#how did you get hired to write about a character that it seems you've never even heard of before

[damianbugs]

sometimes i'll read the most horrendous batman comic and think wow... bro (writer) has not read a single batman comic in their life

[liminal-storage]

VI-The Lovers

Prompt: Free Write

Characters: Soren Lessard, Auriga and Vincent Marlowe.

Content Warnings: Blood, very mild suggestive themes, death.

Note: This is a direct follow-up to this piece.

"What's the matter, dear hunter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

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

The first time they met, her hair had been dyed blue. As deep and vibrant as the snowcapped mountains not so far away, such a color drew his attention immediately.

His boots were off, handed over to a goblin tinkerer nearby for a much needed mending. Said tinkerer was taking far longer than necessary because he...she? Soren could never tell the difference, and he'd had the privilege of watching Idyllshire spring up from nothing. Regardless, his tinkerer seemed engrossed in conversation with an identical looking goblin, who in turn looked to be making some sort of deal with the blue haired young woman.

She certainly looked striking. The blue dye made her hair shine in the moonlight, almost as deep and dark as the sea. It made the bright teal of her eyes all the more vibrant. But Soren knew he wouldn't have bothered to notice her at all were it not for a particularly enticing perfume that kept wafting his way.

With notes of sour cherries and vetiver, wine and sleepy poppy, sweet honey and vanilla, it clung to his nostrils. Strangely, it reminded him of the taste of freshly spilled blood, thick and warm. It made the points of his fangs ache, but soon someone joined the blue haired woman and he forgot about her scent.

The second figure was tall, especially for a Hyur. His white-blond hair reflected the light of the evening's full moon, and when he turned Soren could see eyes as vibrant teal as the woman's. The woman looked Soren's way before laughing, standing on tiptoe to whisper into the other man's ear.

The pair of them faced him with bright smiles in identical styles of alluring. A single long scar spanned from the man's left eye down to his chin in a smooth, straight line. It made his smile look ever so slightly lopsided even though it was not.

Soren stared, enthralled.

"What's the matter, dear hunter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Startled, his attention snapped to the woman again, since she had so rudely interrupted him by speaking.

"Mm?"

"You are a hunter, are you not?"

"How would you know such a thing?" Soren felt oddly defensive.

"Your clothes." The man spoke. "She...pardon, we are traveling to the outskirts of the Great Gubal Library, and we've been discussing hiring someone to guide us along the way. Ari here seems to think you're a local, judging by your attire."

"Ah."

That explained the whispering, but he couldn't shake the thought that the young woman must be teasing him for staring at her companion.

"Well, she would be correct. Though I don't call Idyllshire my home, I did grow up around here. I know the Hinterlands quite well."

"Then would you be willing? To accompany us, I mean." The man smiled again and Soren hesitated.

He did not treat with mortals unless he had no other choice. Aside from taking his meals as needed, he felt content to keep his existence as separate from theirs as possible. That wasn't to say he despised them. Their existence was simply better off without him getting involved.

So he certainly never served as a guard or guide for any of them. Killing the fell beasts which threatened them was the closest he got to "contributing to society."

Yet the man's vibrant eyes and the woman's intoxicating perfume compelled him to agree. Without meaning to, he found himself nodding.

"Excellent! My name is Vincent, and this nosy little lady is Auriga. We will, of course, pay you for your services. How does a sennight of work sound to you?"

Vincent.

He quite liked how that name rolled off the tongue.

"A sennight is fine. But I have a caveat. We only travel at night."

The sibling pair exchanged glances for a moment, but if they found the request to be odd they didn't have anything to say about it.

"Very well. We travel at dusk then, beginning tomorrow," Vincent agreed.

"I suggest having him lead rather than follow, else our trip take longer than the allotted time because he finds himself too engrossed with staring at you."

The woman winked, her teasing tone doing wonders to soothe what might otherwise become a rising temper. Soren had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

By the end of the first night, it became glaringly obvious that Auriga was trying to set him up with her brother.

By the third, both siblings already knew what he was.

By the fifth night, he'd gone to bed with Vincent twice and drank from him both times.

On the sixth night, he spoke with Auriga until the sun threatened to rise over the mountaintops.

And when the eighth night ended, Soren knew that Vincent had come to the Hinterlands to die, with Auriga his doula of death.

One sennight became two, because the thought of escorting the man to his death made his gut churn. It only delayed the inevitable. He cursed the entity that drove the man to this desperation. He cursed himself too, for falling in such a short amount of time.

Soren did not treat with humans. He loved them too much to subject them to a predator in their midst.

He fulfilled his promise. Guided them to their destination and guarded them from a couple of hungry wayward bears who got a little too close during the trek. He did not beg Vincent to reconsider. Instead kissed the inside of his wrist with his teeth, taking one last taste to remember before looking away.

Afterward, he and Auriga fell into one another in grief.

-----------

Soren stared up at Auriga and her still-dripping fingertips. He searched her face and found her smiling in that tender, sort-of heartbroken way that an old friend who you shared a loss with tends to do. He tried to smile back, only serving to bare his fangs. Auriga laughed and reached to brush his hair out of his face, and only then did he realize he'd sunken to his knees in front of her.

"Hey, there. It's been too long. You aren't looking so good, you know."

"I don't feel it, either," he agreed.

The smell of her blood and perfume made him sick with grief and hunger, and she did not stop him when his tongue darted out to lick up the spilled drops. He followed their trail all the way up to the crook of her arm where his tongue caressed the little puncture wound she'd made with a fingernail.

Her free hand moved to stroke the back of his head and his eyes drifted shut. He bit down and her blood flooded his mouth and she did not stop him. It was not lost on him that such a gift was being freely given. There, in the half-dark room swirling with perfume and candle smoke, Soren reflected on that which they'd lost.

And he steeped in the thought that perhaps he'd always loved them both.

[yanderelovlies]

What about the chubby y/n, who performs on a children's show, performing two roles? A funny clown for young children, who teaches safety to have fun, and the second show, where the sad clown y/n for teenagers, helps them with their experiences and the restructuring of the body, and so on. I will hope that you will answer , this is my own old fantasy, so I will be grateful if you don't ignore it (although do as you want, I like everything you write :)).

Mmmm so like two roles on the same show?? Let me take a Crack hun! I made this more fluffy comforting and with Joseph embracing the role of Jack a little too well in mind.

When you were first hired to The SunnyTime Crew Show you were supposed to be childrens entertainer. You were a beautiful colorful clown named Tiny Tatters. You knew of the irony of your name, but you couldn't complain when they were signing those pretty checks you needed to survive…..not they would listen to you anyway. Despite that little hiccup you quite enjoyed your job. You taught kids how to safely do tie dye art, and other fun crafts with clothes

However as the show progressed it oddly enough attracted a teenage audience along with a children audience. So as an experiment they made you play the side role of Patches. Patches was the twin of Tiny Tatters, and they never seemed to fit in with the others. So they were often alone, and were only spotted in Tiny Tatters Tailored Emporium when tiny wasn't there. The teens were quick to attach themselves to this character, and through little crafts, and hobbies they were able to teach the Teens good ways to handle emotions, body image, and acceptance. 

They children and teens were not the only ones attached to you it seemed. As some of your female coworkers have pointed out how Joseph likes to watch both of your bits off stage, a smile adoring his features. It was hard to believe those rumors until you caught him yourself one day. During your Patches role you had to look off to the side to grab one of your materials when you saw him. His eyes met yours shamelessly before looking away a blush dusted his cheeks as he chuckled. 

Your head was still spinning from that interaction as you undressed and washed off make-up. The day was long over and yet you could get the way he looked at you out of your head. He looked at you as if you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. You've never had someone look at you like that. Did he mean it? Or was it another sick joke? Honestly you were scared to find out.

Seemed fate other plans as you sat in front of your mirror in your little dressing room brushing out your hair when a knock came from your door.

“Who is it?”

“Ja-Joseph.” you could feel your breath catch in your throat. You don't know if you can face him so soon. You knew he would give you the answers to the scary question that has been haunting you all day.

However, you also knew you didn't have it in you to keep him standing out there. So shaky sigh you called him in. He was hesitant at first, but he eventually walked into your dressing room. Upon entering he couldn't help but smile. The room was entirely you from the decor to the smell. He liked it a lot. His eyes traveled down to you, and he watched your fidget with your hair for a bit. Seeing as nervous as he was put him to ease as he sat in one of the chairs behind you.

“D-did you need me for something?” making eye contact with him through the mirror was easier than looking directly at him. 

He watched you for a bit longer before he finally responded “yes actually.” He reached over and put his hand on your shoulder indicating he wanted to look at you directly. Nervously you turned to him as he left your shoulder. “I need you for this date I've been planning for the two of us….this saturday.” 

You could feel your jaw drop to the floor. He was interested in…actually into you. You wanted to accept, and throw yourself into his arms, but instead what came out of your mouth hurt both of you. “Are you sure….?”

You watch as his eyebrows scrunch, and his look goes from hope to worry “What do you mean?”

You look down as you feel your face burn with shame. “I'm nothing like some of our other coworkers….or the moms who come to visit you on occasion…surely you could do better?” You hear Joseph stand from his seat as he closes the gap between the two of you. He knelt down in front of you taking your face in his hands as his thumbs rubbing soothingly across your cheeks 

“You know sunshine you should listen to your own advice you give the kids….I think you're beautiful the way you are, and you're the one i want to woo and make mine.” he titled his head down so his red eyes met yours “If you let me.”

You weren't sure what came over you, but you pulled him into a hug and held him tight. This was real. He really wanted to go on a date with you….and possibly more. How could you say no?

“I would love to go out with you…” you mumbled into his shoulder hoping he heard you. He did and he could help but hold you a little tighter.

[the-little-moment]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 17

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 59,681. The total number of words in my gdocs is so much higher. 😬

3. What fandoms do you write for? Star Wars The Clone Wars and Star Wars The Bad Batch. I've got some Republic Commando thoughts swirling around too.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Little One When everything becomes too much, Cadet Hunter, his brothers, and their favorite doctor help Tech through a meltdown. 2. Only What Burns You Back In "Not Just the Carcass, but the Spark", Chief Medical Officer Dr. Senna Divehdi escapes the Empire, and a mind-controlled Crosshair, to join the rest of the Bad Batch in their search for freedom. In this story, however, she chooses to stay with Crosshair, and that choice changes everything. 3. The Quiet Part An injury brings Crosshair back to Kamino, where he says more than he means to. This is pre Order 66. 4. Not Just the Carcass, but the Spark Dr. Senna Divehdi has known the four original members of Clone Force 99 since they were children. When they rescue an ARC Trooper called Echo from the Techno Union, Senna assists in his recovery in the hospital on Kamino and is delighted when he chooses to join the Bad Batch. The end of the war finally comes, but with it, none of the peace they had expected. 5. A Small Visit A Cadet Tech fic. Four years after she was first hired as part of the Republic's secret cloning project on Kamino, Dr. Senna Divehdi is surprised by a late night visit.

5. Do you respond to comments? Yep! I love comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably my one shot Broken Promises about Crosshair, although honorable mentions go to Twisted Smoke and A Tender Memorial.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of my long fics are still in progress, but The Heart Grows Fonder and The Quiet Part are sweet one shots with happy endings.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Funnily, only from people who haven't actually read them.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not really. Some of my in progress fics will eventually get to sex, but I've never written smut for its own sake.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have not.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but I wrote Twisted Smoke as a follow up to a one shot I loved called Flame Snuffed Out by the lovely @kybercrystals94.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Of canon characters? Probably Fox/Riyo.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I really plan to finish them all!

16. What are your writing strengths? Angsty internal monologue. Descriptive language.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Coming up with things that I really wish I'd thought to put in a story earlier. Action 😭.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm only fluent in English so that doesn't seem like a good idea. If I ever did, I'd put the appropriate research in.

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Bad Batch.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Only What Burns You Back. It's what made me fall in love with Crosshair. I also cherish A Small Visit and Little One because thinking about tiny cadet Tech was what first inspired me to write fanfiction. 💕

Tagging @kybercrystals94, @just-here-with-my-thoughts, @aggy72, @freesia-writes

@clonethirstingisreal I know you've only got the one so far, but I think you could still answer a bunch of these if you'd like!

[my-mt-heart]

Ok im gonna try to bring a bit of positivity here even if it might not seem like it at first lol. U might have seen (but i think u avoid twitter right?) Carol being attacked these last few hours/days regarding Sophia/Ed. How she supposedly let Sophia being sexually abused by Ed without doing nothing. How she screamed to Shane "stop!" and cried when he beat up Ed. Meaning she was weak and ridiculous, again.

First of all i think (correct me if im wrong) that its considered canon that Ed didnt abuse (sexually, that is) Sophia... yet, because he died, but he would have had tried to had he lived because he saw her "growing up" and was a sick psycho. And Carol acted on it by having Sophia taken physically far away from her father if i recall well (dont have the exact scene in mind hence why im vague).

Second of all, this is bullshit obviously. Those people have never been abused and it shows. How its hard to leave, because you still love him and actually believe him when he says he wont hurt u again. Because he's a "great father" and "only" hit you and not ur children (its stastically rare i think but it does happen). I've worked with a lot of women beaten up by their husbands (and believe it or not, a few man with their wives too. Even husbands with husbands or wives with wives. Again, more rare but still here) and all combinations exist: women dont give a shit anymore, wont forgive, and only wants to leave and/or ptotect their children, woman who cant leave because they still see the "amazing" man he was for the first 10 years, or the first 3 years. Or says things like "he was beaten up when he was a child by his dad so its not his fault. "

ALL combinations exist, no one knows what its like to be in the head or the heart of a beaten 's wife/person, and no one should judge someone's way of coping with it, dealing with it, reacting to it. It is NEVER the victims fault, even if in the case of a beaten's wife, she stays with the husband.

Sorry, so, this disgression to say that Carol was insulted yesterday and so on for staying with Ed and not protecting Sophia.

The goods news (and here comes the positive part lol) is that for once, everyone was coming at these assholes (who, yes, happened to be Richonners, but NO, not all Richonners are this way, absolutely NOT).

And when i mean everyone, i mean even those who usually dont say shit when Carol (and therefore Melissa) is called ugly and/or too old for Daryl. Even those who dont ship caryl and/ or dont particularly like Carol are saying "ohh hell noo, too far, u re not victim blaming Carol here, absolutely not". Even the "kind of official fan accounts" followed by stars of the show.

So, while i wish she was defended more often already for the ageist and sexist part of the attacks she suffers, its still comforting to see that this time, everybody or almost see how too far they have gone and reacted accordingly.

Sorry if im clumsy in my way of writing or presenting things, english is not my native language, hope i did ok.

First of all, thank you for all you've done for survivors of domestic abuse and for sharing your insight. I heard about the incident through the grapevine and it was nice to go back and see all the support Carol was getting from all sides :)

Even though we have to be responsible for what we say on SM, I don't think it should just be left up to the fans to create a safer environment for them (and even cast and crew) to interact with each other. We should also put pressure on AMC to stop fueling the sexism, ageism, racism, etc. seen not just in one particular subset of the fanbase, but across the board. For example, how about making Carol the same size as Daryl in the key art so people can literally see her as a lead character? How about abandoning the ambiguous language around Caryl's relationship so people can understand that, yes, a middle-aged woman with gray hair can be the middle-aged male lead's love interest and vice versa? How about hiring someone who actually supports their characters and their relationship to run the official SM accounts? That's the kind of change I'd love to see.

[freya-rat-face]

Apparently I'm just going to think about it literally every time I think about publishing at all and get angry at you every single time.

The thing you said that was so fucking devastating was that turning our stories into books compromised the stories themselves.

You had never really supported the books part of the idea, with lines varying from "doing too much" and "why are you worried about it" and "who cares" and finally during that discussion, telling me that using traditional story structure with the desire to be published was selling out.

That you feel like publishing is selling out is the part I'm calling you telling the truth. The "questioned in a way I shouldn't have" part, you seem to have forgotten most of the conversation. Because first, the day before, during the argument about story structure, I asked what you thought an editor did.

So the next day, after looking it up, you came to me to ask if I knew what I was trying to do. "There's THREE editing processes!"

"Yeah, I know, and I'm still on the first one."

"You've got to hire an agent!"

"Yeah, I'm familiar with the querying trenches."

"And THEN there's the publishers getting to tell you what to write!"

"They get to tell me what they'll publish and I get to decide if I'm chill with that, but yeah."

"And there's cover art and production and they pay you with an advance, so you might never get paid for the book sales!"

"Yeah, I know. I still want to."

"WHY?!?"

Okay?

After three days of arguing with me about writing a book with normal book structure.

It wasn't just, "I wanna publish."

"Oh really, how come?"

You attacked the entire idea.

AFTER making me feel like shit for wanting to write a book instead of stories.

I want to go back to creating with you, but the way you hurt me like that set me back by all ten years of progress. I am back to being afraid to share anything. It was hard for me for a very long time to tell you the name "Tinian" because I was afraid you would think it was stupid. And to find out that you feel that way about writing books when that's what I've been trying to do for so long, I feel humiliated for admitting it aloud and ashamed of myself for wanting to sell out and being angry at you for making me feel that way because that's NOT what it is, but I can't argue with you about it because every time I try to tell you about it, you attack me because you have no idea what else to do.

I don't know what to tell you. You want me to know how it feels to know I can't take something back, to say something I can't undo when, first, I am indeed haunted by a bunch of mean or stupid shit I said to people that didn't deserve it; and second-- come up with a thing I could do or say that would leave a permanent mark, and let me say it. You said a thing you can't undo. I'm fucking sorry. Maybe instead of knee-jerk reacting, consider what the fuck you wanna say.

Anagod was the greatest gift you gave me. (Of your own accord, the kids aren't in the running because of v the specificity of "you" and also the kids didn't really let there be a lot of choice.)

But Anagod was the greatest gift you ever gave me.

You made me feel like shit about my part in it. You hated world building and constantly demanded that I stop doing it and just let it Be That Way, because it's fantasy and not everything has to make sense. You eventually came around to what I did to the characters but you wanted that hollow "just cos it's cool" shit for so long. Rath and Eupa were empty shells of violence until they became full shells of violence. You picked on my constant rewrites and edits, without fail, because "why are you worried about it"

You always liked the writing stories, you never liked my efforts in writing books.

And you've been so busy defending yourself that you can't see what you've done and apologize. You're mad at me for taking that attack personally. You're upset that you can't fix the damage you caused because you assume I'm refusing to let you. You fucking broke it. That's all there is to it. I'm afraid to share. I don't want you to think I'm doing something silly ever again.

It wasn't some, "oopsie, I said something wrong", you made EXTREMELY clear that you HATED the idea of me turning our stories into books and publishing them.

And now I'm humiliated and I feel like a block in your creative process and at the very best, in general, I feel stupid trying to create with you anymore because I'm convinced that any attempt to write anything will invite ridicule because you now know my end goal and you think it's stupid.

So now I can't create with you and I regarded that as a very important part of our relationship. I'm glad it wasn't as important to you as to me, but it's kind of a problem for me.

Maybe you shouldn't have made me feel like shit for wanting to write a book. I don't know what to tell you. I can't go back to, "yeah but we had a great time before," because you made me feel like shit the whole time. I was so fucking excited when I started working on the themes and you didn't get it and you mocked the rewrites and the process and every step of development and learning was met with you wanting to know why I thought I was improving.

Yeah, we had a great time creating before, but that was before you called me a sell-out. Now you know I'm a sell-out. Fuck no I don't want you seeing me do this anymore. Stop fucking looking at me.

You're right that it's not fair that you can't undo it. I'm sorry. You told the truth. "But I didn't mean it" is the shittiest defense after attacking my goals for three fucking days. "I want you to sell out" is all I can hear, along with every mite of sincerity you can muster (none). "If it'll make you happy" sure. Yeah. Okay. That's totally a positive, encouraging message. It totally undoes three days of mocking me and my goal.

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

Slashers and Horror Characters SoulmateAU

:Where you get your soulmate's scars(pt2)

part 1 here

Warnings: scars, kinda angsty?, ooc Pinhead

Characters: Brahms and Pinhead

Soulmate AU Masterlist

Just to clarify:Pinhead's 'scars' are wounds on him, but let's say it's still scars(you've got the lines where is nails are on his face)

A/N: I'm getting back into writing, yay

-

Brahms Heelshire

Since he's kinda still a child, Brahms obviously still thinks about the soulmate thing, but what he really didn't like about it was that you'd have his scars. He felt pretty guilty about them, and thought that you would look ugly with half your body scarred. So, he thought that he might feel less attracted to you. It was pretty much the opposite, he'd realize once he sees you entering the Heelshire mansion.

He thought you'd have something covering the other half of your face, but you clearly didn't, and didn't seem bothered by it as you talked with his parents, the latters smiling sadly at you. It certainly wasn't random that they'd picked you, they'd been almost a hundred percent sure that you were Brahms' soulmate, you unfortunately didn't know it atm.

He tried to wait a bit, not wanting to scare you, but he couldn't hold himself. That's why as soon as one day passed, you started hearing the strange noises in the wall. The day later, you found him sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, his mask off and his gaze on the floor as he waited for your reaction, wondering if you'd scream, run off, or try to call the cops even though he made sure to cut the phone's cord.

You and Malcom had joked about you being Brahms soulmate after he told you about what happened, and the nanny situation. You had immediately thought about the fact that it was really strange that the Heelshire hire nannies for a doll, you knew something was up.

Brahms was taken aback when he heard your inhale, then saw you eyeing the burnt half of his face, mostly hidden by his curls.

''B-Brahms...?'' Your voice definitely took him by surprise as he looked up, watching you carefully coming closer to him, then surprisingly sit beside him.

His body had tensed, his shoulders almost up to his cheeks, until one of your shaky hands gently came to craddle the damaged side of his face, turning it towards yours. Your hand was surprisingly cold, which almost made him lean his warm face in it.

''..Hi..'' Your eyes locked with his, a small soft smile on your lips. ''..soulmate...''

Pinhead

He obviously didn’t care, didn’t even think/give a flying shit about his soulmate.

He never really thought about his soulmate, not when people didn’t mention it. He honestly didn’t believe he even had one, because he became a cenobite and everything he did.

Maybe how you’d meet would be with you opening the box. As soon as him, Deepthroat, Butterball and Chatterer appear, he'd be taken aback for (almost?) the first time in his cenobite life. He'd be a lost for words, speechless. Which would make his sidekicks(?) the same way.

He could feel his inner human take place as his body would soften, seeing the fear in your eyes as his dark and usually cold ones looked at the visible familiar scars on your face. For once, he didn't feel pity as he looked at a human, he almost felt.... sad?? guilty???? Those emotions almost scared him.

He'd spare you, and would kill anything and anyone who would try and do you harms. He'd probably lock you away too, since I don't think he'd try and make you one of them. You're the only real good thing in his life, and he'd make sure to cherish you, even if it's totally out of character for him.

You'd actually kind of become his pet in a way... take that in anyway you want it.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Matching Scars - Victor Zsasz X GN Reader

Title: Matching Scars

Victor Zsasz X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Roman, Dinah (Mentioned)

WC: 1,153

Warnings: Very dark, knives, yelling, mentions of tantrums, mentions of death, mentions of killing, a bit graphic, suggestive, blood, first time writing for Victor, and scars.

Picking up the fallen pillows, you sighed as Roman angrily left the room, yelling expletives. You began working for Roman only a year ago, and you still weren't used to his tantrums. He had hired you as a sort of back-up. If for any reason, Zsasz wasn't available, you would do the dirty work. But, since Zsasz was always available, you were downgraded to his maid of sorts.

Victor Zsasz was intimidating for sure. He was tall, with scars on his face and the base of his neck. He relished in people's fear and their knowledge that he was the one in power, holding their lives in his hands. His eyes were an intense shade of brown, like deadly chocolate, which seemed to pierce through your soul when he looked at you. It was hard not to be intimidated by him. He knew it too, which is why he made sure to use that intimidation against others.

Though Zsasz was intimidating, that didn't stop you from having a crush on the man. He never took notice of you, or that's what you thought. Victor Zsasz was a very handsome man. You found him irresistible. The scars on his face made him look dangerous, yet alluring. His lips were full and plump, making them look so soft and inviting.

Even in the beginning, after you had messed up and Roman ordered Victor to cut you, that didn't deter you from him. He let you choose where, which surprised you. You knew where you wanted it, you've fantasized about it for a while. Mouth slightly agape, Victor pulled the collar of your shirt down a little, and slowly dug the knife into your shoulder, sliding it down. Blood quickly oozed from the open wound, making you hiss slightly, closing your eyes.

🗡🗡🗡

Mindlessly, you placed your hand on your shoulder. Mind-wandering as you bit your lip. Feeling the slightly raised scar from over your shirt. You noticed that after your cut fully healed, you would place your hand on your shoulder as anxiety relief. And, it did help. It was like you were closer to Victor somehow.

You didn't know it but Victor had fallen for you as well, though he wouldn't admit it. Victor had been intrigued by you ever since he first laid eyes on you. He admired how strong and brave you were. You didn't flinch when he gave you a scar. And, he loved whenever you did Roman's dirty work.

He had to admit, watching you get information from someone was alluring. You looked so innocent, yet you could easily get anything out of someone. It was like a game to you, getting information from others. And, it worked every time. People would spill everything they knew, even if they thought they were safe.

Watching from across the room, Victor leaned against the wall staring at you. Watching as you placed a hand on your shoulder, looking around the room at all the mess Roman had made. He smirked to himself, remembering the day he gave you that scar. He remembered how you whimpered when he pierced the skin. He felt bad, but he also enjoyed seeing the scar on your flesh. Smirking, he walked over to you. Placing his hand on your shoulder, feeling the raised scar under your shirt. You flinched slightly, pulling away from him.

"What do you want, Victor? I'm busy." You spoke, going back to cleaning the room.

"Does it hurt?" He asked and you raised an eyebrow, turning back around to face him, you watched him as she eyes your shoulder.

"Oh... No, it doesn't." You spoke, nervously. "It just feels weird, having this scar here." You touched the scar again, rubbing it softly.

"I think it looks good on you." He whispered to you, leaning close to your ear.

You blushed, looking down at the floor. "Thank you." You spoke quietly.

Slowly bringing his hand up, Victor grazed the shirt, slowly dragging the collar down and over your shoulder, just like he did when he gave the scar in the first place. Your breath hitched as he did so, looking up at him as he stared down at the scar on your skin.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked him, feeling nervous.

"Because I want to." He answered, gently touching the scar.

You shivered, you looked into his brown eyes, as he stared with some unknown emotion into yours.

Digging a hand into his pocket, Victor pulled out a small switchblade, handing it to you. You took the knife, glancing from it at him, confused. Victor began to unbutton his shirt, slowly revealing the possible hundreds of scars from his kills. Face red, you watched in awe, tentevely reaching your hand out and touching the scars on his chest.

"It's your turn." He whispered to you, taking your hand and kissing it.

You blushed, watching as he held your hand in his, opening the switchblade, bringing the both of your hands over to his shoulder, a small spot was unmarred, all for you. Breathing out as the cold silver touched him, he stared into your eyes as he pressed the knife deeper in his shoulder, slowly dragging it down just like he did with yours. Blood quickly bled out of the new wound, sliding down his chest and side.

You gasped, your eyes widening as you saw the knife go deeper into him. Stopping, he pulled your hands away and closed the knife.

"Why did you do that?" You ask breathily, taking his hand in yours and quickly taking him to the guest bathroom. Victor watched in amusement as you grabbed a cloth, going back over to him and cleaning up the blood on his skin.

"I want to match," He answered, kissing your cheek.

"What do you mean?" You questioned, wiping the last of the blood from his skin.

"I want people to know that you're mine." He answered, smiling.

"I know your little secret." He continued, smirking, leaning in closer.

"My secret?" You ask, trying to look away, but you couldn't.

"Yes, one you thought I wouldn't notice." He answered, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"What is it?" You question, curious.

But, you felt the unease and anxiety fill your every breath. Had he found out? Did Dinah tell him?

"That you have a crush on me." He answered, smiling. "And, that I have a crush on you."

You blushed, feeling yourself heat up. "What?" You questioned him, keeping eye contact with him.

"I've known since the day we met." He spoke, placing his hand on the scar on your skin, gently rubbing over the slightly puffed pink scar.

"That you were mine. And, I was yours." He smirked, sliding his hand up and behind your neck, pressing his lips to yours.

You felt your knees buckle, as Victor pulled you closer to him, kissing you passionately. He pushed you against the sink, placing his hands on either side of you. Pulling back, Victor brushed his fingers against your collarbone, he seemed like he wanted to say something but a yell cut him off.

"Zsasz!"

Both of you jumped up, looking over at Roman who was standing in the doorway.

"What's going on here?" Roman asked, as Victor hesitantly stepped toward Roman.

Subtly, standing in front of you, protecting you.

You blushed furiously, pulling your shirt back over your shoulder. "Nothing." You lied, looking away from him.

Roman glared at you for a moment, before sighing. "Go clean yourself up." He ordered, glaring at Victor in disgust at the clotting blood on his shoulder. "I have someone I need you to go find."

"Of course, boss," Victor replied, looking at Roman, eyes hard in job mode.

Victor glanced back at you before leaving the room. Roman then turned to you, glaring, a deep frown on his face. Gesturing with his arm at his main living room, he huffed.

"Get this cleaned up."

You nodded quickly, "Yes, boss." Before pushing out of the bathroom and going back to work.

Though, you couldn't help but bite back a huge smile from the moments before. You just couldn't wait until Victor got back.

[sophsicle]

hey there!

some of the asks you've answered have put my very very complicated feelings into the perfect words (that i wouldn't have been able to come up with) so i have an ask for you...

dissect albus dumbledore for me. what is your take on that man. i would absolutely love to hear if you like him, hate him, how you think he impacted everything. like write me an essay, i'm dying to know what you think!!

also, choices has me in a chokehold. i am truly and completely obsessed.

Hello lovely! Oh man, I honestly have so many thoughts on Dumbledore. I think that Dumbledore is extremely intelligent and that creates a bit of a barrier between him and everyone around him. He's just so ahead of all of them, intellectually and magically, that he finds it hard to relate and easy to turn people into objects, there for his use. It seems to me that he does things specifically to see how people will react. Like he's playing with them. And I know we're given other motivations that are less sinister, but I've never been able to shake the feeling that he's bored and using the people around him to entertain himself. Like letting Harry compete in the Triwizard Tournament just to see what happens, or putting Sirius in Grimmauld Place with nothing to do, or letting Draco try and fail to kill him. I just think that the way he goes about things, it always feels to me like he's testing people, poking at their weak spots, and yeah he has other reasons for making those choices, but I think he could have approached those situations differently and he doesn't because he likes watching people squirm. In the last chapter I bring up how I've always felt that Dumbledore really uses Remus. Like he lets this kid into school, uses him in his war, and then when it's done completely forgets about him. Like why doesn't he offer Remus a job at Hogwarts right away? Why does he only hire him in Harry's third year ? Personally, I think it's because, until Harry is in the picture and the second war is imminent, Remus isn't useful to Dumbledore so he doesn't care. Same with Sirius. He believes Hermione and Harry too fast in POA, for me to accept that he didn't know, or at least suspect, that Sirius was innocent, and he did nothing because Sirius wasn't useful to him. In OOP I think Dumbledore shuts Sirius up in that house because Sirius being healthy and present interferes with Dumbledore's control of Harry. I also, have always felt, that Dumbledore specifically dislikes Sirius because Sirius can't be controlled. And I think Sirius getting himself killed was what Dumbledore was hoping for - that making him feel useless would push him to act rashly.

Going off that, Dumbledore seems to be obsessed with control. Having the members of the Order not tell each other where they are going or what they're doing is all about control. He wants to be the one with all the information. Putting Harry with the Dursleys instead of Remus or the Weasleys (after Harry's first year) I think is also about control. He wants Harry isolated and feeling indebted to him when he whisks him away to Hogwarts every year (like Remus) (Also I know, I know, protective love-blood magic or whatever, but I'm just saying, I think there are other factors at play in that decision). I always think of Voldemort and Dumbledore as a bit of a Sherlock/Moriarty dynamic. Like Dumbledore almost needs Voldemort to challenge him, needs the war to stop him from getting bored. I think he kinda gets off on it. BUT that's just my opinion, and it's definitely an interpretation of canon not a straight forward reading so obviously you could see Dumbledore's character in different ways :)

[gillianthecat]

The Devil Judge: Episode 7

I just finished The Devil Judge and something about this show compelled me to take copious notes - it had emotional intensity and layers of mystery. These are long and rambling, so they're likely not of interest to anyone else, but since I spent all that time writing it I decided, why not post it. Perhaps someone will find it interesting.

Below are my moment-to-moment reactions, predictions and analysis as I watched episode 7.

eps 1&2  ep3  ep4  ep5  ep6  ep7  ep8  ep9   ep10  ep11  ep12  ep13  ep14  ep15  ep16

I wrote about my initial impressions, up to episode 5, here and here.

This is cleaned up only slightly. I followed the spelling given in the Viki subtitles. I mostly don't explain what I'm reacting to, so this will probably only make sense if you've seen the episode recently. Occasionally I give timestamps.

I'm worried all the plots and counterplots won't make sense. But they usually don't; it's just about the vibes. Which would be fine, but it would be really exciting if they day. 

Getting more focus on the tv/public image mob rule stuff, and I'm starting to think the show is not going to have much meaningful or interesting to say on the topic. I think because the public is portrayed as a single entity, credulous and easily swayed, so they're just a pawn in the political game. And there isn't much to say about pawns. At first I was hopeful because of the aesthetics of the show, but it turns out the focus is on the powerful. 

So if public attention and/or opinion is useful in anyone's plots we'll see it, but otherwise it will be ignored. Or if they want it for its vibe and aesthetic. 

Is Judge Oh really this naïve? She seems to be a stand-in for the public. so yes she's going to be shown as naïve, to voice what the person-on-the-street might be thinking. Which is too bad because I thought she was going to be interesting with her poor rural background, her ambition, and her interest in playing the media game. But I suspect any cohesiveness as a character she might have will get drowned if the story needs a mouthpiece for public opinion. Hopefully I'm wrong. She will still be ambitious etc, but only when it's convenient for the story. 

Of course Judge Kang would hire someone he thought he could manipulate easily. 

And now she's maybe being insightful again?

She's also sometimes expressing the extreme distillation of G's thoughts of feeling. 

Judge Oh and her upside down reflection in the glass table as she's thinking about how to political intrigue. 

(7:30) JSA's glass walled stone and metal house.  Very empty and full of reflections. 

This skincare routine looks like product placement but I don't think it is. JSA just never drops her mask, even alone. Has she forgotten she had any other self? Does she not trust that she's ever alone? When your whole house is windows...

(8:20) And it turns out she wasn't alone. Does Jae Hui live with her? I'm curious about their relationship. 

JSA backstory implications? Real emotions? 

What is honest and what is performance here, and who is she performing for? 

Interesting. This is the first time we've seen her with no sexuality in her performance of self. She performing big sister instead. 

She was 12 when she started at the Kangs'

Oh, and she's switched back to her seductive persona, perhaps?. She's dropped whatever honesty was involved, and I'm pretty sure there was some honesty there.  But this is another kind of honest, maybe even more so, she's telling them her core belief and I think she really wants to help them. She's big sister again 

Does she not think any of the adults here are important enough to harm her? Or is she caught up in identifying with the girls so she doesn't really notice them? 

Is that what she did to chairmen Seo? 

That heartbreaking question at 16:45. 

Did JSA kill her mother at 12? Oh shit. Well she killed now. 

(18:00) Elijah. Thank you for asking the question for me. 

Immediately following the orphanage we get E and Y's argument about guardianship. 

Oh my god this whole scene was amazing.

(25:46) An all out media war was instigated. Prez evoking xenophobia. Paying for tips? 

I love these rows of journalists on their laptops at student desks. Echos of JSA's speech? 

Wife thinks he went too far. 

(28 ish) How the 5 gained power. And their eventual plot to build a concentration camp?!

Y was playing the politics game with G. Y thinks risk is fun. but G is too earnest and brought in the domestic.  have you thought about Elijah?  their real selves in the judges’ chambers

Episode 7, 30 minutes in and G has joined Y in his plotting for the first time! 

Fuck he's sexy 

That was the plot? Fake like he received an envelope from them? Ok, he Sets them all against each other. They're not that bright, but that's ok it would needlessly complicate the plot if they were. 

Y loves the risk. Adrenaline junkie. He's so happy now, he's playing games against his enemies and winning and he comes home to his crush working alongside him on his lifelong project. (I'm sure he will crash soon, but his life is great now!)

Presidential basement. 

Journey to the prison:

G has been repressing his desire for revenge. 

I would have taken a different message from that than Kang is trying to give. 

Is this the moment of corruption? Here in the prison yard?

I feel like we're finally seeing Seon Ah’s true face as she murders Seo. Anger and grief 

White was a bold choice for a murder. Contrasting Y in his all black. 

Huh, this ‘coronation’ framed like a Christian wedding 

eps 1&2  ep3  ep4  ep5  ep6  ep7  ep8  ep9   ep10  ep11  ep12  ep13  ep14  ep15  ep16

[xpao-bearx]

Part 1 HERE

NOTE: OMG I really wasn't expecting for the previous first part of Heavenly Sins to blow up as it did, but I just wanted to give a huuuge THANK YOU to all of you amazing folks!! 🥰🥰🥰 Your support truly means so fooken much to trashy ol' meh and y'all are the reason I am writing this story series in the first place :')

I do have my ideas, but I still don't know much yet of what to do or even how long (or short) this story will get. So, if you would continue to give me your mindblowing support, it would seriously mean the W O R L D.

I do, however, very much enjoy writing Negan in particular so far. He's one of my absolute fave characters ever and JEFFREY DEAN FUCKIN' MORGAN NEED I SAY MOAR?!? 🥵💕💕

But this second part will be focusing a bit more on our beloved sheriff Ricky boi! Of course, Daryl will also get some much deserved love and attention tho I think he will appear in the story a lil later on.

Also, if you ever feel compelled, you are more than welcome to take some inspo from this story and make your own imagines and such! I'd love to see 'em, so please tag me 😁

P.S. There won't always be long ass notes like this, only if I wanna say something or bring up whatever is important. Also, if you wanna be tagged on any new/future story parts, then just tell moi and I will dedicate the latest one to the people who wanted to be tagged!

DEDICATED TO: The wonderful @buttercandy16 💖

"Heavenly Sins"

Part 2

After your little spiel, you haven't spoken to Negan since then. But on the way home after church, you passed by his house and found him tinkering away on his motorcycle (which you previously learned he interestingly named Lucille) in the garage. Not being able to help yourself, you paused in your tracks and just curiously watched him for a while.

His leather jacket was off, revealing a plain white t-shirt. The shirt was quite tight, and you noted how it perfectly hugged the taut muscles of his chest. Your eyes then slowly trailed to his toned arms, adorned by tattoos you wished you had a better look at. He stopped briefly, placing his tools down before grabbing the hem of his shirt and wiping the sweat on his forehead.

You didn't even think twice as your eyes dropped, hyperfocused on his abs. He wasn't the buffest guy out there, but he was lean and fit and--to put it bluntly--hot. A part of you screamed bloody murder to get a grip on yourself, to just turn your stiff body around and proceed on home. But another part completely squashed down those protests without even a fight; as if your pathetic excuse of a resolve wasn't even meant in the first place.

"Take a goddamn picture, darlin'. It'll last longer."

Your head snapped up, meeting the tantalizing hazel stare of Negan. His lips were curled in a smug smirk, and nevermore in your entire life have you wanted to both slap and kiss someone so badly.

But you only clicked your tongue, shooting him a sharp glare before (at last!) turning and walking away as you hid your blush. In the distance, his amused chuckle begrudgingly sounded like the sweetest fucking music to your ears.

♡♡♡

You woke up at 7:05 a.m. like you typically did the next morning, Monday. It was the dawn of a new week, and while most people dreaded it you actually didn't mind it so much. You had your job to thank for that.

Sure, it wasn't always easy, but it was worth it in the end. You loved teaching and spending time with the children, and you were even more ecstatic since you knew Judith was going to be at the daycare.

As you finished eating breakfast and preparing for the day, you grabbed your bag then went out the door. You opted to walk again today, the weather far too beautiful to miss plus the daycare really wasn't that far away.

Eventually arriving at your destination, you approached the daycare building's doors with a little spring in your step. Once inside, a young woman with her blonde hair high in a ponytail smiled and waved.

"Hi, Y/N! Goodmorning!" Beth Greene greeted energetically.

"Morning, Beth." You chuckled, the girl's radiant smile infectious. You've known Beth for some time now, especially since the Greenes were one of the oldest families in Alexandria and they were well respected. But you got along best with Beth, you thought she was the friendliest and she was also the latest hire of the daycare.

Stashing your bag away in your personal locker, you fixed yourself up a bit before getting your nametag and sticking it on your top. Looking up at the wall clock, you read that it was 7:50 a.m. Perfect, just in time for the kids' drop-offs.

You waited outside with Beth and the rest of the daycare workers, until finally the parents started rolling in. It was the usual; some of the children were wailing, snot snivelling down their nose as their embarrassed parents tried to tug them away from clinging onto their legs. You could only offer a sympathetic smile as you tried to help, while other children were much more relaxed and didn't even spare a second glance at their parents as they were dropped off.

"Well, that's about all of them." Beth piped up.

"Wait, we're still waiting for Judith." You said, searching for the toddler. "Rick said she'd be here."

Beth checked her watch, her brows creasing a little in worry. "That's odd. Sheriff Grimes is never late when he's dropping Judith off."

Just as she said that, there was a honk that disrupted the peace. You and Beth both spotted a crying Judith being held by Lori, the woman appearing utterly exhausted before her eyes locked with yours and didn't waste another second dashing towards you.

"Please don't run when you're holding Judith. Also, no honking is allowed on the premises." It was hard for you to keep the malice out of your voice, but you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back since you miraculously managed to not make it sound the worst it could get.

Lori raised a brow at you, but only handed Judith over to you. Judith immediately quieted down when she saw it was you, you cooing gently at her as she giggled and snuggled up comfortably against your chest.

"Rick will be picking her up later." Was all Lori said, pressing a quick peck on Judith's curly little head before parting ways. As Lori rushed back to the car, you saw Shane in the driver's seat shamelessly attack her neck with fervent kisses and you couldn't restrain an eyeroll.

"Fucking bitch..." You grumbled.

"Uh-oh. Bad!" Judith giggled again, clapping her hands gleefully.

"Right, right. Bad. Don't copy me, okay?" You laughed, completely forgetting about your aggravation as you rubbed your nose with Judith's and went inside.

♡♡♡

The rest of the day rolled along splendidly. No one threw a tantrum and for the most part, all the kids properly shared the wide assortment of toys and even did their activities orderly and on time. So, you decided to indulge them with a small yet much sought after reward.

Painting.

When it comes down to children, painting can be utter chaos. But you figured since they were being so good, you'd allow it. At the daycare you worked in, painting was quite a rare occurrence and that only solidified how much the kids adored it.

Once the materials were set out, it was a dizzying flurry of excited hands grabbing anything it could latch on to. As the kids went about doing their creative business, you found Judith all alone sitting in the corner playing around with some blocks.

"Whatcha doin' there, Judi?" You asked, sweetly calling out her nickname. "You don't wanna paint?"

"I wanna, but not with papers." She replied, shaking her head.

"Oh? Then where do you wanna paint?"

"I wanna paint on faces, but no one wants me to!"

"If that's the case, then I'd be more than happy to let you paint my face." You smiled.

"Really?!" Judith's whole face lit up, jumping up and wrapping her tiny arms around you as tightly as she could. "Thank youuu!"

You chuckled, ruffling her hair and watching as she happily gathered some paint and brushes.

♡♡♡

It was finally the end of a long day, and your face felt a bit itchy from the paint Judith put on you. But it didn't matter; as long as the little girl was happy, it was the best damn day ever.

You were holding Judith's hand as you waited outside for Rick to pick her up, and once he came up with his car Judith beamed.

"Daddy!"

"Hello, sweetheart. Did you have a nice day?" His face looked tired, his greying beard making him appear slightly older than he really was, but his smile was genuine as he carried Judith in his strong arms.

"The bestest! Y/N lemme paint her face!"

"She did, huh? What did you pai--oh my god."

You bursted into laughter at his reaction, flashing him a toothy grin. "In the words of Judi: You're a pretty tiger! Grr!"

"Now that you mention it, I can see it." Rick joined in your laughter, nodding his head. "Looks like we've got a talented lil artist in our hands!"

"Daddy, I wanna paint your face next! You can be daddy tiger and Y/N can be mommy!" Judith proclaimed.

You and Rick flushed pink at the same exact time, but Rick was quick to clear his throat and change the topic. "A-Anyways, Y/N, how 'bout me and the kids give you a ride? Thank you for today, by the way."

"No problem, and sure! Thanks so much."

As you settled in the passenger's seat, two hands covered your eyes from behind. "Guess who~?"

"Hmm..." You hummed, making a show of thinking. "Are you an elf?"

"No!" The hands were removed, Carl popping his head out from the backseat to look at you as he laughed. "It's me!"

"Oh, sorry! You're just so short, I thought you were an elf." You teased good naturedly.

Carl huffed, sticking his tongue out at you. "Y'know, in a few years, I'll be way taller than you!"

Once Rick was done buckling Judith into her carseat, he took his place in the driver's seat and drove out of the premises. You just talked about anything that came to mind: work, the weather, Alexandria's local shops, etc. To anyone else, maybe it seemed like regular boring conversation. But speaking with Rick was truly one of the highlights of any of your days. He was extremely easy to talk to, and he never failed to cheer you up. And it was obvious Rick was the same. He was allowed to simply be himself around you; to loosen up, momentarily forget about the stress and sometimes even the woes that came along with being the town's upstanding sheriff.

As you were nearing your home, Carl decided to cut in.

"Y/N, can we stay at your house? It's been a while since we had a sleepover." Carl asked, his baby blue eyes identical to Rick's alight with hope.

It wouldn't be the first time Rick and the kids would be staying over. You were very close to the Grimes family, sometimes even almost considering them as your own. You didn't mind it. Since you lived alone, it can get pretty lonely. And having people around surely brightened up the house and made you keep your sanity.

"I don't mind, but you gotta ask your dad." You chuckled.

Carl turned to Rick, pouting and giving his best puppy dog eyes. Rick rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress an inkling of a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. But let me drop you and Judith off with Y/N first. I'll be back, I just need to get some extra clothes and essentials."

"YAY!" Carl cheered, Judith following suit as they both raised their arms and hollered.

"You're so whipped for them." You laughed, shaking your head as you looked at Rick.

"I ain't denying that." He sighed dramatically, grinning.

[laynemorgan]

I'm sure you've already provided it, but I'd be curious to hear your road to becoming a staffed writer. What first got you interested in it? Does it go back to school days?

Man it goes back far. I mean, I guess in some ways it doesn't. Since you asked more about what got me interested in where it goes back to, I'll give you the lest technical and more biographicl explanatin. My first goal was just to become a writer. I've been writing since I was a really little kid. I actually recently found journals from like the elementary and middle school days just filled with them. And it was never small scale, I'd always be planning out the whole fucking setting, how all the characters were connected, full universes. I made a fake fantasy. land in my backyard because my parents live on a lot of land. I called it Teleterania. I remember very little about it besides that that was the name hahah but I did do it!!! Everything I read only made me want to write. Everything I watched made me want to write.

Sometime around late middle school and early high school, I started watching more TV. I found soap operas and was OBSESSSED with their flare for drama. I found BTVS, Charmed, Smallville, Veronica Mars, OTH, etc. And all of those shows really got me actually looking at TV in a way I had never before. I got obsessed with their worlds and into their fandoms. I became the liek TV guy in my high school. There was even a group of girls I never got to really hang out with that would always call me over to their table to ask about what I knew about OTH stuff hahaha and 17 year old me thought that was awesome. Before my sister passed away, she and I took a road trip down to North Carolina to tour the One Tree Hill set. OTH was like the one thing that she and I agreed on. And it was so awesome. For me it was a first look at what the industry actually looked like, to see the sets and what went into it and all of that.

But I don't think my eyes really opened to actually WORKING in tv until college. I went to school for English Lit and Creative Writing in New Hampshire. My school had a great writing program and I was right at home there. i still credit my first writing professor who was only a grad student for really teaching me what I know about writing and editing and reading my own work for error and she passed me on to her favorite professor which was a hugely flattering moment for me. AND THEN -- I fell in love with PLL. And for me, that was really where shit started. I didn't realize it at the time and it wasn't even the show that did it it was what the show showed me. Through my tumblr at the time which had very little to do with fandom, I actually wound up running into Patrick Adams and Troian Bellisario. We all were always sharing each other's posts and at the time I was working for a journalist covering random TV out of a shitty free magazine in Boston doing work for peanuts. But I was going out to LA to meet up with a friend and we all decided to meet for lunch and they let me interview them for my magazine and stayed really rad people. They also helped boost my PLL photo recaps which I was doing at the time and those got the attention of the Director, Normal Buckley who asked me out to coffee and talked to me about my goals and what I was doing. He was the person who first really helped me understand that there's an approachability to the TV world that to me had always been this like magical hollywood bubble I didn't understand.

I went home THRILLED about LA, dropped out of college and set out to go to film school. From there, I hated film school because it was too technical adjacent, dropped out again, spent all the money I had on that move twice, and went home to boston broke and lost. I spent two years after that maybe more saving money, working in fandom, and waitressing while I went back to college online. That era wasn't super writing focused but it's where I found myself. I realized I was queer, I came out, I got into tumblr rpg, I met my fandom friends, I found tumblr fandom in a way I hadn't before. And then a couple years later I found tl100.

From there, the rest is kind of wonky. I had a big fan blog for the show and talked a lot about it on my twitter which lead me to many interactions with the writers who then invited me to dinner at comic con one year. I had a long talk with Shumway abut my goals and what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I wanted to be in TV somehow. I knew I wanted to be in writing somehow but I couldn't figure out how those two things aligned. I was doing a lot of journalism and critic stuff because that felt like the clsoest way to be both a fan and workin in the world I loved but it was really Kim and Shawna that opened my eyes to the ability to just .... be a TV writer. Film school had made me terrified of the wrtiing side but I think it was because film school was so much more about writing for film which I learned isn't my thing. But TV is a writers' medium, unlike film which is more fo a directors medium and suddenly I was like -- MIND BLOWN. It was everything I wanted in a career and married all of the things I loved. It was something that had previously felt like unattainable but they made it seem human and approachable.

They helped me get my first WPA job, I saved up 3 grand working and with the help of some friends and moved to LA to start that. And suddenly I was in a whirlwind of catching up on everything I felt like I had missed. I was reading scripts, learning what the process looked like, doing everything I coudl to figure out what being a TV writer looked like. After that job, I got another WPA job at Millar Gough on Into the Badlands and later Shannara.

THEN I got hired on Daybreak which I can fully credit with being a huge stepping stone for me and changing my life in a lot of ways. Aron was the best showrunner. He was educational and he taught us shit, he let us in the room, he let us write stuff, he let us pitch and try and fall on our faces and never judged us for it. My second season there he moved me up to writers assitant and patiently walked me through all the stuff I didn't know yet because he had faith in me and my voice and my ideas. He let me writ e afreelance episode that year and pitch it in the room and do all the things that real w riters get to do.

So after Daybreak season 2 got cancelled I was pretty ready to spend my next year or two just writing, finding an agent and moving forawrd. And then I got an email to go and work for Moira Walley Beckett. She was looking for an assistant with serious room experience to help develop something in a small room and stay on with her later. I took the job becuase she's MOIRA and I was stoked to learn from her and work for a woman for once. I ernded up very fortunate becuase a month later we were all surprised by the covid mess and I was fully employed that whole year while many people weren't which was a huge help. Moira was a STELLAR boss. I had thought I was ready and what she taught me was that ther's always so much more to learn. She walked me through the process of applying notes and taking notes and changing draft after draft of your story. SHe walked me through breaking a whole season of television. We had a great partnership for the year and I'm so grateful. And then that project didn't end up seeing hte light of day and we our separate ways as well.

Cut to a few months ago, I was still at home in Boston, post-covid, having been sick for most of january. My friend Rachel dared me to write a spec in a weekend for the Warner Bros fellowship deadline. So I did. It was a Legacies Spec. Given that we didn't have access to the WGA library because of the pandemic, Legacies was an easy and obvious choice. I had already seen it inside and out and didn't need as much access to learning a show from scratch. So I wrote what I loved, wrote a season 2 legacies spec that embraced my favorite things about legacies: the high school soap of one tree hill, Lizzie doing wild dialogue, buffy-esque monsters, and themes of grief and humanity.

AND THE REST you know.

Here we are. I'm still lost as fuck. I'm still running full speed through a world I don't always feel like I"m ready for. I'm still a perfectionist and an obsessive overworker. I still take notes I don't need to take and do work at 10pm and come in early and stare at the story boards. There's a whole journey in all of this about representation and coming to find myself and queer media and wanting to make more of it but that's one I don't feel like I can fully get into until I'm decades out of it and the world is truly made better. But I'm here. And it feels like the end of a journey and liek I'm standing at the edge of a brand new clif because I've only just started.

[ocw-archive]

Herald-Sun, August 03, 2006

Owen Wilson, the hard-working slacker

Owen Wilson's dad is out for vengeance, the actor tells CLAIRE SUTHERLAND. You seem to have acquired a reputation for acting the slacker/stoner. How did you corner that part of the market? It's not a calculated thing, like I'm this workaholic trying to pass myself off as a stoner/slacker. I don't think it's really accurate, but it doesn't bother me. I don't lose any sleep over it. I'd like to think I'm a pretty thoughtful person. Maybe that, and being from Texas and talking in a deliberate way, sometimes gets pushed through the media thing and comes out as stoner/slacker. It wouldn't be how my parents would describe me. Certainly, compared with (my brothers) Luke and Andrew, I wasn't the easy-come, easy-go kid. I was more of a worrier. I can still get anxious about things. I guess it doesn't come across that way.

Speaking of your brothers, you've all been pretty high achievers in the movie world. You were nominated for an Oscar for co-writing The Royal Tenenbaums. You also co-wrote Bottle Rocket, which starred Luke. Andrew has a writing/director career. Did your parents have an inkling you'd go on to great things? No. They definitely weren't saying, "Just you wait; something great's going to happen". They weren't saying that as I was getting kicked out of school and going to military school. They didn't know there was good news to follow. They must be relieved that good news did follow. Nobody gets a bigger charge than my dad when something good happens to us. Even (writer/director) Wes Anderson, when we were working on scripts or movie stuff together, used to like to call my dad when we had good news, just because my dad gets so worked up and enthusiastic about it. One of the funny things about calling my dad with good news was it went beyond just "That's great". Often it was, "That's great, and I'd love to know what that teacher who kicked you out is thinking". My dad even had this thing he called the Stake in the Heart Club -- that was for people for whom good news about us was like a stake in the heart. That's not the most spiritual way to greet good fortune, but that's the way my dad is. Did he ever actually make the phone call to the teacher who wronged you? No, but the society columnists for the Dallas papers will sometimes have little bits on me and my brothers, and it's obviously stuff that my dad gives them. Maybe he's addressing those people with that. What's your reaction to Steely Dan's claim that you stole the idea for You, Me and Dupree from their song Cousin Dupree? I stole the movie from their song, even though I'm not the writer of the movie? I think they're just kidding around, because I heard they're Bottle Rocket fans. I was supposed to go to a concert to apologise on stage, but I'm here in Australia so I wasn't able to go. But I should send them something funny back. I assume they're just kind of goofing around. Or mentally unhinged. Or mentally unhinged. What are you doing next? I think I'm working on a movie about these kids who are getting bullied and they hire me as a bodyguard. Then there's a movie I'm going to do with Wes in India, that Wes wrote and is directing. It's about three brothers -- with me, Jason Schwartzman and Adrian Brody. But it's not a Bollywood movie? No. It's going to be wild. Wes assures me it's great, and I kind of believe him because I think of myself as more likely to go some place where I'd be roughing it before Wes. He likes staying in five-star hotels, and nice things. Have you turned down great roles and later regretted it? Sometimes I hear actors say, "I was offered that part but didn't do it". But I've never been offered a part in a film that went on to become a great movie. I love The Insider. I thought that character was so great and Russell Crowe did such a good job, but I didn't necessarily say, "Oh, I should have been that guy". I don't want to say I'm limited as an actor, but I don't see myself as an actor who can dramatically change his looks the way Dustin Hoffman does in Rainman. I think I'm OK at making things sound hopefully believable and natural. How do you do that, given your plan was to be a writer and you have no formal training? I don't want to act like it's some mystical gift that I've been given, but I'm not a big extrovert. I wasn't always performing at school. I don't like public speaking. A couple of times I've been asked to speak at some event that sounds really great and I'll agree to it, then as it starts to sink in. I'll inevitably cancel because I'm not that comfortable with that stuff. But for some reason, with the acting I'm pretty relaxed. You came to Australia in a private plane. Is that just part of a normal day for you? No. You feel like you're a member of Led Zeppelin when you get on a private plane. You grew up in Texas. Are you a hometown hero there? Not really. I feel like the papers in Dallas are kind of tough

on me. How do you deal with criticism? You have to have a little bit of a thick skin if someone writes something not so great about you, which is probably why it's best not to pay that much attention to it. But Bottle Rocket, that was a very wounding experience when we didn't get into the Sundance Film Festival and had all those problems with test screenings. That was really hard, like a personal rejection. But now I'm not as invested. Even though it's still not going to feel that great, I'm not devastated. You have more perspective. You're going to have a career and you're going to do things. But that one was make or break; if that didn't do well, you weren't really going to get a chance to do other stuff. Now you can feel a bit more secure and think, well, on to the next thing.

[lezliefaithwade]

A Breath of Fresh Air

The summer after my first year of theatre school, I was sleeping on the living room floor of my cousin's apartment in Toronto, trying to figure out what to do with my life. My cousin had been an actor before he became a quadriplegic in a car accident, and as I unadvisedly bemoaned my unemployment status, he said something like, "Seriously? You're complaining about your life? Don't make me burst a colostomy bag." He was right, of course. I wasn't in a wheelchair, though I did have a stepmother who had rendered me homeless because of her dislike for me. She was always saying things like, "Your hair can't be as ugly as that hat you're wearing." Or simply refusing to invite me to things like Christmas dinner. I always admired people with families. My boyfriend at the time was one of five kids who were always doing things together. Their house was always full of noise and activities. Even as a shiksa, I felt more at home there than with my stepbrothers and sisters, who never lost an opportunity to point out that I was weird. I wanted to stand up to them, but not wanting to cause my father any grief, I held my tongue and sought refuge elsewhere. It occurred to me that perhaps I was using the theatre as an opportunity to say things through characters that I couldn't find the courage to express myself.

The Toronto Star was still open on the kitchen table, and I rummage through the Want Ads, that dirty part of the newspaper near the back where complete strangers will soon become complete assholes in your life by forcing you to work menial jobs in humiliating uniforms for minimum wage.

"Find anything?" my cousin called from the bedroom, where two attendants helped wash and dress him.

"Social services are advertising for camp councilors to work with emotionally challenged kids."

"Oh yeah," He said. "That might suit you."

I'm not sure I knew what he meant but, I was beginning to think I'd outgrown my welcome. My cousin probably would have encouraged me to join the circus if the option had been available. Knowing my living room days were numbered, I thought it best to make an effort and apply.

I had no experience teaching drama—no experience working with kids and no experience going to or working at a camp. Despite all that, I was hired. It's worth noting that it's probably not a good sign if you get a job with no qualifications whatsoever.

My official position was Drama Councillor, and I prided myself that with only a year and half of theatre training behind me, I was well equipped to help others benefit from the wealth of my experience. I imagined myself, Maria Von Trapp, teaching children how to sing while they looked at me adoringly. Somehow, I conveniently blocked out the rebellious early stages she experienced and skipped straight to the good parts. Also, I might add, forgetting about the Nazis and having to climb over a mountain. Still, visions of me biking around camp with a group of happy campers behind me filled me with a sense of self-satisfaction.

As I packed my knapsack with deet and a secret stash of Twinkies, I thought of how only three weeks earlier I'd been in New York walking through Central Park and savoring Cappuccinos at outdoor cafés on Columbus. Now, here I was, ready for something different. The wilderness, I imagined, would be a welcome change—fresh air and loons instead of smog and sirens. I thought smugly about my classmates sweating behind visors at take-out windows shoveling fries into cardboard cups or wrapping sandwiches in tinfoil. Thumbs up to adventure, I told myself. The fact that I'd never once in my life enjoyed the great outdoors didn't factor into my mind. All of this changed with each accumulated minute of the 391 Kilometer drive north.

It was late afternoon when I arrived at the compound. Overcast, sullen, it was a place so secluded you'd need flares to find it. It had that distinct aura of someplace time forgot. A place left behind and neglected. In the brochure, the sun was shining, flowers filled the meadow, and you could practically hear laughter floating off the page. What I was looking at bore more of a resemblance to a situation in a Stephen King novel where camp councilors discover a pack of hungry teenage zombies have lured them to a seemingly idyllic retreat. Situated right in the heart of black fly country, I spent most of my days swatting insects so big they seem Jurassic.

During our orientation, child care workers warned us that children with mental health needs tend to run away - a lot and to keep strict attendance records and all eyes on them at all times. "These kids are resourceful and clever," they cautioned. I couldn't imagine being so determined you'd risk your life by escaping through the woods that surrounded us, but then again, I'd never been around children who weren't allowed cutlery before either

I shared my cabin with three other women with who I had absolutely nothing in common. Delia, a humorless 27-year-old cooking instructor who answered every question with a monosyllabic grunt, Jennifer, a 26-year old tennis instructor with massive blond ringlets who talked so quickly she sounded like a record on high speed, and an older aboriginal woman named Sunny who made us all dream catchers and offered advice about how to heal ourselves on days when we'd feel spent. "Remember, these kids need us," she said while purifying our cabin with sage. As I glanced around my assigned bunk, taking in the spider webs and loose floorboards, I had that sinking feeling that comes when you know you've made a terrible mistake. Before long, I was eating copious amounts of peanut butter on stale bagels amid a never-ending supply of starch. I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to feed children with challenges like anxiety, depression, hyperactivity, and eating disorders copious amounts of sugar and carbs. It certainly did nothing to help them or me.

On the first day of class, I sat everyone in a circle. "Welcome to drama class," I said with a smile. "Let's begin by sharing with everyone a little bit about ourselves. Anything at all you'd like us to know?" A hand went up.

"I'm Tracy, and I hate my stupid ass brother. He can go straight to hell."

"Okay," I said, "That's a start. Who's next?"

Another hand. "I'm Jonathan, and this place sucks so much I wish it would burn to the ground!"

"Fair enough. Anyone else?"

"I'm Jo. I'm schizophrenic. So sometimes I'm Rachel and Julia. You'll know the difference because Rachel has a British dialect, and Julia talks slang."

"O-kay." I glanced at the social workers who sat on the edge of the room and looked at me with an expression that basically said, "We can't wait to see what you do next."

"Let's write a play," I suggested. "Write anything you want. Once you're happy with the work, I'll shape it into a cohesive piece that we'll rehearse and then present at the end of the season talent showcase."

The kids liked this idea. The showcase was a big deal. It was an opportunity for them to blow off some steam and express themselves to friends and family in a creative way. My only stipulation was not to use profanity. As the weeks passed, I was impressed with how well they all threw themselves into this project—all except Eric, the oldest boy in my 12 to 15-year-olds. Eric often wandered around the rehearsal space, unfocused and sullen.

"Any ideas for your piece?" I ask, checking in to see if I could help.

"I'm thinking," he'd say and then pace.

With three weeks left in the summer, I took my well-deserved week off to decompress. My boyfriend came up from Toronto and drove me to his parent's house at Post and Bayview, where caterers were preparing the tennis courts for an outdoor party. I walked into his mother's living room, and she gasped. "What happened to you?"

I didn't blame her. I hadn't spent much time looking at a mirror the past four weeks, but one glance at the large one in their bathroom told the full story. My hair was ratty; I had scabs on my knees, bruises on my arms and legs, and I was sunburnt. I was wearing a vintage skirt and blouse that was probably more Value Village than vintage and a pair of worn, scuffed purple moccasins; in essence, I was wearing slippers on my feet.

"Please take her to the mall and at least buy her a pair of shoes," his mother said, handing me her credit card and then rushing off to make sure the stuffed alligator would float in the pool. That week I ate my way through rugelach, hamantaschen, brisket, and bagels while his family watched me with awe and disgust.

Back at camp, the smell of burning insect repellent greeted me along with the news that the sailing and tennis instructors were sacked for disorderly conduct. Never mind, I had renewed energy and a sense of purpose. There were costumes and props to make. Sound and lighting effects to create. And we needed to rehearse. It was only a tiny stage somewhere on a remote camp in Northern Ontario, but the excitement was palpable. I was excited. This would be the best talent show ever, and my kids were going to blow the socks off everyone there!!!

"Eric," I said, "How's your piece coming along?"

"I finished it," he mentioned casually

"That's great. Can I see it?"

"I want to surprise you. You're going to love it, though. I promise."

I patted myself on the back. Eric had a breakthrough. All my encouragement and patience had paid off. Perhaps I'd helped him have a developmental breakthrough.

"Can you tell me what it's about?" I asked.

"The Beatles."

"Great. Okay," and left it at that.

Talent Night arrived along with parents and family friends. The lights dimmed, the kids performed, and the audience enthusiastically applauded as each "Mighty Mite" or "Spirit of Paradise" breezed across the stage, acting out skits about fairies and monsters and assorted escapades. Finally, it was Eric's turn. Out he came, looking serious and theatrical. He cleared his throat and addressed the audience.

"This is called, The Beatles Last Recording Session. By, Me."

Three of his closest camp friends filed out and took a space on the stage. The audience was silent.

There was a dramatic pause, then the piece began.

"Fuck you, Ringo,"

"Fuck you, Paul."

"Fuck you, George."

"Well fuck you, John."

Then they bowed and left the stage.

Personally, I thought it was kind of brilliant. Needless to say, I wasn't showered with accolades about my teaching methods or the effect I had on kids. I left there having no catharsis about mental health except that giving people the opportunity to express themselves without censor is probably a lot healthier than insisting they stay quiet. I admired the honesty displayed in the kid's work. If only, I thought to myself, I could be half as brave. Wasn't that what I was spending time and money learning how to do?

A week after being home, I found myself packing, once more, for school in New York. Our term letters had arrived with instructions on where to buy character shoes, leotards, copies of The Children's Hour, and Death of a Salesman. The camp already felt like it was 391 kilometers away - soon to be 659. My father drove me to the train station with my stepmother beside him; she was there, no doubt, to ensure I boarded.

"You going to be okay?" my father asked, giving me a hug and slipping a $50 bill into my pocket.

"She'll be fine." Elsie chimed in. "You don't have to worry about her. Let's go."

But I wanted my father to worry about me. Not all the time and to the exclusion of all else, but certainly the appropriate fatherly amount.

As I settled myself on the train, I watched my stepmother pull from father from the platform to the car and thought of Eric's brilliant play. Under my breath, I whispered the immortal words of the Beatles, "Fuck you."

#stepmother #mental health #children #young people #summer camp

[natsspammityspamspamham]

You've been visited by the random OC question fairy! :D ~☆

Write a paragraph of your character venting. What do they talk about? What's heavy on their mind? What do they complain about?

I feel blessed! Thank you for asking me about my OCs!

Generally, my OCs aren’t that prone to venting. They bottle stuff in a lot when it’s important and hits personally, so I did have to think about this quite a bit.

Seraphina - She doesn’t really vent. She misses her family a lot, especially her brother. I think that’s always heavy on her mind even if she doesn’t mention it to others. She complains about how disorganized and unfocused Ayden is and how he keeps getting into mischief. [Context: She lost her family in a supposed “murder covered up with a house fire”. She doesn’t talk about it unless approached and asked about it. She lost her mom, dad, and brother... supposedly.]

Ayden - He doesn’t like school. He’s bad at it. He doesn’t like sticklers or people who are strict with their teachings. [Context: He grew up in a poorer neighbourhood. He’s not the smartest but also doesn’t apply himself. He has trouble focusing and reading.]

Celio - He really doesn’t complain about anything but does get fed up when people doubt his abilities because of his disability (he’s blind). [Context: He was born blind and abandoned as a baby as a result. He grew up being bullied but never really told anyone and decided to improve himself to an exponential extent instead.]

Hikari - She doesn’t complain much, but she deals with a lot of annoying people due to being hired in the private tutoring sector later on. [Context: Grew up poor after being raised by her sister due to her parents dying in a car accident when she was young.]

Jayden - People asking her to touch her hair and take off her sunglasses. She hates it. [Context: All the students have unnatural hair colours by normal standards... blame my on-going anime phase for that. She has curly hair and appears to be of African-descent if Africa even exists in that world. I don’t know. I don’t know what her sunglasses are supposed to cover either.]

Eve - School, not getting what they want sometimes (in a jest kind of way), but they really don’t talk all that much. [Context: They’re a mooch. A silent one. School is hard for them because they need to actually consciously show up.]

Koa - Everything. Anything. Cries a lot. Just a mess of a person. [Context: He blames himself for a lot of things due to his past. He blames himself for his sister’s paralysis. She had an abusive boyfriend who took out his anger on him. His sister shielded him by hugging him, but she got stabbed in the back which severed her spinal cord from the waste down.]

Matthias - He would rather explode. Secretly, he is burdened by his upbringing and insecurities about his own masculinity, but he is the best at hiding that anything is wrong. [Context: He lost a younger brother who was the apple of his mom’s eye. He tries his best to be happy and the emulate who he thinks his brother would’ve been because of that. He doesn’t want to lose that childhood innocence because he isn’t ready to move on with his life knowing that his brother can’t grow up with him. His mom is also very negligent.]

Kiyoshi (teacher) - He whines a lot. He doesn’t like his strict parents, he doesn’t like having to work, he doesn’t want to do what his parents did, he rebels a lot, he has no idea what he’s doing, he’s tired of being compared to his cousin, he has terrible habits, and he’s a mess in every sense of the word. [Context: He’s the only child of former government assassin/spies. He doesn’t want to follow in their line of work because he saw them working growing up and thought it would be a pain in the butt. He was forced to get a job. He also dyed his hair orange.]

Edward (teacher) - He’s a mess, he has bad habits, he doesn’t take his job seriously and doesn’t want to, but he hides everything else. Superficially, he sounds very similar to his counterpart, Kiyoshi. But he’s definitely not what he seems. [Context: It’s undecided, but he has a very big connection to a major antagonist later on.]

I should draw better concept designs of my OCs later on. I’ve only covered about four.

[jesse-eisenberg-interview]

Zombieland's Jesse Eisenberg: 'I'm So Shocked Every Time I Get Into a Movie'

By: Seth Abramovitch|| September 30, 2009

JESSE EISENBERG: [He examines my T-shirt intently.] Sorry I have a final due today. I study contemporary architecture, so I've been looking at houses exactly from this weird perspective all day long.

MOVIELINE: It's the cover of a David Byrne album.

Oh, I see. OK.

Where are you studying architecture?

I go to the New School. I'm an anthropology major, but this class is contemporary architecture. 1920s on.

So you manage to keep up with your studies and pursue your acting career?

Yes. I made this zombie movie in the spring of this year so I couldn't go to school, but then I was enrolled for summer session because I wasn't hired to do any acting.

Hopefully no one snapped you napping in a class, like James Franco at Columbia.

Columbia is a much more difficult school. Two of my classes are online, so I could fall asleep without any consequence.

So what's your mood as we approach Zombieland's opening day?

My obsessive-compulsive disorder is out of control right now.

How does that manifest itself?

Well, I touch the tips of my fingers in a weird way; I don't step on cracks; if I'm going onto a new surface -- be it carpet to concrete, or concrete to wood, or wood to concrete, any new surface -- I have to make sure all parts of my feet touch equally the ground before I touch that new thing. So I'll often hesitate before walking into a new room. You know what I mean?

That's just a manifestation of anxiety?

Yeah.

It's not partially superstition, is it?

No, no. I don't think anything's going to happen.

Has that ever been a problem for you on set?

Um...It's...Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I'll put my hand down to touch something during a scene. It's distracting. It's terrible, just terrible.

Did a director ever point it out to you?

Um...no. I just play anxious people, so it becomes OK.

They think it's brilliant flourishes.

Exactly!

I think that has served you well as an actor. Take The Squid and the Whale, which is my favorite film of yours. Not many movies explore that very specific kind of anxiety divorce manifests on kids -- certainly not as well as that one did.

Oh, well I didn't write that. The writer is really, really brilliant. It was very autobiographical.

Zombieland seems quite a departure from the kinds of indie coming-of-age films you've done until now.

It's a bigger movie. It's a character-driven, verbal, funny, specific movie with well-rounded characters. I don't think it necessarily compromises any of those elements that you liked about my previous movies.

So you haven't "gone zombie" on us.

[Laughs] Um, no. It's a really funny movie. There are only four characters in the movie, and each character is not only played by an amazing actor -- there's two Academy Award nominees out of the four of us...not me -- but the characters are funny, well-rounded and interesting people.

How does your character serve the group?

I play Columbus. All our characters are named from the city that we're from, because Woody's character, Tallahassee, decides that if any of us know each other's names, it would be harder for us to kill one another if we've been bitten by a zombie. So to create some emotional distance, we name each other with what city we're from. My character is obsessed with survival. I have a list of 47 rules of how to survive in this post-apocalyptic zombie world -- Zombieland. Woody's character loves the fight, while I run away from the fight. So the two of us team up and kind of influence each other a little bit. I kind of make him a little more cautious and he teaches me to be a little more thrilled with killing zombies.

Did you ever foresee a moment in your career when you'd be shoulder-to-shoulder with Woody Harrelson fighting zombies?

No. I never thought I'd be in a movie to begin with. Every time they cast me -- and I'm not just saying this out of false modesty or humbleness -- like, I'm so shocked every time I get into a movie. And then after the movie is done I think I've totally failed and ruined this interesting movie. The movie comes out and I'm just embarrassed about myself in it.

Can you watch yourself in the films you've done? How do you react to yourself?

I hate watching me. I hate watching me. It just makes me feel awful. I think, I look stupid from that angle. I wish I didn't let them put that shirt on me.

Even after the initial shock wears off, can't you relax and think, "Wow. I really captured something there?"

No. I think I should have done it better or somebody else should have done it. Yeah, you never feel good. And then the times I feel really good after a scene, then I watch it and I'm like, uh, that was boring. From my acting training, you learn to just remain truthful, under what they call "imaginary circumstances." And so the time you feel most truthful is often boring. So often the times you really feel good with a scene don't coincide with the kinds of things one might like as a viewer, you know?

Did you start taking formal acting training after you starred in Rodger Dodger?

No. I was going to Performing Arts School on 48th St. in midtown Manhattan. We had formal acting training there. And I got into that movie because they got me to do a reading of it. The kids in my class were in Raising Victor Vargas, so they were casting for that movie out of our school. So I was studying back then.

It seems like you have trouble, for lack of a better way of putting this, becoming at peace with your craft.

Yeah, that's why I'm in therapy now. I talk about it every week. How to "make peace with the craft." That seems so nebulous. It's like, people who don't study it can get into movies and plays, and people who do study it quite often can't. Friends of mine went to Juilliard and can't get an off-Broadway play, let alone to get a lead role in a movie, and I haven't studied at Juilliard. I mean, it's a very kind of disconcerting profession. If you went to Harvard Medical School, chances are you'll be a doctor at some place. There's a career trajectory. Acting, there's nothing. It's constantly trying to procure jobs -- it's very disconcerting.

Is there a part of you that feels, well, hey, maybe I'm just a natural?

No. Because all "natural" is is basically nothing to fall back on. What is "natural?" It's a lack of any basis for anything. It's frightening. It's really frightening. I always feel like I'm five minutes away from getting kicked out of the hotel room that Sony paid for and having them clear out the minibar because I'm not allowed to take anything else.

Do you think your neuroses will get worse as you get older?

I'm on a strong regimen of pills that will hopefully make it better.

So am I.

How has it been for you?

Pretty good. I mean, sometimes you're just born with this shit and you just gotta make the best of it, you know?

It's funny you should say that, because I've always balked when people make a comment about Jewish neuroses. And yet...and yet.

Yeah. I think there's something there.