#entire soap opera in my head the DRAMA the TENSION

[singingshutin]

igleth headcanons leaking out of my ears thinking about his family showing up for the wedding earlier than expected

bastian intent on embarrassing his baby brother in front of his soon to be sister-in-law because that's the right and duty of an older brother

dad victor being strangely quiet and a little weird as he's trying to process what on earth is happening his boy is marrying a queen w h a t

mom victor just happy for her son to finally be chasing his own dreams

byleth being absolutely in awe of her mother-in-law to be and bonding to her like a lost duckling bc she's never had a mom

ignatz up on the high-wire of anxiety trying to figure out what dynamics have shifted and the unresolved tension between him and his father hanging over his head

[bonefall]

Honestly? I was a certified Nightheart hater but you've made me come around: apart from the usual Misogyny in Warriors, I think if it wasn't for that and if the Erins realized he's driving his clanmates away I would actually like him. If him joining ShadowClan and proclaiming he was Sunbeam's mate behind her back was actually treated as a flaw and their relationship imploded, it could've been really interesting! Kinda makes me wonder how Dovewing would react to him, because I can see her being understanding until he critfails their conversation by going 'I don't think ANYONE suffered as badly as I DID in ThunderClan. >:(' <3 No king, DON'T make Dovewing revoke her speaking to her priveledges from her- king why, you forced her paws! She's walking away!!!

YEAAAAHHH MANNN!!!

It's COMPELLING!! They could have done something BANGER here! This drama is juicier than his silly little rotisserie chicken and if you can just wade through the Certified WC Misogyny(tm) then there could be a really fun character there!

Like, imagine a story where all this was on purpose;

Nightheart ruins all his own relationships, can't take responsibility for himself

Bramblestar, guy who ALSO does this, becomes his best friend... and uses him, too.

The only person he could bond with was the person who was a liar. The person who never told him no.

Connect to the part earlier where Nightheart lamented how his dead father would have understood then... he only likes the people who aren't really there for him.

How Nightheart defies orders, puts himself in danger, freaks his family out, and then he treats their concern and exasperation like hatred

AND THEN HE LEAVES

And goes to ShadowClan and thinks all his problems will be fixed

Forces himself into Sunbeam's life, in the MIDDLE OF A WAVE OF POLITICAL TENSION...

Sunbeam, petty queen, who can never say no ever, letting situations spiral out of control constantly to disastrous effects: "ummm"

Berryheart: "What is this?"

Nightheart: "HER BOYFRIEND!"

Berryheart: "What... that's-"

Sunbeam (SUDDENLY SEEING A WAY TO SPITE HER MOTHER): "MY BOYFRIEND."

But then this EXPLODING because he's looking for something to fix him, and she can't. No one can. HE'S THE PROBLEM

But that doesn't mean he deserves the TREATMENT that Berryheart gives him

And it all ends up coming to a head, with Tawnypelt sick of him, Dovewing laying it out that he's a tar pit, and Berryheart moving on him...

LIKE... He's REALLY GOOD as a kid who needs to learn to confront himself. He's fun as someone who makes things worse and has the absolute worst timing ever. The DRAMA... it drives me.

Isn't that what WC really is, at its best? A cat soap opera toeing the edge of being a political drama? You HAVE to have your messy, unpredictable little brats. That's the BEST

I'm gonna have a BLAST when I get around to him, man. I've got so many succulent little berries to work with here;

Dovewing revoking his privileges. Most damning thing in the entire universe is when she just gets up and walks away from you.

Having Nightheart have to examine that he's the problem in his own life.

And yet, he's in active danger, since Antfur is going to be dying in ASC instead of TBC, as a result of Berryheart's violent group.

Berryheart, in general. I've got ideas, man. I love the evil educator idea, I hope that Fringewhisker stays in ShadowClan so I can go with that idea of Heartstar spitefully making her the next educator.

Berryheart's got Don't Hug Me I'm Scared vibes, lmao. "Now let's all agree to never be creative again!"

And on that note... she survived the Kin, that day, because her executioner intentionally let her go. Looked over their shoulder, saw Berryheart swimming away, and said nothing.

The idea that Berry tells a story for sympathy about escaping, and uses it to justify her xenophobia, when it was a Kin cat who SAVED her life but she leaves that detail out... effervescent.

And that's not even getting into anything I could do with StarClan, with the last arc in BB ending in the end of Skystar, a shattered purgatory, and the quiet revelation that Ashfur had accomplices.

It's gonna be fun!

[margridarnauds]

top five characters/moments/things from irish mythology you wish had more pop culture traction?

Thank you! 

One thing I’m going to say, off the bat, is that I know that my idea of what has pop culture traction is going to be very different than what the general public sees -- When you spend a solid chunk of your life looking....and looking...and looking at pop culture retellings, that’s pretty much all you see, but I’m aware that what might be relatively common in depictions of this stuff might still be relatively obscure to the general public. (Especially if it’s not, say, banshees, selkies, or, God help us all, leprechauns. Even though those are all folklore, I know I’m never going to win that fight.)

1. The Tuatha Dé being dicks in general. Like, with all respect to the Professor, he did possibly the worst possible thing to Irish material (and that’s including when he dissed “Celtic materials” as being like shattered stained glass) that he could have done by sheer accident when he created Lord of the Rings. Because, since that series was published, every single low quality fantasy writer has been trying to shove the Tuatha Dé into Tolkien’s elves (and a specifically bowdlerized version of them.) And the TD are...they’re fascinating to me. I love them very dearly, I’ve been going back to them for years because they’re this group of superhumans who are also petty and spiteful and sometimes rigid in upholding distinctions. They haven’t always forgiven the Milesians for taking Ireland from them, they will do everything they possibly can to screw people over, they are sometimes only loosely tolerant of the mortals (and, on Samhain, for example, they sometimes lose even that loose tolerance.) 

Like, I want the Tuatha Dé to be complicated and hypocritical and petty and spiteful while also being capable of being the best of humanity as well while ALSO being distinctly Off. I want Lovecraftian Tuatha Dé who are always just beneath the surface, I want comic relief Tuatha Dé who are still in denial over having lost Ireland and refuse to adapt to the modern world at any cost to truly ridiculous standards, I want the Tuatha Dé to be a big, high stakes family drama/reality show/soap opera with the entirety of Ireland having to deal with the fallout, I want tragic Tuatha Dé who are these kind of living artifacts in a world that’s more or less outgrown them. (I am obviously aware that they have modern worshippers -- I am saying that the TDD are drama queens and will still be mopey after having lost the entire island. Unless you have Brehon law actively being around still, they are still going to be mopey.)

2. Related to that, bruighean tales. This is not a term you hear very often outside of Celticist circles, and part of the reason for that is that these tales often haven’t been translated yet into English (though some of them have been translated from modern Irish), even though they had a wide currency in the folk tradition. What these are is, essentially...a story in which the Fianna are tricked by the Tuatha Dé to go into a magical fort, where the Tuatha Dé proceed to attack them throughout the night with a series of spells, illusions, and the odd monster or two. (The most famous of these is probably Laoi na Con Duibhe -- The Lay of the Black Dog.) Like, I feel like there’s a lot that a modern audience could appreciate about this, from the perspective of horror and the gothic. I think you could do a lot with the claustrophobia and the tension of it, with this group of legendary heroes possibly, for the very first time, being in over their head. 

3. The Fir Bolg! It is so ridiculously easy for these guys to get adapted out of depictions of the battle between the Fomoire and the Tuatha Dé, but they’re so important! (Also, more Fir Bolg who are accurate to how they’re presented in Lebor Gabála Érenn -- so many pop culture references, when we do get them, have so much....uncomfortable baggage. Like, I don’t want to say too much because there are some papers coming out on this, and it’s like...I don’t know how much I can say, but it’s just...please can we toss away the idea of them somehow being these primal “primitive” people who are associated with the earth? Can’t we let them be competent and clever and strong settlers of Ireland who established the kingship?) Especially my boy Sreng who is quietly one of the single most fascinating and complex characters in the entirety of the medieval and early modern Irish literary tradition. 

4. I firmly believe that we have never gotten enough Bres as a character, which is a little shocking when you consider how important he is to the Tuatha Dé -- so many central figures are related to him (the Morrígan is his aunt), he has a fairly interesting arc in Cath Maige Tuired (which is just a text that...I can never have enough adaptations of), and he gets a relatively large number of appearances across medieval and early modern Ireland. And, like with the TD, I’d really like to see him be done....well. Like, don’t settle for “he’s evil because he’s evil”; I want to see him get a large amount of interiority, I want to see him be complex, I want the audience to sympathize with him even as they realize that if he succeeds...it all goes down. Authors almost seem...intimidated by him, and I think part of it’s that heroes like Lugh are easy, especially when you remove the inconvenient little bits about them that might make them unpalatable. Villains like Bres, though...it’s like they’re having to hold up a mirror. We want to be like Lugh, we want to be that kind of superhuman, hypercompetent master of all crafts who is beloved and is able to conquer all the enemy. In reality, though, I feel like Bres is more...realistic. More human. And that’s why people struggle with him in adaptations, whether they excise him entirely or make him a caricature of himself. People don’t want the reminder of their own flaws.  (Also I believe that he should kiss men.) 

(On the mouth.)

(With both parties consenting to it.) 

5. Relating to #2, I feel like there’s a thick pseudo-Gothic (pre-Gothic?) vein in a lot of the Irish material that could be a lot of fun to work with. @effervescentdragon once compared Crimson Peak to Togail Briudne Dá Derga, I personally love the incident with the dead men and the Morrígan from the Boyhood Deeds of Cú Chulainn, I was recently rereading the plot summary of the short story “Don’t Wake the Dead” and was reminded of the story of Sín in Aided Muirchertaig meic Erca, the Dead Man in Echtra Nerai, this one description of a bruighean tale...I think it was Eochaid Bhig Dearg, where every single one of the Tuatha Dé is described as having a smile on their faces as they surround the fort....waiting....while the Fianna can only look on in horror and dread whatever nightmares they summon next...Medieval Irish material is often likened to fantasy and, for what it’s worth, I do understand it, especially since all the great fantasy writers were very well in-tune with world mythology and Irish is an Indo European literary tradition (albeit one that, as of the time of it being written down, had intertwined itself tightly with Christianity.) Still, I would really like to see more of that Gothic element being teased out, because a lot of my roots are in the gothic tradition and I would love to combine my two favorite things.  

In general, I suppose my tl;dr is that I would like, in general, for more nuance, more complexity, I’d like more writers to have fun with the material and to think outside the box that this stuff gets put into, I’d like to see less bowdlerization, less need to apply a Nationalistic brush to these things that hasn’t really been necessary since the 1930s. (Also, give me more Cath Maige Tuired adaptations.)

 It’s funny a lot of the time, when I see, say, arguments about Arthuriana or Greek Mythological adaptations where people will be saying “I HATE when adaptations--” and I’m just kind of in this perpetual state of “What do you mean ‘adaptations?’ Y’all get your favorite works adapted more than one time?” Don’t get me wrong, I can sympathize with seeing your favorite material butchered, but I’ve had to read a LOT of really bad self published novels, Wattpad fiction, and MySpace RPGs from back in the day in order to get *anything* for my favorite characters. And if I was ever really, deeply personally offended by seeing my favorite characters done badly....I think I’d have gone insane at this point. I think people often expect me to be very strict but the truth is that I’ve never had the luxury of being very strict. Our most accurate representation of the material thus far’s been an animated film where the day is partially saved by a spirit cat attacking a Viking warlord. Our second most accurate representation’s been Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, where there’s an evil cult of human-sacrificing druids in 9th century Ireland that ends up spurring an Irish Inquisition and the 50 foot tall Lia Fáil, which is an alien artifact, exploding into smithereens. And I think that it’s fascinating to see what the public is really interested in and what authors and creatives are putting into their stuff VS the material as we understand it. So, a part of me’s a little sad all the time, but a part of me’s also always interested in seeing how these trends play out. 

But, anyway, I hope this answers the question! Thank you again for the ask! 

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 5

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter) / ~15.1k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Kamjie (Kameron Michaels/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Lemon and Priyanka's relationship is more of a rollercoaster than ever and Rosé figures out the truth about Denali

-

“Are you still giving me the cold shoulder?” Priyanka asked, a mix of frustration and exhaustion in her voice. There was also an underlying hint of anxiety, but that was something she could address later, as much later as possible.

Lemon turned to look at her with a deadpan expression. She didn’t utter a word, instead, she blinked and looked back at her phone, scrolling in tension-filled silence.

The taller woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Lem, I told you I haven’t been avoiding you. Mark’s project got delayed so he’s home all the time. He was gonna start getting suspicious if I kept spending the night with you.”

“He keeping you occupied with that mediocre dick?” The cold harshness in her voice was, at least to Priyanka, even worse than the silence.

“Lem, don’t do this,” she pleaded softly. “You know I’d much rather be giving you my fake dick than taking his real one. But it’s just gonna be a little difficult for us to have our usual rendezvous until his project starts back up,” she explained, then quietly strummed her fingers against the bar. “I’ll make up an excuse and come over tonight… if you still want me to, I mean.”

Despite her best efforts, Lemon cracked a slight smile. “Yeah, I still do. I’m not gonna punish my pussy just because I’m still pissed at you.”

Priyanka put her arms up in surrender. “Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

Lemon swallowed a laugh as she hopped down from the barstool. “I’ll be back after my shift, there better not be any sudden plan changes,” she warned before going upstairs to spend the time before her shift in the common room.

“You seem to be in better spirits,” Jan observed as she noticed Lemon come in. She sat down on the couch with the mug of coffee she’d just poured. “I take it Pri was finally able to pencil you in for a booty call?”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that, it makes me sound desperate,” she rolled her eyes. “Her stupid, ugly, smelly boyfriend is still around.

Jan quirked her brow. “Have you ever been in the same room as him?”

“No, but I don’t need to be to know I’m right.”

“You know I worry that you two are gonna end up in over your heads if you aren’t already,” she warned in a calm, gentle tone. She’d had a front-row seat to a fair amount of Lemon and Priyanka’s intimate trysts being Lemon’s roommate and from day one, she’d had the sinking feeling things would end badly. But there was only so much arguing one could do with someone like Lemon.

And unsurprisingly, Lemon scoffed. “Look, I know what we’ve been doing is amoral, but when you think about it, it’s not even our fault. It’s society’s fault for making Pri feel like she has some guy when I’m literally right here.”

“So you do wanna date her?”

Her face reddened, which she tried to offset by rolling her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

------

Denali fixed herself up in the quick-change dressing room. It was her last main stage dance for the night and she had just enough momentum built up to go out with a bang. She looked up when she saw Gigi walk in via the reflection in the mirror. “What’s with the smug grin?”

“I think you have a special visitor in the audience.” When they noticed the confusion in the dancer’s expression, Gigi followed up with, “Rosé asked me if you were up next and sat herself front and center when I said that you were.”

“Oh!” her voice went up in pitch and volume. She cleared her throat and instead focused on fixing her platinum blonde wig. “I mean… oh, cool. I’m sure she’ll enjoy the show.”

Gigi tilted their head to the side. “Is that how I sounded all this time? Fuck,” they shook their head. “Oh, by the way, I’ve decided to go by they/them off the clock, I’ve been letting the rest of the girls know too. It's like, I've been feeling like I’m just dressing up like a girl on stage, you know how it is.”

Denali nodded as she got up. “Whatever makes you feel the most yourself, babe,” she told her with a smile, then took a deep breath as she sauntered onto the stage to the slow, seductive beat of the music. She focused on maintaining the confidence she always brought to her performances and not letting the fact that Rosé was right in her field of vision throw her off.

Rosé watched intently, and while her gaze tended to linger on Denali’s body, she would look up at her face often enough for something to click. She finally realized she recognized the dancer from her work as a cam girl. The realization made her blush but didn’t deter her in the slightest.

After Denali had finished her number, she beckoned Rosé over. She leaned down and whispered, “go upstairs, I’ll meet you there in five,” before backing off to collect her tips as if nothing had happened.

Naturally, Rosé made her way upstairs as quickly as her legs would take her and waited eagerly for Denali to join her. “You know,” she started when she saw her, “I figured out where I know you from.”

“You got me,” she replied and slowly pulled off her wig and wig cap in one go, so her black hair cascaded down her back. “I’m Hannah Montana.”

Rosé blinked, then snorted with laughter. “You’re so fucking stupid,” her tone was fond as she shook her head. “I guess it makes sense. Taking this on as a second job.”

“I’m a people person, being in front of a camera just doesn’t do it for me. Money’s decent, but still. I’ve been considering bringing that stage name over here.”

“Oh you’re not gonna make poor Heidi try and announce ‘Aurora Borealis,” she playfully chastised. Then there was a beat of silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Did you think I’d have a problem with it or something?”

“No,” she shrugged. “It was more fun making you work for it.”

She cocked her brow. “Oh, you’re a little brat, aren’t you?”

“I feel like there’s not much use in trying to argue that, so.” Denali leaned against the wall, looking up at Rosé and fluttering her lashes with coy flirtation. “You gonna do something about it or not?”

Rosé tilted her head and bit her lip, moving closer to Denali until she had both arms bracketing her against the wall. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Was that your endgame the whole time? Give me this whole run around until I was frustrated enough to fuck you as hard as your bratty ass wants?”

“I mean… yes, obviously.”

“Not in the common room, we eat and cry in here.” Jan’s voice pulled Rosé and Denali from their moment, but she shrugged when they glared at her. “What? Just fuck in the spa room like the rest of us,” she told them as she grabbed a cup o’ noodles from one of the drawers that Jackie kept stocked for the girls, and left a couple of dollars from her bra in its place.

Rosé rolled her eyes. “Bitch, I will fuck her in front of you, don’t test me.”

Jan scoffed as she started eating her noodles. “Do it, I dare you.”

“I am begging you not to,” another voice chimed in, the three women turned to see Lemon come up the stairs. While of course, she had no issue with hooking up in various parts of the building, Rosé is her cousin and that was simply a line she refused to cross. She did not care how badly Rosé wanted to fuck Denali – and yes, she knew.

“I cannot believe you’re cockblocking me right now,” she huffed, glancing back at Denali and mouthing ‘sorry’.

But Denali was unphased by the entire exchange. “Girl, just take me home. I’m still gonna put out.”

“Oh,” Rosé blinked, “alright then.”

------

Even though it had barely been a week since Lemon and Priyanka had last hooked up, it felt like ages for them. The second they were inside Lemon’s apartment, clothes were coming off and being tossed any which way as they stumbled into the bedroom, naked by the time their bodies hit the bed.

Priyanka rifled through Lemon’s closet until she came back with the strap-on, fastening it around her waist. She smirked when she turned around and realized Lemon was waiting for her on all fours. “Damn, I should hold out on you more often,” she teased.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Lemon hissed as if there was the slightest chance Priyanka would pass up time with her if given the option.

She chuckled as she positioned herself behind her. “There’s my bratty little Lem,” she cooed, holding her waist with one hand while the other guided the length of the silicone toy into her. She waited for a beat after she bottomed out, making sure Lemon was comfortable before she began thrusting steadily.

Lemon started moaning out the second it started. Her hands fisted into the comforter on her bed, her head hanging forward. Whenever she wanted more or wanted it harder, she would push her hips against Priyanka to urge her on.

And Priyanka knew what each movement meant. “You’re so fucking needy, aren’t you? So desperate to get pounded out,” she grunted. Her hand moved from Lemon’s waist to grab her hair, pulling it back while her free hand moved between her legs, rubbing her clit in time with her thrusts.

“Fuck, baby, just like that, please,” it was only when Lemon was in the heat of the moment, and close to an orgasm, that she would use words like ‘baby’ or ‘please’ unless she was trying to get her way with something. But luckily for her, Priyanka obliged without comment, and she let out a sharp, pleasured cry as she came moments later.

“That’s my good girl,” Priyanka praised, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as she eased out of her, cleaning up and putting the dildo and harness away, then got under the covers. “Come, you owe me cuddles.”

Lemon ducked her head away to hide how big her smile was, then cuddled up to Priyanka, resting her head on her chest. “Not to be like, corny or whatever, but I missed you,” she mumbled, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, lest she accidentally make eye contact.

Priyanka grinned, shaking her head. “I missed you too, weirdo,” she said and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She gazed down at her, feeling warmth and affection for a fleeting moment, before angst and melancholy built up from the pit of her stomach, coming out in a sad sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” she chewed on her lip and looked away. “Yeah, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

------

Rosé hummed to herself as she got into the shower, letting the hot water wake her up from the deep sleep the night before. And perhaps she needed it more than she realized, as she was startled when she suddenly noticed she was no longer alone. “I thought you were still asleep.”

Denali shrugged. “I was. But then I woke up and you weren’t there, and I got bored.”

She chuckled softly, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman’s waist. “Well, good morning, then,” she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You sleep alright?”

“More than alright. Pretty sure I passed out somewhere after the fourth orgasm,” she chuckled softly, trailing light kisses along her jaw.

Rosé smirked. “No wonder you’re so clingy, they always wanna stick around after they get fucked well,” she teased, her hands moving from Denali’s back to squeeze her ass. “That why you’re in here? Woke up craving more?”

“God, you’re so fucking cocky,” Denali huffed, though she had no honest way of denying that. “But… yeah, very much so.”

“That’s what I thought,” she chuckled before sinking to her knees and nudging Denali’s thighs apart. She gripped each of her thighs, keeping them far enough apart for her to trace her tongue along her folds, then swirled it around her clit.

Denali gasped out softly, resting her head against the wall. “Fuck…” she exhaled, her eyes fluttering shut, moaning at the sensation of Rosé’s tongue on her clit and her fingers easing their way into her.

Rosé continued to lick and suck on her clit as she steadily curled and thrust two fingers into Denali, her free hand moving to her waist, gripping it to keep her steady and hold her in place.

She whimpered and moaned, dragging her fingers through Rosé’s wet hair, her hips starting to rock despite her grip. It wasn’t long after that that she felt a familiar tightness building in her stomach. “Fuck, Rosie, I’m close,” she warned, and not a minute after that, her body arched forward as she came.

Once she was certain Denali was done, Rosé eased out of her and stood back upright, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Now, do you mind if I actually take a shower? I have to get ready for work.”

“Okay, okay,” Denali put her hands up in surrender as she stepped out of the shower. “You think your roommate heard us last night? Or just now?”

Rosé shrugged as she washed her hair. “Probably not, Mik sleeps like a rock. The bitch would sleep through a nuclear holocaust.”

“Fair enough, not that I mind an audience, after all,” she hummed. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” she laughed at her own joke then kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you around.” She dried off and redressed before leaving for her apartment. Everything had gone well so far, she thought, the sex was fantastic and they didn’t need to complicate it with anything else.

------

Lemon had just finished her set when she noticed something out of the ordinary. After grabbing her robe from the quick-change room, she made her way over to the bar. “What’re you doing back there, Jaida? Is Jackie cross-training the strippers now?”

“I bartended in college,” Jaida explained. “Pri couldn’t come in, said she had an important dinner to go to, and based on how it sounded, I think it’s with her boyfriend.”

“Gross,” Lemon muttered. “Gimme a melon ball and a lemon drop.”

Jaida arched her brow but made the shots for her nonetheless. “You a little cranky without your girlfriend here, huh?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” she huffed, downing the shots one after the other. “And I don’t care who the fuck she has dinner with. I’m just annoyed because she was supposed to give me a ride home. Since, you know, Jan spends more time at Nicky’s than anywhere else.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” she offered with a shrug. “Something tells me you’re not gonna wanna be alone tonight.”

Lemon smiled weakly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She was quiet for a few beats with her downcast gaze on the bar, until she finally looked back up at Jaida and asked, “can I get another lemon drop?”

And, as it turned out, Lemon would need the adult supervision. Once her shift ended, she had gotten much more drunk and needed to be hauled into her apartment and tucked into bed, where she passed out almost instantly.

Jaida had stayed awake and watched Lemon for a little while, feeling almost a maternal instinct when it came to Lemon. But eventually, she retired to Jan’s room for the night, figuring she wouldn’t mind, given the circumstances, and slept through the night. She woke up the next morning to a knock on the door and pushed herself out of bed. “Oh, hey Pri, how was your dinner?”

Priyanka furrowed her brows. “Why are you in Lemon’s apartment?” she asked, her stomach tightening in a knot as she followed up with, “did you guys hook up?”

“Nah, she was too wasted to even try,” she shook her head as she ushered her inside, the two of them sitting down on the couch. “What’s going on? You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

Priyanka exhaled deeply. “No, um… actually, I’m kinda glad I can practice on someone else, because I’m terrified of telling Lemon,” she looked down, fumbling with the hem of her shirt, shifting uncomfortably, unable to find a satisfactory way to sit and instead just slumped forward and sighed. “Mark proposed. And I panicked and said yes.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring, morosely sliding it onto her finger.

“Oh shit,” Jaida blinked in surprise, her eyes widening when she saw the ring. She pressed her lips into a fine line. “Listen, this might not be the ‘right’ advice, but I don’t think you should tell Lemon yet. You can say whatever you want about whatever your relationship is, but it don’t take a rocket scientist to know it’s more than just sex. She’s not gonna take it well, you need to really think this out.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded, taking the ring off and putting it back in her pocket, then scratched at her hands as if she were fighting the urge to wash them. “You’re right,” she nodded, eyes focused squarely on the floor. “I can’t tell her yet.”

But she didn’t need to, as Lemon had been silently listening from her room, peering through the cracked open door. She shut it quickly but quietly, deciding to go right back to bed. It was too early for her heart to break.

[reachexceedinggrasp]

So the majority of the shows I’ve seen lately can be charitably described as ‘light entertainment’, including the ones with dark elements or more weighty, ponderous plots. They might be entertaining or interesting, they just... don’t stand up to scrutiny. Turn your brain off because this isn’t that carefully or skilfully made and you’ll only be annoyed if you start thinking about it as a whole. Including the last couple 'tragic’ historical dramas I’ve watched, which were not effective tragedy for that very reason. If you’re going to kill off the main cast, you have to earn it, and overwhelmingly writers don’t. Anyway, I’ve been getting despondent about whether stories which actually hang together and form a coherent narrative unit with consistent themes are the exception rather than the rule.

(And I feel like that should be a pretty low standard to meet, it’s sort of Step 1 of ‘being a story’: be about something! Communicate something, no matter how basic it is. Dead simple stories with rock basic messages can be revelatory! Just do it well!)

I’ve seen very little genuinely focussed or meaningful storytelling in my ventures for what feels like a long time. Basically, I can kind of count on one hand the number of films or dramas or whathaveyou I’ve seen from the last few years where it felt like the filmmakers were in complete control of their story and everything in it was purposeful and intentional. Most things have felt slapdash or shallow or fleeting. Story elements and character choices come out of nowhere just to derail already concluded arcs and fill screen time with empty repetitious drama, not to serve a meaningful narrative purpose. I would be watching with zero confidence anything in particular was going anywhere or that the writers knew where that should be. It’s just throwing shit at the wall, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type writing all the time and it fucking shows.

But then I watched Money Flower.

Money Flower is different. Money Flower is towering head and shoulders above every modern drama I’ve ever seen. Titanically good writing which rises above its genre and makes conventions seem radically new and fresh not by reinventing them or deconstructing them, but by playing them straight, taking them seriously, and committing 1000%. This is all your familiar rich family tropes but with masterpiece execution, infused with consequence and meaning because they’re all driven by the psychology of complex three-dimensional characters. So many moving pieces and none of them are random or unmotivated. Just... GOOD WRITING. And I want to make the point that it is this wherein art lives. The difference between a rank Lifetime movie and Romeo and Juliet is not novelty or tropes or plot twists- it’s execution.

This show is such a perfect example that it is not ‘mere events’ (aka plot) or novelty or shock value or cool ideas which separates something brilliant and timeless from forgettable schlock; it is solely and entirely execution. It’s writing itself, if you know what I mean. You can describe many of Shakespeare’s tragedies and history plays as soap opera plots. What makes Macbeth a deathless masterwork and Death Wish Hollywood wank isn’t a fundamental difference in subject or genre. It’s Shakespeare’s characterisation and purposeful storytelling. It’s the poetry of the dialogue. It’s the craft of writing. Most of Shakespeare’s plots are based on existing stories or on historical events and that has never mattered because novelty is not an inherent good or of any inherent artistic value.

Like, this is the problem with storytelling right now blah blah GOT, shitty endings everywhere etc. because power over the audience (can’t let anyone guess the plot, looking ‘clever’ with meaningless callbacks) and novelty are valued over narrative structure or things making sense or emotional verisimilitude. We have so many writers thinking being ‘shocking’ is all it takes to be a genius. It’s easy to be shocking if your story makes no goddamn sense because things that don’t make sense are literally unpredictable. Not in a good way, though. A great twist or sudden swerve needs to be unexpected but inevitable in hindsight or it does not work. I should be able to rewatch your thing and think ‘oh, of course! you can see it was [x] all along!’

We have so many popular writers now who are so shallow they don’t think anything needs to make sense on a character or emotional level. They don’t think their story has to be about anything. Substance is irrelevant as long as the surface is flashy enough. That has no staying power, you can only watch it once and you will forget about it quickly.

However, if you have ever wanted to experience the constant heightened stakes and High Drama of a soap opera without being annoyed at how ridiculous it all is and while actually giving a shit about the characters because they feel like real human beings, if you’ve wanted to feel repercussions when characters make choices, and get the emotional payoff that is the entire point of drama- now you can. Watch Money Flower. And let me tell you, it is fucking riveting. This show is mostly made up of people sitting in rooms talking and yet it is heart-pounding excitement nearly every episode. It is profoundly traditional and by the book while being totally fresh. It’s the most engrossing and satisfying artistic experience I’ve had in a long time.

Like, THE TENSION, THE DRAMA, THE REVEALS!!! You can, in fact, spend most of 24+ hours on the edge of your seat about family problems and business mergers. It seems unlikely, but that is the power of this series, it creates insanely high stakes and mesmerising suspense out of the most commonplace ingredients. Familiar plot elements become brand new and surprising under the deftness and tightness of this narrative. The plot itself is certainly 100% melodrama but it never feels like a soap opera and is never ever soapy in in a pejorative sense because it handles its classic tropes with such maturity and nuance that it's like you've never seen them before. The writing is incredible.

It is on an entirely different level than the vast majority of dramas, with a total self-assurance that keeps the pacing relentless yet unhurried- taking its time to let the impact of events be felt, the narrative always knowing exactly where it’s going and how to get there. The characters are all multi-faceted and unpredictable without ever being incoherent, their motives and goals always being gradually uncovered in more detail that only makes the storytelling and characterisation even tighter, even richer. The twists and cliffhangers are always mind-blowing but always earned, never cheap or nonsensical, and I can't remember ever thinking that about another show. (There’s literally one exception towards the very end where something a bit random happens for reasons of pure symbolism- it’s a misstep imo but it’s minor in the scheme of things)

Every time I started to doubt the writing, started to think ‘oh no, they’re going off the rails’, they showed me I was wrong and they were in total control. The only 'problem' with the show is that the drama is also profoundly painful to watch unfold, particularly in the beginning, because it's a story where everyone makes terrible life choices and moral corruption is everywhere. It's hypnotic though, like a car crash. If you can handle something dark, insidious, cerebral, and character-driven there is nothing I've seen in the same vein that can approach its brilliance. It’s like The Magnificent Ambersons as a slick modern revenge drama. There is also (PRECIOUSLY!!) a core of stunning romanticism around which all the horrors revolve and that saves it from becoming hideous or cynical. There is a chance for redemption and a new beginning after all, in spite of all appearances.

The ending has apparently been controversial, and it is definitely not quite as climatic as you would have expected given how powerfully climatic almost every regular episode is, but it's a good ending. There isn't full closure, they don't provide final resolution in a bow, but to me it's an ending about hope. It suggests optimism for our characters and I was satisfied with that. It's extremely rare for a 'revenge story’ to allow this kind of room for healing and it can do that because, imo, we discover in the end that it wasn't ultimately vengeance in Pil Joo’s heart. He has not become a tragic hero who will be consumed by the cannibalistic darkness of revenge, his quest was for justice. He teeters on the edge of the abyss but he avoided falling in; he didn't sell his soul, at least not irrevocably.

He is nonetheless a very tragic figure and an anti-hero, but despite having dedicated his life to bringing down the Jang cabal, it’s not that he’ll stop at nothing. He will make any personal sacrifice no matter how desolate, he lives as a mere husk of a man, and he facilitates enormous emotional harm to others in service of his goals, but he has ethical hard lines he never considers crossing. His sense of decency and compassion is never extinguished; he does care about the collateral damage he is causing even when making justifications for it. It’s important to him to give people as much agency as possible in their choices, to mitigate the damage done by his schemes as much as he can. To try to prevent harm coming to undeserving bystanders. Not that this makes it okay that he uses people, which he does, but the point is he never completely surrenders his moral compass to avarice. He’s never okay with burning down the world or ruining innocent lives just to get to his target.

Pil Joo is less a vigilante and more an avenging angel, he wants justice more than retribution. He wants fairness and a better, safer world where what has happened to his family won’t happen again. The reason this story never becomes Sweeney Todd (aka: a full on tragedy where we see the inevitable outcome of lust for revenge) and the reason he can survive twenty years spent pursuing someone’s downfall is exactly that principle. Searching for retribution would have destroyed him, he would have become the very thing he hated, but instead he goes as far as necessary to publicly expose the Jangs for what they are and then willingly submits to penance for his complicity in their crimes and tries to atone with the people he hurt along the way. Purged, he’s symbolically reborn and takes back his real name to maybe finally have a chance at the life he should have had. He moves on, content, a positive force. He’s capable of healing from the ordeal because he realises he doesn’t need retaliation, just seeing them stopped and facing consequences for their actions is enough.

The love story is a superbly poignant part of this. Their love is the ‘victim’ of his revenge and it will forever be impacted by it, but it’s not something that can be killed, so there’s still hope. Mo Hyeon’s bookending rescues of Pil Joo from death mean first that he has a purpose he must fulfil and then the second time that he has freedom to finally live as himself, for himself. There’s a future. And maybe they can be together there. I’m emo about it.

Anyway, if there was the slightest doubt about me becoming a long-term Jang Hyuk fangirl, it’s been put to rest. This performance is easily one of the best I’ve ever seen, period. No contest it’s the best I’ve seen in a tv drama. It’s also the most subtle and masterful turn he's delivered in his whole career. He's so restrained, but he is giving absolutely everything; he has total control over every microexpression, every gesture, every molecule in his body. There is so much simmering under his surface, so much going on in his eyes; the layers and depths are endless. The intensity and sharp intellectual focus he brings to the character is breathtaking. Everyone else is doing amazing work too, but he is almost constantly on screen and has this spectacular command of such a sprawling story, such a complex character, and he makes it look effortless. All artifice has melted away. The fact that being so tightly contained is in stark contrast to the bombastic element in many of his other roles renders its delicate precision even more startlingly impressive. I thought he was a great actor before, but I didn’t fully appreciate what he was capable of until Pil Joo.

[snarkwrites]

03 pt 1 | m i n e | tim speedle, csi miami

Notes:

Okay, so I was stuck and struggling with what I wanted to do with this chapter for a while now, but today I sat down to try making it work again and... Well, this happened. Originally, chapter three was supposed to be one part, over and done.. But given everything at play here, I’ve decided to make it two parts instead.. So you guys don’t have a million different things coming at you all at once. I promise plenty of hot fluff in the next chapter. So.. do what you will with that information.

For now? Suspense. Crime show drama. 

Summary:

They’re thrown together again when Sylvie comes to Miami to escape everything going on in her life. Tim never got over her. She never got over Tim. Will they reconnect? And what’ll happen when Sylvie finds herself in a bit of a situation?

Again.. why do my summaries suck?

Pairing:

Tim Speedle x OFC, Sylvie.

Warnings:

Stalker warning. Huuuge stalker warning. Crime show plot elements not limited to attempted kidnappings, stalking, creepy phone calls and notes, etc. I warn you all here that I am not affiliated with law enforcement, nor have I ever lived through any of this. So.. do with that what you will.

Eventual smut, lots of angst, slow burn sexual tension and fluff.

Other Parts:

[ one - two pt 1 - two pt 2 - soundtrack ] 

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ] 

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave​ 

@twistnet​ 

                                     THREE.

I was nervous.

Probably three times as nervous as I’d been back in high school when Tim picked me up for our first date. I took a few deep breaths and stepped back, giving myself a critical once over in the bathroom mirror before finally shrugging.

True, we were meeting to spend the evening at the beach. Hanging out on some boat his co-worker Eric had recently gotten with Eric and his wife as the sun set. But it wasn’t a date and it didn’t mean that Tim and I were magically going to find our way back together, either.

I had absolutely zero reason to be nervous and yet, here I was.

My cell phone rang.

My hands shook slightly upon seeing UNKNOWN CALLER on the call ID. I almost didn’t answer, but before I could stop myself, the annoyance of a ringing phone took over and I answered.

“Hello?”

Nothing but static. Some unintelligible background noises but nothing to really pinpoint who the caller might be. I honestly assumed that it was a wrong number and I was fully prepared to hang up the call, but just as I was about to, the odd voice broke through the static and quiet background noises.

“I’m watching you, sweetheart. I’m closer now than I was in Paris… That red bikini you’re wearing looks really tempting.”

My blood ran cold as I glanced down at the red bikini I’d chosen to wear with my favorite cut offs and a cropped white Levis shirt with bold red lettering. Almost instantly, I was looking everywhere in a panicked frenzy. How had the caller seen me? Was there a hidden camera in my hotel room?

Was he in the room in the building across from mine?

I found myself walking out onto the balcony that overlooked the pool cabanas and poolside below. Scanning the midday crowd. Nobody stood out to me. The room across from mine was either not in use or the person occupying it was out of the room because when I gazed across, I saw no sign of movement inside.

That left the hidden camera theory. I rushed back inside, locking the door to my balcony behind me as I went. I searched every single inch of that hotel room until I was absolutely sure that there were no hidden cameras or mics and that my mirror was a normal one and not a two way mirror.

My search turned up empty and I kicked at the bedframe, hopping around and swearing when it hurt my foot to do so. I flopped across my bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to pull myself together.

Trying to keep a calm and clear head so that I didn’t leave anything out when I made my call to the front desk and then Miami Dade PD.

As soon as I’d spoken to front desk and arranged to check out of my room, I gathered my things. After calling my realtor, I arranged to rush the final paperwork on the furnished beach house and she told me to come by and pick up my keys this afternoon around 5. I told her I’d be there and then I paced my hotel room.

I needed to let Rex know what was going on, if for nothing more than to remind him that he’d yet to actually handle anything as far as my stalker was concerned. But something told me to cut Rex out of the whole process and just place my call to Miami Dade PD instead. Like I’d taken to doing more recently. Because this time around, I seemed to be getting somewhere. Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number to the station and settled in, waiting on the call to be answered.

“Yes, I’d like to speak to Lieutenant Caine, please? Sure, I’ll wait.” as I waited on the call to be transferred, I took a few deep breaths and went back over every single detail of the call I’d just gotten from the unknown number.

No matter how small or insignificant it seemed. If anything could help law enforcement finally catch this creep so I could put this all behind me and prepare to start moving onward with a normal life out of the spotlight, I made note of it.

My call was finally transferred and as soon as I finished detailing everything for Lieutenant Caine, he told me that he’d send someone from Forensics over to sweep the room and make sure I hadn’t missed any hidden recording devices.

I agreed to it and given that I still had an entire five hours until Tim was off work and we were meeting up, I turned on the television in my hotel room, settling in with some mindless soap operas until there was a knock at the hotel room door.

I threw it open, blinking in surprise to find not only Tim on the other side, but Natalia Boa Vista and Lieutenant Caine himself.

I took a deep breath and Tim eyed me in concern. The tension between Tim and Lieutenant Caine was definitely palpable, enough so that I could almost reach out and touch it. I got the distinct feeling that he’d pretty much demanded Tim stay at the lab, but Tim being Tim, read stubborn as all hell, he’d come along.

“What’d this guy say?” Tim asked quietly. Calmly. Almost too calm. I could tell that the whole thing had him angry and just like back when we were dating, going into overprotective mode.

“Tim, you need to set up your camera. I think over by the balcony door.” Lieutenant Caine spoke in a calm and crisp tone. Tim  eyed me, waiting on an answer. I muttered softly, “I’ll explain it all tonight, okay?”

“I’m holdin you to that, blondie.” Tim mumbled back, his voice firm and commanding. His eyes full of concern as they locked on mine. After Tim set up his camera, they began doing a full sweep of my hotel room.

I interrupted at one point, asking if they’d like to search my luggage too, because I’d been so upset it honestly never occurred to me to search there in my own earlier search immediately after getting the call I’d gotten.

When Natalia suggested that it wouldn’t be a bad idea, I dragged out my two overstuffed suitcases and sat down on the floor, unzipping them. Dumping the contents of my rolling makeup case on the floor neatly. I even dragged out my toiletry bag and the garment bags with my two favorite designer dresses stored neatly inside.

I think my alternate reasoning behind this was because I realized I was in Miami and essentially, Miami was right up there with California. I had no doubt in my mind that the cops probably had their fill of egotistical celebrity types who were basically pulling the strings behind their own misfortunes just to garner publicity and any personal gain they could from the whole thing and I wanted them to know that Rex was full of shit. I wasn’t one of those types.

Because I had my suspicions that the reason I hadn’t been taken seriously in my previous attempts to report all of this as it was happening when I became aware of it was Rex going over my head and telling them that I was blowing things out of proportion or worse, making it all up for attention and fame.

“Have you spoken to hotel management about changing suites?”

“I told them I wanted to end my stay, yes. I’ve been in the process of buying a beach house here, sir.. I got hold of my realtor and asked if there was any way I could speed the purchase. I’m getting my key this afternoon, actually.” I assured Horatio. He nodded.

“Does your stepfather know about recent developments?” was his next question. Again, I assured him that my stepfather had been the first call. And that my stepfather mentioned calling him later in the afternoon to touch base.

The search of my hotel room turned up nothing, but I could feel my entire body heat up when Natalia pulled out the framed photos of Tim and I but said nothing. I knew Tim had seen it. I tensed a little, letting out a quiet and ragged breath when the rest of the search went by without Tim saying anything about the pictures. I think I was grateful for that. I know I was praying to hell he’d been busy and hadn’t seen them. Because if he had… That opened an entirely new can of worms.

And possibly, it added a layer of awkwardness to our plans for later that evening. And the absolute last thing I wanted was to make anything awkward.

XXX

It stuck with him for the rest of his shift… The fact that she still had photos of them together and carried them with her had to mean something, right? Currently, Tim Speedle found himself pacing his lab back at the station, waiting on the last of the photos he’d taken of her hotel room to finish developing in the next room as he tried to puzzle it out.

Natalia stepped into the lab.

“So you weren’t going to mention at any point you dated one of my favorite minor characters in a soap opera?” she teased him gently.

From across the room, Alexx’s mouth turned upward in a smile as she sat nearby, eating a late lunch. Listening as Tim vented about the whole thing and blew off steam from an earlier head butting session with Lieutenant Caine over him going or not going with Natalia and the others to search Sylvie’s hotel room.

Of everyone he worked with, Alexx probably knew the most about the situation. And through the years, she’d tried more than a few times to get Tim to reach out and reconnect, pointing out that they never got closure. And that the feelings he had weren’t going away. That living life with a what if hanging over him wasn’t really living life at all.

Tim chuckled, shrugging. “ It’s just weird. To me she’s just Sylvie.”

“Or Blondie. That’s what you called her earlier.” Natalia was teasing again, flashing him a smile.

Alexx spoke up as she rose from her chair to go and throw away the remnants of her lunch in the waste bin. “I’m still saying that if she’s here… Now is the time, Tim. Don’t let it pass by, honey.”

“He’d better say something. Or I’m shoving them into a room together. She still had pictures of them together, Alexx. We both know what that means.” Natalia remarked as the two women shared a knowing look.

The revelation had Alexx turning slowly, gazing up at Tim. Placing a hand gently on his upper arm. “ It needs to happen. From everything you’ve just spent the past twenty five minutes venting about… To the way you’re getting so worked up about everything that’s happening to that poor girl right now… If there was ever a sign from the universe, Speed, this is it, sweetie. Wake up.”

Tim nodded. “Noted. Trust me, it’s not something I haven’t been thinking of myself lately.” he reassured Alexx, thanking her for listening as she made her way out of the lab. As soon as she was out of the room, Natalia spoke up.

“I can’t believe we didn’t find anything.”

“I can. I have the feeling that her manager’s in on this. Somewhere. Something about the guy just doesn’t feel right, ya know?” Tim mused as he paced in front of the photos he’d already developed, studying them all critically.

“ Yeah, I kind of think so myself, because her manager just came down here because apparently, he found out via paparazzi camped out at the hotel lobby that we were there and on her floor earlier. He was in full damage control mode.”

“That fuckin sleaze.” Tim muttered as he shook his head.

XXX

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? I tell you to keep a low profile that means you keep a low profile until I specifically tell you otherwise. Are we clear?” Rex fumed in anger, glaring at the phone in his hand.

Silence on the other end of the line. Rex swore and repeated in an angrier tone, “I asked you a question..Do you know how much damage control I’m having to do now?”

He slammed his phone down on his desktop when he heard the dial tone on the other end of the line. He stood and began to pace, taking a swing at one of the walls in his office.

The fact that she’d gone over his head and called in local law enforcement. Involved her stepfather after he’d specifically told her not to. He was losing control of the entire situation and losing control of a situation was not something Rex enjoyed or took kindly too.

Sitting down in his desk chair, he grabbed for his cell phone, calling Sylvie.

The call went to voicemail for a third time that day. Blue eyes settled on the notice some lawyer she’d hired sent over earlier in the morning and he chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.

“Ungrateful little bitch. Really wants to leave all this behind and live a normal life. We’ll just see about that...”

[justthehiddleswrites]

Should… | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Emma Masters) | Chapter 1| ... We Go To My Room?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Emma Masters

Summary: Five years ago, Emma Masters just landed her first big acting gig on a soap opera. While it is not much, it is an opportunity to grow. While out celebrating, she meets up with a fellow actor, Tom Hiddleston. While she doesn’t recognize any of his work, the two hit it off. Before they know, they are getting hot and heavy in the elevator up to Tom’s room. Like ships passing in the night, the two never manage to meet again.Now five years later, Emma is a heavy hitter in the prime time drama world and Tom is a Golden Globe winning movie star. Their paths cross again but things have changed. Will they do what they should or fall to their deepest desires?

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, fingering, drunk sex, oral sex, cheating, unhealthly relationships

-

Five Years Earlier

“Yes, I accept!”

Emma hung up the phone and ducked into a nearby hotel where she knew the bar served half-off appetizers and cheap drinks. A packed bar in the early evening did not bode well. Emma waded through the sea of ill-fitting suits and too-tight shift dresses to reach the bar. She motioned to the bartender who came over to take her order.

“Jack and Seven, please.”

The bartender slid the drink over and she searched for a place to sit. She found a small table in the corner with two chairs. She collapsed into the nearest one and took a big swig of her drink. Emma pulled her phone out and started on a text to her mother with the good news.

“Excuse me, but I believe you took my seat.” a smooth voice with a British accent commented.

She turned to see a tall man smiling behind her. His curly blonde hair gelled in place. She stood to move.

“It’s all right. I’ll take the empty one.”

“Sorry...” Emma paused looking at the man.

“…Thomas, Tom. And you are…?”

“Em…Emma.”

“Em…Emma. Nice to meet you. Mind if I share the table with you? There are only limited options around.”

She nodded. Tom sat down, scooting the chair over to give Emma plenty of room.

“You aren’t from around here, are you?” Emma asked, rolling her eyes at the obvious question.

Tom chuckled.

“What gave it away? The accent?”

“The suit.” Emma said, deadpan and Tom broke out into a full laughter.

“So, what brings you to America, Thomas?” Emma asked as she took a long drink of her whiskey, finishing up what was in the glass. It burned down her throat.

Tom sipped his drink while contemplating the question.

“I’m here to do some interviews on a recent project I did.”

“Oh, what line of work are you in?”

“I’m an actor.”

Emma’s ears perked up.

“Would I have seen you in something?”

Tom almost choked on his drink, not used to having to explain his burgeoning celebrity status.

“I played Loki in the Thor movies and The Avengers.”

Emma stared back, unmoved.

“I don’t watch superhero movies.” Emma’s nose crinkled up at the word “superhero.”

Tom continued, digging into his filmography, stunned that she didn’t know about Loki.

“Only Lovers Left Alive? War Horse? Midnight in Paris?”

“Nope.”

Tom frowned.

“I just finished a run of Coriolanus at the Donmar.”

Emma leaned in.

“Ooh. Shakespeare.”

“You know Coriolanus? I’m impressed.”

“Oh, the Bard and I are on intimate terms. He was the subject of my senior thesis.”

Tom’s eyebrows drew up, and he pulled back.

“Oh! I studied Classics at Cambridge.”

Emma sipped the rest of her drink, already getting tipsy on her empty stomach.

“So Cambridge, can you say something in Latin?”

Tom gulped down the rest of his whiskey for some liquid courage. He unbuttoned his jacket and swooped it back with dramatic flair before leaning close to Emma. Heat radiated off of him like a furnace. She fought the urge to just melt against his broad shoulders. Tom cleared his throat before continuing.

“Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori.”

Emma raised her glass.

“May we all yield to love.”

Tom raised his now empty glass.

“To love,” they clinked their glasses together. Tom went to drink and realized he finished his drink.

“I think we need more drinks. What was yours?”

“Jack and Seven .”

Tom’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“Whiskey. My kind of girl.”

Emma blushed as Tom headed off to the bar. Emma’s stomach flipped. God, he was handsome. After several minutes, he returned two glasses in hand.

“So, are we celebrating or drowning our sorrows?” Tom asked as he handed over the drink.

“Celebrating. I just booked my first big job.”

Tom beamed and brought the glass to his lips.

“Congratulations! What kind of job?”

“Acting.”

Tom spit his drink back into this glass.

“You could have led with that.”

“And miss that spit take? Not a chance.” Emma quipped, openly flirting now.

“What kind of acting job?”

“A minor part on a soap, but there is an opportunity to grow.”

“I wish you well.”

They clinked glasses once again. Two drinks turned to three, which turned to four. Emma and Tom talked about everything from horror stories from the acting trenches to family to hopes and dreams for the future. After the fourth drink, the bartender started giving them the eye.

“I think he wants us to leave.” Emma giggled from both alcohol and giddiness running through her veins. Her smile faded and she let out a breathy sigh as she had to leave.

“We should take this upstairs.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, take the conversation some place private. Like my hotel room.”

She gulped. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe her good mood, but going up to Tom’s room sounded enticing.

“You know what?” Emma slammed her hands on the table, rattling the glasses, “That is a brilliant idea.”

Tom laughed and the two of them rose to leave the hotel bar. They giggled the entire way through the lobby. Tom rocked back and forth on his feet, waiting for the elevator. Emma sidled up to Tom, fingers brushing up against his. The skin on skin contact sent electricity through Emma’s body. There was more than just alcohol coursing through her veins as she drank in the sight of Tom.

He glanced over and smiled at Emma. Tom marveled at the sight of this woman next to him. Her dark brown hair pulled into a simple ponytail and her casual clothes failed to convey the complex personality underneath. He was drunk and not on whiskey. He wanted to know everything about Emma.

The elevator dinged. Emma stepped in first, pressing herself against the back wall. Tom followed suit, leaning on the wall next to her. The tension in the air was palpable and Tom noticed his collar getting tighter and his palms sweating. As the doors slid closed, Tom leaned in towards Emma.

“Hold the door!” a small voice called out. Startled and flustered, Tom reached out to hit the button and straighten himself up. Emma smiled as she turned her head away. An elderly woman entered the elevator, ladened with shopping bags.

“Hit floor 6 for me, please?” she asked Tom, smiling up at him.

“Certainly, my dear.”

“Are you from England?”

Emma hid her face as she worked to contain her laughter. Tom responded with a smile.

“I am. Wimbledon, in fact.”

“Isn’t that where they play tennis?”

“It is.”

The ding of the elevator interrupted the exchange, and the lady stepped out.

“You two youngsters have a nice evening.”

“Thank you,” Emma added, giving her a little wave.

Once the doors shut door, the two of them burst into laughter. Tom swung around, leaning over Emma’s small frame. He rubbed Emma’s arm, again sending electricity straight to her core. She swallowed hard before gazing up at Tom’s blue eyes.

“Now, where were we?” Tom asked as he pushed even closer.

“You were flirting with that old lady there?” Emma cracked a joke to distract from the butterflies in her stomach.

“Oh, that was not flirting,” Tom smirked, moving his face within inches of Emma’s.

Tom swore he heard her heart beating faster with each passing second.

“It wasn’t?” she squeaked, becoming more anxious.

Emma looked to see there was a way to escape but Tom’s arm caged her against the elevator wall.

“No, flirting requires the interplay of two peoples wants and desires…”

“Desires...” Emma repeated after Tom becoming lost in his words.

“Yes. As they say, it takes two to tango.”

Emma blushed at the thought and Tom took this opportunity to close any remaining distance between them. His lips crashed against hers with a sense of want and lust. Emma’s body softened against him and reciprocated the affection.

Tom sighed against Emma’s lips and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deeper. Tom, overcome with lust, pushed his hips into Emma. She moaned as his hardness brushed against her. Tom lost control as he slid his hand down Emma’s side, grazing over her waist, hips, and thighs before hooking his hand behind her knee and lifting it up.

The elevator interrupted their interlude by reaching Tom’s floor. Tom released Emma, and they were both flushed and panting. Emma attempted to straighten herself as the doors opened. Tom grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down the corridor. Once they reached Tom’s room, he fumbled in his pockets for the key card. After what seemed like an eternity but was mere moments, Tom got the door opened and ushered Emma into the room. The door slammed behind them and Tom wasted no time.

“At last, you are mine,” Tom growled as he attacked Emma’s lips again.

His tongue was insistent and Emma moaned, granting it access. Their tongues explored each other’s mouths. With each passing moment, Emma’s arousal grew more and more. She threw her arms around Tom’s neck, holding on for dear life. Tom placed his hands on both of Emma’s thighs. He lifted her and shoved Emma’s back into the wall.

“Ahh!” she yelped.

“You are intoxicating, love,” Tom growled into Emma’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

His words spurred Emma on and she pulled on his jacket, ripping it off his shoulders. Her hands then turned to unbuttoning his shirt. Tom pulled her top off in one motion, exposing her skin to the cold air of the hotel room. Tom moaned in appreciation at Emma’s curves before devouring that sweet spot in the crook of her neck. It was as though that spot connected to her core.

“Tom?” she breathed.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me.”

Tom’s lips curved into a devious smile.

“With pleasure.”

Tom pulled Emma across the room until her back landed onto the soft sheets of the bed. She propped herself on her elbows to watch Tom undress at the end of the bed. He undid the buttons of his shirt and peeled the shirt off, dropping it on the floor. He undid his belt and fly next. Emma licked her lips in anticipation.

“Is someone enjoying the show?” Tom asked as he pulled the belt from the loops at a painstakingly slow pace.

Emma could only nod, not trusting her voice to cooperate. Tom took this as an opportunity to torture her. He lowered his pants, kicking them off behind him. Emma could see the sizable bulge in his boxer briefs. Emma gulped at the thought of him filling her to the hilt. She was gushing. Tom moved to hover over her on the bed. He moved like a jungle cat stalking his prey. He started kissing Emma on her collarbone. She arched her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the side. Tom turned his attention to Emma’s now heaving chest.

He took one of her nipples and sucked with fervor.

“Oh, God!” Emma groaned, and she tangled her hands in his blond curls. This only spurred on Tom as he drew his attention to the other breast, giving it the same treatment, eliciting the same reaction from Emma. She struggled to undo her jeans, when Tom grabbed her hands.

“Allow me.”

With deft hands, Tom made short work on the button and fly of Emma’s jeans. She bucked her hips up to allow Tom to pull them down, taking her underwear with him. She laid there naked as Tom drank in the sight. His eyes hooded with lust, he pressed his chest into hers as he crushed against her lips.

“Perfection,” Tom muttered as his hands raked across her body. As his hands grazed her pubic bone, Emma shifted her legs apart, granting him access to her glistening sex. Tom’s fingers slid up and down her slit, collecting juices along the way.

“So wet for me. So ready,” Tom moaned into Emma’s ear.

With no warning, Tom pushed one long digit into Emma’s pussy and she gasped, digging her nails into his shoulders. Tom chuckled as her walls gripped onto his finger.

“You are so eager to please.”

He pumped his finger in and out at a languid pace, drawing out Emma’s pleasure. Soon, he added a second finger and quickened his pace. His other hand found her clit, drawing tight circles. There was a tightening in her core.

“Oh, yes!” She gasped as Tom curled his fingers inside.

“Come on darling, cum for me,” Tom urged on as he continued to fuck Emma with his fingers.

“Don’t stop!”

Tom continued to finger Emma, curling his fingers while stimulating her clit. Before long, the coil snapped and Emma orgasmed.

“Fuck. Me!” Emma screamed as waves of pleasure washed over her. Tom pulled off his underwear and lined up with her entrance, pushing in to the hilt.

Emma never felt so full in her life. Tom filled every inch of her.

“Oh God, you feel amazing,” Tom exclaimed, and he began to thrust, pushing in balls deep each time.

A second orgasm fast approached and Tom’s hip thrusts grew more and more erratic. Tom cried out as he spilled into her and moments later, she came. The two of them collapsed onto the bed and drifted off to sleep.

-

The next morning, Emma woke to find the bed empty. She rolled over and found the spot still warm. As she still detected him on the pillow, spices and woods. Emma heard the bathroom door open and Tom stepped out, wearing only a towel around his waist.

“Morning.” he said with a smile.

“Morning.” she responded, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Um… I guess we should talk.”

Emma blushed.

“Might be a good idea after last night.”

“Yeah, I don’t do that sort of thing. You know… last night… with girls… I mean ladies… I’m a nice guy, I swear.” Tom blabbered about, the last few words squeaking out.

Emma couldn’t help but giggle.

“Nervous much?” It’s fine. I never sleep with someone the first time I meet them either.”

Tom smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I would like to see you again.” Tom ran his hand up and down Emma’s arm.

There are those shivers again.

“Me too.”

“But I am leaving New York today for London.”

Emma noticed the packed bag by the door. In the heat of passion last night, she had missed it. Emma’s face dropped.

“Oh.”

“But I should be back in three weeks’ time. Can I take you out on a proper date?”

Emma nodded.

“Until then, how about some room service breakfast?” Tom stood to head over to the phone.

Emma’s stomach growled in response.

“I will take that as a yes.” Tom smiled.

He ordered breakfast for two and got dressed while Emma took a shower. She washed her hair before slipping back into the clothes from last night.

“Here.” Tom shoved a shirt in Emma’s face. “In case you don’t want to wear the same shirt again.”

Emma took the shirt and switched out. The shirt smelled of Tom.

“Thanks.”

By this time the food arrived. The two of them ate in a hurry, chatting and exchanging numbers, Tom’s car set to arrive soon. As Emma shoved the last piece into her mouth, Tom’s phone rang.

“I’ll be right down.”

Emma walked out with him. Tom leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

“Three weeks. It’s a date.”

“It’s a date.”

It wasn’t a date. Emma got busy with her new role, and then sick and they canceled plans. Tom and she her exchanged phone calls, emails, even a few video chats. But never met in person again.

As the weeks turned to months, the texts became more scarce. Both their careers continued to prosper, Tom with a Golden Globe performance as Jonathan Pine and Emma translated a few Daytime Emmy wins into starring in a prime time drama. After 18 months, the texts stopped altogether. Emma forgot about the one-night stand.

Present Day

“Em?” a familiar voice rang out across the L.A. restaurant.

Emma looked around for the source. It couldn’t be a fan, no one called her “Em” anymore. She saw a man with unruly ginger curls wearing a tailored suit, making a beeline towards her. Her eyes widened and her heart jumped into her throat. All the memories of that night rushed back to her like a tidal wave.

“Is that who I think it is?” Corrine, Emma’s friend asked, tugging on her arm.

The man reached her table and Emma rose to her feet, gripping the table for support.

“I can’t believe it is you, Em!” he pulled her into a big bear hug. He still smelled of spices and woods.

“Tom!” Emma pulled from the embrace, looking him over. “Nice beard.”

Tom chuckled as he rubbed his hand through the whiskers. The two of them stared at one another for what seemed an eternity. Corrine cleared her throat and Emma jumped at the sound.

“So sorry! Corrine, Tom Hiddleston. Tom, Corrine Saunders, my friend and former publicist.”

“Charmed.“ Corrine cooed as she extended her hand palm down.

Tom gave a nervous chuckle before giving it an anemic shake.

“So Tom,” Corrine started in. “How in the hell do you know our little Emma over here? She’s never mentioned you before.”

Emma’s face flushed as the color drained from Tom’s. They exchanged knowing looks before Tom cleared his throat.

“Well, it is a funny story.” Tom started as he pulled on his collar.

Emma wasn’t laughing.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

It’s 2020 and my anxiety level is so high, I grind my teeth while I’m asleep and awake!  But let’s ignore all that and instead focus on critically analyzing America’s premiere soap opera for monster hunting! It’s Supernatural! 

As you may have already guessed, I watch a lot of TV. And in the Year of Our Troubles, 2020, when I’m encouraged to stay home and indulge in my favorite pastime for the health of the nation, I watch a hell of a lot of TV. When you watch that much TV, you start to notice the rhythm and the flow of how seasons of television progress. You probably notice it too, even if you don’t think about it as much as I do. 

Like, you know that episode that happens right near the end of the season where all the characters are happy? They’ve overcome a whole bunch of obstacles and they’re finally winning and they can see that light at the end of the long tunnel? You know the one I’m talking about. That’s the moment that you, as an audience member, know things are about to go downhill very quickly

Like when Poldark smiles over something and you’re just like, ah yes, I’ll prepare for the funeral. 

Season 1 of Supernatural is like a case study of the rhythm that makes a network show work. There’s this wave effect throughout the season, building the tension up for a few episodes and then sliding through the next handful. Look at the first five episodes: they’re all about holding our breath, we’re gasping at every new turn - death and ghosts and monsters and Family Drama and Bloody Mary and PREMONITIONS AND THEN we let it out over the next three. 

Aaaaaaand exhale!

This first season especially, but I’d argue the first three definitely, you can see this pattern repeated over and over again - building the tension, ramping the horror, bringing it to a major Mythos or Series Arc Moment and then releasing all that tension with a cool-down filler/self-contained episode. 

And that’s where I am in the show now. We just had a major series arc episode with “Shadow” - John finally reunites with his sons, the villain is revealed (Meg and also the demon that killed their mom), and the endgame (for this season at least) is in sight. BUT! We’re a network show with 22 episodes to fill, and we can’t just head straight into the Finale Fight now, we’re only on episode 17! I mentioned in my last post that getting the team together again for all of 6 minutes and 44 seconds (yes, I did go back and count) felt like a slap in the face. I assumed it would have something to do with Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s shooting schedule, but looking at it again, it probably had more to do with the fact that it was too soon to bring John Winchester back as a major player.

So our next episode, our breather episode after all this High Drama, should feel a little disappointing to anyone caught up in the arc of the season. But. BUT. But. The next episode is “Hell House."

Yes, this is a filler, but this is filler done RIGHT. I mean maybe it’s just cuz it’s 2020 and I’m very tired and sad and scared all the time, but I was SO HAPPY to see Ed and Harry again, guys you don’t even know. Guys, the GHOSTFACERS ARE HERE!

And man, I am SO glad that this is a recurring side team that shows up throughout the series. Pease no one tell me that they die in a later season, I’ll find out eventually, I just can’t handle it now. 

They are the anti-Sam and Dean. They have no idea what they’re getting into, they have no idea how to hunt anything, but they’re here to get famous and that’s just...it’s beautiful guys. Just beautiful. 

Plus, you have this soft b-story line where Sam and Dean get to be Real Brothers for a hot second and prank the shit out of each other the whole episode. It’s like even Sam and Dean are saying, yeah, we need a break from all the feelings, let’s put itching powder in each other’s boxer briefs. I want to say that I was really annoyed the first time I watched this and did not care for these shenanigans, but this time around, it was a REAL JOY. 

I’m also not mad about this.

And this breather feeling sort of carries over into the next few episodes. Sort of.  

“Something Wicked” is another feelings-heavy episode. Backstory! Child-eating Monster! Tiny!Dean! I think Dean maybe cries again? Or just does that thing where he stares into the middle distance, all pain and torment and chiseled jaw line and I’m doing it again, I’msorrynotsorry. 

You know. THIS face.

All of these things lead to an episode that has a lot of character development and strengthens the bond between Sam and Dean. Sam literally validates Dean’s whole existence by apologizing for fighting him on this job and then saying “I know I’ve given you a lotta crap for following Dad’s orders, but I know why you do it.” It’s a lot. It’s a big moment from Sam, who hasn’t really reconciled with John yet and who’s still hoping for a future that isn’t all about killing every evil sonuvabitch they can find. It’s a big moment for Dean, too, since his main motivation is protecting his family and (from his limited point of view) that family keeps trying to leave him. And while we do get some insight into the f-ed up childhood that was forced upon our eponymous heroes, there’s nothing really driving the season’s plot forward in this episode. 

Same goes for “Provenance”. This episode is another good horror episode. I mean, even if that painting wasn’t possessed by a murder orphan, it is deeply haunted and I hope props burned it when the production wrapped. And what is it about ghost children particularly that’s upsetting? Is it the size? Is it the fact that their eyes are too big for their heads at that age? I mean, it probably has something to do with perverted innocence and goodness blah blah blah, but also their hands are tiny and so all the knives look bigger.

Same, Sam.

Aside from that, Sam gets another nice growth moment where he gets to imagine a world after Jessica. He’s been so fixated on finding Jessica’s killer - I’d argue more so than his mother’s killer albeit they are the same entity. That’s not a judgement against him, mind. He knew and loved Jessica, he did not know his mother, so I’m not mad about that character decision. But the show is really wrapping up the Jessica plot line because that won’t have legs in a season 2. And that’s harsh, so I’ll temper it with the fact that Sam, as a human being, is getting to the final stages of processing his grief and starting to move on with his life. Plus, I think that Dean wingmanning his brother is adorable and I love it. Good Brothering, Show! 

But nothing in this episode has anything to do with the killer Sam’s been fixating on, so there’s no progression for the season’s main arc. 

Last but certainly not least on this disc of my season 1 box set is “Dead Man’s Blood.” My notes on this episode include the key phrases “I’m pretty sure this episode is...dumb?”, “ I...do not care for vampires,” and then like, two lines later, “Nope. Still don’t care for these vampires.” They’re just making up some random-ass lore and their fashion sense is SO 2006 and I just...I just hate them. 

I hate them SO MUCH.

BUT! That’s not the point of this episode. The point of this episode is to point us towards the season finale. FIRST, we start to see a little bit more of the world that the Winchesters inhabit. We actually meet another hunter, Daniel Elkins. He dies immediately, but that’s a cold open for ya. And when Sam and Dean go to investigate Elkin’s death, John comes back, this time for good (haha, lol). We get a real taste of the family dynamics in this episode - John and Sam fight and come together and fight and come together and Dean’s standing there kinda like, SPONGEBOB! 

You know, Plankton! Krabs! Dean Winchester! Right? Anybody?

All sides have good arguments, and I appreciate that none of the conflict between the the three of them feels forced, or at least, it doesn’t feel forced this watch. The fights all come from deep character places that have been established through the whole season. They’re natural progressions of what we’ve come to expect of these characters. 

And finally, most importantly, John knows how to defeat the demon that killed their mother. Enter Deus Ex Colt Revolver. 

Colt Revolver Ex Machina?

CAN I just take a break for a second to say that BOTH Elkin AND John were ready to WASTE PRECIOUS COLT BULLETS on VAMPIRES, who can be killed IN OTHER WAYS?? Listen, you make a magic gun that only works with these  like, 5 BULLETS, and then you just THROW AWAY A BUNCH OF SHOTS, GUYS??? ALSO, what the HELL does Haley’s Comet and The Alamo have to do with this STUPID GUN??? I JUST- you know what, we don’t have time for all that. 

Attaining the Colt is the brick they drop on the gas pedal to drive us into the season finale of season 1. 

Wasting a some PRECIOUS F*CKIN’ BULLETS, GUYS.

When you look at the season’s pacing at the outset, it seems like it shouldn’t work. I was that person who felt disappointed in each episode where it became clear we were definitely on a side quest, not the main quest.  Watching it now, though, I think that pacing is important. Yeah, the Monster-of-the-Week episodes are a little hit and miss, but sometimes you have to think of a TV season like a marathon and not a sprint. There will be times when you pick up the pace, yes, but it’s a long race and you’re gonna need some periods of recovery if you’re gonna make it to the finish line. And frankly, a lot of those side quest episodes ended up being my favorite episodes of the entire series. 

NOW. I doubt you would see this sort of structuring in a show today, specifically in shows that don’t get a 22 - 24 episode order. You MAY get, MAY, a Ghostfacers-type episode thrown in after a major emotional climax for that breather effect. MAY. But if Supernatural was made today - probably for an online streaming site, probably with only 10 - 13 season order - I don’t think you’d see episodes like “Something Wicked” or “Provenance” or “Faith”. The nice thing about short seasons is that you can keep the storytelling focused and tight, but I also think that can be a weakness as much as it is a strength. What do those three episodes all have in common? They’re strong on character and relationship development. We, the audience, get a deeper understanding and appreciation of the Winchesters and how they work and grow as a unit in these episodes. So if we’ve watched this far, through bugs and ghost trucks, through all their little victories and major setbacks, we’re well and truly invested in how the season is going to end. 

I’m not saying you can’t have big character moments in a shorter season. And I’m not saying that a show more focused on plot, on the What Happens rather than the Who It Happens To, is a bad thing. But watching this season over again in comparison to present day television seasons, it’s highlighted what Supernatural did right. On this side of the series, it’s easy to see why the show went on for another 14 years.

[san-station]

A Quiet Place AU / ATEEZ (Post-apocalyptic)

Chapter 6

↝Word count: 3.6k

Description: In a world full of silence and dangerous creatures seeking for blood, a group of friends have to survive for their own good and find the safe place they've heard about months ago.

Pairing: San x OC

WARNING: mention of death, depression, cursing.

・・・・・・・・

With every storm, there’s a rainbow somewhere.

It’s pretty odd to say that after Misuk’s death, the #439 day began as a peaceful day. That Monday Mingi, Wooyoung and Yeosang walked around the periphery recollecting some vegetables that were on our garden behind the old building, I joined a couple hours later just grabbed some fruits and keep an eye on the boys. We talked about how vegetables tasted better than ever and Mingi tried to figure out if the reason was some kind of radioactive answer. Wooyoung tried to hold his sharp laugh eating tons of strawberries, they tained his teeth red for six hours. We also found two raccoon bodies smashed in the middle of the tomatoes, so we figured we had to be more careful outside the building to prepare the runaway. Meanwhile, Yeosang and I recollected some carrots and oranges, the tension between us was visible, we made eye contact three times and the three times I almost growled at him, still mad about last night. I was trying to distract myself from the events of the day before with them, but the thoughts were only intensify by the animal blood near the garden. 

At night, we had dinner indoors, most of the guys were chatting about the few days we had in there, remaking a new plan for us to start heading to our supposed new home, Wonderland. However, Seonghwa seemed too caught up on his own world that he didn’t even touch his fish or veggies; and if stares could burn you, Seonghwa caught me staring at him. The worrying look on my face made him give me a smile to put an ease to my thoughts, he started to eat after I gulped a glass of water and gesture him swallow everything on his plate. I knew he was as affected as I was, maybe even more. Hongjoong had told us he felt guilty for not being able to protect Misuk when he was the strongest between the three of us, it made no sense if he also would’ve been killed. 

Things turned a little tense when Wooyoung mentioned our discovery on the tomatoes garden. 

"You're not allowed to go outside again this week", Hongjoong had said to me when I washed the dishes. He thought that my scent could have probably attracted the creatures near our house. I agreed bluntly as Mingi hugged my back and reassure that everything would be okay. 

On Tuesday, Yunho, Wooyoung and Jongho prepared an incredible meal with the supplies we brought, the amused moment was when they realized they couldn't cook without Seonghwa, who was out fixing a fissure in the water pipe, it was caused by that time when Wooyoung went to bathroom. Yeah, he was right, that shit was pretty messy. Literally.  I really wanted to go with him but he agreed to go by himself because “he was okay alone”. Saying I was hurt was an understatement… By the end of the day, I took care of gathering some supplies for our road trip, organized our food, water, clothes, pills and guns. We were obligated to dominate the art of shooting and targeting stuffs, luckily, we used them once in the forest yet we didn’t like to use them due to obvious reasons: noise. 

Anyway, as for San and Hongjoong, they never got out of the oldest bedroom till it was night time. San was carrying a notebook and some papers down his armpits while he grabbed a cup of the black coffee I made for Hongjoong and gave me a flash smile. Sometimes, San and I smiled at each other from time to time when our eyes met for too long, but he still was an idiot with big ego trying to make me mad at everything he did. I wasn’t sure of that new attitude of his, but it was better than his stearn and cold eyes.

On Wednesday, we all played Monopoly and remained in the basement for safety, if raccoons died the day before, we had to be aware of anything. So, we ended up hating Hongjoong and his fucking cute laugh as he robbed all of our money when we stepped in all his properties, Mingi kept fake-crying for an entire hour as Hongjoong took his little red houses from the spots he bought and he placed his purple buildings instead. Yeosang, Mr. Corrupt Bank, smiled devilish as he handed Hongjoong the last few dollars of the game. That little bastard knew how to play or he was a mastermind on cheating. San almost punched him and almost threw the game board as he perished in the jail longer than anyone else. We laughed till our bellies hurt, until our eyes cried, until our cheeks felt hot and our backs collided on the basement floor. The tension around us for the last three days faded away in that exact minute, we were just a group of young adults fooling around with our friends and classmates before Kihwang would come from his Art History class and would yell at us to start running over the place. But he never came, and we never ran, and all that we once knew as a normal life became a living hell as we played seek and hide with some freaking aliens. What a plot twist, bro. 

On Thursday, I made a peace alliance with Yeosang, not because either of us wanted to, we had to clean the basement with Seonghwa while the others were risking their lives outside looking for some fishy delight; before they left, Hongjoong made us pretty clear that we had to “put our shit together or else…”, we didn’t want to know the or else..., so we established that we had to figure how to stop looking for each other's throats and befriend one more time. Seonghwa was the mediator, so everything went just fine after some cursing, death wishes, some tears and a hug.

The guys came back three hours later, the river was near the abandoned city so the walk would be tedious. By the time they opened the basement door, Yeosang and Seonghwa were having a big discussion about a puppet show they started to put a smile on our faces.  After cleaning, I was worrying sick about everyone not coming home, so Yeosang thought it might be a good distraction. The show included my fluffy cat, Yeosang’s stuffed turtle, Seonghwa's big red Angry Bird character and San’s puppy, Shiber. 

“She has to marry Private Ryan”, Seonghwa grabbed his fluffy bird and placed my cat next to it. Yeosang frowned, grabbed the cat and placed it next to his turtle.

“Ehm, no, she has to marry Larry”.

“No one wants to marry Larry, Yeosang”, Seonghwa spoke as he, once again, took Manny, the cat, and put it aside the animals. I was staring at them the whole time sipping a glass of water in silence because I've already tried to speak and they almost ate me alive. They decided to have “fun” trying to create some kind of bad soap opera, oblivious that the real drama was getting closer and closer. 

“Fuck you, everyone wants to marry Larry, even Private Ryan”, Yeosang looked offended and hugged his turtle as if it was alive, he was trying to calm Larry down by caressing its shell. 

“How could anyone marry him? He’s too slow for this, the cat needs some real man that can fly her away from monsters”, the black haired man logically explained and grinn when he watched me hiding a smile. It seemed that the main characters didn't realize the boys were there, waiting for some answers about the childish show. San looked exhausted thought. Despites the arguments for my kitten marrying the turtle or the bird, San walked to the couch I was sat on, grabbed Shiber and Manny and sat next to me, interrupting the play. 

 “Let’s finish this”, he started, “Manny and Shiber are engaged, I don’t even know why you guys are fighting for. Besides, Private Ryan is gonna be the best man and Larry will be the flower boy, now shut up and let them be happy forever so we can rest on our beds, we're pretty tired and I need silence", San made the kitten and his little dog kissed for a second while he looked dead serious with his knitted eyebrows. Then, his features relaxed when a giggle escaped my lips and I covered my mouth with the back of my hand. San’s eyes stared at me with the edges of his mouth barely up and handed the plushies to me. I let the glass or water aside and hugged them together. Seonghwa gasped and Yeosang just glared at San’s Shiber. San stood up and left the living room with Wooyoung side by side, he had the biggest Joker smile I’ve ever seen and kind of creeped me out. 

The puppet show was over and we had a great dinner with the fishes they hunted. San let me sleep with Shiber as he now was Manny’s husband. What can I say? It was childish but cute. But suddenly, sleeping between Hongjoong and Seonghwa made me shiver, the warmth of the room disappeared slowly as my body lacked from the human contact. When my eyes opened, I was welcomed with pure loneliness and a cold room, I frowned. It was 2:35 AM according to my wristwatch, yet, I still could hear whispers coming from the living room, they were still taking about the trip. I was exhausted from the cleaning so I didn't think too much and closed my eyes one more time. I snuggled with Shiber between my arms the rest of the night. 

Now it was Friday, I spent the entire day inside my room due to cramps, in the end of the world a woman still has to survive that pain. My head was killing me and I hesitated everytime I wanted to go outside for some air or a glass of water; however, Hongjoong and Seonghwa made sure to warned out the guys to be careful when they came around my room to not cause any problem and disturb my susceptible self. I would eat them alive if they try to argue with me in that state. I could also sense that something was going on, or perhaps I was delusional and craving for some sweet, but they kept they guard on when I started to ask about what they were doing or how was the plan. Hongjoong tensed while he put the cup of tea next to the bed and Seonghwa was the first to approach. 

"Did you not sleep here?", I asked after they avoided the previous question. “I think I had another nightmare, you know, about day 1…” 

"We've been talking with the guys about the next move", the raven boy said and smiled. "Don't worry about us, take the rest of the day." 

"Yeosang sends his iPod", Hongjoong handed it with the headphones and kissed my head. "We'll talk later, Ji. You stay here and rest", then, they were gone, leaving me with Yeosang’s shuffle playlist. I didn’t ask anything else, however, a strange feeling inside my chest kept me uneased all day.

On Saturday I was ready to left the room, I was feeling a little bit better than the day before, moreover, the boys were cautious about my movements and talking.   

“Do you need anything, Ji?”, Mingi asked patting my hair with a soft smile on his face. I returned the gesture touching his well-fitted chest and crunch my nose.

“I’m okay, Mingi, it’ll be over soon”, I assured him as he engulfed me in his strong and long arms. 

“I’m happy I didn’t born as a woman.” 

That was all he said before I killed him with my own hands. Well, actually I punched him a little and made him my slave for all day long. Another odd thing was that Jongho finally talked to me, he looked very sad, thought, but it was an improvement. 

“Here are some pills Misuk always asked when she felt bad”, he handed me a little ziploc with five white pills.

“Oh… thank you, Jongho”, I gave him a quick smile and went to the kitchen.

 I stuck to Hongjoong’s side all day since I wanted to be aware of the expedition. Unexpectedly, he was acting weird, he had a certain manner to handle things sometimes and now he was avoiding my gaze, he rather talk about everything but the trip road, he even ordered me to go and paint some animals on the fourth floor after lunch when Yeosang called him to set up some kind of loose ends on the plan. He almost yelled at me when I insisted on helping with the route map, that’s what I’m talking about, that mullet boy never acted like that. I knew I fucked up with Misuk’s murder, yet it increased the continuous torment of the voices inside my head blaming me all over again. I wasn’t ready for him to demonstrate such an attitude about my culpability, thus I stopped and went to my painting room as all the eyes in the place watched my walk of shame. 

On Sunday every racional part of me started to fall apart. I woke up earlier than the boys, it was pretty unusual if I said. I made breakfast for all, some dumplings, fruits and a hella great coffee, maybe I thought it could be some payment to them for bearing my behavior; before anyone could see me, I grabbed my backpack, filled it with a bottle of water, a few dumplings and fruits, a blanket, some sunlight, my gun and Jongho’s pills. 

 I left the basement and went up to the fourth floor of the building, the sun started to rise from the window with its orange light and I smiled at it, I welcomed it with the few energy I had. It felt nostalgic, the quiet floor sometimes could be scary as hell, after all, I was alone in a building where no one would hear my screams from down earth. Moreover, while I put more and more space between the boys and myself, it started to feel like I wasn’t entirely alone, a thread connected us as we became a family after everything we’ve been through. Families fight, families made peace, I just needed a few hours away to understand that I was being skeptical over them hiding things, important things. And I knew we were going on the road the next day, but my chest ached with discomfort and concern due to Hongjoong’s distrust in my capacity to separate my feelings from our main mission: Wonderland. The tables had turned, I was so worry about Jongho being the one affected, but at the end it was only me and my persisting mouth. 

My hands weren’t able to draw a thing, they were rigid, inflexible, unable to even paint a curve. So my feet took me to the rooftop when the sun was finally set up in the sky, saluting with warmth and happiness that I couldn’t feel either. I put some sunlight while I rested on the floor and closed my eyes. The bright light kept my dreams from the shadows as my mind traveled to a parallel world where everything around me glowed, where my body felt loose, like floating through the space in the quietness of the periphery. My chest went up and down as I took deep breaths and a minute later I was fully relaxed, no worries on my minds, no negative thoughts about blood, or death, or sorrow, or guilt...  With every storm, there’s a rainbow somewhere, it just wasn’t raining any time soon. After a minute or two, the slumber won the battle between anxiety and disappointment and I submerged in the glowing sea of hope and dreams that onces were reachable in the impossible now. 

A few hours later, a big shadow blinded the bright sun and made me open my eyes a bit faster than usual, the blurry figure was looking at me from above with a tense jaw and fisting hands.

“How long have you been here?”, the man signed abruptly and my eyebrows knitted.

“What do you mean?”, I raised my back up a little and sat slowly, for a few seconds dizziness invaded my sight and I blinked severely as Hongjoong’s face became visible.

“Did you not see the time, Jiyeong?”, then I looked around. The sky was still light up but little shiny stars started to show up as minutes passed by. How long did I sleep? I was sure my nightmares depravated me without a good rest, but I wasn’t aware of how tired I really was. 

“We thought you’ve left a while ago”, again, he moved his hands harshly and it didn’t matter if we were quiet, his face expressed the anger he was holding inside. 

“Couldn’t you look up in here?”, I got up on my two feet and dust off my clothes. “Even so, why would I leave without you? I was waiting till you had your breakfast to go downstairs and finally began the travel”.

“We already had lunch, Jiyeong, it’s been seven hours…”, I was taken by surprise realizing how much I was off, my skin felt warm due the sun but it didn’t hurt too much. “Don’t do that again, okay? We-… I thought...”, Hongjoong sighed and bit his lip.

“What? That I’ll leave you just because you’re being a dick to me? Nah, I’m too rational to know that we need to stick together no matter what.”

He avoided my eyes one more time and I finally snapped. I approached him, grabbed the collar of his jacket harshly, making him stumbled in his own feet. Anger boiled my blood as my body reacted without warning. My knuckles were white as the strength I put on my hold was too much for myself. Hongjoong’s eyes were wide open and his mouth partly opened startled, we never had an encounter like that before and me being aggressive was never on my mind, yet I couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Suddenly, I let Hongjoong’s jacket go and signed with pure wrath.

“I’m tired of your shit, Hongjoong. All I’m trying to do is help you with the trip and here you are, treating me like I was some kind of girl that is too scared to hear men talk. I’m tired of being left alone. You realized I wasn’t in the basement like a minute ago and don’t try to lie to me”, Hongjoong was perplexed trying to catch up with my fast movements. He raised his hands and I shook my head. “You thought I was inside the bedroom after I cooked your breakfast just because you’re so caught up with the fucking plan that you don’t understand how shitty I felt this week. I know you don’t trust me, but don’t hide value information when we are a fucking team, Hongjoong…”

 I was panting, the thumping of my heart almost scared me, was it that loud? Would the creatures listen to it? Hongjoong’s dumbfounded face was a poem, he just stood there looking right through me and I stood there, letting him. Two minutes later, he signed.

“This is the first time you said Hongjoong too many times instead of Joong, so… I assume I really upset you”, he pressed his hands on his temples, passed it through his hair and stepped closer to hug me tighter than ever. I didn’t return the gesture, not even when I really needed to hold him. When he noticed, he sighed one more time and let me go. 

“I’m so sorry… it’s just that San and I’ve been changing some things we already had planned before the incident with Misuk and we had to arrange things by putting you too much pressure, most of us are against the idea of lending you such demands when Seonghwa is as well going through it…”, his sad eyes showed how anxious he was, he cupped my face with his hands and caressed my cheeks. A ghost smile appeared on my face and made him grin in victory. 

“This is not the first time we’ve faced dead friends or family, Joong. I’m stronger than this, it just happened to bring back old bad memories, that’s all”, I signed and shrugged, not wanting to think about them after my seven hours sleep.

“That’s all…”, he signed in response. He pressed his lips together as he squeezed my shoulders and stepped back. His eyes looked around quickly with a bothered gaze. “What if we talked inside? It’s getting darker and I- we need you safe…”, Hongjoong grabbed the bag on the floor,opened the rooftop’s door for me and extended his hand for me to hold it. 

“Only if you agree to make some of that horrible tea for me before we go…”, I crossed my arms over my chest and stopped a meter away from him. The mullet boy’s grin fainted and he swallowed hard, that made me frowned. But before I could ask, he nodded with a smile, hold my hand and made me follow him to the basement. A cup of tea wasn’t going to stop me from demanding answers, not when I could tell that something was disturbing him; after all, we were ready to leave the place that day and nothing could stop us, at least nothing that I was aware of.

(...)   

Masterlist

[seraphcelene]

TV: Roswell, New Mexico - 1x04: Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

My thoughts are so random on this episode. There’s alot of threads being tackled and not all of them jive together. In the last two episodes watching Roswell has felt like watching three different shows all at the same time: there's a murder mystery, a family drama, and a YA high school romance in New Adult-ish clothes (omg, the genre collision). Then there are the B-plots: sexual orientation in the military and immigration politics. Trying to pull the narratives together into a cohesive whole makes for a jarring roller-coaster ride.

So, cowboys ...

Immediately, the title of episode four brings to mind stereotypes of the American Cowboy taming the Wild West. He's (always a He) gallant, tall, laconic, capable, stern, tough, emotionally unavailable, and physical.

Our candidates for cowboy hood are as varied as the stereotype is flat: Max, Michael, Kyle, Liz, Maria, Isabel, Master Sargent Manes. The problem of this line-up is the problem that the episode posits: Where Have all the Cowboys Gone? The fact is that they are missing. The stereotype is absent in the selection of characters provided. Looking back over the episode, they're knocked off one by one.

Spoilers!!

"There's a reason God put a cage around your heart."

Michael has none of the rugged, noble qualities associated with the cowboy. If anything he's more of a Drifter or a Desperado. That becomes very obvious in the light his awesome exchange with Maria:

"You drink just enough to burn off that Dramatic Cowboy Angst and then you start a fight before you have to pay."

It's SO Micheal and I am really enjoying the antagonism that exists between Maria ad Michael. The original pair had a similar, but less malicious vibe. The characters were romantically entangled, after all. Michael Vlamis's Michael Guerin is SO much more nuanced and troubled. Heather Hemmen's Maria DeLuca still carries some of Maria's quirk, but she is also very self-possessed and incredibly sharp. I still think the character is woefully under utilized, but we got to see some of her bite tonight and it was awesome!

Maria is pretty obviously our shaman in this storyline, guiding and insightful. Last week, she pointed Liz in the right direction to start her Rosa Treasure Hunt, this week it's all about revelations in the palm of Isobel's palm. Genuinely psychic, which I was so pleased to see, Maria has an odd place in the story. More connected to Rosa than to Liz, layer of remove sets her up as an outlier to all of the central action. She isn't a confidante like Kyle, dragged into the central narrative via his second romantic lead status and Liz's loose lips. In service to tonight's plot, Maria's reason for her beef with Isobel catty and high school as it sounds (I don't like you cause my BFF doesn't like you: the enemies of my friends are also my enemies, yada yada yada) acts as an entry point into a new facet of Isobel's character.

Reflections of Katherine Heigl slowly unfolds over the course of season one from this confident, sophisticated mean girl into this really lonely, needy TEENAGER was a highlight of the original series. She was clearly the best actress on the show, as later evidenced by her work on Grey's Anatomy, and I am still really disappointed that her career hasn't gone further -- you, guys, she has all the talent. Lily Cowles does a great job managing a similar trajectory, but her portrayal still reads a little disingenuous. She's missing the vulnerability that Hiegl exposed in Isabel so very well. Isobel's "carefully curated Pinterest" exterior (so aptly described by Maria) masks a woman desperate for security and stability and acceptance.

Isobel's utter pre-occupation with why Maria doesn't like her takes her down a pretty dark path. That attempted dreamwalk smacked so much of a mental rape attempt that it took me aback. Isobel's gifts make her good at violations. I didn't recognize it in last week's episode because the aggressiveness was missing. Isobel's interaction with Maria was very personal and very intent and intentional. The power dynamic though, interestingly, gets shifted pretty quickly. As Maria's psychic abilities peel back the mask that Isobel wears. It swings back again when Isobel literally shoves her abilities at Maria, demanding that she open her mind.

Isobel is obvs nobody's cowboy. She doesn't reflect the good, kind, true, upstanding hero. Her powers make her good at subterfuge.

Quickly, Kyle is way to urbane to be a cowboy. He's the town doctor: helpful, kind, smart. Master Sargent Manes is the villain. Nuff said.

Despite his very square and manly jaw and how well he fits the physical image, thus creating an expectation for us of how he will be and how we read him as a cowboy (with the hat and the boots and his thumbs in his belt loops), Max is definitely NOT a cowboy. Max is the love interest. Stereotypically, he read's as the girl in the triangle. Max is emotionally available, needy, and pining. He's laid his heart out for Liz only to have it repeatedly crushed. She does it again in this episode, admitting only that she feels something and that alot of that is terror.

In the final scene between Liz and Max, it was almost as if they were having two different conversations across time from the opposite sides of a relationship. Max, at least in his head, has been in this whole relationship with Liz that she never even knew about let alone participated in. His part of the conversation is about investing in and saving a relationship that doesn't, and never has, existed. Once again, Max declares his love for Liz and though she is able to acknowledge the feelings that he has, Liz isn't quite ready to meet him there.

So, who's left? Where HAVE all the Cowboys Gone?

Well, arguably, Liz, as much as she talks, is our laconic, capable, tough cowboy. The plucky go-getter heroine, smart, tough, distant, and capable. The entire opening scene  in which Rosa describes Liz, words Liz echoes to Max, are descriptors that are traditionally coded masculine. Liz wears her distance as a badge, one that she isn't willing to let go of. I love that Liz has such a sense of herself. In that last scene, Liz is looking into the possibility of a future relationship with Max, she's still  in the early exploratory phase of the relationship and is faced with a Max who is demanding more of her than she has to give. This is SO different from the original star-crossed love affair of the original series in which Max and Liz fell hard pretty instantly and equally. The shift in this iteration, the rebalancing of their affections definitely lends itself to a more grown-up narrative. Or at least, let's be honest, in this regard for Liz. While Max may still be hovering on the edges of some school boy crush for a girl he really no longer knows after an absence of ten years, Liz is living in an adult reality where love is never that simple.

Random Thoughts:

a) "People are the worse drug. They all hurt you in the end." The mystery of Rosa continues! Max does some dumb, melodramatic things and makes Jenna suspicious cause he's TIRED of hiding how much of a special snowflake he is! And then Roswell turned into a lifetime after-school special with the big reveal that Sheriff Valenti (the former) was having an affair with Liz's "teenage, drug addict sister"! Cue close-up, melodramatic tunes, and fade to black cause what can you say after that! Of course, all we've really mostly seen is Liz making one wrong left turn after another. She likes to get worked up, ratchet up the tension, make sweeping declarations inditing persons and then figuring out that okay, maybe, she might have been wrong. It's like a total soap opera.

b) What's the likelihood that crazy Alien Conspiracy Guy IS, in reality, an alien? Hiding in plain sight and all.

c) "You have exactly cinco segundos to get out!" Have I ever mentioned how much I love Spanglish? Well, any language mixing with English, really. I totes love it.

d) Master Sargent Manes remain an asshole.

e) Heart attacks out of nowhere, what up, Car Accident Kid and Papi Ortecho?!

f) I love that all of their powers have a physical limit and come at a price. It's not easy and there are repercussions.

g) Consensual, non-shamy, adult sex!! YAY!!!!

h) "I don't want to talk about him with you while I'm not wearing a bra."

i) And the finale reveals!!!! 1 - Michael killed "those girls." Does that include Rosa or just the other two? I get the feeling it was NOT Rosa, but that Michael's guilt is pushing him to become scapegoat for the sake of the family. After-school special Episode 2. No joke, it got really dramatic. 2 - The lights come back up in the city and there was, if my eyes don't deceive me, an imprint of a space ship over the city. What the actual fuck?!

[needsmoresarcasm]

Favorite Books of 2018

I read a lot of books in 2018. Here are my favorites (not counting books I re-read), in basically no order. (But actually kind of an order.)

22. Going Rogue, Drew Hayes

Going Rogue is the third book in Drew Hayes’s Spells, Swords, and Stealth series. The series is told in two parts: it follows a group of people playing a Dungeons & Dragons-style role-playing game and a group of non-playable characters in the world of said game. The thrust of the story is on the group of NPCs, which unfolds as a typical fantasy adventure. It’s got a straightforward quest narrative, an adventuring party (turned found family), and impossible odds. As the stories progress, the players begin to sense that the game has its own agency and the characters begin to sense that there may be someone controlling their world. But mostly it’s a fun, self-aware take on a typical fantasy adventure that toys with fantasy tropes. 

21. Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I steeled myself for dense literary fiction when I cracked open Americanah, the story of Ifemelu, a Nigerian girl who moves to America and wrestles with race and identity. But that was all for naught because Americanah was one of the easiest reads of the year. The writing is breezy, and the story is funny and brisk. It dissects race and culture in America both by showing (Ifemelu’s struggles to define herself in a new country) and telling (Ifemelu’s hilarious blog posts). Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie seems to have perfected the art of delivering dense observations in delightful, consumer-friendly prose. Old white dude authors should probably take note.

20. What If It’s Us, Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera

If I’m going to read a romance, I want it to be light, fluffy, gay, and conflict-free. And that’s exactly what What If It’s Us delivers. The book begins with a meet cute: while mailing a box of his ex-boyfriend’s stuff, Ben bumps into Arthur at the post office. Arthur and Ben are both appropriately awkward and endearing, bumbling and pawing their way through a relationship as only teenagers can. Every character is essentially kind and caring. There are no villains or bullies, no one gets ostracized or beaten, no one dies. The tension mostly stems from the fact that Arthur is only in the city for the summer, which only barely counts as a conflict. And while the universe of the story may be unrealistically polished, their relationship is refreshingly imperfect. Adam Silvera and Becky Albertalli are telling a story of young love, not necessarily true love.

19. The Collapsing Empire / The Consuming Fire, John Scalzi

John Scalzi built an astoundingly engrossing world in The Collapsing Empire. The human race has colonized far flung planets with the help of the Flow system, naturally occurring pathways between various planets across the universe that allows otherwise impossible interstellar travel. The Collapsing Empire follows the sharp, sarcastic Cardenia Wu, the newly crowned empress, and sweet, in-over-his-head Marce Claremont, a Flow physicist in far-flung End who has discovered something off with the Flow. It’s got a roiling pace, packed with space battles, political jockeying, and a whole host of delightful characters. It’s one of those audiobooks (narrated by Wil Wheaton) that was so compulsively listenable that I ended up taking long, meandering walks just to hear what happened next.

18. The Shell Collector, Anthony Doerr

Anthony Doerr’s writing is incredible. His sentences all feel divined from the ether. And the short story is the perfect vehicle for that writing, lasting just long enough to build an atmospheric world. Most of the stories are tinged with a little magical realism, used mostly to underscore the unique, grounded humanity of his characters. The collection dives into the histories of people who are in various degrees removed from society and intertwined with nature. But the ultimate thesis, refreshingly, is not about the corruption of society, but rather the inherent value of people.

17. Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin 

I don’t know that I have anything new or interesting to say about James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room. A story about desire, and maybe love, between David and Giovanni, every word of that book is filled with intense, crushing emotion desperately crashing onto the pages. It’s about love and sexuality, told in an intimate-verging-on-claustrophobic manner. It’s powerful and interminably depressing and beautiful and devastating. But it’s not devastating because it’s gay, it’s just both devastating and gay.

16. Goodbye, Vitamin, Rachel Khong

Goodbye, Vitamin opens with the main character, Ruth, going through a breakup and dealing with early signs of her father’s Alzheimer’s disease. And somehow, Goodbye, Vitamin is also fun, funny, and heart-warming. The book is sunny and endearing, even as Ruth herself struggles with caring for her father and finding her own identity. Most things described as quirky may be better described as annoying, but there truly is no better word for this book’s sensibility than quirky. The specificity of the descriptions and the cleverness of the wordplay make for a delightful, sometimes deeply poignant, read.

15. Less, Andrew Sean Greer

In many ways, Less shares beats with the incredibly overdone, deeply uninteresting novel about a middle-aged white guy who goes through a midlife crisis and suffers the pain of his own brilliance. Indeed, Less follows Arthur Less as he hits fifty, gets invited to his ex’s wedding, and then travels around the world to avoid confronting any of his problems. But Less is decidedly different: it’s gay. Which means it’s funnier, sharper, and drastically more self-aware. Arthur Less - and Andrew Sean Greer - recognizes the absurdity of his disproportionate reaction to relatively minor problems. He has no delusions of grandeur. He’s not on a journey to unlock his inner genius, just a journey to maybe buy a new jacket and have a fling or two. It’s delightful and funny and warm even as it pretends not to be.

14. More Happy Than Not, Adam Silvera

The devastation of More Happy Than Not cuts in sharp pains and deep gashes. The tragic turns - and in a book about a teenage kid who considers a science fiction equivalent of gay conversion therapy there are many - come as punches to the face, not as lingering aches. And yet, the book doesn’t feel punishing to read. Adam Silvera derives no pleasure from Aaron’s, the aforementioned teen, suffering and carefully builds the foundation of Aaron’s character on his triumphs and joys. Aaron’s life is vibrant and bristling with possibility, streaked, but not consumed, by pain. More Happy Than Not is meticulously plotted and paced, with a few moments of genuine surprise. As always, Adam Silvera writes about tragedy in an entirely uncynical way, with a deep well of generosity for his characters.  

13. Witchmark, C.L. Polk

In many ways, Witchmark feels like the book I spent this entire year trying to find. Witchmark takes place in a pseudo-historical early 20th century England-style setting, in the throes of some capital-W War. Most of the book is styled as a mystery: Miles, a former army doctor, and Tristan, a mysterious outsider, track down clues and chase leads to find a murderer. And, of course, maybe they fall in love along the way. And, oh yeah, Miles is a witch. Oh and also, maybe there’s some royal family drama happening as well. And maybe also some government conspiracies. And also maybe a much larger mystery that involves all of the above. There’s magic and romance and mystery and intrigue and action, and every part of it is completely satisfying. Especially if you’re the type of person who would like to read a scene in which said army doctor needs help undressing because he broke his wrist, and luckily there’s (literally magically) handsome mystery man there to help him!!! (Listen, I never said this was particularly profound literature.) But like, five stars.

12. Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore / Sourdough, Robin Sloan

If you want a cozy, feel-good novel that has just the slightest dash of magic, then pick up a Robin Sloan book. Both Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore and Sourdough read as relaxing balms to help soothe aches brought on by the disaster fire of reality. In both books, a young twenty-something attempting to figure out their life discovers a niche world (book collecting and bread baking) and gets swept up in a fantastical mystery. They’re breezy, warm, and brimming with genuine affection and curiosity for the subjects at their centers. Sloan’s writing is incredibly sensory; you can taste the bread and smell the books. They have that Great British Bake Off quality to them: impossibly compelling despite low stakes and uniform pleasantness.

11. Little Fires Everywhere, Celeste Ng

Celeste Ng’s second novel is a careful study of privilege of all sorts, and an especially incisive look into whiteness. Little Fires Everywhere takes place in Shaker Heights, Ohio, a progressive slice of white suburbia. At the book’s center are the Richardsons, a well-off white family who are the types of people that may tell you that they don’t see race--in part because everyone they see is also white.  Things get shaken up when Mia Warren and her daughter Pearl arrive in town, marked as strange by their relative lack of wealth, and marked as even stranger by their lack of shame about it.  Each sentence is beautifully written, and each paragraph immaculately constructed. But honestly, the book is best summed up as: this is some white people nonsense.

10. The Lymond Chronicles (#1-6), Dorothy Dunnett

The Lymond Chronicles books are both the most high brow and most low brow books I read this year. They are densely written and plotted, with an inexhaustible supply of names for characters and teeming with minute details that almost all portend some future event or revelation. But they’re also chock-full of soap opera-style twists and tropes, aimed to quench your id’s every desire. All this makes for books that demand a lot, but then pay off with hilarious jokes, action sequences that convey more physicality and movement than most movies, and ridiculous third act reveals that are so incredibly satisfying. And like, on a selfish level,  it’s also real satisfying to read about people falling in love with and then aggressively berating Francis Crawford for three thousand pages. (He deserves it.)

9. My Life as a Goddess, Guy Branum

I read, or rather listen to, tons of memoirs - by comedians, actors, politicians, and writers. And Guy Branum’s My Life as a Goddess is easily my favorite of the year. Branum incisively writes about growing up as a gay kid in truly the-middle-of-nowhere California, touching on issues of masculinity, sexuality, class, body image, and education. Unsurprisingly, My Life as a Goddess is hilarious, chock-full of jokes and witty observations. More surprisingly, My Life as a Goddess is also deeply emotional, especially as Branum writes about his relationship as his father. Even more surprisingly, My Life as a Goddess is weirdly informative about a very specific slice of Canadian history. I cannot recommend the audiobook of this enough, as Guy Branum’s narration is smart, funny, and winning.

8. All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr

Does anyone really want to read a Pulitzer Prize winning literary fiction novel written by some white dude about World War II half from the point of view of a goddamn Nazi? No. No one wants to read that. Except, maybe I do. Because that’s exactly what All the Light We Cannot See is, and man is it a true revelation. The sheer humanity that Doerr imparts in his story creates a profoundly moving story, about goodness and cruelty and the indiscriminate destruction of war. The events of the story are uniformly bleak, as expected in a World War II novel, and yet the book’s tone feels decidedly hopeful, hungry to extract optimism from human persistence. It’s a stunningly written book that lays bare the complexities of people and the horrors of war.

7. Bad Blood, John Carreyrou

Bad Blood was truly the most unbelievable story I read this year. Wizards? Aliens? Time travel? All relatively believable compared to the intense, densely plotted, thrilling tale that unravels in Bad Blood, made all the more incredible by its truth. Bad Blood tells the story of Theranos, a Silicon Valley startup that claimed to be revolutionizing blood testing, and its founder Elizabeth Holmes, once described on magazine covers as “the next Steve Jobs.” John Carreyrou, the author, was the journalist who first broke the story of Theranos’s rampant fraud, and he stitches together a coherent, mesmerizing narrative from first-hand accounts of Theranos employees. Elizabeth Holmes is a fascinating antagonist, an ambitious, callous, maybe sociopath. The story is exciting and frustrating and will make you have even less faith in rich, powerful white people. But because this is non-fiction, the entire time you know that Elizabeth Holmes is  eventually going to end up being charged with numerous federal crimes. A truly satisfying ending.

6. Hyperbole and a Half, Allie Brosh

Allie Brosh didn’t invent the internet, but she at least has as much claim to modern internet culture as any other individual. Hyperbole and a Half is a collection of her best blog posts, with some additional, equally hilarious, stories thrown in. I hadn’t revisited her blog in years, and so it was striking just how little her style has aged. In a time where internet memes have life spans measured in hours, Hyperbole and a Half feels fresh nearly a decade later. The influence of her style and perspective on the internet is far-reaching. From the hilarious (her distinctively drawn self-rendering triumphantly declaring “CLEAN ALL THE THINGS” while holding a broom) to the insightful (her two-part essay on the amorphous gray muck of depression), her stories all feel as though they could be the origin story for any piece of internet ephemera. Hyperbole and a Half is at times farcical, at times poignant, and always raucously funny.

5. Shades of Magic (#1-3), V.E. Schwab

The Shades of Magic series (A Darker Shade of Magic, A Gathering of Shadows, and A Conjuring of Light) is the perfect fantasy adventure: the characters are imminently rootable, the world is seeped in magic, and the plot is intoxicating. The books are set in London, or Londons, rather. There are four parallel Londons, which have embraced, rejected, or surrendered to magic to varying degrees. Our protagonist, Kell, is one of the few with the ability to travel between the different Londons. And, well, hijinks ensue. Dark, sprawling, brutal, violent, life-consuming hijinks.

The Shades of Magic series is unburdened by its worldbuilding; V.E. Schwab could probably teach a semester’s worth of history lessons on her world, but does not feel the need show that off in the books themselves. They’re books to be devoured, not dissected. But it’s the characters that make the series so engrossing. Everyone is an archetype-a street-worn thief, a charming prince-but so well-drawn and understood that every character moment sparkles. And the central relationship of the book, between Kell and his brother Rhy, felt as though it was perhaps extracted directly from my brain. Kell is stoic, burdened by responsibility but determined to protect. Rhy, the aforementioned charming prince, injects Kell’s life with mischief and levity, and they’re so fundamentally dedicated to each other that it hurts. If a bunch of well-meaning idiots trying to save the world with magic is your thing, A Darker Shade of Magic may be the series for you.

4. Everything I Never Told You, Celeste Ng

If you thought a quiet, contained rumination on race, gender, nationality, and culture couldn’t also be a compelling, tense page-turner, let me introduce you to Everything I Never Told You. Everything I Never Told You is nothing short of literary alchemy. It begins with the death of Lydia, the model daughter of the Lee family--and, really, the model daughter of 1970s America. The book unravels the mystery of Lydia’s death, told through the vignettes from the lives of the Lee family members.

Celeste Ng is a master at using a paragraph to describe years of a character’s history and decades of American society all at once. Her characters are specific and sharply drawn, rooted deeply in their time and environment. Lydia, with a Chinese father and a white mother,  is mixed race (a term not added to the U.S. Census until 2000)--“one of only two Orientals” at her school.  The other, her brother Nathan, has learned to live in Lydia’s shadow in their parents’ mind’s eye.  Marilyn, Lydia’s mother, had her own ambitions sidelined by family. With a deft, heartfelt touch, Everything I Never Told You viscerally conveys their regrets for the words left unsaid and lives left unlived.

3. History Is All You Left Me, Adam Silvera

As this list makes clear, I loved a lot of Adam Silvera this year, and History Is All You Left Me stands out as my favorite. In dual timelines, History Is All You Left Me tells the story of Griffin after and up to the accident in which his ex-boyfriend Theo dies unexpectedly. And so, yes, the book is soaked in grief and loss. And, yes, it’s devastating and aching. But it’s also incredibly kind and empathetic. The characters are teenagers and make the choices of teenagers. Their actions are messy and rash and stupid, and Silvera leans into that, landing more than one self-inflicted heart-wrenching blow. But Silvera is also unfailingly patient with teenagers and understands their resilience; he lets his characters make mistakes and has faith that they will survive. And so the book is heavy, but optimistic. A refreshing reprieve from the gratuitous suffering and bleakness that tortures so much LGBT-themed fiction.  History Is All You Left Me is the most affecting book I read all year, and it still lingers in my bones. But the impression it has left is of life, not loss.

2. An American Sickness, Elisabeth Rosenthal

I bristle when someone describes a book as “important.” It always seems patronizing and self-serving, and my natural contrarian kicks in. I get it, you want to tell everyone how well-read or socially conscious you are because you read an “important” book. So it is with eyes wide open, and more than a twinge of self-loathing, that I say An American Sickness is an important book. It feels like essential reading, certainly for anyone trying to affect American healthcare policy, and at the very least useful for anyone who ever has to deal with the American healthcare system. It will make you angry and frustrated, but hopefully it will also arm you with information.

An American Sickness is broken up into two distinct parts: the first half lays out the issues with the current healthcare system, including how it came to be, and the second half presents solutions. Dr. Elisabeth Rosenthal writes accessibly about potentially dry, dense subject matter. The book’s purpose is not to exhaustively detail the history of healthcare, but to better equip the average person to navigate the system. Dr. Rosenthal provides anecdotes to anchor the matter in tangible issues and gives just enough context to sketch the motivations of the various actors - doctors, hospitals, insurers, pharma companies, etc. She presents solutions from two perspectives: (1) changing healthcare policy as a whole, and (2) navigating the system as an individual. In a methodical, step-by-step manner, the book explains concrete things a regular person can look out for, questions they can ask, and actions they can take to avoid--or challenge--exorbitant medical bills. There’s literally an appendix with fill-in-the-blank form letters to use to request billing information and challenge bills. You don’t have to read this book, but I want you to.

1. Chemistry, Weike Wang

Sometimes a book is so intimately catered to you it’s as if the author waded through your subconscious, fished out the tangled threads of your thoughts, and then wove them into a tapestry that displayed every single one of your hopes, dreams, and aspirations. For me, that book is Chemistry. Chemistry follows an unnamed Asian American protagonist who is discontented with her current situation: her long-term boyfriend, her Chemistry PhD program, and her relationship with her parents. And the novel unfolds as she comes to terms with that discontentment.

The economy of Weike Wang’s writing is spellbinding. She uses words so efficiently and so cleverly to craft sentences that seem fundamental. On seemingly every page, there was a new observation that felt so obviously true that I was surprised I had never read those exact words before. The book is filled with jokes, driven by the protagonist’s wry sarcasm and gentle disdain for things and people generally. The whole thing is somehow both simple and complex, an easily digestible read with a deceptively complex flavor. There are no splashy revelations or sudden tragedies, only hard-earned emotional truths and the realities of getting by. Chemistry nails the general spirit of just attempting to function as a normal human person in 2018.

[overthinkingkdrama]

Exit Rave: Money Flower

I didn't really realize this about myself until fairly recently, but I need my quotient of crazy sauce makjang melodrama to keep my passion for dramas alive. Last year it was Ms. Perfect coming swooping in to save me from my drama dryspell, this year it was Money Flower. This became a crack drama for me week over week from the premier. I need something just this twisted and dysfunctional in order to live my best life.

Money Flower is a Jang Hyuk helmed revenge melo that feels a little bit like a dark and gritty reimagining of Baker King Kim Tak Goo. There are a staggering number of plot similarities between the two shows. The primary difference being this: In Baker King our hero is a Human Cinnamon Roll way too obsessed with actual cinnamon rolls to bother avenging himself on anybody. In Money Flower, Kang Pil Joo is a reptilian chess master, way to obsessed with avenging himself to bother with literally anything else (including love, friendship or actual cinnamon rolls). Also, Baker King is slightly less murdery. Slightly.

I picked up Money Flower almost entirely on the strength of the poster (the one above on the left). Well, and because of Jang Hyuk's involvement. But that pretty much goes without saying as far as this blog is concerned. I wasn't sure how I felt about the match up with Park Se Young since in my head she's still that top student from School 2013, but it's not even Jang Hyuk's most mismatched pairing in recent memory (ahem, Beautiful Mind) so it didn't give me more than a momentary pause. That poster just has such an intriguing dark energy to it. Promising a heavy melodrama about a manipulative, deeply unhappy man, who uses his intelligence to ruin his life and the lives of everyone around him to his own ends. Which is exactly what this drama delivered.

I really think that's the best mindset to take into this. Come for Jang Hyuk playing an almost preternaturally competent chess master type character and stay for the makjang madness and the unaccountable chemistry he has with nearly every other character.

A couple provisos I will make before recommending Money Flower to anyone. You definitely want to know what kind of thing you're getting into here.

I often have a knee-jerk defensive reaction to anyone who would refer to Kdramas as "Korean soap operas" because the term "soap opera" at least in the United States has a distinctly unflattering, low-rent connotation. As we all know Kdrama has a lot to offer narratively, rhetorically, and each show can vary wildly in terms of production values. I don't judge every drama using the same rubric. In fact, I am admittedly much harder on dramas with very obvious merits (My Just Between Lovers and First Life reviews are good examples of this pattern) than I am on trashier fare. There is definitely a sliding scale at play here.

Money Flower is one of those dramas you can pretty legitimately classify as a soap. A compelling one. A very well paced one, but a soap nonetheless. I'm not too proud to admit that. I liked the soapiness and the insanity. This is good schlocky fun. For best results you probably don't want to fully engage critical thrusters. Something about this drama feels very old school, like it could have been made any time in the past 15 years. Although the critique of the corrupt conglomerate system feels pretty contemporary. If you enjoy dramas along the lines of Baker King, That Winter the Wind Blows, or even something like I'm Sorry, I Love You then this is probably be to your taste.

Moving into the actual review, I will say that I was impressed at the writers ability to maintain the tension and continue serving up cliffhanger after juicy cliffhanger week after week. Consider the dramas 24 episode run, that's no mean feat. Whether all those turns added up to a fully realized story is up for debate, but I think so.

As to the characters, I won't lie to you, they're all terrible people. Every single one of them twisted or greedy or obsessive but most of the time all three. (All of them except for Mo Hyun, who is kind and pure and didn't deserve to be mixed up with any of this.) But they’re very interesting terrible people, and therein lies the fun. Pil Joo especially walks that tenuous line of ruthless anti-hero that made me frequently question his actions and his justifications for them. At times I didn't even know if I wanted him to succeed, but the drama always managed to bring me around in the end. It was supremely satisfying in that way.

I think the character with the most wholly engaging dynamic arc was Jang Boo Cheon. My attitude about him changed from hostility, to ambivalence, to genuine interest and concern by the end of the drama. I'm well aware I'm in the minority on this one, but by the end of the drama Boo was my favorite character. He was just full of narrative possibilities. What side he'd ultimately land on was up in the air until the very last episode. He reminds me very much of Ma Jun from Baker King. A spoiled and unlikable character with unexpected emotional depth who makes you root for his redemption. Shout out to actor Jang Seung Jo who I thought really knocked his role out of the park, I hope he gets more and better roles moving forward. The extended cast, most particularly Lee Mi Sook as the truly fascinating Jung Mal Ran, all do a great job.

I liked the ending of this drama, though not as much as I wanted to. I think in the end they wanted to have everything at once and it made some of the choices in the finale feel a bit slapdash and manipulative. The fact that that's pretty much the worst thing I have to say about the writing is frankly a miracle.

For the hours of sheer enjoyment it furnished me and keeping that sliding scale of quality in mind, I give Money Flower a 8/10. A solid addition to the sizable Jang Hyuk filmography and to the revenge-melo genre in general.

[imnoexpertblog]

Lonely Netflix Movie Binge

6/21/18

In my boredom with Baby being gone on his business trip and needing something to watch/listen to while I pack up our apartment, I have been watching random Netflix movies that were suggested to me based on my interest and past viewings. I never watch new movies alone. I can re-watch anything I want by myself but I like seeing new stuff with someone else. Over some intense self-reflection the past few years I think this is because I have always had company in some form throughout my life. I was rarely alone. I never had to do anything myself. My mom was very social when I was growing up and she always had friends over. My siblings were also always with me. Then as I got older, I was usually in a relationship. When I was single, I had a roommate I was very close to. I’ve become used to doing things with someone else. Going out to eat, watching new movies, going to events, even just hanging out. It’s not to say I can’t do these things by myself, I have grown to appreciate my alone-time. But. I prefer to have company when doing certain things. I like sharing experiences with people; talking about what we are doing, making memories, having someone else to enjoy time with. But with Baby being away, I forced myself to watch six whole new movies by myself! These are the ones and what I thought about them. (I tried to pick unique and understated ones but that were still specifically recommended to me by Netflix and that went… Not so great).

Adore

“Two lifelong best friends each begin a steamy affair with the other's son, but trouble begins to brew when one of the two young men desires a lover his own age.” I have seen the cover art for this movie for a long time now, maybe a year. I don’t know why I have skipped over it every time until this week; maybe because I never read what it was about. The synopsis intrigued me enough to start watching it though. Seems pretty risky and taboo, doesn’t it? That always makes something enticing. I will say, though, it is odd. It has a soap-opera type of feel to it. Instead of being really cliché, it turned out to feel a little deeper than that. I am not sure how believable the whole plot is, but who watches a movie to see a boring realistic story? I was pleased with the cast and the acting. I think it was scored well, too. There is tension and drama, but it’s a calm flick. I wasn’t sure what to make of this movie until I found out it’s actually a French production. That changed my perspective a bit, considering the difference in culture. The setting made it easy to watch; the beach is absolutely gorgeous. I was genuinely interested to see how in the world this unique situation would turn out. The reviews aren’t very good, but I didn’t hate it, my any means. I thought it was interesting to see how everything played out for them all.

Open House

“A teenager and his mother find themselves besieged by threatening forces when they move into a new house.” This one I was excited for initially when it was new. I like thrillers and I like the main actor, Dylan Minnette from 13 Reasons Why. But man oh man. This movie is so slow. Not until half-way through the film did I actually feel some excitement or anticipate what comes next. The whole beginning half I was just kind of waiting. The “build-up” didn’t build me up at all. I was bored watching this. The real excitement did start until there was 22 minutes left in the movie. A lot of wasted time, if you ask me. The same “scary” weird things happen through the entire first 3/4 of the movie and it was just redundant and anticlimactic. But once it got going, HOLY COW. I will say I was so confused because there didn’t seem to be anything in the movie that would point me in any direction of guessing what was happening once the action was going down. So, that also frustrated me. It was a pretty intense last 20 minutes or so, but that is not to say it was good. Thumbs down for sure.

Below Her Mouth

“Jasmine is a successful fashion editor living with her fiancé. On a night out in the city with her best friend, she meets Dallas, a roofer recently out of a relationship. Surprised by the confidence with which Dallas pursues her, Jasmine turns Dallas down but can't get her out of her head. When Jasmine finally succumbs, the two women embark on a steamy affair that forces them both to re-evaluate their lives.” Okay. I didn’t expect this movie to have so much sex in it. Again, I watched it out of intrigue for the taboo nature of it. And taboo it was, oh my goodness. There was no limit to nudity or openness of sexual scenes. I have no issue with intimate scenes, but I was surprised to see just how much there was involved in the film. It seemed to be overkill at some points. I was fascinated by how these two women acted with and towards each other so early on in knowing each other. I guess I can’t judge. Baby and I felt like we were together forever by the time we were a week into seeing each other. We acted like it, too. Anyway, this movie just seemed like a lot of erotic moments with little substance. I did need to know how this affair would unravel, though. Not sure how I feel about the ending. All of that being said, I wasn’t sure how to rate this.  It is rated pretty poorly overall. A lot of people attacked the main focus being on sex. Which it was. It got in the way of getting to know the characters. There was nothing to invest myself in. The acting was also dull until the erotic scenes. The more I type, the more I realize that I was unimpressed, as was everyone else. I’ve read that this is a crappy version of another movie on Netflix, “Blue is the Warmest Color.” Maybe I will watch that next.

Friend Request

“Laura is a popular college student who graciously accepts an online friend request from Marina, a young social outcast. To everyone's shock, Marina takes her own life after Laura decides to unfriend her. Soon, a disturbing and mysterious video appears on Laura's profile and her contacts slowly dwindle. When her friends suddenly begin to die one by one, the frightened young woman must figure out a way to stop the carnage before it's too late.” I remember seeing the trailer for this in theaters back when it came out 2 years ago. I did NOT want to watch this movie. I thought it looked ridiculous, to be honest. I have never been interested in the social . I know I shouldn’t watch anything remotely scary if I have to sleep alone (I have issues with a type of nightmare/sleep disorder but we will get into that another time) but beyond my better judgement, I watched it anyway. I was actually very interested the whole time I was watching. I did think the kills were different. The reviews are horrible. People have ripped this movie apart. Maybe I’m a broken human being (LOL) but I didn’t mind it. I also actually really enjoyed the ending. I wasn’t sure how this could end up, but I like the way they did it. Again, I’m on the fence about rating it. I wouldn’t say it was great, but I wasn’t struggling to watch it either.

Inconceivable

“Angela develops a friendship with a mysterious woman named Katie and offers her a job as a live-in nanny. The natural bond soon turns into a dangerous obsession as Katie becomes overly attached to the family's young daughter. Enduring lies and manipulations, Angela and her husband realize that sweet Katie is actually trying to destroy their family from within.” This started off with a bang. It also revealed the twist within the first half of the movie. I was pretty interested in it the whole time because I liked the story-line. You get enough information at the right pace. It didn’t drag and it didn’t bore me at any time. I was a little apprehensive with how all these movies have been underwhelming this week, but I liked this. I didn’t find it predictable. The reviews, you guessed it, are bad. I actually rarely agree with reviews on movies that aren’t huge. I didn’t this movie to have crappy reviews though, to be honest. I recommend this movie.

Dismissed

“An optimistic, straight-edged teacher finds trouble when a star student is willing to do anything to get an A.” Alright. First of all. Dylan Sprouse acted the hell out of this role. I was thoroughly impressed with him in this film. He was so believable! A great film about psychopathy. I was hooked right away, even with the vague synopsis/summary. There was so much potential for this to be so cheesy but it wasn’t at all. They didn’t hold back in this film; the incidents that occurred. Some reviews said it was predictable but I highly disagree. Reviews also said it was low budget (is also said that they did well with such a low budget) but I didn’t see it that way. I don't want to give too much away because really liked it and I recommend it.

I wish I had better suggestions for you guys, I really only recommend Inconceivable and Dismissed out of these six movies. I guess I’d say watch Adore if you are bored and wanna throw something on for background noise; something to catch every now and then while cleaning maybe. Friend Request might have been something I liked just because I like scary movies, but watching those can be fun. Below Her Mouth, honestly is just super erotic. Take that as you may. And lastly… Please, I beg of you, never waste your time on Open House.

In other news, I have decided to take this day to myself. If you are not my fiancé, I can't promise I will be talking to you today. I have packed a lot (which I wouldn't have gotten done without the help of my sister Vanny, my best friend from work, Ryan, and his best friend named Cal), slept less than I've wanted to, been to the bank too many times, and have seen my mortgage lender too often lately. It is time to shower, sleep, watch better movies for sure, and lay around without having to answer ANYONE. If you feel like you've been stretched too thin or you're stressed, you should consider doing the same. I've been non-stop going at it for about six weeks now and I deserve this. I love you all, but I need today. Comment away, just expect a response tomorrow. Xoxo.

[theunaccomplishedwriter]

The Differences That Divide Us - Part 3: The One They Forgot

Well it’s back, my fanfic that I will get finish one day. Hope you like this new installment. Please reblog, leave comments, reviews, likes, and go check it out on Fanfiction.net as well!

Pushing through the revolving doors into the darkened square, Nick paused for a moment outside the ZPD. After four hours of overtime with what seemed to be the largest stack of paperwork ever assembled by mammal kind, Nick was glad to have the chance to just stand for a moment and inhale the crisp night’s air as it tingled his nostrils, before softly soothing his entire being, the tensions slipping off as easily as a coat.

Heading off into the amber tinted night, Nick took in the strange stillness of everything. The raging rivers of people had reduced to mere trickle, all heads down into their phones or staring off with vacantly glazed over eyes that take in nothing and mere walk on their automated path to their usual haunts and homes. The noises of bustling pawsteps, cars horns, ringtones, shouted greeting, and incensed accusations had vanished, the low hum of the streetlights being the only note played this quite monotonous part of Zootopia’s usually vibrant soundtrack. The explosive colour of day had been transmuted into a more subdued beauty of night which, even with the benefits of night vision, Nick readily appreciated, having spent enough nights out in the open to recognise its wonder.

Nick’s legs led him on his own automated path, letting his mind warm up after hours of tedious information having been its only lacklustre nourishment. He tried to think back when he last ate, wading through the spreadsheets and crime reports before finally landing on the doughnut which Judy left on his desk before leaving. It was a nice parting gift, with blueberry jam bursting out in every direction on his first bite, staining his muzzle and paws, which Nick gleefully lapped up.

It had been a while since Nick had been without his ever-present bunny partner. It had been a running joke in the office that they were joined at the hip when they first were partnered together. Not only were they on every case together, but their desks were right beside one another, they had lunch together, got spotted going to the pictures together, got ribbed and asked probing questions when Nick was seen leaving Judy’s place on more than one occasion. The couple jokes were ZPD daily routine, even when Judy and Nick revealed the true nature of their partnership, everyone laughed.  Even Bogo let out a snort of derision. It was only when Judy’s anxious face turned into her trademark steely gaze and calmly stated that she wasn’t joking that the laughter abruptly stopped. Any remnants of doubt were gone when Nick took hold of her paw and looked up at everyone, the same daring expression on his usual relaxed face.

In hindsight, although the jokes were sometimes a bit too crass for Judy’s, and sometimes even Nick’s liking, they made the acceptance of their relationship at the ZPD a lot easier. Even Bogo, notorious for his dislike of work relationships, let it slide, stating in characteristic bluntness that he trusted ‘Hopps to keep everything professional between them at work’. Nothing changed really, other than the fact that they were stuck together even more than they had been before and the jokes became interested questions.

But even so, after being together for so long, it was an incredibly strange feeling for Nick to be walking home alone. He kept expecting to hear the pawsteps of the tired but still joyous bunny walking beside him, probably listening to Gazelle while holding his paw. He almost could feel her soft fur entwined with his.

It wasn’t as if Judy hadn’t a valid reason to be away and he for being ‘the responsible one’, a role which he was still finding an odd to adjust to, even after becoming a police officer. Indeed, after months of vacillating with work and general procrastination, Judy had finally got her parents to come up to Zootopia and get the business of their blessing ceremony in Bunnyburrow done and dusted. Nick had been sprawled out on the sofa many times while Judy paced the floor on the phone with her mum or dad trying to get this whole thing sorted, he was just delighted that this ongoing soap opera was nearing its end.

After bimbling through the streets, Nick finally reached the flats, the building lit like a beacon in storm, calling all weary travellers to it.  After a swift lift ride up, Nick strolled down the corridor and, after fumbling with his keys, pushed the door open and swiftly flung onto the sofa burying his head within the cushions.

Mulling over whether to slip into sweet unconsciousness, the sound of footsteps softly approaching his made his ears twitch and a smirk to creep around the corners of his face. The sofa bounced a little as Judy hopped onto its edge before lying down on top of him, with her entire being only taking up his torso. Feeling her little frame on his back, her small nose breathing him in, her leg reaching down and entwining with his own, Nick felt complete, as if that lost limb had returned, making him whole.

Turning her head softly, Judy gently whispered to his ear; “Good day then?”

“The. Best”. Judy chuckled at Nick’s half-hearted and half-muffled sarcasm.

“I’m so glad to hear that. It is a shame though, ‘cos if it had been a bad day I might have had something special for you.”

With that Judy sprang off the now bemused Nick, who shot up like a bamboo, his eyes wide at the prospect of losing something he didn’t know was being offered. Judy stood at the edge of the sofa, her cunning, violet eyes glinting with glee at Nick’s bewildered look. Nick quickly composed himself into his trademark half-lidded nonchalance, attempting to capture that elusive prize.

“Oh it was the worst.” Nick replied, hamming it up for her. Judy smirked. “Oh was it now?” Judy replied, folding her arms and resting on her weight on her back foot, the classic ‘I totally don’t believe you pose’. “How bad was it?” Judy questioned, spinning on her heel as she did so before slowly making her way towards the kitchen. Nick hauled himself off the sofa to follow.

“Oh yeah, you don’t even know the half of it. I mean, Bogo dropped a massive pile of paperwork on my desk, and then I had to give Clawhauser the Heimlich manoeuvre to stop him from chocking on a donut, I had to save the mayor from a gang of raccoons, and… and the coffee machine wasn’t working. Utter mayhem!”

Having climbed up her small step so she could see over the counter, Judy remained facing away, slowly making a cup of green tea in that forced slowness that betrays the façade of the act. Nick slipped his arms between her, holding her against him as he nuzzled the side of her face his muzzle.

“Oh that sounds really bad.” Judy replied, still not looking at him but hamming it up right back. “In that case, since it was such a bad day you’re probably too exhausted to get the special something.”

Even though Nick could feel her giggling, Nick knew when to play the drama queen. “Oh, how you could you treat me so Judy!” Nick said, his voice going an octave higher and throwing his hand in the air in mock despair. “A poor, defenceless fox being thrust in the hazardous world of overtime being promised some delectable treat from a bunny as charming as yourself only to have it snatched away, is there no justice in the–”.

Mid-speech, Judy span around, grabbed him by the tie, and tugged him in for a kiss. Momentarily startled by her forcefulness, Nick relaxed into the kiss, reciprocating and enveloped his arms around her, holding her in a soft embrace.

There was something revitalising about Judy, no matter how down or exhausted Nick became, Judy always managed to perk him back up, whether it be a kiss, a hug, or occasionally scratching behind his right ear, a weak spot that Judy used sparingly but maliciously. It wasn’t as if Nick didn’t know and do the same things for Judy. There were many an occasion when walking through the ZPD Nick would gently rung one of his claws up Judy’s back, making her shiver in ecstasy before turning in fury and threatening to punch him. It was still worth it, despite the bruises.

“Alright that’s enough you” Judy said, pushing the hungry fox away. “I’ve got to get ready anyway. There’s some leftovers in the microwave if you want. I’m just gonna get changed.” Any protest Nick might have had evaporated as his stomach snarled at the mere mention of food. Judy giggled and stepped into the bedroom, leaving Nick holding his belly and blushing under his fur.

Nick swivelled the microwave dial without checking what was in there and flopped down on the sofa, the time marked by the growing grumblings of his gut. Soon the microwave pinged and Nick brought out a piping hot plate of veggie stir fry. Popping the plate at the table, and grabbing a pair of chopsticks, Nick wolfed down the plate, placating his body’s need for sustenance and ignoring the stinging heat on his tongue.

Just as he finished the last morsel, Judy reappeared complete in ZPD uniform, rubbing the badge with the back of her paw to a gleaming shine.

“Being fancy, are you?” Judy remarked, gesturing to the chopsticks resting by his side.

“Hey, you’re just jealous you can’t use them.” Judy brow knotted with frustration. Watching Judy try to use chopsticks was like watching Clawhauser trying not to eat donuts, both ended messily.

“How was the family anyway? You finally get anything sorted?” Nick asked, quickly changing conversation.

“It was great!” Judy exclaimed as her face lit up, a wide smile instantaneously covering her face cheek to cheek. “Mum and dad even brought up a few of my nephew and nieces. It’s been so long since I’ve seen any of any of them my family so it was good to see a few of them.”

“A few?”

“Well, only a couple really. You could hardly get 275 siblings in here!” Judy laughed.

“Nice, so how many of the clan did you squeeze in here? Ten? Twenty?”

“Yeah, and about twenty kits as well. It was like a little burrow in here!”

The thought of forty bunnies jammed packed into their flat, with twenty young and hyperactive bunnies hopping, swinging, and running everywhere shot through Nick’s mind. He was surprised that everything was still neat and tidy, probably neater than it usual. Judy had definitely done the whole ‘parent clean’ to impress them or at least make us look halfway civilised, with all the pizza boxes and tea mug rings disappeared from the coffee table and the kitchen still clinging on to that freshly cleaned smell unmistakable in last minute cleans.

“Must have been snug” Nick grinned. “Get any of the nitty gritty details sorted when I was away?”

“Yeah, we talked about tonnes! Johnny’s finally gotten engaged to Linda Warren, I swear they have been going out since primary school so it’s about time they got together. You should have seen the look on his face when dad brought it up, he was practically beat red! The wedding’s happening later so mum’s gonna have to get more burrows sorted for the new bunnies soon, which could be very soon if you listen to what Jillian say. Mum and dad’s partnership is going really well. Apparently, blueberry pies are going down a storm at his bakery. According to mum he’s got order months in advance and, since he’s started doing morning tea, he gets a queue of rabbits so long down the street he’s had to get help! It’s great to see his life turn around after everything while growing up. Oh, and also…”

Judy wittered on for what to others might have seemed an eternity but to Nick was a frankly brief catch up on what was going on back in Bunnyburrow. Despite knowing all the Bunnyburrow’s juicy gossip and being married into the family, Nick had never had the chance to go down there to see everyone who’s life he knew in deep, vivid detail.

It was hard to get the time off, what with being part of the ZPD as well as being partnered with its most enthusiastic member, but even going on their days off never seemed to happen. In any case, Stu and Bonnie had come up and met them in Zootopia several times. Nick had been nervous on their first meeting, but they got on well enough now, Stu even cried for joy and hugged them both when Judy told them they were engaged.

Since then Stu had been trying to get them down to Bunnyburrow for a proper family meeting but it always remained a forever next time, with things just coming in Bunnyburrow that Stu and Bonnie had to sort out that stopped them short of going down. Not this time though, Stu had a look of determination in his eyes at the weeding. Nick could tell come hell or high water, they were destined to go down to the Hopps’.

“That’s great and all Carrots” Nick interrupted “but I did mean about the blessing that we’re meant to be doing. You know that thing we’ve been trying to get done for months?”

“Oh right! Yeah, sorry, I can get a bit carried away sometimes. Well we got all the guests sorted out that aren’t family sorted out so expect quite few there, it is a majority bunny event. We’re going to be using the barn so we can most the family to fit in and the rest can watch from the door, and Father Hareton will do blessing. Apparently, it’ll be his first interspecies blessing so he’s quite excited.”

“That’s good, I don’t think we can use Mr Big’s persuasion every time we need the clergy for something.”

Judy giggled. “Don’t worry, I don’t think word of that made it down the grapevine to Bunnyburrow quite yet so I think we’re alright. We’ve settled on 17th next month so we can get the time off and they can get everything sorted for us.”

Nick nodded in agreement, finished up his dinner and, with Judy’s eyes boring into the back of his head, made the conscious effort to stick his plate in the dishwasher instead of its usual home of the sink to be met by seven or eight of its brethren over the coming days. Judy jumped out the chair and started heading over to the door.

“Have you told your mum yet?”

Nick let out a sigh. “I’ve been waiting till we had everything confirmed with your side. You do not know how many texts I’ve had off her?”

“I think I do, you keep forgetting to put the thing on silent And I wake up to your ringtone going off at three in the morning. Does your mum ever sleep?”

“God knows. Knowing her I wouldn’t put it past her to set an alarm at ridiculous o’clock in the morning just to send those messages and then go back to sleep.”

Nick’s mum Vivian was one of those vixens that, having reunited with their child after so long of being kept apart due to Nick’s previous lifestyle, had sought to make up for lost time by being the embarrassing mother she had missed out on and was revelling in every moment. The wedding had been no different, with her telling every story she could remember from Nick’s childhood to embarrass him to his ZPD colleagues, deliberately trying to be ‘cool’ and ‘hip’ and ‘down with the kids’, as well as loudly proclaiming what her grandkits would look like, making both he and Judy so red they could have been roses.

There was no doubt in Nick’s mind that this wouldn’t change at the blessing but he wouldn’t miss it having her there for the world. She may embarrass him but she felt he deserved it. For so long he had been an embarrassment, a con artist fox, the perfect stereotype. Now that was all different. They reconnected, they bonded. She met Judy and loved her for all she was and all she had done to help Nick from the very first instant. If there was anyone to fight their corner, it was his mum, so if a little embarrassment was what he had to pay, then so be it.

“What time will you be finished?”

“Sometime about four or five I believe, unless somebody gets too drunk then it might be later.”

Doing the overnight shift wasn’t a pleasant prospect, but all the money they’d spent on the wedding they needed some coppers in the bank.

“Okay, well I’ll be especially quiet for when you get in then.” Nick said, walking over to her and hugging her goodbye.

“You better be” Judy shot back. “otherwise a certain fox will be sleeping on the couch for quite a while.”

“Love you too.” Nick chuckled. “Now go on or you’ll be late.”

Judy smiled. “Dumb fox.” Planting a small peck on his cheek, Judy whipped round and bounded out of the door.

With the sounds of her paws quickly receding down the stairs, as Judy and apparently slow moving lifts were never a good combination, Nick relaxed back into his usual place in the old sofa and began to idly flick through the TV stations, eventually settling on some low budget noir film from the 50’s. He’d not seen it before but right from the off he knew the villain would be a predator of some sort, seeing as how all the main detective was the stereotypical hard drinking ram tormented by his past and doesn’t go by the book but he gets the job done, dammit!

That and it was the 50s. All predators were villains in the 50s. And the 60s. Well the 70s, 80s, 90s and even to an extent the 00’s if you wanted to be pedantic about it, but it was changing slowly. Last year he saw a film with a panda as a villain. Not the main villain but, it’s a start at least.

Felling quite snug, Nick’s eyes began to close, allowing his mind to switch off while the noir film became background noise and then silence.

Waking up bleary eyed and slow witted, his brain not fully woken up from the short nap, Nick turned his head to see the film had ended and the late night ZNN news was on, with a snow leopard having a difficult time interviewing the almost evangelical preaching of giraffe, emblazoned with a massive Herbivism badge on his suit lapel. Nick swiped up the remote and turned the TV off in a single well practiced motion, before making his way to bed.

Switching on the light, Nick made for the en-suite. Nick was proud of the fact they had an en-suite attached to their bedroom. Whereas Judy had had a communal bathroom at the Grand Pangolian Apartments and, before Nick went on his apartment hopping days, Nick either had to use public bathrooms or very public bathrooms.

As Nick opened the door and reached for the light switch inside, his ears perked up to the sound a small creak coming from within the bedroom. Swivelling his head around, Nick saw the wardrobe door slowly moving open, creaking all the way as it did so before stopping half open.

“Odd” Nick thought, moving across the room to close the door. Just as his paw reached the wooden door, force already prepared in his arm to slam the door shut, a pair of small paws caught his eye. A pair of small bunny paws. Too small to be Judy’s. Swinging the door open, a tiny grey blur at his feet. It only took a moment for the vagueness to take the form of a half-turned bunny, with bright blue eyes staring up at him.

For a moment both Nick and the bunny remained motionless, as if blinded by headlights, unable to move away from the oncoming danger yet still not realising their imminent fate.

“Hey kid,” Nick said, coming to senses first “you alright?”

Nick moved an inch in the bunny’s direction and it was if the bunny was electrocuted back to life, jolting back to life, launching herself away from Nick and straight up against the wall behind her. Her eyes were truly open now, taking in the fox before her and the rest of her body reacted accordingly, her nose began to twitch; her body hunkered down against the wall with only her paws gripping against the faint bumps and crevices keeping her from collapsing; her breathing becoming rapid and harsh, her eyes momentarily darting away looking for an escape. A trapped prey.

“Woah! Hey, hey, hey!” Nick said, throwing his paws up. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You alright there?”

The bunny’s eyes stopped darting and looked at him with such intensity that it almost made Nick feel guilty. She looked at him as if everything for her had melted out of existence, everything around her, everything outside the room, the building, the city, the state. Only she and he remained, with this being the last thing her deep, sapphire eyes would see.

“So” Nick began tentatively “I’m guessing you’re one of the Hopps’ aren’t you?” The bunny’s ears perked up a little, the intensity of the stare became less fearful and more curious. Okay, Nick thought, it’s a start.

“Guessing I’m right then, aren’t I?” Nick chuckled. A smirk quickly flickered on the bunny’s face. “Were you here to visit your sister Judy?”

The bunny eye’s widened with surprise, before she gave a tentative nod.

“Okay and you were here with you mum, right? And your brothers and sisters?”

Again, the bunny silently nodded, having now come out of her attempt to merge with the wall and now stood straight, cautious but not totally afraid now. Looking at her, it was kind of hard to believe that she was related to Judy in anyway. For one thing, she was miniscule. She barely came up to Nick’s thigh, with her shortened ears just creeping above his waist. Nearly everything about her was miniature, her paws, feet, legs, almost every aspect of her was diminutive. Except her eyes. Compared to the rest of her tiny body, her eyes seemed alert, as if possessing another form of sight granted by the two vast oceans of ultramarine iris’.

“Yeah” the tiny, sharp voice escaping from her.

Nick relaxed a bit. “Good to know. Sorry but seeing as there’s a couple hundred of you, I lose track of who’s who. What’s your name?”

“Molly” she replied, her body relaxing as if all the tensions simply fell away just by simply introducing herself.

“Nice to meet you, Molly. My name’s Nick.” He said, gently offering a paw.

Tentatively, Molly moved forward and gripped onto Nick’s smallest paw pad, with Nick being careful to shake gently and not to fling around this sentient plush toy of a bunny.

With Molly now out of the wardrobe and sitting on the sofa, fiddling with the TV buttons which was almost the size of her, Nick dialled Bonnie’s number, wondering if Nick was the first or four hundredth and first person to report one of her kits being left behind somewhere.  If I had that many kits, Nick thought, I could probably go years without noticing twenty of them gone, let alone a small one. After a few rings, a monosyllabic voice came down the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Er, hey, is Bonnie?”

“Yeah.”

Helpful child, Nick thought.

“Can she come to the phone, please?”

“Yeah.”

Still nothing.

“Can you ask her?” Nick asked, his patience already wearing thin.

“Kay.” The rabbit replied followed by a loud shout “MUM! PHONE!”. A little while later, with a few notes of scolding in the background, Bonnie’s familiar voice came on the line.

“Hello, who’s this?”

“Hey Bonnie, it’s Nick.”

“Oh Nick!” Bonnie replied, her voice going up an octave. “How are you? Judy told us you were doing a long shift today. Sorry we missed you but we had to get back and get the young ones to bed.”

“Er, yeah, about that…” Nick said, his free paw almost instinctively rubbing the back of his neck. “Seems you’ve left a small one back at ours.”

From the noise that came down the other end, it was safe to assume that Molly was indeed the first she had lost and that the entirety of Bunny Burrow, and anyone who with a sense of hearing within a five-mile radius of the phone Nick was holding at ear drum disintegrating distance, now knew.

It took a while for the power of speech to put the power of panic into a headlock, with Molly now paying full attention to Nick who was both holding the phone at full arm’s reach away from him and soothing the remnants of his ear with this free paw, but soon Bonnie calmed enough for intelligible words to stutter out of her mouth.

“Who – oh cheese and crackers – wh-wh-who is it? I thought we got them everyone?! Stu, get everyone up! We’re doing a headcount right now! I could have sworn I got everyone, oh carrot sticks.”

“Bonnie, calm down.” Nick said, eventually getting through the panicked warble and hopefully preventing the military inspection going on in the background. “It’s Molly, I’ve got Molly here, okay. Please calm down. You’re kind of panicking her and me as well to be honest.” Nick looked over to Molly, already clasping one of Judy’s cushions to her body, her eyes fixated on the wailing receiver.

“Molly? It’s Molly! Stu I told you to keep an eye on Molly! Well clearly you didn’t ‘cos Nick’s got her! I’m sorry Nick is she okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine. To be honest I almost jumped out my pelt when I saw her coming out my wardrobe.”

“Coming out your wardrobe?”

“Yeah, that was a bit weird.” Nick admitted, trying to laugh it off. “Guess they were playing hide and seek or something and she fell asleep.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. She does end up in some weird places that one. Always wandering off somewhere.” Bonnie replied, her tone with an air of slight exasperation.

“Good to know, so when should I bring her down?”

“Huh?”

“Molly. I’ve got the day off tomorrow, I can drive her down if you like.”

“Oh no” Bonnie cried “Th-there’s no need for that! I, I can come and pick Molly up! I can be there before dawn if I get the next train. Stu, when does the -”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Nick interrupted. Bonnie was a great mum, but sometimes her maternal nature kicked into overdrive.  “There’s no need for that. If you’re dead set on coming up, then by all means come up but you don’t need to rush. Molly’s fine and I’ll get her all sorted for when you come up tomorrow, sound good?”

“Erm” Bonnie hesitated “okay, if that’s alright with you and Judy.”

“It’s fine and I’m sure Judy will love having one of her siblings over for a little bit.”

“Oh, so where’s Judy then? Has she just popped out then?” Bonnie asked.

Nick remained silent. Surely Judy told her that she was on duty tonight? That’s not something Judy would forget about. No, she’s definitely told them, Bonnie’s just forgot that’s all. Just as the first breath of his reply came out, Bonnie quickly interrupted him.

“Well, I’m sure Judy will be back soon. She just loves her siblings so I’m sure Molly will be fine with her. I’ll ring tomorrow to let her know when I’m coming up then, okay? Lovely to talk to you Nick. Bye!”

Before Nick could utter even the first sound of the word bye, the hang up tone rang into his ear. Shoving the phone back in his pocket, Nick looked over to the expectant bunny, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Is, is mum coming then?” her voice still barely over a whisper.

Nick sighed. “Yeah, she’ll be here first thing in the morning Little Miss Hide-and-Seek. And” looking at his watch” I think it’s time someone went to bed. We can discuss the whole you being in the wardrobe thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Molly yawned in reply, the tiredness seeping in as soon as bed was mentioned.

Turning the TV back off, Nick herded Molly to their room and plonked her in Judy’s and his bed. With her tiny head placed in front of two massive pillow and her body not even fifth of the bed’s length was almost too cute for words.

Stifling an almost compulsive aww, Nick headed to the door to fall asleep back on the sofa.

“Mister Fox?” the tiny voiced called out.

“Yeah?” Nick replied, turning back towards her, his hand on the doorknob.

“Why are you in Judy’s house?”

That threw him for a loop for a moment.

“Erm, I live here.”

“Why?” cam to instantaneously reply.

“Because I married Judy. I’m her husband.” Nick replied, half laughing.

Molly just stared at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped. In a weird way, it was almost refreshing to have someone so openly shocked at the thought of a fox-bunny couple instead of just getting the usual looks of disdain.

“But you’re a fox.”

“Very good detective skills there, Molly” Nick replied, a little sarcasm peeking through.

“But isn’t Judy married to a bunny?”

Nick stiffened up. Why would she think that? Why would she say that? A million other thoughts passed through his head while the young bunny looked on for an answer.

“Well really” Nick replied in a faux offended tone. “she could have at least told me!”

Molly giggled, causing Nick to smile. It was cute, not that he;d ever say it.

“When she gets home I’m going to have a word with this naughty bunny about and her other husband but before then I want you to have a good night sleep, alright little-un?”

“Okay” came the giggled reply, before Molly turned over, tucking the covers round her as Nick left, switching the light off before closing the door.

Grabbing a spare blanket, Nick tried to make himself comfy on the sofa but the sleep that had come so easily before now eluded him expertly. Why would Molly say that? Surely, we must be the talk of Bunnyburrow by now? A fox and a rabbit married? The way Judy told him about the place it would have been going through the gossip mill for at least another century. Something was wrong here and, turning over and shutting his eyes to try and catch some needed sleep, Nick knew, one way or another, he was going to find out.

[loneangel]

Avengers- the Drama

Pairings: Vision x Wanda, Natasha x Bruce

Warnings: Sexual tension, regular tension, CA-Civil War spoilers and some Age of Ultron spoilers

Author’s note: Sorry this is so long, guys. I really appreaciate you reading it anyway. I've been thinking about making this story-line into a several part series, so let me know if you want to hear more. Thanks!

It had been months since the ‘civil war’ ended. At least, that's what the media was saying. Firstly, It hadn't been a civil war....not really. It was just two superheroes choosing opposing sides. Two friends fighting. Secondly, it hadn't ended a few months after the big showdown. Sure, both sides had realized that mistakes were made. Both sides had made apologies and then kissed and made up. But none of them really expected Avengers tower to be the same. And it wasn't.

Steve was always the first one up. No one knew if he even slept at all, but it was a subject he firmly avoided. He walked into the kitchen, or shuffled really. His grey sweatpants were marked with the Avengers’ sign, as if he was trying to be a constant reminder to the others about what they used to be. As usual, his shirt was a snug-fitting workout shirt. Apparently none of the New York clothing stores sold super-soldier-sized clothes. He yawned widely as he shuffled over to the coffee maker and flicked it on. He knew that Clint preferred to go out for Starbucks, but everyone else wanted to be awake as quickly as possible, so he was sure to make enough for everyone. Just like he did every morning. While the coffee was brewing, he wandered around the rest of the apartment opening the blinds and tip-toeing past his roommates’ rooms. 

In a massive sky-scraper with almost unlimited apartments, it did seem a bit strange that all nine Avengers were crammed into the same apartment. Of course, after a little thought, they had all come to the same conclusion; that Nick Fury was trying to speed up their mending process by forcing them together. And naturally, none of them were so desperate for their own space that they were willing to defy the man’s decision.

Clint was the second one to wake up. As one of the oldest Avengers without superpowers, Clint made it his ultimate goal to spend every waking minute either pampering himself, or working out. Considering the fact that it was around seven o’clock in the morning, pampering himself was definitely the first order of business. He gave Steve a tired ‘good morning’ then saw himself to the door. Steve glanced at the clock, knowing that Clint would be back in exactly seventeen minutes looking wide-awake with a Starbucks cup in his hand and enough lemon bread to go around. 

Next up was Bruce. Suprisingly (or maybe not, to some) he was the second biggest flight risk in Avengers’ tower. While he hadn't been surprised about the ‘'civil war’ he was happy to have missed out so that he didn't have to pick sides. However, when Nick Fury tracked him down and dragged him back to the Tower, he had been less than thrilled. After the fiasco in Wakanda when the Scarlett Witch had unleashed the Hulk, Bruce had decided that he was an everlasting danger to society. Which, of course, led him to believe that isolating himself somewhere far away from civilization was the best plan. Eventually, though, Tony made a good enough argument; something about needing a lab-buddy, aka someone on the same intelligence level. 

Bruce nodded groggily at Steve, pouring himself a cup of coffee and heading straight for the TV. This was his routine every morning and Steve knew that he wouldn't be fully awake for at least another hour or two. He was fine with that, though, since both of them liked the Food Network channel. At least he didn't have to put up with hours of Clint’s monster truck shows. 

Natasha suddenly appeared from their private elevator that led to the basement. The basement was mostly abandoned, so she had set up her own workout space where she retreated when the boys were driving her crazy. Technically speaking, the hidden elevator was only supposed to be used in emergencies when the Avengers had to get out of the building quickly or without being seen. However, she seemed to have taken it as an invitation to hide out someplace where no one else really went. 

Both Steve and Bruce looked up, taking in her sweaty workout clothes. “"Good morning.” “"You've been busy.” They said at the same time. She smirked. “"And you haven't.” She replied, mostly ignoring Steve’s greeting. She wasn't mad at him about choosing Bucky. She wasn't even mad that he had refused to sign the accords. Unfortunately whatever awkward chemistry she had with Bruce just over-rode everyone else. Without waiting for Bruce to think of an appropriate response, she headed to her room to shower. 

Wanda passed her in the hallway and they gave each other warm greetings. Apparently being the only two girls in an apartment full of men had made them closer than expected. Wanda went into the kitchen, smiling slightly when she saw the waiting coffee. She filled a mug and then curled up in one of the armchairs. She frowned at Bruce’s choice of channels, but she quietly sipped her coffee instead of saying anything. Wanda hadn’t changed much since the ‘civil war.’ She was still a bit of an outsider, a bit lost, and her thing with Vision was making everyone (especially Tony) a little uncomfortable. Everyone knew that she would eventually find her place, but they also knew that she would have to find it herself. They all tried to be as open as possible, but she still felt outcast. 

Just then, Vision floated through the TV, instantly putting a smile on Wanda’s face. “"Are you quite well?” He asked her, still floating in front of the television. Steve just smiled and waited patiently, while Bruce leaned haphazardly over the arm of the couch in an effort to keep watching. “"I'm fine, thank you, Vision. How are you?” Wanda asked, standing up and taking his hand to guide him out of Bruce’s way. “"My apologies, Mister Banner. I am quite well, thank you, Wanda.” He said, giving her his best attempt at a smile. Tony walked in just then, sighing and rolling his eyes dramatically. “"Would you two idiots cut it out or kiss already?” He said loudly, inevitably drawing everyone’s attention to himself. Wanda blushed instantly, although she was saved from complete embarrassment by Vision’s confusion. Honestly, the sexual tension between Vision and Wanda was painfully obvious to everyone except the couple themselves. “I'm sorry, I'm not entirely sure what you are saying, Mister Stark.” Vision said, drawing another exasperated sigh from Tony. After a moment, the latter decided to retreat to the kitchen. 

Tony had been.....different since the ‘war.’ He seemed a little angry all the time, his ‘teasing’ remarks just a bit more hurtful, and he never quite looked Steve in the eye. That doesn't mean he hated anyone or really held a grudge against anyone who opposed him at the airport battle. He just tended to bottle up any emotion that wasn't anger or frustration.

The last bedroom door opened and closed, spreading an awkward silence over the entire apartment. The cause of the tension was a six-foot-tall supersoldier with a metal arm and long brown hair. Steve and Wanda were the only ones who managed a smile. Bruce didn't bother to look up, Vision just sort of stared at him, and Tony was making as much noise in the kitchen as possible. Bucky clenched his jaw, tempted to retreat back to his room. Unfortunately for him, his escape plan was shattered when the hallway was blocked by Natasha. “"It's about damn time you woke up.” She said, giving him a devilish grin. He just stared at her blankly until she slipped past him with a shrug. “"Move over.” She told Steve, smacking his arm. He smiled and shifted obligingly. While he didn't appreciate her rough treatment of Bucky, she was also the only one who treated him like he wasn't a complete freak.

The front door opened and a much Perrier Clint walked in with several bags of lemon bread. “"Hey, the Ice-boy is up!” He said, handing Bucky two of the bags. This time Bucky managed a weak smile. Clint also treated Bucky like he was a perecctly average person. Which wasn't always ideal. Clint smacked Bucky’s arm with a grin as he passed him, making the metal armed man flinch slightly. After the lemon bread was passed out, everyone sat in their designated spots and the tv remote was handed over to Natasha. It was pretty much a known fact that Natasha was the only one who could pick a show that everyone liked. “"Oh look. Friends.” She said, smirking at Clint. He snorted, seemingly the only one who understood the irony. “"Friends? Is that a secret passcode?” Vision asked from where he was hovering behind Wanda’s chair. “"It's a tv show. Put it on, Nat.” Clint said, grabbing his Starbucks cup from the coffee table. She smirked and selected it, rolling her eyes as the theme song played. “This should be interesting. How do the world’s greatest heroes response to a soap opera.” Tony quipped, settling in to his recliner. “It’s not a soap opera.” Natasha objected, slinging her leg over Clint’s shoulder where he sat on the floor at her feet.

“We have soap operas on Asgard!” Thor bellowed triumphantly, practically smashing through the frontier door. Everyone jumped, then did their variations of rolling their eyes. “"I'm pretty sure it's not the same thing here, buddy.” Clint said, watching the disappointment cloud Thor’s face. “"Come watch with us.” Wanda said, smiling gently. Thor pulled a chair over and got comfortable, taking the lemon bread that Clint offered. 

“"Well, well, well. The group is finally having some bonding time and I have to break it up.” Nick Fury said, doing his usual grand entrance. “"I've got a mission for you.”

[samanthasroberts]

‘I know their vital stats, their romantic histories’: how Sunderland AFC saved me

For this Chinese Jewish Texan, England was a difficult place to feel at home. But all that changed when she discovered football

Thats shite, man! the man behind screams. The discontent in the crowd is reaching a critical mass. Useless twats, snarls a father below, opening a packet of crisps for his nine-year-old son.

I stand frozen, wrapped up in a scarf and down jacket. Who are we yelling at? Why are we so angry?

Its Boxing Day 2012 and Im at the Stadium of Light in Sunderland for my first ever football match. Its freezing cold; it begins to rain. And then it happens. A Sunderland player fires a shot that creeps past the Manchester City goalkeeper and into the bottom corner of the net. The stadium thunders as a sea of 46,000 bodies fall over each other, total strangers hugging their neighbours, while simultaneously jumping up and down. The man next to me screams so loudly in my ear that Im momentarily deaf. Then he turns me towards him, grabs my shoulders, locks eyes with me and shakes my body. Ahhhhhhhhhh! he screams, in happiness and disbelief.

Ahhhhhhh! I scream back, in fear.

***

When I moved to London, I got a job as a junior editor on a luxury lifestyle website. The site was run by a flamboyant man from Croydon named Carlos, with coiffed salt and pepper hair. Never one to pass up an opportunity to show off, Carlos liked to introduce me to visiting VIPs as our New Yorker who speaks fluent Mandarin and went to Harvard.

None of these things was true. I grew up in a small town in Texas: Amarillo. For some reason, Carlos didnt think this as impressive as being from New York (despite Amarillo being the helium capital of the world and the home of Tony Christies sweet Marie). As for fluent in Mandarin, my dad is Chinese, but I speak only broken Mandarin after living and working in Beijing for a few years. I didnt go to Harvard I was rejected but I did go to a university an hour away. None of these things made sense to Carlos, so he went with his own version.

My exchanges with Carlos were stilted. Our interactions ended in awkward silences. He was twice my age and we had nothing in common. But he was well known in London media circles and I was desperate to get him on side.

After Beijing, I assumed it would be a breeze to assimilate in a country where I no longer faced a language barrier. In China, I had spent a good amount of time miming my interactions. I also had to get used to Beijing locals asking me how much money I made, or telling me I was looking fatter than usual. But it was a bluntness I came to embrace: at least I knew where I stood.

Not so in London. The city was so rife with passive aggression that I didnt know when people were being rude or kind. A woman thanked me on the train for moving my bag and I was almost certain what she was really saying was too fucking right. A man squeezed by me on the escalator and the pitch of his seemingly polite May I? was so snide, it nearly brought me to tears. Carlos asked me if I want to do something for him at work and I wasnt sure if it was an order, a helpful suggestion or sarcasm. The words themselves were unfailingly polite, but it was all in the tone. Other Americans I knew suffered the same way. I genuinely dont know if my colleagues are making fun of me or being nice, a friend from Chicago confessed one night over drinks.

London can be a tough city for newcomers to crack. Compared with the US, people prefer to keep to themselves, especially in public. Im shy, so this was wonderful at first. No one approaches you to chat. I once fell in a crowded street in broad daylight and began the, Im fine, Im fine, honestly protest. But no one had stopped. I lay on the ground, impressed with peoples dedication to not getting involved with strangers. I began to think that I might never find a way to break through the famous British reserve. Would I ever find common ground with Carlos? If only there was some magic key.

And then one day, I witnessed a man bite another man on live TV. This happened during a football match that was on in a pub I happened to be in. I was immediately intrigued: by the biting, the drama, the getting caught, the primal emotion of the incident. I didnt realise it at the time, but this was it: my in.

On a bus, I sat with a couple of friends who were discussing live scores; soon, the entire upper deck had joined the conversation. It was like a portal to another dimension in which everyone was chatty, friendly and open on public transport.

Football was everywhere, it turned out. Once I noticed this, I began to absorb football facts, though only certain things stuck. I loved it when footballers cried. Maybe it was the persistent myth of the stiff upper lip but seeing a player moved to tears, to me, showed he cared more than anyone else. It wasnt like watching an actor pretend to tear up. This shit was real.

I loved any sort of drama on and off the pitch. Family tensions, love problems, scandals, shoving matches; before long, I became a reliable source of useless, soap opera-esque information about players.

I also became a fervent Sunderland supporter. Why would a Chinese girl from Texas living in Highbury, north London, become a Sunderland supporter? Because I had married one. Ian, born and bred in Sunderland, talked about his teams players as if they were his family. That made them my family, too. I knew their names, their shirt numbers, their vital stats, their romantic histories. I was also a natural fit for Sunderland because I love an underdog and by God, I had chosen the underdog of underdogs. The big clubs, with their expensive superstars, were boring to me. Our wins were rare, but they were so much sweeter for it.

I watched televised matches, sometimes without Ian if he was busy or out of town, something that had my friends and family baffled. During visits home to Texas, Ian and I zealously woke early to catch the Sunderland game. My father would observe me, puzzled. My mother, who is Jewish, was also bewildered but said, Well, you were the most athletic of our family of klutzes. It was my childhood best friend Jori who called me out. We were in a Waffle House diner surrounded by grassy plains. I asked Ian if he knew how Sunderlands relegation rivals had fared in their six-pointer, when she interrupted me. Are you talking about British soccer? Who are you? I told her the truth: Im just a girl, standing in front of the TV, hoping a footballer scores a winning goal in the last minute of a high-stakes match and then weeps about it.

A young fan lets rip as Sunderland take on Man United. Photograph: Getty

Do you know who really liked football? Carlos. We soon developed a rapport. Every Monday, hed rush to my desk and wed discuss the weekends matches. He was obsessed with playing style, formations and league tables. Meanwhile, I was the expert on the fights, the crying and the hissy fits. Suddenly, we were friends. He wasnt just my scary boss who got annoyed that I didnt know who Lynyrd Skynyrd were. We were bonding.

They say that to assimilate in a foreign country, you have to speak the language, and now I finally did. Did I make friends from learning about football? I would go out on a limb and say that yes, I did. I made friends with Dave at the Three store when I sat there for two hours after accidentally flushing my phone down the toilet. I bonded with a Ghanaian driver as we discussed a former Sunderland player from his country. In a hotel in the Lake District, there was a communication breakdown with a concierge that ended happily when we both agreed that Diego Costa was a jerk and Jermain Defoe a great goal scorer. When cab rides were too silent, no problem. Lets talk about the match, driver.

***

Dinner in the north-east of England is different from dinner in Texas. Here the food is cooked well-done, the weather is colder and greyer, the company more polite, the table quieter.

Ians dad, brother and uncles are lifelong Sunderland season ticket holders. Ask them a question about what they want to eat, or their favourite movie, or their preference for boxers or briefs, and they will reply, Im easy. Suggest that Jack Rodwell is a decent footballer and they are unleashed animated, passionate, opinionated. I enjoy bantering with Ians brother and dad about football, but we argue a lot mostly because there is one thing I havent been able to wrap my head around since my first game.

After that first Boxing Day match, on the walk from the Stadium of Light to the car with Ian, his dad, his uncle and his brother, I ask the question thats on my mind.

Why do we yell mean things at our own players?

Silence. And then: They just didnt show up. For most of the match, they were bloody awful, Ian says. Good use of we, though, he adds.

But shouldnt we be supporting them? Encouraging them?

Ian shakes his head and sighs.

You know, like being positive and lifting them up? I was still trying to make sense of why 46,000 people would call themselves supporters when they gave the most vitriolic, abusive commentary on their own players. Their support was downright terrifying.

This was your first match, Jess. Weve suffered years of pain while watching players go through the motions. Ive been enduring this for 25 years, Ian says. Twenty-six years, Ians older brother says. His dad: Try 60 years. And finally, I understand the British subtext: You are a wide-eyed idiot.

You got me into this: Jess with her husband, Ian. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

At my high school in Texas, there was a club called Senior Spirits. Senior Spirit members met to boost the egos of our sports teams and rally other students to support those teams. To quote from the yearbook, their mission was to make posters and give our school spirit. In the photo, a group of 20 girls wearing matching T-shirts and ponytails, grin at the camera, 100% heartfelt.

These werent cheerleaders. And they werent affiliated with the Steppers, the ultra-serious dancers who performed at pep rallies, the hour-long ceremonies dedicated to whipping up school spirit. Nor were they the student marching band that played during football matches to help stoke, yes, even more team spirit. Team spirit was like an elusive ghost permeating the school and we all had to worship it.

That spirit was partial to posters with marker pen and glitter, to ponytails, to cakes shaped like American footballs and prayers before the big game. It revelled in exclamation marks. It did not like folded arms and booing and sarcasm. It did not like being called a useless twat.

Apparently team spirit isnt a thing in north-east England. So how do English secondary schools pump up their sports teams? I imagine the halls of these schools are lined with posters of a different sort: You better not screw this up, Jones! and Dont do any of that long-ball shit, Gibbons.

I still struggle with this complete inversion, but it unlocked something core in the English mentality how ingrained the cynicism is, as well as the tendency to proceed from a position of cautious defeat. Expect to lose so it hurts less when it happens, and if we win, no harm done.

Diehard football fans remain sceptical of me. At matches, I ask questions. I get looks when I yell cheerful encouragement. I cant stop shouting, At least you tried! every time a player takes a shot but fails to score. Some have the gall to question my passion for football until I do well at the pub quiz football round. If you love something, does it matter if you love it for all the wrong reasons? Apparently, to them, yes. But one thing was for sure: I was emotionally committed.

In May 2016, at the end of that years season, Sunderland were on the brink of doom, as we are every year. Hundreds of fans gathered at the Old Red Lion in Angel, north London, for one of the last matches of the season. I am 5ft 2in, so I left Ian and his friends and waded through Mackems to get to a good vantage point to watch the match. We were playing Everton, and this would seal everything: would we stay up and relegate bitter rivals Newcastle in the process?

Awaydays at the Drayton Park pub in north London, before taking on Arsenal at the Emirates. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

The first time we scored, someones pint of beer, spilt in jubilant joy and shock, doused my head. On the second goal, the shouts were deafening. On the third, a man threw his arms around me and together we jumped up and down and screamed with pure joy. I left the pub dazed, half-deaf, hair soaked in booze and my face aching from smiling.

I became a UK citizen last year. At a city town hall, I swore my allegiance to the Queen and stumbled through the national anthem with 17 other newly minted UK citizens. But that moment didnt come close to the buoyant feeling of pure joy and belonging I felt in the arms of a stranger as we celebrated the victory of our beloved team. If the root of football passion is said to be a sense of family and place, then this Chinese Jewish Texan has found her new home.

Unfortunately, that home is sometimes a den of pain and despair. By the time you read this, we will have played three Championship matches in the new season. Ian assures me we will not have won one: Sunderland havent won a league game in August or September for four years in a row.

In April this year, we were finally relegated from the Premier League with four matches left to play.

Useless losers! I yell at the players as Sunderland fail to score even one goal. Its all over. Nothing to hope for now, no Match Of The Day to look forward to.

As I shout at the players, Ian pats me hard on the back. Well done, he says. I look at him, confused. Now you know what it feels like to hate your own team.

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Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/