#going to keep playing for a few weeks and drop it methinks. not even going to both setting up a tag that'd be pointless

[gachaparadise]

i've been dabbling with the hot new gacha reverse/1999 and its... okay so far. like everything is presented gorgeously and the battle system seems fun! but i can just tell this is NOT a game that's going last for me >_>

[javis-beretta]

Running Lines

someone requested theatre kid race x stage manager reader, so this is that combined with #61 from this prompt list, and also some projection of my nerdy desire for a cute boy to hit on me using lines from shakespeare. enjoy! <3

“Hey,” Race poked Henry in the shoulder, “who is that?”

He nodded his head towards you, sitting on the other end of the stage.

Henry shrugged.

“I think that’s Y/N, the new stage manager.”

Race nodded, filing the information away for later. You weren’t a part of the regular crowd that took part in college productions, in fact, Race wasn’t even sure that you took drama as an elective. You were the only person in the room that he didn’t already know. At first, that’s all you were to him: a new face in a familiar crowd.

—

The winter play had always been Race’s favourite. The drama department was active all year ‘round, but the winter production was always the biggest and the most exciting event. Most of the drama majors favoured the fall musical but, if Race was being honest, he always had been a fan of Shakespeare, and Hamlet was one of his favourite plays to date.

It didn’t hurt that he was the lead, of course. The role would stress most other actors out: it was well-known, full of complicated soliloquys and longer than it needed to be, but he was a sucker for a challenge.

And, the endless soliloquys did come with one upside: Race got to run lines with you. The director had suggested it at one of the first few rehearsals, so that Race wasn’t sitting idly while they blocked the difficult ensemble scenes. Now, he spent the hours before rehearsal looking forward to spending time alone with you.

It was strictly professional, he reminded himself. You made it easy to remember, always all business and no nonsense. He liked that about you. He liked that you weren’t as easy to impress as everyone else. It made him feel like he’d accomplished something when you laughed at one of his jokes or sought him out at the beginning of rehearsals. When you were around, he was his most charismatic self, and it would have been exhausting if your smile wasn’t so damn rewarding.

­—

“I’ll never get it,” Race whined, draping himself across the seat next to you at the back of the theatre. You reached over and patted his knee.

“I know you’re a drama major, but you don’t have to be so melodramatic. You’re a great actor, Higgins, and probably the only one at college here who could play Hamlet well.”

He opened one eye to look up at you.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone else can pull off being extra as well as you.”

He groaned again in response.

“This monologue is just… the worst.”

You rolled your eyes and jumped to your feet.

“We’re gonna keep running it until you get it, Race, and I know that this time you’ll kill it.” You reached your hands out to him. “C’mon, get up.”

He pulled himself up quickly and held onto your hands for a moment too long, before clearing his throat and bounding to the stage, on his endless legs. He stood at the edge of the stage and shook his head a little, as though he was clearing it, like an etch-a-sketch, to step into character. He took a few deep breaths, slipped into a sad frown and began to speak.

You spent the first couple of lines concentrating on his projection and intonation, making sure that he moved across the stage when he had to and that he moved slowly, purposelessly wandering. You made mental notes about when he should drop his voice, or where he should raise, and, then at “Soft you now, the fair Ophelia”, his blue eyes met yours, and your mind went blank.

You got caught in his gaze, and every note that you had made was gone. You let yourself focus on the last few words and the palpable pain in his voice. You wondered idly how someone could do that, just slip into another persona. Race was hard on himself, but you found it easy to get lost in his characters. You’d seen him before, playing a heroic Mark Anthony, and a suave Danny Zuko, but you were certain that this was the best he’d been.

You were so lost in those last few words, that you almost didn’t noticed when he finished, head bowed. You stood up and clapped, miming a standing ovation.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes wide and nervous. “Was that alright?”

“Was it alright?” you looked at him incredulously. This had been his best run through yet. “That was amazing, Higgins. Kenneth Branagh, who?”

He beamed at you, and stepped off the stage, pulling his phone out and checking the time. It was well past six, when the rehearsal was supposed to have ended.

“You know,” he said, concerned, “you didn’t have to stay this late to go through this stupid monologue with me.”

You moved towards him and nudged him your shoulder.

“Nah, it’s Wednesday evening, not like I had anything on. Besides, it’s my job to help the actors out.”

“No, it’s your job to help with cues and props. You didn’t have to do this.”

You shrugged.

“Well, I wanted to.”

That evening, as he lay in his uncomfortable dorm room bed, he thought of your words. He shook his head lightly and let himself smile at the ceiling.

You wanted to.

—

“Hey, Y/N, what do I have to do to get you to call me your sweet prince?” Race winked.

“Die,” you deadpanned.

—

Race put his books down on the table, and sat down across from you, giving you a light wave. You pulled out an earphone and greeted him.

“Hey,” he replied, easily. “I missed you at rehearsal yesterday.”

Your heart beat a little harder.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, “I talked to Bunsen, but I forgot to text you. I had a physics prac.”

“Don’t apologise to me,” he waved a hand dismissively. “How’d the prac go?”

If it was anyone else, you would have assumed that they were asking out of politeness, but Race didn’t even attempt to mask the earnestness in his voice.

“It went well, but I think I would have preferred to see you and Albert work on that fight scene,” you grinned at him.

“Oh, boy,” he answered, “that was a mission.”

You let yourself focus on the way his eyes twinkled while he told the story, throwing in an occasional noise of agreement or chuckle. You hadn’t really wanted to see him and Albert poking one another’s eyes out with prop swords, but you didn’t get to see Race much outside of rehearsals, and Wednesday afternoons were quickly becoming the highlight of your week.

—

“Hey, Y/N, you ever seen a beast with two backs?”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t answer.

“You wanna help me make one?” Race grinned.

“I’d rather be pursued by a bear.”

—

“Do you ever get jealous of our dope costumes?” Finch asked you, as you took his measurements for a tunic.

“Definitely not. I get to dress like a member of My Chemical Romance every night, and I get a headset.”

Race was watching you from the corner of the room, trying not to feel jealous of his friend’s proximity to you. Finch caught his eye and grinned, waggling his eyebrows. You were on his side now, wrapping the tape measure around his waist. Race’s eyes were still on you, and he grimaced a little at Finch’s smug face.

Most of the cast knew he had a thing for you. Hell, at this point he figured NASA was laughing at him from space. You were still painfully oblivious, and when you pushed Finch away and waved Race over, he immediately straightened up. He bounced over to you and tried his best to keep his heart in check as you stood near enough for him to get a breath of your perfume. His hand tapped tunelessly on his thigh, and, without thinking, you reached out to still it. Your hands touched for just a moment, but Race could barely hear over the blood roaring in his ears, so he looked around desperately. Romeo looked at him from across the room and smirked.

—

“Y/N!” you heard a voice call from somewhere behind you. You turned and spotted Romeo, waving as he made his way to you. You weren’t exactly best friends, but you chatted sometimes during rehearsals and you liked him.

You gave him a pleasant smile as he fell into step next to you.

“So,” he said, “are you coming to rehearsal tomorrow?”

“Yep,” you answered, “but I’ve gotta catch my history prof during her office hours, so I’ll probably be a little late.”

Romeo’s eyes twinkled with something that you couldn’t pin down.

“Aw, Race’ll miss you!”

Oh, that was it. He was making fun of you. You gave a purposefully casual shrug.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rome.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, you’re seriously going to tell me that there isn’t something going on between you two?”

“He isn’t, I mean, we’re not like that, at all. We’re colleagues, friends. Not anything else.”

He gave you a mischievous grin.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

—

Opening night came by quicker than any of you had expected. Between classes and midterms, the time had slipped away from you, and, soon, you were standing backstage, checking through registers an hour before you had to call places for the first scene. You jumped a little when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned to see Race, looking every bit like Danish royalty and giving you a princely smile. Your face broke out into a grin.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied. “You look good.”

You weren’t kidding. You had seen him in costume before, of course, but tonight he was glowing with anticipation, handsome even before he’d put on his stage makeup.

“Thanks,” he replied, smirking, “I was channelling my inner you.”

“Shut up,” you swatted at him with your clipboard.

“Hey, is not the truth, the truth?” he retorted.

“Don’t quote Henry IV at me for brownie points,” you poked him in the chest, “I can tell that you need something.”

“What, I can’t talk Shakespeare to my favourite stage manager, now?”

“I’m your only stage manager, Race.”

“Okay, fine. I usually do my makeup myself, but, uh, my hands are a little shaky tonight. Could you help me out?”

He looked adorably nervous, as if you’d actually be able to say no to him.

“Of course, Higgins.”

You borrowed some BB cream and an eyeliner pencil from one of the other boys and made your way to a unisex bathroom. Race leant against the counter, and you stood in front of him, trying your best to ignore the proximity of your faces. You heard his breath hitch a little when you dabbed some of the cream onto his cheek, and you hoped that it was because of your skin touching his. You ignored his eyes running over your face as you blended it in. For once, he was completely still.

He began to wriggle a little when you moved on to eyeliner, flinching away from you, until you had to cradle his face to keep him from moving away. When you were finished, you admired your work. You were no Jeffree Star, but it’d do.

“Uh, to be honest, I lied earlier,” Race said, quietly. “My hands weren’t shaking, I just wanted to get you alone.”

You swallowed drily.

“Well, you’ve got me, Higgins, what are you going to do now?”

“I just wanted to say thanks, I guess. You’ve helped me so much, through this whole process. I know I’m the one who’s gonna be up there on stage, but, you’re the real star of the show.”

You smiled, gently.

“It’s my job, Race, and I’m more than happy to do it. But, did you really have to lie to me just to say thanks?”

He gulped.

“That’s, uh, not all.”

You looked at him questioningly, but, before you could say anything, his hands were on your hips, pulling you nearer to him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you echoed.

“Y/N, am I imagining the, uh, something between us? Just, tell me now if I’ve read anything wrong. But, even if I am kidding myself, I just feel like I should say this. I’m playing the main part in one of the most important plays ever, in less than an hour and the thing that I’m most nervous about is still what you’ll think of me after.”

You sighed, deeply.

“You aren’t imagining anything, Race. I feel, uh, something too.”

He beamed at you, and leaned down, pulling you impossibly nearer, when the door swung open. JoJo’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and he hurriedly apologised, before he was gone as quickly as he had come. When you turned back to Race, the moment had been broken. You moved away from him and didn’t notice the way he deflated at the distance.

“C’mon, your Majesty,” you said, reaching for his hand. “I have to go make sure that everyone is where they’re supposed to be.”

—

The last show came as quickly as the first had, surprising all of you. The cast had entered into a rhythm, now, and you barely had to call places anymore. Still, it gave you an excuse to stop by Race’s dressing room while you waited for the first scene to end. You knocked, lightly, and pushed the door open to him sitting in front of the mirror, examining a beautiful bouquet of roses.

“Wow,” you said, “someone’s got admirers.”

He turned to you with a familiar smirk.

“Aw, Y/N, there’s no need to be jealous. They’re just from Jack.”

You began to argue, but decided against it, moving over to where he was sitting, instead, and picking up a single rose, and holding it up to the light.

“That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.”

He looked surprised.

“What? You’re not the only one who can quote Shakespeare, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just surprised that you’re quoting Juliet, is all. You’re an Ophelia if I ever met one.”

You clutched a hand to your chest.

“So, I’m weak-willed and manic?”

“No, not even a little. But, you are my major love interest.”

He winked, but there was something certain in his eyes.

“You’re breaking Sarah’s heart.”

He stood up and moved to hold your hand.

“Y/N. You know all that stuff I joke about? Like, us being together and stuff?”

You nodded, once.

“Well, I haven’t been joking. This show is almost over, and I don’t see you much outside of it, so I figured that I should tell you that. That I’m not joking.”

He palm was sweaty against yours, and, barely even thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder and kissed him. You and Race were not star-crossed lovers, but you felt that it was better that way. Most Shakespeare plays were tragedies, and, this time, you wanted a happy ending.

­—

The next winter, you were sitting across from him at the breakfast table, running lines again. Halfway through a phrase, Race cut himself off, smiling at something in his head.

“What’s so funny about Macbeth?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he answered, turning his smile on you. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“I can’t get over how a year ago, I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater in our apartment.”

You beamed at him, getting up to peck him on the lips. He stood and deepened the kiss, smiling into it.

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you,” he murmured against your lips. “Is not that strange?”

TAGLIST: @pinecovewoods @racescoronas @broadwayandbookblog @ilovejoshburrage @crazymecjc @bencookisagod 

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[knightwingyj]

Little Do You Know Ch 4

“Did anyone ever tell you that if you keep frowning like that, your face will stick?” Conan ignored the comment in favor of the operations report in front of him. “Then again, it might be too late for you.”

            The urge to roll his eyes was strong. It usually was whenever Gavin Reed was involved. “Do you have something for me?” He asked almost seeming bored.

            A stack of photos landed on his desk, directly on top of the report and his irritation at the man increased. All of the eight by ten photos contained the same subject. It seems Conner took Sumo to Riverside Park Sunday. A few depicted them walking through the festival and Sumo getting petted by strangers. He flipped through them, uninterested until Conner entered one of the tents. Conan’s brow furrowed. “Who is this man across from Conner?”

            Gavin leaned in to get a better look. “How should I know?”

            Conan leveled him with a look and it was Gavin’s turn to roll his eyes. “His name is Markus Manfred, a local painter. Quite famous actually. Does a lot of charity work. He was doing caricatures for the festival.”

            He knew that name. He was one of Conner’s favorite artists. His work was all over his brother’s room. This also happened to be the same man Conner was talking to at his engagement party. Interesting. Conan flipped through the rest of the photos and the dip in his brow deepened with each one. Photos of them walking side by side through the festival, sharing some kind of pastry. Chasing after a loose Sumo with matching grins. Standing a little too close with Markus inspecting Conner’s palm. His eyebrow’s twitched at the next one. They were both on the ground with Conner laying on top of Markus. The latter seemed to be in the midst of a good laugh as Conner flushed with embarrassment. The leash wrapped around their legs, suggesting that had lost their balance and tumbled.

            “What do you think?” Conan asked suddenly glancing up at the PI.

            “About them?” Conan nodded. “I’d say they were good friends.”

            “But?”

            “But…” Gavin reached down and pulled the last photo out of the pile, setting it in Conan’s hands. “You don’t look at a ‘good friend’ like that.”

            They were holding each other’s wrists as if one had just helped the other up. The shot was focused on Conner. His eyes were fixated on Markus and… glowing. In fact, Conner’s whole face seemed to shine. From his chocolate eyes and rosy cheeks to his soft, warm smile. It was an expression he had only seen on Conner once. Back when they were hormonal teenagers in high school. It was full of hope, care, adoration, and…dare he say it…love. He let out a heavy breath. Damn it, Conner.

            “Keep following them,” Conan ordered shuffling the photos into a plain manila folder and stowing them in a locked drawer in his desk.

            Gavin shook his head with a smirk. “Spying on your own brother. That’s cold.”

            Conan refused to grace that comment with a response. He was doing this for Conner’s own good.

            There was something about the smell of ink and the scratching of a pen that put Conner at ease. He found himself locked in his overly spacious office, immersed in quarterly earnings reports and getting lost in numbers and calculations. Numbers were simple and constant, ever-changing but remaining exactly the same. Conner could shut out the chaos of his life and focus solely on the computations. It was one of the better parts of his job and it provided a short retreat from board meetings and performance reviews.

            The sound of his dark, office doors opening pulled him from the realm of finances and he blinked. “I should’ve known you would be hard at work,” Chloe stated with a fond smile. Her blue dress stopped just above her knees and cut off at her shoulders. It brought out her blond hair, curling over her left shoulder in a loose ponytail. Simple, pointed black heels covered her feet and she sashayed into his office. “Don’t you ever take a break?”

            “I did, at lunch,” Conner commented, standing as she came around his desk.

            She raised an eyebrow at him. “Conner, that was nearly four hours ago.”

            “And it was sufficient for the rest of the day.” She rolled her eyes.

            “Whatever you say, Mr. CFO. I just came to tell you that I’ll be leaving town for a couple of days.”

            His brow furrowed. “Why?”

            “My cousin had her baby today and I’m heading out there to help her out.”

            “Oh.”

            Her hands landed on his biceps and she glanced away. “I’m sorry about the play. I know we said we would go together.”

            “It’s alright.” Conner dismissed casually.

            “Maybe you could find someone to go with you.” She suggested eyes wide with a not so well-hidden hope that he would jump at the chance at social interaction.

            “No, I think I just might give them to someone else.” That little hope died in her eyes and he only felt a little bad at killing it.

            “Alright…well…do whatever you feel like doing and I’ll see you in a few days.”

            “Stay safe.”

            Chloe smiled warmly at that. “You too. Lord knows how much trouble you’ll get into while I’m gone.”

            “I’m not that hopeless.” Conner scoffed, and Chloe raised another eyebrow. People really needed to stop looking at him like that. Soft fingers grazed his cheek and he stiffened slightly. Their eyes met, and Conner felt suddenly trapped. He watched as she raised herself on her toes and an unpleasant knot formed in the space between his stomach and diaphragm. His breath came out in shallow pants and his hands felt like blocks of ice. Her lips brushed his. Eyes wide, he tried to quail the panic rising inside him. The kiss was light and feathery and lasted no more than three seconds, but to him, it felt like years.

            She finally pulled away and he schooled his expression. For a moment, he feared he hadn’t done it quick enough as her smile was tight and plastered. “I’ll see you later, Conner.” She said. There was a heaviness to her voice that he didn’t understand.

            “See you.” His response may have been a little too quick as her mouth pressed into a thin line before she turned sharply and strode out. Had he done something wrong?

            Slightly confused and uncomfortable with the exchange, he shook his head and sat down, returning to his work. He needed to finish these reports if he wanted to leave on time.

            Six fifteen. He was going to be late. Conner rushed out of the elevator and into the waiting car, slamming the door behind him. “Jeeze, kid. What’s your hurry? Got someone waiting for ya?” Hank questioned, grey hair tied back in his ‘for work only’ hair tie.

            “As a matter of fact, yes. Riverside Youth Center, please Hank.” Conner requested buckling his seatbelt. Safety first.

            He could practically feel that eyebrow. “Why the hell are we going to a youth center?”

            Conner huffed softly. “If you must know, I’m meeting a friend.” Another eyebrow. “Would you just drive, please?”

            “Okay, whatever you say.” The car hummed as Hank pulled it into evening traffic, sneaking glances at the back seat through the rearview mirror. A flash of silver danced over knuckles.

            “So, this friend?” Hank questioned returning his eyes to the road. “They wouldn’t happen to be Markus Manfred would it?”

            The coin paused for a millisecond. “How did you know that?”

            Hank gave him his best, ‘bitch, please’ face. “I used to be a detective, Kid. You would not shut up about this guy for weeks whenever he released a new painting, but once you finally meet him? Zilch. You’re a little too cavalier about the whole thing.” Silence. Hank’s brow pinched, and he glanced at the mirror. “You fucking him?”

            Conner choked on his spit and dropped his quarter. He hurried snatched it up, face red and sputtering. “Hank! I’m engaged!” He admonished.

            Hank just shrugged. “So? People have done worse things while married.” There was a pregnant pause and Conner pointily avoided the rearview mirror. “Okay, not fucking him…but you want to.”

            “Hank!” The boy protests too much, methinks. Conner shook his head as his face went blank. “I’m not having this conversation with you.” Wait for it. “We’re just friends.” There it is.

            Hank made an agnostic hum and Conner did his utmost to burn a hole in the back of his head. “He is. I can have more than one friend, Hank.”

            “I’m not saying you can’t, but usually people don’t want to fuck their friends.”

            “I don’t want to fuck him.” There was that damn noise again. “Oh my god,” Conner rubbed at his temples. He was starting to get a headache and its name was Hank Anderson. “You are impossible.”

            Hank huffed out a laugh. “You want to tell me what it is about this guy that’s got you blushing like a new bride?”

            He was not blushing. He didn’t say a word. “Come on, kid. Don’t you trust me?” Silence. “Are you really going to give me the silent treatment?”

            “You are an asshole.”

            “And you’re a brat. Now that we’ve established that, get to the good part.”

            “No. You’re just making fun of me.”

            “Brat, exhibit A.” Conner shook his head but couldn’t hold back a smile. The car rolled to a stop just outside the center’s front doors and he unbuckled. He went to open the door when Hank stopped him with a hand on his knee. He had turned around in his seat to look Conner in the eye. All playfulness had vanished. “In all seriousness, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

            Conner smiled warmly at him. “I know, Hank.”

            “Good,” The lieutenant waved him off, turning back around. “Get out of here and go make some babies.”

            Not being able to decide between blushing or being ‘annoying analytical’, as Hank put it, he did a combination of both. “You know that’s not physically possible.”

            “Will you get out of here?!”

            Chuckling, Conner stepped out and closed the door. He suddenly remembered he was late and he rushed inside. Hank scoffed to himself as he watched the boy run, “Oh, he definitely wants to.”

            Room one hundred and four was located on the east side of the building, along two corridors and behind a second set of double doors. Conner glanced through the small glass window, spotting his target standing at the front of the class. Suddenly nervous, Conner hastily wiped his sweaty hands on his suit pants and quietly opened the door. No one noticed his appearance as they were all enthralled with the hot teacher demonstrating a technique on his own easel. The classroom itself was slightly larger than average, about 1,657 square feet. Shelving units lined one wall while a continuous countertop lined the other. There were three sinks total, five drying racks, and eighteen easels, each with a student seated in front of them. The door behind him no doubt held a kiln based on the pottery on the selves. There was hardly an inch of this place that wasn’t splattered with paint.

            His eyes returned to the front where they locked with green and blue. A brilliant smile overtook Markus’s face and Conner’s followed suit. “It seems we’ll have to pick this up next week. Don’t forget to practice your techniques. ‘Knowledge is of no value unless you put it into practice’.”

            Shuffling and conversation flowed as the students packed up their supplies. Conner received a few curious glances, but none stopped to speak to him. “You’re a bit late for class I’m afraid,” Markus said once the room had emptied.

            “I know. I got a little held up with work and- “

            Markus touched his shoulder. “Conner, I’m kidding.”

            Conner grinned sheepishly. “Right.” His throat prickled, and he slipped his sweaty hands in his pockets. A paint-stained smock covered Markus clothes. There were a few spots on his fingers and arms.

            “I have to admit I’m a little surprised to see you here.” The painter commented as he moved a few of his paints and brushes to a counter.

            “Well, when you said you taught classes, I had to see that for myself.”

            “And what did you think?”

            “You mean what did I think for all of the two minutes that I witnessed?” Conner teased making Markus chuckle. He shifted on his heels. “You have a real gift, Markus, and to be so passionate about it to want to share it with others…it’s inspiring.”

            Markus’ eyes crinkled and glowed. “And did I inspire you to try?” He gestured to the easel.

            Conner shook his head, waving his hands softly. “Oh, no. I have no talent for art, whatsoever.”

            “I bet I could prove you wrong.”

            “I highly doubt that.” Markus gave him a look, head tilted. Those eyes are going to be really hard to say no to. Conner sighed. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Markus moved out of the way and Conner sat down on the stool. Picking up a random brush, he hesitated before dipping it into a robin egg blue. “Um, what exactly am I supposed to paint?”

            “That’s the beauty of it,” Markus replied leaning against the table next to him. “You can paint anything you want. Anything you could possibly imagine.” Way to be vague, Markus.

            “That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

            “Here,” the man moved to stand behind him. Large, warm hands gently held onto his waist. Warm breath caressed the shell of his ear and Conner fought frantically against his blush. “Close your eyes.”

            Conner dare not move his head, but his eyes shifted to glance at Markus. “How is this beneficial?”

            “Just trust me. Close your eyes.” Letting out a breath, Conner did as he was told. He knew immediately that it was a mistake as he became acutely aware of Markus’ proximity to him. His blush was determined. “Some of the best art can inflict certain emotions in its viewers, so try pouring your emotions into your art. Think of a strong emotion and just let it flow through you.”

            Panic. Panic was certainly a strong emotion and right now, the strongest he was feeling. He tried to swallow the pins in his throat. “Uh,” that came out a lot breathier than he was hoping. He cleared his throat as subtly as possible. “I don’t think I can do that.”

            There was a husky hum in his ear and Conner’s brain jumped to places it should absolutely not be. “Okay, how about this?” Markus’ voice paused. “Have you ever been to the beach?”

            “The beach?” Conner shrugged. “Once.”

            “And how did it feel?”

            “It was- “

            “Don’t tell me. Show me.” Markus commanded, and Conner rushed to obey. He moved his hand forward until he met resistance. He could hear the bristles meeting the canvas. “How did the water feel against your skin?” The brush moved, creating waves of blue against white. The man couldn’t help but get closer to the CFO, careful not to let he chest touch Conner’s back even though everything in him screamed to do so.

            “The sun against your face.” Circles appeared on the canvas and Markus’ thumbs followed of their own accord.

            “The sand under your feet.” Dots followed next.

            “The wind in your hair.” His breath fanned out over his skin, raising goosebumps to the surface.

            Markus’ voice trailed off as he watched Conner’s face. Eyes were still under his eyelids, delicate lashes caressing smooth cheeks. Freckles and moles dotted his face like Conner’s sand. Including one on his temple just barely visible underneath chestnut hair. His lips itched to press a kiss to it. Eyes traced the line of his nose to plump, pink lips. He could just imagine how they’d feel against his, soft but firm. His tongue darted out to wet his own lips. He saw Conner’s eyes twitch and he hurriedly turned his attention to the painting.

            Conner’s eyes blinked open, taking in the chaos before him and his expression fell. “It looks like shit.”

            Markus let out a surprised laugh at the statement. “It does not. It looks like a beach of blue.”

            “Where in the world do you get a beach out of this mess?”

            “Look,” copper fingers traced the lines. Waves. “Here’s your ocean, calm and soothing.” Circles. “Here’s your swirling sun.” Dots. “Your warm, soft sand.” Swirls. “Your gentle wind.”

            Markus looks so serene describing his painting. Conner tilted his head, trying to view it through Markus’ eyes. No change. “It still looks like a bunch of random marks to me.”

            “Well, you are the creator and we tend to be our own worst critiques. I like it.” Markus moved away, taking his heat with him. Conner only now just realized how close he had been, how comfortable.

            “If you like it, you might as well keep it.” Conner offered, dropping the paintbrush and rising from the stool.

            Markus’ head snapped toward him as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. “Really?” That was more enthusiastic than Conner had expected. It silently pleased him.

            “Yes, really. You’re the only one who would appreciate it anyway.” Conner couldn’t imagine what reactions he would get if he took it home. He could almost see the looks, the comments.

            “Thank you,” Markus said brightly, and Conner held back a proud smile. “I need to start cleaning up.”

            “I’ll help.”

            Markus looked shocked that he would even offer. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

            “It’s okay. I want to.” His cheeks were starting to hurt some smiling so much, but he couldn’t help it.

            “Well, if you insist.”

            Conner nodded once and began to remove his suit jacket. Markus froze, unable to look away. Delicate fingers slipped the buttons of his sleeve cuffs free and rolled up the fabric, exposing pale skin of a strong forearm. Conner shifted, and Markus turned away quickly, praying that the other man hadn’t noticed him staring. Way to be a creep, Markus. Shaking away his self-beratement, he gently lifted Conner’s painting and laid it carefully on the table.

            Collecting all of the soiled paint brushed, Conner brought them to one of the empty sinks and turned the handle. It took a minute for the water to flow from the tap and he frowned. It seems the center was in need of more funding than he thought. He ran the brushes under the water.

            Sneaking a glance toward the sinks, Markus’ mouth went dry. The rolled sleeves gave Conner a relaxed vibe the Markus hadn’t felt from him before. His tie had been thrown over his shoulder to keep it from getting wet. Colored water streamed in rivets over elegant hands as brushes swirled along the skin of his palm. A single drop escaped the pool and rolled down the inside of a thin wrist and down that creamy forearm to soak into the crisp, white fabric of the rolled sleeve. Markus swallowed thickly as he tore his eyes away. It was getting rather warm in here.

            Brushes cleaned and put away, Conner dried his hands and turned to see a majority of the easels gone. He picked up the last two and brought them over to Markus. There was a hint of redness in his cheeks as he took the easels from him. “Thank you.” He folded them and leaned them against the others.

            “You’re welcome,” Conner replied.

            Markus held his gaze for a second too long before he snapped himself out of it and looked around the cleared room. “I think that’s everything. Thanks again for your help.”

            “It was no trouble. I’m sorry I was so late though. I’ll have to do better in the future.”

            “Of course, I expect only the best from my students.” Markus teased.

            Conner grinned when a lightbulb went on in his brain. “Oh, hey. Do you enjoy the theatre?”

            “Theatre?” Markus puzzled. “Like plays?” The burnet nodded. “Sure, why?”

            “Well, I have a couple of tickets for tomorrow night and I was wondering if you wanted to go. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that maybe…”

            “Conner,” Markus cut him off. Conner rambled when he was nervous. Cute. “I would love to.”

            That beautifully crooked smile grew, crinkling the edges of his eyes. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

            “Cool, what are we seeing?”

            He stopped short. What were they seeing? He didn’t know. Chloe always picked, and he just went along with it. “I’ve got no idea.” He confessed.

            That pulled a laugh out of Markus. “A mystery, I like it.”

            Conner chuckled along with him. He knew he had suggested it as to not waste the tickets and to hang out with his friends as Chloe had suggested, but, for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just asked Markus out on a date.

            “I can’t believe you asked him out on a date.”

            A heavy breath escaped as his eyes searched for patience on his vanity’s ceiling. Hank was slouched in his reading chair, hands flipping through Conner’s latest rainy day read. “It’s not a date. We’re just hanging out as friends.” He explained for the third time.

            “Friends don’t usually take each other out to the theatre.”

            “I didn’t want to waste the tickets.” Conner’s fingers expertly knotted the bow tie.

            Hank clicked his tongue. “So…Markus is your rebound?”

            Conner’s eyes did roll this time. “I’m done trying to explain this to you.”

            The book was tossed back onto the end table. “What’s there to explain? Your fiancée wasn’t available, so you decided to take your crush instead.” He didn’t bother to grace that with a response. “So, what are you going to do after?”

            “Nothing. Why are you so determined that I sleep with him?” Conner questioned straightening the finished bow tie.

            Hank raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything about you sleeping with him. That’s where your mind went…and maybe you’d be less of a stooge if you actually got laid.”

            “You’re impossible.”

            Hank just shrugged before groaned and dragging himself out of the recliner. Stretching his hands over his head, he let out a satisfied sound as his vertebrae popped back into place. “That chair is so fucking comfortable.”

            “I know. That’s why I bought it.”

            Hank clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Have fun tonight, kid. Be safe.”

            “I’m always safe when driving, Hank.”

            “That’s not what I meant,” Hank said with a shit-eating grin.

            Migraine, thy name is Hank. “Oh my god, Goodnight Hank.” Hank just cackled as he walked out the door.

            Conner shook his head at the lieutenant’s antics, wondering why they were even friends. Giving himself a once over in the mirror, he shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his keys from his dresser. Closing the door behind him, he glanced up to see Conan watching him from his own bedroom doorway. A bubble of irritation rose up in him at the thought of his brother judging him, but it popped quickly at the thought of their last encounter. Despite only being sixteen minutes behind Conner, Conan always acted like the oldest between them. He was overbearing, overprotective, and downright infuriating, but he always did his best to look after him. He worried in his own, unique way. Affection for his baby brother replaced the irritation and he smiled warmly.

            “Goodnight, Conan.”

            Conan looked a little taken back by his farewell and it was a bit awkward for a few moments as he processed. Eventually, those icy blue eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Goodnight, Conner.” The door closed with a click. He’d consider this progress.

            Copper fingers straightened his bow tie for the third time and tugged the nonexistent wrinkles out of his suit jacket for the fifth. A tangled ball of live wires writhed in his stomach, tuning his insides with tiny electric shocks. His hands started sweating a while ago and he pressed them into the fabric of the couch. He didn’t want to wrinkle his pants.

            “I haven’t seen you this wound up for a date since Prom. Who’s the lucky guy?” Carl rolled up next to the arm of the couch, taking note of his son’s nervous fidgeting.

            “It’s not like that. We’re just going to the theatre.”

            “You and who?”

            The darkening of Markus’ cheeks was barely visible, but the old artist noticed. “Conner.”

            White eyebrows twitched at the name. “Conner Stern?”

            “Yes.”

            “The same Conner Stern who just got engaged three weeks ago?”

            Shame quieted the bundle of wire and Markus glanced down at his knees, unable to look his father in the eye. “Yeah.”

            This really wasn’t unexpected. Markus always tended to fall for the complicated ones. It was the caretaker in him that drew Markus to the ones that truly needed love. Despite the slight mortification in his words, there was still a bit of pink in Markus’s cheeks. The corners of his mouth hinted at a goofy grin and his eyes were bright. Carl didn’t know Conner very well, but he had to be something truly special to elicit such a response from his golden-hearted boy. He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “So, you going to tell him?”

            Markus looked at him confused. “Tell him what?”

            “How you feel about him?”

            His son hastened to school his expression but the red in his cheeks darkened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “Bull,” Markus needed to stop being surprised by how blunt Carl could be. The older man shifted closer. “Markus, you came home yesterday practically giddy. Now, I haven’t seen you like that since you and North got together back in high school. Feelings like that aren’t something you can hide.”

            Markus’ mouth was having a difficult time forming words. “It… I… It’s not like that. He and I- “He growled in frustration, dragging his hands over his close-cropped hair. “We’re… we’re just… we’re not like that. It’s like you said, he’s engaged.”

            “Maybe that’s the reason you should tell him.”

            “Shouldn’t that be the very reason that I don’t?”

            “Would you regret it if you didn’t?”

            He paused, trying to process what was said. Tell him because he was engaged? That didn’t make any sense, but…Carl may be right. If he didn’t, he could regret it. Living his life not knowing what could have been. It caused a lump to stick in his lungs. He opened his mouth to respond when the doorbell rang and that lump jumped from his lungs to his throat. Holy shit, he was here. Markus practically jumped to his feet and brushed his immaculate suit. Ignoring Carl’s knowing grin, Markus answered the door…and promptly last the ability to breathe.

            The man he was having a mini existential crisis about was currently sanding under the halo of their porch lights, looking very much like an angel to his eyes. “H-Hi.” Markus stuttered still starring.

            Conner’s grin accompanied a blush. “Hi.”

            The black tux was reminiscent of that night on the balcony but there was something different this time. Maybe it was his smile or the fact that his eyes were shining instead of being lost in the dark.

            Markus was definitely more put together this time around but Conner had to admit that he was seriously missing the loose tie and opened shirt.

            “Well, aren’t you going to invite him in?”

            Heterochromia eyes blinked at Carl’s question and he flushed deeply. “Right, come on in.” He moved his body out of the doorway and watched as Conner went immediately to Carl, greeting him as the host.

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Manfred. You have a wonderful home.” Conner complimented shaking the elder’s hand.

            “Why thank you, Conner, and please, call me Carl. I hear so much about you from Markus, I feel as if I know you already.” Markus’ grin grew almost manic at Carl’s comment and the older man flashed his son a mischievous glance. “He particularly enjoys the painting you gave him. Got it hanging in his room.”

His face ended up hidden in his hands, fingers rubbing at his brow. When Carl decided to tease him, it was best to just let him get it all out of his system, lest it becomes worse for Markus.

Their guest just laughed. “I really can’t talk. I’ve got a few of his own pieces in my room as well.”

Carl’s eyes lit up with this tidbit of information. “Well, isn’t that something. You hear that Markus?”

“Yeah, Dad. I already knew.”

“Did you now?” Carl was enjoying this way too much.

“Dad,” Markus warned.

Carl chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, I think I’ve embarrassed Markus enough. You kids have fun tonight. Be careful on the roads.”

“We will,” Conner assured as he took Carl’s hand again. “Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Conner. I expect to see you around here more often.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Conner replied as Markus ushered him out the door. The light from the house cut off as the door closed and he turned to Markus. “I like him.”

Markus rolled his eyes good-naturedly and started toward the driveway. “He’s always enjoyed teasing me.”

“Well, that’s what dads are supposed to do. He reminds me of Hank.”

Catching sight of Conner’s car, Markus let out a low whistle. “MGB Roadster. Nice. What year?”

“Seventy-four. I bought her a couple years ago. She’s one of the few things that is actually mine.” Conner said opening the passenger door of the convertible. Markus gave him a playfully-not so playful-flirty grin and batted his eyelashes.

“Such a gentleman. Do you treat all your dates with this much chivalry?” He slipped into the seat and Conner closed the door, leaning against it.

“Only the good-looking ones.” He gave Markus a wink and silently basked in his victory at the resulting blush.

The exchange was a preview for the drive as they tried to one-up each other with cheesy pickup lines and desperately trying to fluster the other. Markus won, seeing as he was much cheesier than Conner and his dark skin hid the redness better than Conner’s pale skin. This camaraderie was wonderfully pleasant and Conner found himself relaxing more and more. Markus had this way for breaking down his walls and reaching the human he tried too hard to hide.

The intermission couldn’t come soon enough as Conner and Markus stood just outside the theatre doors. “Well,” Markus started a little unsure about the proper way to phrase his next sentence without sounding rude. “That was…”

“Boring,” Conner interjected and Markus chuckled at his bluntness.

“Yeah.”

“It’s not really what I expected.”

Markus hummed in agreement before a brilliant idea was made by his ever growling stomach. “Hey, you hungry?”

“Um, yes.”

Smiling, Markus grabbed his hand and Conner’s heart fluttered. “Come on then.” They walked out of the building, hands still clasped, missing the end of the intermission. Markus steered them away from the parking lot and Conner’s car. Confused, the brunet didn’t say anything, not wanting to remind Markus that his hand was still clinging to his and having him remove it. They walked down the busy sidewalk to a diner on the corner.

It stank of cheap, greasy food and boasted a fifty’s motif. Conner loved it. It reminded him of Hank. “This place has the best burgers and shakes, hands down,” Markus said, guiding him to an empty booth near the window and sitting down across from him, hands automatically removing the bow tie and loosening a few buttons on his shirt. Conner’s eyes had no choice but to follow his movements, resting on the smooth skin of his neck and collar bones. He looked away as a waitress approached their table.

“What will it be gentlemen?” She asked pleasantly, notebook and pen pose and ready to write. Her neon pink uniform was stained and wrinkled from working a full shift. Dirty blond hair was piled on the top of her head.

“Two number fours please,” Markus said and she nodded.

“Good choice and what to drink?”

“Water, please.”

She smiled down at them.” I’ll be right back with those.” And she left them to their own devices.

Markus looked at him a little sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you. You just really need to try their burgers.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. Considering I have never been here before, it’s only logical.”

His companion snickered. “Whatever you say, Spock.”

Conner did his adorable head tilt and Markus’ stomach dropped. “What is a ‘spock’?”

Markus just stared. “Are you telling me that you’ve never seen Star Trek?” Conner just shook his head. He hissed under his breath, “you uncultured swine.” He reached out a hand and patted his forearm. “Don’t worry Con. We’ll educate you on the artistic beauty of science fiction soon enough.”

Conner paused, his eyes wide. Markus did the head tilt this time. “What?”

“It’s just, no one, besides Hank, has called me ‘Con’ in a long time.”

“I didn’t offend you, did I?” Markus asked worriedly.

“No, no. Of course not, it’s just nice to hear.” He sent Markus a smile and received one in return.

The waitress came back with their food and Conner had to admit that it looked delicious, despite the extremely high calories. Following Markus’ lead, he picked up the overly large burger and took a bite. His mouth exploded with a mosaic of flavors ranging from spicy to tangy. He stared at the food wide-eyed. “Wow,” he said softly in awe.

Markus was grinning over his own burger. “I know right,” and he took another bite. There wasn’t much conversation between them as they ate but it wasn’t long before Markus was regaling him with stories from his childhood. A particular one of the Jericrew and a couple cans of spray paint had Conner laughing until his belly hurt.

“Well,” Conner said still laughing and pressing a hand to his aching stomach. “It sounds to me like you were quite a delinquent in your early years, Mr. Manfred.”

Markus scoffed. “Says the guy who got arrested for blowing up a freighter.”

Conner’s eyes went comically wide and his jaw slacked. “I’ll have you know, that that was a one-time thing!” He protested over Markus’ guffaws.

“I beg to differ. Any other criminal acts I should know about? Bank robberies? Jewel heists? Tramp stamps?”

Conner’s face reddened and he averted his eyes on the last suggestion and it was Markus’ turned to be shocked. “Holy shit, I was joking. You have a tramp stamp?!”

“No,” Conner hissed but still flushed. “It’s not a tramp stamp.”

“But you do have a tattoo?” Conner just nodded. “Oh my god. Where is it and what is it?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re making fun of me.”

“Aw, but I’m your best friend,” Markus whined. Conner pursed his lips and shook his head, unfazed. Markus pouted. “Fine, killjoy, but I’ll find out sooner or later.” Even if I have to take all of your clothes off to do it. No. Bad Markus.

The waitress returned. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Yes, a caramel mocha shake please,” Markus said and she turned to Conner.

“Nothing for me, thank you.”

Markus gave him a look. “Conner, milkshakes are part of the burger experience.”

Conner laughed. “I would but if I eat any more, I think I might burst.”

Markus made an over exaggerated groan. “Fine, you can share with me.” The waitress nodded with an understanding grin and hurried off to fill their order. Conner just shook his head fondly.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, Conner,” Markus said sincerely. “I had a lot of fun.”

“I did too, even if the play was rather dull,” Conner smirked.

“Yeah, well, at least we got these delicious burgers out it. And the company isn’t half bad either.” He ended that sentence with a wink and Conner felt his face heat up. The waitress arrived in half the time and placed a light brown beverage between them with two straws sticking out of the mountain of whipped cream.

“Oh my god, this is a heart attack in a cup,” Conner said scooting up excitedly, blatantly ignoring his previously stuffed stomach.

“Just wait till you try it,” Markus said grabbing his straw and putting it in his mouth. Conner’s mind wanted to slip into the gutter but he restrained it with a sip of his own. It was even better than the burgers. Conner practically melted in his seat.

“Markus, I will never question your culinary tastes ever again.”

“Damn, right you won’t.” The painter said smugly, tongue darting out the pulled the straw back into his mouth with a cocky grin. Stop it, Conner. His dirty mind was not going to ruin this moment for him. After all, it was the most fun he’s had in a long time.

[cow5secondchance]

Episode 2 - Why Did People Flip - Xavier

Format: Sequester

Eliminated: Wyatt (9-3-1-1-1) || Daisy (Battle Match)

BLAKE

so! week 2 and my plan honestly is to just really still focus on my social relationships. so far, i feel very confident in my ability to connect with people on a 1 to 1 level, and at least hopefully skate through these first few weeks. consistently my problem in the game is missing out on a key group or alliance that is running more than I know. without being too chaotic and paranoid, i would really really like to try to sit here and just scope out the relationships. as for my groups! i really want to work with jennet. she's like iconic? her art is so cute and i do feel like i made a genuine connection with her early on, and i think pointing out we're some of the only award winners in the cast could bring us closer together ! plus 4th place legends... beyond jennet, i have a group with isaac and nicole, and honestly, im feeling suprisingly good about both. i think these first 6 people i mention are the ones im going to focus on most, and focus on really forming game connection wheras the rest im just socially going to really force myself into their LIVES and hope they like me! Daisy and Jarod... loves them and swifties who ive played with in the past both in a way that i feel we were unfinished. jarod got taken out in the doubles round just as we kinda connected on a game level, and then daisy and i were working together in bb netflix before it got canceled. this is really the group i want to strategize with and im really putting myself on a limb being loyal to them because i know they have options, but its a risk im willing to take because if i can be the number 1, their connections can just offer more safety and information for myself. and the final people who i kinda want to work with is captain and wiliam xavier s up there, we just havent spoken tons dont really have much of an opinion on the others? if i had to nominate right now it might be mario just because we havent spoken yet.

XAVIER

It's annoying to be nominated, especially by Jennet. Literally two minutes before we were talking and I was explaining how this round is played. And then Jennet nominates me. I feel betrayed. Getting my G4ce together (Greenhouse 4) so we can vote as a team. And well, well, well, I just found out that the Sequester 4 are also voting together. It is weird that they are all nominated during the Sequester round. They are targeting either Wyatt or Kaleigh. Knowing they are a team, I want one of them out, if I can swing it quietly.

NICOLE

HI I’m back and already went through a ton! Last round a misunderstanding / Lanie throwing me under the bus just because I said I hadn’t spoken to Nyx and Captain really set me up in a weird spot so I had to get rid of Lanie and then she said we all suck (imagine being almost 30 and telling someone who is your students age that they suck! I get it really is terrible to be blindsided but it was her fault, she played too fast! Like yell at me for not communicating properly or whatever she believed I did at that point but don’t take it out on everyone especially like the youngest player in the game!) Anyway, this round is sequester so we are all back together! I finally get to play with Daisy! I love her so much so I’m super glad we got to play, I’m very glad I get to reunite with Lindsay, I’m glad William isn’t mad at me for the whole Lanie situation and now I’m safe for the first vote! It is a very good feeling but I also feel like I should be learning from Lanie’s mistake and playing not fast so I’m trying to take a step back from talking in the house chat. I’m just so excited to see everyone but I will try to contain myself so I don’t annoy anyone. Check back in later in the round!!!

BLAKE

I forget the questions omg but I had a call with Jarod where he kinda threw out wyatts name as an option to go, and honestly I’m completely fine with that because even though they seem super sweet, I feel like I’m juggling enough balls and I don’t need to add them into my mix, whereas I feel a lot better about every other nominee other than Kaleigh, who I don’t think anybody would do this early My strategy is to just campaign for myself to stay to everybody and avoid throwing out names. I’m hoping that comes from Jarod or one of the safe people because they literally have the safety to get away with it 

XAVIER

I like video confessionals. The only alliance of 4 should be Greenhouse

CAPTAIN

hello dr.. so i'm glad i got saved by jarod :pleading_face: he rlly said i'm gonna make captain safe no matter what happens. and thats exactly what he did :100: for ppl who are vulnerable, i want autumn, jarod and xavier to be safe the most like idc i just want 3 of them to be safe. xavier might be in a bit of trouble tho since the totem pole ppl are voting together for sure hmmm so i need to try to talk to them to sway them from voting xavier. for the plans to avoid battle match? idk i just want them to feel safe around me no matter what. so that if i end up voting them, they're not gonna be bitter at me that much. and i lowkey saved myself with wyatt since wyatt said they wanted to work with me so prays.

__________

also, i secured an alliance with jarod, autumn and jennet. and a greenhouse alliance with mario, nyx and xavier. the latter hasn't been in the talk like with every greenhouse yet but xavier brought it up to me and i think that it should be great. so fingers crossed!

WILLIAM

SOOOOOOOOOOOOO, going into Round 2 im having a really big struggle..... im seeing  THAT I DONT DISLIKE A SINGLE PERSON ON THIS CAST, USUALLY THERE IS AT LEAST ONE BUT NOPE    Also we are moving into a Sequester sorta semi safety chain with half vulnerable and half safe cast and lucky me I think Lanie either hated me the most or the least from our Survivor team and decided to give me the Karma twist which gave me safety for the round but made me have to pick the first unsafe out of the whole cast. I think my strategy was to pick someone who didn't talk to me yet (so i had a reason) as well as someone who was sorta loved by most if not all and wasn't a target for it, because I'm thinking if I just fade into the background this round no one would have a need or want to pick me for the Battlematch, i think its safe to assume whoever goes home will pick the person who made them unsafe plus like one other person, so i just have to avoid being that other 1/13 people. As for the vote i have no clue at all, I think maybe Isaac cause i haven't said much to him at all, or maybe Jarod cause i know he is hella busy and prob wont pick me to go into battle..... just not Wyatt or Blake or Kaleigh rn.  So like yeah, just gonna pray, not talk around too too much, let people come to me so it doesnt seem like im pushing anyones name and hopefully vote someone i dont love out. yeah so much fun xoxo William F

NYX

So, this round is pretty confusing and difficult to navigate cause not only do we have to vote someone out we have to vote someone out and hope they don't drag us into the battleback. I'm very happy to be safe for the vote since at least then i'll have a chance to battleback in a comp. So, for this vote I can't vote Autumn since she gave me safety, I can't vote Jarod since he took one for the team, I can't vote Xavier cause of the gh alliance, I can't vote Blake due to our bonding on tau ceti, so my only real options for this vote are Isaac, Wyatt, and Kaleigh. If I had my way i'd just pile the votes on wyatt and get them out now but it's not that easy because i haven't talked as much and they could see that as incentive to drag me in. Of course all the people I just mentioned I don't wanna vote for I wanna save because that means they'll be willing to work with me to some capacity. To avoid the battle match is the hardest part cause people can be very impulsive with their decisions and heat of the moment always catches people off guard. My best bet is just not to make too many promises and to just tell the truth and hopefully that'll be enough to gain their respect. 

CAPTAIN

besties.. i don't know what i'm doing. its between wyatt and kaleigh methinks but wyatt keeps dropping my name everywhere and i don't really like it. idk if they get eliminated, if they would put me in the battle or not. but like if they're this messy, i'm voting them for sure. also sobs kaleigh is so cute.

__________

prays for me DR! sign: captain.

LINDSAY

bro no one wants to throw out a name because of the battle drag twist so it's three hours to tribal and i dont know who the fuck to vote my gut is telling me jarod but i am absolutely not letting jarod drag that shit back to me definitely not autumn i dont know like. i'm working the tightest with william, daisy and wyatt weirdly enough and none of us have heard anything so i just. ?????

MARIO

I AM SAFE!!! I AM NOT SECOND BOOT AGAIN

AUTUMN

IT WONT LET ME PUT AUDIO FILES IN!!! But when Monty puts them all together later this season I hope yall enjoy haha

XAVIER

Ok this vote is messy. It started out with Jarod and the Sequester group wanting to vote Kaleigh. They got people on board, and it looked good. Until Wyatt made that alliance chat. And of course the vote shifted to Isaac. But the Sequester group won't vote Isaac. Mario voted Autumn. Captain voted Wyatt. I am voting Kaleigh because I haven't spoken to her much. But I want the vote to go Isaac's way - it breaks up Sequester, and he won't think it was me, so safe from the battle. So it may be 5 on Kaleigh, unless the other people in that Alliance chat are not being honest as well. Ha ha. As long as it's not me, right?!

LINDSAY

wyatt made a voting block?? and didn't include me?? the person with no connection to isaac who they kept safe and would have probably voted with them???? wh ok i guess my vote is on wyatt tonight tf 

NYX

So, this round is a clusterfuck of scrambling cause no one wants to get pulled into the battleback and potentially lose there. I just don't wanna go home even earlier than last time because my game has just been so much better and to lose it this way would be fucking devastating. i just want to win so badly so im just hoping i can maneuver this right

LINDSAY

"you know that this is anonymous right" DAISY HELP NO I DIDNT FUCK OK I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING WHAT IS HAPPENING WHERE AM I

XAVIER

WHAT JUST HAPPENED. I know Captain voted for Wyatt. Maybe Captain is more influential than I thought? Why did people flip? Because of the alliance chat? It was too much? And why wasn't I included in the flip vote? Agh. Time to make my own rules here.

__________

I am still shookt 

DAISY

[ellyehheyhey]

The constant struggle

A long text ramble about... personal internet addiction, I guess???

One of my goals in life is to spend less of my free time in front of the computer (which I am obviously failing right now but I digress), and due to wrist soreness I actually went three days this past week without even turning my home computer on. 

The problem with this is that instead of doing something else with that time I just end up sleeping most of it off. 

Like I’ll get home, make/eat food, maybe watch and episode of something, lie on the couch wishing I was on the computer or napping for awhile, then bedready and retire early.

There are numerous other goals I struggle to achieve: learning french, cooking my own meals, exercising, drawing more for fun, getting some kind of hobby, keeping the apartment tidy. I often fall in and out of doing these things but am always trying to get back to them in the hopes that they’d become habitual. 

And its frustrating that I have all of these things I’d LIKE to do, but when I give myself the time by not going on the internet I choose to sleep instead.  I have a few reasons for wanting to ditch computing at home: 1. Wrists. My job has me using the computer all day, and I find that if I am on the computer a lot at home, I often get wrist/arm soreness. When I stop using the computer at home the soreness goes away after a couple of days. I like my job, so I’d like to avoid things that would make it painful/impossible. 2. Its a time sink for me. I often fail to compute in moderation. I easily end up in facebook>tumblr>twitter loop that I get trapped in for hours. 

3. I don’t use the internet for anything worthwhile. I often don’t use it to do/research anything particularly enriching, and if I do I easily fall back into that loop for the majority of the time I’m on. I rarely use the computer to play games or watch things or do art. I don’t participate in any online communities in any kind of in depth level. I don’t even listen to music while I’m on the computer at home anymore.  It might be so difficult to drop because its been my primary method of relaxing and passing time for years. It’s what I’d do as soon as I got home from school. It’s how I talked to my friends. Now it’s how I keep in touch with my family. I can talk to people though text and take my time with what I say and how I say it.

I think I had more to say but I’m out of steam methinks.

[itkmoonknight]

ITK Newsletter, no. CXI: LUNAR-PICK - Comic Book Reviews on Contagion + Sister Mercy!

Loonies!

Allow me to assault you once again with a fair newsletter for your weekly consumption!

Welcome back to the ITK newsletter which gives you all you need to know for the upcoming episode. This time around, there is of course your usual Moon Knight fare, but things are slightly different this time around as we look towards some creative work done by one of our own Loonies, Corey Hardiman…it’s an independent comic book, ‘Sister Mercy’ which we will ‘review’ (I’m hesitant to ‘review it, as I don’t want to ‘mark’ it) and discuss on the show!

PHASE OF THE MOON: NULL + VOID 

LUNAR-PICK REVIEWS - OVERVIEW OF THE CONTAGION SERIES + SISTER MERCY ISSUE #1 by Corey Hardiman

But apart from that, there will be standard Moon Knight goodness with two things of note -

Firstly, we’ll be discussing the recently concluded Contagion event which featured our Fist of Khonshu - and not only was it a fleeting appearance, but Marc actually swung in to save the day! I won’t give much away here as to my thoughts on the series, but needless to say, you’ll want to tune in for this one to gather some…let’s just say, interesting thoughts I had on it all…

Very keen to hear what you thought of it too - I’ve posted up a Spoiler Thread in the FB Group and Page for those who want to drop us a line…we’d love to read out and discuss your thoughts too on the show.

I actually had the honour of guesting also on the Iron Fist podcast, to chat about Contagion too…more on that later down the newsletter in our Collective section…

As you can see, we’ve ignored Khonshu once again with the phases of the Moon…methinks it has to do with the lost Golden Sceptre…remember that? :)

Yes, I’ve not forgotten about our little serial, and you’ll be happy to know that Episode 6 of THE HUNT FOR KHONSHU’S GOLDEN SCEPTRE should drop either this coming episode, or next. I just have to find some time to stitch the episode together, but I have all the material and am keen to keep our serial chugging along!

Aside from the Contagion and Sister Mercy review/discussion on the show, there’s also the ’10 Things you Need to Know about Moon Knight’ initiative that Rebecca and Connor(shu) instigated int heir podcast episode 118 ‘2K Nine-Nine’.

We got heaps of feedback for it, so I’m keen to feature this on the show, however, I’m not really sure what the other High Priests had in mind. Speaking of which, Rebecca will be unavailable this coming episode, and I’m just trying to confirm the availability of young Connor(shu)…what you MIGHT get this coming episode is either a solo from me (which I’d prefer not to, as I’d love to discuss these issues for review with someone else), or a special guest that I may happen to snag.

Just another tiny factor playing into consideration is that my little Khonshu, Finn, has upturned his sleeping pattern and so it’s hard to ascertain when I can actually record. Fear not! I will find a slot somewhere in the day (or night) and be sure to release an ITK episode to keep this show going strong! Only downside is that it’s hard to coordinate co-hosts, as my time availability is at the whim of my 15-month old! :P

I'm even thinking of perhaps taking a short break to record a bunch of pre-recorded shows as an option of keeping the lights on at ITK...I don't know...it's a tricky one, as with pre-recorded shows you can't really do current news or updates...hhhmmmm, I'll have to give it some more thought...

FANTASY COMIC LEAGUE - OCTOBER RESULTS IN!

We have the results for the end of October and geez Louise, call me Mac 'n' Cheese, things are damn well exciting!

It was no surprise that Tommy took out the month with a commanding lead in week three of October, and as seen in the card above, Tommy remains top dog with juuuust under a century to his name. Well done, Tommy! Both The Thing and Miles had a huge month...with ol' Blue eyes in Contagion as well as the various FF books, his points saw him shoot The Man on the Streets up to top billing...

I was fortunate enough to have Cap do very well at the tail end of the month, so I managed to hang onto second place for the second time this season, with a respectable score of 85. I was pretty disappointed with Wolverine's effort and to be honest, I was expecting way more from Iron Fist too, as the weekly Contagion I was sure was going to yield a flurry of points for Danny...but not to be...

This was a clincher! Jason (previous month's leader) scraped into third position this month by one point! Poor Dustin must have been ropable! Still, well done to Jason for again picking a solid draft and making it to third spot. The big standout for Jason was Sue Storm, and I think she'll continue to do well in November, considering her solo title is still going, and she is of course, like The Thing, featured in the numerous FF titles out this month...it truly is a golden era for the FF in comics after a long drought, so expect to see the FF members firing in the FCL...

Cold Case Kurtz comes in at fourth at the end of October, just missing out by a whisker. Doctor Strange seems to have served him well (and I'm pretty sure he'll continue to do so in November) with modest totals from the Hulk and Thor. Dustin has already relinquished She-Hulk for another, so we'l see how his team fares in November...best of luck, Dustin (and Happy Birthday!)

Beloved Loony, The Power of Chad rounds out the division, and for me, the biggest upset here was Venom. With Absolute Carnage in full swing, I would have thought Venom to be cleaning up the points but perhaps with Absolute Carnage wrapping up in November, that may still be the case. Chad really needs more from Doctor Doom...I've not read the title, but with an issue out this month, let's hope for Chad's sake that Victor lays it on thick for his Latverian citizens! Modest totals from Black Panther and Conan provide the meat of Chad's score...again, let's hope there's more activity from T'Challa in both the Avengers book, his solo title and the Agents of Wakanda...! Similarly, Conan has his solo title, potential appearances in the spin off titles, and Savage Avengers...plenty of chances to light up that scoreboard!

So, at the half-way mark of the season, the standings for our Loonies are as follows:

Tommy - 4 points

Rey - 4 points

Jason - 4 points

Dustin - 1 point

Chad - 1 point

It's still anyone's game..if Dustin or Chad dominate in November and December, then they could certainly make a play for the title this season, and walk away with e free trade of their choice...!

In addition to that, Tommy, Jason and myself are in a good position to consolidate and potentially if either of us take out one of the coming months, then it would be hard to beat...

It's all still up for grabs!

I'm hoping to maybe get Brian Bradley and a couple of the Loonies from our division on the show as we get close to the end, to discuss more of the FCL and how things look like panning out...until then, we've got a bit more drafting to do, then it's all systems go!

THE COLLECTIVE, THE SPECTOR-CALL

It's fun being part of The Collective, and in addition to all the podcasts helping each other out...it's fun to listen to them all too! I've been catching up on a few of our colleagues, and as started last week, I'd like to SPECTOR-CALL them out here for your perusal...Give them a go if you're up for alternate things to listen to (but keep listening to us of course! hahaha)

Anyway, here's what's on display at Collective-Mart this week coming....

A shoutout to The Signal of Doom Podcast - Dave is really pumping hard and the Patreon push is in full swing! If you are a listener of the show, please consider being a patron. Dave is recording his first Patreon-exclusive episode and it'll be a review on 'Escape from New York' starring Kurt Russell!! Sounds very cool...

As mentioned earlier in the newsletter, I'll be guesting on the upcoming Sons of the Dragon - An Immortal Iron Fist Podcast, where I chat with host Connor, about Contagion #4 and #5. As I write this it hasn't dropped yet, so I can't give you a link, but it's bound to drop any minute now, so please just check their website for any updates!

CONTACT US!

Again, as mentioned, we'd love to hear your thoughts on Contagion too...I've posted up a Spoiler Thread in the FB Group and Page, so if that makes things easier, please drop your thoughts there...otherwise we have other ways in which you can contact us....

If you DON'T want your comments broadcast, please just add, "(DNB)" at the end of your comment, and we'll be sure not to broadcast it. We'll pick a few comments from here and discuss on the show!

Email: itkmoonknight@gmail.com

Podcast Page: http://intotheknight.libsyn.com

Facebook Page: Into the Knight - A Moon Knight Podcast

Facebook Group: Into the Knight - A Moon Knight Fan Base

Twitter: @ITKmoonknight

Discord ITK Server: ITK Server

GetVokl : Into the Knight Welcome Room

OK, I better shoot this off to the printers to get published...(yes, I am ye of olden day speak...you know what I mean!)...stick with us, it's always bound to be a surprise...! Hope to hear from you on any of our platforms and hope you like the upcoming episode!

May Khonshu Watch Over the Denizens of the (K)Night,

Rey

Proud Member of The Collective

  Remember! You can buy your official ITK merchandise at ...ITK Store Front @ TeePublic

Check out this episode!

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

Game #7: I’m Bad

The ring gave a noise somewhere between a clatter and a creak as Mike McGuire flopped to the canvas, panting. They had been doing solo workouts for the past hour and their black and green ringwear was quite damp- half from sweat and half from the bottle of water or two they’d drenched themselves with to cool down. Propping their chin in one hand, they looked across the yard toward the garden. A small plot of assorted flowers centralized around an orange Voodoo rosebush at the beginning of the summer, the garden had grown substantially since to include not only more flowers, but fruits and vegetables as well. A small patch of strawberries yielded a steady output of plump red berries, a few heads of leafy green cabbage were coming along nicely as were green beans, snap peas, and, Mike assumed, a row of carrots. Right now, the garden’s tender was seeing to several stakes of tomatoes, the bountiful crop a deep ruddy orange in the early summer sunlight. “Hey. Church. Gimme one of those, wouldya please?” He paused in his inspection of the leaves for any signs of beetles, turned to his partner slightly, and shook his head with a small smile. “They’re not ripe.” “C’mon, I don’t care, they look juicy as shit and I’m thirsty.” They pouted, but John was unmoved. “You’ll get sick. They’ll be ready in a few days.” He turned back to his work, putting a wordless finality on the subject. Mike groaned a bit and rolled to the side, snatching a half full bottle of Gatorade off the ring steps as well as their GoPro. There was a third object stowed to the side as well- a classic black and white mottled composition notebook neatly labeled ‘DAKOTA JENNINGS’. As with every other opponent they’ve ever had, John had used his keen observational skills and insight to keep a well documented record of the Firecracker, and had even made a few updates as pertaining to the match they’d had with her and her partner at Rite of Kings. Mike frowned sourly as they thought of it, rubbing the back of their head. They’d been lucky not to need stitches or come away with a concussion, but the spot where the chair had made contact was still sore even days after the fact. They’d had it. The Chimera Tag Team Championships were in their grasp, and ReKota had known it too. So out came the filthy tactics and steel chairs and at the end of it all, before Bishop Church could even see what was going on, Mike McGuire had hit the canvas and been rolled up for three. The ovation from the crowd, while appreciated, didn’t take away the sting as much as they would have liked. That had been that. And Mike was still angry at themself for it. Angry, and raw, and not just because of the screwy loss- because of what had played out on Twitter afterward. A typical snarky back and forth banter had ended ugly, and Mike wasn’t even sure that Cross or Dakota were aware of just how cruel what they’d said was. How could they? It’s not like Mike advertised the ugliest parts of their past. Huffing out a breath through their nose, Mike took a deep glug of the Gatorade- not, they sulkily thought, a juicy garden-fresh tomato- and wiped their mouth on the back of their hand, setting the GoPro across from them and clicking the record button on. You know, people say stupid stuff on Twitter all the time. The whole platform is made of people’s stupid comments, after all. I’m hardly immune either. Which is why 90 percent of what you jokers say on that thing doesn’t bother me. Hell, bantering back and forth with you and your… boyfriend? Fiance? Eh, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, it’s actually kinda fun. And then you went and ruined that. Let me let you in on something. You’re not the first people to tell me I have a hittable face. You’re not the first to tell me I’m about to get my face caved in. Let me tell you, Jennings, you and Reboca don’t want to be in the same league as that person. I doubt even you are that low. “Fuck.” Mike had clicked the GoPro off and was staring at it. That was stupid. The specter of Steve Archer hadn’t been exorcised half as much as Mike would have liked. A couple of sleepless nights prior had made that perfectly clear. Just thinking about it made Mike almost want to call out across the yard and have John join them for a little bit, hold onto him until they felt safe. But they were stronger than that, right? Besides, they had that… that one thing they couldn’t keep putting off. John was going to need them for support, not the other way around. Mike would be fine. They always were in the end. Reaching forward, they picked up the GoPro and erased what they just recorded, as if those words had never existed. Goodbye. They closed their eyes and took a few deep breaths. Felt their old reliable steel slide into place. No, there was no sense showing vulnerability where it wasn’t necessary. Dakota, whether on Cross’ direction or her own volition, would eat that shit alive. It’d be like a drop of blood in a tank full of starved great whites. They turned the camera back on and set it across from the ring, starting again in earnest with  that big sharkish smile. “So. How about Rite of Kings, Valor Pro faithful? Crazy as fuck, wasn’t it? I mean, Jesus Fuck, did Spiral vs. Aoki nearly make you hurl, too? Shit was fucking insane. Sure hope they catch that pale stickyfingered fucker- after all that, Aoki deserves that strap. I mean, I like the Zombies. They’re weird, but they’re my kind of weird. Cosmo Cooper… STILL has that Apex Championship, which I’m sure has Cross Reboca’s underwear in all kinds’a fuckin’ knots. Oh. And speaking of…” Mike’s face went utterly sour then, one hand combing sweat-damp hair out of their eyes. “Ya boys got beat. But it weren’t for lack of trying, Faithful, and it weren’t for lack of cheating on ReKota’s part. I mean, you all saw it, yeah? And if you didn’t, feel free to check out a summary on YouTube. I’ll wait.” The Bronx Brawler paused a moment, twisting their wrist as if looking at a watch. “Yeah, there, you see what I’m talkin’ about? This close. Just a fuckin’ hair, and all of the sudden Jennings and Reboca devolve into their cheap fuckin’ ways because at the end of the day? They know they can’t win fair against a team like me and Church. And it was a damn shame because we were actually having a good time. But, one thing led to another. Broken up pin, then a wallop to the back of my head, and good ol’ N-S-F-Dubs come out of our first Valor Pro Wrestling pay-per-view empty handed.” Tisking and shaking their head, Mike gave a sigh. “Which leads us to here. I’m going solo this week. Me vs. Dakota. And I got all this shit running through my head like a fuckin’ freight train about it. Lots to unpack, so let’s start with bitches talkin’ shit, shall we? Any idiot can talk shit these days. You just get yourself a Twitter account and start running your fool mouth, regardless of whether you got anything fucking relevant to say or even if you know what the blue hell you’re talking about. My opponent this week is no fucking exception. If she knew what the hell she was talking about, she’d know that the last thing my partner is is a ‘meathead’. But I digress.” They snorted, and in spite of themselves cast a look off camera that caused their expression to soften slightly. It’d be missed if you happened to blink, though, because a split second later had Mike facing forward once again, a cool smirk on their face. “Between calling herself our ‘daddy’ and calling me a fucking drunk, Dakota Jennings is proving herself to be just another internet tough guy who thinks they’re ten feet tall with their dick hanging in the dirt. Least, they were until Church said something in particular that seemed to sting a little. My partner, in his infinite wisdom, pointed out that your tendency to go all El Fucking Kabong on people when the chips are down was compensating for a lack of, y’know, any real fucking talent. And at that point, Jennings had a major case of e-cock shrinkage and started whining that such an accusation was ‘hurtful and untrue’.” That smirk began to grow into something distinctly more vicious. “Methinks the lady doth protest too fucking much. Now, I’ve done my homework. I know all about you. And I could sympathize. It fucking sucks to bust your ass and not have anybody take notice. There’s a few ways to tackle that problem constructively, none- I’ll repeat to get it through your skull, NONE- of them involve cracking skulls with wild abandon. But that’s what you did. That’s what you keep doing. And now? I think you’ve been relying so much on the chairs that you don’t know how to get by without them. Now, I challenged you to leave your folding steel special at home. And you said you would. But I don’t fucking believe you, Jennings. Why should I? Why would our little date in Peru be any different than the past few weeks?” Mike rolled their shoulders and tipped their head to the side twice, cracking their neck. “On the other hand, maybe this wouldn’t be the match you’d want to fucking ditch your only real advantage in. Do you know who I am? Have you done your homework like I have? In case you haven’t got yourself out from under Cross’ dick for the last few days, let me educate you. My name is Mike McGuire. I’ve trained at the feet of King Race himself. I’ve gone at people wrapped in barbed wire. I’ve dropped big hairy bitches fuckin’ thrice my size with a single punch. I am one half of the greatest pure tag team of this generation, and if I’m bragging about all this? I’m still being fucking sincere.” Suddenly, Mike’s expression darkened. They leaned forward, their tone gaining something borderline ominous. “I can play fucking dirty if I have to, Jennings. I relish that shit. You’ve been in that ring with me, you know what I can do with backup. You won’t be able to tag out this time, though. You won’t have anywhere to run. But I double dare you. Break your word and go for that fucking chair. Do that, Jennings, and you will be one fucking sorry bitch, because I ain’t gonna play that shit twice. You slither one more cheap victory against me out of your ass and your rich little boytoy is gonna be pushing you to the next show in a fucking wheelchair. See you in South America, Firecrotch.” Their harsh expression remained on their face, even as they reached forward to click off the camera. Mike leaned back against the ropes, letting out a long exhale. Perhaps, they thought, they shouldn’t show John that one. They were pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of the violent threats that they’d dropped. But the thing was? Mike meant every last word. They were as sick of Dakota’s shit as they imagined Ms. Byrne was, but Mike didn’t have the power to fire anyone. They did, however, have the power to do horrible things to people. Things they hoped it wouldn’t come to, but couldn’t make promises it wouldn’t. Sighing, they rolled over, laid on their stomach in the shade of the spreading maple, and watched John tend his garden with a tender affection they almost envied.