x sole survivor #maccready x f!solesurvivor #sole survivor #my art #gorgeous screenshot by mayihavethisdanse

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filmhistorymptv1145 · 4 years ago

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In your first blog post of the semester, explore the tug of war in cinema between the “classical” in cinematic storytelling and those who try to subvert it. Drawing upon examples from the films we have studied thus far, define what “classical” cinematic storytelling is and demonstrate how it functioned in an earlier period of film history, as well as its continuing legacy. Where do you see evidence of the “classical” today? Then, consider how filmmakers working in subversive modes challenge the dominance of classicism, either through subtle, indirect means or by full-on assaults. What kinds of classical storytelling approaches do they reject? How do they do that? What changes in form and content defy the classical? The films we’ve seen will help, as will the various sources you’ve been given for study. Use examples from the films we have studied, and draw upon others that you think are relevant.

Cinema is often thought to be the highest form of art, since it combines storytelling, acting, and music all in one glorious attempt to do something that feels simple, but as we find in exploring the history of film, not so much: the art of telling a story. There are many different ways to approach conveying information in a visual manner, and although the direct method might seem to be the easiest, we find that directors can get away with telling their story in the most imaginative ways possible. From the use of flashbacks, forwards and sometimes even sideways, the viewer is taken on a journey through which they are given the clues needed to piece the entire story together on their own. Directors use these various methods of storytelling often to drive home a point, possibly about how the main protagonist sees the world, or how memories are often skewed through the lenses of either emotion or possible mental illness. Telling a story on screen involves a lot of elements that were cemented as ‘classical’ during the early days of Hollywood, and many directors still utilize these storytelling techniques to this day. Others have forged their own path in defying the classical model of film, whether by altering how the progression of the story is conveyed to the viewers, or simply casting away the norms all together.

As Hollywood began to come into its own in the early 1900′s, many of the silent films that were made followed a recipe for getting its message across to the audience watching the screen. It all started off with Alice Ida Antoinette Guy-Blaché, credited with creating the first directed narrative. Up until that point, most movies that were being made were what we would call by today’s standards ‘b-roll footage’. Images of trains coming into a station, workers leaving factories for the day, and horses running were what was most often seen in early day Nickelodeon’s. Alice was the first to use a three stage story arc when she directed her first short film Suspense. Illustrating the rising action with the mother seeing the robber in the alley below her bedroom window, the climax of the husband bringing the police home with him in time to save his wife and child, and the resolution when the family is safely reunited, and the would-be robber is taken away by the policeman. Using film to not only illustrate a story but take the audience on a journey that tugs at their emotions and leaves them sitting on the edge of their seat was not something that had been done before.

Alice paved the foundation for classical storytelling in early cinema, which was firmly linear for several decades once the Motion Picture Production Code began being firmly enforced by the Catholic Church. Since villainy was to be punished and goodness was to be rewarded in the rules, many of the films that came out between 1934 and 1965 followed the same formula. The man ended up with the woman he was in love with, and they were able to get through whatever troubles sprung up in their way throughout the movie.

We see this in Ninotchka, where a Soviet agent is tempted by the love of a Frenchman named Leon and driven to betray the Communist regime of her country in order to pursue it. Nothing can come between them, not even when she returns to Russia and Leon is barred from visiting her. Even when his romantic letters to her are censored by the Communists, the hope in the story is not completely lost.

Through all obstacles, Ninotchka and Leon are happily in each other’s arms by the end of the movie. You would think that the Communist regime of 1930’s Russia would easily get in the way of two lovers, but in the glittering bauble of Hollywood, there was seemingly nothing that could prevent the linear storytelling model from rewarding the deeds of the good-doers. Not even a strong-willed, stony Communist woman can ignore the temptation of the love of a man, or the freedom that would come with fleeing her home land. Betraying their home country in the name of love isn’t something many people have to struggle with. Yet we see Ninotchka’s transformation unfold on screen in an almost eerie fashion, under Leon’s influence. At the same time, she doesn’t lose the core of who she is even after falling in love. We see this when she gets quite drunk while out with Leon, and she’s caught promoting Marxist ideals inside the women’s bathroom. At the end of the day, Leon still loves Ninotchka for who she is, Communist and all.

However, some modern films still manage to follow a linear manner of storytelling, even if they are groundbreaking via other means. Take Donnie Darko for instance. Filled with strange imagery that represents Donnie’s visions of how to save the tangent universe from certain destruction, it can feel like a film that displaces the viewer. However, if you have watched it a few times, you can see that the strange, obscure events in the story are still told in the order as they happen. From the night that Frank appears to Donnie and warns him of the world’s impending doom that is to come in twenty-eight days, a countdown begins from that point onward. Even when Donnie is experiencing visions of his school flooded with water, or being egged on by Frank to burn down the house of a local celebrity, we see each day pass by in order until the film’s ending. Images of water and fire are placed against Donnie’s relatively normal, everyday life as a high school boy in a stark, brilliantly vivid contrast.

While Richard Kelly could have chosen to present the film’s events out of order or utilize flash backs and forwards to communicate his vision, his unique and bizarre story was easier to understand since it was told linearly. Kelly still manages to subvert the norm by creating his own science behind what was happening to Donnie, between the tangent universe, living receiver and the manipulated dead and living. Kelly also did not feel the need to show the audience every last little detail of Donnie’s abilities and experiences, feeling that ‘less was more’ in his interview in The Donnie Darko Book. Rather than showing Donnie levitating off of the ground and swinging the axe into the bronze statue of the school’s mascot, Kelly instead cuts to the scene where the disfigured piece of art is discovered by both the police and the principal.

Choosing to let the audience use their own imaginations to fill in the blanks allows the viewer to come up with their own creative ideas as to how events unfold, instead of being spoon fed them shot by shot. A cult classic, Donnie Darko still comes to mind all these years later whenever the topic of films that challenge the classical model through indirect and still wildly creative means.

Then there are directors which completely subvert the linear story model, turning it on its head and taking the audience through an unexpected, wild ride where they are never quite sure if they can trust what they are seeing on screen. Robert Eggers’ newest film The Lighthouse is a story that is difficult to grasp on the first viewing. Even in just aesthetic terms, Eggers goes against the norm in choosing the 4x3 aspect ratio for his movie, instead of the traditional widescreen. It brings us closer to the actors and their rapid descent into madness, giving off a sense of claustrophobia as the dread slowly builds on screen. The movie is shot in black and white instead of contemporary color film, which leads to our eyes having fewer things to be distracted by as we watch. It also adds to the otherworldly, nightmarish atmosphere of the movie, and gives the director more opportunities to use the lighting on set to convey the deeper messages that are found in The Lighthouse.

Eggers has a way of giving the viewer a creeping sense of foreboding without showing anything scary at all. The opening shot of The Lighthouse begins with a large ship cutting through dark and stormy waters, and then we see our two main characters shot from behind with the lighthouse towering above their heads, accompanied by tense music. There’s something to be feared in these beginning moments, even if the viewer can’t quite put their finger on just what it is yet.

The audience is not sure if the main protagonist, Winslow, is a reliable character or not. There comes a point in the movie where everything we are led to believe up to that point is turned onto its head, and from that moment forward the viewer can not tell if Winslow is of sound mind or not.

The night before their shift is supposed to end and the ferry will come to take them away from the lighthouse and the island, Winslow finally breaks his sobriety and he gets quite drunk with Wake. During what we think is the next day (any attention paid to how much time has passed feeling scrambled by this point), Wake informs Winslow that the rot has gotten to their salted fish. Winslow replies that they had only missed the ferry by a day, and there is no need to ration their food. Wake replies that it had been weeks since they had missed the ferry that was supposed to take them home, not a single day. Wake also says that he had been telling Winslow to ration their food for the past few weeks, to which Winslow does not believe him. Wake comments that he does not want to be stuck at his post with a lunatic, and bids Winslow to go with him to dig up their extra rations, which turn out to be comprised of nothing but more alcohol. Wake makes a few slip-ups of his own in recounting his sailor days with Winslow, having two different versions of how he lost his leg, or whether or not he had been married and had a family. Between Wake’s lying and Winslow’s seemingly unstable mental state, there is no reliable narrator to trust throughout the film.

From then onward, the film spirals into such madness that the viewer can only hope to retain their wits enough to follow what is unfolding on the screen and attempt to piece together what is real and what is not in their own mind. We no longer have any baseline for reality to cling to at this point, between the excessive drinking on screen, and the characters’ untrustworthy narrations. Eggers gives us only the briefest, pin-prick sized moments of normalcy, such as Wake and Winslow catching lobsters for their dinner, or Winslow attending to his various duties on the small outcrop of land that the lighthouse sits on. Even then it is difficult to pay close attention to these tiny seconds of peace after having been put through a dizzying whirlwind of stimulus only seconds prior, with visions of sirens washed up on the beach, or tentacles belonging to some great, terrible beast sliding across the top floor of the lighthouse.

The linear model of storytelling that was cemented in early Hollywood is classical for good reason. The early directors and screenwriters of that era paved the foundation that modern day films still utilize nearly a hundred years later, setting a standard that directors can either utilize, or subvert entirely. It is safe to say that there is no limit on creativity and ingenuity, no matter how the director may choose to tell their story on screen. Whether they follow the classical model, subvert it entirely or land in some sort of middle ground, we as the audience are given plenty of artistic content to work with and ponder about regardless of what they choose.

#movies #film review #film #donnie darko #the lighthouse #ninotchka #classical hollywood #robert eggers

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sosei · 5 years ago

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Commentaries on the Epigraphs of Rhythm of War - Part 1

The first set of epigraphs are transcriptions from a lecture on fabrial mechanics by Navani, presented to the coalition of monarchs in Urithiru. While it does not contain any Big Sweeping implications for the Cosmere as a while, like some of the later ones do, it does present some interesting information.

I will not be avoiding spoilers for RoW, or any other cosmere works published as of December 2020.

"First, you must get a spren to approach. The type of gemstone is relevant; some spren are naturally more intrigued by certain gemstones. In addition, it is essential to calm the spren with something it knows and loves. A good fire for a flamespren, for example, is a must."

A good place to start to set a tone for the lecture, both in and out of universe. This is well known and established from the previous book. But as its been a few years since then, it doesn’t hurt to refresh the audience.

"Next, let the spren inspect your trap. The gemstone must not be fully infused, but also cannot be fully dun. Experiments have concluded that seventy percent of maximum Stormlight capacity works best. If you have done your work correctly, the spren will become fascinated by its soon-to-be prison. It will dance around the stone, peek at it, float around it."

"The final step in capturing spren is the most tricky, as you must remove the Stormlight from the gemstone. The specific techniques employed by each artifabrian guild are closely guarded secrets, entrusted only to their most senior members. The easiest method would be to use a larkin—a type of cremling that feasts on Stormlight. That would be wonderful and convenient if the creatures weren’t now almost entirely extinct. The wars in Aimia were in part over these seemingly innocent little creatures."

"To draw Stormlight out of a gemstone, I use the Arnist Method. Several large empty gemstones are brought close to the infused one while the spren is inspecting it. Stormlight is slowly absorbed from a small gemstone by a very large gemstone of the same type—and several together can draw the Light out quickly. The method’s limitation is, of course, the fact that you need not merely acquire one gemstone for your fabrial, but several larger ones to withdraw the Stormlight. Other methods must exist, as proven by the extremely large gemstone fabrials created by the Vriztl Guild out of Thaylenah. If Her Majesty would please repeat my request to the guild, this secret is of vital importance to the war effort."

"If the Stormlight in a gemstone is withdrawn quickly enough, a nearby spren can be sucked into the gemstone. This is caused by a similar effect to a pressure differential, created by the sudden withdrawal of Stormlight, though the science of the two phenomena are not identical. You will be left with a captured spren, to be manipulated as you see fit."

This set of epigraphs establishes how spren (and other things) can be trapped in gemstones, as well as how one can move Stormlight (and as we learn later, other invested lights) between containers.

The theory behind the former former employ what is effectively a magical pressure differential in order to trap the spren, which I personally find quite interesting. The Thaylen method for the latter becomes important later on in the book in multiple ways.

Finally, the last sentence feels like it has an unintended bite to it. Which comes into play later, as humanity’s usage of capturing spren and using them for their own gain is brought into question.

"With a captured spren, you may begin designing a proper fabrial. It is a closely guarded secret of artifabrians that spren, when trapped, respond to different types of metals in different ways. A wire housing for the fabrial, called a “cage,” is essential to controlling the device."

Here is where the real interesting bit begins, as metals are a big part of the Scadrian magic systems. Beginning a trend in this book of tying into whats going on in Mistborn moreso than ever before.

"The two metals of primary significance are zinc and brass, which allow you to control expression strength. Zinc wires touching the gemstone will cause the spren inside to more strongly manifest, while brass will cause the spren to withdraw and its power to dim. Remember that a gemstone must be properly infused following the spren’s capture. Drilled holes in the gemstone are ideal for proper use of the cage wires, so long as you don’t crack the structure and risk releasing the spren."

The applications of these metals and their differences are perfectly in line with the allomantic properties of zinc and brass. Zinc being a “pulling” metal that riots emotions and brass being a “pushing” metal that soothes them. As such they “pull” and “push” on the properties of spren, a sizable category of which are drawn towards emotions.

"A bronze cage can create a warning fabrial, alerting one to objects or entities nearby. Heliodors are being used for this currently, and there is some good reasoning for this—but other gemstones should be viable."

Once again: this lines up with the metal’s allomantic usage. Allomantic bronze allows one to detect the usage of allomancy nearby. Supposedly a person burning allomantic bronze could also detect other investitures, but the specifics of this have yet to be discovered.

I can extrapolate that a copper cage can be used to hide oneself from detection from the bronze version of these fabrials.

"A pewter cage will cause the spren of your fabrial to express its attribute in force—a flamespren, for example, will create heat. We call these augmenters. They tend to use Stormlight more quickly than other fabrials."

Lines up with the allomantic usage of pewter quite well, as its a pushing metal that increases one’s physical capabilities when burned. Makes one’s body able to do More.

"A tin cage will cause the fabrial to diminish nearby attributes. A painrial, for example, can numb pain. Note that advanced designs of cages can use both steel and iron as well, changing the fabrial’s polarity depending on which metals are pushed to touch the gemstone."

This one, sadly, does not work as well, as tin sharpens the burner’s senses in allomancy. But as its the pulling metal to pewter’s pushing, it makes sense that it would have this effect in fabrials. Perhaps if you interpret the pairs allomantic effects as “strengthens/weakens the body’s capability to resist external stimuli” it makes more sense? But that’s kind of a stretch.

"An iron cage will create an attractor—a fabrial that draws specific elements to itself. A properly created smoke fabrial, for example, can gather the smoke of a fire and hold it close.

New discoveries lead us to believe it is possible to create a repeller fabrial, but we don’t yet know the metal to use to achieve this feat."

Allomantic iron pulls on nearby sources of metal, so it makes perfect sense that attractor fabrials work the same way.

I remember sitting up straighter in my chair when I read the second bit, because any reader of Mistborn should be able to tell you which metal would be iron’s opposite. The answer is steel, which in allomancy pushes nearby sources of metal.

Sidenote: I’m surprised there is no comment that these metal pairs are always “natural metal and alloy”. Though I suspect that that might be in party due to Rosharans getting a lot of their metal via soulcasting as opposed to traditional metallurgy...

"One of my pleas is for artifabrians to stop shrouding fabrial techniques with so much mystery. Many decoy metals are used in cages, and wires are often plated to look like a different metal, with the express intent of confusing those who might try to learn the process through personal study. This might enrich the artifabrian, but it impoverishes us all."

The sharing of information is a Theme this book, and this is expressed fairly early.

"Advanced fabrials are created using several different techniques. Conjoined fabrials require a careful division of the gemstone—and the spren inside. If performed correctly, the two halves will continue to behave as a single gemstone. Note that rubies and flamespren are traditional for this purpose— as they have proven the easiest to divide, and the quickest in response times. Other types of spren do not split as evenly, as easily, or at all."

I suspect this has to do with how fire spreads, and thus how we view it.

"All gemstones leak Stormlight at a slow rate—but so long as the crystal structure remains mostly intact, the spren cannot escape. Managing this leakage is important, as many fabrials also lose Stormlight through operation. All of this is tied up in the intricacies of the art. As is understanding one last vital kind of spren: logicspren."

"Logicspren react curiously to imprisonment. Unlike other spren, they do not manifest some attribute—you cannot use them to make heat, or to warn of nearby danger, or conjoin gemstones. For years, artifabrians considered them useless—indeed, experimenting with them was uncommon, since logicspren are rare and difficult to capture. A breakthrough has come in discovering that logicspren will vary the light they radiate based on certain stimuli. For example, if you make the Light leak from the gemstone at a controlled rate, the spren will alternate dimming and brightening in a regular pattern. This has led to fabrial clocks. When the gemstone is tapped with certain metals, the light will also change states from bright to dim. This is leading to some very interesting and complex mechanisms."

Oh hey, an explanation on how the fabrial clocks work! Neat.

"My final point of the evening is a discussion of Fused weapons. The Fused use a variety of fabrial devices to fight Radiants. It is obvious from how quickly they’ve fabricated and employed these countermeasures that they have used these in the past."

"The simplest Fused weapon against us isn’t truly a fabrial, but instead a metal that is extremely light and can withstand the blows of a Shardblade. This metal resists being Soulcast as well; it interferes with a great number of Radiant powers. Fortunately, the Fused seem unable to create it in great quantities—for they equip only themselves, and not their average soldiers, with these wonders."

This metal is aluminium, a metal we’ve known for a while messes with every magic system in the cosmere. It is also called ralkalest both by the Fused and on Sel, which has interesting implications for the languages in the cosmere. Especially with how the herald Shalash’s name lines up with certain Aons.

"The Fused have a second metal I find fascinating—a metal that conducts Stormlight. The implications for this in the creation of fabrials are astounding. The Fused use this metal in conjunction with a rudimentary fabrial—a simple gemstone, but without a spren trapped inside. How they pull Stormlight out of a Radiant and into this sphere remains baffling. My scholars think they must be employing an Investiture differential. If a gemstone is full of Stormlight—or, I assume, Voidlight—and that Light is removed quickly, it creates a pressure differential (or a kind of vacuum) in the gemstone. This remains merely a theory."

I originally suspected that this was one of the enhancement metals, perhaps duralumin, given its placement after aluminium in this lecture. But was eventually proven wrong. Which is good, since what the metal ended up being was way more appropriate.

The pressure differential theory is interesting, but ultimately incorrect. But it goes to show that these people are making an assumption based on how their tech works. A sound one based on their knowledge, but ultimately an incorrect one.

"The world becomes an increasingly dangerous place, and so I come to the crux of my argument. We cannot afford to keep secrets from one another any longer. The Thaylen artifabrians have private techniques relating to how they remove Stormlight from gems and create fabrials around extremely large stones. I beg the coalition and the good people of Thaylenah to acknowledge our collective need. I have taken the first step by opening my research to all scholars. I pray you will see the wisdom in doing the same."

Another mention of the Thaylen secrets, to hammer in that they have them before they become relevant. Once again bringing up the theme of sharing knowledge.

#sosei reads rhythm of war #stormlight archive #rhythm of war #rhythm of war spoilers

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venmomejoy · 5 years ago

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The Lucky Ones- part 2

Thank you guys for reading!! I hope you like this chapter :)

Read it on AO3 here !!!

part one / part three / part four

As soon as Neil made it back into his interim home, he spent hours pouring over the script Kevin had given him. Neil immersed himself in the pages of dialogue and stage directions, allowing himself to leave Neil Josten for a while and slip into the mind of Alex Howell.

The Foxes was a lot different than Evermore. Where Evermore focused on magic and fantasy elements, The Foxes had a modern setting, with no supernatural aspects. Rather than flashy effects and gripping action scenes, The Foxes depicted the messy lives and relationships of the students at Palmetto High School, specifically how they interact and respond in the wake of the murder of a classmate, all the while navigating friendship and romance and identity. Neil will be playing Alex, a transfer student who is chock-full of secrets, and seems to know more than he is letting on. The irony wasn't lost on Neil.

He tried to get some sleep, but only managed to toss and turn for a few hours, restlessness forcing his eyes open. Early morning light was just beginning to filter through the windows when Neil inspected the contents of his duffel bag, ensuring all of his belongings were still inside. He never unpacked the thing, or left it out of his sight long enough for someone to go through it, but he would rather be safe than sorry. He couldn't afford to lose these things; he would be completely alienated from all of his connections and resources if he did, losing contacts for quality fake IDs and coordinates for stashes of cash.

Neil desperately needed to run, craving the blankness of mind that comes with pushing his body to its limits, but unfortunately, abandoned houses weren't equipped with running water, and he thought it was probably bad form to show up for his first day sticky with dried sweat, for as soon as they landed in L.A., they would be heading straight to set so Neil could meet the cast and crew.

If the pale pink light coloring the walls was any indication, it was far too early for Wymack to retrieve him, but Neil was too agitated to lie around any longer. He settled for a walk, needing some sort of outlet for the nervousness slowly eating through his sanity. Motion had always been Neil's most conformable state; running was what he was used to, what kept him safe. There was comfort in it- in movement, he was always in a position to escape. Sitting still left him vulnerable. It was in stillness that he could be cornered.

Swinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, Neil turned and took one last look at the house. It was dingy, stains littering the ceiling and carpet, paint peeling off in large chunks, but Neil had kept it pretty clean. No one would suspect he had been squatting there for the past three and a half months. Neil took off without a backwards glance.

With hours to kill, Neil practically covered the entirety of the town as he walked. Residential streets eventually gave way to businesses- restaurants, doctors offices', the lone grocery store. Neil let his gaze dart around, checking for anyone hidden in the shadows, any strange cars passing him on the road. He knew this was a bad idea. Joining one of the most prominent shows on television was the exact opposite of what Neil needed to be doing if he wanted to stay alive. He needed to live in obscurity, and instead, he was pushing himself into the brightest spotlight he could find. Not to mention the fact that his personal life would be put on blast; the media loved to dredge up celebrities' private information. He wasn't sure his story would hold up under that kind of scrutiny. But he needed something, something to ground him, to sate this hunger for more than just survival.

Soon enough, the town started waking up. The streets began filling as people drove to work or dropped their kids off at school. There was a good amount of people walking as well, the town so small that it was easy enough to walk most everywhere you needed to go. Several people smiled as they passed Neil, some even waving in greeting; Neil instinctively dropped his head, letting his dark brown curls shield his face. Neil took the growing activity in town as indication that he should probably head towards the theater to meet Wymack.

Within ten minutes Neil found himself at the front of the theater. The building was deserted- no one had business at the theater at eight a.m. on a Monday morning. Neil sat on the concrete steps leading to the building, his knee bouncing as he waited for the ride that would take him away from this life, away from all he'd ever known.

The theater sat directly across from the high school. From where he was sitting, Neil could see the students lounging outside the building, chatting with their friends, waiting until the last possible minute to run into class. He had chosen to make Neil Josten eighteen when he moved here, even though he would not actually turn eighteen for five more months, so he had never been inside the school. Neil had been disconsolate when he arrived here; in the midst of altering his entire lifestyle so it would function without his mother, he didn't have it in him to bother with school. He also didn't want to worry about forging parental consent, which worked out well for Wymack's offer- being eighteen allowed him to sign the contract and work on set without required notification and consent of a guardian.

A honk startled Neil from his thoughts, his hands flying to his bag as his muscles tensed to run, but he relaxed at the sight of Wymack behind the wheel. Kevin was staring unabashedly at Neil as he stalks over to the black suburban. He slid into the backseat next to Andrew, and the smile he shot Neil was nothing short of venomous. Neil kept his face blank as he averted his eyes.

It was Kevin who spoke first. "Where is your stuff?"

"This is it." Neil tightened his grip on his bag as Kevin eyed it.

"Do you want to put it in the trunk?" Wymack asked. "We have a bit of a drive to the airport."

"I'm fine with it here."He could tell he had piqued Andrew's interest, could feel his eyes roving over his bag with renewed interest, but refused to acknowledge him. He could not give Andrew any indication of what this bag held, any reason to be curious about his belongings.

"Suit yourself," Wymack said, pulling the car onto the road. After moments of silence, he spoke up again. "So, Neil, you're familiar with The Foxes?"

"Sort of. I've seen a couple episodes." Without television or internet access, it was hard to find opportunities to watch.

"Wow, too good to act with us, and too good to even watch the show? You've wounded my pride, Neil," Andrew drawled from beside him.

Neil's jaw clenched, willing himself to maintain his docile persona. He didn't need to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, and certainly didn't need any enemies as dangerous as Andrew Minyard, if the stories about him were to be believed. "It's not that, we just didn't have internet access at my house."

"Your parents spend all that time working and they still can't afford internet?" Neil just looked at the blond, unable to come up with a response.

"Andrew," Wymack warned.

"We're all trying to figure out what the deal with your parents is. Well, I am, at least. My money's on them beating you, but Kevin and Wymack aren't the betting sort, so I'll have to take my wager elsewhere." Neil snapped his head up, meeting Andrew's taunting gaze. Neil knows he's just trying to provoke him, but it still unnerves him how close Andrew was to the truth after knowing Neil for an hour, if even.

"Jesus, Andrew," Wymack groans. "Cut the shit or I'll sign you up for the next marathon."

"I'm quaking in my boots." Andrew busts out in a fit of laughter that no one else joins.

Entirely ignoring Andrew's comments, Kevin steers the conversation back towards the show. "You'll need to watch the first two seasons before we can even think about beginning production." He twists in his seat to look at Neil. "Everything builds on itself in television; the plot of this season will be in direct correlation to the plot of the previous ones. It's important that you understand everything that has already happened, how the other characters behave and interact, so you can properly play your role. A lot of characters' backstories and personalities have already been explored in the earlier seasons, and everything that occurs in season three will be written with the expectation that the audience has seen the previous episodes and already knows these facts; we cannot repeat things for you. So these two weeks, while you familiarize yourself with the cast and the inner workings of screen acting, you will watch the show. Then we can get started on the actual acting.”

Neil knew all of this, of course, and was vaguely annoyed that Kevin was speaking to him like he was stupid, but he had told them he had no experience with screen acting, and an amateur would be hanging onto his every word. Unable to stoop that low, Neil settled on schooling his features into neutrality and offering a nod of understanding. But there was still another issue:

"How am I going to watch it?" Without a phone or a computer, there was no way for him to stream anything.

"You'll be staying with us in the cast house, and we have TVs there that you can use," Kevin said, either unaware of or ignoring Neil's confused stare.

Before he could ask Kevin about the cast house, Andrew spoke up. "Haven't you heard, Neil? We all live together during filming. One big, happy family." Laughter bubbles out of Andrew's chest.

This posed new complications for Neil. On one hand, he wouldn't have to waste as much money on housing and the like. He had been nervous about blowing so much of his resources on a house, since he imagined he wouldn't be able to get away with squatting on abandoned property with so many people watching him. He would probably still have to pay a portion of the rent and utilities, but it would be far less than he was expecting, and that lifted a weight off of his shoulders. On the other, it would make it a lot harder for Neil to keep things confidential. Not only would he be at risk for people looking through his things, if he had to run he would have a whole crowd of people to sneak past. He would have to keep his guard up all the time; one slip-up could cost him his life, and he would no longer have a space to drop his act.

The conversation dwindled after that, and the airport appeared sooner than Neil had anticipated. After checking their bags and going through security, the four of them walked to their gate and boarded the plane almost immediately. Neil was surprised to be seated first class; it made sense, he supposed, since he was flying with an acclaimed director and two of the most famous actors in Hollywood, but Neil had only ever flown in the economy class, he and his mother always opting for the cheapest option possible. The plush seats were roomier than the firm, cramped ones Neil had known.

He was sat with Wymack, Kevin and Andrew sitting together across the aisle. From what he'd heard in the news, Andrew and Kevin were practically inseparable, one hardly ever being seen without the other. If they were as close as the media seems to think, Neil understood why they choose to sit together, but Neil couldn't help a little stab of resentment when he realized they had left him with Wymack. He didn't have anything against the man, but he had a deep-seated fear of any man that was close to his father's age, and Wymack fit the description. Neil tensed as soon as Wymack fell into the seat next to him, his instincts revolting at the idea of sitting in close quarters with him. Neil clasped his hands tightly in his lap, willing his muscles to relax. After the plane plateaued in the air, Neil pulled out his script and begins analyzing the lines, chunks beginning to stick in his memory.

"It's important to read the entire script, so you know what is happening in the show as a whole, but after getting a general understanding of the episode's plot you should focus on your scenes. I know in theatre you have months of rehearsals to nail your lines, but screen acting is far more condensed. You have a couple of weeks now, but typically actors get the script only days before they begin filming. No need wasting brain space on scenes you are not even in."

Neil suppressed an eye roll at Wymack's unsolicited advice. His director filled the first half of the flight preparing Neil for what he would face when he arrived in L.A., explaining what the set would look like and how a typical day of filming would go. It had been many years since Neil had been on a set, and he had been a child at that, so he gladly absorbed all the information Wymack gave him. He told him a little bit about the main cast, and he told him that he and the rest of the cast will have biweekly meetings with their acting coach, Abby, courtesy of Kevin. Apparently, Kevin thought their biggest issue was that they acted as individuals, not as a team. In a scene, the actors need to draw from each other's energies and emotions to make the connection authentic, and Kevin's been working on making the cast more in sync. He and Wymack eventually settled into silence, Neil reading his script and Wymack typing away on his laptop.

The flight was pretty short, only two hours of airtime before they were landing in LAX. The drive to the studio was quiet, the occasional comment fading into silence. Neil was staring out the window, taking in the scenery of his new home. It was dirtier than he expected, but still nice. He assumed the beautiful scenery always seen in movies was towards the beaches, not in the middle of urban life, so he cut the city some slack. The sheer amount of people he saw passing by had him clutching his duffel bag tighter. It was too easy to get lost in a city this big, to disappear and have no one notice you're gone until it's too late. Neil had been looking over his shoulder his whole life, but that isn't always enough when people are coming from all sides.

They drove through security at the studio, providing authorization before parking in Wymack's designated spot. As Neil swung out of the car, he spotted a brown-skinned boy sprinting towards him, a grin breaking out on his face. If the curls didn't give the man's identity away, his personality did: Nicky Hemmick was bubbly beyond belief, his excitement making Neil vaguely uncomfortable. Walking at a much slower pace behind Nicky was a carbon copy of Andrew- his twin, Aaron.

"You must be Neil," Nicky panted, sticking his hand out for Neil to shake when he got close enough. "How was your trip? I hope Kevin and Andrew didn't soil your opinion of us; I swear, the rest of us have manners."

Andrew feigned hurt. "Here I was, expecting a touching reunion, and this is what I'm met with? Slander, and from my own cousin!"

"It was fine," Neil said.

"That's good to hear. I'm Nicky, by the way. I play Henry." Nicky's character had always been a fan favorite; many people found themselves relating to the sweet gay kid and the adversity he faced as he came out.

Neil pulls up a quick smile. "It's nice to meet you."

Aaron didn't so much as acknowledge Neil when he looked over at him. Wymack's gruff voice spoke up. "Is everyone else inside?"

Nicky nodded. "Anxiously awaiting our newest member," he said, sending a wink Neil's way.

With that, Kevin strode forward and Neil followed him into the building, Wymack, Nicky, and the twins flanking him. Kevin was pointing things out as they walked- where the bathrooms were, where the craft service was located- and eventually led him into the lounge, where the rest of the cast was sitting. Almost all of them stood as Neil entered, a tall boy with spiky black hair approaching him first.

“Matt Boyd," he said, extending his hand. "Wymack showed us some videos of you performing, you seem like you have real talent. We're excited to work with you."

"Speak for yourself," Aaron muttered from behind him.

"Thank you," Neil responded to Matt. The man only clapped him on the shoulder, not noticing the way Neil stiffened under the contact.

Matt pointed to the short-haired girl standing behind him, a fierce smile on her face. "This is Dan, our fearless leader." Dan Wilds played Kayla, the shows main protagonist.

"And that is Renee," he said sweeping his hand to a girl with a kind face and rainbow-tipped hair, before moving onto a couple, the girl sitting on the boy's lap, his hands running idly over her thighs. "And the PDA show stars Allison and Seth. Those two are always all over each other. Well, unless their fighting. Then you won't see them speaking unless it's to hurl insults at each other."

"We can hear you, dick," Seth seethes.

Dan steps forward, halting the brewing fight before it could take off. "It's really good to meet you, Neil. Kevin said you have already started looking at the script?"

"Yeah, I studied it last night, and on the flight."

"Perfect, we want you to be as prepared as possible for your first time on set. We have a training session with Abby tomorrow, so that will give us an opportunity to feel out where you are in your skills and how you naturally work with all of us. We can go from there." Neil simply nodded.

"The table read for the episode one will be in two weeks," Wymack says. "In that time, Neil, you need to be caught up on the show and familiar with the set. These guys will all help you if you have any questions. Now, I've got paperwork to do, so you maggots do something useful for once and show Neil around." With that, he strode out of the room.

Neil stood their awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to say, but Dan quickly came to his rescue. "Let's go, Neil. We can take you by your trailer so you can drop your stuff off, and then we'll show you the inner workings of a television set."

Neil followed Dan, with Matt, Allison, Seth, and Renee coming as well, but turned back to look at the group he was leaving behind. Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron were paying him no mind, not even noticing his gaze, but he found Andrew's eyes already on his. Andrew's intense gaze never wavered as a slow smile spread across his face. When Neil didn't break his stare, Andrew cocked his head to the side, flicking his fingers in a mocking goodbye.

Neil had the feeling he would be seeing a lot more of Andrew. And he doubted it would be friendly.

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ginnyzero · 5 years ago

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Success is a Journey, Not a Destination

Last Friday, my father called me before he left work. I have a fairly close and adult relationship with my dad. He's the one I talked to before deciding to self-publish. He's a pretty non-judgemental guy with a out of left field sense of humor. We are often told we share a brain, which when it comes to working together can be detrimental because we really don't. I can't read his mind. It can't be frustrating.

But, I don't talk to him about my creative endeavors. I didn't talk to him about my fashion projects or my creative writing. I sat in the office of his shop and between screens loading with his old accounting and job building software frantically typed the first draft of the Lone Prospect and an office manual for said software. So, I was pretty happy when I published the Lone Prospect in paperback that he actually bought it even though he knows I only get 34 cents from the sale. He's not an ebook reader type of guy. I wasn't even sure if he'd read it.

My dad's reading taste is pretty eclectic. He works a lot so seeing him read anything other than the Bible or machinist magazines was pretty rare when I was growing up. When I was a teenager, his reading habits were whatever book you left laying unattended in the living room. I learned quickly not to leave my books unattended. He had the ability to flip open a book I was reading (and may not have even finished yet) and find the one sex scene in the book (that I hadn't gotten to and didn't know existed.) Embarrassing. As a teenager I didn't want him to know I was reading about sex, just as much as I didn't want to know that he and mom still had sex. (Oh the stories from my sister and cousin whose bedroom was over my parents.) When I was in college, I didn't really want to know that my father knew I wrote sex scenes. When I found out from my mother that he'd found my fan fiction LJ accounts and had looked into what I was doing online, I f-locked the accounts. (I was in my early twenties for God's sake.)

So far, sex hasn't come up in anything I've published. I can put off this dilemma for another day. (Thank Goodness.)

Last month, he told me he was reading Honor Harrington. Hard political science fiction mixed with hard core space battles. I was pretty floored. Not what I expected. Friday, he told me that he'd read my book and was actually reading it again. I asked him outright if he liked it because he won't tell me these things unless I do. (Working for him was a pain because I never was sure I was doing a good job.) He did. (He also found grammar errors and missing words in the first 70 pages that have been through three Microsoft products, two format changes and then adobe products and losing words is what happens when too many software formats collide and I refuse to touch it again or else I'll scream. But he notices these things! Engineers.) His approval and enjoying my book made me really happy. Because I want my father's love and approval. In fact, he wanted to know if there were more books.

If this was the pinnacle and definition of success, then I'd reached that goal. Success achieved.

Of course, that's not really where my goal of success lays. But it's a good, life affirming step.

Being a successful published author isn't easy no matter if you're a self published author or if you're a traditionally published author. You end up doing a lot of the marketing work yourself. You aren't just a writer. You're an entrepreneur of your own brand. And it's work. It's a journey, a road, an experience not for the faint of heart. Because you can spend hours and hours writing something, publish it, grind your tailbone flat marketing and promoting and get no response, and then spend an hour dashing off a meaningless dribble and be an overnight sensation. You just don't know how it's going to play out.

I'm at the beginning (2020 here, STILL at the Beginning it feels like) of this original work self-publishing journey. I published my first book in August of 2016 and I know that it may be years before I get more than drips of sales. I'm still on the "what type of promoting is going to work best for me" stage. (Especially since I have no money to put into it.) It doesn't make me a failure. It means I don't know where I'm going yet. I'm at the fork in the road and trying to determine which way looks the best. (I may look back at this in a few years and go, oh Ginnikins, you naive little sod.)

Everyone's journey is different. Everyone has their own realizations about themselves, their writing, creative process and what is important to them at different times. Sometimes, the first step of the journey as a writer is to realize that you can't stop writing. Then the next is whether or not it's important to you to share that writing. The journey is about yourself, the inner you and while other people may come into this journey, they aren't the stars of it. Trying to make someone else the star of your journey is at least a very big distraction. During the journey, you can grow or you can stall and stay the same.

Eighteen years ago, I started writing in order to connect with a friend. Fifteen years ago, I was writing fanfic. Where the hardest thing after having a successful story was writing the next story and trying to duplicate that success. Ten years ago, I was a big name fan (BNF) running a pairing community and hosting awards. Nine years ago, I burnt out. I switched fandoms. I stopped posting WIP. I stopped posting stories all together. I faded out of fandom. No one looked for me. Six years ago or more, I said I'd never publish an original book. Because I didn't want to lose creative control of my characters, plots and writing style. Four or five years ago, I finally had an emotional breakthrough and came up with my ideas for the Lone Prospect. Two years ago, I looked at my health and faced reality that I needed to try to get another source of income that I could get while sitting on my couch, writing. I started querying agents. Six to eight months ago, I decided to self-publish because even if I got an agent to look at my writing, it'd be another two years before I was published by a publisher. And in two years, I could publish 5 books myself plus whatever short stories I wanted.

Who knows where I'll be in two years? I don't.

Even if I'm not getting a lot of sales. Even if I'm working part time jobs or as a consultant or whatever I need to do to keep a roof over my head and food in my fridge. I won't be a failure. I will just be at another part of my journey. As long as I don't give up and I keep writing. (I can't stop writing. I get frustrated and depressed if I stop writing.) Then I'm still a success because I'm moving forward slowly, one step at a time.

One of the major realizations I had in this journey is that I don't need outside affirmation that my writing is good, that I have good stories to tell. I know I'm a good writer. I know I'm a creative person. There are stories I write, that I only share with one person because I know she'll like them too and she wants them. And if I didn't have her, I wouldn't have to share the stories with anyone else. Because they are for me. (Self indulgent character driven stories of properties I don't own and one or two I do.)

The stories I write and that I do share, they're for me too. I share them because I hope others will also enjoy them. I hope that others will find meaning in them even if it is a few hours of entertainment. But it took a great deal of time for me to come to this realization and that if people have problems with the stories I write and the way I write them (outside of technical things like grammar and missing words) then they aren't the audience for my stories. Their opinions don't have to sway me from doing what I love to do.

I don't say this out of arrogance or hubris. I say this out of confidence. I know what I do well and while I may stretch myself in order to grow and improve, it won't change my style and method of writing. There are things I can't do and don't need to do in order to tell my stories. And I acknowledge those things and move on. There are enough people out there that could and would tear me down and shred me apart that I don't need to do it to myself. (And there are lots of lovely people out there too that could build me up.)

I say this because the moment I let an outside opinion define my success, then that person has power over me. That lack of power can undermine my confidence, make me second guess myself. It takes way from me being single minded in my goals to write. This leads to fear of not being good enough, of being rejected and of being a failure. Fear leads to depression. Depression leads to being paralyzed.

And then I'd be stuck on my journey, not willing to go forward, unable to go backwards. And even if you're just taking that first step in your journey by opening a document and writing the first sentence, you've come too far to stop now.

As long as you keep going, as long as you stay on your journey, then you can't be a failure. There may be mountains and molehills or turning molehills into mountains. There will be flat spaces where it's happy and easy and storms when it's hard and you're anxious and stressed and not sure if getting out of bed in the morning is worth it. There can be twists and turns. Sure, maybe your journey will veer away from writing. Maybe there will be a new passion and a new place to put your energy. But that doesn't mean you're a failure as a writer or a person. It just means that there is a new exciting path ahead of you.

Please, don't give up on it.

#writing advice #dad story #success #positivity

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ravenfirelair · 5 years ago

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Steven universe future final review

so to give my review on the last season of steven universe. At first I thought the main purpose of this series was to complete some character story arcs and tie up lose ends that the previous seasons and the movie didn’t address, but boy, was I wrong! while I did like the season overall, I have some issues with it. The first half of the season felt very unfocused with a lot of one shot episodes that don’t lead up to anything, like when steven meets a bunch of rose quartz gems that look like his mom and he acts all awkward and uncomfortable around them which shows steven his clearly still not over have the lose of his mom even though they clearly established that he was in the previous season and in the movie, but the issue that steven still have issues to work out over his mom is never brought up again thoughout the rest of the season. The next episode focuses on volleyball or white diamond’s pearl and we discover that volleyball used to be pink diamond’s pearl and pink had some violent tendencies which caused the crack over volleyball’s eye and can’t be healed by steven because the damage is more mental then psychical. This might of implied that with pink diamond there was more to her then everyone thought there was and that she was not always the kind loving character we all know, but these issues are never brought again by the end of the season so they are left unresolved. Then the episode with bluebell felt kind of pointless because the whole episode was spend implying both aquamarine and eyeball rudy have turned good when in the end they really didn’t and they continue to hate steven instead of becoming friends with him and they just leave saying they will come back someday to get revenge, but by the end of the season they never do come back, so what was the point of that?

The episode with the two lapis gems felt kind of pointless too because the lapis gems don’t really change their ways and steven never becomes friends with them and they never show up again, so again what was the point of these characters? Then the episode where steven is over-stressed and overworked by trying to do all these different things with the gems at the same time by becoming fusions with them only to be an episode about good time management felt like really low brow writing. it felt like one of those chessy educational videos you whould show to little kids about simple life lessons, that kind of stuff I would expect from early 90s cartoons, but not from a modern progressive show like steven universe. Then there was the episode where bismuth started to have feelings for pearl when they have a night out together with friends, but again this never really leads to anything because this plot point never comes up in the season again, we never see them fully hook up together and we don’t see them become a fusion, so again what was the point of this?

But then comes the episode that me groan the most, the episode when steven proposes to connie, this is where steven and the season as a whole gets the most dumb. Connie is going away to college soon and steven thinks her going to college means they will become further apart, so he thinks proposing marriage to connie is the thing to do to keep them from growing apart, but he is not sure if it’s the right thing to do, so he asks ruby and sapphire for advice, which I think was literally the worse thing to do because even though ruby and sapphire did fall in love with each other they still done fully understand how human relationships work and that every relationship is different depending how each person feels for each other. Personally I think steven should of asked an actual human being, like his dad? That way he would have been given better advice, he would of know that even though connie was going away they still can have a good relationship and also know that 16 is way to young of an age to propose marriage in the first place and would have avoided her rejection in the first place.

Then comes the episode that eerked me just as much when steven and his dad go on a road trip together and end up at his dad’s childhood home, they break into his home and discover a lot about his past. I thought the episode was fine up until the last minute, we discover that steven’s dad never had a good relationship with his parents and that steven gets mad at his dad because he never had a normal childhood like his dad had, but those issues never get fully resolved in this episode. We never fully understand why greg never had a good relationship with his parents or why steven got so mad at his dad because he never had a normal childhood. Instead all we get is greg saying to steven that is proud of him for standing up for himself because he never did with his parents. While that is all well and good, it kind of makes it look like steven’s dad doesn't understand the real main issue going on here. Also I would of liked to have seen more of a redemption arc with jasper since this series is all about villains getting redeemed. Jasper remains stubborn and unable to change her ways or becomes friends with steven until steven literally kills her by shattering her and once she comes back to life she just fully accepts steven has her diamond and quickly changes her ways, I just would of liked to see more of a slow gradual change to her character.

Now on to the part of the season that I thought was both the best part and the most frustrating, mostly throughout the series we see all the trauma steven as experienced in his past is starting to take it’s toll on him and is coming out to the surface in negative ways by steven lashing out at people and more of his diamond powers coming out and reacting to all his stress in bad ways. I thought it was good in that we finally see the consequences of steven of going all these traumatic experiences and never really fully talking about it and steven constantly putting everyone else’s needs over his own. I thought it was good in showing how a character handles there own PTSD and that if it is not handled in a good way it can escalate in really massive bad ways and that’s okay to ask for help when you can’t handle it on your own. That being said though, it was equally frustrating to watch steven get worse and worse and yet he never seeks help, he constantly pushes the gems away even though he knows he needs help and the gems clearly see that steven is struggling but yet they do nothing. I know typically in this kind of situation other people should not push the person to seek help unless they want to seek help for themselves, but I think there is a point where someone else has to intervene in getting help for that person otherwise they end up doing something drastic to themselves (which eventually does happen to steven). So I think there were plenty of times the gems could of intervened to help steven before it got so bad he turned into a giant monster. Especially with garnet, if one of her powers is the ability to see into the future, she would have been able to foresee the consequences of steven not dealing with his issues properly or not seeking help and would do everything in her power to stop it, like maybe tell steven he if kept bottling up his issues and didn’t admit that he needs help he would turn into a giant monster.

Furthermore, if the whole point of these season was steven trying to deal with his trauma from all his past experiences, why wasn’t the whole season focused on that? Have the whole season focus on a slow burn of steven progressively getting worse and worse on not handling his trauma very well. I mean we do kind of get that in the first few episodes with steven being more short tempered, irritable and angsty, and more of his gem powers coming out, but that stuff constantly gets interrupted by one shot episodes the focus on different characters and issues that don’t lead anywhere and thus end up being really unnecessary. Then the series takes a drastic turn to escalate the big moment we all know was going to happen. So yeah, the pacing of this season felt very uneven to me.

Furthermore, I was not so sure steven leaving beach city was the best decision for him? I mean yes, I get that he needed to leave to get a break from all the gem world drama and finally be is own person and make his own path out into the world, but at the same time is further isolating himself from everyone he cares about really the best way for him to handle his trauma? Plus does steven even know how to function as an adult on his own? It’s pretty obviously implied steven never went to school, so it’s kind of unclear of how much he knows even the basics of things. Plus if he plans to live on his own from now on, where would he live? Does he know how to get an apartment or a house? Does he know how money works and eventually has to get a job? If so, what kind of job could he get? Plus him being at the age of 16 he is still considered a minor and not an adult, so he wouldn’t be able to do a lot of things adults can do. I guess those are a lot big questions the audience is left to figure out.

So yeah, again overall I liked this final season, but I had my issues with it. And far as the whole series of steven universe goes for me, I really like these series for being the progressive, unique and different show that it was. I liked how it started from a simple child-like beginning to slowly progressing to more of an adult show and had great character development with most of his characters. While I’m sad that it ended I know all good things must come to an end eventually and I thank this series for groundbreaking of what a cartoon show could be.

#steven universe #steven universe future #finalreview #tvseries review #cartoonnetwork

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seirioscanis · 6 years ago

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{ low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline }

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” -- Albert Camus

“We are unusual, tragic, and alive.” -- Dave Eggers

“I have a very childlike rage, and a very childlike loneliness.” -- Richey Edwards

“’Are you implying that shreds of my reputation remain intact?’ Will demanded with mock horror. ‘Clearly I have been doing something wrong. Or not something wrong, as the case may be.’ He banged on the side of the carriage. ‘Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel. I seek scandal and low companionship.’” -- Will Herondale, Clockwork Angel

“Many atrocities have been done in the name of the greater good.” -- Rhysand, A Court of Mist and Fury

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Sirius Orion Black NICKNAMES: Padfoot, Pads AGE: 20 BIRTHDAY: 3 November 1959 GENDER: Demiboy, not that he has the word for that PRONOUNS: he/they

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Walburga Black ( 55 ) FATHER: Orion Black ( 51, deceased ) SIBLINGS: Regulus Arcturus Black ( 18, deceased )

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Samuel Larsen BUILD: Slim and muscular HAIR: Shoulder length and thick, normally kept in a bun HAIR COLOR: Black EYE COLOR: Brown SKIN COLOR: Pale DOMINANT HAND: Right handed, teaching himself slowly to write with his left as well for the hell of it (note: the handwriting is still awful). ANOMALIES: a scar on his upper right lip, ironically a small cluster of star-shaped birthmarks on his left hip (which he hates), a few old cigarette burns on his knees SCENT: leather, old spice, barber shop hair gel, cigarette smoke, motor oil ACCENT: British ALLERGIES: slightly lactose intolerant DISORDERS: Major depression, generalized anxiety, PTSD due to childhood trauma FASHION: Punk rock baby, though probably a bit out of date compared to what muggles are wearing now. He took what he could get during school, and now there’s not enough time in the day to work, be in the Order, and go shopping. NERVOUS TICS: His body becomes more tense, and his eyes dart around the room to search for an exit (or several if possible). He also subconsciously takes a step back from whatever is making him nervous, occasionally messes with his hair to try and act casual (though he does that when he’s bored as well, so it has to be seen with one of the others to be considered a sign of his nerves). If he’s particularly high strung, he’ll lose his nerve completely and lash out, no matter if it’s good or bad for the situation at hand. QUIRKS: Like mentioned above, he messes with his hair a lot when he’s bored, usually pulling it out of its hair tie if up and vice versa if down. He paces when plotting, and purses his lips when he’s thinking considerably. When he’s particularly happy he’ll do a little jump, and he appears to be vibrating a little even afterward. When uncomfortable he’ll try to push that feeling off with either an argument or joke, again no matter whether one of those choices is the wisest at the time.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Plainview Points Apartments BORN: St. Mungo’s Hospital RAISED: Grimmauld Place, London PETS: n/a

CAREER: Auror-in-Training EXPERIENCE: He was part of the Hogwarts dueling club for two years before being kicked out for unfair sportsmanship. He also got a considerate amount of training in magic from an early age thanks to his family, and his mother in particular taught him a bit of dark magic--or tried to. Not that he would use the dark magic, but if push came to shove... he has a few tricks up his sleeve (or, at the very least, the theory behind some of the darker magics). EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Order of the Phoenix BELIEFS: Sirius, without a shadow of a doubt, believes that muggleborns and halfbloods deserve to be equal to purebloods. It took him years to believe he was allowed to have that thought process, but he grabbed onto it once he did. Despite the years of unlearning what his family tried to instill in him, it wasn’t all successful. He does still have a superiority complex, and most definitely thinks himself above squibs, muggles, house elves, and so on. It takes more effort for him to respect their opinions as equal to his own, and though he knows that’s wrong, it’s taking a lot longer than he’d like to unlearn that--if he ever can. MISDEMEANORS: Illegal animagus, chase down with James on Elvendork, driving underage on an unregistered motorcycle, his entire list of detentions at Hogwarts FELONIES: Nothing officially on record, so really he’s as innocent as it gets DRUGS: n/a SMOKES: Way too much to be healthy for his lungs ALCOHOL: Not nearly as bad as his smoking habit DIET: Generally unhealthy because he can’t be bothered to cook

LANGUAGES: English, Latin, Spanish, Italian, French, some German

PHOBIAS: Extremely loud noises, snakes, thunderstorms HOBBIES: Causing general mischief, reading what he can get his hands on, doodling (albeit a bit crudely) TRAITS: { + }: loyal, intelligent, observant, quick-witted, sociable { - }: angry, impulsive, insensitive, defiant, pessimistic

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Potter Estate, Prewett Household, Hogwarts SPORTS TEAM: Tutshill Tornadoes GAME: Wizard’s Chess MUSIC: Punk Rock, Celestina Warbeck (not that he’d tell a soul) MOVIES: Has hardly seen any, but is fond of action movies FOOD: Thai BEVERAGE: Whiskey or iced tea COLOR: Dark green

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Gryffindor WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 8 3/4 inches, slightly bendy, yew, rougarou hair core AMORTENTIA: honeysuckles, vanilla, cigarette smoke PATRONUS: Dog BOGGART: His parents standing over him shouting; recently with Regulus by their side asking why he had to die

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good MBTI: ESTP-T MBTI ROLE: The Entrepreneur

“ ESTPs are energetic thrillseekers who are at their best when putting out fires, whether literal or metaphorical. They bring a sense of dynamic energy to their interactions with others and the world around them. They assess situations quickly and move adeptly to respond to immediate problems with practical solutions. Active and playful, ESTPs are often the life of the party and have a good sense of humor. They use their keen powers of observation to assess their audience and adapt quickly to keep interactions exciting. Although they typically appear very social, they are rarely sensitive; the ESTP prefers to keep things fast-paced and silly rather than emotional or serious. “

ENNEAGRAM: Type 8 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Challenger

” People of this personality type are essentially unwilling to be controlled, either by others or by their circumstances; they fully intend to be masters of their fate. Eights are strong willed, decisive, practical, tough minded and energetic. They also tend to be domineering; their unwillingness to be controlled by others frequently manifests in the need to control others instead. When healthy, this tendency is kept under check, but the tendency is always there, nevertheless, and can assume a central role in the Eight's interpersonal relationships. ”

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric

“ The choleric temperament is fundamentally ambitious and leader-like. They have a lot of aggression, energy, and/or passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were choleric. They like to be in charge of everything. However, cholerics also tend to be either highly disorganized or highly organized. They do not have in-between setups, only one extreme to another. As well as being leader-like and assertive, cholerics also fall into deep and sudden depression. Essentially, they are very much prone to mood swings. “

WESTERN ZODIAC: Scorpio

“ Passionate, independent, and unafraid to blaze their own trail no matter what others think, Scorpios make a statement wherever they go. They love debates, aren't afraid of controversy, and won't back down from a debate. They also hate people who aren't genuine, and are all about being authentic—even if authentic isn't pretty. Because of all of these traits, a Scorpio can seem intimidating and somewhat closed off to those who don't know them well. But what people don't realize is that even though Scorpio may seem brusque, as a water sign, they also are very in tune with their emotions, and sometimes may find themselves caught up in their feelings. This leads to Scorpio's central conflict: Their feelings are what drives them and strengthens them, but their mutability can scare them and make them feel vulnerable and out of control. Because of this conflict, Scorpios, like their namesake, the scorpion, put up an outer shell and may seem prickly. But once people get beyond the shell, they find a loyal, loving person whose passion knows no bounds. Scorpio dives into all life has to offer with 110% enthusiasm. A Scorpio will be your most loyal friend, most dedicated employee—and your worst enemy, if they want to be. “

CHINESE ZODIAC: Year of the Pig

“ Pig is mild and a lucky animal representing carefree fun, good fortune and wealth. Personality traits of the people born under the sign of the Pig are happy, easygoing, honest, trusting, educated, sincere and brave. The possible dark sides the Pig people are stubbornness, naive, over-reliant, self-indulgent, easy to anger and materialistic. They are sometimes regarded as being lazy. “

PRIMAL SIGN: Squid

“ Squids are powerful personalities that can only be ‘checked and balanced’ by themselves. They are highly capable, intelligent individuals who seem to know everything. Generally good natured, they also have a hidden inner dark side which resides deep within themselves. No one is allowed into this secret place, often not even themselves. Squids will even try to bury painful truths within themselves in order to avoid dealing with difficult emotions and situations. “

TAROT CARD: Justice, High Priestess

“ Justice and The High Priestess have in common that everything is accounted for. Justice examines everything for flaws in order to find its flawless essence. The High Priestess knows the secret of everything as it is in order to encompass everything. Justice demands of everything its true nature and essence, with nothing concealed, withheld or distorted. It tirelessly weighs and measures, satisfied with nothing less than the clear, the absolute, and the irreduceable in everything. Justice is adamant and uncompromising with its sword and scales, loud and clear in its redness, fearless and certain on its throne, guarding the entrance to the temple of the secrets of perfection. The High Priestess finds what is the same in everything, the secret unifying core hidden in the endless variation of detail. She patiently discovers in all differences what is true, original and undisturbed in everything. The High Priestess is accepting and inclusive with her scroll and cross, calm and quiet in her blueness, fearless and certain on her throne, guarding the entrance to the temple of final knowledge. Unintegrated and imperfectly realized, Justice can be given to rage and haste; it can become arrogant and hypercritical, aggrieved and vengeful, or uncertain and vacillating. The High Priestess can be a conceited know-it-all, moody and taciturn, secret and unapproachable; she can be despairing and lost, or given to excess and careless of consequences. Together, they dream of the perfect, the ultimate, and pursue it in more than one kind of undertaking. They continuously seek the truth, and in its service they are drawn to esoteric studies and unusual paths. “

TV TROPES: White Sheep, Jerk with a Heart of Gold, In the Blood, Hot-blooded, Good is Not Nice, Cultural Rebel, Badass Biker SONGS: Gasoline, Halsey; The Future Freaks Me Out, Motion City Soundtrack; This is the End (For You My Friend), Anti-Flag; Hate Conquers All, Anti-Flag; Downtempo, Scouting for Girls;

IDEOLOGIES: - Actively cuts out everyone who was part of his childhood unless they’ve somehow proven they can be trusted again; he avoids his family at all costs. - The day he found out he was lactose intolerant, however mild, was a mournful day. He sulked about Hogwarts for about a week. - Legitimately tried to swim to the bottom of the Black Lake and see the giant squid. Never succeeded. - If you bring peanut butter anywhere near him he will chuck it across the room. He hates it. - Genuinely enjoys being a dog more than a human sometimes. Yes, he’s aware of the irony. - The only people allowed to make puns off of his name are James, Peter, Remus, Lily, and Marlene. He’ll get annoyed at anyone else who tries (also wise to avoid using the word serious around him for the above reason). - Keeps telling himself he’ll quit smoking someday. The likelihood of that actually happening is about slim to none, RIP to Sirius’ lungs.

#you don't have to be who they say you need to be -- { about }#dulcetask

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pennys-th0ughts · 6 years ago

Text

The Bond (Chapter two)

The hot and dark liquid went down my throat as thin small lava rivers going downhill, something that made me rip off the last veils of stupor from an overslept morning. Amara had made some blueberries pancakes and the smell was flooding the kitchen in every direction possible. The soft perfume of the fruits lying on a black glass bowl mixed with Amy’s was making a citric-floral combination that, to me, was a little irresistible. Amara came to me and wrapped her arms from behind; she sank her face in the hollow of my neck and kissed me tenderly. The contact with her soft skin gave me goosebumps and sent a delicious shiver down my spine that made me close my eyes just to enjoy the warmth of her breath. Once she had me at her mercy, she began playing with my hair, interlacing her fingers and pulling locks of it in a way that only she knew it would put me under an unbreakable spell.

– ¿Is it me or are you looking for an exciting way to start the day, princess? – I asked feeling I was losing the battle of restraining myself against her sensual charms.

– I will leave that to your own judgement, Robert – Amy playfully winked at me with her green eye.

She kept massaging the back of my head but pulling my hair a little harder this time. She was definitely decided to make me lose my temper by making the walls of my will to crumble, brick by brick. Amara finally merged her lips with mine, got her hand under my shirt and started sliding it over my chest slowly. The tip of her index finger met one of my nipples and their greeting lasted a couple of minutes. Amy’s circular movements made my chest skin get tense and by the time she let go my already sensible nipples, I was going through a rough boner my pants were hardly keeping at bay. Amara undid my belt and unbuttoned my pants and I immediately felt my underwear expanding, giving some room to my private parts.

– You are sailing in dangerous waters, darling…

Amy shut me up placing one of her fingers on my lips, got her hand under my underclothes and began giving me a delicious hand job. As she started speeding up the pace, as my grouting began to get louder until she muffled the noises with her mouth one more time. Amara was feeling really horny that morning and it didn’t took so long before she took her underwear off and take a sit on my lap. The movements of her waist were intoxicating and delicious, like the finest wine being tasted for the first time by the wisest palate. She was the sweetest wine and I was starting to get really drunk.

– ¿Am I doing it okay, daddy? – She boldly whispered and bit my earlobe.

Every move she was making and every word she was teasing me with were only fuel to the fire she had lit on me and I feared that everything will end up in a very big mess, but she didn’t and kept on going with her naughty little game. Amara was pressing herself against me so strongly that her walls began feeling tight which meant only one thing, she was ready and she was inviting me to cum inside.

– Let it go, daddy – she demanded pulling my hair backwards.

Amy sucked my lower lip and bit it after and that was it. I couldn’t hold up myself much longer and I finally released all the tension of my body to my lower abdomen. Slowly I started feeling how every muscle relaxed and tasty little spasms invaded me, running down from the back of my head to my toes. Same reaction took over Amara’s body. She was exhausted but I could tell in her expression that she was satisfied; she lied down on my chest without leaving her place and softly caressed my cheek.

– That tasted better than breakfast, princess – I dared to point that out in a mischievous tone-. I could get used to this.

Onyx showed up at the kitchen’s door and sat there while judging us in silence with his amber eyes. Then he started washing his face with one of his paws. Amy and I got dressed and picked some of the clothes up that were still scattered all over the floor. We exchanged looks of complicity and laughed since Onyx should be thankful for not witnessing a short conditioned movie minutes ago. Being also judged by a cat during such intimate moment would have been a way too embarrassing experience to bear with.

Outside the streets were being filled by an early afternoon sun and a warm breeze. Spring was just blooming like some wild flowers in the countryside; sparrows were crowding the trees and harmonizing cheerful little songs along with the rest of the nocturnal beings. Another day was slowly coming to an end leaving behind the soft perfume of rosebuds. Amara led the way to the quarry’s lake. She was excited about the idea of taking a dip in those turbid waters with no clothes on and I was starting to be dragged by the same idea.

A pale white moon was high above in the sky, shedding some light upon us, bathing our bodies silently with blueish tones. Amara was in the lake and all I could see were her slim delicate curves moving like the small waves around her. I was enjoying my little private show in silence, capturing every single detail with my blue eyes and sending them right where I wanted them to be. In the distance, Amara looked like a mystic creature, untamed and hussy; the perfect portrait of the mythological mermaid that existed only in child fairytales. Her wet silhouette seemed to be pearled by the moonlight. Suddenly she went for a deeper dive and vanished of my sight. I was started to get worried when few minutes passed and she didn’t come up to the surface. I stood up and began dissecting every inch of the lake searching for her when my eyes turned their usual color to an amber yellowish one. The spectrum of tonalities and shades were clearer which meant that I could easily see in the dark. I was getting in the lake when I finally saw her little head popping out of the water. The feeling of relief made me sigh deeply and smile like a fool at the thought of being so overprotective, but I couldn’t help it.

Amara started her way to the shore and once I had her in front of me, all soaking wet and naked, she wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my chest; as mine rested on hers, my hands holding her waist began shaking. The burning feeling was slowly crawling upwards through my arms as if I was placing them on a bonfire. Amy took my shirt off and motioned me to sit on the grass; then she continued undressing me provocatively without leaving her tenderness behind. I was undoubtedly at her mercy and actually I didn’t mind to be part of her dirty little games that often. Such level of trust and commitment had strengthened even more over time and that, ironically, instilled certain fear in me. The only fear I was afraid the most: losing her.

The look on my face must have been of complete distraction since she had to wave her hand in front of my eyes to make me snap out of it.

– Robert, – she chuckled- ¿you alright?

I shook my head until my eyes got fixed in hers then I took her face between my hands and laid a kiss on her plump lips.

It was an overwhelming hot morning when the end of everything I knew began. A suffocating day that reminded me the hell I came from and how far I have travelled to put it behind, a place where darkness and shadows were the main features of a faceless creature which primary mission was to consume and destroy. I was an abominable entity that survived because I kept on feeding on so many people’s fears and nightmares, I was nothing but a bad seed that successfully made its way and bloomed in-between the human’s mind cracks of insecurity, sorrow and loneliness. I was a rotten fruit and all the darkness a person can barely imagine. I had been designated one mission: to conquer the weak and kill the rebel minds, to infest another world in decay and turn it into a nest for the beast to breed and multiply. I was a messenger of death and death will follow me wherever I go, no matter how hard I try to deny my true nature, it would always remind me what I had been created for.

The blue cover book Amara was holding in her hand flew through the air and its pages got torn up violently ending up most of them scattered on the floor. As the object crashed on the concrete, so did her body with a thud. I saw everything happening in slow motion and the powerless feeling that flooded my body froze me on the spot disabling almost all my motor functions except for my eyes and my breathing, everything else had been shut down like a machine having a malfunction. The chaotic noises came first, later, a deathly silence and finally the indistinct screaming. Amara was crossing the street when the careless driver hit the break but he didn’t make it on time and his reckless intent to cross when the light was turning red resulted in a fatal tragedy for many people. A few got injured because of the shattered glass that flew in every direction and some metallic parts coming from both cars got detached, but only one was killed.

My knees threatened to collapse but I made the effort to not to fall, my eyes were already full of tears and the knot in my throat was chocking me more and more. I ran to where Amara was lying without looking around me. My eyesight was fixed only in one place preventing me from looking anything else. Amara’s body was severely injured and it was easy to see the many broken bones the car crash costed her. Her black hair was dyed in red because of the pool of blood her head was resting on and her beautiful but pale face was distorted with pain. I knelt by her side and got the chance to see a slight smile on her lips before she passed away. That was her own way of telling me that everything will be okay. That was her way of saying goodbye.

I took Amara’s lifeless body in my arms and whispered something to her ear that no one would be able to hear then I picked her up and disappeared using one of the sewer holes taking advantage of the shocked and curious audience still focused on the car crash.

Her body started to get cold but the expression on her face was peaceful, as if she was in some kind of deep sleep. I put her body inside the circus wagon I used to live in for so many decades and closed the narrow door. I sat down at the edge of the small stage and thought for long minutes. I was feeling empty and trapped in my own cobwebs. The desperate sensation was drowning me, dragging me into the darkest and unspeakable depths of madness. For a moment my body felt light as a feather. Suspended in the air by invisible threads, that were tied up to my hands and feet, my limbs began moving on their own making me dance incoherently while a voice very similar to mine started laughing diabolically. “¡Dance, Pennywise, dance!. Pennywise the dancing clown…”

A deathly hauling came out of my throat that forced me to fall on my knees. I covered my ears to stop hearing the guttural voices that kept spinning around me like some kind of dying swarm until the noise became louder and unbearable. There is when I gave up to my most compassionate side and decided to do something I knew I shouldn’t do, something that was punishable by death in case you get to have a soul and if you didn’t then you would surely be condemned to be torn in pieces and live an endless agony until you would be finally gone. I breathed in profoundly and encouraged myself to proceeded. I still had time but I was lacking of the most important component of this body switching ritual, the final vessel for the soul.

Amara had the little bad habit of leaving one of the bedroom’s windows slightly open. I opened it up and got inside trying not to look suspicious and making the less noise possible to not scare Onyx. Once inside I searched for him in the living room. He was peacefully sleeping in his bed next to the fire place. The moon was pouring its light inside the room from one of the windows and it looked like a soft blanket covering Onyx’s carbon black fur. I walked towards the cat and sat down in front of him, then, I gently patted his head to wake him up.

– Something terrible has happened, my little friend, – I lifted him up and fixed my eyes with his. Onyx didn’t turn his gaze away and kept looking at me as if he was capable to understand what I was saying- and I'm going to need your help.

I could feel his tiny heart accelerating and a crystal like little tear rolled down one of his cheeks. A mixture of bewilderment and sorrow oppressed my chest once more; the mortal creature and I didn’t need much more than to look at each other to understand each other. Onyx had finished creating a special bond with me and that was all I needed.

To replace someone’s old body the new one needed to make space for the soul thus it had to die. Amara had died not long ago and Onyx’s body was in perfect shape and healthy, but his soul needed to leave his body in order to Amara’s could take place in it. What I was about to do was against nature laws and every possible human right, but I didn’t care. I was blindfolded by sadness, rage and guilt, to not see it coming. My sense of perception was sharp and got more accurate over the years going beyond of any other kind of human perceptive skill but what happened this day I just couldn’t foresee it.

Onyx was lying down next to Amara’s broken body in complete silence as if he was getting ready for what I was going to do. In his amber eyes there wasn’t a hint of fear but deep sadness. Noticing his restlessness I hurried myself to begin with the body switching process.

– This is not going to hurt my little friend – I comforted him and patted his little head.

I placed four fingers on his eyes closed and two on Amara’s and began singing an ancient chanting which origins belonged to the world of my dimension. I repeated the key words three times, took a red thread and tied up Amara’s hand to Onix’s paw. Suddenly the cat stopped breathing.

Some minutes went by and everything around me was nothing but silence until something extraordinary happened. I lifted my hands from their eyes and Amara’s had turned amber. Another couple more minutes went by until Onyx finally started breathing again and there is when I cut the red cord. In that moment I felt an indescribable relief as if I had been holding my breath under water for a long time. I took the cat in my hands and picked him up carefully; I started slowly rocking him in my arms like a newborn child waiting patiently for him to open his eyes. When he finally did, I locked my blue eyes on his and felt an overwhelming joy warming my chest. And there they were, those beautiful blue and green eyes, those living marbles that stole my heart the first moment I saw them…

I want to thank the collaboration of @sunflowerskissed for helping me picking the name for the cat.

This story was made in commemoration of my little furry friend Taco, who passed away not so long ago.

I miss you dearly buddy 💔

#penny's thoughts #pennywise #short story

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