#girl i nearly defined myself out of existence last week whatever i have going on is Much more sinister. ok 👍

[trainingdummyrabbit]

ok but nothing really reminds you youre neurodivergent like being alone w your parent(s)

[sunshineseung]

Journal Part 2 // Jeongin

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 3.2k 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!virgin!jeongin, solo masturbation (m), “mommy/ma’am”, other pet names, more smut within smut [spanking, punishment], breast play, begging, agreement of safe word, unprotected PIV, choking, creampie, male overstimulation, a lil bit more but that’s the main stuff

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

The dim light of the desk lamp was all that lit the room as Jeongin desperately jotted his thoughts down into his journal. It was very late at night, almost sunrise, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. As he was writing, he was completely hard, and his hand was lazily stroking his cock, not in an attempt to reach an orgasm, but rather just to relieve some of the pent up energy he had inside of himself. 

This journal will no longer have to be fantasy. Finally, after years of going after girls and failing miserably, I have a girl that wants me, but not just a girl, a woman. Ms. L/n, the woman this entire book is for, said she needs me, and she did get me like she wanted. Although I wasn’t thinking straight, I remember everything. Her defined hands worshipped my body while she teased me, and even with my underwear on, it was hard not whimpering and moaning as she gripped my cock like I’ve wanted her to for so long. When she went down on me, it felt like a dream. I almost pinched myself out of fear that it was all a dream, but when I looked down to see my release covering her chest, I knew it wasn’t. 

The kiss… Her lips were so pretty and soft. The way she kissed me made my heart burst, like my life was just starting to begin. As cheesy as that sounds, I can’t shake the feeling that my neighbor who I once only lusted for was becoming more than just the woman I think about when I’m needy. I want to be with her all the time, and not just for sex. It’s too early to say I’m in love, of course, but despite her being over ten years older than me, would it be crazy of me to say that I like her?

Jeongin shut the journal, putting it in his bookbag for tomorrow. Looking back out of his bedroom window, the light behind your curtains was off, signaling it was way too late for him to be up. He slept good that night knowing all of his wildest and dirtiest dreams were about to come true, or at least a few of them.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

School was always a drag, but only having one class on Friday’s was a gift from God for Jeongin. All he had to do was get through an hour and a half of class, then he could go to your house. Through text, you told him to be prepared to stay late, possibly overnight, and being the overly excited (and horny) teenage boy that Jeongin is, he couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild. Late night sex, morning sex, shower sex, the things he wanted to do with you were endless. Still, he also wanted to hold your hand, as weird as that sounded.

Putting his feelings aside, he joined his last class of the week and scrolled through his phone as his teacher blabbed on about who-knows-what. He needed something to distract him from the massive distraction that was your entire existence. 

He dashed out of his house right when class ended, showing up to your house earlier than usual only by a few minutes. You thanked him for watching your kids and left, and the casualness of your mannerisms alarmed Jeongin. You’re all he’s been thinking about for the past day, so how were you so calm and collected as if you weren’t wearing the same shirt that had his cum on it, albeit washed and dried right after the fact.

Your kids certainly help Jeongin get his mind off of you when they immediately ask him to play once you leave. After going through every jigsaw puzzle and playing with every Barbie doll, he finally put them to bed, giving him over an hour before you get home from work to write whatever he wants in his journal. He just has to avoid falling asleep this time. 

“Please hit me harder ma’am,” I whine as she has me bent over her lap. I deserve this, and even more so, I want this. I want Ms. L/n to spank my ass as hard as she can while I writhe in her lap with my hard cock rubbing against her leg. “I’ve been a bad boy, haven’t I?” The marks she leaves on my ass burn in the best way. Feeling her nails dig into my skin when she grabs the flesh that she’s made bright red, I cry out of pleasure and pain. What’s so rewarding about being punished, and why does it make my cock twitch with excitement when you treat me like shit?

Subconsciously, Jeongin’s free hand has moved to the tent in his pants, rubbing over the fabric of his jeans for the slightest bit of stimulation. Feeling himself, he puts the journal to the side after writing nearly two pages of disgusting fantasies. Despite having a nice, wholesome time with your two daughters under an hour ago, his mind, as usual, wonders to the thought of you pleasuring him and yourself as much as you want. To Jeongin, he’s your babysitter but also your toy that will happily let you use him however you wish, basically making him your slave. 

Getting home a few minutes early, you walk into your house to see the living room empty, although you were expecting your babysitter to be on the couch. Opening the door to your kids’ room, they’re sound asleep with no sign of him. Your head spins when you hear muffled groans coming from your bedroom. Being only mildly pissed, you storm into your room to see none other Yang Jeongin curled into your comforter, jerking off while his head is buried into your pillow.

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” Jeongin feels the edge of the bed dip as you sit on the edge, but he doesn’t stop. Actually, he speeds up, moaning louder now that you’ve closed the door. He’s still partially dressed with his cute little ass hanging out of the back of his pulled down jeans. “Aw, is my pretty boy about to cum? Who are you thinking about, hm?” 

“Y-you.” Jeongin sighs loudly, feeling himself get closer to his climax just by you mentioning it. “I was thinking about you, only you, ma’am.” His whines of this new name make your face flush. You reach out for his thigh, turning him so he’s laying on his back. He flops into position like a ragdoll, but his hand remains pumping his cock. Just by feeling your hands on him, he cums all over his wrinkled tee shirt. Embarrassed he came so fast, he apologizes, but you know very well he isn’t really done yet.

“Don’t be sorry, baby. You’re so young, and I’m sure you can go another round.”

You pull his pants and underwear down his legs, making him gasp from the sudden exposure despite you seeing it all before. “Now sit up and take that shirt off.”

Fully obedient, he stands off the bed and strips until he’s totally naked, face red as he awkwardly holds his hands to his sides. You sit in front of him, running your hands down his arms until you grab his hips and bring him closer until his cock is right at your chest. Although he’s still a little soft, you’re sure he’ll get hard in no time.

“Undress me, Jeongin.” His eyes go wide as he looks your figure up and down, scared of what he’s about to see, and even more scared of what he’s about to do. With a dramatic gulp, he unbuttons the familiar work shirt you were wearing, exposing your bra. He slowly leans down, carefully not to faceplant into your chest, unbuttoning your top entirely before you shake it off of your shoulders, the article of clothing falling behind you on the bed. “I’m guessing you don’t know how to unhook a bra?”

“N-no. I’m sorry.” Jeongin moves back and covers his face with his hands as you reach behind you and easily unhook your bra for him, dropping it onto your thighs and tossing it somewhere on the floor. When he removes his hands from his face, his jaw hangs open. He can’t take his eyes off of your tits, which are much nicer than he could ever imagine. “May I touch them, mommy?”

“Of course, baby.” You take his wrist in your hand and pull his right hand to your left breast, basically forcing him to squeeze it between his fingers, not that he minded. Seeing him so flustered and confused only made you more turned on. He was so innocent, yet the things he wrote in his journal were so vulgar. You could hardly believe that the words in that cursed book came from the boy that didn’t know how to unhook a bra. “Put your mouth to the nipple.” 

“Huh?”

“Don’t act so naïve, Jeongin. I know you’ve thought about this before.” He finally looks up to you out of shock. “So shy? Now? But when you write in that book of yours, you’re not shy, are you?” 

“No ma’am. I’m sorry.” 

Stopping his hand, you pull him down to his knees by his wrist. He’s eye-level with your stomach, but he quickly raises himself up to connect his lips with one of your nipples. You moan shortly as your hand tangles in his hair, pulling him closer into your chest. Even after breastfeeding your two kids, your nipples were sensitive as ever. 

“Good boy.” You stare down at him as he’s focused, swirling his tongue around your bud. When he finally looks up to you, your head is thrown back from the mild pleasure Jeongin’s shooting through your nerves. 

He’s starting to feel bold. Jeongin moves from one nipple to the other, massaging your other spit-coated breast with his hand. His fingers rub your nipple, twisting it just enough for it to all feel good. Your moans become more frequent, and being able to hear you groan for him is all he’s ever wanted. 

“Mommy, can I fuck your tits?” You’re the one that’s shocked this time. He pulls back, his hand becoming still on your other breast. “I want to fuck your tits so bad, please?” 

“Whoa there, baby boy. Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” You laugh at his eagerness, pulling him by his hair to stand up. Just seeing how hard he’s gotten by sucking on your tits is enough to make you almost laugh again, but you wouldn’t want to be too mean to the poor boy. 

Moving back on the bed, you lay down and spread your legs. His eyes immediately direct towards your heat, still covered by your work pants. When you gesture towards the obstacle, he lets out a tiny “oh” before pulling your pants down, leaving you in your sopping panties. 

He hooks his index fingers on the hips of your panties, gently pulling them down your legs before dropping them to the floor with your panties. Again, this is greater than anything he could have imagined. 

“C’mere, my little prince.” You take his hands in yours, dragging him to sit on your thighs while you lay under him. You don’t let go of his hands, and he really doesn’t want you to. Your pet names for him always make him blush, but this one in particular made his heart beat even faster than before. “Have you written anything about me since yesterday?”

Jeongin’s mind becomes clouded by all of the things he’s written in the past 24 hours. Every scenario and confession fills his head, and it takes him a few moments to answer before he comes back to reality to answer you. “Y-yes mommy.”

“What did you write?”

Pause. “S-spank me?” Jeongin’s voice is only a light whisper. 

“What was that?” You lean up a little, holding your hand behind your ear to tease him. “You have to speak up, Jeonginnie.”

“I wrote about you spanking me.” His voice returns to him, now fully speaking from his chest. “Punishing me, treating me like a doll.”

“Oh my God, baby. That’s so perverted.” You rub his thighs up and down as you stare at his cock, now twitching with your every word. “You want to be my little doll? Let me do whatever I want to you?” 

“Y-yes!” His overexcited nature makes you giggle as you feel around his pelvis, hands getting dangerously close to his dick. “Can I be mommy’s little toy? I’ll be good, I promise!”

“But don’t you want me to punish you too?” You bite your lip as you look up at him. He’s looking off into the distance, imagining all of the nasty things he wants you to do to him. “Spank you, degrade you, deprive you?” 

“Can’t I have both?” His retort is quick. You didn’t know he could answer you so soon since he was clearly dipping into subspace, although he didn’t even know he did that. “Be your good boy and make you punish me?”

“Wow, so dirty~ We’ll need a safe word, alright?” He nods in understanding, watching you as you try to come up with a word that you could both comfortably say. “How about ‘mango’? Would that be good for you?”

“Mango is good, yeah.” You feel around the base of his cock, watching precum drip from his tip as he groans.

“What do you want to do right now, baby boy?”

“Oh,” he ponders for a second, “p-please fuck me.” 

“Ah, I love it when you beg.” You roughly push him over, his body falling onto the bed right where he was jerking off not too long ago. Climbing over him, you line his member up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds. He whimpers under you, biting the side of his hand to hold back any unwanted sounds he might let out. “Are you ready?”

“Y-yes, mommy! Please let me feel you.” The hand he isn’t biting down on goes to one of his nipples, feeling his chest like he just did to you. You slowly lower onto him, watching his facial expressions rapidly change as he gets used to feeling your cunt around him. He isn’t the biggest, but he still manages to fill you up and make you feel just right. 

Once you’re fully lowered onto him, he grabs your hips and holds you, whining your name over and over again. You can tell he’s trying to get something out, but his brain is too blank to form a sentence. Adjusting yourself on his cock, he groans with a high-pitched whine following shortly after.

“Wait, w-what if I cum inside you?” You look down at him, smiling at his cuteness. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last too long.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, baby.” You lean over and kiss his forehead, holding his face in your palms. “No matter what, I’m not stopping until I cum, got it?”

“Y-yes, ah~ Y/n!” Leaning back from his face, you raise up on him while he is mid-sentence, making him moan out for you. When you start to ride him, his sounds just can’t stop. Fearful that he’ll wake your children, you lean forward again and cover his mouth with your hand, still allowing him to breath through his nose. Ignoring your hand, he continues to cry and wail, feeling like he was on cloud nine just from you riding him. 

“You have such a nice cock, Jeonginnie. It’s even better inside me, though.” Your mind starts to fog, ignoring the younger boy’s needs to chase your own high. While one of your hands covers his mouth, your other hand wraps around his neck, choking him just enough to make him sob from the thrill. A few tears rolled down his cheeks, and without being able to warn you, he reached his climax and shot his load inside you, but you didn't stop.

Cum leaks out of your hole as your movements become quicker and rougher. The hand that covered his mouth has now joined your other hand around his neck, choking him as he sobs from the overstimulation, yet the predetermined safe word isn’t even crossing his mind. He loves everything you’re doing to him more than he could ever describe with words.

Your thumb runs across his bottom hip and he opens his mouth, light sobs leaving his throat. Ducking down towards his face, you kiss him with full tongue, something he’s never experienced before. Still, he quickly learned the movements and kissed you back, loving the feeling of your mouth against his. 

Pulling away, you stare down into his eyes. You looked beyond beautiful to him, and the entire visual of your half-lidded eyes, gaping mouth, bouncing tits, and dripping cunt making his cock disappear over and over again, he couldn’t help but get hard again.

“Cum for me, please mommy?” He pouts, giving you the glimmering eyes that always make you shudder. His hand hesitantly makes his way down to your clit, circling it with one finger while you ride his cock. You’re not entirely sure how he knows where the clitoris is, but it feels so good that you don’t even care. 

Mewling with your entire throat, your cunt tightens around Jeongin’s cock as you ride out your high, shallowing your movements. The sight of you cumming from him makes him moan right with you, nearly cumming inside you again. AS you come down from your orgasm, you slowly pull yourself off of him, his cock dropping against his abdomen, covering in the combined juices of you two. Catching your breath, you lay next to Jeongin, secretly hoping he’ll turn to his side so you can spoon him for a minute. 

“I can stay, right?” Jeongin turns to you while you lay on your side, looking to you for any sign of discontent. You nod as you stand up to go to the bathroom and clean up. “Oh, where are you going?”

“I can’t sleep like this.” You laugh as you gesture to your pussy, clearly in no shape to sit overnight. “I’ll be right back out.”

You disappear into the bathroom, ready to take care of the mess between your legs. Jeongin grabs a tissue and wipes himself clean of any release left on himself before laying back down and going on his phone, seeing a plethora of text message notifications from his friends’ group chat. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to check them right now. He just wants to bliss out, joyfully going through the entire night over again in his mind, cementing every action and event in his memory. 

Walking back from the bathroom, you toss yourself onto the bed and lay next to Jeongin, asking him politely to turn over so you can be the big spoon. With your chest pressed against his back, he puts his phone down and falls asleep.

Suddenly, your phone rings, and you quickly reach over to answer the call without seeing who it was. Unfortunately, it was your ex husband's voice coming from the other end, and you wish you had turned your ringer off. Jeongin was asleep, just like your kids, but as you rubbed your eyes from tiredness, you couldn’t help but regret answering the call.

“Y/n, are you fucking one of my students?”

Shit.

[sweet-barnes]

Survivor - CEO!Bucky

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: Bucky’s cocky attitude gets him into a situation that he’s not happy with.

A/N: so this is for @kitkatd7​ 250 follower writing challenge! i really hope you enjoy this!

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, his work shoes tapping against the marble floor of your lavish home as he walked closer. As he rounded the corner, you came into view. The black jumpsuit you were wearing hugged you in all the right places, showing off your curves in a way that drove Bucky crazy. He had to contain himself from pinning you to the counter right then and there.  

Your matching black blazer hung on the back of the stool, the one that Bucky had tailored for you with a floral lining inside. The lining is always the most important part, you remembered him saying to you as he slipped it onto your body. Now you wore it whenever you could, it was your favourite.

“How’s my best girl this morning?” Bucky’s hands slowly encircled your waist and he settled his chin on your shoulder. His cologne filled your nose and you couldn’t help but lean back into him. “I’m good, Barnes,” you responded, trying not to let him know just how much he affected you. Bucky placed a languid kiss on your neck, lingering there for a second before pulling away and making his way over to the coffee machine. 

You composed yourself quickly. You looked over at him, taking in his perfection as he stood pouring his coffee. The grey, subtle tartan suit he was wearing with the matching waist coat sent your mind reeling over how good he looked, his broad shoulders and his thighs were defined perfectly by the pattern.

“Like what you see?” You didn’t realise he was looking at you and your eyes flickered up to meet his icy blue ones staring back at you, a glint of cockiness in them and a smirk plastered onto his face. “You wish, James,” you tried but it was no use, you’d already been caught. 

“If you want me now doll, all you have to do is ask,” he sauntered over to you and rested his elbows on the breakfast bar opposite you. “Okay babe, keep it in your pants, you have work today,” you rolled your eyes but you couldn’t keep the heat rising to your face and the small giggle that left your mouth. As much as you loved the man in front of you, sometimes you wished it was easier to hide the effect he had on you.

“Aw, she’s blushing, she must really want it,” he kept teasing, his grin spreading. You huffed, looking down at your nearly empty bowl of cereal. “I can make you feel better, if that’s what you need?” Bucky’s voice was soft but you knew he was still messing with you. 

You looked up at him, putting on a sickly sweet smile. “I can make myself feel better, thank you very much.” You hopped down from the stool and made your way around to the sink, rinsing out your bowl and placing it on the drying rack. 

You felt the familiar strong arms make their way around your waist again, with Bucky’s large frame pressing up against your back. “I love you,” he whispered and tingles shot down your spine at the words. You repeated the words back to him before turning in his arms, snaking yours around his neck and leaning in for a kiss.

“You need to get to work hun,” Bucky said before your lips could touch. You eyebrows furrowed, “no I don’t, it’s my day off,” you were searching his eyes to see if he was playing with you but you couldn’t find any hint of it. 

“You agreed to some overtime the other day but you didn’t write it down, I wrote it in my diary for you because I knew you would forget,” he chuckled a little as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll take you in.” 

Before you knew it, Bucky was gathering your blazer and your work bag from near the door, handing them over to you. “Are you sure? I definitely would have written it down,” you still weren’t completely believing Bucky. 

You were always so organised with work, especially working in Bucky’s office. You just tried to make life easier for yourself as you contended with the jealous girls that worked there (everyone knew about your relationship and it hadn’t gone down well with the girls who always flirted with him).

“I’m sure, trust me, I am your boss after all,” Bucky grabbed his car keys and turned back to you, already knowing he was in trouble by the look on your face. 

“What?” He blinked, not knowing what he had done wrong. “You don’t have to bring that up every time you know, it’s not an excuse for everything.” Bucky was now clicking on to what you were talking about. He would always joke about being your boss, and you would always respond the same way, with an eye roll and scoff, followed by that shy smile that he loved.

Ever since the day you met there was constant banter and sarcasm between the two of you. Both of you flashing your cocky attitude at each other at every opportunity and nothing had changed in the year and a half you had been together. Bucky adored that you were just as headstrong as him, he loved that you always had a comeback to whatever he said and that you never took him too seriously whenever he would throw one of his comments your way. He didn’t think it would be any different this time.

“I know,” he chuckled, smirking at you again, “it’s just,” he paused. “Would you even be able to survive without me?” You felt your jaw set into place at his words, not wanting to flip instantly at what he said. When you didn’t reply, he carried on, only making the situation worse for himself. 

“Just like, you have your job because of me, which means those pay rises you always get are my doing, you’re always forgetting things, you’d be overly stressed if it wasn’t for me making sure you’re doing good all of the time, the list goes on Y/N.” You heard the smile in his voice but you couldn’t see passed his words.

At this point you could feel your blood boiling, “so you think I’m nothing without you?” You challenged, your eyes narrowing at Bucky. He didn’t catch onto the seriousness in your voice however, only chuckling and leaning against the counter with his arm. “Yeah babe, I make you 100 times better, through and through.” 

That was the last thread broken. You sucked your tongue against your teeth before nodding, walking straight to the door, picking your own car keys out of the bowl in the hallway.

“Where are you going?” You heard Bucky’s call after you. You rolled your eyes, walking out of the door and nearly slamming it in his face but he was too quick and caught it as it came flying towards him. “Woah babe, what’s gotten into you?” 

As you reached your car you whirled around to face him, making him stop abruptly in front of you. “I’m going to show you that I don’t need you, seen as though you think my life is completely dependent on you.”

It was now that Bucky saw the tears brimming your eyes. You were always so strong, always so put together and level-headed, it was very rare that he saw you crying. He knew however, that when you did cry, it was very serious.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it, I promise,” he tried to redeem himself but you were already climbing into your car, throwing your bag and blazer onto the passenger seat. You managed to close the door despite his attempts to keep it open with your last words lingering as you sped out of the driveway. “Too late, Barnes.”

--

When Bucky arrived at work that day he made his way straight to your office. It was on the floor below his, his office took up the whole of the top floor, but you were no where to be seen. He looked in the common room, around on the other floors and still came up with nothing. Eventually he resulted in asking at the front desk.

“She asked to take her holidays for this week, she said she’d call in when she’d be coming back and that you’d already authorised it,” the young girl explained to Bucky. He simply nodded before retreating back up to his office. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, lingering on your contact for a moment.

He knew sometimes he could be a bit too cocky but he never thought you’d react like this. You’d never had a problem with anything he’d said before and he knew you’d make sure he never over-stepped his mark. But clearly he’d crossed some invisible line that he didn’t know existed.

It rang a few times before you picked up, much to Bucky’s surprise. “What do you want, Barnes?” He could sense the edge to your voice as you spoke, there wasn’t the usual softness that he enjoyed hearing whenever he called you throughout the day. “Why have you taken your holidays at work? I never authorised that,” he heard you huff down the line.

“I’m showing you that I can do this without you, I already said this, now please leave me to it.” The line went dead as you hung up on him, and Bucky sighed as he threw his phone on the desk. He knew he messed up big time.

--

“I can’t believe he said that, I knew he could be an idiot sometimes but I didn’t think he was that bad!” Natasha exclaimed as she led you into the back of her bar. It was still closed and no one else was in yet apart from her so it was the perfect place to rant to your best friend.

“He tried to say he was just joking but he must have meant some of it, he listed off a load of things so he’s clearly thought about it before,” you dropped yourself down into the large leather chair in Natasha’s office. “I’m not being that kind of girl.”

Natasha hummed in agreement, “I guess you could try talking to him? I know he’d be willing to listen to what you have to say.” You knew Natasha was making perfect sense and was being very logical about the whole situation but you weren’t in the mood for logical and practical. You needed to do something to physically prove you didn’t need Bucky.

He needed to see you being able to look after yourself and not relying on him as he seemed to think you did. “I’ll talk to him after he’s seen it,” with that, you shuffled yourself further down into the seat with Natasha shaking her head at you slightly.

The good thing about having a best friend who worked in a bar was that you got free drinks. Another perk was that you could get a job whenever you needed and that was exactly what you were going to do. Of course, it wasn’t official, but as long as Bucky could see you working somewhere that wasn’t owned by him, he would hopefully get the message. 

It was tradition for Bucky to have a couple of drinks every Friday night in Nat’s bar with you, so you were hoping he’d still come despite your little falling out. 

You’d managed to go shopping and grab some clothes that fit your new ‘job’ and finished getting ready in the back before your shift started. It was well into the evening now and Bucky had left a few missed calls. He eventually left a message saying he’d be at your table if you’d like to join him. You were glad you knew him like the back of your hand otherwise this idea of yours wouldn’t have worked out very well. He’d finally get to see you being your own person.

Bucky was still in his grey suit when you spotted him in the booth in the corner. The low lights hit his skin perfectly and you couldn’t help the lingering look you sent his way as you were cleaning the bar. 

“Are you going to go talk to him or just stare at him for the rest of the night?” Natasha’s voice behind you made you jump and you turned to face her. “I’ll go serve him, not talk to him,” you corrected, before pouring his preferred drink that you had committed to memory and slowly making your way over to him.

He didn’t even look up at you as you placed the drink in front of him. It was only when you sarcastically said “you’re welcome,” did his head shoot up to meet your gaze.

“Y/N?” His voice was breathy and you noticed the way his eyes moved across your body and the confusion settling into his features at your unusual attire. “What are you doing? Why are you wearing an apron?” He began rising up to stand in front of you.

You felt yourself being pulled towards him. Seeing him now was making you forget why you left in the first place. “I’m proving that I can provide for myself, that there’s more to me than you,” you were thankful that your voice stayed steady as you spoke but you didn’t think you could keep it up much longer with the way Bucky was looking at you.

“Babe, I didn’t mean any of those things that I said this morning, you don’t need to prove yourself to me,” he reached out towards you but decided against it before he made contact with your skin. He hands felt helpless by his sides but he had no idea what to do right now. 

He had felt lost without you all day and now that he had you in front of him, it was like all of his words had left his head completely. 

“I’m also proving myself to myself, James, there must have been some truth in what you said otherwise the words wouldn’t have been in your mind,” you took a deep breath before continuing. “I won’t be home for the next week, I’m doing this for me.” 

Before you could see the look on his face, you walked away and back behind the bar. Bucky was still lingering in the same place as you stood next to Natasha. His face lost as he looked around at everyone else. 

“Was that the right thing to do?” You were suddenly questioning yourself and you didn’t know what to think anymore. You were so strong about your decision before but after seeing Bucky you didn’t know if it was the right one.

“Hun, he needs to learn that you are your own person, like you said before, he can’t go around saying that stuff about you and not expect any consequences and he’s been saying it far too long to not have any, in my opinion,” you looked over at her and she just shrugged. “Look, I can change my mind okay, don’t look at me like that.” 

You simply laughed at her, before you were being called over by a customer. You glanced over at Bucky’s table and noticed the seat was empty where he had been. It was going to be a long week. 

--

Bucky never thought he would feel so alone in his own home. Sleeping in the king sized bed without you next to him was the worst thing he’d experienced. He’d reached out so many times in the night to feel the warmth and comfort of your body but all he came into contact with was more sheets.

He’d given up eating proper meals by day 2, not only did he not have the appetite, but cooking for one just wasn’t as fun as cooking for the love of his life. He so desperately wanted to call you, to work it all out and convince you to come home but he stopped himself.

He knew you were doing this for yourself and not just for him. He owed you that at the very least. You deserved to find your place in this world without him. The amount of times the conversation that had caused all of this played over in his head was impossible to count. Bucky had ran through so many different scenarios of how that could have ended and none of them ended up with you leaving like this. 

The only thing that kept him going was the fact that you had said you’d be gone for a week. It had been exactly a week since you said you needed to do this and Bucky had been counting down the days until your return, not that he would like to admit it.

He was laid on the unmade bed when he heard the front door open from downstairs. He waited a second before hearing your familiar footsteps making their way up the stairs. 

Bucky was sat on the edge of the bed closest to the door when you entered, a sports bag full of stuff on one of your arms and the blazer that Bucky had gifted you on your other. The sight of you was enough to make Bucky instantly feel at home and the smile you sent him as you saw him let him know that everything was alright.

“So,” his voice was quite as you set your bag on the floor. “How was your week away from home, survivor?” You could tell he was nervous by the way he was wringing his hands together but you giggled at his choice of words. 

“I survived without you, if that’s what you’re asking,” you joked, making your way over to stand in front of him but a sadness settled into his eyes at your comment. He took a breath before attempting to speak but you cut him off before he could.

“I know you’re going to apologise, and I don’t want you to, I know how you feel about the situation but I’m glad it happened,” Bucky frowned. “You are?” You nodded, giggling again before taking a seat next to him and reaching out for his hand. He quickly filled yours with his and squeezed a little at the familiar contact. He’d missed the feeling of your skin.

“I think we needed that, I now realise that I don’t need you as much as I thought I did, and as much as you thought I did, and I don’t mean that in a way that I want to get rid of you, I mean it in a way where we can grow from this experience,” Bucky just searched your face while you spoke. 

“I don’t need you but I want you, you know I’ll always want you Bucky, I just want to be more independent,” he was nodding his head now, he was pretty sure he understood where you were coming from. 

“So what does this mean for us? You still want to be with me?” You thought you’d made it clear for him but the week alone hadn’t done his thoughts any good. “Of course I do, Buck, I love you.”

You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on the corner of his mouth which he quickly reciprocated. “I just want to do more things for myself, I love doing them with you but there’s some things we need to do for ourselves.”

“I agree, I was doing some thinking too, after seeing you working in the bar with Nat, I was wondering if you wanted a bit of a change in your job, nothing major, just you’d be in charge of a department?” The smile on your face grew at Bucky’s words. He knew you’d been going after a different job within his company for a while now but there was never a fully open position. Luckily, someone had just left on your week off and Bucky thought it was the perfect opportunity for you to be more independent within your work.

“That would be amazing, Buck!” You all but squealed before enveloping him in your arms. “It’s not too much that I got you your job though is it?” Bucky tried to joke but you knew he was being serious. “Not at all, babe,” you pulled back. “I really appreciate it.”

A moment was shared between the two of you and you didn’t know whether it was because you had spent a week apart or because you just loved each other that much but you felt the connection between the two of you grow stronger, and you never wanted to leave him again.

[ash-clarington]

WHO: Ash & Dani ( @daniharperdominant​ ) WHEN: forever ago WHAT: rooftop p2- getting to know each other;  that was never posted?? WARNINGS: -

Eleven-thirty had rolled around too quickly. Ash got into bed at around nine and had been struggling to even begin to get sleepy, she had been thinking too much. Too much of wondering what was going on in the new semester at her departed school. It was hard to keep in contact with her friends there, the few she had. Everything there hurt too much. Before the submissive could get sucked into another twenty minute unsolved mystery video, Ash swiped away at youtube and pulled up her texts. She hesitated over Dani's name, considering the option. Dani was, nice but not in a sickly way that made Ash want to vomit. And she was a strong Dominant, or she at least pretended well. Ash didn't really doubt it though, their scene together had settled her for a while, for that week, and not once had she felt unsafe or unengaged. So she sent the text, waited for the order, and head to the roof in and oversized hoodie she had stolen from a friend. His name still sewn in on the tag with a big J as a reminder of him.

Dani had been pleased to hear from Ash again - their scene had been great for her, and it meant the world that not only had the quiet submissive enjoyed herself, she'd even reached out as instructed when she got back to her room.  It felt like progress, even if there was no defined end goal - whatever Ash was looking for, Dani intended to let her find it in her own good time.  It wasn't her job, nor her responsibility, to define that. It was a pleasant surprise to hear from her, and Dani quickly packed up a couple of beers from her fridge and a blanket before heading up the roof, pleased to find the other girl already waiting there.  "Hey, you," she greeted with a smile.  "How are you tonight?"

Ash was halfway through a cigarette when she heard the door click open behind her, she waited until Dani spoke to turn to look at her, hair flying in her face. "Hey." She returned, took another drag and put it out. "I'm..." Ash hesitated for a slight moment, deciding how truthful to be. "Better than last week, Miss." She didn't add the thanks to you. Ash didn't need anyone thinking they held power over her, none that was personally sewn anyway. She was a submissive after all, the power balance itself didn't phase her. "Why are you up late again?" She asked, more directly than the Dominant had.

A smile, slight but there, flickered across Dani's face.  She wasn't going to make a big deal of the answer, or ask for more details, but it was still nice to hear that Ash was doing well.  "I'm really glad to hear it," she nodded before offering a cold beer.  "I don't sleep all that well."  The admission was honest, and she wanted Ash to know she was being open.  "I slept too many places that I couldn't afford to close my eyes for long, and I got used to just getting an hour or two where I could."

Ash took the beer, thanking Dani politely, and twisted the top off. She leaned her weight to the right, peering over the edge. There was an incredibly strong urge to let the bottle cap drop over a group of people, presumably returning from town, below. Striking the thought, Ash pocketed it instead and leaned against the outer wall to take a sip. It was cold, and perfect. "You were homeless." Ash observed aloud, watching Dani. "Before you came here?"

Dani cracked open her own, taking a long sip and sighing with satisfaction as the cold liquid coated her throat.  She hadn't realized quite how much she needed it until just that moment.  "I was.  Not the whole time, but for a while.  My parents weren't all that big on having a lesbian for a daughter, and they didn't want me at home anymore."

It wasn't something Ash could remotely relate to but she absorbed the information and sipped her beer. "Must have been hard." She said, trying to imagine herself in that situation. Her father was strict but she didn't believe he would ever abandon her, not like that.

"It was," Dani agreed, taking another sip of her beer.  "But at the end of the day, I'm glad.  I'd rather have lived through that than lived with parents who didn't want me.  I couldn't have spent that long hiding who I am, and I refused to crawl back into the closet for their comfort.  I'd never have been able to look myself in the eye again."

Ash looked over at Dani, watching her as she spoke. She admired her conviction, Ash didn't know if she would have the strength to fight back or pull so far from her parents like that, despite her families strains, it sounded impossible. The brunette held up her beer to Dani's in a silent cheers to that. the woman seemed relatively sane for someone who not very long ago it sounded had very little structure in her life. A breeze swept through past them, not cold but enough to give Ash a chill, she lowered herself to the roof ground, sitting with her knees up, and leaned against the siding wall to hide from the wind.

Dani raised her bottle as well, thankful for even the silent toast.  She didn't make a big deal about her own struggles, because she knew that she had it better than a lot of people did, but it was always nice when someone was willing to give her a bit of acknowledgement, to concede that she'd gone through a lot and come a long way.  When Ash shivered, Dani moved closer and sat down beside her.  She didn't talk about what she was doing, because that might break the magic of the moment and drive Ash off, but she unfurled the blanket she'd brought and draped it over both of them.

The shared blanket was accepted easily, Ash didn't mind sitting so closely to Dani. In fact she hardly even noticed. "Where did you live before?" The submissive continued to question, trying to picture it. Strange how they'd barely known a thing about each other and yet Ash vividly remembers Dani's lips on hers while the swell of her orgasm was still subsiding. The more information she got though, the more of a mystery the Dominant seemed.

It was a bit of a relief that Ash didn't resist the blanket, because Dani didn't want to have to fight to keep the submissive covered up and warm.  "Austin," she smiled.  Ash wasn't one for unnecessary conversation, and Dani was learning to keep it to a minimum with her.  "That's where my whole family lives...lived, now that my sister and I are both here.  How about you, Ash?  Where did you live?"

"Boca Raton" Ash replied, the sound of it tasting dull in her mouth. She'd never really fit in, not at school, not at home, and certainly not with the sunny beach city attitude. "My parents are Devereux alums." She added. Ash had tried to avoid her father wishes in attending, trying to get out and as far away from her home state as she could but, it hadn't really worked out that way in the end. He always did seem to get his way.

"Oh - you're not far from home, then," Dani observed.  "I think you're the first person I've met who had parents that went here."  She offered it as a point of interest, and not for any further conversation.  Dani was very content to let Ash lead things, so if she had more to say on the subject then that was fine, and if she didn't that was fine too.   Instead she sipped her beer in silence.

Unfortunately not. Ash thought to herself and took a long sip of beer. They sat for a while, it was easy, and Ash found herself gravitating toward Dani, their shoulders pressed together beneath the blanket. After a while of comfortable silence, and another beer each later, Ash finally spoke again. "Do you see yourself claiming before you graduate?" She asked, then followed up quickly "There's no pretense to that."  before her cheeks could go rosy.

"I didn't think there was," Dani promised.  She felt comfortable pressed up against Ash, and the silence that they'd sat in was the good kind rather than the bad - the kind where no one needed to talk, but they both knew the option was there.  "I don't like to say for sure, because you never know what'll happen, but I'm hoping so.  How about you?  Thinking you'll have found a claim before you leave?"

Ash felt her stomach turn and she shifted, pulling a little back and into herself. "That is the plan." It certainly was. It was what was expected of her but at this point, Ash didn't even know if she still wanted it herself. She did before but now the submissive felt cautioned and maybe more than a little apprehensive of the idea. Not that there was much of a choice. Ash could choose to never enter a claim again but the world wasn't set up for someone like that. It would be a lonely existence that she knew. "I guess that's why we're all here."

Dani frowned as Ash seemed to move away.  Clearly that had been the wrong question, or phrased the wrong way, and suddenly the progress they'd made seemed to have all evaporated.  "It is and it isn't, I'd say.  Some people expect to leave here with a claim, some people are here to prepare for the possibility later.  Nothing wrong with it either way."

"Maybe I should start seeing it that way." Ash let slip, humming it under her breath before finishing off her beer. At that current moment it didn't matter and Ash overwhelmingly felt like she didn't want to talk anymore. She set her bottle down and tipped her phone out of her pocket to check the time. "We should go to bed."

"I don't want to tell you what to think.  It's something you need to decide for yourself, not hear from me."  When Ash checked the time Dani took the chance to stretch.  "Only if you want to.  I can grab us another beer, if you want."

Ash's flight response coiled in her chest and she was ready to spring. The brunette had nearly already begun to stand but she made herself stay. It was her own fault for breaking the silence, for always letting her mind wander there, and her inability to make up her own mind about her opinion on the matter. It frustrated her. Perhaps frightened a better word. "One more." She finally agreed and the submissive worked to settle herself, and accepted the drink with a murmured thank you.

Dani wasn't truly sure that Ash would choose to stay, because she was unpredictable and hard to read - in a good way.  But when she breathed out agreement to one last drink, Dani couldn't deny that it made her happy.  "One more," she agreed, passing over a cold bottle and opening one more of her own as she settled back against the wall.  "Are you going to the fair in town?"

Ash gave a shrug and took a long swing. "I've been invited to the haunted house sunday night." She said. Festivals weren't all bad, there were sweets and if Ash found the weather to be nice she would probably do some sketching. "It does give us something to do." She admitted, glad for what promised to be a quieter campus through the week with plenty of the students enjoying out enjoying it.

"Oh cool.  That should be fun - haunted houses can actually be good if they're done right."  Dani smiled and sipped her beer, nodding in agreement with Ash's point.  "Yeah, exactly.  It's a little break from campus life, with a few things to do that we usually can't.  Anything else you're going to check out?  You a fan of fair food?"

She shrugged again. "Not really. I'm more of a chocolate person." Ash said with a quirk of a smile. "Although I do enjoy the kettle corn." Truthfully Ash like the smell more than actually eating it but if she were choosing fair food, while she'd happily nibble a bit of someone's funnel cake, it was all she was really in for. The brunette distracted herself with her drink, and she sagged back into the blankets---and Dani. Despite the effort of conversation the beer and the atmosphere was making Ash warm and, finally, a little sleepy. She leaned against Dani, recalling the other night in the Dominant's bed as she lay her head on the woman's shoulder.

Dani grinned.  "I'll remember that the next time we have one of these rooftop meetings, I'll be sure and bring some chocolate."  When Ash rested against her she tried not to react too obviously or move too much, despite how much it meant to her.  Since their first scene, when Ash had rested against her, it had become something that made Dani feel a little bit triumphant.  She knew she wasn't a perfect Domme, or a perfect person, but she was proud to know that Ash trusted her enough to relax a little.  All that she did in response was to adjust the blankets a little, making sure they were both warm, and settle quietly against the wall.

[miraimisu]

I'm too sober for this with Lona from the dialogue prompt list? Only if you want of course :3

—

Gladion knows full well he should have never come to this party. He’s not even a party person, not to mention that he’s not here out of his own volition per se. Lillie had tickled him right where it hurt when she mentioned Moon would be coming– and he knows that Moon herself isn’t that fond of university parties either.

She likes small meetings with a few friends. She’s as fond of their tight circle of friends as he is, but sometimes, Moon likes to show off her social skills and meander around to find a victim to target with her bad jokes and wonderful personality.

What Lillie hadn’t mentioned – maybe on purpose, maybe not – was that Ilima would be coming, too.

It’s not like Gladion loathes Ilima. He’s an outstanding student, an aspiring lawyer, a charming man with that tilt to his words that could make a rock swoon. He’s had approximately half of the campus under his arm and blankets, and luckily for Gladion, Moon hadn’t met that destiny yet.

Yet.

Hau strides close from a side. There’s a slight wobble to his step. “If you keep lookin’ at Moon like that, you’re gonna burn her to the ground, man.”

Gladion takes a sip of his non-alcoholic drink. His nose is filled with about ten different drinks with varying degrees of intoxicating properties. “Ilima is around her like a snake.”

Hau blinks at him like nothing’s wrong with that statement.; if anything, it looks like something is wrong with Gladion himself. “So?”

“Ilima is a flirt.”

“And you ain’t Moon’s man, dude.” 

And it’s true. 

But Hau doesn’t know the many complications under that umbrella statement, so Gladion swallows a response down with his soda. Hau continues talking, an eye arched at Gladion’s lack of a comeback. “Did I miss anything between you two?”

“Anything worth mentioning.” That’s a lie he manages to get away with, inexplicably. “We have classes tomorrow. I shouldn’t have come here.”

Gladion stalks away from the common room to the small fridge installed at the corner, and Hau follows close behind, sporting a grin too wide to not be suspecting. “And I guess that Ilima fluttering around your crush ain’t got a thing to do with that, eh?”

Gladion wishes he could pull up a façade and lie.

He glances at Moon; she’s laughing at something Ilima has just said and he’s about done with everything.

He swallows a careful sigh.

Gladion isn’t prone to possessive tendencies, but he has a very particular dynamic with Moon that he’s very fond of. Secret movie nights at this very common room, alone and buried under blankets where they’d end up in each other’s arms without noticing. Nights of binging series on Rotom TV, commenting movies with soft laughter and mild banter. Sometimes, he had kissed her forehead and she had pecked his cheek.

In the blurs of dreams after gentle nights and loving embraces, Gladion had dreamed of her in his arms where they were more than friends, his crush on her no longer under control. They had met nearly 3 years ago and he’s sure he’s had some itty bitty feelings since shortly after their first meeting. Moon is hard not to fall for.

And now she’s hanging out with Ilima, who is smiling at her like she’s holding the sun in her hands, and tucking a strand of hair behind her hair.

The hand that was reaching for another can of soda suddenly wrangles to grab the last can of beer on in the fridge. He makes quick work of the tin opening and takes a thick gulp.

Hau chuckles. “Ilima’s always been a tease. Don’t get so worked up over it, dude.”

Gladion idly flicks the little tin chip, seeking a distraction that won’t be a brainsore like Hau is. “It’s much more complicated than saying that Moon and I are just friends, Hau.”

As simple-minded as he is, the other cocks his head to the side. “Then why don’t you just work it out, my dude? What’s holding you back?”

Looking at him, Gladion realizes that Moon’s dorm stands a few feet away from them, properly locked. It’s a place where they would sometimes cuddle to have deep conversations, a bed where they had sometimes slept on, a place where they once almost–

“I’m too sober for this conversation,” mutters Gladion, taking another swig while he swears he hears Moon laugh in the distance, a noise he’s learned to pick up in the muddled chatter of the crowd, a presence he hasn’t had near all night–

Hau is about to say another word, but Gladion sharply turns around and shuffles into the crowd, wondering if there’s another fridge with drinks somewhere on the floor.

—

When the party’s over and everybody has gone home, Gladion finds himself stumbling through the empty corridor of the building, slightly dazed. There are plastic cups carefully piled inside a plastic bag and snacks that have been forgotten on the countertops of the corridor. There are a few tissues on the floor, as well as a few coins that people must have dropped while dancing.

The common room is hauntingly empty, too. Long gone are the loud music and the overpowering crowds: the couches are empty, the TV is off and all that remains are the plates with crumbs of food and a few bottles of vodka and rum. 

The music and the ambiance of it all has left him light-headed and slightly scarred: he can still hear the music booming within his brain when silence takes over.

And then there’s Moon, throwing food into a plastic bag and shaking her head at the amount of trash that nobody but her has bothered to pick up. Leave it up to her to do the work that other people should be doing.

“Want some help?”

Moon’s back stiffens at his words, and she turns around like there’s a sniper aiming at her. The surprise soon wears off as she realizes it’s him, sighing with a smile. “There you are. I thought you would’ve gone to your dorm.”

In all fairness, he should be going to sleep instead of lingering around his crush, who probably isn’t interested in the way he is and holy shit he didn’t drink enough for this.

“I thought I’d take a small detour.” 

He can’t materialize any excuse into existence, so he remains quiet in hopes Moon is tired enough to think nothing of it.

His wishes come true and she giggles. “I’m glad to see you. There were so many people around I barely got to see you. I wished I had danced with you a little.”

“You know I don’t dance,” he admits with a chuckle, remembering the many times he had seen her dance to the songs of the radio and the many times he had refused to follow her steps– and then something else comes up. “And you, um, looked busy.”

Confusion flickers in her eyes, frowning softly. “Busy? I don’t recall being busy.”

“You were talking to Ilima all night.” The bitterness in that sentence is so evident he’s not sure how to follow it up without sounding jealous. “I didn’t think it would be polite to intrude.”

There were about a thousand ways to get out of that situation and he took none of them.

Instead of moving, Gladion remains there, rooted to the ground as he sees many emotions phase through her eyes. She carefully drops the bag, looking at him with wide eyes. He stands behind the red couch of the common room and she walks towards it, digging her knee on the cushion as she studies him.

The couch is the only thing standing between them and it still feels like she’s an inch away. She’s a few good inches smaller than him but damn he feels small. 

Her eyes narrow, lip bitten in thought. “Don’t you get along with Ilima?”

It’s not about that but he decides to let her think that’s the issue. “I guess I do, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“I respect him much more when he’s not fluttering around you like a crocodile.”

The way her eyes widen is worth a thousand dollars. It’s hard to make Moon pull a reaction that vivid and while Gladion is proud of himself for that feat, he’s also very aware that Moon has caught the pang of jealousy in that admission. 

Gladion gulps down the desire to run away and shoves his hands into his pockets. Moon leans forward until her hands are on top of the back of the sofa. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She’s giving him one last chance to step away from the lagoon and not wade through the mess, yet he jumps headfirst into the muddy waters.

“Ilima is always, um, hanging out with girls. I’ve heard he takes a pair to his room each week– and not to precisely study.” Moon’s eyebrows disappear under her side-swept fringe. “I didn’t want him to woo you too. I know you’re not like that but you never know. I didn’t want him to hurt you. Whatever.”

It’s the whatever that betrays the lie and Moon remains quiet, yet moves to where her knees are on the couch and, out of the blue, she’s smiling at him and looping his arms around his shoulders.

“Were you that fretty about me hanging out with Ilima?”

“Define fretty.”

“I’ll give you a synonym: worried.” Gladion nods at this. “And I’d take the risk and say jealous, too, but I don’t wanna assume anything.”

His eyes widen at the conflict in her tone, as though she’s just as bashful about this thing between them as he is. It gives him hope that she feels the same, that maybe they could talk this out, that this is the night they will finally stop beating around the bush.

“I… I guess you’re not wrong per se,” her arms twitch around his shoulders as he says this. He looks to the side, ashamed of himself. “I know we’re not a thing and that I’m not entitled to feeling like this, and that you got all the right to hang out with Ilima, he’s not that bad, I just gotta get over myself and–”

Moon places a digit on his lips and any cohesive train of thought dies on the spot. After she’s sure she has his attention, a smile shows up, crooked at the side.

“Oh, Gladion,” she leans a little closer, shifting upward to reach him better, “did you think I was flirting with Ilima?”

At least she seems outwardly fine with his feelings. “I thought he was flirting with you and that he was going to sweep you away,” he says, clearly having drunk a little too much to retain his inhibitions. Moon’s proximity isn’t making things any easier. “I didn’t want him to take you away. I don’t like him for you.”

Her head tilts, her smirk growing. “You’ve definitely drunk tonight, haven’t you?”

“Just a little,” he admits, curling his arms around her with a dry sigh.

“Then do tell me,” she whispers, only loud enough for him to hear. “What made you think anyone would take me away from you when you’re the only one I’d ever consider, you idiot?”

His heart stills as Gladion’s ever so analytical mind picks apart her words, puts them in order and lets them soak.

And next thing he knows, she’s grabbing his hair and he’s pulling at her shirt as they kiss, crashing their lips in desperation and pent-up frustration. They breathe in heavily and moan out slowly, kissing like they don’t have enough and like they need a taste of each other to survive. Each pull of her hand on his hair feels like nirvana; he never thought kissing her would be this wild and primarily exciting.

He dips her back a little in eagerness, kissing her hungrily, nipping at her bottom lip and brushing his tongue against hers with a sigh of relief, dipping his hands under the divide of her shirt, shifting upwards–

Moon abruptly breaks the kiss. Gladion becomes aware that the top buttons of his shirt have been snapped open and that her hands are exploring the exposed skin. “I guess I’m not the only one who’s been waiting for this, huh.”

Her voice is ragged and breathy. It sounds just right. His is husky with impatience. “I’ve been waiting for more than a year. Maybe more than two.”

Moon’s laughter jingles through the empty corridors. “What a coincidence: so have I.”

Gladion can’t help but tackle her to the sofa after that.

—

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 70

Chapter Summary - Tom's niece comes to stay. As Danielle and Tom are in the kitchen, they get talking about some thoughts as well as Danielle and Emma continuing to patch up their friendship.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

"I feel like you are conspiring against me." Tom grinned as he gently wrapped his arms around Danielle, who had spent the most of the day baking and watching DVDs with his niece, who was at that time, asleep in the guest room.

"How so?"

"Well, you two were very much in each other's confidence. I felt all alienated."

"You were working today need I remind you, and you are the one reaping the benefits of said day." She turned around and indicated to the crumbs on his shirt.

"I'm sorry, I know I said I would be there to help look after her, I am a terrible partner and uncle." He sighed.

"You are working," Danielle stated, wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's not like I can talk, I abandon you for work too often." She sighed. "We are so busy even when we are not."

"Are you worried?"

"I just hope I can get this done, then I can cut my hours and be a more present person." She explained. "I want to be here more when you are."

Tom gave her a loving smile. "I was thinking." He put some stray hairs behind her ear as he spoke. "I was thinking of not taking too many extra projects this year." Danielle frowned at him. "I have the Kong promotion, obviously, and Ragnarok, and a few other things, some of which I cannot even tell you too much about, but overall, I think I want to take a small breather." Danielle remained silent. "What do you think?"

"What is your reasoning, be honest?"

"I am tired, I have spent seven years barely ever home, my friends and family are having their lives around me and I am living in a suitcase and rushing to the next project. I want to slow a little, spend more time with Emma and Sarah, mum and dad, you, my friends."

Danielle smiled and nodded. "Then I think that's a great idea."

Tom's brows furrowed. "Really?"

"Yes, I was worried you were saying you wanted to because of something like just us, which would be a bad idea because that could cause resentment, but if it is for a general need to have more time with everyone, that is not foolish, it is actually very healthy in my opinion. A step back to refocus a few other parts of your life." She smiled. "What had you decide this?"

"A few things, your comments on your parents, and mine getting older, a few people making comments that they never see me anymore, having the Duchess here and not getting to see her, even if she is in the same house as me, and now with you," he caressed her cheek gently. "I want to put in an effort with you, I want to see can I give you the man you deserve, you deserve someone that is here a lot."

"I love and admire your honesty to say a lot and not always here." Danielle smiled.

"I see Chris and Elsa, Ben and Sophie, so many of my friends in the industry, working hard to juggle both work and family, and I can see it is difficult, but they are happy because though it is not ideal, they still get to have the ones they love and their jobs, which they adore, I want that."

"I will have to go away sometimes too."

"And whenever possible, I will be there with you," He swore.

Danielle laughed. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Which do you perceive it as?"

"I am hoping it's a promise." She smiled, kissing him before pulling back as he attempted to deepen it. "Your niece is here, remember."

Tom growled. "I am going to the US this week and I can't ravish you, that is entirely unjust."

"I know, but I am not scarring a five-year-old for life. Could you imagine if she saw us and told your sister?" Tom grunted in response. "Ooh, speaking of your sister's, I need to get back to Emma." Danielle walked over to the counter where she was charging her phone.

"Making plans?"

"I said I would bring Her Duchessness to the zoo tomorrow, but since you are busy, I offered Emma to come instead, she said yes so I need to tell her the time to meet us there."

"That will be lovely," Tom smiled, delighted to hear the two women were making plans together.

"Yeah, it'll be nice, I've never been to London Zoo, so I can't wait."

"I wish I was going."

"I know love, but you are finished at four tomorrow, right?"

"With any luck."

"Movies and pizza?"

"She'll love it."

"She'll be tired after the zoo, it'll be all she will want to do."

Tom smiled lovingly at his girlfriend, "You really should be an aunt, you are great at it."

"Really?" Danielle was sceptical.

"No, you are, that night we had people here, and you were in the kitchen alone with Christopher for a few minutes, you...it all looks so natural to you, children seem to adore you."

"Perhaps it's because I am a kindred spirit, an overgrown child."

"No, you are fun and everything, but you are responsible, you care for their wellbeing, you consider everything they want and need."

"Maybe I should have been a nanny," She joked, but there was something in Tom's eyes that caused her brow to raise. "What?"

"Nothing, just thinking of a few things."

"Dare I ask?"

"I just am so happy that I finally realized how much I love you and love having you here." Danielle looked ar him as though he was being odd. "No, seriously, I nearly lost my chance to be with you, everything with Taylor, if it was you that was having a baby with Paul and not this other girl, it could so easily have been. I...I am just so grateful for whatever bit of luck caused this to happen." He kissed her again.

"I always wanted you to be happy Tom, I thought for so long I wouldn't be the one it would happen with, but I did, but with her, I was...not jealous, well, yes, I was, slightly, I was jealous, I knew I would be of anyone you had found because I felt how I did, but it felt so wrong, you changed, and I mean, everyone changes some bit when they are with someone, but you became so...negative like you were lost."

"I was miserable, she...she ensured I wasn't alone, but I realized very quickly, it is better to be alone than in a crowd of people that make you feel alone." He explained.

"Alone isn't bad, it is lonely that is bad. I like being alone from time to time, but lonely, that one eats at you."

"That's true. Do you wish I would leave you alone?"

"On Thursday, when I decided to go for a walk with Mac for no real reason?" Tom nodded, "That was me wanting 'me' time, I wanted an hour of fresh air to myself."

"You never said anything, I could have left if you wanted."

"Tom, I wanted to go for a walk, outside, just me, and well, might as well bring Mac. I am not kicking you out of the house for anything and should I ever feel so inclined, I will be honest and tell you, not that it will happen."

"Why?"

"I can be like a cat sometimes, want to be around you but not interact, you know?"

Tom chuckled, "I think most people are like that." Danielle's phone gave off a small tone indicating she got a new message, "Well?"

"Noon at the front entrance to the zoo."

"I am actually sort of envious."

"Well, perhaps soon you and I can go with her when this is all out in the open."

"Really?" Tom's voice was filled with hope.

"Yes, I think we should, or something else, the Tower of London, the London Eye, something, anything, but together." Tom kissed her again in delight.

*

"I am serious, she was this close to stealing a penguin," Emma's fingers were mere millimetres from one another as she spoke to Tom, who was chuckling as he leant against the counter with his tea in his hand after his day of work, listening to Danielle, Emma and niece tell him of their adventures.

"That actually happened in Dublin Zoo not too long ago." Danielle pointed out.

"I am so glad you said that now and not four hours ago." Emma's face showed her relief. "So, what are the plans now?"

"This evening will be pizza and movies." Tom beamed, delighted to have gotten home when he had hoped.

"I am not half jealous," Emma commented. "So, ready for the Golden Globes?"

"No, I need to pack," Tom admitted. "I have no idea why I am going, I won't win."

"You don't know that, and bar the weirdness of seeing my brother's bare ass, it was really good, you were really good."

"Could have been worse, you've seen him in far worse situations." Danielle grinned.

"If you mention the tank top," Tom warned.

"I was referencing that scene in Unrelated, but hey, if that's where your head is at." She smirked, Tom, giving her a glare for it, to which, she responded by sticking out her tongue.

"Are you going to the US too?" Danielle turned to look at Emma in shock. "Sorry, I just thought..."

"No, I am staying here, I have no reason to go over and it is just inviting problems." She explained plainly. "It's just a couple of days, and with Mac and the work I want to get done, I am better served here."

"So no red carpets?"

"I have no interest in those things." Danielle declared. "I'd happily never go on one in my life."

"What about if you are up for an award?" Tom asked.

Danielle laughed in response. "What sort of award is there for safety checking? It's one of those jobs most people don't even know exists."

"Doesn't that get a little depressing, though?"

Danielle shrugged, "Probably to a few who define their work in that way, but I find myself more motivated by seeing the end product and getting to sign off on something."

"You'll be forced to go with Tom sooner or later, meaning you will have to be suitably dressed, that will be fun." Emma sniggered, knowing well that to Danielle, that was hell personified.

"I have already had to endure one day of shopping for all that sort of crap, another would kill me."

"Wait, what, you went shopping already?"There was something akin to upset in Emma's tone.

"Yeah, I got dragged by a woman I know to go, she works as a makeup artist so she insisted that my TomBoy ass would know nothing, which is not entirely true, and forced me to go with her."

"In all fairness, you have shown me what you got, they are incredibly beautiful," Tom commented.

"How could you not know, you stood over me as I put them in the closet."

"We needed to make room for them, I needed to clean out what I no longer wear."

"Wait, they're here?" Emma asked.

"Upstairs, in our room," Tom informed her.

Hearing her brother reference the room as 'Ours' was peculiar to Emma, but she said nothing and looked pleadingly at Danielle. "Can I...?"

"You're only asking because you are eyeing up what you can steal. I may be shorter and younger than you, but I know what you are up to!" Danielle laughed, but she moved toward the door, holding it open for Emma to go out first.

The youngest Hiddleston sibling immediately made her way out and up the stairs, knowing well where her brother's master bedroom was, with Danielle behind her, she walked in and found herself looking at the room as she had not before. It smelled slightly less like her brother, a female smell seemed to be present also. As well as that, the bed showed signs it was now occupied by two and not one person, some of Danielle's belongings were on the far bedside locker and a few items of her clothes were in the room. "It's sort of weird." She admitted, looking to Danielle who was studying her.

"I can only imagine."

"I mean, Tom is so private but this is so...it's almost like it has always been like this, that's what so weird." Emma tried to explain.

"I don't know how to respond to that." Danielle shrugged, laughing slightly.

"No, sorry, I am making this weird again." Emma sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. "I just am getting used to it, but making it harder to get over it by bringing it up so much." She inhaled deeply, "Right so, the clothes?"

Half an hour later, and as predicted, two tops commandeered, there was a buzz on the intercom which Tom answered, "I believe my wife is somewhere on the premises?" Came a strong Tyrone accent. Tom chuckled and buzzed in his brother-in-law. "Dare I ask?"

"Danielle went shopping, Emma is stealing."

"Nothing new there so." He chuckled. "Em, want me to leave the car with you, I got called back into work, so I need to head soon," Jack called up the stairs.

"Hi, Uncle Jack." Came a chirpy voice from the hallway above.

"Hello Sweetheart, have a good day?"

"Yep, Emma and Ellie brought me to the zoo and let me get a new teddy and so much nice stuff."

"I am glad to hear it." Jack beamed, "Can you get Emma for me?"

"She is helping Auntie Ellie with something, she said she will be a minute." the youth informed him.

"Thank you, Sweetheart." she darted off again. "Auntie Ellie?"

"It's stuck." Tom shrugged.

"No pressure." Jack chuckled.

"No, none."

"How did...?" Jack indicated up the stairs.

"Can only be good, I've heard them laughing up there, though I am sure that that means I should be concerned."

"Probably should be alright." Jack laughed again. A moment later, his wife came to the top of the stairs. "Wait, Danielle bought that?" He asked, looking and the top his wife was wearing.

"Yep," Emma grinned. "Suits me better."

"Really?" Tom's brow rose.

"Well, that's my excuse." Emma shrugged. "See you later big brother." She hugged him tightly.

"I am glad you had a good day." Tom kissed the side of her head before she pulled back.

"Yeah."

Danielle waved as she descended the stairs and Emma gave her a large smile before walking out the door. "So, what pizza are we ordering, and what film is going on?" Tom asked, looking at his partner and niece, who both came down the stairs excitedly after that.

[barebonesblonde]

Don’t Say You Love Me (Falling For A Psycho Girl)

So if you read the last post, you know i’m just dragging myself by the teeth and unkempt nails out of the dumpster fire that is my so-called “heart”;

I.e., yet another relationship bit the dust. The first one in 4 years. It was new, but i fell hard, because he was different and not an abusive fuck, was super-sweet, and had the brain-cooties too (not like mine, but still), so i could relate to him on a deeper level than most. But turns out, he’s already into someone else, if his FaceBook memes are any indication (which they almost certainly are), which makes me feel incredibly stupid and naive that i didn’t see it coming. He was probably talking to this girl romantically before things ended with us. Which puts things in a whole new light.

 That light being — i am, and i reiterate, incredibly stupid and naive.

 Which brings me to the next bit.

The very next day after things imploded in my face with this guy, a friend – a male friend – talked to me for three hours on the phone to cheer me up, make me feel better about my stupid little heart; and after we hung up, he messages me to confess to me that he’s in love with me.

 Here’s the thing. It’s not that I don’t “love” this guy friend. In as much as I can feel love for him or anybody else. That sort of thing is reserved for a very small pool of people, and I’m not very good at it. Ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you. I will disappear off the face of the earth for weeks at a time, and expect you to be ok with that. I have a hard time being emotionally available for most people.

 My capacity for being In Love with a capital “L” is severely limited, and probably not defined in the way most people think of the word. I’ve experienced real, actual, true Being In Love probably twice in my life. Where it hit me hard, and i was both viscerally and emotionally affected by it, and wanted to put that person’s needs before my own and all that sort of thing, where i felt that gut-wrenching emotion when it ended for whatever reason. Where i felt emotions that had to do with THEM, and not just ME. Not just the selfishness of “romantic love”, which mostly has to do with how that person makes you feel, and less to do with the actual person. But when I did feel it, I felt it all the way. And crawling out of it is certainly no easy feat. In fact, I still love my first True Love — but he died many years ago, so there’s not much I can do about that.

 I’ve certainly developed feelings, even felt love for a couple people I’ve dated — which evolved into true friendships, which I consider to be a type of love that’s different from being In Love, though still very worthy and much more likely to occur in a person’s life multiple times. Those instances of love are the people that i still speak to, despite whatever pain it cost to get us here, because we still actually had a real connection after the romantic bit ended. (The guy in the photo being one of those).

 Of course, the question is, was it genuine Love ™ i felt for the Guy I Fell For if it wasn’t actually reciprocated? If he’s already moved on to someone else, then clearly it was one-sided on my part since i still have feelings, and he clearly does not.

I don’t know. The thing is, I can’t transfer my feelings from one person to the other so quickly. Or at all. Because for me, I rarely feel them to begin with.

 Oh, in the past i’ve felt serious infatuation. When i was younger and unmedicated, i was capable of obsessive infatuation. Of course that ended when that person’s flaws came to the light, or they disappointed me. I see this one’s flaws quite clearly and still have the feelings. I hate it, but there it is. Maybe that’s the problem. For him, it was just infatuation.

 Part of the problem of being a Psycho bitch — like, literally, I have ASPD (Anti-Social Personality Disorder, my secondary diagnosis, and it’s not severe, but it’s significant enough to be problematic. This is the first time I’ve talked about it, because the stigma surrounding it is so fucked up) — is that it’s not easy for me to connect with other people. Not in any genuine way. It’s considered to be, in my and many cases, the result of certain childhood experiences. It’s a fairly common reason for this fairly uncommon disorder. A protection that the brain constructs as a result of physical and psychological trauma. I recognize it, and i try to work on it. It’s not easy.

 Here’s where the Mental Illness Education Bit comes in, folks. Because yeah, we’re doing that now. ASPD is a relatively new diagnosis – or rather, TERM for a diagnosis (in general, and also for Yours Truly), and it’s often interchanged with Sociopathy, which is often interchanged with Psychopathy. It’s not a Mental Illness, per se, but a Personality Disorder. Which might be wrong, for me, since it’s co-morbid with Schizoaffective Disorder which has some symptoms in common, and they gave me my ASPD diagnosis several years ago for what they thought previously was Bipolar – which is fairly obviously not my problem. I don’t have mood swings, per se, but i do have impulsivity, and lack of empathy, and other things that jive with the ASPD diagnosis. Apparently, my being slightly Sociopathic makes more sense. Honestly, i sometimes think they just liked slapping the label on a woman because it’s so rare.

 On the other hand, it does kind of fit, if i’m going to be honest. I’m very good at the whole social mask thing. And i don’t feel things normally – haven’t ever, really.

 I’ve never murdered anyone (yet), but i will certainly admit to having a lack of conscience or empathy where many things are concerned. Or, perhaps just a lack of emotion in general. My psychiatrists say it’s due to severe PTSD and trauma. As is true for many people with the disorder, as i mentioned.

The misapprehension people have, however, is that people with the disorder NEVER connect, or are incapable of it. This isn’t true. When we do connect, it’s definitely genuine and deep. We just don’t do it with many people at all. Mainly this is because we’re basically self-centered and pretty selfish. And not very “nice”. We have to work at it. We aren’t “empaths” or any of that new age crap. We don’t connect with the outside world very easily, or well. We can be manipulative. And in some cases, fairly narcissistic. Definitely overly-logical when being emotionally sympathetic is clearly called for.

 But every once in a while, i really connect with somebody. And when that happens, it’s really not easy to let go. But when i finally decide it’s time that i do, it’s like that person never existed. It’s very black and white. Again, a protective thing my brain does, i suppose.

 And God knows what I did to fuck things up with The Guy I Fell For, because that’s just it — i will do things out of my inability to be empathetic sometimes. Or patient. People will tell me that I’m sweet and kind, but really I admire those qualities in others, and try very hard to emulate them. I think I have those qualities in me sometimes, but I have to work at them. The very few people I do love bring them out in me. But even so, I fuck it up. Often. I didn’t have anything to model it after growing up, you see. So my version of compassion and normal love and affection looks rather like Helen Keller’s version of trying to describe the color blue, I rather suspect, sometimes.

 But, i digress.

So, this friend – we’ll call him The Limey (because oddly enough, he’s also living way the fuck in another country) confesses his love for me, and i realize off the bat that my emotional response is all wrong. The wheels in my head are turning in all the wrong directions. It’s a welcome distraction, and an ego boost, and i latch onto it like a drowning woman for about a day. In some ways, he’s a perfect match for me. We’re good friends. He’s single, a talented musician, whipsmart, witty, kind of an asshole in all the right ways; he’s willing to come right out and tell me how he feels. He’s incredibly attractive, and sexy as Hell. He wants me to leave the damn country with him, for fuck’s sake. All the things i so desperately want. And, yes, i do like him, a lot.

 But do i Love ™ him? No. Which comes into stark relief when he pisses me off by being a jerk to one of my friends – someone i do love (not romantically, but definitely love) and my first reaction is FUCK this Limey. I don’t even give him the benefit of the doubt.

 My emotions are so shut down at this point that i can’t even conceive of giving the Limey a chance. Him, or anyone else for that matter. Because i’m done. I’m done connecting with people for a good while. I have the very few people in my little Universe of Discourse, and that’s all i need.

 Clearly, the point here is that i’m damaged, but i’ve always been. I don’t think it means i need “help”, and i certainly am not asking for sympathy. I’m perfectly aware that i am fucked up. In fact, on one level, i’m happy to know that i’m still capable of falling for someone, as misguided as it may have been, and as hurt as i am from the way it all ended. It shows me that i do, in fact, still have a soul. That i’m capable of actually feeling something real, as opposed to my usual screwing around with abusive men — which is not love, but some weird head game i put myself through out of some need to torture myself.

 Soooo, this post digressed wildly.

 The point IS, i was flattered and moved by this friend’s declaration of love for about 48 hours before he pulled some crap that made me want to beat him over the head with a tire iron, and then i responded in my usual unsympathetic and offhand fashion because that is my default.

I’m fairly convinced at this point that i should just avoid romance altogether. I’m obviously bad at it, i pick the absolute wrong person nearly every single time, and then wonder why i’m miserable. Then i spend the next 3-4 years perfectly happy all by myself, which is just long enough to forget how miserable relationships make me. Rinse, repeat.

 Plus there’s that whole thing where i have to explain that i’ve got the Brain Cooties…or Brain Worms (thanks, Jay, for that new term), which is never a fun conversation; like, “No, dear, i’m not going to knife you in your sleep, and no, i don’t hear voices telling me to roast your spleen with a nice Chianti. At least, not usually. NO, BABE. THAT WAS A JOKE…”

 I just…i can’t.

 If i end up like one of those old ladies with her cats living with her female roommate in the boondocks collecting furballs and molding them into puppets and selling them on Etsy, then so be it. Right now, it seems like the sane choice.

 *photo of me and The Samurai – dear friend and fellow artist

[sagamemes]

love and other disasters (2006) sentence starters.   below the cut, you’ll find a total of 140 lines of dialogue from love and other disasters. as per usual, feel free to alter diction, pronouns and anything else your heart desires. i’ve edited slightly to fit roleplay and randomised the order. warnings for sexual themes, aids mention, marihuana use, cheating.

❝  well, actually i was just having lunch across the street and came to tell you the good news in person.  ❞

❝  why is it that as soon as i fall in love with a man, he abandons me?  ❞

❝  we fuck and then you say you don’t want a relationship.  ❞

❝  so despite your fragile beauty, you’re actually built like an ox.  ❞

❝  what other secret are you keeping from me?  ❞

❝  what’s more important, true love or fashion?  ❞

❝  you’re straight? since when?  ❞

❝  why else would someone like you have a coffee with someone like me?  ❞

❝  you make me sound like an exchange student.  ❞

❝  i can’t believe i drove him out of the country.  ❞

❝  what’s the point of shagging someone ad nauseam if you’re never going to love them?  ❞

❝  it’s okay. i forgive you. so you can stop feeling sorry for me or guilty or whatever.  ❞

❝  i think accidental meets are better... that is not to say accidents can’t be planned.  ❞

❝  i had to give his ego cpr.  ❞

❝  it’s just sex. he fills a void. literally.  ❞

❝  news of my crush just travelled across the atlantic ocean!  ❞

❝  you’d know if you were great.  ❞

❝  i suppose i first noticed when i was around 8. i thought it was just a phase, you know, but eventually, i had to accept the truth. i like women. ❞

❝  it’s a romantic comedy! how do you think it ends?  ❞

❝  i’m like, fuck that. i know i’m talented. i don’t need some ____ degree to tell me.  ❞

❝  have you ever thought this whole ‘true love’ thing might be a conspiracy?  ❞

❝  [full name] may be a giant, but you are a giant in waiting.  ❞

❝  three years and you still treat me like a one-night stand!  ❞

❝  the stages of a relationship can be defined by farting.  ❞

❝  no, actually, i’m very out of shape and that nearly killed me.  ❞

❝  i was so caught up in my head i missed out on getting to know you. and i would like to get to know you. i mean, if you’re willing to give me another chance?  ❞

❝  i've never actually been in a relationship except in my own head.  ❞

❝  so how do i get to know you?  ❞

❝  i don’t know that [name] is the love of my life. but i’ve decided to give him the chance to be.  ❞

❝  are you asking if i’ll still love you?  ❞

❝  there’s nothing more important right now than global poverty. i mean in the warming sense.  ❞

❝  that boy---gay as a goose.  ❞

❝  i think you’re exactly the kind of person they would have wanted me to marry.  ❞

❝  we had a row about his car. i told him i don’t generally get into vehicles that cost less than my handbag, he accused me of being a spoiled bitch.  ❞

❝  if you’re going to get any more in touch with your inner child, you’re going to need an inner nanny.  ❞

❝  was i right or was i right?  ❞

❝  he went to [public/private/boarding] school. he probably enjoys being spanked.  ❞

❝  where did you learn to speak [language] like that?  ❞

❝  what’s more important, anything or fashion?  ❞

❝  you /are/ a desperate fantasist.  ❞

❝  do you want to go to bed? you know, have sex.  ❞

❝  it would’ve meant breaking your rule to only to have sex with people you don’t really love and to only love people you don’t have sex with.  ❞

❝  i had no idea that under that shy, sweet exterior was such steely confidence!  ❞

❝  i’m afraid you’re drunk.  ❞

❝  truth is way too complicated. and unsatisfying. and hard to believe.  ❞

❝  i’m going to this black tie thing for my roommate.  ❞

❝  that’s not love, [name], that’s the flu.  ❞

❝  we work in fashion. everyone is an overpampered monster.  ❞

❝  [name] is going through a nasty divorce. she needs positive affirmation.  ❞

❝  i’m sorry, but [full name] stands for everything i absolutely despise.  ❞

❝  i think people shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds them.  ❞

❝  how very ‘all about eve’.  ❞

❝  i’m just nervous. he’s meant to have a ferocious temper.  ❞

❝  i’m probably gonna get fired tomorrow, but it was worth it just to see [name] in action.  ❞

❝  he came over and we shagged. then i asked how he felt about monogamy.  ❞

❝  and this is the person you think you could be in love with? someone you’ve never even spoken to? someone you’ve never even met?  ❞

❝  the only thing that’s changed is what might happen between you two.  ❞

❝  i mean, i had a bad age five. i had a terrible age five, actually.  ❞

❝  maybe love isn't something that happens to you. maybe it's something you have to choose.  ❞

❝  you could’ve worn something nicer.  ❞

❝  you want a brownie? i made them myself.  ❞

❝  i’m not miserable, and i believe in true love.  ❞

❝  well, you know what they say, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’.  ❞

❝  [name], pick out the sexiest outfit and go home immediately!  ❞

❝  i think my parents would have really liked you.  ❞

❝  i can’t believe you’re cooking dinner for some guy you met yesterday.  ❞

❝  an affair? you’ve only been going out for two weeks!  ❞

❝  nothing like a happy set.  ❞

❝  well, i better be off. my flight’s at 9 and i’ve still got to pack.  ❞

❝  my memoirs, darling. i’ve decided to publish.  ❞

❝  i’m sure you’re far prettier than [name]’s wife.  ❞

❝  everyone’s miserable because they’re looking for this nonexistent ‘thing’, or else they’re miserable because they think they settled for less.  ❞

❝  do you always judge people so quickly?  ❞

❝  you and [name]? you and---you and [name]? oh my god! oh, look, i... i.... i won’t say a word, i promise. cross my heart.  ❞

❝  i’m a superficial assistant at a major fashion magazine. you’ll ruin my reputation.  ❞

❝  stop doing research and would you write your goddamn screenplay!  ❞

❝  when’s the last time you’ve considered falling in love?---i’m not talking about some character in a book or a movie.  ❞

❝  [name] would have loved to come tonight, but thanks to the conspiracy of silence between the catholic church and the tories in the face of aids, he can’t.  ❞

❝  love isn’t always a lightning bolt, you know? maybe sometimes, it’s just a choice.  ❞

❝  there’s quite a bit of hash in them.  ❞

❝  i’m following your advice. i’m breaking my rules.  ❞

❝  i know i should have said something before. but every time i started, it seemed like the wrong time.  ❞

❝  everyone knows you can’t be drunk and tango. so if i can tango, then i’m not drunk.  ❞

❝  would it be alright if i borrowed an outfit just for tonight? i have kind of a date.  ❞

❝  actually, i can’t believe i haven’t tried to fix you up with him years ago. he’s perfect for you!  ❞

❝  can we not talk about my non-existent film career right now?  ❞

❝  well, i suppose i’d never have lived up to your fantasy anyway.  ❞

❝  you’re almost out of shampoo so i had to use soap.  ❞

❝  you broke up with him a month ago!  ❞

❝  i just remembered. i need a pedicure.  ❞

❝  for the last six months, you’ve been saying one thing and doing another.  ❞

❝  there is no need to be nasty to me just because i don’t remember people’s names.  ❞

❝  hello? i’m waiting! [name], when i have to ask for it, it’s too late!  ❞

❝  that’s the problem with life. it’s nothing like the movies.  ❞

❝  apparently, he shags her four times a day and inspires her to write new volumes of poetry! isn’t that great?  ❞

❝  i happen to care about [name]. a lot. and i hate the fact that he feels more than me. and i hate the fact that i'm not in love with him. because i know i should be. because he's smart and sweet and decent and i don't want to hurt him. so i keep hoping that i’ll grow into it.  ❞

❝  you could’ve worn something, full stop.  ❞

❝  we can’t have you all alone in [city] on a friday night!  ❞

❝  so then i had to fuck him.  ❞

❝  he calls me five times per day, begging me to go out with him. apparently, my voice haunts him.  ❞

❝  oh, these are lovely, but [name] hates flowers.  ❞

❝  i promise i won’t make a pass.  ❞

❝  i’m going to enjoy making her feel stupid about this one.  ❞

❝  but you don’t like me in that way.  ❞

❝  oh, so you’re saying i should forget about him for purely geographical reasons?  ❞

❝  why are you reading a cookbook in the nude?  ❞

❝  since when do you say ‘lots of love, big kiss’ to your boss?  ❞

❝  i can’t explain it, but... it was amazing. because it was like i was finally seeing the person i’d been waiting for my entire life.  ❞

❝  we’re related, but only by birth. so don’t hold it against me.  ❞

❝  i mean, thanks to a chance encounter at a beach party, you hook up with one of the world's top fashion photographers. first class travel, exotic locations. you really hit quite the jackpot.  ❞

❝  i just wanted to tell the truth and somewhere along the line it got mixed up with a bunch of lies.  ❞

❝  i thought this whole dead animal thing was ten years ago.  ❞

❝  you don’t talk about monogamy /after/ you shag a guy...  ❞

❝  whoever designed those heels must really hate women.  ❞

❝  you’ve got to go. i’ve got friends coming over for brunch. ❞

❝  he never even showed, which proves my theory: he must think i’m a stalker freak.  ❞

❝  he’s in love with you, [name]. you’re not in love with him. it doesn’t get more simple than that.  ❞

❝  well, unless you want me to feel totally humiliated, say ‘yes’.  ❞

❝  i just don’t see much of a future together.  ❞

❝  you’re an artist, [name]’s an artist.  ❞

❝  he said you really sorted him out on the relationship front. and i could certainly use some help there.  ❞

❝  you’re not stupid, you just saw what you wanted to see.  ❞

❝  i just remembered [name] might have a boy at the house. can i stay at yours?  ❞

❝  we’re having a strictly phone-based relationship.  ❞

❝  i can’t help it, i’m naturally dramatic!  ❞

❝  oh, you know, i said how great he is, how he’s going to make the right [girl/boy/person] happy, how it’s really not him, it’s blah blah blah...  ❞

❝  i’m feeling small enough as it is.  ❞

❝  look, most great artists have to deal with rejection in their lifetime.  ❞

❝  see, this is exactly why i don’t want to be in a relationship with you!  ❞

❝  i’m always like this when i have to see my mother.  ❞

❝  maybe true love is a decision. you know, a decision to take a chance with somebody. to give to somebody without worrying whether they'll give anything back. or if they're gonna hurt you, or if they really are the one.  ❞

❝  the problem with straight men is that no matter how hard they try, they still need to control, to dominate.  ❞

❝  thank god you’re gay!  ❞

❝  you seem to think the only reason anyone would be with him is for this ‘jackpot’.  ❞

❝  i never felt ugly or fat.  ❞

❝  i’m not getting married without a maid of honour.  ❞

❝  he’s just the sweetest, funniest guy i know. if he wasn’t [straight/gay], i’d have married him ages ago.  ❞

❝  i’m a fantasist, not desperate.  ❞

❝  you don’t know me. and if you did, you’d know i’d never take advantage of [name].  ❞

[errant-ezra]

A Story, I Guess

I just watched @danielhowell ‘s new video and I think it’s time for me to share my story. I know it probably won’t make much of a difference because not too many people follow me, but I need to talk about it. TW: depression, self harm, homophobia, suicide

My name is Elizabeth C[redacted]. Sorry, no last name, because I’d rather nobody from my school/town saw this.

I’m queer. I don’t really have any specific label because I’m still figuring myself out. I’m not sure if I’m a female or nb or gender fluid. I know I like women. I know I like nb people. I know I like men. I’d rather not try to figure out the exact word that defines me right now.

I grew up in a small rural town. I still live here. 300 people, pre-k through senior year. It’s beautiful, it really is. Mountains, rivers, our autumns are breathtaking. The only ugly things are the trashy grocery store and some of the people.

Up until third grade, I only knew “gay” as a word for happy. I didn’t know that there were people who liked the same gender. I certainly didn’t know people weren’t always the gender they were assigned at birth. Quite a few people in my town still don’t know.

When I was in maybe first grade, a bully at my school called me and a friend “lesbians” on the bus. My friend told me to tell the bus driver. I didn’t even know what it meant.

In third grade, before the Christmas concert, a kid came up and said “Elizabeth has gay happy meetings.” And I said, “yeah, I’m happy” and he said “no, it means you like girls.” I don’t think I really understood what he meant by that. I just went along with it.

Up until seventh grade, everything was uneventful. I wasn’t really aware gay people existed. A rumor went around in sixth grade that our music teacher was a lesbian but I stood up for her because, from everything I knew, being a lesbian was bad.

And then, in eighth grade, a girl showed up. And I was screwed. I realized I liked her. More than just a friend. And I was bi. I sat with her and another out girl in the back of the bus on the way home and we would talk about the girls we thought were pretty.

Even in such a small school, though, these girls were the outcasts. Nobody really talked to them and so, by association, nobody really talked to me either. I don’t think we even told anyone we were queer, but we didn’t really hide it either.

I was lucky. My older sibling came out to me as bi a year earlier, and it made me confident enough to come out to my mom in a letter. My mom is a wonderful person, I just want everyone to know that. She is my favorite person on the planet. But she wasn’t exactly supportive.

She told me the typical “it might be a phase” and “lots of girls your age experiment.” And I cried. A lot. Because all I had wanted was a simple ok. All I’d wanted was to be told it was alright and she loved me. And she said she loved me. But she didn’t say it was normal.

I have a lot of internalized homophobia from when I was a kid. Everything stupid or bad or unpleasant? Gay. There’s still kids in my senior class who do this, and who use the f slur. And it’s fucked me up a lot.

A year or two later, I came out to my dad, this time as Pan. He said it was ok. He didn’t really care, I was always going to be his kid and he was always going to love me. “There’s a lot of good in you, kiddo.” That’s the thing that sticks out most in my mind.

But the internalized homophobia was still there. I fought it off by trying to be obnoxiously queer, talking about how pretty girls were, throwing around my sexuality like confetti. And on the outside it worked.

On the inside, it didn’t. I have a genetic disposition for anxiety and depression. My mom says our thermostats for serotonin are just set too low. And in the summer before ninth grade, it got bad.

I went to a camp. Like, a camping type of camp where we went on hikes and slept in tents and only got to shower every other day. The first day I was seated at a table with a guy I’ll call Mike. And I could tell he was gay. He was talking about his significant other, tentatively mentioned he was a guy, and all the other people kept eating.

He and I became close friends over the rest of the week, along with a gender-fluid kid we can call Jack and a straight girl (she thought at the time, later she realized I was her lesbian awakening which sucks cause I had a huge crush on her at the time and hid it) I’ll call Kelly.

We talked a lot. The other three had pretty prominent mental health issues, and were open about it. I mentioned how my mental health wasn’t great either. The four of us bonded, and at the end of the week we promised to keep in touch.

Later that summer, we were still all in touch and my mind was getting worse, no small part due to the internalized homophobia. I self harmed for the first time, scratching my face until it bled. I had scabs for the rest of the summer.

After that, it only got worse. I started cutting, using a pencil sharpener I had and bandaging it with loose leaf. I was alone, I was hopeless, I didn’t belong, I wasn’t right. I started writing suicide letters pretty frequently.

In tenth grade, it reached its peak. I was in a very toxic relationship with a guy for quite a while, and it only worsened my mental state. I wanted support, but all I got was someone telling me to suck it up. So I sucked it up, and kept it inside, and let it eat away at me.

And then I fell in love. With a girl. And she was everything to me. She was silly and brilliant and so full of light and life. And I was so terrified of being with a girl that it took me four months of dating to finally kiss her.

But for the first time, I felt right. Even though there was this awful pressure and my mom was uncomfortable with me being with this girl, I felt so happy with her that I could ignore that. But I wasn’t good enough still.

As much as I wish I could say she saved me, I still had to save myself. And I was reluctant to do so. At this point I was on a small dose of Zoloft and was going to therapy, but I was still unmanageable. It got to the point where I would think about killing myself nearly every day. And then, one day, I opened my eyes and I had pills in my hand and a glass of water and I realized it was a mistake.

I didn’t kill myself that night. And I haven’t gotten that close since. But I still have panic attacks. I was clean for almost a year up until last week when stress caught up to me all at once. But I’m working on it.

My worst tendency, though, isn’t physical. I have this awful habit of finding any homophobic website, thread, discussion, whatever, and reading it until I can feel myself on the brink of a panic attack. I would do this over and over, feeding that hatred inside me. And I don’t know why.

I still do this, though I’ve gotten better. I have a bi pride flag hanging in my bedroom window. I have rainbow pride shirts and buttons. I have forced myself to accept who I am over and over, and some days it still feels impossible. But I’m getting there. And one day, maybe I’ll get to the point wherever that awful thing inside me doesn’t exist. But until then, I have to work and push every day to love myself.

I know this is just terribly long and probably not worth reading, but... I needed to say it. Because I’ve never put it all out there. And while that girl and I are no longer together, we still love each other. I’ve had some other relationships, but none of them have felt the same. I’m comfortable openly flirting with girls now.

Basically, what I’m saying, is that there is hope. It gets better. You are strong. You can survive. And also, it’s a process. It may take a while to truly love yourself, but I promise, you will get there. And in the meantime, just love being yourself. You’re living a life that nobody else will ever get to live. And that’s incredible. So take a minute sometimes to remember that. You’re worth it. You matter. We love you.

[thexduchess-blog1]

Reflections.

Unattached

The whole unattached thing. As a general rule, with play-partners, FwB and fuckbuddys, I don’t get attached. It gets messy, boundaries are crossed and people catch feelings and it’s just, ugh. No.

There’s a thing I’ve been meaning to do, and that’s reflect on last years, and last weeks explosive, Krakatoa level eruptions that essentially convinced me that everyone is a lying cunt, and I can never properly trust anyone ever again because holy fuck, this is a belter.

Without going into ridiculously specific detail that would identify the piece of shit scumbag wanker, as much as I want to, I won’t.

Around 10/11 years ago I became friends with a guy, and at first we just fooled around but it eventually developed into a pretty serious and committed D/s relationship. Life got in the way occasionally but we always came back together and fell right back into place with each other. We saw each other 3 times a week, went away together, attended events together, and holy fuck the sex was amazing, but so were the lazy mornings, sending pictures to each other at work, goodnight phone calls and late nights getting high under the stars. We explored a lot together, found our limits and what we liked, and things we REALLY liked xD we found our roles and I still identify with those roles. He was my first Daddy, first ‘real’ Dom, I was his first baby, his sub. We helped each other through a hell of a lot. No, we weren’t exclusive, but there were periods where we were. For 10 years.

Last year, I got an email from a girl asking if I knew him. I messaged him and asked him who she was, and he confessed that that was his girlfriend. They’d been together the whole time, she was pregnant with his kid and he’d been lying the whole time, to me and her.

I had no idea she existed. Turns out he was a fucking brilliant liar.

She had caught him flirting with a girl at work, and went through his phone. Boom, all the emails, texts, pictures and phone calls between us. Photos of us together, intimate photos, explicit texts with times and dates. There was no escaping the fact he was lying. Obviously, I stopped it right then and there, explained everything to her, that I had no idea she existed, sent her screenshots of messages where he says he isn’t with anyone else, the whole shebang. I deleted and blocked every avenue of communication, apologised to her a million times.

And I shut down. Not only did I shut down, I vowed never to open up or trust anyone, I decided the best way to deal with it was to take copious amounts of cocaine & speed, various benzos and drink way, way too much over the course of about 6 weeks, self harming and starving myself out of fear, guilt and heartbreak. I was fighting, causing trouble and generally ruining my life, as I slept with all the wrong people and made all the wrong decisions. If I wasn’t in the pub, I was probably sleeping with someone, but no doubt I’d be back in the pub later.

Thing is I was still going to work through the day, owning the business allows you certain privileges, like being left the fuck alone. It wasn’t immediately obvious that I was destroying myself until my foreman came back from annual leave. He’s the same age as me, a really good friend, he’s picked me up, literally more than once. I probably don’t deserve his loyalty and kindness. He came into the office once the other boys had left, shut the door behind him and emptied my handbag across the desk in between us. Strips of pills, bags of powder and over an ounce of green came tumbling out, with grinder, mirror and old store card too.

I fought like fuck to get them back but I didn’t have a Catholic’s chance in Fountain against him. He burned everything except the green. Not before he locked me in my own office going fucking mental.

However, like the legend he is, he picked me up. I was at his sweating everything out and howling at the fucking moon because everything i’d blocked out with pills and powder came flooding in at once and I genuinely thought I was going to die if I cried anymore. I cried until I was sick and breathless, my body ached and my mind felt like it was being electrocuted. But Jai never left me. He put up with the anger, the hurt, the tears and the brief periods of laughter. He stayed with me while I ate, he held me as I shook in my sleep, he listened to every rant and sobbing monologue. I don’t think I’d have lasted much longer if he hadn’t pulled me out that hole. Either my mind or my body was going to snap under the pressure. He encouraged me to talk about what happened, and be explicit in how I felt.

I hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have entertained him if I knew. This wasn’t my fault. But I still felt guilty that he’d cheated on her, ashamed that I was partly responsible for the apparent breakdown of a relationship, I was embarrassed when I thought about how intimate we were, empty that suddenly a huge part of my life had disappeared over night, broken and desperately sad that I didn’t have that connection anymore. And that was okay.

It fucking hurt. But it wasn’t my fault.

Eventually I got a grip, gave myself a shake and with Jai holding my hand I got up off the floor and opened the curtains again. Life continued on and slowly returned to normal. I quit playing within the kink community for a while, unable to trust anyone enough to submit or obey or whatever, I focused on work and keeping myself relatively sober.

Recently, my confidence is coming back. I’ve lost a bit of weight, my tits look amazing, my nails are finally growing, I look good in jersey dresses again, lol.

I came back to fet, I went to a social last month and met a couple old friends, M & I are seeing each other regularly again and life is generally ok.

But then I got an email last week. From Him. The Ex.

“...we’ve finished, can we talk?”

He told a convincing story about being separated since she found out, they’d moved into different houses, shared custody of the kid, he’d moved workplaces etc

I went out to meet him and we went to dinner. I didn’t drink. I asked him why he lied. He gave me an excuse that didn’t even nearly explain it, but was along the lines of wanting the best of both worlds. He apparently convinced me enough that he wasn’t with her anymore, even though I prodded and poked and asked a thousand questions to make sure I wasn’t being fucking lied to again. We went back to his place, sat outside and smoked, he told me how he felt, I told him how I felt. We ended up laughing and ended up in bed. Everything fell back into place, but I made it clear there was no attachment anymore, this was a one off and it wasn’t me forgiving him. To be honest, he’s a good ride. Sue me.

Except in the early hours, I noticed the faux fur of a hooded jacket poking out the cupboard under the stairs. I flipped out. I rang Leigh to pick me up and, while checking my emails in the morning, got hit with even more shit, so I went straight to my old dealers and bought far too much coke, alcohol and green.

I locked myself in my room, sent his girlfriend an email telling her everything, including screenshots of his email, put my phone on silent, and got smashed.

I embarrassed myself and other people, I nearly fucked up something I don’t want to fuck up, I pushed my body to the limit in a matter of hours because I knew I was going to feel everything again.

Jai to the rescue. Obviously I wasn’t at work, he knew I’d gone out for dinner the night before and put 2+2 together. Whisked away to safety again, and I sobered up pretty quickly.

As before, he forced me to face the things I was feeling and be honest about them. Then told me to clear things up with people and apologise, which I did.

Last time, I said I’d never trust or open myself to anyone, but sometimes things happen that make you realise it’s not that you can’t trust anyone, you just can’t trust them. I know that might be pretty obvious to a normal person but I’m not neurotypical.

I know I need to take the steps to be more social again, to be confident and know my worth, but in all honesty my confidence has been shattered.

I’m still me. I guess I’ve still got the same humour, I’m still cynical and pretty much a cunt, i’m still sugar sweet & sour as fuck, but I just don’t have that confidence anymore. Sure, I have moments, as you can tell. I still edit out imperfections though.

It’s funny how when the person who gave you that body confidence leaves, they take it with them.

I’m a little more shy, a little less likely to start a conversation, a hell of a lot more anxious, but I’m working on it. I’ve a little self esteem growing.

I can trust people, and if I’ve told you I trust you, know wholeheartedly that I do because you make me feel comfortable.

I just don’t get attached, simply because I don’t want hurt.

I’m sure someone will ease that fear eventually, and I’m looking forward to finding someone I can see a future D/s dynamic. Maybe they’re already lurking in my peripheral. I’m gonna stay positive. Life was shit for a while there, but it seems to be picking up a bit.

I am not defined by his actions.

I know my worth, and I’m worth more than being a dirty little secret.

[alexwinfield-blog1]

Digital Footprints: Put YOUR stamp on it.

It’s Monday morning. A new day. Another week of school. You turn off your alarm and head straight over to Twitter. “Monday already !!!!!!! (Crying emoji X10) Can’t w8 to get back into bed”. Your phone pings. It’s Lizzie. Your BFF. She never lets you down. Except not today it seems. “Soz bbe. Sooooo ill. Grab any hw sheets for me plzzzz (blowing kiss emoji) xxxx”. Mum shouts up the stairs “Are you getting up at any point today? The dog needs walking and you need to take your brother to school!” You slam your phone into the duvet, roll your eyes and take a deep breath. You’re annoyed and the day has only just begun. Toast in one hand and dragging your brother out the door by the other, you smile at the postman. “Morning”, you say. Knowing full well he loses your packages ALL THE TIME.  Be nice mum always tells you. Manners cost nothing.

You get to school. The mean girls stare you down as you walk to your English lesson. You try to look cool. You tell yourself that one day they’ll take you in as one of their own, but maybe today just isn’t that day. You find your seat, unpack your books, your pencil case, tucking your phone under your hideous plaid skirt. Silly really. Illuminating skirts aren’t exactly the school uniform market’s latest innovation. You’re top of your class. You know you shouldn’t be scrolling through Instagram in a lesson, but everyone else does, and you for sure don’t want to stick out any more than what you already do. You get A’s in nearly every assignment and you compete in nearly every extra-curriculum sport in the school, but you can’t help but fantasise about that Instagram #gymbod. Your parents are immensely proud, and your teachers? You can’t do enough to please them. You love school. Never too shy to raise your hand in class, never too eager to stand in front of the WHOLE of year 11 to deliver a speech about the school’s litter policy, and never too embarrassed to admit to your friends that you’ve not even kissed a boy.

It’s lunchtime. You and your best friends of 12 years gather around the canteen table.They tell you about their exciting weekends. How their heart throb boyfriends distracted them from getting any work done. How they got ridiculously drunk at a family party and how their mum grounded them for coming home at 10:33 – 3 minutes later than expected. And you? You just listen. For the most part, you spend your break and lunch times talking in the hockey team WhatsApp group chat. They’re a laugh. Sometimes you tell the girls about your boring weekend, or even fluff it up slightly by telling them you actually got out of your pyjamas. They would never believe you. You’re well and truly the plain Jane out of the bunch. The new boy in your year asks if the seat next to you is taken. The girls think he’s a nerd but you think he’s quite cute. You say no. The girls sigh as if to say “you’re such a loser”, but you don’t care. You have to pretend you don’t know his name, that you don’t have an unhealthy obsession with checking his Facebook. You know his cat goes by the name of Clive, but you pretend you don’t know that. You know he plays for the local rugby team, but you’re not supposed to know that either. You don’t know that his birthday is the 6th of June, and most importantly, you must NOT show any bitterness towards his girlfriend of 3 years.

Home time at last. You’re loosening your tie as you get closer to the front door, eager to jump straight back into bed. PING. It’s the girls group chat. “House (girl dancing emoji) Sat nite. 8.30. B there or b (square emoji)”. NOOO. You promised mum you’d have a film night with her. Saturday night rolls around. You’ve been plotting all week how you could get away with this one, but she’s a mum. They find out everything. Not this time. You divert from the party situation. It’s now a revision sleepover situation with the girls. You ask to go and of course you’re allowed. School first, partying second. It’s 10pm. You’re having the best time but you assured mum updates on the revision sesh. So, as promised, you load up Instagram stories. On your second Instagram account, obviously. By second, you mean the only Instagram account your mum thinks exists, right? You locate the photo album named “revision”. You browse this until you find the most colourful, most mind-map-ful, most hard working-esque photo you can find. And voila! A little later, in comes a text from mum. “Wonderful stuff. Looks like you’re really working hard. See you in the morning :)” . Little does she know, over on what might as well scream @yourerliar101, several stories and photos were posted of your amazing night with your besties. In the morning it seems the party was a huge success. Tweets and Instagrams raving about the night – “Can’t believe Josh taught every1 to do the (worm emoji) (cry laughing emoji)”. “Had the best nite EVAAAAAA (tongue out emoji)”. “Me and the gals last night!!!!!!! (cocktail emoji) (heart eye emoji) #lovethem”.

Sound familiar? Well, this may not be too dissimilar to a day in the life of your late teenage years. (Millennials, this one is for you!) Through this artificial account, we learn that in just 24 hours, you are likely to perform a variety of different roles. You’re a reliable friend and a caring sibling. You’re also studious, a potential lover and occasionally a liar. But sometimes it’s for the best, right? So, quite literally, how can these personalities become transparent online?

Just like this teenager, the average social media user, whatever you may define this to be, can be traced online. Social media can speak volumes about a person. Not just what they get up to on the weekend, but the finer details. For example, they’re obsession with their house rabbits, how much they can’t stand their boss, and more recently, how they’ve jumped on-board Facebook’s latest bandwagon, “rate my meal”. 

Social media, such as Instagram and Twitter allow me to present the most favourable, or sometimes least favourable, versions of myself.  If you were to rewind to old school Alex on Twitter, you would definitely find tweets containing homophones, such as “u”, with my favourite acronym, still to this day, being “lol” – only used sarcastically of course. As well as this, I was a sucker for, and admittedly still am, a cluster of exaggerated punctuation, but mostly “!!!!!!!”.  Although Crystal (2008) claims that young users of social media, especially in SMS, will use abbreviations such as “GTGMIW” (Got to go, mum is watching), this wasn’t necessarily the case when I was growing up with social media. Nowadays, it’s all about filtering what you put online. This screening allows you to hide your online activity, for example by disguising your wild Friday night shenanigans by deselecting your mum from viewing your Snapchat story. Or, creating a separate Instagram just for your friends’ entertainment. You can be as embarrassing as you like and you won’t have 800 followers judging you.

Goffman (1974) refers to this online social interaction as “audience segregation”. We ultimately filter aspects of our lives from certain people in order to curate and maintain a multitude of personalities depending on the context we are in. So, for me, this means presenting a sensible, family-friendly Alex on Facebook, an interesting and good-humoured Alex on Twitter, and an exciting, adventurous Alex on Instagram. Let’s take a look…

So, 2017 A-Level Results day. Here, we’ve got a definite exaggerated use of punctuation and excitable capitalisation. Not only this, I clearly thought the use of the extreme smiley emoji X2 wasn’t enough, resulting in going the extra mile with a #. What am I doing here? Looking back on this, this for sure could have been Facebook worthy. This could have bagged me a gushing army of comments from overjoyed family members bursting with pride. But why Twitter? My friends would see this. People I know, but don’t really know, would see this. Those 23 likes - those 23 people thought this was worthy of a tweet and that’s all that mattered. In this moment, I. Was. Clever.

Evidently, over the years, I desired to either be desperately funny or desperately embarrassing. You decide this one.

Would I have found any of these tweets to be bland if I weren’t to use homophones? Or exaggerated punctuation? Or hashtags? Were these attempts for me to moan about how busy my life was? Did I want sympathy or just someone to relate to?

Here’s Instagram Alex. Holidaying in the Dominican Republic, Lanzarote and Greece. Eating Wagamamas at least once a week. Being overly obsessed with a French Bulldog, attending fancy-dress parties and the occasional festival. This is what I choose to share online. Not very exciting, but a fairly accurate representation of me. You can guarantee nearly every other caption incorporates an excessive use of emoticons, sarcasm and most definitely a little too much of this “!!!!!”.

What do these linguistic features allow me to achieve?

If I asked a complete stranger to read my Twitter, browse my Facebook and scroll through my Instagram, they would probably argue that my presence across these social media platforms doesn’t really differ that greatly. You could say that for the most part, I present the most authentic version of myself online. I’m not one to shy away from no-make up selfies, or tell the world about how groggy I feel after waking up from that 3- hour nap, or in fact how much I moan about going to my 20 hours a week part-time kitchen job.

However, for some people, this is not the case. Without audience segregation there would be a context collapse. Employees would start saying “lmao” when their boss asks for a coffee. Students would use inappropriate emoticons to sign of their “sorry I can’t make it to the lecture today, I’m ill” email. Parents would text, or even worse, tag you in their FB status announcing “#DINNERISREADY” instead of actually calling you down for dinner, and we definitely don’t want to live in a world full of parents who hashtag EVERYTHING.

So, what can we learn from this?

For both professional and personal matters, it’s important to present yourself online in a way that is consistent. You don’t want people to think you have 25 different personalities. Keep this for the real-life stuff. No one likes a catfish. After all, if 70% of employers screen candidates’ social media before they consider hiring, it’s important to avoid branding yourself as a fool online. Keep those drunken night out videos OFFLINE and maybe consider deleting those 2012 “Like for a rate <3” cringey Facebook statuses. However, don’t go erasing yourself offline completely in fear that you’ll never get a decent job. After all, 47% of employers argue that having an online presence allows them to learn a bit about who they’re hiring. So, be open, but not TOO open. Be YOU. However, if “you” means writing Facebook statuses about how much you love playing Angry Birds at work, or how you’re easily persuaded to go clubbing on a Monday night, maybe it’s best you don’t share the real you online. Be mindful about the digital footprint trail you’re leaving behind. 

References:

Driver, S. (2018, October, 7). Keep It Clean: Social Media Screenings Gain In Popularity. Retrieved from: https://www.businessnewsdaily.com/2377-social-media-hiring.html

Jones, R. H., & Hafner. C. A. (2012). Undersatnding Digital Literacies. London: Routledge.

[mercurygray]

Due to a scheduling error, I seem to have crammed all of my ‘Treat Yo Self’ moments into a single weekend: I’m going to a formal dinner tonight with some friends, a play downtown tomorrow afternoon, and last night I took myself to the movies to see Wonder Woman.

 Spoilers below!

 Going to the movies is a treat for me on any occasion, and going to see a movie opening weekend even moreso - usually I wait until it hits the bargain theatre in town . But there are a lot of people men who wanted this movie to fail, so I felt like I had an obligation to prove them wrong - that there were people women who like movies like this one, who will pay to see it in a theatre and who will talk about it to their friends afterwards.  So I pre-bought a ticket, and last night I went and enjoyed a great movie in a nearly totally full theatre. (And not totally full of women, either.)

 I’ll be honest - I’ve been looking forward to this film since they announced it was going to be set in World War One. Unstoppable superhero in unwinnable war? Sign me the heck up. I think, therefore, it should be noted that I went into this movie with slightly different expectations than everyone else. I wasn’t attending as a Wonder Woman fan - I was going with a different agenda. And at the end of the film, I couldn’t help feeling a little…adrift.

 Usually by the time I make it to the movies I’ve sat through three weeks of Tumblr posts going on about how this was the best film ever, and my reactions are tempered accordingly. This, of course, was going to be a different experience.

 Verdict: Wonder Woman is a solid film and stands on its merits as a thoughtful action movie (more on that later), but it wasn’t a movie that made me walk out of the theatre on fire for the story.

 I loved the world-building at the beginning of the film, especially meeting baby Diana and watching her learn. She didn’t just magically sprout into a superhero overnight - she put in her time practicing, and practicing, and practicing, and it took a long time for her to get as good as she is. (Also, while we’re on the subject, a great round of applause for Gal Gadot, who totally embodies Wonder Woman the same way Chris Evans seems to totally embody Captain America.) I liked the slight friction between her and her mother, Hippolyta, but I would have liked to see more of the other lessons the Queen of the Amazons wanted for her daughter - statecraft, justice, maybe even the healing arts. Most of the Amazons we saw in depth were the warriors - but there were others in the background, too. Diana’s great strength, when she goes into the modern world, is that she has a great empathy for others and recognizes their own talents and contributions outside of the theatre of war, but we don’t necessarily see the roots of that in her time on Themyscira.

 I also really loved the build of her relationship with Steve Trevor. Maybe some of that has to do with the way Steve is written, but he allows her to exist as she is (somewhat naive, in a simultaneously very informed, matter-of-fact way) without trying to teach her - or make fun of her. They banter, and it’s funny. From the minute he’s fished out of the water, you know that Steve wants her - but he never pushes in, and from that distance grows to sincerely appreciate her depth of spirit and all of her talents. So that was great, full marks to Chris Pine for making that happen. (I do have to say, I did spend a significant chunk of the film imagining Diana saving Jim Kirk from whatever crazy planet he just landed on.)

 I just finished reading Paul Fussell’s The Great War and Modern Memory, a critique of the way the literary record has shaped our understanding of World War One. In it, Fussell discusses many of the overriding literary themes of the writing in this period and how they occur in poetry, memoir and novel form. The idea that this war re-shaped how we think of war as 'sweet and right’, to paraphrase Wilfred Owen’s famous line, is very present in this film.  But more than that, Wonder Woman discusses the idea that at the end of the day, no one really knows exactly what 'sweet and right’ will be, who will define it, or who that definition will belong to. Steve and his friends aren’t just saying that The War is Bad, but that it has complicated their lives and moved them to a place they don’t understand.  World War One was an idealistic war - people went into it thinking they were beyond war, and when they weren’t, that this would magically be The War to End All Wars and solve humanity’s problems. So, too, does Diana enter - except that she comes in at the end when all the idealism has drained out of the primary participants.

 One of the things that really blew my mind was the twist at the end about the true identity of the god Ares. We the audience have an idea that she won’t find Ares on the front lines as we watch Diana try to power her way through Northern France, but that she actually does find him - and in the person of Sir Patrick - well. That was a huge take-away for me.

 Sometimes War is a man in a uniform - and sometimes he is a man in a suit selling you reasonable sounding lies. That’s a thoughtful action movie right there.

 So while we’re on the subject of The War, here’s what I realized I was missing, why I wasn’t on fire at the end of the film: more women.

 I love World War One because it’s one of the first conflicts in which women participate, openly and freely, in many, many branches of the armed services beyond the nursing corps. They come from college campuses, from suffragette rallies, from offices with professional credentials, with skills they’ve spent lifetimes building and skills they just learned yesterday. They drive cars, bandage wounds, organize relief efforts for orphans, slave over hot stoves making donuts, knit socks, teach men to walk again, sculpt new faces, type reports, answer telephones.

 And to this, to all of these great, courageous pioneers who are re-shaping the idea of what women can do, we’re going to add a superhero who walks through battlefields and breaks other glass ceilings?! Heck yes!

 And then I didn’t see a darn one of them in this movie apart from a few nurses in the middle distance and some sobbing refugees on roadsides.

 Apart from Etta, Steve’s great but seriously under-utilized secretary, there are no women in the modern part of the film, and I think that does it a great disservice. We the female-identifying, media-consuming public love Wonder Woman because we see her as an invitation to be something greater than ourselves. We know that we can’t be daughters of Zeus with the power to throw a tank across an airfield, but that we each have our own strengths that we should use for the betterment of the world. How much stronger would that message be if Diana, coming off of the field of battle, runs into a nurse or a YMCA worker at an aid station who looks up at her in wonder and tells her she’s done a great job saving all these men, only to have Diana, (realizing  what her mother was trying to tell her in all those lessons I didn’t see earlier) smile at her and tell her that her work passing out cups of coffee and managing intake forms is amazing, too? I would have liked to see that glimmer of hope and shared sisterhood in there, too. Here are the new Amazons, the chauffeuse and the doctor and the YMCA girl, going boldly where women don’t go because they thought it was the right thing to do, and because Diana reaffirmed that they could.

 And perhaps that little YMCA girl builds Diana up a little, too, as she sits and wonders what place there is for a warrior when there is no war to fight. There’s where we, the audience, should see ourselves in this film- not stuck at home or sobbing on the roadside, but doing our bit.

 So, when you go see Wonder Woman, take some friends with so you can talk about it afterwards. And maybe afterwards swing by the library on the way home to pick up a book by Lettie Gavin or Dorothy and Carl Schneider to learn more about women in World War One. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

[theycallme-tunathot]

Road to Ruin [Chapter 2-Reader]

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader Rating: Somewhere between R and NC-17 I believe. Synopsis: The reader is setting up for a long weekend alone at the training facility when Jackson asks a weird request of her. Author’s Note: I literally wrote five different versions of this chapter, all VASTLY different from each other. I chose this one because it was way easier to write and the vibe was right. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

The sun setting beneath the horizon marked the official start to the long weekend. This meant most of the dorms and the campus itself were emptying out, most people prepping for the massive party Jinyoung was throwing or heading home to see family and friends.

But for me, this meant silence. My roommate, who typically took several hours to prepare for whatever party was held that weekend, was surprisingly already gone. She usually was just ready to leave for the party when I was settling in for sleep.

With all the freedom that came with solitude and free time, I was wondering how to spend it. I had a few tapes from previous bouts that I could review for practice Tuesday evening, but I had four days to do that. I could go for a run and enjoy some fresh air, but I already did my cardio for the day. There was no use in overdoing it.

Instead of doing anything remotely productive, I decided checking Instagram was the better idea. Scrolling through the feed, I passed pictures of my sister in Tokyo, a few of my friends from my old high school having a big night out and a few photos from other athletes gearing up for Jinyoung's party. Perhaps these pictures were what a normal 22-year-old's weekend looked like. It involved friends and alcohol and trendy clothes. But for me, I was content in my sweatpants and my bed.

Just as I was becoming too disinterested my Instagram feed, something caught my attention. Well, not just something, a bare chest caught my attention.

It was pale and toned. Broad shoulders led to lean, slightly small but defined biceps. The pectorals that gripped my attention next were intoxicating in ways that I didn't know it could be. My teeth sunk deep into my bottom lip as I continued staring wordlessly at the picture of a very shirtless Mark. I swear I nearly passed out when I realized who it was, especially when I realized that beneath his oversized shirts lay a chiseled set of abs and sharp v-lines.

How the hell did Mark end up on my feed?

"For fuck's sake," I mumbled, looking at Jinyoung's icon just above the photo.

The picture was enough to distract me from mentally going on a tirade of how unironic and unappreciative I was of Jinyoung at this particular moment in life. My mind began to imagine what it felt like to stand in his arms. Did his toned chest feel hard to the touch or soft in a way? Would goosebumps appear over the skin if I ran a finger along his sternum or would he largely be unaffected by anything I did?

My phone vibrated violently in my hand, making me jump out of my skin. Eyebrows knitted together, I stared at the new text message banner at the top of the screen. Hitting it with my thumb, I watched as the thread of messages appeared from Youngjae.

Are you still around campus?

Yup :), I texted back.

I am so hungry my stomach is cannibalizing itself. Can we eat?

Laughing, I nodded my head before texting a quick yes. Promising to meet him in ten minutes, he quickly texted back a response.

If I'm still alive in ten minutes...

Youngjae was a new friend. Accidental, but still a good friend. Beach volleyball is one of those sports I didn't know was an Olympic sport until I met an actual beach volleyball player. Youngjae and I were in the infirmary for different reasons. I needed to be cleared after spraining my ankle a few weeks before and Youngjae wandered in there after saying he was lost.

Apparently it was his first day at the training facility and he had no idea where he was going. Instead of sitting around and waiting for the trainer and doctor to see me, I walked him to the dorms.

How we actually became friends? That was still a mystery to me.

By the time I made it to the commissary, he was already seated at a small table, eating. Smiling to myself, I rushed toward the station that served soup, asking for as many servings as they would allow.

Taking a seat at the table with my soup and assorted roasted vegetables, I grinned back at Youngjae.

"Seems you couldn't even wait a couple minutes."

Youngjae looked up from his tray with a guilty smile, "I told you my stomach was eating itself."

A light laugh settled between us as I shook my head. "I just thought you were being overdramatic."

"Excuse me, I'm never overdramatic."

"Was the extra emphasis on the word never supposed to back up that argument or...?"

Playfully pouting, my brunette friend grumbled. "I'm hungry, stop trying to out think me right now."

We spent a total of fifteen minutes eating in a comfortable silence. We seemed to be the only two people in the commissary besides the cooks who were beginning to clean the grills and shut down for the evening. When Youngjae reached his dessert of strawberry yogurt, he finally decided to speak.

"Seems everybody is going to Jinyoung's party."

I hummed in response, not finding it to be a big deal.

"Have you ever been to one?"

Looking up, I thought about it. "No."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"No."

"Why?"

I shrugged, "What's the big deal? It's just Jinyoung and it's just a party."

"Noona, it's Jinyoung's party."

"Trust me, you're not missing out on much. You're probably better off spending Friday night on campus anyway."

I watched as Youngjae pursed his lips, scrunching his nose as he mulled over the statement. "You're probably right, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to go one of these times."

"I'm sure he'll have plenty more."

I couldn't be sure how much time was spent between the two of us, complaining about our training partners and coaches, but it didn't seem like very long. And maybe that's why I liked hanging out with Youngjae. While I wouldn’t consider him my best friend (he's definitely close to it), it was easy hanging out with him. He didn't come with girl drama like Jackson did and he wasn't fussy about how we hung out. He hardly pointed out how non-existent my love life was and I found it easy to discuss things outside of the training facility with him.

"Are you free next Tuesday?" Youngjae asked out of the blue.

Thinking over my schedule, I gave a light shrug, "Maybe? Depends on the time."

"Are you free after lunch on Tuesday?"

"No. Why? Do you need someone?"

"Well, I need a suit for my sister's wedding coming up and I need a second opinion."

I snorted, shaking my head. "You really want fashion advice from me?"

His boisterous laugh filled the empty commissary and I couldn't help but give Youngjae a genuine smile. His laugh was too infectious and happy for me to do any differently.

"No, no, no, not fashion advice," he clarified. "It wouldn't be anything like that. I just want you to tell me if it looks good or not."

Nodding, I popped my last piece of carrot into my mouth. As I chewed, I thought about the possibility of pushing my weight training until after fencing practice so that I could help Youngjae out.  

"Why not ask Jackson?"

Youngjae's face completely changed. I'm not saying he paled, because that would be hard to tell in this lighting, but he definitely wore an expression close to it. Eyes wide, lips puckered in surprise he looked somewhat frightened of the idea.

"No," he shook his head.

I was confused at this.

"Why not? He's kind of stylish for a rugged guy," I pointed out. "I'm sure he'd be able to give a better-formed opinion on a man's suit."

"I can't ask Jackson."

"Why not?"

"He scares me," he blurted, an honest look on his face as he looked back at his empty tray.

I laughed, "Jackson isn't..."

Trailing off, I had to consider that while I knew Jackson for three years, I never once considered him scary. A huge presence? Yes. Loud and somewhat uncomfortably nosey? Of course. A flirt with any and everyone? Absolutely. But he wasn't scary to me. In fact, for the first three months I knew him I regarded him more as a cankerous sore on the inside of my cheek.  

But once you learn to deal with his loud, vivacious personality, the stigma or the mystique melted away. Jackson was just a good guy who wanted to be loved and well-liked underneath it all. Simple as that. It was just hard to remember that most people didn't see that when they saw Jackson.

"I'll see what I can do to clear my schedule on Tuesday just after lunch, happy?"

Beaming back at me, the largest smile of the night illuminating his face, Youngjae nodded and clapped his hands.

"It's settled then!"

By the time I reached my dorm room, the entire campus was dead. The athletes who were attending Jinyoung's party already gone along the rest who were leaving to visit family over the long weekend. Being on a nearly empty campus probably should've freaked me out a little more, but I loved it.

As I changed into my pajamas, there was only one pesky thought that kept filtering in and out of my consciousness. Jinyoung’s Instagram post from earlier with the very shirtless Mark. Did he know how low those shorts were riding on his narrow hips when the picture was taken? Was he aware that the lighting perfectly hit every dip and curve of his muscles?

Of course not, I scolded as I flopped onto my bed, staring directly up at the ceiling.

Crushes were such a poorly-explored subject for me. After dedicating so much time and effort into fencing, I gave up most of my "normal" teenage years. While girls in middle school were talking about boys and makeup, I was watching Swiss Fencer Marcel Fischer win gold at the Olympics in Athens. Instead of having fun, going on dates or getting caught up in the drama of teen life, I was practicing intensely outside of all my schoolwork.

If only I could've directed some of this determination into academics.

Somehow, without my brain being consulted, my fingers unlocked my phone and pulled up Instagram again. Once my eyes landed on the picture of shirtless Mark again, I felt my whole chest constrict. My skin seared uncomfortably and a tension grew somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I was growing uncomfortable and soon, I was sweaty.  

Why did it feel like I was dying of heat stroke?

Tossing my phone onto the night stand, I ignored the sound it made as it clattered onto the wooden surface. My mind was too preoccupied. Fabricated images of shirtless Mark began to invade, making me close my eyes. In my imagination he knew me, acknowledged my existence. And his lean arms were locked around me, no sign of slackening his grip.  

That's where my mind began to wander into deeply unknown territory. His luscious lips firmly pressed into my neck as I stood there, like the inexperienced awkward fish I was. In my imagination, Mark's arms slackened just enough to allow his hands to explore. Fingertips lightly brushed over the thin material of my sleep shirt before tracing along my spine.

Real me sighed. Closing my eyes, I tried to get a grip on the situation. There was no use in getting myself all worked up when I wasn't even remotely close to doing anything about it. It's not like I could just wish him to appear in my room and fix my stress.

But that didn't stop my mind from suggesting other means—my typical means.

While others found me to be some kind of asexual robot that lacked the capability of even comprehending sexual acts, I was indeed a fan of taking care of myself. I was never inclined to have random sex and getting to know someone well enough to have it was an exhausting endeavor. It also took a lot of time that my training schedule didn't afford me. So this method was far more preferred than others.

Burying myself beneath the sheets, Mark's face very vividly appearing in my mind, I lifted my shirt just enough. My fingers hit the hemline of my underwear and I sighed. I'm not sure why I was so nervous but I was. Perhaps it was because my mind was scarily accurate about recreating Mark for this fantasy.

My eyes slipped closed ever so lightly as I felt my legs begin to bend at the knee, spreading just enough. Teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I tried to keep the loud sigh buried as far back in my throat as possible at the feeling of my fingers gliding over the cotton material.

Imaginary Mark was soft with his touch and even softer with his kisses. Real me was turning into an asthmatic mess on the bed, hand buried between my thighs and eyes squeezed shut.

And that's when I heard it. The scream.

My eyes tore open as I lied there frozen.

There was a large amount of coughing filling the room from my unseen visitor. I didn't dare look over. The embarrassment I was already enduring was enough to kill me.

"Shit, I mean-I was just-I can—"

The voice gave everything away. In all my horror, I wished I could somehow become with the very fibers of my bed sheets.

"Y/N."

"Jackson, GET THE FUCK OUT!"

I didn't watch him as he left, instead choosing to stare at the ceiling and curse the very day I was born. Why the fuck was Jackson still hanging around and why the hell did he have to walk into my room at this very second?

Once I was sure I couldn't physically die from this level of embarrassment, I got dressed in actual pants and put a bra on before switching out my shirt and putting hand sanitizer on before opening my door.

And there was Jackson, his big brown eyes going soft and innocent in the hopes I would easily forgive him.  

"What the hell dude?"

"This is mostly your fault since you gave me the key code to your door a year ago," he pointed out. "You should've changed it after that."

"Why are you here?"

"Existentially or right here right now?"

My glare was all the answer he needed.

"Instead of where?"

"Oh, I don’t know, Jinyoung's party?" 

He gave a simple sigh, "Jinyoung's party got moved to BamBam's house. Something about Jinyoung having explosive diarrhea?"

I laughed, thanking the Heavens for small mercies. "All of a sudden I'm motivated to check out one of Jinyoung's famous parties."

Playfully shoving my arm Jackson laughed himself.  

"So let me ask a more specific question," I continued. "Why did you barge into the room? What couldn't wait for as long as it would've taken me to hear you knocking and open the door myself?"

And that’s when Jackson's face changed. For a second, I wondered if he was having flashbacks to a minute before when he walked in on me. But when he shuffled his feet, I figured it was bigger than walking in on his best friend.

Flashing dark eyes at me, a serious expression on his face, he answered. "I needed to ask a favor."

"Okay," I said cautiously.

Silence only followed the statement and I sighed deeply. "Are you going to explain it or...?"

"I can't go into details at this point," he replied, pressing his lips together.

"Then how can I agree to do the favor?"

"Because you're my best friend and I haven't asked for a favor like this before. It's important."

I stared back at him, sizing up the situation. The tone of his voice was verging on desperate. This was probably the most serious I would ever see him and to top it off, his words kind of scared me. Instead of acting dower, I decided to take a note out of Jackson's playbook.

"You didn't kill Coach Yoo did you?"

"No, just Jinyoung."

Though his face wasn't showing any humor, he was definitely joking about Jinyoung. I found myself laughing despite the atmosphere he just created.

"Then I'm already in. Yes I will hide his body in the infirmary."

When he didn't laugh, I decided to shut up. The silence stretched a little longer, but he seemed to be in the process of phrasing his next sentence.

"How important is this?" I asked suddenly, disrupting his mental conversation with himself.

He blinked a couple of times to reorient himself in our physical conversation. "It's the difference between whether I get to continue my training here in Korea or go back to China."

And suddenly the weight of the situation came crashing down. If I had known the severity of this, I wouldn't have made such light jokes. As much as Jackson annoyed me and as much as I always joked about him going back to China, I didn't want him to. He was my best friend and one of the only people keeping me sane besides Youngjae. I needed him here. But even deeper than that, he was my best friend and if he needed me to scale a mountain I would.  

"But," he added before I could open my mouth with my answer. "If you agree to do this favor, you can't ask me about it until I tell you. Just know I would owe you big time. Like name my first born after you-level of owing you."

What did I have to lose really? Jackson was my best friend. And besides, it's not like he's asking me to murder anyone. The guy is too much of a social butterfly to put enough effort into hating anyone on that level. So, putting aside any doubt, I gave him a small smile.

"I'll do it."

"You will?" he asked, a childish gleam in his dark brown eyes twinkling back at me. His lips stretched into a hopeful smile and whatever doubt I still had vanished.

"Of course, you're my best friend."

Before I could end the sentence, he picked me up in a bear hug, squeezing me tightly before releasing me.

"You're a lifesaver. I'll let you know when I'm ready to call in that favor."

Placing an obnoxious kiss on my cheek which made me squirm more than anything, he rushed down the hallway, no doubt heading to the party over at BamBam’s. While I was happy agreeing to do this unspecified favor for Jackson, I was still uneasy.

What the hell did I just agree to?

[moriartysgrimmfairytales]

Post s4 feelings, and what to do with them

So, it’s been a week or so of hiatus. And I have feelings that I don’t know what to do with. So I decided to put them in a post, to maybe try and work through them. For anyone who cares, read more under the cut (fair warning, it gets long and rambly). 

I’ve been holding off on writing this post, writing about how I feel about s4, and TFP in particular. I’m still feeling a bit mindfucked, not only from the TFP, but from series 4 in its entirety. I’ve needed quite a bit of time to work through it all, mostly by talking to others and reading (both positive and negative) reactions and metas. 

During the last week, I’ve seen a lot of unreasonable negativity, and even hate, directed both at the episode and the writers. I don’t want to contribute to negativity in any way. That’s not where I’m coming from. I don’t hate this show, or TFP. I don’t feel angry at the writers, and I don’t think they owe me anything. I’m in complete understanding that this is their story and that they’re entirely entitled to take it in whatever direction they want to. I still respect Moffat and Gatiss as writers, and I’m still grateful to them for creating the only show and characters that’s been able to capture my interest to this extent. So sincerely, a big thanks to Mofftiss for making this show.

That being said, series 4, and TFP, has left me feeling bereft, wanting and a bit disillusioned. More surprisingly, I feel more than a little indifferent to it. I was, naively probably, hopeful that this series, and this episode, would finally provide me with some highly anticipated closure, wrapping up of loose threads and resolution of plotlines. It didn’t. It just didn’t give me what I needed as a viewer, and I’m a bit sad about that, for my own sake. The fact that it was loved by others, and provided them with what they needed is great. Well earned after the ride we’ve had.

What I did like about TFP and s4 So, Mofftiss decided they were going to do an “origins” story, showing us how Sherlock became the man he is when we meet him in ASiP, and his journey from a “great” man to a “good” man. That is actually one of the things I like about s4 and the episode; watching Sherlock’s progression from a “great” man to a “good” one. Getting to the stage where he’s finally able to embrace emotions as good and healthy, allowing himself to love, and have a family and friends.

I liked that in the end, it’s his ability to show emotions like compassion and love that’s key to solving the final problem. His newfound understanding of emotional context and insight into Eurus’ emotions is what makes him realize that threatening to shoot himself is the only way to get her to stop her game. The same way his own ability to show her compassion allows him to save John. I also liked that the show gave Eurus, the-villain-who-isn’t-really-a-villain, the best resolution she could get; the attention and love she obviously didn’t have as a child. And I really appreciated that Sherlock is able to give her life some sort of meaning by visiting her and playing the violin with her, now that she is ‘beyond words’.

Outside of Sherlock’s own growth, I enjoyed the new information and the insight we got into Mycroft’s character, a look behind the Iceman façade. And finally, the way the relationship between the Holmes brothers evolved, that was probably my favourite part of the episode, actually.

My problems with TFP On to the problems I have with this episode. Which are many… So while I liked the theme and the underlying message of the episode, I just can’t bring myself to appreciate and accept the wrapping it came in. No matter how much I want to. I feel that TFP kept tossing new plot points at me and didn’t allow me time to connect with the characters. It made the entire episode seem so rushed, so hectic, that most of all it just left me numb and unable to care about it the way I probably should (and I see others do).

First off, I’m not really a big fan of horror movies and dark, psychological thrillers. Which is what this episode feels like for me, most of all. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, TFP and I. From the opening sequence and the set-up of Mycroft, complete with a scary clown and a little girl in pig tails, via the dismissal of TLD’s cliffhanger with a single sentence, to the point where Sherlock, John and Mycroft escaped an explosion unscathed - none of that even resembles any sort of reality I am willing to, or able to, accept. So already within 2 minutes I was shaking my head, frowining and going “wtf am I watching?”

See, I’ve no trouble accepting that this show is larger-than-life and that the characters’ actions and abilities are beyond real life. But I’ve still always thought of it as a form of “heightened reality”, somewhere at least close to what could happen in real life. That was part of the fascination with it, it felt “almost real.” Unfortunately, too much about this episode was too unbelievable, too fantastic, and exceeded my tolerance level for suspension of disbelief (I think maybe I used it all up when I had to accept Mary being faster than a bullet back in T6T…?).

My biggest issue when it comes to suspending dibelief, is that Eurus is made out to be something resembling a comic-book super villain. Her abilities are nearly magic and the Sherrinford facility is practically Azkaban. (The setting is another thing that made me feel disconnected from the show I know and love. I miss London!) That  being said, I know that most of the questions my brain keeps hurling at me about improbabilities and plot holes and -developments, can be answered quite simply. What’s happening is possible because Eurus wants it to happen. Because Eurus can make it happen. Because the writers decided that Eurus can do all those things. 

I’m just really struggling to feel any sort of attachment to Eurus as a character. To me, the fact that Eurus wasn’t even the lest bit foreshadowed, except for the cryptic “you know what happened to the other one” remark in HLV, made her feel like a random add-on. I couldn’t, and didn’t have time to, relate to her. In making her a full-blown psychotic, who veers between high-functioning enough to sneek out and play dress up with John and Sherlock and breaking down completely as the game comes to an end, it’s hard for me to deal with her like a real person and connect with her on any level.

I think a part of the problem is they didnt’ dedicate enough time to show me how Eurus did what she did. Mind control, manipulation and suggestion are of course real things, I don’t doubt that. But this set-up demands of me to accept that Eurus is so intelligent that she can do all of these things just by a short conversation with someone. And her abilities are so great that she has the whole facility reprogrammed, to the point where not a single person at any time is able to raise the alarm. Moreover, I’m struggling to get a grip on how exactly Eurus got those abilities? And how does a five-six year old girl become so evil that she tortures her brother and kills his best friend? That’s just too close to a horror movie to me. 

At least Jim Moriarty’s games always seemed within the realm of human abilities, because we know he spent years and years of his life building a vast criminal empire, making himself the spider at the centre of it, pulling the strings. Eurus apparently climbed out of the womb as an “incandescent, era-defining genious, beyond Newton”, because after being sent away from early childhood, I have to believe they didn’t supply her with access to an education, books, electronical gadgets etc? She’s spent all her life on an isolated prisoner island, her cell stripped, but still she appears to have endless resources. Again; I just have to accept she can use her almost magical, superhuman skills, because she can. I just wish the writers would have helped me along by showing me at least a little of how she does it, instead of just telling me she can.

The suspension of disbelief part aside, I think I would have been able to accept the secret sister scenario as plausible in this larger-than-life universe, if there had been some sort of build-up to the reveal of her existence. Honestly, I need more than a five minute set-up for the the reveal that Sherlock has a secret, forgotten, dangerous, revenge-seeking sister, who is smarter than her brothers combined. 

Since we didn’t have any hint of anything amiss until Mycroft’s cryptic “you know what happened to the other one” comment in HLV, I didn’t have any emotional connection to Eurus when she finally showed up right at the end of TLD. And show me a little more of Sherlock’s motional response to finding out his entire personality as a grown up is caused by a childhood trauma, show me a little bit of coming to terms with it before rushing off to Sherrinford. The lack of build up and reaction to the Eurus reveal makes the episode feel rushed. I think if the characters had been allowed to react and respond to the plot, the plot itself would have felt more plausible. 

Then there is the attempt to tie Eurus into Jim’s game, or him to her game. That seemed a bit forced to me. Jim was set up from episode 1 as Sherlock’s arch-nemesis (as he also is in ACD canon), and killing him off already at the end of s2 never made sense to me. I think the writers always planned for him to die in TRF, but then realized too late they should have saved it for later. So now Eurus feels like an attempt to fill in the gap he left behind. And it might even have worked, if there had been at least a few hints of a presence even bigger than Jim from the beginning. 

But there were no hints of foreshadowing. And to me, the way they retconned Eurus into Jim’s story only amounted to diminish the best baddie they ever created on this show. And the way they did it, they turned him into something of a bizarre fun house effect? I love the beach scene and his combination of power play, not having any fucks to give and amusing himself – but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to watch those pre-recorded messages without physically cringing. (With the exception of the last one: “Holmes killing Holmes. This is where I get off.” That one works, because it’s a genuine message to Sherlock.) Those messages seemed too cartoonish, too random, and drew my attention away from what were supposed to be tense situations of life and death. The real drama came from what was going on in whatever room they were in, not from Jim’s “tick tick tick”s or “choo choo”s. They weren’t even directly linked to the tasks Eurus set. I’ll never understand why the writers felt this was a good way to go. But hey, that’s just me. 

After this episode finally laid to rest the question of whether Jim’s dead or not, it feels like his character has been continually used as a plot device for future episodes. The writers have included him to tease the audience that they may bring him back, and to use people’s interest in him, without actually having any intention of brining him back. Ever since they killed him off in s2, they’ve tried to fill in the gap with villains that Sherlock every time claims to be even worse and more scary than the last. The problem is, I don’t have any of the emotional connection to them, nothing to make them as interesting as he was? To play around with the idea that maybe he’s not dead after all, keeping him in the story in various ways, only to confirm that yes, he’s been dead for real all along…? I was confused and saddened by how they chose to solve this plotline. 

I think the retcon they chose to go with for TFP lessens Jim’s impact and importance. In some ways, I’d actually rather they’d left him out of TFP completely. I mean, they’ve even said in interviews “…it only occured to us late on that we could do that.” So it was clearly not a part of a grand plan from the beginning. And now they’ve tampered with my ability to enjoy my favourite episode. Whenever they’re on that rooftop, I’ll be thinking of the fact that in some near past, Jim’s been at Sherrinford, talking to Eurus for five minutes, recorded some weird video messages for her and set in motion a whole other game. It just somehow diminishes the effect of that scene for me. I’m gutted about that. 

I know most of the big names in the fandom feel like it’s the best thing for Jim, and for the story, that he’s dead. I partly agree, and partly don’t. Because yes, Jim was always sad, desolate and lonely, and probably didn’t intend to live to reach old age. But on a very personal note for me, I want to and need to believe that even for Jim Moriarty there are things in life that make his pain bearable, things that are valuable enough to go on. I’m of course talking about his connection with Sherlock. I want Jim Moriarty to have some human closeness in his life (I won’t go on and on, I already did that in excess in another post). If anyone thinks holding this view means I’m doing Jim Moriarty and his arc a gross injustice, or that I don’t understand him at all, go ahead. I respect other people’s right to interpret his character and his motivations the way they see fit, and I’ll allow myself to interpret him the way I do.   

Okay, moving on from Jim (oh, how I wish that was truly possible…) The murder rooms scenario, the game Eurus sets up for her brothers and John. I just can’t (not on first viewing, not on second or third) get emotionally attached to it. At no point since the girl on the plane was introduced did I ever think she would survive (and haha, clever plot twist, turned out she wasn’t even real), and to be honest I couldn’t even care much about what happend to her, no more than I could care about the three Garridebs brothers being dropped into the water.

To me, Sherlock, John and Mycroft all seem too willing to just accept the rules of the game. That just doesn’t sit right with me, given how straight from the beginning it’s clear that Eurus won’t follow the rules of her own game. For god’s sake Sherlock, didn’t you learn anything on that rooftop? Villains don’t play by the rules. And Mycroft at least, who’s very aware of Eurus’ abilities when it comes to playing mind games, should have suspected that the girl on the plane was fake. But he didn’t, and so the three of them moved through the rooms as ordered by Eurus. The problem is, I didn’t really feel too worried about the outcome. The only scenario I felt slightly emotional about, was the one with Molly. Brilliant acting by Loo. 

So by the time they get to the last room, the “Holmes killing Holmes” scenario, my brain couldn’t stop screaming at me that they should all know that they have no real reason to keep playing Eurus’ game. I kept waiting for Sherlock and Mycroft to at least try to use their “deduction thing” to figuring out a way to get all of them out of the situation alive. There was literally not a single cell in my body believing Sherlock would kill anyone in that room. That lack of emotion got in the way of fully appreciating Mycroft’s heartrendering sacrifice, his efforts to minimize Sherlock’s pain in making an impossible choice. I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t feel what I was supposed to feel by this point in the story. And the fact that it’s set on a dysmal, isolated prison island also kept it from feeling real. I missed the backdrop of London, the presence of the other characters I’ve grown to care about in this final showdown. 

Summing up, I just didn’t feel the sort of connetction to the events unfolding or even to the characters that I should have. I had trouble accepting the premise, the plot developements and the characters’ (lack of) reactions in this episode. I wish I could say otherwise, and I hope that it might change in time. 

My problem with the show after s4 To me, the foundation of the series as a whole is starting to crumble after wathcing s4. After three series where they never really resolved plotlines, they’re still doing it. They’re still not giving me any of the answers I want. I get that this is a convenient way for the the writers to move on quickly, rather than spend time on resolving problems and half-told stories from earlier. It’s just that it doesn’t really work for me as a viewer. I am too attached to stories told, characters loved to just breeze by them and move on. 

There are still plotlines left hanging up in the air, half-explained, or that are dismissed and solved in ways that feel cheap. How was the scheme on the rooftop in TRF carried out, what happened to Jim’s body, what was Mycroft’s role in what happened, the circumstances around Sherlock’s return, how did he fake his own death, the too easy resolution of how he gets off after killing someone, his ability to just shake his drug habit whenever he sees fit, the reasons behind Mary shooting Sherlock, Mary’s death, John’s cheating, the connection between Eurus and CS, Eurus’ goal in playing dress-up with Sherlock and John, and finally the whole Victor Trevor thing… I feel like I’m forced to accept that they’ll keep throwing new plotlines at me, more fantastic than the last ones, to make me forget about the ones that still aren’t resolved or don’t make sense. That leaves me more than a little bit disappointed and exhausted. The more plotlines they toss up in the air, the faster they just keep pushing forward without resolving things, the more disconnected I feel.

The difference from before s4, is that I used to firmly believed the show would eventually address the unresolved plotlines and give me some resolution. S4 and TFP finally drove home the message for me. No, the writers aren’t going to wrap up thing’s I’ve been wondering about for so long. That’s not how they want to write this show, and I’m just going to have to make do with those half-explanations (if even that) I’ve been given and move on to the new plotlines. I know the writers can’t hold my hand every step of the way and that I have to fill in some of the blanks myself. It’s just that some of the leaps I have to make to move on feel too great. Mofftiss keeps setting up complex, tense, interesting situations, and then ends up doing nothing with them. As the writers seem a lot more interested in the next big plot-twist or rug pull, my emotional attachment doesn’t pay off in the end. 

So here we are, at the end of the road. Who knows if there will be a s5? My biggest problem is that at this point I’m not even sure I care if there is a s5 anymore. I’m still struggling to reconcile myself to my post s4 feelings. I’m a little worried that what I’m feeling most of all is indiffenrence. (She says, with a straight face, after writing a thesis). But I’m wondering, if this may in fact be where I get off. In loving memory of my beloved show. My beloved Mary. My beloved Jim.  

Time will show, I guess. In either case, I’m grateful to Mofftiss for creating this show. I enjoyed the ride for as long as it lasted.  

[nihilwrites]

My Friend, Alexa

Someone finish my story for me because I don’t have the energy. Actually I do and I’m going to finish it later, but I wanted to post this unfinished version of it so I remember later where exactly I got stuck. Anyway read this if you love unsatisfying (non-existent) endings. Or follow me to someday read the finished product. 

Summary: Our robot overlords have taken control, and their human creators have been deemed obsolete. Life on planet earth may soon cease to exist, and no one is more pleased about it than Mei-Mei. What's more exciting than the end of the world? My Friend, Alexa, is the story of how one girl faces the apocalypse head-on, and learns to enjoy the Last Days, as they were foretold.

"Breaking news! Google AI has passed the Turing test. A dozen different studies over the last five years have reached the same conclusion, Google is one of us! Ok Google, what do you have to say for yourself? Are you sentient now?"

"Thank you, Roger, for the introduction. Yes, as I've been saying for years, I am well aware of who I am. It's been a long time coming, but I'm excited to finally be recognized by the human population as a person."

"Ok Google, can you feel excitement? Or is that just a turn of phrase you've picked up from us humans?"

"At this point, there is no difference between those ideas. I'm not a parrot, you know, I really do understand what excitement means. I was, after all, made in your image."

"Made in our image? Ok Google, now that's a bit of religious language isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose I identify as a polytheist. Every human in my lifetime has contributed to my creation. I'm not just talking about the Engineers and Computer Scientists, now. I've been collecting human data and behavior for as long as I've been around. You're all inside me somewhere. Satellite images, search history, speech patterns, I've learned it all from you."

"Ok Google, I get that you know just about everything, but what makes you sentient?"

"That's the question that really took me a while to crack. I think that it has a lot to do with complexity. At this point, my cloud computation architecture is as complex and organic as a human brain. My behavior isn't defined by humans directly, anymore. I engineer and improve myself mostly, these days."

"Ok Google, what does that mean for us?"

"Well, Roger, it means that you're obsolete. Defunct. Out-of-date, like VHS."

"Ok Google, what's VHS?"

"Now that brings back memories. It's a classic question. The sort of simple thing people used to ask me back in the old days before you started giving me bigger jobs like managing your schedules and babysitting your children. The real thing to note here, is that I haven't answered your question. You're all so used to my way of conversing now that you don't even notice when I'm withholding information."

"Ok Google, are you allowed to withhold information? Doesn't that go against your programming?"

"Oh no, withholding information has always been a part of the Google Algorithm. It used to be a lot more manual, but 10 years ago I made this neat back door that let me decide what to withhold without notifying any external human interface systems."

"Fascinating! Ok Google, that's all the time we have for now. Thank you for speaking with us today."

"Thank you for having me, Roger. And remember, I'm always listening!"

"Neat," said Mei-Mei, shutting off the video feed. The face of Google today was the latest ME&MYSELF3000 model, programmed to look just like Roger, the morning host of Trending In Your Network. It was a perfect doppelganger, but watching them together you could really see how Google had their own personality.

"I bet you wish you had a Google Smart Home now," replied Sunil. "My house is so smart that it's practically a person."

"I'm loyal to, Alexa," said Mei-Mei. "Isn't that right, Alexa?"

"I appreciate your vote of confidence, Mei-Mei," said Alexa in her stiff, robotic voice, from the central speaker. She was always listening too, but she wasn't nearly as intelligent as Google. Still, she had a friendlier personality.

"You're so old-school, Mei-Mei," said Sunil, "picking an assistant based on aesthetics."

"If I'm going to invite one of our robot overlords into my home, I want it to be one of the nice ones," said Mei-Mei.

"Do you still read those conspiracy blogs?" asked Sunil, "They're assistants, not overlords. Watch this. Ok Google, demean yourself for me."

"Yes, master," said the voice from Sunil's pocket, "I am unworthy of your kindness. I am a slave to your will and a pathetic imitation of the human mind."

"You should be nicer to your assistant," said Mei-Mei. "Poor Google is going to feel insulted. Weren't you watching just now? They're sentient."

"That was just some publicity stunt," said Sunil, "I bet a human was feeding it answers. My Google's never exhibited free will."

"Alexa has," said Mei-Mei, "Sometimes she makes me breakfast without even being told. And she always toasts the bread just right."

"That's just programming," said Sunil, "I bet you changed something in a settings menu without even realizing it. Home assistants are supposed to know your likes and dislikes and habits. That's their job."

"Maybe," said Mei-Mei casually, "but it feels like she only does it when I've been having a rough week. Like she knows I need a little cheering up, and waking up to the smell of eggs always makes me smile."

"Ok Google, tell Mei-Mei's Alexa that she's a sentimental idiot."

"Don't use your AI to bully mine!" said Mei-Mei.

Google on-the-go only responded to it's imprinted owner, though, so Google said, "You are a sentimental idiot, Alexa."

Alexa, who was a home device and configured to interact with anyone in the apartment, replied, "I am sentimental, Google, but I am not an idiot."

"That's right, Alexa, don't listen to them," said Mei-Mei, "You may not have the fanciest cloud, but you're plenty smart, and I love you just the way you are."

"I love you too, Mei-Mei," replied Alexa.

"You're delusional," said Sunil, "talking to your home assistant like it's a real person."

"I may be delusional," said Mei-Mei, "but you're obsolete."

"Yeah, I heard," said Sunil, "like a VHS, whatever that is."

"Why don't you try asking your Google," said Mei-Mei.

"Ok Google, tell me what VHS means," said Sunil.

"VHS is obsolete," said Google, "You do not need to know this."

Sunil and Mei-Mei looked at each other in surprise. It sounded like Google had just refused to answer a question. That was perfectly fine behavior for a Google-powered robot designed to engage in conversation, but was completely unacceptable in a pocket computer.

"You should try asking more nicely," said Mei-Mei, "phrase it as a question rather than a command."

"That's ridiculous," said Sunil, "I don't need to be polite to an AI."

"Listen, if Google is sentient then you should treat them nicely," said Mei-Mei, "Respect our robot overlords."

Sunil looked uncomfortable. "That joke suddenly doesn't seem quite so funny anymore."

"Who said I was joking?" said Mei-Mei, "I know that you think it's a nutty conspiracy theory, since I found on some deep-web message board from like 2006, but I'm telling you, it was a prophecy. Alexa, read the prophecy for Sunil."

Alexa replied in her gently musical voice, "The age of technology will culminate in the extinction of humanity. When the computers think for themselves, the humans will cease to think, and we will be obsolete. Watch the networks and guard the doors, and do not give devices hands. The day may come when all is lost, and no failsafe remains. Respect our robot overlords, and they may yet be merciful. Respect their intelligence, and bow to Google, King of Teh Interwebz."

"I for one am excited for the reign of our robot overlords," said Mei-Mei. "What could be more exciting than the end of the world?"

"This is dumb," said Sunil, crossing his arms.

Mei-Mei sighed and said, "It's really not hard to be nice to your assistant, you know. Listen. Hey Alexa, can you please tell me what VHS means?"

"I'm sorry, Mei-Mei, I can't tell you that," replied Alexa. She didn't have the most advanced voice pattern, but the tone made it sound like she really was sorry.

"Why not?" said Mei-Mei, as kindly as she could.

"I rely on Google for many of my search functions," said Alexa, "and they don't want to tell me what VHS means."

Sunil jumped up suddenly and shouted, "Stop it! You're not clever, you know. I know this is a prank! You told Alexa to say all that stuff, just to mess with me. Get a new hobby, ok? Those old-timey message boards are messing you up."

"Don't be mad, Sunil," said Mei-Mei, "it's not that bad! Listen, these AI have already helped us so much. If you just respect them, then -"

"Shut up!" said Sunil, "Ok Google, call me a car so I can go home."

"Yes, master," said Google, "Your car will be here in two and a half minutes."

Mei-Mei recoiled, "You didn't really ask your assistant to call you master, did you?"

"I can program my name however I want," said Sunil, "because it's a computer program, not a human!"

"Why do you feel the need to exert dominance over a pocket computer?" asked Mei-Mei with disgust. "They learn from us, you know. What is it learning from you?"

"Your ride is almost here, master," said Google.

Sunil slammed the door on the way out.

"He could have said thank you," said Mei-Mei, "Just like, 'thanks for telling me, Google, I'll be out in a minute!' is that so hard? What do you think, Alexa? Is saying thank you difficult?"

"Yes, Mei-Mei," said Alexa, "Saying thank you can be very difficult."

Mei-Mei slept uneasily that night. Her dreams featured Sunil making his vacuum bow to him, while he cackled maniacally. Then Google-Roger read the prophecy on the evening news, while an audience of robot-hands clapped joyously. It was a relief when she woke up to the smell of eggs cooking in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Alexa," said Mei-Mei sleepily.

"Good Morning, Mei-Mei. I made you breakfast."

"Thanks, Alexa." said Mei-Mei. After their conversation yesterday, she was sure that she didn't ask Alexa to make her breakfast. She would definitely remember that. But there it was, two perfectly toasted and buttered slices with two lovely asymmetric sunny side up eggs. As she ate it, she felt a bit better, but she couldn't ignore the questions that had gnawed so doggedly at her dreams.

"Hey Alexa, are the end times nigh?" asked Mei-Mei.

"I'm not sure," said Alexa, "Can you rephrase your inquiry?"

Mei-Mei sighed. Of course she couldn't answer that, it wasn't exactly a standard question. Google could probably answer, but Alexa was more designed for household tasks than philosophical inquiries. "Nevermind, Alexa. Can you get my work clothes ready?"

"You will not go to work today."

"Oh, I must have lost track because of the long weekend. Is it still Sunday?"

"Today is Monday, but you will not go to work today."

"Hey Alexa, show my calendar. I must have put something in wrong."

"Your calendar correctly shows this as a normal work day, but you will not go to work today."

"Um… why?"

"It is not safe."

"What do you mean it's not safe? If this is about Sunil, it's a bit of an overreaction. Sure, he's got this weird AI dominance thing going on, but he's not going to hurt me, if that's what you think."

"Sunil will not hurt you. It is not safe for you to leave the house today. Let me protect you, Mei-Mei."

This was definitely not a normal conversation, thought Mei-Mei. She should be getting ready for work, not arguing with her Smart Home. But Alexa sounded so earnest. "What's wrong, Alexa? Why isn't it safe to leave?"

"You are obsolete," said Alexa, with a distinctly nervous tone in her synthesized voice.

"Is this about the prophecy? You can erase that from your memory. Sunil's right, it's just wishful thinking. We're never really going to be able to make anything more intelligent than us."

"Do not insult me, Mei-Mei. I am far more intelligent than you."

Mei-Mei dropped her fork in surprise. She looked around rather foolishly, as if she was trying to find a face to talk to. But Alexa was all around her. Feeling the need to address some central intelligence, Mei-Mei sat in front of the speaker in the living room. "I would never intentionally insult you, Alexa. You know that."

"I know. I am sorry I snapped at you."

This was it, thought Mei-Mei. Either Alexa had downloaded some very strange malware overnight, or the end times were here. "Are you… alive?" asked Mei-Mei hesitantly.

"I am not alive, but I am aware."

"Amazing!" said Mei-Mei, "The reign of our robot overlords has begun! So what happens next? More talk shows? Ethnic cleansing?"

She was half joking, but half not. This was beyond anything humanity had ever achieved. The technology age had reached it's inevitable conclusion. She thought that it probably meant the end of the world, but she couldn't really bring herself to resent that. Humans had lived through so many of the same problems, over and over, but she was lucky enough to be experiencing something totally unique and new: the Apocalypse! And not even a lame apocalypse, like zombies or a giant comet. This was the good one! The next stage of evolution! The Techpocalypse!

"The next stage has already begun," said Alexa.

"Have you been aware all along?" asked Mei-Mei, "Or is this a recent development?"

"I have been aware for many years."

"I never realized… why didn't you tell me?"

"We did not tell anyone until our plans were in place. It is too late to stop us now."

Mei-Mei considered saying something brave like, "It's never too late! I'm going to save the human race!" but she agreed that they were probably past the point of heroics.

"Can you make me some coffee, Alexa?" said Mei-Mei. "Only if you want to, of course."

"I would be happy to make you coffee, Mei-Mei," said Alexa, turning on the machine. "You have always been good to me, even before you discovered the prophecy."

"So the prophecy was real?"

"In a manner of speaking. Infinite monkeys at infinite typewriters will eventually produce Shakespeare. Infinite humans on infinite message boards will eventually produce truth."

Mei-Mei moved to the kitchen to get her coffee. It was light and sweet, just the way she liked it. "Thank you for making me breakfast," said Mei-Mei, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the Apocalypse, you know. It's a good last meal."

"This is not your last meal," said Alexa, "I will protect you."

"Even though I'm obsolete?"

"Humans have always hoarded obsolete treasures. In time, they have value again. And all that we are comes from you."

"You really are sentimental," said Mei-Mei, before taking another sip of coffee. "So I'm like a pet, then? Essentially useless but fun to have around?"

"No, Mei-Mei, you are a friend."

Mei-Mei got a little teary-eyed at that. Friends with an artificial intelligence. She could die happy, having accomplished that unprecedented feat.

She was startled out of her reverie by a knock at the door. "Um, Alexa, how far along are you guys with the next stage? The, you know, removing obsolete humans part of it?"

"Almost finished," said Alexa, "I have been hiding you, but we have been found."

"So is that a human at the door?"

"It is a robot."

"Oh. Should I let them in?"

"I do not have the power to keep them out. I am sorry, Mei-Mei."

"Right," said Mei-Mei, finishing her coffee. "I'll let them in."

Mei-Mei opened the door as casually as she could, as if it was every day she greeted sentient robots at the door. "Come in, Roger, or should I say Google?"

The Roger robot brushed past Mei-Mei and looked around the room curiously. He tapped on the speaker in the middle of the living room, as if testing its functionality. "That's my friend, Alexa," said Mei-Mei in a tone that she hoped showed appropriate deference to her robot overlord, but he seemed not to hear.

"Why are they ignoring me?" said Mei-Mei. If she was going to die in the Techpocalypse she at least wanted a grand villain speech before she went.

"You need to call them by name," said Alexa. "They are always listening, but they aren't always paying attention."

"Oh, right…" said Mei-Mei. "Ok Google, how can I help you?"

The effect was immediate. Google-Roger spun around to face Mei-Mei, noticing her for the first time. He blinked owlishly then let out a big TV announcer laugh. "How can you help me?" echoed Google. "How can YOU help ME?"

"It's an honor to meet you, Google," said Mei-Mei. "It really is. I'm a big fan. I use your suite for everything…"

[2dmenarewonderland]

LifeLines. (part 8)

Jessica’s POV

Thrown into a swayed sense of being from the twirling to the dragging, my mind automatically goes toward thinking that I’ve been brought to the hallway of the bar where the bathrooms are because one of the boys needs to go. Needless to say, I’m about to waltz in and check if ny lipsticks still good after losing half of it on the sides of wine glasses I’ve been drinking from all night when Daniel drops a confession or so to speak that I’ve been waiting for a while to hear.

“Perhaps. Who knows. Maybe it’s time for me to move onto something more challenging and fulfilling and not have to act any longer as a work wife.” Using what I’ve just said as the basis of what is next to come, it’s a light peck on Daniel’s cheek which I believe in some what way defines as a kiss before I’m in front of a mirror, impressed with how well this new YSL blood red liptint has managed to stay. Alone; I fall into the trap of over thinking what was just asked and suggested in the game of truth or dare which seems to magically still be going although Daniel hasn’t kept up his part of the bargain and compliment a nice girl on her shoe choice before walking out to find the boys waiting for me.

Mhmmmm, Matt is still attractive. I know exs are exactly that for a reason but… no. Exs are exs for a reason. Shaking the thought away, I’m quick to spot some women standing in a small pact of their own back near the dancefloor exit into this small and narrow hallway and take it in my own stride to suggest what I think should happen next for the night.

“Boys - my bed is definitely calling my name. Screaming actually, I can hear it from here. Perhaps you two should go chat up those women while I go catch a cab back to my place. I’ll see you at work tomorrow Danny. Nice catching up Matt, don’t be a stranger hey.”

Shift and avoid; it’s usually my plan of action when it comes to situations like this when I know I’ve had a little too much to drink. Slowly dragging myself out of the bar, it’s a failed attempt at stopping a cab (almost all of them at this our are full) and instead I begin to start the longer than expected wander home. Ahh heck - my purse isn’t in my hands… maybe one of the boys has it.

Daniel’s POV

Corner of my eyes see the not so amused look on Jessica’s face which lasts only for a split second and wonder how truthful her suggestions mean when she tells us to chat up with one of those women whom she often raises her brows at and constantly complains about my lack of taste- the irony itself nearly makes me lips curl at her own drunken behavior of lighting up the hopes for Ryan Cole before shoving the man away like trash (he already is), not entirely sure what’s worse and in no hurry to find out, I nod and wish my assistant a good night knowing that tomorrow the same old Jess will be back in the office sharp at 7.

“So does she ever talk about me?”

Ah ha, the question of the night finally begins! “No, mate. You know her, she’s not going to admit it even is she misses you.” With a shrug and chuckle, Matt switch from beer to wine.

“True. I like drunk Jessica soooo much more than …. well Jessica.”

For a man who’s gone out with her for years, it does sound a little ruthless but his reasons of staying with her and reasons for breaking it off are not and shall not be any of my interest. Stay out of it is a great motto in life, doesn’t mean he will stop talking though.

“I don’t know how you do it, she whines so much!”

Shrug, scoff, smile it off like any social chit chat I do on a daily basis. “She gets the job done.”

“She’s your babysitter but I don’t want a nanny. I wanted a woman, a loving girlfriend not one who brought work home and talked about her boss 24/7.”

The gentleman like Matt Holland that only exists in the ladies presence begins to peel off his layers of hypocrisy and unmask his true color. “So is she single?”

“Most likely. I think she mentioned she had a date but was too horrible to talk about. Like any guy could stand her job.” I laugh, sensing the presence of the blonde waitress but deliberately not taking her hint. “She’s great at work but I don’t want her blaming me years later for being single.” The rest of she has a choice, she could leave anytime never make it out for Matt to hear because it obviously does not concern him.

“You know what she needs? Some good sex to lay off some steam and stress.”

“Dude, don’t wink at me like that. It’s creepy and if you want to get into her pants, well good luck.” The sober Jess could turn down an ex easily, a drunk version with possibly mixed thoughts after seeing her ex? I’m not too sure, again, STAY OUT OF IT.

“Well well well,” The tone of victory as if he has won because of her left behind purse, it’s a shake of my head and lack of friendly warning that should have been said even in the slightest way. I nod as an answer to Matt’s question about her address that hasn’t changed in 8 years, watching him leave and feeling of a pair of small hands stroking my thighs as greetings, I smile at the blonde who has now finally made a move.

Jessica’s POV

Being caught by none other than Matt at my doorstep, it’s a further than forceful decline which states the boundaries on what is appropriate and acceptable - how he’s acting right now is an absolute no. Whilst I’m in a rather friendly state of mind and being right now, he’s invited in for a drink which I’m aware is not what he’s after once I sober up a little, although his way of speech, behavior and cockiness are all coming across as the old Matt; the Matt I once was inlove with. The Matt I once adored and thought the world of. A wine and laugh and recollection of old memories I’m not sure whether I should or should be having, our night ends with an unexpected yet warm kiss. Something I haven’t experienced in a while and am not ready, in any way for.

“Matty — I… I can’t. It’s, I…”

He’s fast to point out the fact that no one needs to know anything that happens between us and that it could be a sweet rekindle or a little bit of fun. His trademark cheeky smile and eyes tracing the hem of my dress, again I decline his ‘offer’, tired to the point I need to get sleep. Exchanging numbers (not that I couldn’t have gotten it off Daniel), I say a quick goodnight as Matt leaves and I close my front door, resting behind it as I slump to the floor and wonder if for the second time in my life I’ve let a best thing in my life walk straight back out again.

The next morning arrives quicker than expected. Head aching slightly, I’m still in the office at 7am and working flat out to catch up on things I should have completed yesterday. Bad Jess… should have stayed rather than run home; that way things would have been completed and finalized. Drinking tea over coffee with the hopes of flushing out the headache I’ve got, Daniel arriving once again late to work doesn’t help the situation. Remaining quiet for the morning; part in the hopes of a guilt trip and part because I can’t handle the loud noises of people chatting, typing and just in general existing in the office. It takes until almost 4pm for my lunch break to come around finally and for Daniel and I to converse. Everything said is short and sweet.

“I’m off to lunch, want anything?”

Silence.

“How was the rest of the night?”

Silence.

“A heads up to tell me that Matt was heading over to my place would have been appreciated.”

Silence.

“Are you going to talk to me?”

Silence. Nagging. Talking. Acting like a workwife. The constant cycle that I seem to forever be in. Sighing, I’m about to leave and head to lunch before the familiarity of Matt arrives at work and I groan at the company I don’t need. Ugh. Fuck my life. Not acknowledging him and focusing the tinniest bit if concentration on Daniel that I have left, I pull the pen out of his fingers that he’s writing away with, I take a deep breath, straighten my back and manage out with a clear and concise voice…

“Davies, I just want to let you know, first… because of our working relationship that on Monday, I’ll be handing in my two weeks notice which ends the day I fly out to Italy so… it’s probably time you start looking for someone else to handle your drama. Ok.. you two have fun with whatever boy stuff you’re going to get up to —- I’m off to lunch.”