#i do like the censorship on the vending machine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonebirds · 1 year

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This got long but I'm fucking pissed. Content warnings for abuse mentions, trafficking mentions, discourse about discourse to prevent future discourse, "proshipper" nonsense, grooming, etc.

This is gonna be the one time I open my mouth about this because haha, hey, years of internalized fear and shame. I'm trying to lay down a boundary and that comes with so much anticipated backlash.

I do, for the record, have a background in Yelling about the crossroads of media/culture/literature/academia/games studies/trauma/capitalism. Which is a wide range and we can thank my comp exams in the PhD for that.

Since this is tumblr I also gotta just do the fuckin' disclaimer before anyone else feels like doing the "if you don't publicly condemn xyz then I'm gonna make your day worse" thing:

I don't participate in fandom and I don't ship things. I'm not about to defend specific instances or pairings because everything exists in subjective contexts, and texts especially so. But also, I have graduate degrees in English and text analysis and lived experience with CSA and trafficking that went on for a long fucking time. And I am very, very tired of being called the worst things you can call a trauma survivor because I don't care about shipping.

I'm not anti-ship, or whatever. I am not down for imposing my own trauma, feelings about it, and opinions on others in order to censor their art. Call me a proshipper if you want -- ignoring the part where I don't write fanfic or participate in fandom -- because I agree with them. I condemn CSA/CSEM, abusers, predators, the entire evil side of humanity but people who write fic aren't that. Neither are people who read it, even the most problematic of the problematic.

People can write, as fiction, as fantasy, whatever they want. There are no real people being harmed. I can distinguish between those things and, again, am a survivor of some very intense abuse. You're welcome to disagree. I'm fine with that if you're fine with me. I don't believe in absolutes when it comes to topics this complicated (and it is). I spent years on the opposite side, actually, because just the MENTION of things like incest or age gaps triggered me. And then I would do the same and get mad at the people writing it.

This is not healthy and it is not healing on either side of the argument.

But also in treating everything like such a monolithic moral purity test, where you're either good or deserve to suffer -- a test that I fail, because there is no room for things like Complexity -- you just spent a lot of time telling me I'm as bad as the people who trafficked me. Because of fiction. Because of fake things happening to fake people, based on an idea in someone else's head, people's real harm and real trauma means we're as bad as their abusers. That is so heavily the implication in so much of this talk. If I don't disregard my degrees, my training, my own experiences, my own principles and take a stand against people shipping things on the internet, I must basically be a predator!

That is violent and fucked up.

I don't want you around here, so block me and get it over with.

I (like a lot of people with trauma histories) use fiction and writing to process and heal. I don't even post them. A lot of that writing, and being able to seek it out, was helpful. It was a connection to someone else out in the world who maybe understood a little bit of the pain and fear and confusion.

There's a difference between fiction and real abuse. And the "but predators use it to groom vulnerable children" angle barely holds water -- predators use anything. Mainstream TV shows. Vending machine snacks. Gumballs. Access to a remote control to change a channel. A lot of things are more accessible and friendly to kids than making them read. Advocating for censorship, especially in today's political hellhouse, is not actually helpful. It just feels really righteous.

Which doesn't mean there aren't those trying to leverage fic to "normalize" abuse and grooming, I absolutely believe they have and do, but that does not justify externalizing your pain and trauma onto others, or policing them, or trying to take control back by claiming an imaginary moral high ground and pinning other people to it. It also doesn't mean that censoring the internet of all things icky to you saves the world, the kids, anything. It just means they'll find easier avenues, of which there are already so many. It also means you're all just attacking people from a place of presumed hurt rather than compassion, curiosity, anything like that.

So.

Anyone whose stance on this entire thing boils down to "you agree with me or you're a secret pedo enabler," you need to leave.

I'm happy to talk about it if you want! I don't think people trying to draw those lines are right but I think they're well-intentioned, until they start calling me shit that triggers entire mental collapses. You know. In the name of saving the children. Which hasn't been a red flag for conservatism and oppression for hundreds of years or anything, either. How many kids do you think are protected by shutting down places they can actually go and talk about the darkest shit in their heads? How many of us just suffer unbearable pain and isolation because the culture around us is shame-based and if you think about things like that, you're Just Like Them?

This ain't about protecting kids, basically. This discourse never has been. It's about being righteous and never examining why that is. It's about lashing out and displacement. I think the concern for victims is real, like I said, but that concern can translate to actual, real help elsewhere. People are DOING the work to make the internet safer. This? Is not that work.

You are responsible for how you manage your trauma and pain, and that has to include not taking it out on others. Full stop. Even when you disagree. Even when everything in your brain is going DANGER ALARMS DANGER ALARMS DANGER ALARMS WE MUST STOP THIS because someone ships something you think is wrong or uncomfortable. It sucks, and it sucks we have to do that, and it sucks we have to learn how. None of us asked to. None of us wanted to end up here. It's not victim blaming to say you're accountable for your own recovery.

But while you are here, maybe consider that the name/shame/blame model hasn't been working either. For hundreds of fucking years. We know shame doesn't motivate people to care, or learn.

But especially when you're weaponizing shame against trauma survivors for recognizing their own experiences in literature, art, stories. We all struggle with toxic shame. Using it against people until they agree with you?

Holy shit just look in the mirror one day, I guess. But block me first.

#sorry but i really am done being called this shit #by people who don't know me or my history and shouldn't feel entitled to knowing it so i can #the things saving people are being done in places other than twitter and tumblr #pass some bullshit binary test in their brain #by people who know what they're doing #not oh my god can't overstate this #not by attacking traumatized people because you think you got this equation figured out #thousands of years of philosophy and art but yes you found the answer #and it's conveniently so simple and straightforward!#sorry I'm obviously triggered and going #...none of these are new opinions for the record #talking just to change my mind is not gonna happen #like please just go i can't deal and i hope yall find less toxic and actually actionable ways to help people at risk #the look on my therapist's face when i had to be like children are cyberbullying me for liking fucked up fiction #because no one off the internet thinks like this

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bruhlsbees · 3 years

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sweet disposition: 1/? || femaleprofessor!reader x modern!alex kerner

hi bestie hehe i’d like to request a little series for you, sub! a little jealous modern alex keener (of age) x professor! f reader (late 20’s) - shes an english romantic lit professor & her “love interest” is a film professor who is one of alex’s shared teacher. alex has a little crush on her, and knows the film teacher is after her. super fluffy, smut maybe??? u decide baby, im just so excited eeeeek!!!

summary: alex kerner is a senior film student and develops a crush for his friend, denis, english professor

pairing: modern!alex kerner and professor!reader

warnings: age gap (alex is 22 and reader is 32), wet dream, sweet sweet pathetic boy, nsfw, 18+, minors dni

word count: 4,387

a/n: thank you for the request @gotmadison ily sweet gal!! this will be a short fic series i write and will post probably throughout the coming weekend! :) please enjoy and if you have any requests or asks please send them in!!!

For Alex Kerner, a senior film student, nothing bored him more than the first day of a new unit. He knew what to expect - twenty plus slides about some dead, or borderline dead, director while connecting their life to the style of films they did and how it related to whatever political controversy was going down at the time. Alex knew that there was a reason for going into so much history to better understand the meaning of the films, but jesus did it have to drag for so long?

The auditorium that Alex’s class was held in was larger, although the class was rather small. There were maybe, at most, thirty students in his class, including him, which felt empty as the auditorium they were in was meant to hold almost double that. Alex didn’t mind though, of all the rows, he was the only one in the back, taking the middle seat - of course, the best view to see a film. He recognized a lot of the faces in his class, as it was a senior level class, but he didn’t bother to converse with many.

It wasn’t that he was shy, not overly at least, he just didn’t care to make friends. It was an afternoon class, he was just getting out of work to rush to his class, and far too exhausted to try and fake being friendly…hence him sitting in the back, all alone.

The ‘Authorship in Cinema’ course he was currently in was held twice a week - both two hours long. The first class of the week was held for lectures and the second class was held for the film screening. The university was just getting back from winter break, continuing into the last half of the semester. In Alex’s class they had finished their unit on Roman Polanski before the break and they came into the next covering Krzysztof Kieślowski. Alex was thrilled to say the least about not having to listen to his film professor rave on Polanski. Even after discussing Polanski’s case, his professor still seemed to idolize the man.

Alex was not fond of his film professor. He was a younger professor, maybe in his late thirties, early forties, and he seemed to praise the worst directors he could find. His name was Jaxon Thorne and was the staple image of a douche. He always wore faded jeans that were tight in the crotch, scuffed up sneakers that he always tried to pass as being cool, and a sweater with a scarf - even though they were inside. He truly didn’t get how girls liked the man. Alex wouldn’t lie though, some of his opinions were interesting, but the guy loved to hear himself talk, that much was obvious.

They weren’t even at the tenth slide yet when Alex felt himself beginning to doze off. Work had been busy today, fixing satellites and dealing with prissy wives and their drunk husbands. He was almost late getting to class with all the traffic that was on the highway. The last thing he wanted to do was attend class. It took everything in him not to put his head down and go to sleep right there. He had done it before, and that was a mistake he would never make again. Waking up to everyone staring and snickering while the teacher was hovering over you meant for a lasting effect.

But Alex just couldn’t take it, he was so bored with Kieślowski’s early work. The documentaries of everyday lives for city dwellers, workers, and soldiers could not keep his attention even if he wasn’t tired. He sunk down into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, before craning his head to the side on his shoulder. His blinking became slow, desperately trying to stay awake and pay attention, but his eyes grew heavy, and before he knew it, his mouth was gaped open, drool slipping out of the corner of his lips.

He didn’t know how long he had dozed off for, but when he woke up he heard the projector screen zip up and the lights click on. Jumping slightly, Alex sat back up, feeling the stickiness of his drool on his face. With a groan, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jean jacket before beginning to pack his things up into his bag.

“On Wednesday we will dive into his documentary, Workers, and discuss the censorship aspect of it. Come prepared to watch the screening and discuss afterwards. If anyone has any questions or comments, I’ll be staying after for a few minutes.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex pushed himself out of his chair, swinging his bag over his shoulder before rushing out the back door at the top of the auditorium. He couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough to avoid his teacher from going off on an ‘intellectual conversation’ on their new unit. Barf.

Alex was happy though to finally be out of class and to enjoy his hour and a half break before his next class. He knew he should have been finalizing what project he wanted to submit for critique in his senior portfolio, but he needed something to wake him up.

As he turned the hallway, going to leave the building, he stopped by the vending machine and pulled out a crinkled bill from his pocket, pushing it into the machine before pressing the buttons to get a bottle of Coke. To his luck, however, the machine stalled, the bottle retriever getting stuck in front of the row and producing an obnoxious ‘whirring’ noise.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Gripping the side of the vending machine, Alex shook the machine roughly, rocking the broken vending machine back and forth until setting it back, sending a punch to the front of it.

“Woah, woah! Jesus man what did that vending machine do to you?”

Turning his head, Alex’s glare softened at the sight of his friend, Denis, approaching him. Denis, with his books still in his hands, tucked them under his arm as he stood in front of the machine, watching as the machine stalled with Alex’s bottle of Coke.

“The stupid thing got stuck! Is it too much to ask for a bottle of co-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the machine began to work again, grabbing the bottle and dispensing it below. Staring blankly at the bottom, his lips pulled into a tight line, Alex could only feel the embarrassment settling in - and it didn’t help to hear Denis laugh at how ridiculous he reacted.

“Oh my god, dude, you seriously need to take it easy. Did work kill you that bad?” Denis asked, watching as Alex bent down to pull out the bottle, standing back up as he began unscrewing the cap, guzzling the pop down.

Nodding his head, Alex screwed the cap back on before tucking the bottle in his bag, hiccuping at the carbonation before sighing, “Yeah, and it doesn’t help that I gotta go to Professor Dick’s class right after.”

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Denis nodded, listening to Alex as he vented, “Yeah, Thorne’s a real piece of work. But hey! Only gotta deal with him for another semester after this. Who knows, maybe he will knock a student up and ditch down?”

The fantasy would have been nice to come true, but Alex knew that it would stay just that - a fantasy. Thorne was a questionable guy, with interesting ideas and made borderline inappropriate comments towards the female students in all his classes…but that was just it, he could charm anyone he wanted, and that’s how he stayed around.

“Yeah, maybe when dogs walk on two legs…” Alex mumbled, pressing his knuckles to his eyes and rubbing the sleep out of them, a yawn escaping his lips.

As he dropped his hands down to his side, he felt Denis nudge him in the arm, groaning at the contact as he was too tired to have any contact, “You got class at seven right?”

Nodding, Alex blinked, a tired smile on his face as he smacked his lips, “Yeah…seven to nine, best time of day to have a senior portfolio workshop.”

Denis laughed at the sarcastic comment, mentioning that it could’ve been worse and be at seven in the morning than at night. Alex, however, couldn’t see how anything could be worse than an evening class after a long day of work.

“Listen, I got my ‘Romanticism in Literature’ class in a few…why don’t you come with me? My teacher’s pretty cool and I’m sure she won’t mind if you sit in. I’m in the back anyways so she probably won’t even realize. She’s got pretty bad vision I’ve realized. I think she said that her glasses don’t got the right prescription or somethin. She’s always runnin late and claims she never has time to put her contacts in.”

The detailed explanation of the professor’s vision made Alex laugh, shaking his head as Denis looked at him confused, cheeks red, “What? It’s what she’s told us! She’s always coming in late. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came in late this time around. She’s got office hours before class, so she probably gets held up with a student.”

“Sounds like you’re in love with her, is that right, Denny Boy? Someone’s gotta crush on the teacher? Ain’t that every high school kid’s fantasy? Get the hots for the teacher?”

Scoffing, Denis rolled his eyes at Alex’s teasing and shoved him in the arm, “No man, come on now, it ain’t like that. Look if you don’t wanna come I don’t care, but I gotta go before I’m late.”

Holding his hands up in defense, Alex trailed behind Denis, going back in the direction he originally came from, “Hey, hey, I was only kidding, don’t gotta get defensive. I’ll take along, hopefully I won’t fall asleep in this class. Why you even taking this class anyways?”

Following Denis into the class, the auditorium setup similar to the one he just came out of, except smaller, Alex sat beside Denis in the back row, watching as the class filled up, only a few seats not filled.

“I guess I gotta earn some more credits outside my degree, this was the only one that wasn’t completely filled up yet and it worked with my schedule. It ain’t too bad, she gives us a lot of free time to work.”

Watching as Denis set his bag down beside him, opening his textbook to where they left off the other day, Alex watched Denis prep for the class, the teacher not in sight. Alex figured that the teacher must have been running late, like Denis said she always did, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d be before she even showed up.

Fifteen minutes after class was supposed to begin the front door ripped open, slamming shut seconds after while heels frantically clicked towards the desk in the front of class.

“Sorry I’m late! I got caught up with another professor. I hope you all enjoyed your winter breaks and are happy to be back. I know I’m thrilled to be back!”

The sweet voice caught Alex’s attention, his eyes pulling from his cell phone and to the front of the class where the professor had just walked in. He felt his mouth fall open slightly, catching it before Denis noticed his reaction.

He was expecting an old lady for Denis’ class, someone who was on the edge of death and smelled of cats. What he found, however, was someone the complete opposite. Younger, curvier, and the scent that filled the room when she entered was warm - like she just finished drinking a cup of coffee.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, bangs hanging low over her eyes, covering the tops of her crooked frames. She couldn’t have been all that older than him, maybe mid-thirties at max. He didn’t notice what she was wearing below, but the shirt she wore clung to her so well, the outline of her fuller chest displayed with her necklace dipping into her cleavage.

‘Good God, Alex, get a hold of yourself.’

Alex watched the professor, noticing her speaking although his lusted thoughts deafened his ears. He assumed she was asking how the break went and if anyone did anything fun because a few people raised their hands, a kind smile on her face as she listened to her students.

“That’s great to hear, Polly! You’ll have to show me the photos you took sometime. I have never been to that side of the country before,” Her head shifted towards the other side of the room, looking up at the higher rows. “Did anyone else have anything to share about their break?”

Denis’ professor sat patiently and listened to everyone who wanted to share, giving everyone the opportunity to discuss their breaks before she opened up her laptop to get started with class. Alex watched as she picked up the remote and pointed it to the projector box, the screen coming down beside her with her computer screen displayed.

Her home screen featured what he assumed to be her and some friends. He recognized a few of the people in the photo as they were also professors at the university - what made Alex turn his nose, however, was right beside her - in all his douchebag glory, Jaxon Thorne. Before he could make a cohesive thought, the photo went away and a slideshow on Mary Shelley appeared…and maybe for the better.

“Okay everyone! As mentioned in the email, we are gonna be diving into Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein for this part of the semester,” She began, her warm smile still ignited, chuckling lightly as some of the students up front became uneasy in their seats, excited for the novel, “I’m glad to hear we have some fans. Now, I promised that I wouldn’t give you any reading over break, but because of that we will be reading quite a bit over the next few weeks.”

The slide shifted to the reading guide and what chapters were due when. Alex watched as some students scribbled the due dates down while others pulled out their cell phones, snapping a photo before stuffing their phones away.

“For Wednesday I would like you all to have read the preface and letters one through four. Come prepared to discuss your analyses of the text and any questions you may have. Of course, I’ll have my office hours open tomorrow and Wednesday before class, but if there are any questions, you can send me an email and I’ll try to get back with you in a timely manner.”

The rest of class seemed to lull by, Alex’s gaze fixed on the professor that continued to go over what the last half of the semester would look like, answering the occasional question, before finally it was time to pack up and go. Frowning, Alex shifted in his seat, looking at Denis who was packing things up in his bag.

“It’s over?” Alex asked, eyebrows furrowed, a pathetic frown on his face.

Looking up from his bag, Denis smiled, nodding, “Yeah man, it is. Why? You fall in love with Mary Shelley?” Standing up, Denis pushed his seat under the table and shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, if it works for your schedule and you’re interested, maybe go up and ask if you can enroll. I don’t know if you’ll be able to with it being so late in the semester, but it’s worth a shot,” Glancing down at his watch, Denis sighed, “Look, I gotta run, but let me know how it goes, okay?” Patting Alex’s back, Denis rushed up the stairs and out the back door, fleeing the auditorium to get to his next class on time.

Meanwhile, Alex kept seated, watching as the professor talked with some students who approached her desk after class, laughing and admiring the editions of Frankenstein that students presented. Was this how professors could be with their students? Actually caring and involved? It seemed like Alex had poor luck with his own professors - either they were old as a bat and didn’t know how to work the computer, or they were a presumptuous dick.

When the students began to flock out, already discussing how they were looking forward to Wednesday’s class, Alex finally stood up, pulling his bag over his shoulder and making his way down the auditorium steps. She hadn’t noticed him as he walked, writing something down in her planner. As he stood now in front of her, he cleared his throat awkwardly, gaining her attention as she looked up, squinting before taking her glasses off.

“Hello,” he began shyly, adjusting the strap of his bag, “I’m Alex. My friend, Denis, he’s in your class.”

At the mention of Denis, she smiled and nodded, “Yes! Denis, nice boy he is,” She adjusted her position in her seat, leaning back slightly, “I-I’m sorry, are you in my class? I don’t believe I’ve ever see-”

“No! I mean, no, no I’m not in your class. I have a free hour before my next class and Denis invited me to sit in for this one,” He rushed, cheeks red as he realized how abruptly he had interrupted her, “I’m sorry, um, yeah I just came down because I really enjoyed your lecture today. I was curious if there was any way I could maybe enroll? I know it’s late in the semester, but I did enjoy today.”

The cheeky smile faded into a sadder, smaller smile. She chewed on her bottom lip before leaning forward again, crossing her arms over chest, accentuating her cleavage that Alex desperately tried not to stare at.

“Oh, I’m sorry Alex, but I don’t think I can convince the department to let you in this late in the semester. I love your enthusiasm with the course and would love to have you in my class, but I don’t think I can make that happen.” Her smile dropped to a frown when she saw the visible disappointment in Alex’s face before bending over to open her bag, pulling out a copy of Frankenstein, handing it to Alex.

Looking down at the copy, Alex opened the cover, reading what he assumed to be her name in the cover, before flipping through the pages, a weak smile on his face, trying his best to not look so pathetic in front of her.

“How about this? I probably shouldn’t, but if you want to sit in on the days you’re free, you’re more than welcome to. I’ll forward you the reading guide so you can keep up with us, but you won’t earn any credit in this class. Is that okay?”

His frown turned into a grin, looking up from the book, Alex nodded, his cheeks pink as his toothy crooked grin spread across his face, “Yeah, yes. Thank you,” Tugging down the front of his striped blue shirt, he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the book before back up at her, “Um, so when are your office hours? Just in case I have any questions?”

Letting out a faint ‘ah’, she opened her notebook and scribbled some notes down, tearing off the paper and handing it to Alex, “You’re more than welcome to shoot me an email though if you need help outside of my office hours. Or you can call my office number, sometimes I answer it.” She admitted, her own cheeks going pink at the confession.

Smiling, Alex looked down at the paper and made a mental note to remember all that she had given him.

My email,

My office number,

Office hours are M&W: 3-5:15 and T&R: 1-2

Class takes place on M&W from 5:30-6:30

The smile she left on the page made Alex’s stomach flutter. His thumb ran along the smiley face before he looked up, thanking her quietly for the note. She was sweet, almost too sweet for Alex to absorb, like he was in a sugar coma and begging for more.

“Of course, it was nice to meet you Alex. I’m looking forward to seeing you in class. I don’t mean to run off, but I’m to meet another professor here in a couple minutes and don’t need to be lectured on being late.”

When she stood up, Alex’s face went hot. The flowy flower blouse that showed more cleavage than he had seen on a professor before was tucked into a tight jean skirt, clinging to her hips in all the right places, a thick black belt holding it all together. If it weren’t for the fact that he was right in front of her, he probably would have started drooling.

Packing up her desk, she stuffed her things in her bag, throwing her sweater over her shoulder before throwing her bag around her, moving around the desk to stand beside it now, looking up at Alex. He noted how she was shorter, the heels helping her with height, and how good her legs looked in them. Clearing his throat, he shifted his bag around him to sit in front of his pants, attempting to hide any possible pop-up in his jeans.

“If you’re free tomorrow, stop by my office hours. I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’s too early for you. I know you college boys stay up far too late. I can only imagine what your mothers think.” She teased, shaking her head and she turned and began to head out of the room, hearing Alex keep tight on her trail.

Turning off the lights and letting him leave first, she shut the door behind her and stood beside Alex, motioning towards the English department office, “I’ll see you tomorrow, or Wednesday, my office is the last one on the right. I’ll be sure to leave my door open!”

Nodding, Alex smiled and waved goodbye as she waved back, rushing down the hall and weaving through the students to get into the office. Letting out a sigh, Alex leaned against the doorway, processing his first encounter with the professor, the boyish lust grin stuck on his face.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Panting hard, Alex gripped her hips tight, his fingers digging into her plush figure, grunting as he snapped his hips into her from behind, her pillowed ass meeting him with each thrust. The sweat that built up on him was beginning to fall down face, trailing down his neck and chest.

Tangling his right hand into her hair, his left still placed on her hips, Alex pulled her locks gently, smiling at the sound of her wanton moan, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“A-Alex! Oh god, Alex, I don’t think I’m going to last. F-Fuck!”

Feeling his own climax build, Alex let out a shaky breath as he bent down craning his neck to kiss her lips as he continued to rut inside of her, his thrusts becoming sloppy and quicker.

The sensation became too much too quickly, his legs shaking as he kneeled behind her befo-

Jolting awake, the obnoxious phone alarm woke Alex from his dream, resulting in a now completely frustrated mood. While still on his back, Alex reached behind him on the shelf that rested behind his bed frame, pulling his phone up and looking at the screen, squinting to gain his vision from waking up, the bright screen burning his eyes.

When he unlocked his phone and opened it, prompting him to his email, his frown lit up and turned into a smile, seeing her name in his inbox.

Good evening, Alex!

I’m sorry this is so late, I’m finally getting back to my apartment and wanted to send this your way before I forgot. Here is the reading guide for the rest of the semester and that information I shared with you earlier in case you lost it.

I look forward to seeing you in my office tomorrow or Wednesday. I hope you have a good night! :)

Best!

Alex’s mood quickly shifted after reading the email. While he was disappointed that the wet dream he was having with her ended so soon, he was more than pleased to see that he had an email from her. Clicking his phone off, Alex tossed his phone onto his bed, sitting up with his hand behind him to keep him up.

His room illuminated a red/orange hue from the lava lamp that sat on his dresser in the corner of his room. Turning his attention towards the window, he looked behind the blinds to see the city life outside his apartment lit up, the sound of music coming from the club down the road and laughs from those partying.

Letting out a yawn, Alex shook his head and rubbed his face, shifting his legs before stopping quickly, feeling the mess in his boxers. Looking down, Alex groaned seeing the stain in his boxers, pressing his hand to feel the wet spot before sighing, standing up. He pulled his boxers carefully off, tossing them into his laundry basket before making his way into the bathroom to clean up.

When he entered the small bathroom that was connected to his room, he hissed at the bright light as it came on, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair was tangled up, sticking out on the sides and his eyes were squinted, too tired to open them fully. Shaking his head, Alex climbed into the shower and started the water, the cold water hitting him both waking him up and cooling himself down.

He was absolutely and pathetically smitten over her. There was no doubt about it. Since leaving her class, the only thoughts that occupied his mind were of her. He had already planned out what he would wear tomorrow when he went to her office hours. It was pathetic, truly, with how quickly he was letting the woman ruin him. It was ridiculous to say, no doubt, because what would happen between them? Nothing. Not a single thing would come between the two other than a conversation about Frankenstein, maybe a personal question here and there.

Or so he thought.

#submissions #submission #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #daniel brühl imagine #daniel bruhl imagine #goodbye lenin #good bye lenin #alex kerner #alex kerner imagine #alex kerner smut #alex kerner x reader #au #college au #modern au #sweet disposition

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rockmiyabideusexmachina · 6 years

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2019 Megaman Valentine’s Day Contest Rules Post

It’s year number 12 of lovey dovey-buku contest art, and I’m back at it again. No secret categories, no surprise themes. These are just the two options you all voted on the most, this time around. Let’s do it!

Two categories, in which you are allowed to submit one entry for each category, if you would like. If you place in one category, you will be automatically disqualified from the other, for reasons of fairness, and to give other people a chance to win a prize.

CATEGORY 1: The Way To A Mega Man’s Heart Is Through His Stomach (Talent)

Content Requirements:

* A pinup category focusing on Mega Man characters who are cooking, baking, eating, feeding their partner, lounging on or around supersized pieces of food, or creatively wearing clothing that appears to be made out of aesthetically appealing food products. Basically, some sort of delectable food must be drawn along with at least one character.

* As this is the talent category, judging will be based primarily on the overall composition of your piece and your artistic skills. How well can you bring delicious, appetizing food to life, along with your delicious, appetizing character(s)?

Who says robots can’t enjoy food? Certainly not Fully Charged Guts Man. XD

A popular proverb has long held that one can often fall deeper in love due to their partner preparing their favorite food or sharing a romantic meal with one another. There have been many instances of Mega Man characters who would likely operate in a similar fashion, due to their love for their fave dishes. Netto has his insatiable craving for curry, while his papa Yuuichirou’s palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, as he holds his fork waiting for mama’s spaghetti. Megaman Volnutt wants his sweets so badly, he’d kick a vending machine to pieces to get them, or bug the lady at Jetlag Bakery for those yummy confectioneries. Kelvin Stelar went a more healthy route and loved carrots as much as his wife’s homemade carrot gratin. And don’t forget the delicious cake waiting for Ashe or Grey in the fridge of Hunter’s Camp 4.

So, your task for this category is to draw the Mega Man character(s) of your choice tempting their Valentine with some delicious food. Some sweets for their sweetie, if you will. But the character you draw can be pretty tempting themselves, to go along with their treats. Create a tastefully seductive combo meal that will leave our mouths watering for more!

Now remember, as much as some of you out there might have first thoughts to draw some melons, bananas and glazed honey buns, this category is not meant to get explicit. No frontal nudity is allowed. So please follow tumblr brand censorship guidelines™ when creating your art, or it will be flagged, hidden from the public and not included in the competition. ;p

CATEGORY 2: Princess Sigmia Returns (Humor)

Content Requirements:

* A Megaman character who takes the primary form of another, opposite gender Megaman character due to a magical crown/mystery tank/navigator’s headset/biometal/battle chip/etc. This character is looking for love this Valentine’s Day. How they attempt to obtain a date/partner is up to you.

* As this is the humor category, judging will be based primarily on how funny your piece is. Consideration will also be given to a lesser degree on your creativity in combining your characters into a hybrid, and your overall design for them. But the point of this category is to make us laugh!

Following 2018’s hottest videogame art trend, that of the genderbent transformation of Bowser and crew into Princess Peach-looking alternate forms of themselves, it’s time to continue that spin with more Mega Man characters.

Looking to clean up real nice in the ultimate battle body for a night of love and romance, Princess Sigmia is ready to hit the club/restaurant/park/etc., and this time she��s brought friends.

Your goal for this category is to create the funniest romantic scenario this hybrid character can get into on Valentine’s Day. What made them use this magical, transformative item? What are the reactions of other characters to this newly made up character, who resembles someone they thought they knew? Let your imagination run wild, and draw most hilarious creation you can come up with!

There are no restrictions on what characters you merge, and no, you don’t have to stick with my combination of Sigma and Alia. You can base your transformations off of heroes or villains, minor enemies or main characters. It just has to follow the similar format of gaining the appearance of a familiar character of the opposite gender, while still retaining some characteristics of the original character. So, whether you create Mistress Ashebert, Mega Man VolBonne, Rainbow Cieldevil, Prince Praika, or Crimson Akane, the combinations are all up to you!

PRIZES:

It’s the usual, ‘get-what-you want’ option, for the top 3 artists in each category. As always, if you prefer a cash prize through Paypal, and just need the money, that’s typically the easiest and quickest option to get your reward.

But like normal, I will be flexible and work with the winners to purchase Megaman-related prizes, if there’s something you’ve really had your eye on and would like ordered. Be it a Roll Caskett 4-inch Nel, Fully Charged figures, artbook re-releases, Mastermix issues, or some other trinket. If I can find it within your prize price range and order it to be shipped straight to you, I will do all I can to make it happen!

The winners for both the Talent and Humor categories will receive the following:

*1st Place: $100 USD or an item(s) up to that value.

*2nd Place: $50 USD or an item(s) up to that value.

*3rd Place: $25 USD or an item(s) up to that value.

PARTICIPATION PRIZE RAFFLE:

Since they have gone pretty well in the past, I once again will be offering participation prizes. Some might say a few of these are quite X-cellent prizes, in honor of X’s 25th anniversary this year. In order to be eligible for the participation prizes, all you need to do is enter a pic for either the Talent or Humor Category!

Like previous years, if there is a prize here you are NOT interested in, please note that when you send in your submission(s) to me. Otherwise, you will be automatically entered in the raffle for a chance at each of these items.

If you draw a pic for both the Humor and the Talent Categories, you can double your chances to win! (Odds of course, depending on how many others enter and also draw two pics.) You will be able to add your name into the drawing a second time for just 1 of these prizes.

Raffle Prize #1 – Rockman 8 Anime Cel (with Genga)

Name a more iconic Duo. I’ll wait. This cel of Duo is a tight headshot from the midgame cutscene. After waking up, Duo sees the vial of Evil Energy by Doctor Light’s computer, crushes it, and proceeds to say “HE STILL LIVES!” before screaming in this frame and blasting off through the ceiling of Light Labs.

This is almost quite certainly your last chance to win a Rockman 8 cel from me, so best of luck to all who want to take it home!

Thanks to a generous donation from @silentally, there are also 3 other pairs of raffle prizes (*pictures to be edited in and added soon):

Raffle Prize #2 – Set of Mega Man X Official Complete Works Artbook and a beaded Zero keychain

Raffle Prize #3 – Set of a framed 3D sprite art piece of X’s iconic Vile battle, as Zero comes to the rescue, and a handmade Zero plush

Raffle Prize #4 – Set of Tamashii Buddies Zero figure and a Zero emblem wristband

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES:

When you submit, I would prefer you to include the following information in this format, along with your entry:

• (Your name/preferred alias) – As much as I usually know who you are, there’s always someone new or somebody who has a different preference from what their email name says.

• (Category this entry is for) – You can either say 1 or 2, or Talent/Humor

• (Participation Prize Eligibility) – Just write “All” if you are interested in the chance to win anything. Write: “Exclude from # __” if you do not have interest in winning a particular participation prize.

In the event you are submitting your second entry, please specify which prize # you would like your bonus chance in the raffle to be put towards.

Only submit your own work, as usual. Any character, major or minor, from any series is allowed. Pairing characters from different series is totally allowed. Same-gender pairings are completely fine. OCs are allowed, as long as your art contains at least one canon Megaman character.

As always, participants are allowed to submit from all over the world. It’s easier for me to get prizes to US entrants, because international shipping is complicated and pricey, but I’ll do what I can for you guys who aren’t in the States.

Paypal is still the preferred method for cash prize payouts. Please have a valid account to receive your winnings.

Youngin's, get your parents permission before entering.

Entries do not need to be colored, but it is preferred. The more effort put into things as always, the better chance you have!

Entries can either be e-mailed to me at rock2125[at]hotmail[dot]com, or you can just PM/note me a link to your pic.

DO NOT post your pics in this journal, your dA galleries, Twitter, tumblr blogs, other sites, etc. until the contest is over. This is the fairest way for competitive reasons. I prefer to keep them all secret until the deadline has passed.

I'll edit a confirmed entry list in this thread when I receive them. So you won't be in the dark about whether or not I've received your entry.

DEADLINE:

The deadline for this contest will be Tuesday, February 12th, 2019 by 11:59PM CST. *EXTENDED!* New deadline is Wednesday, February 27th, 2019. This gives you a little more than 5 weeks to finish your entry!

MISCELLANEOUS INFO:

As usual, If you don't plan to enter, but would like to help me judge, please let me know through DM or mention so here. Never hurts to have extra opinions on all the entries.

Bug me with questions if you have any. Please join in, and good luck to everyone who enters!

CONFIRMED ENTRIES:

Cat. 1 (Talent) - @prar-draws, @larytello, @drewblossom, @bracedshark, subzeroiceskater, @irischroma, @papillonthepirate, SockMonkii

Cat. 2 (Humor) - @drewblossom (x2), @bracedshark, subzeroiceskater,

#Rockman #Megaman #Mega Man #Rock Miyabi's 2019 Megaman Valentine's Day Contest

51 notes · View notes

bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Into the Woods

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 6246

Summary: Simon is so done with his roommate's shit. Little does he know he's about to find out why Baz is being weird. Based on "Baz is a secret theatre nerd with glasses and a man bun” request.

Read on AO3

AN: I'm alive! And exhausted because work is a nightmare. Seriously, having a full time job sucks ass. But, WAYWARD SON!!!! I'M SO EXCITED!!!!! Excited and scared, but mostly excited. 2020 can't come soon enough holy shit. Anywho, hope you enjoy this little romp :D

——————————————-

Simon

“What the fuck happened to you?”

I glare at Penny as best as I can with my tired eyes. “What the fuck do you think?”

“He was pacing in your bathroom?”

I sink into the uncomfortable lecture hall bench with a sigh. “Yes, came back late then kept me up until midnight, muttering and humming to himself, again. What the fuck is he doing that requires so much talking and movement. And why does it have to be in the fucking bathroom?!”

Penny shrugs, something usually only I do. “I don’t know, Si.”

“I bet he’s summoning the Devil.”

“Simon, for the last time, he’s an arsehole, not an evil wizard.”

“You don’t have to live with him.”

Penelope sighs and keeps typing on her laptop. I assume my occasional lecture position of arms on desk and head pillowed on arms. One advantage of uni is that professors don’t give a single shit if you sleep through their classes. I know I’m probably wasting my education, but I need sleep. Because of fucking Baz.

“Good morning, Snow.” Ugh, I hate his smooth, perfect voice. I grunt in reply. “Still not a fan of speaking, hm?”

“Fuck off, Baz,” I grumble, “it’s your fault I’m like this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, completely calm as usual.

I growl, because I hate words enough when I’m awake. And I refuse to use them with him.

He doesn’t answer, the bastard, just walks off. I watch from just over my arm as he sits a few rows in front. He’s easy to spot, what with the tight green t-shirt and stupid man bun. Well, it’s not totally stupid on him. Somehow everything looks good on him. He could wear a garbage bag and still look great. Stupid good looking arsehole.

I doze on and off through the whole psych lecture. It’s not that interesting anyway. And when I wake up, Baz is right in my line of vision, and I keep looking at him. How he re-adjusts his hair every once in awhile. How he spins a pencil between his long fingers. How he lifts his glasses up and down as he looks at the screen then takes notes. Why does he have to be such a good upstanding student and make the rest of us look bad? It’s so bloody infuriating.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the lecture is over. I’m done classes, but Baz has another lecture. I can go back to my room and get a good rest.

“Hey, Si,” Penelope says as I’m gathering my things. “Still wanna study for that English exam together?”

Shit, I promised her we’d study yesterday. Guess my nap will have to wait. “Yeah sure, Pen. Not sure how much help I’ll be. I’m not exactly good at English.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll whip you into shape.” She grabs my arm, and I willingly go.

“Yeah, sure, that’s possible,” I chuckle. We head out the door, but I sneak a look behind me. Baz is talking to a group of people. Huh, that’s weird. Baz and I have been roommates for over a year, and I’ve only ever seen him hang with the same two guys, a freckled redhead and his cousin (I think.) Those two are both standing there now, but for some reason there are a bunch of other people standing around too. Who have big smiles and even bigger gestures. Does Baz have friends now? Huh, he has been out more often. Guess they don’t mind that he’s an annoyingly smart arsehole, or that he looks better than all of them.

“C’mon, Si!”

Penny tugs harder, and I rip my gaze away from Baz. I’ll think about him later.

———————————————-

The only good thing about the student centre is that the chairs are comfy. I’m pretty sure the university invested all their furniture budget into cushy armchairs. I’m certainly not complaining. Especially today, when I could sink into the comfy leather forever.

“And what were the main themes of Fahrenheit 451?” Penny asks.

��Uhhh...” I don’t open my eyes. They feel too heavy. “Books are better than people?”

“I would personally yes, but our prof would disagree. Try again.”

“Blargh.”

“Blargh?” she chuckles. “Simon, are you making up words again?”

“Yes,” I grunt, “because I’m frustrated and tired and probably going to fail all my exams.”

Penny sighs, long and heavy. “You’re not going to fail.”

“You say that because you’re trying to make me feel better because you love me,” I spit out before thinking. I’m tired and have less of a filter than usual.

She scoffs, but in an endearing way. I’m not sure how she does that. “Yes, I love you, Simon, which means I’d never lie to you. You. Are. Not. Going. To. Fail.”

I sigh, because I know she’s right. Penny actually, really believes in me. I’m glad to have her in my life. “Thanks, Pen.”

“You’re welcome. Now, just tell me one theme, please?”

I tilt my head back over the chair, closing my eyes as I try to remember what our monotone prof said. “Uh, censorship?”

“Yes! See? I told you you’d get it.”

“Thank you, Penny,” I murmur, then curl into the armchair. “Now I’m going to sleep for a thousand years.”

Penny sighs exasperatedly, but it’s still loving. “Very well. Want a mint aero bar from the vending machine?”

“Mm, yes please.” I rummage around for my wallet in my back pocket, and pull out (what I hope is) a five pound note. Penny snatches it. I hope she gives me the change.

As I’m sinking into the comfy chair, finally relaxing after hours of discomfort, something gets dropped on my head. I frown and pick up the chocolate bar. I hear Penny sit in the opposite chair.

“Hey,” she says through a mouthful of candy, “look at this.”

“Don’t wanna,” I grumble.

“Simon, open your bloody eyes.”

“Ugh, fine.” I blink my eyes open. Penny is holding a big poster. It’s covered in trees and says "Into the Woods" in fancy letters. Then it lists the school theatre and dates next week. Wait... “Pen, did you steal that off the student events board?!”

“Not important. But look! This is an awesome musical, and the drama club is doing it soon. Maybe we could go see it.”

I twist my lips together. “Hm, I don’t know...”

“C’mon, Si, we’ve both been stressed out. We need to do something fun.”

“And musical theatre performed by probably off key uni students is fun?”

She gives me a deadpan look. “Do we have enough money to do anything better?”

I let out a long sigh. “No, we don’t.”

“Exactly. Now, wanna go see some shitty musical theatre?”

I twist my lips again, fiddling with my chocolate wrapper. “I’ll think about it, Pen. I need to study more if I’m going to pass psych.”

Penelope nods in acknowledgement. “Okay, I get it. The show is next week so we’ve still got time. Now,” she flips her binder open again, “tell me the role of Clarisse in regards to Guy’s character development.”

“Ugh,” I groan, “gimme a minute.”

I put Into the Woods in the back of my mind, and once again try to remember what the fuck our professor said. It’s an annoyingly difficult task.

———————————————-

When I get back to my dorm, Baz isn’t there, again. Man, he’s really been out a lot lately. More than before.

Last year, when he wasn’t in class, he was always in the room. Either reading on his bed or working at his desk. I tried to avoid him as much as possible, because everytime I disturbed him he would glare or make some passive aggressive sarcastic comment. It became clear he didn’t like my presence. So I learned to stay out of his way, but I guess that hasn’t really been a problem lately. And...it’s weird. It’s weird him not being here.

I take a long shower, revelling in the fact that Baz won’t bang on the door and demand I not use all the hot water. After, I curl up in bed, Netflix blaring in my headphones. It’s what I need to wind down after studying. Eventually, I let myself drift off to the sounds of Brooklyn 99.

But I’m woken up again when the door swings open. I grunt but don’t open my eyes. I just listen as Baz softly shuts it, pads around the room, then enters the bathroom. Ugh, fucking hell. He’s pacing and muttering and humming again, and even though he’s quiet, it’s annoying as fuck. I turn up my volume but it’s no use. Just knowing he’s there keeps me up. His presence just overwhelms my brain all the time.

When his footsteps get louder, I know he’s back in the main room. I pull off my headphones and glare at his back.

“Can you not?” I growl.

Baz freezes, head snapping up and shoulders tensing. Guess he thought I was asleep. “Can you be more specific?”

“It’s fucking great that you’re out having fun with your friends, but your late night entrances and obsessive pacing is keeping me up. Some of us aren’t vampires and can’t stay up all night.”

“Sorry my schedule is inconvenient for you, Snow.” His voice is so neutral I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or not.

"Oh fuck off, you prick."

"Incredibly creative insults there."

Ugh, he's so quick tongued. I can't fight him usually, and certainly not when I'm so tired. I opt for grunting and rolling over. Baz quickly goes back into the bathroom to change. (Prudish prick won’t change in front of me.) God, I’m so exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. Maybe I do need a break. Something fun...

I grab my phone from where it’s sitting on the floor and send a quick text.

Simon: heyyyy y’know i think i’m down for the musical i do need a break

Penny’s reply is instantaneous. (She was probably browsing Tumblr late at night again.)

Penny: Awesome! I’ll get us tickets for the last show on Friday.

Simon: sweet :) gonna go to bed night pen

Penny: Night, Si.

I power down the phone and restart Netflix again. Baz is already in bed, his black hair fanned out against the white pillowcase. Yeah, I need a distraction. Anything to keep me from thinking about school and exhaustion. As well as the stupid, annoyingly pretty guy sleeping no more than three metres away from me.

———————————————-

“What took you so long?!”

I ran up to Penny panting, completely doubled over. Christ, my lungs are fucking burning. “Sorry...couldn’t find...phone...bus...was late...so so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Si, let’s just get in there. Curtain is in three minutes.”

She takes my sleeve and drags me inside. She’s stomping, so I know she’s really pissed. I move to hold her hand tightly, squeezing it. “I’m really sorry, Pen.”

Penny keeps stomping, but sighs and squeezes back. “I know. Let’s just get in there.”

I let out a small sigh, because I know we’re still okay.

We rush into the theatre, jittering at the ticket booth and snatching up programs as we run past the poor student volunteer. Penny quickly finds us two seats in a not that shitty place. Surprisingly, the theatre is quite packed. Huh. I wouldn’t expect this many people for a student production.

“We made it,” Penny sighs.

“Yeah,” I reply. “So much for stress free evening.”

She chuckles, almost sardonically. “Yeah, unfortunately agreed. Now shush, curtain’s coming up.”

The whole theatre gets dark, and orchestra music swells. I lean back in my chair. The curtain rises to reveal (what I think at least) is a minimal set with people on it. A few tree silhouettes in the back, a raised platform, a fake fireplace, fake counter, and a fake cow next to a stool. Everything is just so fake. Penny said I had to “suspend my disbelief”. It’s hard to pretend with such little there. This is why I like TV and movies.

All the people on stage are wearing sort of fairy tale clothes. They start singing about what they wish for. To go to a party, for a cow to have milk, and to have a baby. Christ, is this whole thing just about people wanting things? Musicals are fucking weird.

I sort of half zone out, picking up on bits and pieces of the show and dozing off. Baz has been coming back later and later all week and waking me up each time he opens the door. The theatre is dark, so it’s hard to stay awake. I fall asleep at the scene with Rapunzel and the witch, but start to stir again when Jack’s mom throws the magic beans on the ground (ha, idiot.) But since this play jumps around more than a rabbit on a sugar rush, suddenly the Baker’s Wife is walking around in the woods with the cow as Cinderella runs past. She’s running from the ball again and hides behind the Wife. A trumpet goes off as someone gallops ridiculously on stage-

Wait, is that...

“Baz!?”

Three people shush me, but I ignore them, because Baz fucking Pitch is on stage right now, hamming it up with everyone else. He’s wearing a silly outfit that reminds me of a Disney prince, with a white jacket and a red sashs and gloves. His hair is slicked back with gel, emphasizing his stark widow’s peak more than usual. He’s not wearing his glasses either. Huh. I’ve never seen him without them. He looks...good. Well, he looks good with them too, but this is just a different sort of good.

I don’t pay attention to the scene, not even listening to what they’re saying. I’m just focusing on Baz and his amazingly ridiculous appearance. Oh my god he looks so stupid, trotting his feet and flicking his hands like he’s holding reins. When he’s offstage I lean over to Penny, who’s jaw is also on the ground.

“What the hell is Baz doing here?!” I whisper.

“I...have no idea,” she replies very hushed. It’s the first time I’ve heard her admit she doesn’t know something.

The play continues, but I’m paying attention even less. I just keep waiting for Baz to show up again. I’m so jittery. My leg is shaking at lightspeed. Penny kicks my foot in an attempt to stop me but it doesn’t help. The only thing that makes it stop is seeing Baz gallop ridiculously on stage, along with Rapunzel’s Prince.

“Ah, there you are, good brother. Father and I had wondered where you had gone,” he says to Baz.

“I have been looking all night for her,” Baz replies. His voice is like it always is, smooth and commanding. Like he was born to tell people what to do. Usually I find it annoying, but right now it works. He is supposed to be a prince.

The two princes commiserate over their mutual impossible loves. They're both idiots.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel! What kind of name is that? You jest! I have never heard of such a thing,” Baz laughs out.

Rapunzel’s Prince snorts. “I speak the truth. She is as true as your maiden. A maiden running from a prince? None would run from us.”

“Yet,” Baz sighs, “she has.”

Then he starts singing, and my brain short circuits.

Holy shit. Baz is singing. And he’s singing well. His voice is a solid, smooth baritone. It reverberates through the theatre perfectly. I’m totally transfixed. Since when could Baz sing so incredibly?!

“Agony!” He belts. “Beyond power of speech. When the one thing you want, is the only thing out of your reach.”

Holy. Shit.

I don’t realise how much I’m gaping until Penny pushes up my hanging lower jaw back up. The whole song is quite ridiculous, and Baz sings it perfectly. He looks properly agonized through it. I didn’t know he could be so expressive. He’s, just, amazing.

The songs ends, and Baz exits. I don’t pay attention, what with my mind still spinning. So, Baz, my arsehole geeky roommate, can act, and sing, and looks weirdly amazing in a stupid prince costume. Okay, that’s a lot of new info to process.

Before I know it, the lights come back on, and Penny is tugging on my sleeve.

“Simon?”

I look up at her bewildered. “What?”

“C’mon, get up, I want to stretch my legs, and we can get some snacks. I bet you’re hungry.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’d be great.”

I follow behind her with my hands in my hoodie pockets. While Penny goes to the snack bar, I sit on a bench. Something stabs me in my pocket. I pull out the crumpled program. Wait, Penny mentioned this week the actors have bios in the program. I furiously flip through it.

I find Baz’s picture almost immediately. It’s black and white and a bit blurry but I can still make out his face. He looks normal in it. Tight shirt, glasses falling down his nose, hair tied up. But here, he's smiling slightly. Wow, I’ve never seen him look anything other than bored or annoyed. It’s weird, but also nice. I look down at the bio.

Baz Grimm-Pitch - Cinderella’s Prince A witty English literature major with a salt and vinegar crisp addiction plays Cinderella’s arrogant love. In his spare time, Baz plays the violin, studies the development of the English language, and competes in a recreational football league. “Into the Woods” is his first dramatic production.

I chuckle under my breath. Baz really is such a nerd. Even though I already know most of this, it’s kinda...cute? I’m not sure if that’s the right word but it feels right. The little blurb is just makes him sound so adorable. I can almost forget he’s an arsehole.

“Si, you want a cookie?”

I snap my head up to glare at a smirking Penny. She waves the chocolate chip cookie tauntingly. I snatch it from her hand, making sure to glare at her while I take a huge bite. She sits down next to me and looks over at the program.

“Huh,” she says, “at least they got a good photo of Basilton.”

“Yeah,” I reply quietly. “Still can’t believe he’s in this.”

“Me neither. I thought he was just a quiet academic like me.”

“Same, but...he’s actually really good.”

“I hate to give him a victory, but yeah, he is. He’ll probably be good in the second act too.”

I whip my head around to her, eyes wide. “Second act?! I thought the story was wrapped up!”

Penny shakes her head, swishing her curls. “Nope. There’s another part. It’s just as long.”

I look at my phone clock. “We’ve already been here for an hour and a half!”

She takes a bite of her cookie and smiles around the mouthful. “Yup. Welcome to musical theatre, Si.”

I groan and slump forward. The program is still in my hand, and still on Baz’s picture. Well...if Baz has got more songs, maybe I won’t mind staying.

———————————————-

So the second act, from what I can tell, pretty much destroys all the happy endings of the first act. Wow, okay, that’s not depressing at all. Everybody either gets squished by a giant or just generally fucks up. What a pleasant play.

Baz comes back on a few times. First, he and the other prince sing another version of the previous song. It’s the same tune and the same idea, but they’re singing about different impossible women. I chuckle. So Baz’s character is a total bastard. Kind of makes him seem like less of an arsehole by comparison.

Later, as everything in the story continues to fall apart, Baz runs into the Baker’s Wife. After one short conservation, the lights go pink, and the music gets slow. Baz starts approaching her with a smirk.

“Anything can happen in the woods,” he sings. “May I kiss you?”

My eyes pop out. Well, that’s forward. Far more forward than Baz probably really is. I know it’s just the play, but Baz looks so strong and handsome, that I believe him. And, is it wrong that I sort of wish it was real? That Baz would actually be that well, sexy? God, did I just call Baz sexy?!

Baz does kiss her, and it’s so intense that I blush. The Wife walks away from him, but he grabs her again and twirls her into his arms. Together, they glide across the wooden stage, occasionally kissing more. He spins her in and out, leading her around, all while singing a sleezy but beautiful song to seduce her.

“Foolishness can happen in the woods,” he croons. “Once again, please...let your hesitations be hushed. Any moment, big or small, is a moment after all. Seize the moment, skies may fall any moment.”

They kiss again, and I can’t believe how passionate it is. How passionate Baz is. It’s strange and wonderful to watch. All too soon, the Wife is pulling away and the kiss ends. But my brain is still swirling while Baz sings again.

“Right and wrong don't matter in the woods, only feelings. Let us meet the moment unblushed. Life is often so unpleasant. You must know that, as a peasant. Best to take a moment present. As a present, for the moment.”

With Baz’s last line, they walk off stage. I’m still blushing, and very confused by my own feelings.

Soon enough, the play ends. Baz’s character leaves Cinderella and marries Sleeping Beauty. (Wow, what a bastard.) But after all that misery, everyone atill alive is alright, I guess. The actors line up and bow. Everyone starts applauding. Oh shit. I quickly join. All the cast members smile brightly as they bow. And when Baz steps up, he’s no exception. Christ, he actually looks amazing when he smiles. It fits his face far better than a scowl or a thin flat line.

I’ve been learning a lot of new things about Baz tonight.

The cast leaves and the curtain falls. Lights turn back on. People start shuffling out. I’m still a bit dumbfounded to move though. I just saw Baz in a musical, where he sang and danced and kissed perfectly. He was fucking incredible. And I should let him know.

As we’re walking out the door, I turn to one of the ticket takers. “Hey, where are the actors coming out?”

“They should be in the alley to the left soon.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

On the sidewalk, I tug on Penny’s hand. “You can head home, Pen. I’m gonna stick around for a bit.”

Penny gives me a curious look, but just shrugs. “Alright then. See you, Si.”

“See you.”

She saunters off with a spring in her step. I watch her, wondering if I should run after and not do this. But I stay still. Fuck, what am I doing?

The actors trickle out one by one. I notice Baz’s friend and his cousin, but they run off before I can ask them where Baz is. The crowd thins until I’m the only one left, standing there like an idiot. Maybe I missed him. Maybe I should just go-

“Blasted dead mobile,” a familiar voice grumbles.

My head snaps up just in time to see Baz stop in his tracks. He looks like a deer in the headlights, grey eyes wide behind his spectacles. He’s back to his usual style of t-shirt and glasses and manbun. Back to the Baz I know. His mouth hangs open in complete and utter shock.

“Hey,” I say as casually as possible.

“Snow,” he replies shakily, a slight redness appearing on his cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

"I, just saw the show. The one you were in. Obviously. And I just wanted to find you and say you're uh, you were really good."

He visibly gulps, fiddling with his knapsack strap. “Thank you. I...didn’t realise you were a musical theatre fan.”

I chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “I’m not, not really. Penny convinced me to come. I didn’t expect to see you here either. Especially on stage. How the Hell did that happen?”

Baz sighs with both exasperation and what seems like a little happiness, maybe. “Well, if you must know, my cousin was the one who originally decided to audition and I helped him with his lines. I said he was shite, and he bet me I couldn’t audition better. I’m very competitive, so I made a real effort to do well. Then I got in. I was going to turn it down, but Dev convinced me to try. It’s been, weirdly fun. I like performing. And I made new friends. Turns out there’s more to life than studying.”

“Huh,” I chuckle, “that’s pretty neat. So all that pacing and humming in the washroom was you rehearsing your lines?”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t want you to know because it felt embarrassing. Sorry about that.”

I blink rapidly. Holy shit, I’m legitimately in shock. Baz Pitch just apologized to me. Wow. Tonight has been bizzare. “I-It’s okay. I get it now. Honestly, I just thought you were keeping me up on purpose because you hate me.” I try to laugh that last part off with a nervous chuckle.

Baz looks at the ground, shuffling his feet. I’ve seen Baz cold before, detached and pulled in and what not. But this is different. He looks...nervous. When he speaks, his words are shaky and quiet. “I don’t, you know. Hate you. I never have.”

My world tilts sideways. I nearly stumble backwards from the shock of his words. I look for any sign of deceit and find none. All I see is the anxious sort-of-teenager confessing something apparently really hard to say.

“Oh,” I stutter out. “You...you don’t?”

“No,” he says. “I just, I make arsehole comments when I’m nervous. Especially to those who...make me nervous.”

Huh? What the hell does he mean? “I, make you nervous?”

“Yes. You have almost since we met.”

I’m still confused. I take a moment to study Baz. His pulled in body language, his knapsack fiddling, his downcast eyes, his increasingly obvious blush-

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” I squeak. Baz sighs in an annoyed way. That probably wasn’t the response he wanted.

“Yeah,“ he grumbles. “Oh.”

Crap I don’t know what to say. I end up blurting out the first thing that comes to my dumb head. “So is that stereotype about guys in theatre being gay true?”

Baz head lifts up to better glare at me. His eyes are like stormy grey daggers. “No, obviously not. It’s a stereotype for a reason.”

Shit shit, I’m so bad at this. I run a hand through my tangled hair. “Right, right, sorry. I make dumb comments when I’m nervous.” I sigh and look right at him, eyes fixed despite my fear. “I guess what I’m trying to ask to in my stupid way is, are you gay? Just, want to make sure I'm not misinterpreting. I do that a lot.”

Baz’s face softens. No more steely glare, just neutral, save for his slightly pulled in lips. “Yes,” he says like he has to force the words out. “Yes, I am.” He gulps, fiddling with his strap like mad. “Are you?”

I shrug, because truthfully the only honest gesture. “Sorta, I guess. At least part of me must be, considering how much I like looking at you.”

He inhales sharply, and the blush starts creeping down his long neck. “Oh. That’s...not something I was aware of.”

“Honestly?” I chuckle, pulling at my hair again. “Me neither. I mean, I’m always looking at you, but I never thought about why too much. It wasn’t until the show that I realised how much I like to stare at you. Um, sorry if that’s creepy.”

“No,” he replies very quickly. “no, it’s uh, it’s actually fine.”

He’s blushing very hard. Shit, am I blushing too? It certainly feels like it. “Oh. Okay.”

We look at each other in silence for a long moment. I’m not sure what to say, and obviously neither does he. We’re just two idiots standing on a driveway. I feel my stomach rumble. Oh man, I’m a hungry idiot.

“So,” I say, rocking on my heels, “do you have anywhere to be?”

Baz shakes his head. “No, not really. I’m supposed to go to the wrap party but fuck that. I was just going to go home to the dorm.”

“Well, in that case, uh, you wanna go get something to eat? There’s a 24 hour diner near our dorm building.”

He looks at me curiously, studying me like a specimen. “Are you asking me as your roommate, a fan of my performance, or...something else?”

I chew my bottom lip. Cautiously, I step forward and and brush my fingers on the back of his hand. He doesn’t pull away, so I hold it loosely. “Something else, preferably.”

Baz looks at me with wide, open eyes, filled to the brim with worry. “Snow, you do remember that we're roommates, right? If whatever, this is doesn't work out, we're still going to have to live with each other for months. That would not be pleasant. And hell, Snow, you barely know me, really. Is this really worth the risk?”

My grip on his hand tightens. He still doesn’t pull away. “Y-Yeah, of course I know this could all blow up in our faces. But, Baz, I really want to try. Like, you currently occupy like 90% of my thoughts. And sure most of them were negative, because I thought were a prick.” He frowns at that. It’s actually adorable. “But now, I’d really like to find out what you’re like when you’re not a prick. So I think it’s worth the risk.” I take a deep breath, making sure to look at Baz right in the eye. “Do you?”

I can see the gears turning in his big head. I’ve seen it a hundred times in class when we have to solve a problem. It’s even more fascinating up close. How his lips shift, his eyes darting back in forth. He doesn’t let go of my hand the whole time though. I catch the moment his face relaxes though, when he makes his decision.

“Yes,” he says quietly, “I think it’s worth the risk too.”

We both grin at the same time. Fuck I never knew before tonight that seeing his smile could make me so happy. I think I want to see it a lot more.

“Well, c’mon then.” I tug on his arm, and we start walking. “I’m hungry.”

“When are you not hungry, Snow?”

I scoff. “I thought you were only a prick when you were nervous.”

“I’m about to go on a date with my roommate who I’ve been hopelessly pining after for over a year. So excuse me, but I’m very nervous.”

Wow, my whole face must look like a tomato right now. Looking over, I see that Baz is in the exact same state. Either this is going to be incredible or a complete disaster. I’m seriously hoping for the first one.

“Don’t be,” I say as kindly as I can, “it’s just a date. We’ll see how this goes and go with it, alright?”

Half his mouth pulls up in a lazy smile. I like him relaxed like this. “Okay. I can live with that.”

I grin. I can’t stop grinning tonight. “Awesome. Now, important first date question.” He looks at me curiously and somewhat afraid. “Where the hell did you learn to sing so well?”

Baz lets out a breathy laugh. “Playing the violin all your life gives you surprisingly good pitch. It only took a few sessions with the pianist to get the songs okay. Not that they were easy. Apparently Sondheim is never easy.”

“That’s amazing.” He examines me for any sign of mocking, but he won’t find anything. I genuinely thinks it’s really cool.

“Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

“Could I get a repeat performance?”

“No.” I pout as much as I can, bottom lip pushed very far out. Baz stays strong for a few more seconds, then sighs. “Maybe some other time.”

I smile again. “Awesome. Next question, what was it like getting into those tight prince pants?”

“I am not dignifying that question with an answer.”

“Oh c’mon! I’m just wondering.”

“And wondering you shall stay.”

I make a “pbblt” sound with my lips. “Fine, spoilsport. How about you tell me what the production was like? Penny says plays are all drama behind the scene too.”

“Fucking hell it was a nightmare! Dev, Niall, the Witch, and Cinderella were great, but generally actors are self absorbed idiots. First day, Rapunzel came in hungover and spilled her entire coffee on my shirt. Baker's wife was the the world's worst diva. And don’t get me started on the Wolf. He tried to bang every girl in the cast, and a couple of the guys too.”

He goes on like that as we walk down the dimly lit street hand in hand. I interject a bit of commentary here and there, but I just let him talk. He’s fun to listen to. I like his sarcastic, sharp humour. Especially when it’s not directed at me.

I think I like him. A lot.

———————————————-

“No no, I’m serious!” I say far too loud, considering the time and that we’re walking down the hall of our dorm building. “Jamie is gonna kill Cersei. It’s inevitable.”

“He’s already left King’s Landing though,” Baz replies cooly.

“Yeah, but he can come back.”

“I suppose. But I think he’s going to be too busy with the White Walkers to deal with his crazy twin sister.”

“Good point. Maybe it’ll be the finale, when Dany finally storms King’s Landing.”

“Ugh, she needs to do that already. It’s been eight seasons!”

“They’re keeping us in suspense.”

I groan and lean back against the dorm room door. “I know. It’s fucking torture.” I sigh looking at the brown piece of wood. It feels so massive right now. “So, we’re here.”

“I noticed.” Baz stands in front of me, with only a few feet between us.

“First date protocol says I’m supposed to walk you to the door. But we’ve got the same door, so...”

“Yes, I’m not quite sure what to do either.”

We stare at each other. I study his face, like I have been doing all night. I spent most of our meal staring at him as he talked. I can finally admit to myself that I like to do that, and now I can also say I like his laugh, his smile, and the way he talks about his passions. I just keep seeing him in a new light. Everything feels different and new and scary. I love it.

“So,” I say quietly, “did you have fun?”

Baz smiles softly. “Yes, I did.”

“Would you, be persuaded to do this again?

“Is that your way of asking me out for a second date, Snow?”

I shrug up to my pink tinged ears. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Then yes. I would like to do this again.”

I nod rapidly, far too nervous for my own good. “Okay, cool, awesome, sounds good. Do we...just go to bed now?”

Baz shrugs slightly. “I suppose so.”

We immediately go back to staring. But my gaze drifts downwards, to his thin lips that are currently pressed together. I still remember that stage kiss. I know that was all fake, but I wonder what the real thing would be like that. I wonder if that passion translate to real life. To me.

“Simon...” Baz whispers. He’s somehow gotten closer. And my breath hitches, because he’s looking at my mouth too.

Fuck it.

I grab the front of his shirt and kiss him hard.

Baz gasps against my mouth, but very quickly sinks into it. His lips slide with mine perfectly. He presses one hand to my neck and buries the other in my hair. I groan and slide mine across his back. Christ, he’s so fucking fit. I want to tear his shirt off and feel all these muscles directly on my finger.

“Kissing on the first date, Snow?” Baz whispers playfully in one of the few moments we aren’t liplocked. “Scandalous.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I grumble, holding his hips tighter.

After a few more kisses, he pulls away with a small grin. My knees buckle at the devilish glint in his grey eyes. He looks just as sexy as he did on stage. “Well,” he drawls, “if you insist.”

For the second time tonight, my brain completely short circuits.

This is so new and scary, yet, I’m so fucking excited. I suppose it’s going to be an adventure. Into the unknown. Into the woods, I suppose.

I kiss him again, clenching my fist in his hair so hard his man bun falls apart, curtaining our faces in black strands. He pushes a hand under my shirt to feel up my stomach. I fumble with the keycard and get the blasted door open, then pull Baz in by the back of his neck. The door closes, and the rest of the night is a blissful whirlwind.

Hooray for musical theatre.

———————————————- AN: "Blargh" is copyright Theo the Fanfic Writer and anyone who steals it will be sued. /s ;)

So yeah, musicals! "Into the Woods" is my favourite musical of all time and I think Baz would be a perfect Cinderella's Prince. Also I've always thought Baz would be an incredible singer. Simon would be floored lol. Sorry if this is a little rough tbh. Hard to describe someone watching a musical haha. I struggled writing it but, I had fun in the end. I love writing Simon the Oblivious Pining Idiot. Requests are still open and I will get to them between being dead from work. Hope you enjoyed this :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #musical #fluff #into the woods #making out #mysnowbazfic #long post

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thong-in-the-twist · 7 years

Text

Persona (non) grata

Summary: oldie but goldie - police&criminal!AU

You’ve learnt not to talk about certain things at a pretty young age. You didn’t understand that back then. Children don’t understand why they are not allowed to say some things. They take the censorship at the face value – it’s just another thing that parents impose on you, like wearing pants and washing your teeth. Another stupid rule to make your life a little more boring. To make you more like them.

But then you’ve learnt that you are one of those few whose censorship is stronger than the rest.

Take the simple question: what your parents do? It’s an easy question, that is being asked a lot at a certain age. It’s greeted with smiles and proud answers, and follow-up questions whether you want to be like your mom, your dad, your whoever.

Your answer was usually greeted with small oh and awkward stares. If you were lucky.

If you weren’t, it resulted with parents forbidding their kids to play with you.

That’s what you get when your parents are criminals.

They weren’t bad parents. You were fed, and loved, and clothed, and scolded, and raised – but the money supporting the family came from various sources, none of them totally white, totally legal.

Up till the end of the primary school you even had a permanent place of residence, your parents, though shady, part of the community.

Until the big job came around, and with it big money, and pretty nice wanted poster, which your parents still keep as a weird family photo. They were proud.

They were loaded and proud, and you were loaded and lonely. Except for constant police surveillance. As if you parents were stupid enough to appear in front of you. They left you with squeaky clean laundered money, and arrays of house ladies to cook, to clean, maybe even to raise you.

But you didn’t go around answering questions like: who are your parents? Why they never come to see you?

You met him for the first time in front of the building of your high school. Half of the kids came with their proud parents, and you passed them indifferently. Even if one day you felt a pang at that, it wasn’t there anymore. And your mom called you in the morning to wish you good luck on the secured line.

You weren’t dysfunctional family – just – different.

And there the boy was, all smiley and happy, kind of embarrassed to be driven to school by the parents, waving them away. His father patted him on the back, mother kissed his cheek – looking smart and professional in her fitted suit. She sported high ponytail, that made you kind of want to replicate that.

Your eyes locked with boy’s father as you were passing them, and you bowed politely, and he narrowed his eyes at you, while mother squeezed her son’s shoulder. The boy himself spotted the sudden interest of his parents behind him, and he turned around to look at you.

You winked at him, earning yourself an uncomfortable cough from the cop that used to be part of your surveillance team, and detective that is probably still on the force trying to catch your parents (as soon as they are back from the non-extradition country that are currently at).

The boy takes to eyeing you. In the beginning you only met on corridors, since you were in a different classes, but every time you saw him, he was looking at you with a curiosity chiseled into his futures – soon enough everyone believed he had a crush on you.

But you knew better.

Either he didn’t know why would you greet his parents, and he was dying to find out, or he knew and he saw you like this curious specimen, the abandoned child of thieves.

This changed in the second year, because you ended up in the same classroom. It took him three days, before he was sliding on the chair in front of you during a break, chin resting on the backrest. He looked at you until you looked up.

“Yeah?” You asked, trying to sound as withdrawn as possible. He narrowed his eyes at you, but then he smiled, relaxing his face.

“So… What’s the deal with you?”

You didn’t answer back then, and you didn’t answer hundred questions that came after the first one. And he kept trying. He kept pestering you day after day, week after week, month after month, apparently deaf to all the kids’ teases about his helpless crush.

And boy, was he persistent.

You told your mom about him, and she laughed and laughed, and then called your father to say how hilarious it would be if their son-in-law was son of the cops.

You didn’t join in with the laughter.

He stopped pestering you in the third year. After vacations he came back taller, way taller than you remembered him, and his face lost most of his childish appeal – making way for sharp angles and pronounced bones.

His eyelashes were always dark and nice, but suddenly they started catching your interest.

But he no longer came to slide on the seat in front of you, or next to you, whichever was empty to ask you who you were. Now he was sitting down at his own desk, with open book, studying as hard as he could. It wasn’t weird – he wasn’t the only one to do that, you were seniors after all.

You didn’t make much out of it – you weren’t that keen on studying, that’s the only thing your parents couldn’t force you to do. They were making more money stealing than 90% of university graduates.

So while your classmates were studying you found a new group to hang out with. With fake id in your hand you were learning the hedonistic ways of life. Clubs, karaoke bars, even your own house. All was the place for debauchery.

But you quietly attended your classes, more to make sure that they didn’t have a reason to call for your parents (because it would be a hell to pay for you if they did) than to receive the education. You had to suffer through countless consultations about your future, what you should study, where you should study. It took one outburst of my parents are criminals, no need for me to study for your teachers to never take you on one of those again.

Somewhere in the middle of the year you overheard your room teacher talking to your math teacher about how curious the life is. To have in one class the kids of both cops and criminals, with both of them wanting to follow in their parent’s footsteps.

That’s how you learnt that Haein was studying to become a cop.

His parents came to the graduation. Yours didn’t. You greeted them just like you did back on the first day of high school, and Haein looked at you, old curiosity sparked anew. His parents were as taken aback as they were those three years before, but even you couldn’t spoil their day.

After taking pictures with parents and friends he ran after you. He asked for a photo, and it was a first time he asked you something different than what’s your deal, so you said yes. You smiled and raised victory sign to your face as you looked into his camera.

He smiled brightly, head tipped to your side, took picture and thanked you afterwards.

You saw him again two years later, while out in the club. The night wasn’t any different from those countless before. You didn’t know why he happened to be in this club, but at the same you didn’t know why you were in this particular club either. It seems like things like that just happen.

You saw him, or rather he saw you, when you pushed in next to him at the bar, laughing with a random guy you met a moment before.

You waved the bartender and turned to the guy, when you heard your name spoken with a note of doubt. You turned around to face the caller, Haein, whose face lit up when he saw you.

You did the talk. How are you, how is life, what have you been doing? Your answers were short and brisk, but it didn’t put him off. It seemed like he genuinely wanted to know how you were.

You learned that police academy was coming along quite well.

Your dancing partner for the night ordered shots, and forced one into your hand. You took it as a rescue it was. You downed it, and threw a short see you around, and drugged the guy back to the dance floor.

Next time you saw him it was a rather awkward meeting.

Your car was hit by another car, while Haein was out on his patrol, and he happened to see it – so he forced the driver to wait for the owner of damaged car (you), since it seemed to be really luxurious. Because it was.

Nearly five years passed since you graduated high school, but neither of you changed. His face lit up when he saw you, and the sheer wonder at your car made you uncomfortable. Maybe it wasn’t best money could buy, but it was pretty close.

It’s been really long since your parents’ money started making money. At the same time your money, were making money as well, all in legal investments. You were managing the legal part of your parents’ empire – not being allowed to touch anything that wasn’t perfectly legal or squeaky clean.

You settled with the other driver quickly, and he drove away as soon as he can, leaving you with Haein. He looked like a model citizen in his uniform, reminding you of boy scout. He eyed your car long enough for you to grow uncomfortable.

“I know it’s been years…” He said suddenly, turning to you while you drank vending machine coffee on the street, leaning against street railing. “But seriously, what’s the deal with you?”

You shrugged, not answering, and you downed your coffee, ready to hit the road.

You father slipped. It was bound to happen, sooner or later, and you were surprised it lasted so long. Most of the empire came tumbling down, your mother fleeing on her own, but you didn’t worry. Not much anyway. Your mother would be fine, settling in a new place, forming her new kingdom, your investments were safe, and your father… At least you knew that for the first time in years you’d be able to see him anytime you wanted.

In prison, after a fair trial. Obviously. He joked that it was his retirement.

But he could still be acquitted. Things like that did happen too.

But you got called in for questioning. It was something you couldn’t just skip and even if you considered it unnecessary hassle, and you still had to go.

You were prepped half of your life for this to happen, so you didn’t flinch when they led you to interrogation room. You sat at the table on the uncomfortable chair, not having to try to look bored. You were bored.

And you knew that they were trying to shake you up by leaving you alone for prolonged period of time – probably looking at you though the mirror.

When the door finally opened and detective came in, you were in for a surprise. Or maybe you expected that?

Haein looked a little shaken, and though his face did not lit up, his eyes looked as if they did. He sat down in front of you, his eyes snapping to the mirror, and it made you wonder whether his mother was behind the glass. After all her team was the one to catch your father in the end.

Which made you wonder where in the force was Haein’s father right now.

“Congrats on your promotion.” You said, and he looked up surprised, and he smiled a little, before he schooled himself realizing he shouldn’t have done that.

“Well, thank you. I would like to ask some questions, if you wouldn’t mind?” He said, trying to be serious, and you smiled.

“Ask away, but you do know, since, well, we’ve known each other for quite a long time, that while I don’t mind you asking, I am not about to answer anything.” Haein snickered a little, his eyes jumping to the mirror, as if checking if people behind it saw him lose control.

After that he was all professional. Asking questions, one by one, and you refused to answer every single one of them. It was a dreary and dull process, but finally you were done.

“Well, at least now, I know what was the deal with you.” He said as he walked you out. You said nothing, but at the main entrance you stopped, and asked the very first question of your own.

“Was my family a frequent guest in your family’s dinner discussions?” Haein smiled apologetically.

“Yeah.”

Courtroom is filled to the brim. Reporters, reporters and reporters, with miscellaneous crowd thrown in the mix, they are all here to see your father, and usually – to see the justice be served.

Your father looks old. Older. And tired. Way more tired than when you saw him for the last time. Was it junior high? High school? You don’t remember really. You exchanged photos, and they did contact you on a weekly basis, but to see him in real life – that was first in ages.

And people gawked at you as well. The daughter of the criminal. Filthy rich daughter of the criminal, still walking free, but probably she’s next in line. How bold of her to come here. How bold of her to be in this sacred place, where the justice will be served.

You’d like to say that it bothered you. That you feel the modicum of shame. The truth is – you don’t. You are not ashamed of your father. You are not ashamed of being in the courtroom.

To see the justice be done.

Although you are not sure that it will be done.

Police with prosecutors froze your father’s assets. But they didn’t froze neither yours nor your mothers (and it’s not like they found all of your father’s accounts anyway). So your family, in the world where money is power, wasn’t powerless.

Of course he had the best lawyer. Not in town, no. Your mother flew him into the country, to ensure that your father would be back with her in less than a year.

And you came to see if it was possible.

You notice Haein sitting in the first row, probably to serve as a witness.

Sure enough somewhere in the middle of the pre-trial, he is called to the witness stand, and your father sends you a surprised glance. You shrug, even though you are surprised that he remembered about the boy that used to pester you in high school.

Haein catches up with you after the trial. You don’t greet him, but you allow him to fall in step with you.

“You saw your father.” He says, hands in his pockets.

He looks nice in the formal uniform. Better. Taller. More responsible. You still remember him in the fluorescent traffic vest.

“I did.” You answer, moving your bag to your other arm. You have no idea why, but you didn’t like it being between the two of you.

As if he could steal something from you.

“You’ll be able to see him more often now, I guess.” If it wasn’t Haein, smiley, clueless Haein, you’d consider the sentence offending. You’d stop, and you’d put on your sassy attitude to put down the person trying to undercut you.

“I will enjoy it, while it lasts.” You say, because that is what you plan to do. His hand suddenly grabs your arm and he jerks you to stop.

“What does it mean?” He asks. You are taken aback, and you brush away his hand, and he seems embarrassed when his hand drops to his side.

“It means that you are not going to put him away, Haein.”

You stop going to see your father trial after the third day. It’s a sad play really.

They try, oh boy, do they try. Evidence after evidence, expert after expert, witness after witness, and the lawyer throws them out one after another. It’s methodical, meticulous, and really, sad to watch. The frustration in the court is palpable, judge pleading the prosecutor to bring something undefeatable. Reporters ceasing stopping with their stories, because of the unsatisfying plotline.

It’s never fun when the bad guys win.

Money. There is nothing more powerful than money.

You are being cynical, but it’s hard not to in the world that you found yourself in.

Haein comes to you. It’s surprising, really. You don’t remember if he ever reached out to you on his own. He usually came to you when you were in the vicinity anyway.

But you don’t show how surprised you feel, when you assistant leads him into your office. Office which looks like CEO’s office.

Because that’s who you are.

“Haein.” You greet him, as you never did, and his eyes snap to you, and he nods. He looks like detective, but it shouldn’t be surprising – he is one.

You sit in the armchair, and he sits on the couch. He says yes to proposed coffee, and you sit in silence waiting for your assistant. He looks out of the window in the meantime, clearly impressed with the view.

You look at Haein.

He is fidgety. Not like him. He doesn’t want to be here. Or he doesn’t want to say what he is about to.

Coffee comes, and he finally looks at you.

“Did your mother send you?” You ask before he gathers himself enough to speak. He blinks and takes a sip of your coffee. Your own blend.

You take the cup in your hand, but you don’t drink. You warm your hands.

“Yeah.” He says, when he realizes that you are not going to let him avoid the topic.

“To talk me into testifying against my father?” You pose it as a question, but it is a statement.

“Yes.” He answers after a moment of silence. His voice is quiet, when he does it.

You exhale, you put the cup down on the saucer and you stand up, Haein looking after you as you walk through your office.

“Does she know that we are in no relationship, that would justify this kind of plea?” You ask, rhetorically, and you stop at the doors, opening them for him.

He looks taken aback and shaken, and you don’t understand that. What did he expect after coming to ask to snitch on your father. He gathers himself and stands up.

“I think she realizes that I’m open to the idea.”He says, as he walks to you.”Maybe it’s her way of punishing me for that.”

He walks out, and turns on his heel.

“Goodbye, Haein.” You say flatly, closing the doors, not addressing the confession you just received.

Come to think of it, it’s not surprising. Not surprising at all. You should have expected it sooner. Maybe even back in high school.

Maybe he had a crush on you back then, and he tried to get over it after you graduated – but you were constantly appearing in his life. For a moment, with long periods of not existing in his life, but often enough to throw him of his track.

Or maybe that was his trick to somehow force you into testifying against your father.

Which would be really futile.

It isn’t only about you two being family, and you being loyal – you actually know nothing about the crime he committed. It happened years ago, before you went to junior high, and the statue of limitations is only few years from now. You know nothing.

But it’s still inappropriate for him to even consider asking.

To national outrage, your father goes free. For the first time in years, he can freely walk on the land that belongs to your country.

At least until they find some new evidence. Or he commits another crime and gets caught. Which is unlikely at this point.

In his own words, which he utters to you before flying back to reunite with your mother, he won’t do anything that would jeopardize him walking you down the aisle during your wedding.

Which would be lovely, if he didn’t ask about Haein back there.

You don’t know. You saw him briefly during the last day of the trial, looking pale while sitting next to his fuming mother.

He still looked dashingly handsome.

It’s weird how easy it is to fall back and live your life the way one used to.

Except is not.

Haein’s confession wasn’t explicit or romantic in any way, but it is all that occupies your mind, when you go out clubbing, when you went go out on dates, when you work, when you shop, when you rest.

It’s there. Constant maddening reminder of… What exactly?

A person that sees you in you, despite coming from different family.

Or so you explain to yourself.

But you don’t seek him out. You are in no position to do so, and your pride wouldn’t allow you to do so. And now, with nearly two decades of you living on your own, having a company is not high on your list of priorities. It seems more like a choir.

Your parents take on asking about Haein with every call. They are still using the secure line, your father got away with not-murder, but no one is about to push your luck to check whether your mother could repeat the trick.

It’s like high school all over again, with your parents being as persistent as Haein once was.

Another criminal was caught. Embezzling money, bribes, black market. One arrest shook the world of others like him.

He is a businessman. Owner of his own company.

Company that you used to deal with – sometimes.

The moment you see the news, you call your legal department to leave some special instructions – because search and seize warrant is a possibility.

But you are a gambler, and you are quite sure, it’s not going to happen.

Haein comes. With few police officers and another detective. Your assistant leads them in, except for the officers – no reason for you to entertain the pawns. You are drinking coffee when they enter, already sitting in the armchair, and you refuse to stand up to greet them.

Not when they arrive hostile.

“I’m willing to cooperate.” You say, putting the cup on the saucer. Haein and the other detective exchange glances. The stranger looks wary, but Haein, smiley, clueless Haein doesn’t.

He smiles, and comes to sit down on the couch, asking if he could get a cup of the amazing coffee he had here last time. The stranger approaches slowly, as if not understanding what was happening.

You call for your assistant and you decide for the other detective and you get two coffees for them.

This time you exchange empty pleasantries with them, while waiting for their coffees.

You allow them to take a sip of the beverage, before you speak up.

“How can I help you?”

The other detective sputters, and he immediately puts his coffee down, while Haein seems to enjoy it.

“Ma’am…” Starts the stranger, but you don’t really want to listen to him.

“Before you say anything, I want you to understand, that, by default, I am quite distrustful of the police force. Which I hope is not surprising.” You say, Haein seems thoughtful as he analyses your words. The other one seems just taken aback.

But before he says anything, Haein turns to him slowly, and subtly shows him the doors.

Even if the detective feels insulted, he doesn’t show that.

“So…” Prompts Haein, after the doors behind the spare one closes.

“I prepared all the documentation regarding my company’s dealings with the defendant.” You say, fixing yourself in the armchair, your body turning more to Haein.

He blinks, once, twice, and then smiles.

“How about preparing the documentation regarding your dealing with feelings for me?”

You blink, once, twice, and then you laugh.

You kissed him right there, back then. The thing itself wasn’t new. You kissed and fucked fair share of men in your life, and the basics felt pretty similar.

But having Haein be the one to stare at you, when you pulled away, forehead against forehead – that was new and exciting.

Soon enough information is out that you and your company is clear, nothing illegal in your documents. You know that, and you knew that before – because you stayed clear of anything illegal in your life.

Except for your parents and their money.

But what was yours in paper? It was legal.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Whispers Haein, and you ignore him, like you used to do so many times back in high school.

However, for the first time in your life, you probably should acknowledge him. But with all your respect (or lack of thereof ) to armed forces there are things that you always wanted to do.

And detective boyfriend is your… Permit.

“Really not a good idea.” He whispers, looking around his shoulder.

“The more you talk the longer it takes.” You whisper back sternly, and he turns back to stare at you, and you stare back at him. It last long enough for him to deflate a little, obviously realizing that you are not going to change your mind.

But when he rolls his eyes you can see the shadow of a smile on his lips.

“Ok, let’s get on with it.”

As if he’d really be able to say no to you sucking him off in a cell.

“Are you into roleplay?”

That is not an appropriate question to be asked in your office, so you look up from your computer screen. You are sitting at your desk, and Haein is sprawled on one of your couches with cup of coffee in front of him. His notebook and pen are laying on the coffee table, and there is also an open file, but you refuse to look at it.

Haein’s head is resting on the backrest, and he looks at you quite thoughtful. You don’t answer, trying to show him that it’s not a question to ask in your office.

His head rolls back, and he looks at the ceiling.

“I guess you are.” He mumbles, and you raise your eyebrows. You say nothing focusing back on your work. “You did get me off in the cell.”

“That doesn’t mean that I’m into roleplay though.” You say dismissively.

“Yeah.” He agrees. In the silence that follows you manage to write an email, and you nearly forget about the topic, when he follows: “that would be awesome, though.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“Yeah.” He says, and his eyes are sparkling, a smile tugging at his lips. “Cause I thought about officially introducing you to my parents, and that would require us playing role of upstanding citizens.”

Through the mirage of emotions, the most baffling one is your appreciation of him using the pronoun “us.

“Are your parents flying in?” It turns out Haein likes to ask you questions when you are in no mood to answer them. It was true years ago, and it’s true now.

You turn the page in your book.

“Well, my father is flying in.” You answer. Which should be obvious – it’s not like you are going to walk yourself down the aisle. Haein, smiley, not so clueless anymore, Haein, grabs your hand and kisses the engagement ring. You know that his way to show that he understood what you tried to imply.

“Is your mother flying in?”

Your mother is flying in. She would never skip your wedding, that’s for sure. But the thing is, with half of Haein’s department, and half of yours city police invited, it’s not like she is going to be sitting at one of the tables at the reception.

But you’ve worked it out. Your family has means to do weird shit.

“Nooo…” You say, and you actually look up from your book. Haein laughs at you.

“Oh my god, you used to be a better liar.” You close the book on your thumb, and you hit him with it.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you that!” You say indignantly.

“C’mon, that’s unfair!” He says, but to be sure he grabs the book out of your hand and puts it away. You are not happy with that, since you don’t know the page, but then he is hugging you, and bring you close, and you hit his arm, annoyed. “I want your mother to be there! She is going to be my mother-in-law!”

“I am pretty sure that your mother wants her at our wedding just as much.”

Haein doesn’t have to consider that even for a moment.

You both know that is one hundred percent true.

“One, two, three, and… smile!” You smile, but as soon as the photo is taken, you look to the side annoyed. Your father shrugs apologetically.

You had no idea that your family is so big!

And that half of them are criminals just like your parents (which horrified Haein informed you about, as soon as they started gathering). It is going to be one hell of a wedding, really. One half of the wedding hall filled with cops, the other with not-so-upstanding-citizens.

Haein’s head appears in the doors, and he pauses for a second when he sees you. He saw you in the wedding dress few times already, but the pure admiration does wonders on your ego.

He came to tell, that it’s about to start.

Well, sure as hell it won’t start without you, but you nod, feeling the adrenaline strike. Haein doesn’t go immediately, opting to stay a second longer, biting his lip, and you smile at him, brightly, feeling how happiness bubbles in your gut, and you wave him away.

In like half an hour he is going to be yours.

Your father offers you his arm, and you look at him in need of reassurance.

He pats your hand on his arm, and together you leave the room you’ve been confined in for the last few hours, and you walk together down the empty corridor. You need to stop yourself from fidgeting on your heels, but it’s really exciting and nerve-wracking to be standing in front of the double winged doors, knowing that there is Haein waiting for you at the end of the aisle on the other side.

The moment you the doors open, you realize that you were right about having one hell of a wedding.

Your mother decided to just show up. Wanted criminal sitting at the close family places, just next to the aisle, across from Haein’s mother. The top detective trying to catch your mother.

But the music is playing, and you go down the aisle, with your father at your side, and Haein looking at you with eyes bright, and broad smile, and that’s all you wanted to see.

Although you can still see your mother waving smugly to Haein’s mother and you realize that it’s not going to be good.

Hell breaks loose after the vows. The moment the rings are on, and Haein and you (now husband and wife) kiss, Haein’s parents stand up – probably to clap, but that alarms your mother and she bolts upright and runs out of the building.

Immediately half of the Haein’s part of the wedding hall jumps to their feet to go after her, to what your own family reacts by standing up to stop them.

In seconds you and Haein are left alone in the wedding hall. He is still holding you, and your hands are still on his nape as you look at all the empty space. You can hear people shouting outside, and you can here running and cars, and police sirens, and that is just ridiculous.

You turn your head to look at Haein, and he was just waiting for that.

He kisses you, slow and deep, tongue sliding along your teeth, lips pressing hard against yours.

“It’s been years since I asked that, but seeing what happened here…” He says when you finally part, and you realize that you no longer care what happened with your family (and Haein’s). From this point onwards, you two are the family. “What is the deal with you and your family?”

#jung hae in #jung haein #jung haein scenario #jung hae in imagine #jung hae in scenario #jung haein imagine #kdrama scenarios #kdrama imagine #kdrama scenario #kdrama imagines #kdrama

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surveystodestressme · 7 years

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59.

5000 Question Survey Pt. 14

1301. Can “what you don’t know” actually hurt you? i mean, no. 1302. Are you pondering what I’m pondering? probably not 1303. What people or objects would you describe as “pure”? babies, uhh... idk what else 1304. Are you into bookcrossing (If you aren’t sure, check out www.bookcrossing.com)? no idea what that is 1305. Have you ever had a pen pal? yep! i think i have one now except we just talk online instead of sending letters

1306. Have you ever had a package pal (same as a pen pal but you send each other surprise gifts instead of letters)? that’d be so cool but no 1307. Is there a particular word or phrase that annoys you? i hate when people say “i haven’t seen you in a minute” that shit is SO annoying to me 1308. Is there an online game you like to play? i like to play tons of online games 1309. What group of people is the most discriminated against in your opinion or experience? recently it’s been black people, at least in the area that i live in. 1310. What do you like best about bras and underwear? the designs or fabrics 1311. Are you afraid of living in oblivion? kind of 1312. Before you were born you got to pick your life from one of these. Which do you pick? You are successful from the start, a musical genius, good looking, wealthy. You become a rock tar, get super famous, make your mark on the world and die at 27. You are caring and compassionate. You love animals and adopt more and more as you grow older. You foster and nurture and care for them all of your life. <—- this one because I LOVE ANIMALS AND WANT TO DO THIS IN MY LIFE CURRENTLY ANYWAYS You sit home playing video games for 70 years. 1313. What is broken in your: Car? the check engine light is always on but i think it’s a messed up sensor or something (not my car tho just the one i drive from time to time) School? the vending machine gets my food stuck in it alll the time and i have to put extra money in House? our upstairs shower is caulked correctly so it leaks into the shelving and it sucks Life? my motivation. Soul? my lack of ambition??? idk Brain? i just have anxiety if that counts 1314. Which one will you fix first? the shower would be nice 1315. Tell me all your thoughts on god: i do not believe that there is a god. i think religion is very interesting to learn about but i do not believe there is some magical man in the sky who controls the world and watches over everything. that seems a little farfetched to me 1316. What is the strangest note you’ve ever received? uhhh i don’t know. i used to send notes to my friend in pig latin when we were in middle school 1317. Of the following how many can be used to get in touch with you? Phone Beeper Voice mail Email Cell phone Snail mail all but the beeper. 1318. Are you always available/easy to reach, or do you give people a chance to miss you? i’m usually pretty easy to get ahold of 1319. If you got pregnant or impregnated the person you are with now (hypothetical if there is no one in your life just now) would you lean more towards keeping, adopting out, or aborting the baby? i have so many problems with this question because i feel like i wouldn’t know unless i was in the situation. i do not ever want kids. i want to say that if i got pregnant right now that i would put it up for adoption but i feel like i would probably have to abort it... 1320. If your partner in the pregnancy did not agree with how you felt and pressured you to change your mind or just went ahead with what he or she wanted to do against your wishes, would that affect your ability to continue your relationship with this person? he knows how i feel, and he agrees. we’ve talked about it several times 1321. Who should have the final say in the decision to have a baby, the woman or the man? the woman 1322. If your boyfriend or girlfriend cheats on you for the first time, do you forgive him or her and take him or her back? i want to say that i’d leave him, but i know it would be hard 1323. What if it is your husband or wife that cheats on you? i’d get divorced because i would never be able to trust them again 1324. Who is more responsible for educating children, parents or schools? i feel like it should be a little of both. there are tons of things that aren’t taught at schools and should be the responsibility of the parents to then teach at home 1325. Are you into new age things? yes. 1326. Are you very: Nervous? all the time Anxious? yeah High strung? on occasion Organized? most of the time Tense? sometimes. Rigid? i don’t think so Skeptical? nah. 1327. Do you perceive reality differently from others? How? i don’t know 1328. If you asked someone, “Do you masturbate?” and he or she says, “No,” would you assume he or she was lying? probably, tbh 1329. What do you blame things on? depends on the situation 1330. Do you want to be naked and famous? no???? 1331. Ice Cube or LL Cool J? ice cube 1332. What are your feelings about rap music? i'm okay with some of it 1333. Cypress Hill or Roxy Music? don;t know wither of these BSB or N'sync or NKOTB? bsb. Debbie Gibson or Paula Abdul? paula abdul Eminem or Kid Rock? eminem. Weezer or the Get Up Kids? weezer 1334. If you could solve just one of the world’s problems what would you choose to solve? cure for cancer. 1335. Would you make a good: Counselor? probably not, tbh. i give good advice but like sometimes i just don’t know what to say Visual artist? this would be cool but idk if it’s for me Teacher? no bc i hate kids Pilot? i’m afraid of heights lol Secretary? i feel like it would be too boring Cashier? i do a good job at that now Waiter or waitress? yeah Veterinary assistant? that’s what i’m going to school for !!!!!! so i hope so Office manager? yeah Stage manager? probably Actor or actress? i think i am a terrible actress plus i get so nervous in front of crowss Sales girl or guy? yes. Pizza delivery girl or guy? i wouldn’t mind it Film director? maybe Business man or woman? no CEO? no Surgeon? not for humans Fire man or woman? nope Cop? nooo. 1336. Do you check condoms to see if they are expired before using them? nope but i probably should 1337. Imagine you are in school and a person of the opposite sex you barely know asks you really nicely for a ride home from class (yes, you have a car). It’s out of your way. Do you say yes? not if i barely know them Let’s say you said yes. S/he hugs you. What is your reaction? since i barely know this person i would think this is really odd As you drop him or her off s/he hugs you again and thanks you for being such a nice person. What do you make of all this? i would think the hug is odd but i’d just say you’re welcome and drive off 1338. Are you interested in post-apocalyptic (post-nuclear war) movies? yeah 1339. What is the saddest movie you ever saw? romeo and juliet is pretty sad 1340. What is the saddest thought you can think of? watching someone you love die 1341. Who is the most horrible driver you know? me lol 1342. Are you a sexist in any way? nah 1343. How often do you check your email? as often as i can 1344. How often do you check your diary for notes? everyday 1345. If you had to read a biography about someone, who would you pick? morgan freeman 1346. Which of your friends and relatives has the most interesting life story? my grandparents 1347. What’s the matter with kids today? they’re not disciplined 1348. How do you feel about censorship? i don’t think we need censorship honestly 1349. What was on the last CD you burned? a bunch of 90s rap 1350. What movie should be released on DVD but hasn’t been released yet? i don’t really get dvds anymore 1351. Have you ever wished for wings that work? no 1352. Have you ever imagined that you are not really of this world? yeah sometimes 1353. Did you have an imaginary friend as a child? two, actually. one named stacey who always flew on a magic carpet. and dawalls which were literally the walls. my siblings and i talked to the walls when we were younger 1354. Do you still have imaginary friends? no. 1355. Do you enjoy reading children’s books? sometimes i guess 1356. Are you decadent? idk 1357. What would make you happy that money cannot buy? love. 1358. What would make you happy that money can buy? a new car 1359. Where do you hang out on your spare time? my house or jack’s 1360. Do you delight in minor euphoria? idk what that is. 1361. It’s (what time is it?) ______. 12:13 am Do you know where your: Mom is? at stef’s Dad is? at work First boyfriend or girlfriend is? i have no idea honestly Boy or girlfriend is? in the same room as me Best friend is? in the same room as me Soul mate is? in the same room as me Wallet is? in the same room as me, in my purse 1362. Who do you feel sorry for? no one right now 1363. What will you never say in front of your parents? there’s not much that i wouldn’t say in front of my parents 1364. Do you change your personality and behavior depending on who you are with? no 1365. Are you waiting for marriage to lose your virginity? lol no 1366. What year were you born? 1996 1367. What is your sign? aries 1368. What year did you/will you graduate from high school? 2014 1369. Do you use moisturizer? just recently started to 1370. On what parts of your body? my face and neck 1371. Are the 70’s back in style? lol not that i know of 1372. Do you read any magazines? no. 1373. Do you read before going to sleep at night? sometimes. 1374. Are you a music maker? nah 1375. Are you a dreamer of the dreams? i guess??? 1376. How do you feel about large corporations? whatever. 1377. How do you feel about people who are, “just doing their job”? ^ 1378. Which would you watch of these choices: Pitch black The mummy This Pretty woman 1380. About what percent of the time do you feel good about yourself? 80% 1381. Do you feel comfortable with other people (in social situations)? for the most part 1382. Do you have good friends/family relationships? yes. 1383. How do you control your tension and anxiety? i don’t lol 1384. Are you able to meet the demands of life and function in society? kind of 1385. Do you curb your feelings of hatred and guilt? sometimes 1386. Do you maintain a positive outlook? yes. 1387. Does knowing you enrich the lives of others? i couldn’t say 1388. What things do you cherish? the people i love, a roof over my head, food on my table, a job, school 1389. To what extent do you value diversity? very much so. 1390. What fascinates you? the world around me and what’s happening in it 1391. Do you appreciate nature? yeah 1392. If you could be someone else for a day who would you be? morgan freeman 1393. Would you ever consider ‘psychic surgery’ if you were ill? idek what that is How about voodoo? probably not Herbal remedies? maybe 1394. How effective do you feel meditation is? i’ve done it before, i mean it’s kind of relaxing 1395. How effective do you feel prayer is? not at all tbh 1396. How do you think that you (or anyone, for that matter) could pray without ceasing? idk 1397. Is religion a live option for you (that is, a possibility, something you are drawn to even if you have no belief)? i guess it could be 1398. What part of your body do you lavish the least attention and love on? tummy 1399. How many clocks are in your house? at least 10 1400. What topics would you like to see more of on this survey? different varieties

#bored #survey #questions #quiz

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