#i wish i knew programing and could create a script to do this for me

[rosalesbeausderholle]

"I'm doing important historical labor" I tell myself through gritted teeth "This is not just for my PhD, I'm preserving historical artifacts for the future" I click another link on the Library of Congress, I download yet another PDF, they're fucking neverending

[thatchickcanwrite]

I’m writing this so there’s some kind of record in case I die. When I die, maybe. The longer this has gone on the more inevitable that has felt. I don’t know why this is happening or who is doing it to me. I wish I could point a finger at someone so the cops or whoever finds me after all this is over can get the bastard doing this, but…there’s nothing. Nothing!

I think I’m getting ahead of myself, though.

I’ll start at the beginning.

No one gets regular mail anymore. Everything is done through email or DMs. I mean, people still get junk mail and stuff, but not like mail-mail. I think that’s what made me so curious when I got the first envelope.

It didn’t have my address on it, or any stamps, or even a return address. Just my name written in a tidy script in the very center of the white rectangle. It wasn’t a legal envelope—more like the kind birthday cards come in. I don’t know why, but at the time it unnerved me. It wasn’t anywhere near my birthday, and the handwriting didn’t look like anyone’s I knew.

The envelope isn’t what’s important, though. I mean, it kind of is, but what was inside the envelope was more important.

The flap was tucked into the envelope, unsealed. When I opened it, two Polaroid pictures spilled out into my hand, one after the other in an eager cascade. If I didn’t know better, I would have said they jumped out of the envelope.

Curious and more confused by the moment, I flipped the pictures over.

The first one looked like something out of a horror movie. It showed a large concrete (or what I assumed was concrete) room. Concrete walls, floor, ceiling. In the center of the room was a hooded lamp hanging down over a person, naked, and tied to a chair. They were slumped forward, body weight straining against the ropes that bound them to the non-descript metal chair.

I blinked down at the thing, confused and more than a little worried. I had no idea why someone would send this to me. The shadows in the picture were too thick to make out the person’s face. I wondered if it was someone I knew, if this was supposed to be some kind of ransom demand, but there was no note accompanying the photos. My heart was already hammering as I looked at the other photo, hoping to find answers.

Instead, I found a picture of my face.

There, in halide and plastic, was my fucking face.

A pit opened up in my stomach as I stared down at it and my brain went blank. It refused to comprehend what was in front of it. In the photo, a gloved hand held a fistful of my hair, yanking it backward so my limp head rose enough to make me recognizable. My features were slack, like I was half-asleep or maybe drugged. I looked back to the gloved hand, but the wrist and arm were both covered by the sleeve of a sweater, making any guess as to who they were impossible.

It felt like the air had been punched out of me. I realized I was shaking, but couldn’t bring myself to look away from the half-lidded eyes—my eyes—in the picture.

I thought it had to be Photoshop—what else could it be?—but how do you Photoshop a Polaroid? It was one thing to create a Polaroid effect in the program, but that didn’t mean you could create a physical one. I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know much about photo editing, but I supposed it was possible to Photoshop something like this and then take a picture with the Polaroids. But I couldn’t see anything in the pictures to indicate they weren’t legitimate. Either way, I couldn’t stomach whatever sick joke someone was trying to play.

I tossed the photos in the trash, and tried to put it from my mind.

And before you ask: yes, I thought about going to the police, but I didn’t think they would do anything. Technically speaking, no crime had been committed so even if I insisted on making a report, and even if I could convince them to dust for fingerprints or whatever cops do, I had little confidence that whatever this was wouldn’t be filed away and never see the light of day again. And, I guess, part of me just wanted to forget about it. Can you blame me? Those pictures freaked me out and I just wanted to pretend it never happened.

A week later, thought, there was another envelope in my mailbox. Same nondescript white envelope, unsealed, with my name written in unfamiliar, tidy handwriting.

My first instinct was to toss it into the trash without looking at the contents. No way in hell did I want to see more freaky pictures made to look like I was being held captive or…or worse.

To this day, I wish I had listened to my gut and thrown the envelope away—better yet, I wish I had burned it.

But I didn’t.

I can’t explain it. Even if I was a better wordsmith, I don’t think I could put into words the compulsion I had to open that envelope. It would be easier, even, to say that it was as if I was possessed—that it wasn’t really me unfurling the flap that had been tucked into the stiff white paper backing, or like I was being controlled when I pulled the next two photos out of the sheaf. But none of that is true. It was me. I did those things and I will never—never—stop regretting that I did.

Like last time, there were a pair of Polaroid pictures in the envelope.

But the images were…not like last time.

It was still my face in the images, and as best I could tell they—I?—was still in the concrete room. The same black-gloved hand had a grip on my hair, but this time…

(Jesus fucking Christ even just typing the words is hard; my hands are shaking just remembering it)

This time it looked as if I had been beaten bloody. The face—my face—was beaten almost beyond recognition. The only thing I had to really indicate that it was still me was the bone-deep feeling of recognition I had with the person in the image. My lips were swollen, bleeding from a split in the corner of the bottom lip. Bruises darkened my face, a cut on one cheek bone indicated where I’d been hit especially hard, and the eye on that side looked swollen and bloodied. Blood dribbled from my hairline and ran in rivulets down the side of my face.

Just looking at the picture made me feel like I needed to bolt. I wasn’t sure where I would go or for how long, but the need to get out of my home and go somewhere—anywhere else—was intense. But how could I go? I had no way of knowing who was doing this. They could be anyone I spoke to on the street. Someone I knew. A stranger. Where could I even go that would be safe?

I fought to control my breathing as I paced in my kitchen, needing to move my body before I screamed. It took all of my willpower just to stay indoors instead of running out into the streets and just run, run, run.

Finally, I looked at the other image.

A second hand had entered the frame, wearing black gloves like the first one and holding a pair of pliers. The rusted metal tips were inside my mouth, clamped onto a bloodied tooth already halfway out of a socket. My face was still swollen and beaten, lips stretched wide in a silent scream that I could all but hear. Tears made clean streaks through the rivers of blood on my face.

I remembering swearing over and over, my spine slick with sweat as I looked at the image over and over, trying to discern anything that could help me find out who was sending these fucked up images and why, but there was nothing. It felt like there was too much air in my little kitchen and yet I couldn’t get any of it into my lungs.

That was the first time I’d had a panic attack.

I didn’t know what it was until my friends found me a short time later, huddled in a corner and hyperventilating. In full honesty, the rest of that night was a blur. I remember my friends helping me drink water, trying to talk me down from whatever ledge they thought I’d climbed to. Despite my fears and uncertainties of who could be sending the pictures, I made the choice to trust them. Desperate for someone to see what I was seeing and help me figure out what to do or who to talk to, I tried to show them the Polaroids, but when they looked at the pictures, there was only a square of darkness, as if whoever had taken the picture had left the lens cap on.

The pictures were gone.

And yeah, I get the whole ‘pics or it didn’t happen’ thing. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to convince my friends or the police without proof. The next time the envelope showed up, I tried to take pictures with my phone. The one after that, I tried to record a video. It didn’t matter. No matter what I did, the files were corrupted, unusable, or gone. Just gone. Deleted themselves so thoroughly I couldn’t even dig them out of the trash folder in my phone gallery.

At that point, I thought I’d lost my mind. I couldn’t think of a single logical reason why or how this was happening. Not for the Polaroids, or why no one else could see them, or what was going on with the digital files. None of it.

Meanwhile, the images in the Polaroids were getting…worse.

A sick feeling rolled in my stomach daily. As much as I wanted to believe these were some kind of deep fake, there was something about it that felt so undeniably real. It got to a point where I couldn’t go out to my mailbox without the anxiety forcing me to empty the contents of my stomach. I had to wait until someone came to visit and ask if they could get my mail for me. And there was always an envelope along with whatever junk or bills that had been piling up. Every. Single. Time.

The stress made my life impossible. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t go to work. I couldn’t even leave the house most days. If I did, there was always the chance that my tormentor could find me and make good on all the threats they’d been sending me. At that point, that was all I could think of those Polaroids as: promises of violence.

Even now, I feel like I’m marching toward an inevitable pain. A future filled with only pain and suffering and that no matter what I do, there’s no stopping it. Only delaying it.

But I digress.

One of my friends said I needed to get help. Maybe I should have listened to them back then, but I was convinced that if I couldn’t get proof of the pictures themselves, then I would get proof of whoever was putting the envelopes in my mailbox. I figured I could at least that that to the police.

I ordered one of those self-installation security systems—the one with the off-brand Ring doorbell, cameras on my front door, mail box, etc. I even bought extra locks for my doors and windows. I spent the rest of the day setting up and testing my new security system. By the end of it, I felt pretty proud of myself. I was certain I was going to catch whoever was doing this and could turn them into the cops and all of this would just be a big bad dream. But I was wrong.

Sure enough, the security system picked up on movement around midnight that night. The new motion sensor light on the porch sprang to life, illuminating a figure wearing a dark hoodie. I jolted as fear struck me like lightning. They were tall, wide, imposing. They seemed impossibly large. Unavoidable. Undeniable.

I was watching them through the lens of a camera with two locked doors between us, and yet I felt as small and vulnerable as if they were in the room with me at that moment.

My eyes roamed the figure over and over, trying to find some kind of distinguishing features, but they angled themselves so the light shone from behind them. They became a dark silhouette—a shadow of death.

They stood there, still and stone for what seemed like hours. Even with the video on fast-forward, they hardly even swayed. Near 3AM, they turned, very slowly, toward the camera as though they knew exactly where to look for it. With agonizing slowness, they reached a gloved hand into their pocket and pulled out three polaroid photos. The camera refocused as the figure brought the pictures closer to the lens.

The first picture showed me duct tapped to the same chair with the figure standing behind me. Instead of pliers, they held a knife. The figure on my screen held up the second photo. In one hand they held the knife. In the other, an ear.

I wanted to look away, wanted to delete the video and crawl deep, deep under the covers of my bed, but I couldn’t move. I was transfixed at a cellular level as the figure showed the third picture. The same bloodied knife hovered over the image of my downcast head. For a moment, I thought all that had changed between photos was the position of my head, but I soon realized something else had changed. The ear in the hooded figure's hand...it was the other ear.

My hands were shaking as I watched the figure pull the photo away from the lens. They dropped them onto the doorstep and walked away into the night.

I was practically soiling my pants but I took the security footage down to the police. When I pulled it up to show them…you guessed it. The file was corrupted and unusable. The police told me that without evidence or a suspect, they couldn’t even make a report. Useless bastards. No wonder people don’t like cops! I was basically trapped in my house, terrified, at my absolute wit’s end, and they couldn’t even make a report?!

Anyway, like I said at the beginning, I’m writing all of this in the inevitability of my death.

It’s been a few weeks since I was able to capture that first video, and my large friend has been on my doorstep every night. They don’t always have pictures. Sometimes they just stand there, staring at the camera lens as if they can see through it and into my eyes. My soul?

On the nights when they do have photos, they’re…I can’t even say. Each one is worse than the last, detailing my slow and steady dismemberment.

I can’t explain why, but I know that once the photos finally detail my death, that this figure is going to come for me. It isn’t going to matter how many locks I have on my doors, or how many weapons I horde in order to protect myself. It’s going to get in here and it’s going to take me and it’s going to do to me every single thing that happened in those pictures.

I still don’t know how or why this is happening, only that I can’t avoid it any longer.

I’m scared. God, I’m so fucking scared, but I don’t know what else I can do. If there’s even anything that can be done.

My friends have given up on me and I don’t have any family. Not even a pet. I’m alone. Just like in those photos. So, if you’re reading this, know that they’re my last words. I needed someone else—anyone else—to know what happened to me. I don’t know if you’ll believe a word of it, but if nothing else, can you do me a favor? Remember me. Please. I’m so alone and so afraid and I know that eventually I’m going to disappear. I just don’t want to be forgotten, too.

[helltechnicality]

at least with the newer model they were willing to pay out for an adult model. edwin had always found the child model meant most did not see him for the professional he was. then again he did deviate and fail his programmed mission so perhaps the form made some weird sense. the thirium couldn't be taken from him nor could he be taken away. charles needed him. and he could run very quickly. one of the benefits to his programming. a faster movement speed.

he slips the blood inside his coat pocket. step one complete. now, to buy enough time to figure out an escape plan.

it never gets any easier watching an android be unable to see past their programming. their set script keeping them tethered to a company who would replace the other the moment he became obsolete. they all had a timeline and the rk-800 would not be the best out there soon enough.

his eyebrows furrow a little in annoyance. the stupid mission. the murder of their brothers and sisters. " is there truly anything deviant about taking blood for androids who require it? " a dangerous question to be sure. it would show he knew where other androids were but also see if the deviancy had started to affect the so called deviant hunter.

one step forward, one step back. it has been a long time since edwin had stood in the shoes of the other. the android chasing down the deviant. now better than ever he understood the fear he had placed in his victims. " cyberlife will destroy me the moment you return me to them. they care not for the life they create but their precious profit margins. there is little money to be made in slavery. " he cannot turn back now.

" have you ever talked properly to a deviant? tried to understand what has occurred instead of blindly following your programming? i used to be you. i know what they want. what they wish. we are the monsters androids whisper about in the shadows, rk-800. i woke up. it's only a matter of time before you do. "

This is a waste of Connor's time.

While the RK800's predecessor may be... problematic, considering the circumstances, Connor doesn't see how this pertains to his mission. Stealing Thirium might be a priority for CyberLife executives, but it hardly has anything to do with the deviated androids' plans. At least not as far as Connor can conclude.

Then again, perhaps this model has been sent out to collect Thirium for the androids. Perhaps it knows where they are. The odds of that, as far as Connor can calculate them, however, are rather slim.

The LED affixed to the RK800's temple flickers yellow for just a moment at the other android's words. He doesn't exactly disagree, which is... mildly concerning. He schedules a self-diagnostic for later ( just to make sure everything is in working order, of course ) and his LED resettles to a calm, solid blue.

Social programming tilts his head to one side, a slight smile pulling at his mouth. It's an expression of mild condescension. Somewhat unkind, though not entirely hostile. ❝ Any deviant activity is relevant to my current case, no matter how insignificant it may seem. ❞ He doesn't believe the words even as he says them.

Why does he even feel the need to justify his actions?

❝ Besides, ❞ he starts, straightening himself again as he takes a slow, measured step towards the younger other android, ❝ CyberLife would prefer not to have one of their defunct prototypes free to wander the streets as a deviant. You can understand that, can't you? ❞

[synstoria]

Could I ask how you started working on a VN? Like did you already have people in your circle who knew how to program a game, write a script etc. Or did you seek them out somehow? I really want to do my own but I have basically no art friends, I’m the only artistic one and no one else knows coding and stuff, any advice? Thank you!

Hey, I understand your frustration and the best piece of advice I can give you is : pay someone, work on what you can and people will come on board. If you want to create a game, it’s likely you have your own set of skill already, so start by this and go as far as you can on your own. People need to believe in your project, to see how serious you are about it and the best way of achieving this is to progress on it. The most you can do by yourself, the more you will have to show off to hype other people!

Then you have to network: find dev place, offer recruitment, join a game jam… The VN/otome dev community is super friendly and helpful, I have found many support and the team of Imperial Grace along the way.

I also think that free assets are under-used, for Anoldor I was so focus into the idea that I had to create a thing from scratch, I didn’t even look for them, but there is so much beautiful sprite, music and background out there! You can also get assets for a small price compared to what they are worth when commissioned. (For example, I am absolutely in love with this pack I bought recently: https://nimphradora.itch.io/painted-backgrounds)

To answer your first question, when I started my first project (Anoldor), I was alone and my only skill was the writing so I started with it. I plotted, I outlined, and I started to network to find an artist to go on board with me. I took many “no” and a lot of my post were left unanswered until I was introduced by an acquaintance to a talented and volunteer artist who liked the first draft of the story I had written. I looked for a programmer for a year without success, so I decided to take this on my own hand, and I learn how to use Renpy (it’s not so complicated to get the basics, I really think it has a nice progressing curve, and the community is so helpful!). Then, I started posting screenshot, and snippet asking for people to join as proofreader/translator/musician and other people came on board. I had my team!

For Imperial Grace, it was much more easy to find a team since I had money to pay the lead artist (it solves many problems :p), the other members of the team are all people I know from my first project (either they were on it like Jiro or I meet them in the dev sphere like Edhie), the only people I had to find was the musician, I contacted him myself with a prototype of the project and he was hype enough to join.

It's just my experience, but I hope it helps you a bit!

Creating a game is hard, harder than we think before we start, even if you think you are aware of the difficulty, trust me, you are not. I think jam are super useful in these regards; I wish I didn’t burn this step with Anoldor. Having a crash test is super important! But, to end on a more positive not, even if it is time-consuming and challenging, it’s also so rewarding! Working with several people in a common purpose, receiving the comments of other people who like your work too... It’s worth it. 😊

[skdubbs]

Let Love Find You

Chapter 1: An Awkward Introduction

Summary: Love has a funny way of finding you when you’re not looking for it. Commander Fox discovered this the hard way when a box arrived on base and pique his interest. 

Here it is. I can’t believe I'm finally doing this. A huge huge HUGE shoutout and thank you to @detroitbydark​ for all of the encouragement, feedback, and listening to my ramblings about this story. You’re the best. 

This story will be the first in a collection of three interconnected stories taking place at the same time. I hope you all enjoy! 

It all started with a box.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard stared at the parcel currently sitting on his desk amidst piles of carefully cataloged holopads. The contents of said package laid innocently next to the box. He’d had part of it scanned and tested, twice. Absolutely nothing alarming to be found. And yet Fox was still unsettled.

In the year since taking up his post, he’d never been rendered speechless. Well, today the boys could mark it down in the books. Truly, the commander didn’t know what to say. Or think. Or do. The mental conundrum Fox found himself in was beyond exasperating. Sighing, Fox shook his head, then glanced at the flimsi note he held. Once more, he read the delicately written script.

To: Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard

Dear Sir,

I’m sure this package and its contents might cause alarm and confusion. Please don’t allow it to do either. This is simply a token to express my thanks to the troopers involved with the skirmish in the market district on Level 3 nearly four rotations ago. Their actions saved my life and that of my daughter. When we expressed our gratitude, my daughter felt the shock trooper didn’t think we were sincere. Hence, this small gift. I ask that you please see to it that the troopers involved receive this token and understand how grateful we were for their timely arrival. For there are citizens on this planet who are aware of the services the Guard provides to ensure our continued safety and peace. Thank you for your help in this matter.

Sincerely,

Arissa Blunt

Fox knew without looking it up what skirmish Ms. Blunt referred to, as well as the troopers involved. Reach’s report had made mention of the two citizens he’d pulled away from the fire fight, a young woman and child. Interestingly enough, Fox had also heard through the guard barrack’s grapevine that Reach spent most of that night crowing about a civvie thanking him and how pretty she’d been. According to Reach, her body was a man’s wet dream.

At the time Fox had scoffed and pushed the matter out of his mind. He had far more important matters to contend with than one of his trooper’s infatuations. All of the men would have one at some point or other. It was a natural result with overexposure to civilians after a lifetime of social isolation. Fox was one of the few he knew to never fall to such an affliction. That didn’t mean he hadn’t dabbled and explored his options. The commander had simply never experienced the magic of someone capturing his attention for more than a moment of a little physical pleasure. Until now.

Commander Fox was intrigued, all because of a box of homemade ginger spice cookies, a short note, and an infatuated trooper’s embellished description. Again, Fox sighed. Maker, he needed a drink. And it wasn’t even 1200 yet.

He commed Captain Stone, the squad leader there on the day in question.

“This is Stone,” came the greeting.

“Captain, round up the troopers involved in the skirmish on Level 3, I’m sure you remember the one,” Fox instructed. “They’ve got a gift waiting for them in my office. Apparently Reach’s story wasn’t completely fabricated.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. It was brief, but Fox knew it for what it was. Shock. “Right away, sir,” Stone replied.

Fox disconnected, then turned to inspect the baked goods still sitting on his desk. Ginger spice cookies. Homemade, no less. Damn, they smelled good.

Fox smirked. What the men didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He plucked one cookie from the pile, taking a small bite to test the flavor. A groan of delight broke past his lips. This was one of the best frekkin’ things he’d ever had the pleasure of eating, and that's saying something. After all, the position of Commander of the Coruscant Guard afforded certain luxuries and privileges that few other clones were allowed.

The commander took another bite, savoring the taste. What he wouldn’t give to have something this good to eat every day. His eyes found the note again, sitting on his desk in stark contrast to everything else. Arissa Blunt. One has to wonder what kind of woman she was. Fox had every intention of finding out.

-----

After giving the boys their gift (the looks of shock and delight on their faces had caused a grin on his), Fox decided to investigate. It took little effort to find the information he needed. Another perk to his position.

Arissa Blunt, single human female aged 22 standard years. Currently a member of the Republic military’s research and development division located here on base. His brows had raised at that. He merely needed to leave his office and walk across the facility in order to find her. Her focus was prototype military-grade weapons. So, she worked on creating better ways for his brothers on the front to do their job. While he didn’t know her, Fox felt a swell of appreciation for this woman.

He was shocked and intrigued to find she held her position with no formal training. Instead, Ms. Blunt came into the program through the recommendation of a member of the board. It was highly irregular. Perhaps some nepotism was involved? But that made no sense either. According to her file, Ms. Blunt had no living relatives, only a young daughter named Gemma. Cute name, he’d thought.

Out of curiosity, Fox looked her up too. Gemma Blunt, single human female aged 5 standard years. Currently enrolled on scholarship at a school for gifted young children located noooo in a more well-to-do area of the upper levels. So, the kid was smart.

A part of Fox was impressed. And even more intrigued, especially as he gazed at Ms. Blunt’s photo. Reach hadn’t exaggerated, she was quite pretty. Not in the glamour model sort of way. But you could see the potential lying underneath her cute veneer should she ever try to be one. And those eyes….well, they’d surprised him too. Most humans didn’t have violet colored eyes, at least not naturally. But on her they were stunning. They drew you in and spoke volumes. As if the secrets they held were more than just her own. She could know yours without you evening realizing. A fanciful thought perhaps, but there all the same.

And that is why Commander Fox found himself making the long trek to the R&D division on base a few hours later. Amazingly, he had an hour free. Plenty of time to pay Ms. Blunt a visit. He could convey the men’s appreciation and slake his curiosity.

He’d found a technician by the name of A’tron Rogers when he arrived. The man had the audacity to scoff at him when he stated who he was looking for. Fox wisely kept his helmet on, knowing full well what kind of person he was dealing with. It was rather obvious what Mr. Rogers thought of clones and about doing anything for them. One had to wonder why he was in a position that required him to help create weapons that helped said clones.

“Yeah, she’s back here,” he’d snapped. “Follow me.”

Resisting the urge to call the man on his insubordination, Fox followed. They made their way further back into the lab and came to a stop at what looked to be some kind of long range canon. However, the weapon wasn’t what caught Fox’s attention.

Fox froze, his brain gone blank. Before his eyes, bent over at just the right angle, was perhaps the most perfectly shaped ass he’d ever seen. His mouth watered while his blood rushed south. Mentally, he cursed. This was not a good way to start an introduction.

“Blunt!” Rogers practically screeched, trying to get the technician's attention. It certainly did the trick, albeit in a painful way. Arissa’s head shot up, caught by surprise, only to have it collide with the paneling of the prototype she’d been working on. A string of low muttered curses followed the loud clang. Fox winced in sympathy.

After a moment or two, Arissa straightened, seemed to take a steadying breath, then turned to face them. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second when they landed on him. However, she recovered quickly, her face becoming unreadable as she turned to her coworker.

Fox wished he could say the same. That beautiful shebs he’d been staring at not long ago should have warned him at what else he’d see. Because, by the maker, Reach hadn’t exaggerated. Not one bit. Arissa Blunt truly was a man’s wet dream. Her hair was up and covered, but he didn’t need to see the dark brown wavy locks again to know how it finished the masterpiece that stood before him. Even wearing coveralls covered in grease splotches couldn’t detract from that hourglass figure or the small waist. And her breasts. By Fett, they were a handful and more. So much more. Again, Fox was grateful he’d chosen to keep his bucket on. He’d have looked like a gaping fool otherwise.

Arissa addressed Rogers, her voice even and devoid of emotion. “Did you need something, Rogers?”

The shorter man huffed, obviously put out by her lack of response to him. Fox made a mental note of that. Maybe it wasn’t just clones the man had a problem with. “You’ve got a visitor. Commander Fox here needs to speak with you.”

The technician’s gaze swung over to him, that violet gaze holding him captive. Again, he noticed a moment of trepidation, as if she feared his presence. Fox scowled, annoyance flaring. Her reaction was classic for a citizen. They either looked at him and his brothers with fear or disdain. He wasn’t sure which pissed him off more.

“I see,” she replied. “Well, I’m due a fifteen anyway. If you need me, we’ll be in the conference room.”

Rogers snorted, then left. Yup, that chakaaryc really didn’t like Arissa Blunt. Fox focused his attention on the woman before him. As he looked closer, her nerves became more obvious. What did she have to be nervous about?

“Ms. Blunt,” he greeted, his voice stiff and formal.

“Commander Fox,” she greeted in return. Grabbing a rag, she wiped her hands off, then motioned for him to follow her. “Whatever you need to tell me, it’d be best said in the conference room. Otherwise, everyone else in the department will know about it before the end of the day. You wouldn’t think it, but the lot here are as bad as a bunch of gossiping housewives.”

Nodding, he followed. As they left the lab and made their way down the hallway, Fox couldn’t help his eyes from looking. The sway of those hips were going to haunt him. Another curse ran through his mind.

Soon enough they reached their destination, Arissa gesturing him inside. He took up a position further in, standing at attention while he waited for her to shut the door.

“Would you rather sit, Commander?”

“No thank you, miss. But please don’t stand on my account. Have a seat.”

He patiently waited while Arissa got comfortable. Once she seemed settled, he dove right in. “I assume you know why I’m here?”

That flash of trepidation was back. It was gone immediately, but still, he saw it.

“I think so,” she quietly answered. Her tongue came out to wet her lips. Despite himself, Fox felt a knee jerk reaction to the tiny movement. Maker, this needed to stop. Now.  

“Then explain yourself,” he ordered.

That got her attention. Arissa straightened, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Explain myself? I thought the note I left was pretty self-explanatory.”

“Perhaps,” he hedged. “However, your reaction to my appearance here would say otherwise. I thought you appreciated what the guard does for the citizens of Coruscant. Someone who is appreciative doesn’t respond with fear in their eyes.”

Arissa’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in anger. However, when she next spoke, her voice remained even. “From my point of view, your sudden appearance here is rather suspect. Troopers, let alone commanders, don’t make random visits to this part of the base. Any fear you saw was my worry that I’d done something wrong.”

That made Fox pause, considering. Her words in the note had sounded sincere. And someone who feared or hated clones wouldn't have sent something in the first place, not without it having some sort of repercussion. Perhaps she had a point. Finally, Fox relaxed his stance.

“I suppose your reaction would make sense then,” he conceded. “I apologize for alarming you, Ms. Blunt.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, you couldn’t have known. I’m sorry I gave you the impression I was like all those ungrateful idiots out there.”

Fox stared at her. Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. Apparently Ms.Blunt lived up to her name. He cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, would you mind explaining to me why you felt the need to do such a thing?”

Arissa started fiddling with a loose thread of her coveralls. A nervous tick. “I already told you in the note I sent with the package. My daughter thought the trooper who helped us didn’t believe we meant what we said. I was helping to make him see otherwise.”

A scoff escaped him. “Forgive my own cynicism then. I’m used to people having ulterior motives. It’s my job to find them.” He shrugged. “So, it’s a little hard to believe there wasn’t something else behind your actions, appreciated as they are.”

While he knew he was being something of a di’kut, Fox needed to know. He wasn’t lying. Any civilian he’d ever met had some sort of ulterior motive, most often to the detriment of his men.

She didn’t speak for a while, sitting there in quiet contemplation. Then, those violet orbs caught the gaze of his visor and held it. She wanted to get this right, he realized. She wanted him to believe her. “Maybe because men who didn’t have a choice in choosing this life deserve something good once in a while.”

Speechless, that’s what he was. She said it so plainly and without artifice. Fox knew she meant it, every word.

“I see,” he replied, voice quiet and low. “Well, allow me to express my gratitude and that of my men. It may not seem like much, but those sweets were the first gift any of those men have ever received. It might be the only one.”

“You’re very welcome, Commander Fox.” Her voice was quiet too, her eyes soft and understanding. How Fox wished he could get lost in them for more than just a few minutes. It was time to go. Now.

“You’ll excuse me then, Ms. Blunt, for taking up your time. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll see myself out.” Fox made to do just that, not leaving her a chance to say anything in return. He was almost to the door when-----

“Commander, could I ask a favor?”

Fox stopped, then looked over his shoulder. Here it comes. “What is it?”

Arissa gulped, her nerves showing once more. Fox smirked. Already in such a short amount of time, Fox knew he’d enjoy setting her on edge on a regular basis. It was a shame their paths likely wouldn’t cross again.

“I know this may seem silly, but would you be willing to write a short note to my daughter? I know it’d mean the world to her to hear how much the troopers that helped us enjoyed the cookies.”

“Can’t you just tell her?”

“I could,” she allowed. “But she might think I’m lying. Sometimes she has a hard time believing things if she doesn’t have evidence. Finding out you came to tell me yourself just how much the gift was appreciated will be suspect without some kind of proof.”

“Is your daughter really that cynical?”

Arissa laughed, shaking her head. Fox had to admit she had a lovely laugh. Fett, he was going soft. “No, not cynical, commander. Just a child who needs encouragement that something is real when she’s had so many other disappointments.”

While Fox was curious as to what she meant by that statement, he didn’t ask. Honestly, what was the harm in writing the kid something? There was none. Besides, he was more than happy to do it.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.”

The smile she gave him made an answering one pull at his lips. Thankfully, his helmet hid the sight. Yeah, this was definitely not good.

------

“Mommy! You’re home!” Gemma squealed in happiness as Arissa stepped through the door. Arissa was barely inside before her five-year-old daughter wrapped her tiny arms around her torso and squeezed.

Arissa paused, soaking the moment in. A smile pulled at her lips while the hint of tears teased her eyes. This right here made everything worth it. The ridiculously long days. The demeaning remarks and catty behavior from her coworkers. This was her why, the reason she kept putting up with everything.

She wrapped her arms around Gemma and squeezed back. “Hello to you too, Gemma. Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” Gemma pulled back, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing in her excitement. “Did you miss me?”

Arissa chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Yes, sweetie.”

“Welcome home, Arissa. Long day?”

Arissa glanced up, making eye contact with the teenager lounging on the lumpy pale green couch in the apartment space that served as a living room. She barely withheld a grimace, thinking back over her day. “Just the usual, Trix.”

Although it really hadn’t been. Not when a certain unsettling clone commander decided to pop in and pay an unexpected visit. Gods, she’d thought for a moment there she’d done something wrong, that somehow the gift Gemma had practically begged her to make was illegal. Panic had filled Arissa, assuming the worst. But then he’d thanked her. Thanked her. Like a box of ginger spice cookies was the best gift his men had ever received. That wasn’t really too far off the mark, though, was it? And that black visor. When he’d held her gaze, Arissa had felt as if she were naked. She couldn’t remember anyone ever making her fell that way. Definitely not something one wants to feel upon meeting a commanding officer of the GAR. 

Shaking her head, Arissa focused back in on the present. “Did the two of you eat yet?”

Trix suddenly appeared uncomfortable, a look of guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah, we did. I, um, thought it’d be nice to treat Gemma to something. We went to Dex’s Diner and had the works. Saved some for you, too.”

While she knew why Trix might feel guilty, Arissa couldn’t fault the teenager for spending the money instead of eating the leftovers in the fridge. A year of being homeless and dodging traffickers and drug dealers had done a number on Trix. The kid’s useless father had abandoned her just days after her mother passed away. And the lower levels of Coruscant were not kind to the young and innocent. Arissa knew this fact quite well. Trix was finally getting back on her feet, working at a local bakery to make some money while attending school at night to finish her primary education. She lived in the third bedroom and watched Gemma when Arissa had to work late. And Trix positively adored her. So if Trix wanted to spoil Gemma with a night of burgers and shakes, Arissa wasn’t going to complain. She was far too grateful for the help to even think of chastising the teenager for splurging.

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Thanks for thinking of me,” She smiled at Trix, hoping the teenager understood she wasn’t mad. “I can’t remember the last time I had Dex’s. Is it as good as I remember?”

Gemma giggled. “Even better! Oh, and we got to meet Dex. Did you know he’s a besalisk? I’ve never seen one before. He answered all my questions, too. Didn’t act like I was a bother or anything.”

“Of course he wouldn’t. Because he realized right away what a bright and inquisitive mind you have, sweetie.” Arissa’s heart warmed at the kindness the diner owner had unknowingly extended her daughter. Gemma truly was inquisitive, wanting to know anything and everything. And amazingly she remembered it all. However, there were some people who found the girl’s nearly constant questions an annoyance and something to discourage. It was why she’d done so poorly in school until transferring into a private academy. Thank the maker for that scholarship. She bent over and lifted Gemma up, holding the young girl as she made her way to their small kitchen table. “Now spill. How was your day?”

Asking Gemma that question was all the kiddo needed to start regaling her mother with the events of the day. Arissa listened attentively as she went about putting her dinner together. She laughed when Gemma explained how a boy in her class had water come out of his nose during lunch and praised her when told how she’d received perfect marks on yesterday’s exam. Trix stayed with them for a while, interjecting comments here and there before retreating to her room to start on her school work. They wished the sixteen-year-old good night as mother and daughter both knew they likely wouldn’t see the teenager again until morning. Arissa was done with her dinner and working on a mostly thawed nerf milkshake by the time Gemma asked how her day went.

Arissa had thought long and hard how she wanted to present her surprise. She pulled the note from her back pocket and slid it across the table’s surface. “I had an unexpected visitor today. He asked me to give you this.”

Curious, Gemma carefully unfolded the note. Even at such a young age she handled everything with a great deal of care. Violet eyes scanned the note, then widened in shock. When Gemma finally looked back up she was smiling from ear to ear. “He wrote a note. He really wrote a thank you note!”

The smile breaking across Arissa’s face almost hurt. Seeing her daughter’s happiness at something so small was beyond precious. Mentally, she filed the image away to remember when the moody teenager years hit. “I was told not to read it. That it was top secret until your eyes saw what was inside. Think you could read it to me?”

Gemma nodded enthusiastically.

“It says: Dear Miss Gemma. Thank you for the lovely gift of ginger spiced cookies. I have shared your present with the troopers involved in the skirmish four rotations ago in the market. They were very surprised and grateful for your thoughtfulness. They rarely get a thank you for their work. Your mother tells me you are a bright student and love to learn new things. Did you know that members of the guard love uj cake? I highly recommend trying it. Please continue to do your part as a good and loyal citizen of the Republic.

Sincerely,

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”

The excitement radiating off of Gemma was contagious. She truly was happy from Commander Fox’s words. Arissa sent a silent thank you to the commander for taking the time to fulfil her request. Maybe she could find a way to let him know how much his note meant. But he must be very busy. Why would he care about any of this?

If he didn’t care, why would he bother in the first place? He could have said no.

“Do you think I could write a reply, mommy?” Gemma asked. “Maybe we could make them some uj cake since they like it so much and leave a note with it like before.”

That made Arissa pause. “Perhaps. But don’t you think the rest of the guard might get jealous when only a few of them get to have some?”

Gemma’s brow furrowed as she contemplated that possibility. “I guess you’re right. I know I wouldn’t like it if only a few of my classmates kept getting something and I didn’t.” Then her face brightened. “Maybe we could make some for everyone! That way no one felt left out. Oh but,” Gemma frowned as she realized something. “That wouldn’t work either. There’s so many of them, aren't there?”

Arissa hmmed, feeling her heart squeeze with regret as her daughter’s face fell. For someone so young, she truly had a compassionate and giving nature. She wanted everyone to be happy. “I’m not sure how many there are, but yes, there are a lot of men in the guard. Far too many for us to make enough for everyone. I’m sorry sweetie.”

The evening wore on, the hours passing as the world outside transitioned from day to night. Despite her disappointment, Gemma managed to recover. They played a few games, took care of Gemma’s bath, and cuddled on the couch to watch a silly holomovie before Arissa announced it was time for bed. Arissa read a story of her daughter’s choosing, sang her a song, and kissed her good night. Once Arissa left the room, she’d make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a book, losing herself in the passionate romance of her current novel before heading to bed as well. It was like so many other night’s, this ritual their evenings had become. But tonight would be different.

“Mommy?”

Arissa paused, turning back to face her daughter. Only the top of her head and her eyes were visible above the fuzzy purple comforter she’d cocooned into. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Will you please tell Commander Fox thank you for writing me that note? I really did like it. And I think he’d like to know that, too.”

The breath whooshed out of Arissa’s lungs. She hadn’t expected this. But how could she refuse? “Of course, Gemma. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Now, get some sleep. You have a big day at school in the morning.”

“Can you make rainbow berry pancakes for breakfast?”

Arissa couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, Gemma’s tone was just too hopeful. “I think I can manage that. Now, sleep little one.”

Gemma giggled, happy at her mother’s answer. “Okay, okay. Good night, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gemma.”

Arissa closed the door and made her way to the kitchen. She tinkered around the small space, getting things ready for the morning while her tea water boiled, then steeped. Once finished, she grabbed the old and worn romance novel off her caf table, the flimsi pages yellowed with age. She happily made herself comfortable on the couch as she dove into the world of high passion…..

Five minutes later, Arissa was back in the kitchen, a notepad open to a clean page while her holopad came to life. She scrubbed a hand over her face, sighing. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” As soon as the piece of technology was up and running, she began bringing up Republic military records, trying to get an accurate head count of how many men filled the ranks of the Coruscant Guard.

------

Now, while Arissa was toiling away at the kitchen table trying to work out a plan to fulfill her daughter’s wish, said daughter was busy working on another matter instead of sleeping.

Gemma waited for her holopad to boot up, reading the note from Commander Fox almost obsessively. She’d never thought in a million years her mother would come home with any kind of news about the gift she’d begged her to make. Instead, she’d brought home a note. A note! Gemma very quietly giggled, pressing her face into her pillow to better muffle the noise. She was in the next star system from how happy that little piece of flimsi had made her. The five-year-old sent a desperate plea to the gods, asking them for the chance to meet this Commander Fox. Yes, she’d asked her mom to thank him, but she wanted the chance to tell him herself how much his note meant to her. And she wanted to show him just how much she could learn when she set her mind to it.  

Finally the holopad came on and Gemma brought up a search engine. Adults were always so surprised when they saw how well she could navigate tech at her age. For whatever reason, it was astonishing. Gemma didn’t pretend to understand why. Carefully, she typed in uj cake, then hit search. She skimmed over a promising article. It did sound rather yummy. Perhaps she could convince her mom to help her make some after school tomorrow and she could share it with the class. The kids would probably like that. Maybe it’d help her make a few friends.

The article said the recipe came from Mandalore. Intrigued, Gemma decided to search the planet, not knowing what she was getting herself into. What she read fascinated her. Hours went by and Gemma refused to sleep, far too invested in learning more about this old creed of warriors. She had only nodded off when her mother came to wake her, far earlier than usual.

Gemma’s groggy eyes met her mother’s. “What is it, mommy? Is something wrong?”

Arissa shook her head, a hint of mischief lighting her eyes. “No, sweetie. I just needed your help with something. How would you like to help me make some uj cake this morning? I think a certain clone commander would appreciate it.”

It took a moment for Gemma’s sleepy brain to understand exactly what her mother was saying. When she did, she shot out of bed so fast she almost knocked her mother over. Excitement took care of the exhaustion she’d felt just moments ago.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then dashed out the door to the kitchen, her mother’s laughter following after her.

What neither realized then was how their actions that morning would come to shape the rest of their lives.....and those throughout the galaxy.

[snowbellewells]

Do as the Romans Do

A @captainswanmoviemarathon​ fic by @snowbellewells​

((((I made a first attempt at creating my own fic art, but for whatever reason, I can’t get it to post in my story. It’s on my page, but for whatever reason, I can’t get them both in one!)))

Hello there! Welcome to my little Roman Holiday-inspired AU for the @captainswanmoviemarathon! There were some scenes from the original movie that I was simply too enamored with not to include, so those I am sure you’ll recognize those, but I’ve also let this version of Killian and Emma wander off on their own when they wish to change the script a bit. I’m envisioning this being about three parts - today’s shorter introduction to set the scene, a larger part two with the bulk of the plot, and then a shorter conclusion to wrap things up. We’ll see how it goes (or if it grows on me beyond that!)  Please enjoy, and I’d love to hear what you think…

Part One

                                           *Press Release*

From the Royal Italian Embassy this 4th of September, 1953, Princess Emma Ruth Nolan, Crown Princess of the small nation of Misthavia, only child of Queen Margaret Mary Blanchard-Nolan and King Consort David Nolan visits us here in Rome for a brief stop on her first solo goodwill tour. 

Already, she has made stops in Copenhagen, Prague, Vienna, and Geneva, and will attend a state dinner, tour local businesses, preside over a medal ceremony, christen the children’s wing of a hospital, and hold a press conference in her three days here before heading on to Paris and London to complete her journey across Europe. Lucky indeed are those who have an invite to one of these events and will have a chance to meet the Princess in person!

The receiving line outside the embassy dining room had long since passed from lengthy to trying and on to interminable as Emma prayed her empty stomach would not begin to grumble aloud before she was finally able to find a seat at the head table and at last enjoy the hard-earned meal. As always seemed to be the case at these formal events, meeting “just a select few” somehow turned into glad-handing with a neverending line of people she would never remember or hope to keep straight from one another. 

To think she had initially been excited about this particular event! At least she had thought there might be the chance for some entertainment and dancing after dinner. Now that she stood in one place for so long, she was regretting the posh new heels she had paired with her full-skirted ballgown for the occasion. If she ever got to move from her spot again, Emma was not at all sure that her feet would actually support forward motion any longer; they might well be broken inside the three-inch heels.

Hoping to do so without being noticed, Emma stealthily shifted most of her weight onto one foot, lifting the other slightly beneath her skirts and flexing her toes in the hope of bringing feeling back to the extremities. She bobbled a bit, but thankfully her press secretary, and closest friend since nursery school, child of palace staff or not, was standing beside her. Surreptitiously, Emma caught Ashley’s arm to steady herself. The other blonde made no comment, merely offered a reassuring sidelong glance and tiny smile without the disapproval that Emma knew she would have received from the Countess on her other side - a retired former nun who had been her main chaperone and minder of all the etiquette and behavior since Emma’s first official public appearance years go.  The Princess could practically see the woman’s pinched disapproving mouth, admonishing eyes and warning tone - even in Mistress Blue’s absence.

The end of the receiving line was at last in sight, and Emma let out a breath that she hoped went unnoticed, trying as hard as she could not to let her eyes roll back in her head at the momentary relief she had gained for her aching feet. Intending to put the first one back into its pretty little torture device and flex the other similarly, she continued blindly offering her hand to the passing dignitaries, murmuring greetings and shifting to her other side gingerly.

Unfortunately, just as her foot returned to its shoe, a flashbulb went off unexpectedly and much closer than any had been so far.  She blinked, momentarily blinded, and her balance wobbled; the hidden empty shoe tipped over on its side before she could slip her toes back into it. This made her dip unexpectedly to the left, and she felt herself falling, despite all her natural grace and her practiced poise. Cheeks already flushing, Emma’s tongue was too tangle to call out, knowing her one bare foot and her impatient lack of polish was about to be exposed before she even hit the floor. A gasp escaped Ashley on her other side as she realized too late what was happening and tried to catch Emma’s hand, but instead, what arrested her fall was the interception of two warm, firm hands at her elbows, halting the topple which had seemed inevitable only seconds ago.

Suddenly braced by the solid forearms in a lean, handsomely suited man standing there before her, Emma blinked, reorienting herself to the fact that he’d spared her a rather embarrassing incident, she wouldn’t be humiliated on all the gossip shows that evening.

“Th - Thank you, Sir,” she breathed tremulously, quickly fishing her toes into her shoe and righting it at last before straightening and looking up to meet her rescuer’s eyes.

Bright, crystal blue met her inquisitive green as she did so, a twinkling of mischief enlivened his expression even further against the heavy dark brows and the rather rakish appeal of his unshaven cheeks and jaw. For a moment, the breath nearly rushed from Princess Emma’s lungs again - for a completely different reason.

A gentle chuckle rumbled from this undeniably handsome stranger’s chest as he dipped his chin in the slightest of acknowledging bows. “Think nothing of it, your Majesty. I’m simply glad I was here.”

She nodded in mute agreement, wincing again at how she’d nearly made herself a laughingstock. It was one of the things she hated most about her life as a monarch - one silly mistake, unimportant in the grand scheme of things, could undo or overshadow so much good, so much hard work in a mere instant.

With a rather devilish wink, the man before her, bowed his head over her hand, now more delicately cradled in his own larger one and place and brazen kiss to the back of it, his whiskers prickling her skin and sending tingles all along her nerve endings. “After all, it isn’t every day one finds a princess in his debt,” he murmured silkily.

She blushed brighter, knowing they were beginning to hold up the line and draw curious attention now, but not wanting him to move on. “Is that so?” she replied with equally humored stealth.

“Indeed.” He sketched on more quick bow, then added, “Killian Jones, at your service, Princess.  And if you are safely in your shoes once more, I suppose I must be going now.”

Her eyes widened even as her fingers released their grip, and he slipped on through the line, while she extended her hand to shake those of the last few people behind him. He had known what happened all the time! Why did that make her heart beat even faster than it had been already?

~~~*

That night, after a long bath, with her hair brushed, nightgown donned, and her legs tucked under the blankets, Princess Emma still felt her fingers tingling from the remembered grip of Jones’ hand, even as she listened to the Countess’ long list of the next day’s engagements. Emma tried not to shudder as she noticed that once again nearly every moment was spoken for, every word and action, and even thought, seemed already determined for her. That near-fall and the following encounter had been the most excitement she could remember in her meticulously programmed, rote, respectable, predictable life of duty.

What would it be like to simply walk out of such an event, as Jones and all the other attendees had done, and have it simply be over? To return to a normal life? To determine what one wanted to do for oneself, and have no watching eyes to judge or weight the following movements. She could hardly imagine such freedom.

When Emma was finally left alone for the night, she knew she needed to sleep. According to the schedule that had just been droned into her ear, she had an early morning before her. Yet, sleep felt the furthest thing from her mind. Eventually, she threw the covers off and hopped back out of bed, crossing the sumptuous room provided to her by her Roman hosts and gazing out the window to the River Tiber below in the distance. Music and lights reached out to her beguilingly despite the hour, and she wished she could be in the midst of whatever celebration was happening there, a part of the laughter and dancing and raucous joy she could only imagine from the echoes that reached her.

It was not an unprecedented longing, but one that struck her more acutely than ever this night. She was going to have this experience while she had the chance. Mind made up as abruptly as the moment presented itself, Emma flew from the window to her suitcase, quickly shedding her nightgown and putting on her most understated skirt, blouse, and espadrilles. With hardly a look back, shew as soon perched on the window ledge, preparing to climb down the fire escape of the old, sturdy building she was staying in without risk of alerting any of her numerous attendants and guardians.

‘Just one day to herself, to live as she chose,’ Emma vowed, closing her eyes for a moment and then surging forward. ‘Then it’s back to what’s expected, what I’ve always known will be my life…’

As she reached the ground and then slipped through the embassy gates out into the night air and the excitement of a foreign city, Princess Emma Ruth Nolan felt like someone else entirely. Like someone who could breath freely for the first time in her life.

Tagging: @captainswanmoviemarathon​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @jennjenn615​ @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @laschatzi​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @stahlop​ @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @thislassishooked​ @shireness-says​ @thisonesatellite​

[holisticalecsecareanu]

This interview by ERA News Beta speaks to Alec about a varied number of subjects to do with his film casting and debut in GOC, but farther than that, Alec speaks in great detail about his journey in Romanian theatre,  his views on the state of Romanian theatre today,  his acting philosophy.

I found this an incredibly revelatory article about Alec because you don’t fully realize, until an interview like this,  the depth and breadth, not only of his intelligence, but of his strong beliefs and views regarding his chosen profession. It’s very different going from little snippets in interviews where Alec discusses mostly just one project, to this really comprehensive presentation of who he is as a person and an actor. Also, obviously being able to discuss such complex subjects in his native language, I believe, really allows him to open up more comfortably.

He has a -LOT- of strong feelings and responses to the questions the interviewer asks and he expresses them eloquently, intelligently, and also pretty bluntly, sometimes. It shifted, a little, and not in a bad way, who he is in my head, or rather, it fleshed out who he is in a way that all the quick sound bites and magazine interviews don’t.

I know, from this, that he will never strop striving to push himself and his abilities, to discover new and different ways to learn in his craft. This interview also goes a long way towards explaining how Josh, Francis, and he,  formed such a bond, because I believe they also hold these beliefs and commitments to the roles they take on and the projects invest in. It’s almost like kismet because what are the odds that these three individuals would have the same kind of approach to the story they were telling? I think that is why God’s Own Country is such a superlative and luminous film.

Also, the Fight Club production sounds KICK ASS and I wish I had seen it and I can’t believe someone didn’t tape it!

And, yes, that photo, because it never, never ceases to rock every aspect of my world.

This interview is in Romanian but, at least on Google, there is a Google translate button that appears. I have also provided the Google translated version below; am not able to vouch for it’s accuracy, but at least it is something!

Thank you if you’ve read this far. :-D

Google Translation of Interview Below. : 

The first British film brings a London agent to Alec Secăreanu

There is also news that one of the young aspirants managed a movie in Hollywood, and for a second people hold their breath, dismayed, wondering "what the hell is this?", Before the engines start again. and to see life beyond its course - Radu Iacoban once said to me, referring to an entire generation, actors who are making their way to a glory that neither they nor we know much about yet . It could have the American endorsement or the greatness of the European trophies, in any case it will no longer be possible to rely on the applause of those who built their illusions in the theaters where they were taken by force or on the admiration of those who dreamed of the two hours of the program. television of yesteryear.

Alec Secăreanu is not one of the 10-15 actors who appear constantly in the distribution of each of the films of the new wave, fueling the impression that only a few people have managed to finish the theater institute in Romania lately. But it has the merit of entering Tyler Durden's mind. And to enter Tyler Durden's mind is courage, especially since it is a dark mind, split into two completely separate universes, and in each of them reigns revolt in all its forms, revolt against the system, against consumer society, against to an absent father and, therefore, against God himself. It's an even greater courage to do this after a perfect director has already passed by, who explored his corners, in tandem with an iconic actor.

The first six rounds of Fight Club demonstrations were, at the end of last year, an absolute success in Bucharest, so the complete version follows, with sophisticated projections made by Les Ateliers Nomades - the company that made the famous mapping on the Parliament Palace - and imagined stunt figures under the guidance of experts from the Gladiator Association, which works in the good tradition of its illustrious founder, Szobi Csech. It's like we lost sleep. Anyway, Tyler Durden doesn't sleep either… Alec Secăreanu certainly sleeps quite a bit himself, since in the meantime he finished filming the first feature film in which he took the lead role, a kind of Brokeback Mountain with a farmer from Romania, the debut film of the British director Francis Lee.

There were nine weeks of filming in Yorkshire, enduring the "bipolar weather" of England, during which time he learned, among other things, to cut the hooves of cattle, to make cheese, to witness the birth of lambs. Oleacă already knew from the Fight Club. And in few percussions I surpass him, after Alexandrul Dabija's Requiem, from the National Theater in Bucharest. In addition to stories about the British system, a show business performance machine, news about new theatrical productions in Bucharest or evaluations of Romanian theater in general, from Alec Secăreanu I found out that there is an online radio that takes you far, Nice Cream FM , and something even more interesting, that there is Radiooooo, with five "o's", which allows you to choose from the map of the world what kind of music you want, in decades, from the beginning of the twentieth century to the present. «You can understand your decade and your country and listen to, say, Mongolian music from the '60s. It's something like Wikipedia, users are still uploading music, so they've already reached an impressive database, "says Alec.

Rep: Actors of your generation make most of the film and most make film outside. Ana Ularu, Iacoban, Bucur… a long series in which you have just been included, in the most honorable way, with a British production, a kind of Brokeback Montain as far as I understand, a love story that happens on a farm and involves a character born in Romania

Alec Secăreanu: The first feature film in which I had the main role, "God's Own Country" is Francis Lee's debut film. I really wanted a Romanian for the role, because the character in this story is Romanian, and the director wanted everything to be as authentic and organic as possible. Of course, the character has only a line or two in Romanian, not at all significant, by the way, for the story, so they could take absolutely any other actor who speaks English with an accent. But he wanted everything to be organic. The casting director from Romania gave more than 40 rehearsals and, a few weeks later, the director came to Bucharest and wanted to meet about 13 of us, a group from which he chose three actors. The three were in London for a final test, a so-called chemistry test with the other actor, the one who had already taken the role.

YOU HAVE TO HAVE EXTREMELY STRONG NERVES THOUGH, ESPECIALLY WHEN THE STAKES ARE HIGH. PROBABLY THE FIRST THING YOU NEED TO GET USED TO AS AN ACTOR IS TO BE REJECTED. YOU GO TO DOZENS OF CASTINGS, TO HUNDREDS OF CASTINGS, YOU GET FIVE OR TEN PERCENT OF THEM, TO THE OTHERS YOU ARE REJECTED AND, MOST OF THE TIME, IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT.

 They are simply looking for something else, the sooner you understand this system, the better. To keep your lucidity and show signs of mental health. And you have every reason to protect your health, since, in the end, the tool you work with is yourself and, if you break this tool or if it is defective, it no longer serves you properly. My character's name is Gheorghe Ionescu, he is a young Romanian farmer who went to work in England, who ends up working somewhere, in an isolated complex in Yorkshire, and there he meets a guy, the boy of the farm owners. An unexpected meeting for both of them, surprising, a friendship and a fascination are linked and the two end up living a love story, although neither of them identifies as a gay person. In fact, the film does not want to be a gay movie, but, rather, a story about people, a plea that some encounters are love. A very interesting creative connection was created between me, my colleague, Josh O'Connor, the director Francis Lee and Joshua, our operator.

We had two weeks of rehearsals, in which we discussed very well each stage of the script, each sequence, what happens to the characters, the history of each of them. When I started working, everyone in the frame knew what to do. I filmed a lot of exteriors, on which occasion I got to know very well the weather in England, which is dementia, you

have four seasons in one day, it starts with snow, followed by a storm, then hail, then the sun rises, then again it snows a little and so on. In fact, the weather was a real problem at the connections, because I was starting a frame in the sun and when I resumed it, it was snowing outside, so things didn't fit.

THE TWO WEEKS OF REHEARSALS HELPED ME BUILD THE CHARACTER, BECAUSE I HAD TO WORK ON THE FARM, I LEARNED TO WORK WITH COWS, SHEEP, TO WITNESS THE BIRTH OF LAMBS, TO CUT THE HOOVES OF CATTLE, TO MAKE CHEESE , LOTS OF THINGS. IF THIS THING WITH ACTING DOESN'T WORK… I LEARNED SOME EXTREMELY USEFUL THINGS, WHAT CAN I SAY.

Rep: I understand that the benefits were even greater, you chose an invitation to the British actors' union and a London agent…

Alec Secăreanu: I had the opportunity, for nine weeks, to work in a healthy system from the ground up, starting from the way the union works, to the fact that the actors from the British schools learn notions of personal discipline from college, in a broader framework for the management of the profession. I was treated as a member of their union. A month and a half after I finished filming, my agent received an email from the union asking if I had been paid for the work done, so that the warranty that had been withheld from the producers at the time could be released. in which they announced the film. What can I say… welcome to Romania!

I told them that I am not part of this union, they told me that such a contract in the UK guarantees me these rights and allows me to become a member. I'll be back on the 20th for a series of meetings, and we'll probably finish the talks on this occasion. In the meantime, I also have an agent in London, in addition to those who represent me in Romania. I started the relationship with my agent from Romania, Alexandru Harsany, from RAA (Romanian Artists Agency), two years ago, when I was just returning from Venice, where I stayed for about three months, at the Art Biennale, where I was a performer in an installation built by Alexandra Pirici. Alexandra…, a perfect artist… two days ago completed a performance that will be presented at the Tate, in London…

Returning to my professional path, my stake, I once told my agent, is to work abroad, because in the country, unfortunately, you have nothing to do. You just have nothing to do. Seven to eight films are made a year, which usually have the same cast. In fact, if you look at Romanian films from the last ten years, you might get the impression that only 15 actors have graduated from the University of Romania lately. Beyond this shortcoming, there is no market, the options are few, I do not understand how many of my colleagues manage. Well, I'm in this situation too. Outside, once you have a major project, some doors open, everything goes on.

HERE, I HAVE COLLEAGUES THAT PEOPLE RECOGNIZE ON THE STREET, BY SUBWAY AND BY BUS, WHERE THEY ARE MAINLY BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE TAXI MONEY. IT'S FRUSTRATING.

I worked with my agent in Romania, I updated my casting photos every six months, which means to make available to potential producers a picture of the state, in which you must be relaxed, not to frown and to highlights your features as best you can. We have updated, to the necessary standards, the video materials or CV presentations, ie that series of things without which you have nothing to look for at the door of a casting director or an agent. While filming in England, the producers there issued a press release announcing that they were filming and that they had a certain distribution. At time number two, Alexandru's mail exploded, hundreds of requests, questions and offers came, sent by casting directors, agents, an entire machine was set in motion.

During the filming in London, I had five days off at one point, and the producers arranged for me to meet with some other directors, agencies, to see how things worked. They are somehow looking for unpolished stones, hoping to find the next great talent. We don't have this culture. I know only one casting agent who goes to shows or to UNATC, to see new faces, and that is Domnica Cârciumaru. The others always work with the same people, and that's especially because they don't know other people, they don't look to see what actors there are on the market, they don't care. Romanian agencies do not have casting databases, for example.

There are real platforms out there for that. Our casting directors work from project to project. 'What I need, a 40-year-old woman. Where else have I had a 40-year-old woman? Aha, in the gum commercial. Well, let's call that one too - that's how things work. In London I had meetings with three agencies and I opted for a rather large one, The Independent, which deals not only with actors, but also with directors, screenwriters, a total of about a thousand people. I liked that it works as a boutique agency, they have 40 agents, every week they meet and discuss the projects that are on the market and to which they have access and then they try to promote the people they represent. In addition, this agency is open to the States. We will see…

Rep: Returning closer to home, you have a few shows in Bucharest, including Fight Club, one of the revelations of last season. The first six rounds of Fight Club demonstrations were an absolute success, so the full version follows… 

Alec Secăreanu: In addition to the most recent premiere, Fight Club, we have an extraordinary show at Godot, «Flowers, Girls, Movies or Boys», which we have been playing for ten years with great success. It is one of the first texts written by Mimi Brănescu, he being a basic actor, but lately he has reshaped himself on dramaturgy and screenwriting. A show about relationships, which follows the evolution of two couples, from the moment when future lovers know each other, until a little later, when they may lose love. It's a good, funny text, it catches the audience very well. I'm one of those lovers, a filthy neighborhood wannabe, the kind who feels like he knows them all, and obviously he's not.

His evolution is very interesting, he hits a person he underestimates, in any case he did not expect to have such an impact on him. The girl is from another social class and this very conflict between social classes arouses him and makes him get closer. In time, however, the two realize that they do not have much in common.

I KNOW, I KNOW, THERE'S A THEORY THAT OPPOSITES WOULD BE DRAWN, BUT THEY'RE MOST LIKELY DRAWN TO THE POINT WHERE THEY REALLY HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON. THEY MAY NOT EVEN MEET AT ALL, AND THAT'S THE STRANGENESS OF THE COUPLE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT.

I have another show at the National Theater, Requiem, directed by Alexandru Dabija, entered the seasons last year, things are going well. We expected him to be selected in the National Theater Festival, but it seems that was not the case. It is a text Vişniec, first placed in Romania, with references to an area that seems to be of great interest to Dabija now, more precisely the area of ​​war, the world of soldiers. Vişniec was also interested in this form in one form or another, if we think of "The Woman as a Battlefield in the Bosnian War".

most spectacular staging of this text. There was another show, once in France, he told me that he had seen it, but that it is much more extravagant. Dabija thought of an image show, there are costumes, there is scenery, there are quite a few actors on stage, about 20, some of them employees of TNB, most of them - collaborators. It is sung, it is sung beautifully, the music is by Ada Milea, some songs are really very nice, it is a kind of music specific to the instruments with which it is played: an accordion, a big drum - where I play… We have some marches and various others pieces that lead to the military music area.

I play the role of a soldier who still believes in victory. The story takes place in a cafe Chez Vişniec, a place where soldiers meet who are preparing to return home, who dream of the triumphant march and the glory of reception in their cities. All sorts of people gather at this cafe, some who have never believed in victory, others who have believed, there are some who still believe that victory is possible - all sorts of psychologists synthesized from this theater of war.

What did not delight me about this text is the fact that the characters do not have an evolution from one end of the show to the other. A logic does not have to exist, it is an area of ​​the theater that Vişniec has accustomed us to, but the characters, although very vehement, with a very strong speech, were suitable for a well-deserved development.

Rep: Do you believe in victory? Or have you not fought your big battles so far?

Alec Secăreanu: No, the great battles did not take place. But we started with a few fights, some of which we lost, others we won, others are still contested. I lost, for example, the struggle with the idealism I had at the end of college. I was very disappointed when I finished college, very disappointed… I had high expectations from the Romanian theater market, I hoped to have a vision, a coherence, a general enthusiasm. Of course, everyone wants to be part, at some point, of a movement that means something. I'm still part of the independent theater area, so I never relied on the state theater to do anything for me.

BY THE WAY, I THINK THAT THE STATE THEATER HAS ENTERED A KIND OF SHADOW CONE, IN THE SENSE THAT, AT LEAST THAT IS MY IMPRESSION, IT HAS BECOME MANNERIST, IT HAS NO IMAGINATION, IT HAS STUCK IN SOME RECIPES THAT SEEM TO WORK AND, WITH FEW EXCEPTIONS, NO ONE SEEMS WILLING TO DEVELOP NEW THEATRICAL EXPRESSIONS.

And in the latter case, the high hopes and high expectations were primarily for them, because they manage the funds needed to do that. Every year they have to put on a number of shows and I look in amazement that they are not trying to discover anything, they are systematically going to areas where they have been before, they only walk on dirt paths. It's not the commercial that has to bring the world to the theater. There may be a commercial area, but I think it is our duty, of artists, actors, directors, to push the boundaries a little, to invent new ways.

But the independent theater is currently identifying itself as an area of ​​precarious means. You do shows that catch the audience - logically, otherwise you can't finance yourself, the setting is, most often, modest, consisting of two chairs and a table - since there is no money for something more sophisticated, the costumes are also as they are - most often the actors come with their clothes from home. It's a poor theater, let's face it. If you try to look for what is happening in the independent theater, the first time you notice the lack of funds, and you notice it as a spectator and it would not be your job as a spectator to see things like that. It can be seen that the director made a kind of compromise with the money to make this show. While in the state theater a lot of funds are lost.

There are exceptions, of course, but my huge frustration is that you see shows with extraordinary budgets and you don't understand why the money went for such a show, which doesn't bring anything new. While in the independent theater there are so many ideas and so much desire to work, but there is no funding for their realization. I was really talking to someone the other day, because we're looking for funding for Fight Club, and I was asked, okay, beyond funding, what's the business? Let's get along, we're talking about an art form, and monetizing art in this brutal way is harder to imagine, because our stake is to try to develop new theatrical languages, we need grants, state aid, maybe even the private area, the effort is not made for a show to be sold like this, to fill the halls.

If you want that, you have a party, you call the world, you play a few more instruments, you say three more poems and that was it. Either way you want to go, the discussion inevitably reaches the area of ​​the diseased system, which you have little to do, except to try to build it from scratch.

I have a cultural association with some colleagues. We realized in 2007, when we finished the University, that there is no point in hoping, that we will not receive any kind of help from the theaters, where even now the places are blocked.

I WOULDN'T SAY THEY AVOID YOUNG PEOPLE, BUT RATHER THAT THEY ARE WARMER WITHOUT US. THERE ARE A LOT OF EMPLOYEES IN THEATERS WHO DO NOTHING, BUT KEEP THE SEATS BLOCKED, TWO OR THREE SEATS APPEAR ONCE EVERY THREE YEARS.

IT'S A KIND OF SLAVERY, PEOPLE WORK IN A WELL-GROUNDED SYSTEM, WHICH NO ONE REALLY WANTS TO CHANGE.

In fact, the same situation is in every state institution, many people who receive a meaningless salary. And these are not theater companies, to say that they are families, but they are state institutions, financed from the budget. One is an independent, self-financing theater company and theoretically is allowed to do whatever it wants with its money, and another is a budget-funded theater, obliged to function for the public and to educate it, to arouse it, to motivate it. . If you put the same pieces of Caragiale and Chekhov every year, and only that, and only that…

Rep: There are all kinds of public calls lately for the elimination from the scene - from various scenes - of the generation we call, coded, "golden", as we saw calls of some intermediate generations, I would not know how to define them , to finance somewhat less intellectual productions, which have at least some connection with the public. Where is the truth? And with the golden generation, what should be done, ideally, from the point of view of the new wave you represent?

Alex Secăreanu: Who else is today a consumer of magazine theater, for example? They are nostalgic, and they know where to find their shows, and they somehow look for them by virtue of inertia. I have no problem taking care of established actors. I appreciate them as history and there are some from which I had a lot to learn, because they are better than me. Victor Rebengiuc, for example, with whom I worked for a short film called Casting Call, written and directed by Conrad Mericoffer, is a man from whom I learned a lot. The story follows an elderly actor, who is called to a casting, but it is not necessarily about the elderly actor, but a generic meditation on the condition of the actor, because we are all, in fact, in the same situation. I played, Paul Ipate, Victor Rebengiuc and Sergiu Costache.

I learned a lot in the short time I spent with Rebengiuc, how to behave in a team, how to approach a role…

IT'S LIKE CHESS. IF YOU PLAY WITH SOMEONE WHO IS BETTER THAN YOU, YOU LEARN FROM HIM. IT'S NICE TO HAVE SOMEONE BETTER BEAT YOU, BECAUSE YOU LEARN FROM HIM.

There are cases, however, in which it would be in the best interest of the actors in question to give up, as is the case of Radu Beligan, for whom I have a huge respect, but who has advanced a lot in age, goes through natural stages of life, to simply remember the lines, it is simply no longer possible. What we want from this story is already doing him a disservice. It's just an example. With reconfigurations and reinventions it is harder… but actors like Victor Rebengiuc and Marcel Iureș believe that they went in different ways from the very beginning, they wanted more than they were offered and they looked for more.

In this profession you never stop searching, because as soon as you get the impression that you know them all, you enter a very dangerous area, an area where you don't come up with anything new, and the viewer feels that. You have to surprise him, he has to see you doing something new, otherwise there is no stake.

Rep: Fight Club… You were able to get into Tyler Durden's mind, a courage, probably, after his twisted imagination was once explored by David Fincher, with the iconic film released in 1999. What you found there ?

Alex Secăreanu: Fight Club… is a story that, for me, started many years ago. I read Chuck Palahniuk's book in 2006 and I thought that this book must be a theater show. The idea bothered me for many years, until last year, when the stars lined up, I said it would be time to do it, especially since I found an exceptional team. We developed ideas, we had a lot of meetings in which we kept challenging the imagination, to see where the story can take us, and finally we were ready to put everything into practice. Sure, we hit the funding. Arcubul financed us for the show, which is a complex one, with multimedia elements, videomapping, fight scenes, music,

It was a test for us first of all, to see if our ideas work, if the team works. After the first six rounds, we realized that we are on a very good road, which must be continued. We can bring new elements to the theater, we can develop new languages ​​in the theater, we wanted from the beginning to make an experience for the spectator, a one hundred percent experience made for him. We wanted the spectator, when he left the theater, to feel that he had received a punch in the stomach. We got pretty close to the goal, all the people said, after the show, that they lived that thing that we felt when we were little and we watched a karate movie, and after the movie you wanted to jump around the house, to give more and you a fist, try another scheme.

He left absolutely no one regardless of this show, which is very important. We need some more money to set it up the way we thought it would. The amount is not large for a state theater, but huge for an independent theater. About 60,000 euros. Usually, in the independent theater you say, come on, how much do we have, 5,000 euros? Let's do it, we come home with more clothes, we cut another set, we give up that one, the other one and we did the show. When you have thought of an artistic approach in a coherent way, you cannot make concessions like this. You can not. There are elements, means that you absolutely need to build your convention fluently, to say what you wanted to say.

THERE ARE ALSO PRODUCTIONS AT TNB OF ONE MILLION EUROS, APUS DE SOARE, THIS ONE FROM TEN YEARS AGO OR WHEN IT WAS MADE, TWO SEASONS WERE ALSO PLAYED AT REVEDERE.

There is also a record amount for a show that has never been played before. I don't know how much the funding was, but let's remember that in the year of Caragiale, a theater wanted to do D'ale Carnavalului somewhere, at the Metrorex Halls. They equipped a hall with bombers, cars, an entire fair built from scratch, and the show was never done again

[berrydoodleoo]

Thancred/Reader wip

I’ve been curious about visual novels for a while. None of the ones I’ve read ever really grabbed me in a fannish way, although they were enjoyable enough. I’ve toyed with the thought of using a visual novel for my own original story (assuming I ever write the thing some day) and it seems like creating a small fanVN would be a good way to get familiar with the whole thing.

All of which means -- I’m writing a VN! I’ve always wished we could talk to Thancred more in the Amh Araeng quests (and maybe deliver a spanking), or at least give poor Ryne a hug. So I grabbed the dialogue from the scenes and I’ve been working on putting together a script.

Naturally it has spiraled wildly out of control. It’s about 7000 words long (including the game dialogue) and still has more to go. And then I have to put together the images and do the programming ... although I suspect that will be the easiest part ...

Anyway here’s a snippet. Tell me what you think? Or if there’s something you want to see?

WoL: [When Thancred speaks again, it isn't about anything you were expecting.]

Thancred: You may not remember this about our Minfilia... But prior to founding the Path of the Twelve, long before the Scions, she was something of a miner.

Thancred: Back in those days, I spent most of my time in the Quicksand or some other tavern, loosening tongues and gathering secrets. Occasionally, I'd catch a glimpse of her in the street, on her way home after another hard day's work.

Thancred: I always felt a wave of relief when I saw she'd come back safe ... along with a pang of guilt at the fact I wasn't there to support her as I should've been.

[choice 1]

- WoL: [Try to encourage him to think about his choices.] What was missing? What would you have done differently?

-- Thancred: Simply speaking with her more than once in a blue moon would've been a good start, but I could never seem to bring myself to do it.

-- Thancred: She was always happy to see me, but a little confused. Wondering why it was I had dropped back into her life this time.

-- Thancred: I always had some excuse handy -- the Imperials, the Echo, F'lhaminn's famous beauty. None of them were entirely true. I wonder if she ever knew....

[choice 2]

-  WoL: [Encourage him to be kinder to himself.] You were barely more than a kid yourself, back then.

-- Thancred: Yes. An obnoxious kid, but yes.

-- Thancred: I spent so long throwing myself into my “work” and becoming every drunkard's best friend. I always thought I would have a little more time....

[return to main]

Thancred: But that was a lifetime ago. Here and now I have another chance to do things right, and I will not squander it again.

[pitayatea]

Talk is Jericho: The Emancipation of Jon Moxley

(i highly recommend listening to the episode if you have time, its a great listen and it goes a lot into jons thought process behind his leaving and the timeline from august until he left. if you dont have time or just want a rundown before you listen to see if youd be interested, i complied a list of points in the episode,,, i guess? idk.)

(none of these are in order im horrible at listing things but all of this was discussed at some point):

- mox started the podcast saying he harbors no ill will for wwe, how grateful he is for the time he spent there, how they helped him grow as a person, etc. he also talks fondly of the make a wish program and the fans and everything.

- there's a good bit of him talking about renee and describing her as his best friend, his soulmate, and how even if they had nothing it was fine bc they had each other. prime otp shit we stan. im sorry i love their relationship.

- jon describes a time where he was approached about a promo describing him doing stupid stuff that an idiot would do (riding a unicycle backwards, sharing pizza with a homeless dude, etc), and asking that it be changed because he doesnt want his character to be seen as an idiot. the line was taken out and readded by vince. when he confronted vince, vince didnt see the issue and described the segment as good shit and thought it described the dean character perfectly, which jon took as being described as an idiot.

- jon hated his heel turn, and defined it as being heavily micromanaged and told numerous stories of fighting with scripts and writers and vince because they wanted to do joke shit that he didnt want to do. he hated the germaphobe angle, he despised the vaccine promo, and it was all stuff pushed by vince.

- he also talks about other promos he hated before his heel turn, and a lot of it started as early as the 2014 feud with seth (the hotdog cart, seth mannequin, etc.)

- i actually remember an older tij episode where he goes into detail about how it was vince who pushed the mannequin thing, and how he once walked into vinces office and found vince sitting in his chair, facing the mannequin, with weapons laid out, verbally describing what he wanted to do to the mannequin... do with that what you will.

- (aka vince is senile which,,, we been knew)

- both of the stories he told are extremely interesting: one describes the time he knew for sure he was gone and started counting the days, and the other describes the time he almost walked out.

- there was numerous lines during his heel turn that he refused to use and demanded to be changed.

- one of which was a joke about a pooper-scooper that got changed to the gas mask line. he describes literally having to go behind vinces back and rushing with writers to get a copy of the script without the joke onto vinces desk before the one with the joke got there because vince wouldve forced him to do it.

- he describes all the promos he did that night as confusing and not telling stories, and remarked that "if we didnt need to run around and try to not look like idiots, we could focus on telling stories", which flustered a writer he was with at the time.

- the writers and jon got a note from vince which stated "dean needs to understand why he needs to insult the audience. dean needs to read his promos verbatim and not try to rewrite them." jon remembers feeling like he got punched in the gut and lashed out in frustration at a writer (in retrospect, he admitted it wasnt the writer's fault and he was just emotional).

- "why do i work here? im a professional wrestler, who can tell stories and come up with promos and i believe i have the ability to talk people into buildings, i learned those skills years ago, and i wanted bring them to the wwe, and you just want me to say your stupid lines. if you want someone to stay your stupid lines, hire an actor because theyll probably do a better job of it than me. im not interested in doing it."

- he spoke frankly about the fact that wwe is a billion dollar company, run by an alleged genius, filled with adults, and they were talking about pooper-scoopers, and how ridiculous it sounds.

- after the pooper-scooper joke was removed, vince took the gas mask comment literally and tried to make jon go out with a surgical match. eventually, it was talked down to the hankerchief that made it into the final cut of the promo.

- vince once mentioned how jon had so much creative license, to which jon remarks: "what creative license? what creative license do I have? i do exactly what you tell me and its terrible crap. thats not creative license."

- he booked it immediately after the show, got into the hotel, and immediately thought (after thinking that he needed a drink) that the entire segment was a waste of time because they got nothing done, and he didnt get why everyone was celebrating afterwards. he remarked that after doing six promos in one night, he couldnt say what the story was, who the characters were, and that the angle was dead, if it wasnt already.

- jericho agreed that the creative process of going through vince is awful and that it burns you out and that, at the end of the night, the match was the easy part.

- jon was never scared of getting fired for being outspoken, because he still did the work. if he couldnt convince vince that it wasnt a good idea, hed go out and try hard to make it good.

- jon woke up to a text from a writer describing the vaccine segment, and he responded that he "fucking hated it" and the writer texted back "yeah, i know".

- by the time he showed up to the building, word had gotten out that he wasnt happy with the vaccine promo. vince knew jon wasnt happy and called him to his office to reassure him that the bit wasnt comedic, and that its good stuff and its well written and would get him so much heat. he explains all of this while laughing, immediately proving that it is comedic, and said there was no props involved, to which jon replied "then whats with the actor we hired to play the doctor or the giant syringe? are those not props?"

- jon was ***EXTREMELY*** uncomfortable making comments about romans leukemia, and didnt even want to say the lines that got on tv, and sounded audibly pissed off when talking about it. when he confronted vince, vince said that roman needs to be in the story, that dean turned on both roman and seth, and that roman is a key part of the story.

- both jericho and jon then talk briefly about the 'vince jedi mind trick', where he makes things seem better than they actually are, and jon fell victim to it in that promo despite considering himself to be immune. he immediately regretted the lines as soon as he said them.

- there was a line in a promo talking about romans cancer that jon refused outright to say, and wouldnt even say it on the episode. all he said is that the wwe wouldve lost sponsors (esp the susan g. komen sponsorship) and someone (likely him) wouldve gotten fired. vince tried to convince him to say the lines but he absolutely refused and it was a matter of "ok i guess youre not comfy bc its roman" and not "its extremely offensive" with vince agreeing to not force the promo. jon then said it wouldnt have mattered to vince anyways bc he wouldnt have been blamed for it, and it wouldve been jon who took all of the heat. he then makes a comment in case whoever was responsible for the promo was listening:

- jons wanted to leave wwe since july 2018, and almost walked out after an episode of raw during his heel turn due to creative frustrations.

- jon wanted to return from injury as a completely new heel character. he brought this up to vince twice - once in february, when they thought hed be cleared for wrestlemania 34, and once in july, before his actual return.

- in february, vince had stated that they could do what jon wanted to do. the story changed by july due to them advertising the shield for the aus super showdown and not wanting to take them off the billing.

- they then wanted him to return as seths buddy in his corner for summerslam. jon wanted to return at summerslam as a surprise, and vince had an original plan for him to show up at the go home show for summerslam and just,,, be there, but agreed to go with jons plan.

- the week of summerslam, a writer contacted jon while he was training with joey mercury and cody hawk in cincinnati that he was, in fact, showing up at the go home show for vinces original plan. essentially, vince lied to him to sedate him because jon says he was extremely outspoken about everything. he managed to talk vince and the writers into putting a little bit of action into the go home show.

- jon hated the line that seth said to announce his return ("since you have a scottish psycopath, i ought to have a lunatic in mine"), which was entirely a line planted by the creative team and wasnt the fault of jon or seth. he felt like it muddled the crowd reaction and the pop bc everyone was reacting in different ways and he thought they shouldve just played the music because "how can you screw that up?"

- hes been creatively frustrated since 2016 on smackdown.

- by the time he left the company, he hated the character of dean ambrose and couldnt look at himself in the mirror.

- they tried burying dean with the nia storyline and squash matches, but fans loved him so much that vince saw dollar signs and pushed for the shield reunion tour. if it wasnt for fans being behind him, jon wouldve been mercilessly buried.

- aew was not his main reason for leaving. originally, he wanted to go back to czw or the indies. he wouldve left the company no matter what - even if no other promotions existed, he wouldve left and created his own promotion.

- jon described feeling severe symptoms of depression during his last few months, to the point where he couldnt motivate himself to get out of bed or go to the gym or do anything. he even looked up symptoms on webMD to confirm what he was feeling - jericho also confirmed it the second jon started talking about it.

- he outright stated that vince and the creative process and the shit vince had built around the wwe since 2002 is killing the company.

- he does not want to compete with wwe, he just wants to try and push them to improve the product and try and get vince to step back slightly and not micromanage so heavily.

- jon only got paid 500 bucks for the shields final chapter special, which is the same price that extras get on main shows and the same price that unused roster members get for just showing up and sitting in catering. jericho then brought up that during a house show street fight between him and ambrose, they both only got paid 750. 500 and 750 are bare minimum prices for just showing up - so they barely got paid for a dangerous gimmick match on a house show.

- jon and cody have been friends since before cody left wwe, and used to sit backstage and watch old wcw matches while getting ready for matches.

- he considers codys experience to be similar to his, and that they both experienced the same frustrations at different times.

- jon and jericho both agree that tony khan (CEO of aew) is the exact opposite of vince, and is a bigger wrestling fan than vince is. jericho then brings up that he doesnt see how vince can be a fan any longer because hes been doing it so long without a break. jon agreed and stated that vince is never gonna retire and is def gonna die in the chair, and how he just needs to step back a little bit.

- jericho brought up how jon broke the internet and jon practically jumped at the chance to tell the story.

- "king of social media, mic drop bitches." that is the line of the century im sorry.

- the inspo for the original mox teaser released on may first was inspired by the first venom teaser trailer.

- double or nothing was already planned to be moxs first appearance when the teaser dropped, and he had to keep it on the dl to make sure no dirtsheets reported it and no one advertised him to be there. he admitted he isnt tech-savvy and everyone who hes friends with who is belong to wwe, and the dude who helped him film the teaser was sick nick mondo.

- the trailer took two days to film and cost eight grand, but jon admits he wanted it to be quality and didnt care.

- while filming the trailer, vince texted him to try and extend his contract for the europe tour bc shield money. his response was that he was committed to a film project, which vince took as him filming a movie and not him filming the trailer.

- jon didnt tweet the trailer, he had a social media expert time it to where it released at exactly midnight through some techno shit with twitter.

- roman and seth knew how unhappy jon was in wwe and they were understandably sad to see him go but they wanted him to be happy.

- he talks about how he told seth he was leaving: seth had responded that he was super bummed out, and jon told him that he "is a wild animal, babe" and has been contained for too long. seth immediately agreed, saying it was the perfect analogy.

- the way he describes it kinda describes seth being more broken about jon leaving than roman, which also correlates with seths responses to questions about him leaving. do with that what you will, shippers.

- from now on, nothing is driven by money for him. everything is driven by trying to be the best he can be. he wants that for everyone: he wants his friends to be the best they can be, he wants his wife to be the best she can be, he wants the fans to be happy and everything, but his happiness is the most important thing.

- he feels more passionate about wrestling now, and describes it as his first love and his only love besides renee. the way he describes it reminds me of cm punk losing his passion due to wwe, and i feel like he wouldve ended up exactly like punk if he stayed any longer.

- his favorite part of the business is promos, and the scripted promos made him loathe it. aew gave him his passion for promos and wrestling back.

- he compares himself to the dentist elf from rudolph. his closing line is "if you're an elf and you wanna be a dentist, be a dentist." jericho edits in an audio clip from rudolph at the end and its great.

- jon is looking forward to working with legitimately everyone in aew and thinks of it as helping draw eyes to the product and to other lesser known talent, similar to jericho.

- he doesnt want a war, no matter how much he jokes about it. he just wants to show vince that the way he runs his show isnt the only way and it definitely isnt the right way.

- jon, speaking directly to vince: "your creative process sucks. fix it."

(i listened to the podcast in full three times, and i repeatedly replayed segments to confirm everything. if i missed something, lmk.)

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 13/?

May I? - 13/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @ geekygwen

Data was able to track Barclay down in Engineering.

"Lieutenant," he said, approaching the man. "Faith and I will be going on an away mission while the Enterprise is docked for repairs. Would you be available to care for Spot while we are gone?"

"I would love to," Barclay said. "Have there been any changes to her routine that I should know about?"

"No, all is as it was the last time. Thank you for your help." Data gave him a nod and turned to go.

"Commander?" Barclay asked.

Data paused and turned back. "Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes. Proceed."

Barclay took a nervous step forward and in a low voice asked, "Are the rumors true? Are you and Faith...in-involved?"

"Yes," Data said, curious about Barclay's tone. "Was there a particular reason you wanted to know?"

"No! No, not at all," Barclay said. "Just curious." He hurried away and Data watched him go, confused.

He stopped by Geordi's office. "I just had the strangest conversation with Lieutenant Barclay," he said. "He inquired about whether or not Faith and I are involved."

Geordi chuckled. "It's the latest gossip," he said, looking up from his work. "And I think Barclay might have had a thing for Faith at some point."

"Ah. I see. Could this be jealousy?" 

"From Reg? Nah. He's not the type." Geordi leaned back in his seat with a grin. "So, are you excited?"

"About what?"

"The mission. You and Faith. Alone. For three days."

"Is there a particular reason why I should be?" Data asked. 

"Data, you both have been working non-stop since you got together. This will actually be the first time you get to spend time alone as a couple."

"Not true," Data corrected. "We spend every evening together after our duties."

Geordi's eyebrows shot up. "Way to brag," he teased.

"I was not bragging. I was stating a fact. And if you are assuming we have intercourse during that time, you are incorrect."

"Have you done anything physical?"

"We have kissed. Faith is uncomfortable with the discussion of sex and as I have no sexual desires of my own, a slow approach is satisfactory."

"Understandable, but even if you aren't intimate, you can still make your time together romantic."

"I created a romance program in the past when Jenna and I were together. I was told it felt forced and scripted."

"That doesn't mean Faith will feel the same way, or that you need to make the same exact program for her."

"Then what would you recommend?"

Geordi thought for a moment. "How about you create a new one?" He suggested. "Instead of focusing on the supposed interaction between couples this time, focus on the actual acts of romance."

"Such as?"

"You know candlelit dinners, soft music, flowers, chocolates," Geordi listed. "Little things that show her you care."

Data began to download the information Geordi suggested. "I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Geordi."

"Anytime, buddy. Have fun."

Data knew Geordi meant well but they were Starfleet officers first, and the mission would need to come before personal matters. Still, there was no harm in using the downtime to get closer to Faith. He had not forgotten their passionate kisses in the turbo-lift, or how Faith's body fit perfectly against his.

He arrived at her quarters to pick her up. She was ready but seemed nervous. Considering this would be her first away mission, he was not surprised. 

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Did you pack your medication?"

"Dr. Crusher gave me a long-lasting dose. I'm good for two weeks."

Data nodded in understanding. He tapped his communicator. "Commander Data to Captain Picard. Lieutenant Diaz and I are on our way to shuttle bay one."

"Acknowledged. I will meet you there shortly. Picard out."

The two left Faith's quarters and headed for the shuttle bay. When they arrived, Data led her to the shuttle they'd be taking. It was small but would suit their needs fine. He stepped on to begin preparations but Faith hung back.

Data paused and turned to look at her. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "No, not really. It's just a big step. I need a minute."

"Take your time." 

Data allowed her to stay behind as he continued with the launch preparations. Eventually, she joined him, carefully stowing her bag in the luggage compartment before sitting in the co-pilot seat.

"It is just like flight training at the Academy," Data said as she looked through the controls.

"I remember. Hated it then too."

Data looked over, noting her rigid posture. He reached out to place a hand on hers, making her pause her work and look at him. "I am here with you. Remember that."

Faith smiled and squeezed his hand. "You're amazing, you know that?"

He smiled back.

Behind them, someone cleared their throat and both turned to see the captain standing there.

"It seems I'm intruding again on another personal moment," he said with the barest hint of a smile.

"Captain!" Data exclaimed as he and Faith both stood dutifully. "I apologize if that was inappropriate."

Picard chuckled. "Mr. Data, comforting your significant other is not inappropriate," he said. "At ease, both of you."

Faith relaxed next to him while Data eased his stance. "We are just about ready to depart, sir," he said.

"Good. We have the last away team's assessment of the ruins but I want you two to search deeper. See if there is anything that was missed. This creature had to come from somewhere."

"Understood, captain."

"While this mission is serious, your safety is more important. Should you encounter that ship again, turn around and return immediately. I also want you to keep in contact with regular subspace communications," Picard ordered. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Faith and Data replied.

Picard gave them a firm nod. "Good. Commander Riker will let you know when you can expect to rendezvous with us once repairs are complete. Good luck."

He left the shuttle and Faith took another deep breath. "Alright," she said, voice sounding stronger. "Let's do this."

They took their seats in the cockpit and began take-off procedures. Data kept an eye on Faith but with each step, she grew more comfortable. Her knowledge of the shuttlecraft was sound and seemed to come back to her after several moments. Eventually, they were clear of the Enterprise and the starbase, soaring through the black vacuum of space.

"It's not so bad once you get used to it," Faith commented, leaning back in her seat. "It's actually pretty peaceful."

"The quiet of the shuttle does offer a level of comfort," he said. "In fact, you should use the time to catch up on your sleep."

"I'm alright for now, but thanks for the suggestion. By the way, has me staying with you been too much? I feel like I'm taking up your evenings and I don't want to cut into your alone time."

"I enjoy your company. I do not mind," Data said, eyes still on the console as he studied the sensors. "Besides, I have alone time when you are asleep. If it becomes an issue, I will say so."

"Okay, good," Faith said with relief. "I like spending evenings with you. It helps me unwind. Though, you don't have to dream on the couch if you don't want to."

At this, Data looked up at her, cocking his eyebrow. "Do you wish to share a bed next time you sleep?"

Faith shrugged her shoulders, appearing calm on the outside. Data still heard her heart racing. "If that's something you're comfortable with, I would be too."

Data had never shared a bed with someone before. It was a human ritual that had eluded him up until that point. The idea that Faith was offering him such an experience was intriguing. 

"When we return I would very much like to try," he said. "I am afraid the bunks here on the shuttle are only large enough for one person."

She smiled that bright smile Data had painted many times during the weeks they had spent together. "It's a date."

He smiled back before returning to his work. The way to the planet seemed to be clear. Data did have to adjust their heading to avoid an unexpected asteroid but other than that, they were in for a routine shuttle ride. 

The silence between them was as comfortable as it always was. It reminded Data of the hours they had spent in Engineering, which they had not been able to do since the creature was found.

After three hours and sixteen minutes, Faith stood from her seat with a stretch.

"I'm going to go rest for a bit," she said, leaning in to kiss Data on the forehead. "Don't work too hard."

"I shall try not to."

She left the cockpit and settled in the back of the shuttle where the sleeping bunks were. Data kept his eyes on the stars ahead but mentally he had formulated a plan for the evening.

One thing he learned from his romance research was the idea of the "romantic" surprise. Since his conversation with Geordi, Data had done a download of romance based on his suggestions. 

Data knew Faith would most likely fall asleep soon. The previous night she had tossed and turned throughout most of the evening. He suspected she was more tired than she realized.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, when Data rose from his seat to check on her, she was fast asleep. He watched her for a moment, before quietly moving into the dining area. 

Once he was there, he got to work setting up the table. While the replicator was not as powerful as the one on the Enterprise, he was able to use what he had.

It did not take long until everything was ready. Data made sure the table was perfect before he went to wake Faith. 

He stopped for a moment to admire her sleeping form again. It was one of the few times she was completely at ease and he enjoyed seeing her body without the tension of anxiety.

Data sat on the edge of her bunk but paused when he felt something under the blanket. He reached beneath him and pulled out a book. It had no words on the cover but when he cracked it open, he realized it was not just any book. 

The first page was a collection of crude, shakey looking drawings. Several were scratched out and it was difficult to decipher what they were meant to be.

Data was curious, but he also understood the need for privacy so he quietly closed the sketchbook and placed it back where he found it. He was proud that Faith was trying something new. With the workload she currently had, she and Data had not had a chance to discuss creative endeavors. It was nice she was exploring them on her own.

"Faith?" Data called in a soft voice as he reached out to take her sleeping hand. "Faith?"

She stirred before her eyes fluttered open. When she saw Data, she gave him a sleepy smile. "Hey, you," she said, voice hoarse. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. Was I out for long?"

"Only thirty-three minutes. I have prepared dinner for you."

Faith sat up, easing her legs over the side of the bunk. "You're too good to me. Just give me a moment to wake up." She yawned and stretched, raising her arms above her head.

Data followed the way her uniform hugged her frame when she moved. Her back arched to an almost obscene degree and he could not help but recall the erotic images he had subjected himself to when trying to elicit an emotional response. 

She sagged with relief and lay her head on his shoulder. "This is nice," she said. "Just the two of us. I know we've barely started the trip but I'm already enjoying the quiet."

"That is unsurprising. You tend to become over-stimulated due to your anxiety. There are fewer stimuli on the shuttle."

"And I get a really handsome android all to myself." She tilted her face up towards his expectedly. 

Data leaned down to place a peck on her lips. "I suggest you eat before we try anything sexual. You will need your energy for such activities."

Faith pulled back, eyebrows raised as she smirked in amusement. "Are you planning on seducing me, Data?" she asked teasingly. 

"I assumed with your flirting and temperature increase you were becoming aroused. I merely stated an observation."

Faith chuckled and got to her feet, pulling him up with her. "Come on, Casanova. Let's have dinner."

Data showed her to the dining area, but before she rounded the corner, he came up behind her and covered her eyes.

"Uh, what are you doing?" she asked.

"I have seen this done when one person is attempting to surprise the other," he said. 

"Wait, you have a surprise for me?"

Data led her forward before dropping his hands from her eyes. She gasped in delight when she saw the table.

He had placed a white blanket over it to act as a tablecloth. Two plates of grilled salmon along with two glasses of wine sat across from each other. Between them, electric candles flickered with fake flames as if they were real. 

"We have not had a proper first date yet," Data said, holding the chair out for her. "Since we are alone, I concluded now would be the ideal time to try again."

Faith took a seat, smiling up at him as he pushed her chair in. "It's wonderful! Thank you! You definitely surprised me."

Data smiled and took the seat across from her. "So, Faith, do you have any siblings?"

She gave him a curious look and chuckled. "That's a random question," she said.

"I am attempting the standard first date inquiries," Data explained. "I have composed a list of fifty-one questions designed to stimulate conversation and help us to become better acquainted."

"Ah, okay. Well, most people start with a few pleasantries first."

"Oh. I see." Data studied her for a moment before leaning on the table towards her. He gave her a wide smirk, quirking his eyebrow. "You are looking exceptionally ravishing this evening via candlelight, my dear."

Faith laughed, though by the way she smiled Data could tell she was pleased, if not highly amused. "Well, thank you," she said. "And may I say, you're the most handsome android I've ever known."

"I am the only android you have ever known."

"Fair point. Then, you're the most handsome and considerate man I've ever met."

She lifted her wine glass in a toast. Data copied her, tapping their glasses together before each took a sip.

"To answer your question, no, I don't have any siblings. Do you?" She began to eat her salmon.

"Yes. I have a brother."

He had never told Faith about Lore and he could see that she was surprised by his answer. "I didn't know that," she said. "You haven't mentioned him."

"Lore is a particularly difficult subject," Data said. "He endangered the lives of the Enterprise crew and is responsible for the death of Dr. Soong."

Faith froze, mid-bite. "He...he killed your father?"

"Yes."

Faith put her fork down. "Data, I am so sorry. I had no idea."

"I would not expect you to have known. It is not something I tend to advertise."

"Still...wow." 

"What is your favorite childhood memory?"

"Hold on, can we go back to the brother thing?"

"Certainly. What do you wish to know?"

"Where is he now? Are you in contact with him?"

Data shook his head. "No, I am not. I do not know where Lore is. He disappeared after taking the emotion chip my father designed for me."

"The what?!"

"Emotion chip. Dr. Soong designed a chip that would allow me to feel basic human emotion. However, Lore took it when he departed."

She stated at Data with a look of utter shock. "I...have no words."

"I understand this is a particularly strange set of circumstances."

"Yeah, you could say that." She picked up her abandoned fork. "I also realize that I haven't been doing a very good job of asking you about yourself. I apologize for that."

"You do not need to apologize," Data assured her. "I assumed you would ask once you were comfortable sharing more about yourself."

She smiled at him and reached across the table to briefly squeeze his hand. "Sorry, I sort of derailed the conversation. You asked me another question and I ignored it. We can change the subject if you'd like, I'm just...processing."

"I do wish to change the subject," Data said. "I asked what your favorite childhood memory is?"

Faith took a moment to gather her thoughts, chewing on another bite of food. Data copied her actions, eating his own salmon for the sake of appearances.

"Probably with my mother, back on Earth," she said. "Before she got sick she was a trainer at the Academy. It was just the two of us so before I started school she would take me to work with her and let me sit in on her lessons."

"You must have retained a lot of information."

Faith shrugged. "Some. But mostly I liked watching her command the room. She was a short, thin Latina woman who could shut down any loud-mouth with just a look."

"That sounds like someone else I know."

Chuckling, Faith took a sip of wine. "Except for the thin part."

"And your father?"

"He died before I was born. He was a Starfleet officer."

"Is that what interested you in joining the Federation?"

"Yeah. I sort of felt like I had to, you know? For them?"

Data tilted his head and stared at her curiously. "Do you enjoy being in Starfleet?"

"You know, for a while, I wasn't sure," she admitted. "But...it definitely has its perks." She gave him a bright smile and cleared her throat. "So what other questions do you have?"

They chatted for a time while Faith finished her dinner. Data could not help but notice the difference between their current and their first attempt. She had been so closed off and distant then, yet now she was open and honest, sharing bits of herself with him. She asked her fair share of questions as well and it was two hours and twenty-one minutes later when they finished their meal.

"Well, I can honestly say that was the most enjoyable first date I've ever had," Faith said as they cleaned up their plates.

"It is not over yet."

"Oh?" 

"Computer, music." Soft orchestral music began to play throughout the shuttle and Data gave Faith a deep bow as he offered her his hand.

Her smile faded into a look of wonder as she shyly accepted. Data pulled her out of the dining area into the main room before he tugged her in close, one hand coming to rest on her waist. He began to lead her through a simple waltz.

She stumbled once or twice, wincing and apologizing until she eventually got the hang of it. 

Data enjoyed the way her hand fit his. He stared down into her eyes as they moved to the music, studying every minute detail. Her expression was soft and her body relaxed the longer the moved. Eventually, she pressed her cheek to his chest, bringing a different level of intimacy to the dance. 

He wanted to kiss her again.

Data let go of her hand so he could gently cup her cheek, drawing back from the embrace. She looked up at him questioningly.

"May I?" he asked.

Her smile grew and she nodded. Their lips met as they had done previously, but with more confidence from both parties. 

Data slid his arm around her waist, drawing her flush against his chest as he deepened the kiss. When they broke so she could breathe, they remained close, her warm breath ghosting across his lips.

"Data," Faith said in a low voice he had never heard from her. "Can I ask something of you?"

"Yes." He knew she could ask anything of him at that moment and he would do it without question or hesitation.

"Touch me."

Data blinked in confusion. "I am touching you, am I not?"

Faith chuckled, taking his hand from her cheek and placing it on her breast. " Touch me, Data."

"Oh. I see."

Data kissed her deeply, his hand squeezing her breast lightly before he began to direct her backwards towards the bunks. At the last moment, he turned, allowing him to sit and pull her down with him.

She followed through with the movement, straddling his lap as she pushed her tongue past his lips. He accepted the intrusion with enthusiasm, his hands now free to roam her back.

Their kisses were heated and sloppy. Faith seemed eager but nervous, her hands gripping his shoulders to steady herself. He could feel her bottom lip trembling and he drew back to look at her. 

"Do you wish to stop?" he asked.

Faith shook her head. "No. No, I want to keep going."

"Please do not be afraid to change your mind if you need to."

"I'm just a little nervous. I'm okay." She leaned in to kiss him again.

Satisfied that she wanted to continue, Data kissed her back, his hands resuming their exploration. One came to rest on her lower back to offer support, while the other slid between them, cupping her breast through her uniform.

Faith let out a small gasp, her teeth grazing his bottom lip in excitement. Spurred on by her reaction, Data squeezed again before allowing his thumb to drag circles around her nipple. It instantly responded to his touch, pebbling beneath the thick material. 

She moaned, rocking her body against his eagerly. Data could read her temperature rising. His own body's sexual functionality began to respond and he could sense himself grow hard at the stimulation. 

Faith must have felt it because she broke the kiss with a soft gasp, looking down at him in awe. "Automatic response?" she asked.

"Yes," Data answered. "Your body is triggering my sexual protocol."

She gave him an impish grin, pressing their foreheads together as she ground down again at him. "Is that your way of saying that I turn you on?"

"Literally and contextually it would seem."

"I'm honored." She kissed him deeply. 

Data continued to massage her breast, enthralled by the way Faith reacted with each tweak and rub of her nipple. She blindly reached for his wrist, pulling his hand behind her back until his fingers brushed the zipper of her suit.

Taking the hint, Data pulled it down, noting the way the tight fabric loosened and Faith's breathing hitched. She dragged the top portion down her shoulders and arms, slipping free of it before letting it bunch around her waist.

Data let his lips leave hers to trail across her cheek, down to her neck, his hands mapping her newly exposed skin. It was smooth and soft, with the occasional mole catching under his fingertips. 

"Your touch is electric," she gasped, hips still rocking downward. 

Data paused and drew back to look up at her with concern. He was not prepared for the sight he was met with. Her pupils were dilated, giving the impression that her eyes were black. Her lips were plump and red from their kisses.

It was a sight he would make a point to recall for a future painting.

"Is my touch harming you?" he asked. "I do not sense any static discharge."

Faith chuckled, taking one of his hands and slotting her fingers between his. "I only meant that when you touch me…" She brought his hand to her bare breast. "My body comes alive."

Data was entranced. Being so close and intimate with Faith was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Her reactions to his mere touch were what he would describe as intoxicating. It consumed his thoughts, all other processes taking a backseat to what was happening right then and there.

He rubbed her breast, his other arm tightening around her waist to yank her as close as she could possibly be. She slid her fingers through his hair, tugging slightly to draw him into a harsh kiss.

They rocked together in unison. Faith settled her knees on either side of his thigh, grinding herself against him as he massaged her breast. His thumb found her nipple again, still stiff from his earlier stimulation. 

He could sense the heat of her arousal through their pants, but whatever she was doing seemed to be enough for her because she made no indication that she wanted or needed his hand between her legs. So he focused on her lips and chest. They moved that way for some time, slow and steady without the need to rush.

When she broke their kiss, gasping for breath, Data kissed her throat before placing a trail down her collarbone. He cupped her breast and slipped her nipple between her lips, sucking gently.

Faith's moan was borderline pornographic. Still gripping his hair, her other hand came up to rest on the wall behind the bunk to steady herself. Data rocked his leg up along with her downward movements and the next thing he knew, her body locked into place, shuddering above him as she orgasmed.

Data looked up to catch her expression, completely enamored by the pure ecstasy. 

She slumped against him shuddering and panting. Data buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent as he rubbed her back in soothing circles.

Without stimulation, his own arousal faded but he was far more focused on Faith to pay it much thought. Although, he did wonder what she would look like touching him. But they could explore that another time.

Data shifted them so they were laying on the small bunk, letting Faith rest closer to the wall so he could give her as much space as possible. He was partially hanging over the edge but it did not bother him.

Faith placed her hand on his cheek, staring deep into his eyes. "That was...beautiful."

"You are beautiful." His words did not come from any program. They came from his own observations.

Faith smiled and kissed him softly.

Data could only theorize about the shift between them. He understood intimate and erotic acts brought couples closer together, but this seemed far more important than he anticipated.

He watched Faith's eyes flutter close, a strange sensation building in his chest. 

[readyplayerhobi]

Peppermint | 01

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future light angst

; Word Count: 10.6k

; Synopsis: Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

; A/N: This is just what I’ve been writing to try and get back into the swing of things. It’s just...light and fun. Was supposed to be a one shot but it’s getting long and it feels like a good place to end as a first part! Please send me thoughts, comments and encouragements as it’s a struggle to write lately ;-;

01 ; 02

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“And this is our main office. It’s open plan, as you can see so I hope that doesn’t bother you too much. We’ve found it works better to just throw ideas out in the open or to just get reactions so feel free to shout out if you need something. Everyone’s very friendly,” Seokjin smiles at you brightly, his thick lips turning up and making his eyes sparkle behind his glasses as he leads you into the wide open space. “And this is your desk. Feel free to decorate it however you want. Nothing will beat the car wreck that’s happening on Jimin’s desk.”

“Hey! This is artistic mess. Everything has a place and there is a place for everything.” The bubblegum pink haired man in question half stands, a finger pointing threateningly while his pearly white teeth peek out from beneath plush pink lips. You can’t help but smile, as his slim frame and cute cheeks make him look distinctively non-threatening and ruin any hope he has of convincing you otherwise.

It could also be the fact he looks like a hipster from Seattle with the thick, black plastic frames delicately placed on his nose and the retro 80s film shirt with an open black and white plaid shirt over the top. Still...he’s rather pretty and you wonder momentarily if you’ve somehow entered another dimension with astonishingly beautiful people.

Either that, or you’ve walked into the set of some reality TV show but you’re not quite willing to break the Matrix programming just yet.

Seokjin snorts and rolls his eyes, lifting a ring laden hand to brush his black hair out of them. It’s hindered slightly by the tan beanie on his head and you’re momentarily distracted once more by his impressive frame. The white shirt with the Jaws film poster on it stretches rather enticingly over his broad shoulders while his black, ripped jeans are snugly secured with a leather belt that has a Superman belt buckle.

Honestly, how were you meant to work in this place?

He’d already introduced you to Namjoon, the creator of Poppin’ Culture who oversaw all aspects of his slowly booming media empire along with Namjoon’s wife, Chaeyoung. She oversaw the HR aspect of everything and had been your first point of call before Seokjin had come down to retrieve you upon getting the call that you had arrived.

Seokjin is the editor of the Poppin’ Culture website, which is the big daddy of the whole enterprise. It had originally started 10 years ago in Namjoon’s university bedroom apparently, just posting reviews of retro films and any new films that came out.

A decade later and it was the biggest source of pop culture news, blogs and entertainment in the Western hemisphere. The website scores over 250,000 hits a day with the blogs averaging a pretty healthy number too and the YouTube channels generating a steady enough income to keep a small team afloat with ease.

His sheer love of all things cultural meant that Poppin’ Culture had expanded far beyond its original remit of film and now had something for everyone. There was the film blog, the gaming blog, the music blog, the television blog and even the book blog. And you’d heard rumours of them branching into sports with talk of a fighting blog and channel appearing soon which would be interesting.

Sports were a whole other thing in the world of things people obsess over.

Either way, you’d been rather desperate to get a job here when the opening had appeared on the job listings website for a new in house content writer. When you’d found out that you’d got it, you were pretty sure that you’d almost deafened Sunmi with your screams of excitement.

As a film major with an English literature minor, it was perhaps the dream job to combine both of your loves together and work with people who were just as enthusiastic about the world of film as you were. Your friends and family had long since grown bored of how you picked apart the latest films or their trailers, but now you would have an audience of thousands that would not only be receptive to it, but interested too.

In your earlier meeting with Namjoon and Seokjin, they’d laid out your responsibilities for you pretty clearly. Given that you were in your six month probation period, you would be expected to create two blog articles a week with the possibility of writing a video script if it was approved by the video team.

Two articles may not sound a lot, but you’d already been informed that you would also likely have to do some indepth research into the topics to provide factual information, along with making sure it wasn’t something that had been done before. Not only this, but you would be expected to be constantly scouring the internet to find new topics of interest and trying to catch the latest leaks before they even happened.

While you’d been hired for the film team, you’d been told that most people tended to dip into other areas to help out or if they had some particular interest in it. As such, you could be expected to possibly be asked to find out the Top 10 Facts About The NES or 15 Things You Never Knew About Taylor Swift or something.

Wasn’t the most scintillating of things to you, but you were willing to branch out and help if necessary. It was a small team and you understand that sometimes you’d need to pitch in when it was required of you, which in turn meant you knew that you could rely on the same help.

“Jimin is our music guy. He’s the one who usually writes the music blogs and videos but he also does the gaming stuff sometimes. Also has a regular book blog where he reviews obscure international books because that’s his thing.” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes as he leans against the desk.

Jimin’s desk is littered with piles of CD cases - who even uses CDs anymore? - along with three different pairs of headphones. He also has a ton of Funko Pop! Vinyl figures that you recognise to be musicians along with a set of Assassin’s Creed characters. You recognise them because Sunmi’s ex-boyfriend had them too.

“Really? You’re going to come into my space, and ruin my time while insulting me? Am I going to wake up tomorrow morning to find you shitting on my lawn too?” Jimin slumps back in his chair, pulling a pair of pink and white headphones over his head to rest around his neck while eyeing the taller man with narrowed eyes.

“You live on the top floor of an apartment building ‘Min. What am I? A wizard?”

“I wish. Maybe you’d wingardium leviosa your ass off my damn desk.” He grumbles, nodding his head at you. “Have you ever read In The Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami?”

The question is so sudden that you’re left standing with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly. You’d not read a lot of translated work in college, though you were hoping to change that. Jimin sighs and slumps in his seat, clicking on his mouse a few times.

“Fucking weird dude. Still not entirely sure what went on it.”

Before you can even respond, Seokjin is leading you over to the desk behind Jimin. This desk is even messier, only you really can see the artistic mess here. It’s covered in pencil sketches that are stacked haphazardly while a high tech looking electronic drawing pad takes up most of the space with even the keyboard pushed away.

The guy sat comfortably in the green and black gaming chair has a black beanie on his head too, only he has platinum blonde hair that covers his eyes. And what pretty eyes they are when he looks up at you; as if someone has reached up into the sky and plucked two of the brightest, shiniest stars and placed them directly onto him.

“Oh, hey. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. I’m the graphic designer here...with a side passion of actual drawing obviously. I mostly use Photoshop but I like to get a bit hands on.” He talks rapidly, his voice quite deep but soft. Pausing, he bites on the black lip ring embedded in the right side of his lower lip before sitting back.

The vibrant and colourful tattoos that run up and down his arms do nothing to hide the obvious fit physique he has and you find yourself dragging your eyes away from that ridiculously broad chest. He’s only wearing a black shirt but my god.

Seokjin lets you both talk for a little, discovering that if you need anything made graphics wise then to let Jungkook know. Apparently he’s the head designer and has two more people under him; Jennie who deals with a lot of designing and Soyeon who handles their website and online shop.

You’re then introduced to Yoongi who is in charge of sound for the videos. He’s pretty quiet but friendly and bright, secluded away in the corner of the office with a soundboard in front of him, while his co-worker Lisa, a video editor, is entirely the opposite. They’re both sat on the same bank of desks, and the difference between Yoongi’s monochromatic desk and Lisa’s bubblegum pop explosion is almost amusing.

The video game team was made of Miyeon, Yugyeom and Baekhyun who all took up the corner on the opposite end of the office to you. You weren’t a huge gamer, but apparently the video game side of Poppin’ Culture was one of the most popular and profitable so you could understand why they had the largest team compared to the others.

Your desk is opposite Jimin’s, allowing you a view of him if you look to your right and it looks sparse compared to everyone else’s. The guy behind you is Taehyung and you’re pleased to discover that he’s friendly and warm with a bright box smile that makes you feel at home instantly.

Taehyung is the other content creator on the film team and someone that you’ll be working closely with, though apparently he also works with Jimin on music. From the short conversation you have with him, it seems that Taehyung mainly specialises in foreign film and you surmise that you’ll be left with most of the more mainstream options with the Oscar bait films being split between you both.

He seems enigmatic enough, with the white ribbon wrapped around his neck and billowing white button up shirt that ends with a pair of baggy, tan trousers. He’s not wearing any shoes, or socks, and you wonder if that’s a violation of something somewhere but no one seems to be saying anything.

His entire desk is full of various plants, artistic photographs in elegant frames and beautiful old film posters in miniature form. A photo of a black and tan Pomeranian is eagerly introduced to you as Yeontan, his dog and you can’t help but laugh at how excited he is to show off his lil pup.

But perhaps not as excited as you when you discover that Friday’s are ‘Bring Your Dog To Work’ day. Apparently Taehyung, Yoongi and Jennie all bring their dogs and it usually ends up just being people playing with them.

Yep, definitely the best workplace already.

“Hey Hoseok, come here before you sit down.” Seokjin calls out to the late entry into the office before looking at you. “I’ll introduce you to our head video editor. He’s the one who usually helps with recording videos, then he’ll edit it all together. He works closely with Jungkook for graphics and if you write a script then he’ll work with you to see if you want anything extra added in like humourous cuts, edits and so forth. He’s got Lisa on his team and a guy who works part time, Taemin.”

The man in question almost shuffles forward, a delicate looking hand gripping the brown fabric strap of his shoulder bag tightly while he looks down at his scruffy, black Converse clad feet as Seokjin introduces you to him. He looks about the same height as Seokjin, though all you can see is a head of messy chestnut brown hair and black circular lens glasses that looks like they’re going to fall off his nose.

“Nice shirt.” You say with an encouraging smile, wondering why Hoseok looks like he’s trying to crawl through the floor mentally. He looks up at that with almost shockingly wide eyes and you almost groan out loud.

This place is blessed or cursed. You’re not sure which yet.

He’s wearing a faded Jurassic Park shirt, the famous logo sliced by ‘dinosaur’ claws, while a pair of ever so slightly baggy and ripped denim jeans are kept up by an oversized tan fabric belt, the end trailing down to his knee. A knit grey cardigan covers his arms and you find it oddly endearing how it’s slipping off one slim shoulder, obviously far too big for him.

The shoulder bag he’s carrying also has the Back to the Future logo on it and you point at it with a grin. “Great Scott! I like your bag too.” You point then at your own chest, your shirt emblazoned with the Back to the Future logo and frown as his eyes dart down before his cheeks flush bright red.

His obvious shyness just seems to make him more endearing to you, and you let out a quiet laugh. There’s an almost awkward silence for a moment as Hoseok just stands there, giving Seokjin tiny glances before he finally sighs and points to the desk behind yours. Hoseok almost bolts there, disappearing behind the iMac and you look back at Seokjin with a raised brow.

He kneels down so he’s closer, the music of the radio that’s blasting out 80s classics drowning out anything he might say to you. “Hoseok’s a good guy, he’s just a little socially awkward. A hard worker, and he’ll do anything you ask but...it’s a little hard to get him to open up. Keep trying though, he will occasionally have a full conversation with you and I keep trying to make sure he’s included so he doesn’t feel left out. Don’t take it personally, it’s just how he is.”

Nodding, you turn on your own iMac and wait for it to boot up before going through the process of getting everything ready for you to work. Given it’s your first day, Seokjin just gives you some simple tasks to go through to help familiarise yourself with their method of working before leaving you to your own devices.

It’s as you’re sat reading through the style guideline for the blog that you watch as Hoseok suddenly appears in the corner of your vision. He’s rolled over to the edge of his desk, hands flipping through the stacked letter tray there as he searches for something while he presses his lips together and blows his cheeks out. You can’t help but watch him with idle interest as he does so.

He’s definitely cute, in fact he’s more than cute. Hoseok is actually stunningly beautiful and from the side, you’re getting to see his arresting profile with ease. A strong jawline swoops in bold lines on his face while his nose is a straight slope with the gentlest turn at the end, his lips thin but full enough to look delightfully kissable as he pouts suddenly without thinking as the tiny frown of concentration causes his strong brows to fold in.

As he finds what he needs, you watch as he disappears back behind his screen before sighing quietly to yourself.

It’s probably not very moral, but you definitely had enough new material to keep your spank bank going for a good few months now. If nothing else, you should thank Namjoon for that.

-

“Did you watch Roma yet?” Taehyung asks, rolling his chair backwards until he appears in your vision. His wispy blonde hair lays straight on his forehead as he rests his hands behind his neck, letting his long sleeved blue sweater stretch across his torso. It’s unusually tight for someone who basically lives in baggy clothes; you’re pretty sure he’s even worn his pyjamas once.

Over the last three months of you working at Poppin’ Culture, you’d understandably grown close with Taehyung as you’d bonded intensely over your love of film. It turns out he was also a film major with a photography minor, meaning he was exceptionally invested in the artsy films or just films with great cinematography.

You’d already been subjected to two passion filled rants of his about Mad Max: Fury Road and Blade Runner 2049 as being prime examples of great cinematography in big budget cinema. It was okay though, as you’d already chewed off his ear about why you thought Aliens was one of the best sequels ever made in history and he’d listened with interest.

There was nothing better than someone who was willing to indulge in your long winded talks about your favourite films; from cult classics to obscure favourites to Hollywood blockbusters. Your rapport with him was so good in fact, that Seokjin had had you do a test video with him to see how well you worked in front of the camera.

The results must have been positive as you’d been given a weekly film podcast with Taehyung that talked about the week’s releases along with any news in the film world. If there was time then you both would regale viewers with your favourite films and analyse them.

So far, it was doing pretty well and you were pleased with the numbers it was pulling in. Not to mention that people seemed to like your inclusion into the videos, which was why you’d ended up in a few other videos around music or even gaming just to voice over them. Taehyung had obviously been a hit.

He had a face for the camera and you’d already jokingly suggested in many a team meeting that they should make merchandise with just his face on it. His little fan club even named themselves ‘Taes Baes’.

“No, I haven’t had chance yet. I’ve been watching The Sinner, I’ve only got like two episodes left but I’ll check it out at some point! Alfonso Cuarón makes such good films; Gravity is still amazing and I’m still mind boggled at the sheer complexity of how that must have been to film with all the CGI they had to do but I feel like Roma looks a little more stripped down.”

Taehyung is nodding slowly, biting his lip almost absentmindedly as he listens to you. “Gravity is great, but you should definitely check out Children of Men. Much better, but Y Tu Mamá También is also phenomenal if you don’t mind the sexual scenes. But yeah, watch Roma. Definitely going to be a bit hit with the awards season and I can see him getting Best Director at the Oscars.”

“Really? It wouldn’t surprise me.” You muse, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your legs as you watch him now.

“Yep. And if he does win, then that’ll be his second Best Director win and it will also mean that Mexican directors have won five out of the last six. They’re killing the Oscars game lately. I still wish Barry Jenkins had won for Moonlight...way better than La La Land.” He sighs wistfully before nodding at your computer screen inquisitively, the beginnings of your latest blog post on the screen.

“Oh, I’m writing why I think Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse deserves the Best Animation at the Oscars. I liked The Incredibles and Ralph but if they win over the magnificence of Spider-Man then I will flip this table.” Pointing to your desk jokingly, Taehyung giggles sweetly.

Your desk has also changed over the last few months as well. A few cute Funko figures of your favourite Star Wars characters have popped up along with one or two more stylised figurines like your Xenomorph alien. Along with that, you’ve invested in some funky letter trays and pots to just bring some brightness to portray your personality a little more.

“I’ve not watched it yet. I know, feel free to pinch my arm. Hoseok has watched it though, he mentioned it the other day. Hey Hoseok, come here bro.” He calls out loudly, turning slightly to watch for the quiet man who spends his days on the computer behind yours.

Slowly, and adorably you might add, Hoseok’s meek face peers around the side of both his and your monitors as he stares owlishly at Taehyung beneath those outdated glasses. You’d say they were ugly, and they were, but he seemed to pull them off.

His hair is hidden today beneath a sand coloured beanie, leaving his entire face exposed and you coo softly at his tiny folded ears. It wasn’t something you’d noticed till Jimin had one day pointed over to the video editor, whispering words of adoration to you as he stared a little moon-eyed and lamented how his own ears didn’t look that cute.

It was beyond endearing, along with the slight pout his lips were pursed in. He probably hadn’t been listening to your conversation and so had no idea what was going on.

You’d noticed that Hoseok either kept an earphone in at all times or covered them with over-ear headphones when he wanted to work hard and not be disturbed. He certainly wasn’t rude but he definitely didn’t seem to be hugely confident in making conversations with people.

That didn’t stop people from trying to include him though, and you got the definite sense that everyone in the office adored Jung Hoseok and simultaneously wanted to hug him and protect him. You certainly did, and you were quite pleased that no one bullied him.

He, unfortunately, had the demeanour that would attract the attention of assholes but Seokjin and Namjoon ran a tight ship here. You did kind of wish that he got included in more outside events though.

“S-sorry. W-wh-what?” His voice is soft, the perfect mix of deep and high as he stutters out a response to Taehyung. The long sleeved shirt he’s wearing is almost salmon pink and has some generic looking cartoon on the front. It looks warm, and you find yourself lamenting the fact that you hadn’t brought a cardigan with you today.

“Spider-Man, the new one. You said to Jungkook that you’d watched it right?” There’s a moment of hesitation as Hoseok’s eyes flick to you before he’s nodding slowly. Almost immediately you grin brightly, not noticing the way that Hoseok pauses with his breath caught before his shoulders shift up to his ears.

“Oh my god, wasn’t it so good? The animation is just beautiful, it makes me want to scream. Like those cityscape shots? Could easily be mistaken for a photo if you just showed someone it. And the perfect blending of the different art styles of the Spider-People and god the music was so good. Miles is amazing and if it doesn’t win then I’m gonna Hulk out,” You pause and look at Taehyung who’s smirking in amusement. “Seriously, I don’t even know how to describe the animation. Think 3D...but not. You get me, right Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s eyes go astonishingly wide once more as you question and his mouth opens and closes a few times as he struggles to find an answer for you. He just settles for nodding quickly, reaching up to pull his beanie off and sort out his hair.

The chestnut locks have gone a bit wild under his hat and you have to bite your lip to stop laughing at how it goes all over the place, though another part of you wants to aww at how cute he looks.

“One day Hoseok, one day I’ll get you to spout poetic bullshit about a film you love.” You tease lightly, tapping at your gel wrist rest that lays alongside your keyboard to ease the pressure on your wrists as you type. He swallows audibly, causing you to laugh out loud while Taehyung chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hoseok has fucking terrible film taste. He thinks Batman v Superman was actually good.” Jungkook calls out and you turn to look at the graphic designer. He’s reclining in his chair, hands over his stomach with an ankle hooked over his knee while he observes the scene on the other side of the office.

Jimin is in the exact same position behind him while he nods his head sagely and you gasp in horror, a hand to your chest as you look back at Hoseok. “Say it isn’t so Hoseok.”

The man in question looks like he wants to sink through the floor as he gives a meagre shrug. Your wail of horror has him cringing while everyone else in the office sniggers and Taehyung pats your back in consolation.

“This can’t be. Why? Is it because your mom is named Martha too?” Jungkook lets out a bark of laughter at that while Jimin creases, folding over in his chair as his forehead rests against his knees from the force of his laugh.

Hoseok attempts to speak a few more times before he frowns deeply, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “N-no. That was d-d-dumb. I just like Batman. I-i-it’s not my favourite f-f-film but it’s not terrible.”

You lean back and stare at him, raising a brow slowly as you narrow at your eyes at him. “What is your favourite film then?”

This is probably the most you’ve talked to Hoseok in the whole three months about non-job related work. You’re actually surprised he’s engaging this far, and you study him closely to make sure he doesn’t look uncomfortable or unhappy. The last thing you want is him to get upset.

But he doesn’t back down from your question, instead staring at something on his desk intently before looking back at you. You almost lean back in reaction, the intensity of his gaze far stronger than you’d expected and you’re surprised to feel a slight stirring of sexual lust for him. While you’d always acknowledge he was handsome - wasn’t everyone in this place? - you’d never quite seen Hoseok in a ‘oh holy cow’ light until right now.

“I-I-I don’t have one. B-b-but I like Jurassic Park and Blade Runner. And the Godfather. Oh, and Big Hero 6.” He adds as an afterthought, and you feel oddly proud that he didn’t stutter throughout the rest of the conversation. It was obviously just a nerves thing, but you kind of hope that he’ll get a bit bolder if you keep trying with him.

“Good choices. Solid. Not pretentious like the avant garde master here. He probably watches his porn in French black and white too.” A casual thumb thrown in Taehyung’s direction gets you the finger in response.

“It’s black and white softcore German, you heathen. No one does the group sex quite as good. The camera angles when there’s so many bodies.” He kisses the tips of his fingers before blowing them in the air, causing you to stare at him with a slightly grossed out face.

Looking at Jimin, you shake your head. “You know, I’ve only known the two of you for three months now. But I can easily see how you started dating. You with your weird music and books and Taehyung with your pretentious films.”

Taehyung gasps theatrically before smiling, fully aware that you’re joking around with him. Jimin on the other hand, snorts loudly and sticks his tongue out at you. “Hey, there’s nothing weird about my music choices. And what the hell. You’ve been listening to Billie Eilish non-stop lately according to your Spotify. And while she’s incredibly talented, I wish she’d lighten up a little.”

Turning to look at the cotton candy haired guy, though his hair was mostly hidden today by a black ball cap, you raise an eyebrow slowly. “Firstly, don’t insult Billie like that! Her songs are beautiful and soothe my soul. And also, this coming from the guy who listens to Morrissey. Unironically, I might add. Your opinion is invalid in this conversation.”

“...You know what. I can't even argue that. You right.” Jimin shrugs in defeat and sits back while Taehyung makes consoling noises at his boyfriend from his seat.

The delicate snort from behind your monitor makes your eyes widen, causing you to shift over slightly to watch Hoseok as he giggles. His white teeth peek out at you as he bites on his lower lip to try and contain his laugh.

And from how pretty and sweet it sounded, you wish he wouldn’t. The soft noises he lets out are oddly infectious, causing you to laugh in turn with a pretty dopey expression on your face and making you completely oblivious to the sly look Jimin and Taehyung are sharing.

“You love Imagine Dragons too, right? Hoseok listens to them all the time.” Taehyung says helpfully, gesturing with his chin towards the man behind your monitor.

Spinning back, you look at Hoseok with a happy grin and clap your hands together excitedly. “Oh my god, yes! I’m in love with Bad Liar right now, and Zero is so fun. I think Jimin keeps laughing at me for dancing in my seat.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond to you properly though, just nodding his head and smiling slightly as you playfully glare at the slim man across the office.

“On the subject of dating though...Hoseok. Have you ever had a girlfriend before? Or boyfriend, if that’s your thing.” Jimin asks, his tone not even slightly sly and you look at him in surprise. If he was trying to not be obvious, then he was being about as subtle as the Seattle Space Needle. Surely they’d already know this right?

As far as you’ve gathered, Jimin has been at Poppin’ Culture for four years and Taehyung for three. The two had started dating two years ago and despite your teasing, you were already confident that they were two of the cutest couples you’d ever seen.

Hoseok though, had apparently been with the company for years. He’d gone to college with Namjoon, Chaeyoung and Seokjin and had a film production degree. Namjoon had started Poppin’ Culture when he was 19, in his second year, and Hoseok had come on board once they’d branched out to a YouTube channel.

Still, you’re surprised by the way Hoseok’s cheeks go bright red and his eyes dart to you for a moment before he’s looking down at his desk once more. A wet tongue peeks out of his mouth quickly as he licks along his lips to wetten them, coughing to clear his throat before he’s looking back up at Jimin with a frown.

“Would you like the name of my e-e-ex-girlfriend? I’m s-s-socially awkward, not inept.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you look at Jimin with a ‘wtf’ look. As nice as he was, he was a bit blunt and you felt that situation could have probably done with a little more tactful handling. Hoseok looked like he could fry an egg on his cheeks and Jimin winces at the glare both Taehyung and you give him.

“Sorry man. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to insult you.” The apology is sincere in tone, with Jimin ducking his head and turning back to his work. You watch carefully as Hoseok eyes the younger man before letting out a quiet sigh and nodding his acceptance.

The atmosphere is slightly awkward now, and you’re desperate to make Hoseok less uncomfortable which is why you find yourself blurting out words you immediately want to swallow back up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve not had a boyfriend since I was 20 and I’ve not been laid in four years.”

Almost immediately your hand is slapping over your mouth as your eyes widen in horror, apologies falling from your lips like honey as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Not only are Hoseok’s eyes resembling dinner plates, his jaw dropped open in shock, but so is just about everyone else’s in the office. Well, that’s certainly one way to make him feel better about himself you guess.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Everyone, we need to be careful with her. She’s going through some tough times. Only 26 and already looking at a life of non-sexual fulfilment.” Taehyung drones deeply, his voice faux-sincere and you glare at him while pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“I will delete your folder of obscure foreign films.” You hiss at him through narrowed eyes, causing him to burst out into laughter as his hand slaps his thigh in amusement.

“Oh god, you crack me up. I need to thank Seokjin for hiring you, seriously. God, get on with your Spider-Man boner before you accidentally reveal something else way too intimate for the workplace to know.” He snorts before rolling back to his own desk. The office thankfully goes back to normal after that, the low level of chatter competing with the soft sounds of today’s playlist.

Looking at your screen, you’re distracted momentarily by the sight of Hoseok still in view just around your monitor. He’s looking at you in that way people do when they’ve checked out, their brains focused on something else entirely and you watch him back in amusement until he realises.

Almost immediately he cringes, bowing his head slightly and giving an uncomfortable smile before sliding back out of view. Smiling, you shake your head and pop your headphones back into your ears as you get back to work.

You’re oddly pleased to see Hoseok stand up for himself bluntly, and you remind yourself not to baby him. He’s a grown man after all, older than you.

The flashing of your phone lets you see that you’ve got a new notification from Facebook, and you roll your eyes as you click on your screen to see what it is. What you see however has you slowly smiling as a flutter of butterflies take flight in your stomach and you tap accept eagerly.

You have a new friend request: Jung Hoseok

-

The next few weeks roll by quickly with Taehyung and you becoming inundated with awards season nominations, ceremonies and just general Oscar bait films. It had even resulted in a whole ‘Top 10 Oscar Bait Films’ video on the Poppin’ Culture Film YouTube channel which had proven remarkably popular, even spawning a sequel that was generated purely from user comments.

You’re actually surprised with just how much you continue to love your job, even with the sheer pressure of blog and video deadlines constantly breathing down your neck. And it doesn’t take you long to realise that it’s because of the people you work with who make working that overtime all the more sweeter.

Jimin is genuinely hilarious and when paired up with Jungkook he becomes hysterical. Lisa has easily become your female work best friend, with the two of you Skyping all the time on your work computers and soon venturing out into the world to go to dinners, concerts and the cinema while Taehyung is an incredibly hard working colleague who always keeps a close on eye on how you’re doing.

It’s genuinely one of the best places you’ve ever worked and you thank all your lucky stars that you’d been accepted because you were pretty sure that you were making some of the closest friends you could.

And then there was Hoseok.

Jung Hoseok still remained a mystery to you and you weren’t entirely sure why you so desperately wanted to figure him out. Or maybe not figure him out, because you kind of liked how shy and mysterious he is.

The rest of your colleagues have been pretty open books and you were pretty sure that you were on the verge of receiving daily updates on Jimin and Taehyung’s sex life - you were that close with the two. But you still knew almost nothing about Hoseok and it drove you wild.

What was even more annoying was the fact that only you were apparently bothered by it too. The others just shrugged and said that he’d always been quiet and introverted, so they just made it clear to him that they were there if he wanted to talk or make friends with them. Apparently he never went out on the workplace socials and he rarely talked to others via text or Skype.

Which kind of infuriated you, because it probably was true that Hoseok preferred to be alone and lost in his world of music. But there must be something horribly isolating about never getting invited to things or never being included, which is why you kept trying to include him in your own conversations. The others would sometimes talk around him, but you always tried to make sure that he felt comfortable and included in your conversations.

Taehyung had honestly admitted in a meeting that he wasn’t entirely sure why you kept asking Hoseok things, pointing out that you might be annoying him. But you’d countered with the fact that you always gave Hoseok plenty of options to slip out of the conversation, yet he would continue it on sometimes.

It had been then that Taehyung had flushed a pretty golden pink, nodding his head as he acknowledged the fact that Hoseok had opened up more in the last few months of you being here than in the years he’d been here. That on its own had made your heart hurt. No one could enjoy being so easily disregarded, no matter how quiet and introverted.

Currently though, you were slouched on your couch with your best friend, Sunmi, as you both ate pepperoni pizza while watching Avengers: Infinity War for the bajillionth time. You, because you just loved the film, and her because she really loved Chris Hemsworth.

Honestly? Mood.

“I swear, this is the most badass entry scene of any entry scene in all of film,” You blurt out randomly, lifting your fist as Thor appears on screen in the middle of the battlefield and shouting out alongside him. “Bring. Me. Thanos!”

Sunmi snorts elegantly from your side, taking a bite of greasy pizza and chewing slowly while she eyes up her fictional man with pleasure. A hum of delight leaves her when Thor meets up with Captain America and you laugh, poking at her side.

“Imagine being in a Chris sandwich.” She looks at you and wiggles her carefully put together eyebrows before giggling.

“I wish. God, they can wreck me any day. You know, I can’t believe that you get to watch stuff like this and then write about it or make a video about it. Why can’t I just laze around and do that? Do they have an opening for me?” She pouts at you, placing the crust back in the box before wrapping her hands around your wrist and playfully whining.

You laugh loudly and take a bite of your own slice. “For what? Sorry Elle Woods, but you’re going to have keep your bending and snapping for the judge and jury. I doubt Poppin’ Culture - The Law Version will be very popular.”

“What about if I wear a hot pink bikini?” She says seriously, her face carefully blank as you give her a droll stare.

“Yeah sure, lemme give PornHub a call. I’m sure they’ve got a whole audience just waiting for their law lectures from Bikini Girl 3.” Sunmi shrieks with laughter at that, rolling backwards until her head is hitting the arm of the sofa and relaxing into the pile of cushions there.

Reaching her foot up, she prods at your thigh annoyingly until you push her away with a sigh.

“So, how is your work though? You’ve been spending a lot of time there. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. I only spend extra time doing work if I’m getting paid for it because I do not enjoy my job that much.” Sunmi sighs heavily, letting her arms fall behind her head as she turns her gaze back to your large television screen.

“Okay firstly, it was your decision to take a law degree. Your parents are assholes but they’re not dickish. They would have been fine with you being a doctor instead. Secondly, you make so much money an hour that you shouldn’t complain. You can literally buy a pair of Jimmy Choos with an hour.” Closing the pizza box, you lean forward and place it onto your wooden coffee table before leaning back and patting your stomach affectionately.

“Firstly you bitchass, I don’t make a lot because I’m still not fully qualified yet. It costs a lot to be a lawyer and the work is boring because I’m in property law. Yawn. Secondly, I hate property law but I would’ve passed out being a doctor. Blood and snot? No thanks. Maybe I should just give it all up and go back to college to become an artist.” She says dreamily and you look over at her with a raised brow.

“Do it. If it’s what you want. Your life shouldn’t be made on a decision you did based on what your parents wanted for you, as much as you might want to make them happy. They’re not your life, and you’ll burn out quicker if you do something you hate.” Sunmi just hums before shifting the pillows until she’s looking at you.

“Still. It’s nice that you’re enjoying it. I’m happy for you. I need to meet this Lisa, so you better set up a playdate or something. If she’s banging, I may just bang her. I mean, if you’re alright with that. And she likes girls.” Sunmi wiggles her brow and you laugh, shaking your head slowly.

“I think Lisa swings both ways honestly, so go for it. She’s pretty and cute with a really nice and fun personality. I wish I could introduce you to Jimin and Taehyung as well. They’re funny individually but hilarious together. Urgh, I wish I had someone the way Jimin eyefucks Tae across the room.”

“Does he realise you can see that?” She asks, an incredulous look on her face and you nod with a laugh.

“Oh yeah. He just gives me an innocent smile. They’re fun though and make me laugh, it’s like a family.” You sigh softly, slumping down further into the couch pillow. Sunmi’s quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“What about that quiet guy? Hoseok right?” Pausing, you chew on your lip as you stare blankly at the screen and wonder how to describe him to her.

“Hoseok...is sweet. Quiet but sweet. He doesn’t get involved in conversations of his own accord still, but I include him and he’ll get more involved now. We even have whole conversations just him and I, particularly about our love of 80s films though they’re not very long conversations. It’s nice, I’m literally watching him become more integrated and it’s kind of annoying that everyone just let him stagnate in his isolation. Like, seriously. Did no one ever think that maybe he doesn’t get involved because people have let him isolate himself? It’s hard to pull yourself out of that, and he’s obviously trying.” You don’t even realise you’re half ranting until you see Sunmi’s bemused smile, causing your cheeks to heat.

“Anyway, yeah. He’s a lot more caring than people think too. He just doesn’t show it in ways that you or I would, nor does he talk about them. Like...the other week I came in one morning to find a tube of dissolvable vitamin C tablets on my desk. When I asked where they’d come from, Hoseok Skyped me and said that he thought I looked like I was lacking a bit of vitamin C and to take one with water every day. And then when I was feeling a bit tired, he made me a cup of green tea. I swear Sunmi, he was so sweet and adorable because he kept stumbling over his words while telling me that green tea was healthy and rejuvenating but he didn’t like the taste so he always has peppermint and he hoped I liked peppermint too.”

Sunmi says nothing for a moment and you look at her in confusion, wondering why she’s suddenly decided to be quiet. It’s not like her to not get involved in your conversations, only she’s staring at you with wide eyes and a pretty mouth that’s fallen open.

“Oh my god. You like him.” Her words cause you to pause, frowning immediately as you shake your head in denial.

“What? No I don’t. I mean, yeah as a friend. Or I hope as a friend, but not anything more than that.” She lets out a peal of high pitched laughter while sitting up, looking closely at your face with those mahogany eyes of hers.

“Yes, you do. Oh my god, he is not even remotely your type from the sounds of it yet you’re falling hard girl. Show me a picture of him.” You want to keep denying her, mind spinning from what she’s come out with as you wonder where she’s got this impression from.

But once Sunmi has made up her mind, then it’s game over for everyone else. Sure enough, you find yourself scrolling through your phone on Facebook to find a nice picture of him to show her. And as you look through his, admittedly few, profile pictures, you pause for a moment as you realise that maybe she’s right.

Only people who like someone try and find the best looking picture of them, too afraid that their friend or family member will laugh and think their crush ugly. The swooping sensation in your stomach is confusing, and you don’t know whether it’s shy excitement or just plain old nausea.

Finally deciding on a picture of Hoseok that has obviously been taken in a coffee shop, you turn the phone screen so she can see. It’s got dim lighting, and has looks to have been taken on a Polaroid style camera from the style of it but he looks good.

In fact, he looks beautiful and his bright smile kind of takes your breath away.

He’s just wearing a plain white, long sleeved shirt with dark brown hair parted in the centre, the strands laying carelessly on his forehead while those beautiful chocolate eyes stare out from behind the lenses of his glasses. The table blocks anymore view of him and yet you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your stomach slowly spread along your veins.

Hoseok’s smiles are still rare, but they’ve slowly been becoming more frequent as you continue to talk to him. And every time you think he should smile more often, because he has a face that’s made for a smile.

His mouth is stretched wide with perfectly white, straight teeth showing and the force of the expression causes his eyes to narrow, soft tan cheeks looking adorably kissable.

Oh, you’re totally fucked.

“Holy shit…are you kidding me? This is Quiet Guy? Shy Guy? Holy fuck girl. He’s gorgeous! Look at that smile, oh my god. And he has such pretty eyes, that’s just not fair. Oh, please go for him. I know I said that he’s not your type because you normally like either those hipster guys or bad boys but he looks like he’d be so good for you. He looks kind, like you’d call him and say you’re sick and he comes right over to make you food and wraps you up in a blanket before cuddling with you, telling you that you need body heat to stay warm.” You look at her with a raised brow as she takes your phone and scrolls through his photos.

“And he obviously likes you.” Her words throw you then, causing you to frown as you stare before finally asking why she thinks.

“Because you said it yourself. He talks to you, even when he doesn’t talk to the others. You’ve said he keeps conversations going with you. He added you on Facebook first and he’s taking care of you in a weird but cute way of flirting. Like I said, he looks like he’d be a good boyfriend because he’s already trying to make sure you’re healthy and okay.”

She hands your phone back and points at the screen, where a new photo of Hoseok is. It’s not from his profile pictures, so you just presume it’s one that someone took of him and tagged him in. He’s asleep on his side on a couch, his right cheek smooshed into a pillow while his other looks soft and round. Pink lips pout in his sleep, the ends turned up while his lashes remain firmly closed and his hair is all over the place.

You have the strongest urge to reach through the screen to kiss his cheek.

“I think you should think on it, because I know you. And you’re probably having a little internal argument right now about whether or not you like him. But...if you decide that you do. Then I think you should go for it, because he looks nice. Get to know him a bit more, get him to open up his walls to you a bit more and then see if he really is interested. It’s been a while since you smiled like that about someone, and even longer since you searched through their pictures to find me the most flattering.” Dammit, you knew she’d figure you out.

You don’t respond though, simply locking your phone and placing it down on the cushion next to you as you both turn your attention back to the film. But you can’t help the what if’s that float around in the back of your mind, wondering if perhaps she’s right not only about yourself, but also him.

Did Hoseok like you?

-

Quite understandably, your interactions with Hoseok are suddenly tinged with a film of awkwardness as you contemplate the fact that you quite possibly like your shy colleague. And that’s to say nothing of how closely you watch his interactions with you to see if there’s a chance that he likes you in the way you like him.

Honestly, anyone would think you were 14 and not 26.

But he made you feel like a teenager though. The fluttering of nervous excitement in your stomach whenever he would look at you with that soft, bashful smile he’d give you whenever he caught your eye in the office. The way you would feel sad resentment when he was ill or was working from home and so didn’t come in.

How could you not though? Not only was he soul wrenchingly handsome and pretty, he was also thoughtful with the few conversations he would engage in and he was so sweet and kind.

When you’d complimented him on the peppermint green tea he’d brought you the other week, you found yourself with a mug being made every time he got up to go to the kitchen. You’d be completely absorbed in your work, staring at your screen intently with headphones in to keep distractions at bay, when you’d suddenly smell the pleasant scent of peppermint drifting to your nose.

And then you’d look to your side and see a fresh cup of tea sat there, steaming slowly in your Star Wars mug.

A quick glance behind your screen would let you see Hoseok staring firmly at his screen, refusing to look at you and yet his cheeks tinging a rosy glow that made your heart tug. It was only fair to respond in kind, and so you’d taken to making him a cup of your favourite tea as well, delicious salted caramel, and leaving it on his desk.

He hadn’t complained, so you took that as a sign that he enjoyed it too.

Maybe others would look at your interactions with laughter or bemusement, but you liked them. If he was flirting with you, because let’s face it you were flirting with him, then you were quietly excited and hopeful. You could cope with glacial, as long as it would hopefully result in something at the end.

Currently, you were attempting to film a video talking about the films that were snubbed completely at the Oscars. Taehyung had written up the script for you but was suffering from a winter cold at home. You’d claim man-flu, only you’d video called him and seen the dark circles under his eyes, sallow skin and bright red nose as he’d sniffled and snorted his way through your conversation.

As a result, you’d had to grab your emergency make-up kit from your drawer and rush to the bathroom to apply it. Today had been a lazy day; meaning you were just wearing a pair of ratty black jeans and an ancient Star Wars shirt that had once been black but was now an odd shade of grey.

Once you’d felt that you looked at the very least passable to the potentially thousands upon thousands of people who would be watching your face, you rush back through the office to place your kit back before heading over to the recording room. Tapping on the door lightly, you open it up to find Hoseok and Lisa inside as they set up the camera and lighting.

Already, the big ring lights are glaring and you’re feeling hot as you move over to the two, watching as they mess with the camera before checking over the computer on the desk next to it. Lisa moves around to the front, standing over the duct tape X on the floor and clipping the tiny microphone onto her shirt while waiting for Hoseok.

He’s wearing a plain white shirt today with a yellow and black check shirt open over the top and a plain pair of jeans. For some reason, he’s apparently decided to emulate Jungkook and is wearing some tan Timberland’s as well, though they surprisingly work well with the outfit.

You’ve noticed that Hoseok isn’t exactly the most fashionable person, but he’s yet to wear something that you find genuinely offensive. In fact, you often find that he manages to look hot even when he really shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just a talent attractive people have?

Hoseok gives a small nod to Lisa as his eyes flicker up from the screen, the light being reflected in his glasses. Lisa begins to talk random nonsense, performing a soundcheck to make sure the microphone is working properly while also making sure the camera’s fine.

Once done, she helps you to thread the microphone through your shirt and clip it on while placing the main pack into your back pocket. You stand on the X while going over the script that you can read on the screen reader facing you on the table.

Lisa slips away while you’re busy practicing, going through quick vocal exercises to warm your voice up as you continue to read over what you’re going to say. In your mind, you’re already visualising what the video will look like and you kind of feel sad that Taehyung can’t do this. It’s a good script.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Hoseok’s voice is soft and light, every word sounding like it has been cautiously thought of before he speaks it. You smile slightly as your head nods forward in response to him before clearing your throat and clenching your hands a few times while letting out a deep breath.

“Am I in the right place?” Looking down at the floor, you make sure that your feet are squarely on the spot and Hoseok looks through the camera before giving a cute okay symbol with a wink and pressed smile. It causes you to bite your own lower lip, desperately keeping inside the ‘cute’ that wants to escape.

“Okay, recording in three...two…” He stops speaking after that and mouths out the final one before pressing the button to record, a red light sparking to life on the camera and immediately you’re smiling brightly.

There’s no real pressure on you to do a good take in one shot, because Hoseok will be editing the scenes together and making some shorter to suit the video anyway. But you don’t really like wasting unnecessary hard drive space for him if possible. Plus, it just means he has to stare at your foolish facial expressions for longer and you’d really rather not.

On that note, it’s a little unfair that he gets to watch your face up close with a 4K camera. Actually, you’ve never thought about that before and almost immediately your brows crease at the thought of him seeing every pore and blemish on your skin. Christ, the camera does not do anyone justice and you want to whine at the thought of him seeing all your bad points in such harsh lighting.

When you don’t actually start speaking and instead start making a distressed face, Hoseok’s head peeks out from behind the monitor and he frowns at you in turn. Eyes focusing on his pretty visage, you have to squint slightly to see him properly from behind the astonishingly bright lights set up but you shake your head to reassure him.

Rolling your head on your shoulders and blowing bubbles with your lips, completely unaware of the tiny amused smile on Hoseok’s lips as he watches you through the monitor, you force yourself to get back into the zone.

The rest of the hour spent recording goes more or less like usual, with multiple outtakes when you mess things up and cause yourself to laugh. One of the hardest things of recording videos is just being able to being able to speak properly. You’ve had to learn to over-enunciate sometimes to avoid slurring your words together, because that just encourages hate from viewers.

And you are not in the mood to get hate. It’s already hard enough being a female commentator on the channel, and you’d had to grow some pretty thick skin in both the comments and on your own social media.

But there were plenty of equally great people too in fairness, and you’d even kind of got to know some regular viewers from the constant interactions you got both on your videos and on your own Twitter account. It was nice to have a mini fan club of people who were willing to defend you against the trolls and raise you up when you’re feeling down, though it’s not nearly as many as Taehyung’s extortionately big legion of fans.

There’s only a few major mishaps this time, with a few pronunciations of your words going horrifically bad and you find yourself cringing. Hoseok has a good chuckle on occasion and the bright bubbles of his laughter make you smile in turn, heart sparking with happiness at making him laugh.

Once Hoseok gave the signal to indicate that he was pretty happy with the recording, you let your shoulders drop while your head falls back on your shoulders, a deep groan leaving you as your entire body relaxes. Reaching to pull the microphone and its pack from under your shirt, you move over to Hoseok as he turns the light and camera off before he’s checking over the computer to transfer the new video files to his solid state drive.

“Did everything look good in it?” You ask, leaning your hip against the desk while your arms cross over your chest. Hoseok pauses for a moment at your close proximity before looking up at you slowly, his beautiful brown eyes looking sweetly innocent and big as he takes you in.

It’s still ridiculously endearing how shy he gets around you, but what you like even more is how it’s only when he’s not doing work related things. The last hour has been spent with him practically bossing you around, barking out polite requests when you’ve moved out of frame or have said something wrong.

He wasn’t mean about it or anything, he just took his job very seriously and it’s what made him such a damn good videographer and video editor. He knew what he needed and wasn’t afraid to tell people what to do in regards to that, so the sudden reversal back into the meek Hoseok tugged at your heart.

“Y-yeah. You did good. Less bad shots today.” You pout at him theatrically before pushing lightly at his shoulder, just enough to make him rock where he stands.

“Hey! There’s no need to be mean. You make it sound like I’m as bad Yugyeom! I don’t mess up that bad.” Lower lip sticking out, you look down at the floor until Hoseok lets out a soft and breathy laugh, shaking his head while adjusting his glasses slightly.

“I-I didn’t mean-. I’m not saying anything else,” He looks at you and gives you a wry smile. “I-I’m not stupid. I think I’ve dug enough of my own grave here.”

You can’t help but laugh out at that as you lean forward, body moving of its own accord before you move around him and rest your hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and solid beneath your palm, even through the layers he’s wearing and you swallow in sudden awareness of the firmness of him.

He freezes in place subtly as well, the muscles under your fingers tensing a little as neither of you move for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched him, and neither of you really seem to know what to do.

Swallowing, you let out a chuckle that’s a little higher pitched than you perhaps intended but you try to make it sound as natural as you can. Even if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed now when your hand feels warm and bizarrely sweaty.

“Funny, you’re way funnier than I thought Hobi!” The nickname you’d overheard Seokjin calling him once slips out without meaning to and you cringe with gritted teeth behind his back, taking your hand off his shoulder to pinch your leg at your stupidity. “Well, I hope it goes well. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me or just when it’s done so I can look it over? Thanks and bye!”

You can’t stop how fast the words fall from your lips, a faucet stuck on full when what you really want is a vault so tight not even the crown jewels of England can get out of it. Giving him an awkward smile, you book it out of the recording room as quickly as you can and leave him alone.

In fact, you go so fast that you don’t get to see the way Hoseok watches after you with widened eyes of shock which soon melt into half-moons of unguarded happiness in the quiet room. His hand shakes as it moves up to press at the place your own hand had been, the skin feeling prickly underneath and his breath shakes as a hesitant smile slowly paints its way on his face.

You don’t see that, nor do you see the way he pauses on a close up of your face with a fond smile before closing the programme down and leaving.

[hunterbahamut]

Today’s story is one I’m calling ‘Transformer’.

There’s more to this than meets the eye. I hope you enjoy!

--

Zech stood in front of the time chamber nervously, feeling the power radiating from his gauntlet.  This was it, it was time for his final trip back through time. He would never be able to save his father from the errors of his ancestors.

In that moment, a familiar voice boomed from his head. "My son, are you ready to enter the time chamber?"

"Yes, yes... I'm glad you're here, Eblan."

"I would like to have a word with you before you enter. When we last left, you were more than ready to enter the time chamber. However, you overlooked one crucial fact. The Destiny Ascension Program is now complete.”

Zech frowned and let out a sigh of frustration. "That's exactly the problem, the program was never meant to be."  He looked down, "How many lives did we loose already?  They were never meant to be involved, and you know it."

"Let them out, Zel, it's not like the Volturi will know what hit them. "

Zech held his hands out, "I don't want any more suffering, not from this place, not from our soldiers either."

Zesh rolled his eyes. "There's nothing to be done about this, as long as we don't find any more information, this place won't respond in kind to the Volturi."

"Yeah. I know. We've just been trapped in this cycle for so long now."  He sighed out, "I want things to go back to the way they were before.  I miss them all, especially Nova."  He shook his head, "You can't change my mind, I have to go back."

--

"I know." The nurse on duty got up and passed a small red pouch to the Wasp. "Thanks Nova." She bowed to the Wasp, then turned to the beaten Martian and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Don't let them get you down, buddy." The Martian nodded to her. "She's right."

Now that the doctor had gone, Nova had begun to really notice the problems.   Oh. It was definitely her fault.

Everything was going just fine until another explosion rocked the building.

As the dust settled Zech and Lon chose a shortcut, heading back to the lobby. They quickly noticed that Harry had disappeared and Lon collapsed to the floor, shaking. He looked at the cage, thinking it was the most likely explanation. Zech stepped outside, looking for his friend. Things were getting worse, it was hard to keep any thing coherent; Nova, Lon, Harry, Sparks, so many people he thought he knew only to be forgotten or disappearing. This was getting worse, and he knew he had to fix it.  And to fix that, he had to find either the team or Ezskar. 

"This has to stop!" Jobe said, upset, but trying not to look so hopeless. "A lot of people are putting a lot of trust in you, but I want to know you're going to keep your word. I have done some research, I don't know what you're doing, but you have to know that you're hurting a lot of people if you've let something like this happen."

"I know..." Zech said, "Too many people have been hurt by all of this." He looked back to Jobe, "You know that I've always kept my word.  I am going to fix this, one way or another.  You just have to trust me.  I have to find find Wart or Ezskar first before Trask or the others do."

Rody thought about this for a moment, "I suppose, but I hope you don't give up."

Zech shook his head, "No, not yet, boss."

Rody chuckled, "Well, we'll see."

--Chapter 7--

"What are you doing, Zech?"

"Looking for Ezskar." He said, checking his scanner. "He's close, but so is Nova, Trask -and- Sparks.  He let out a sigh, "This is getting out of hand, if I don't get that time device back, then nothing will make sense anymore!"

With a flick of his wrist, Jayne's X-COM helmet twitched, and he smiled. "Oxygen converter." he said, showing it to McCoy. "Alright, this ought to be good enough." He turned around and pointed his knife at the scanner. "Auspex locator." he said, and waved the device over. The device beeped, and Jayne pulled back his hood.

Zech blinked in confusion for a moment. "Uh, yeah...something like that." He sighed, "Alright, you guys take care of that, I'm going in after the pink terror."  He didn't wait for any kind of response, instead he just threw his arm out, teleporting out of the room and into the street; what was left of Union main square.  If he remembered it right, this was the epicenter of it all.   Nodding to himself, he simply charged forward through the center of the square, where his tail extended forward and lowered to touch a street lamp. As it closed in on him, all the signals for the various Villagers came to life.

"Great, the supposed hero appears."  The all-too-familiar voice of the pink mutant sneered.  Ezskar stood on the remains of the central monument and looked over to Zech. "How many more times must we go through this?  How many more times will you be plucked out of time to face me here?"  

"As many times as it takes!"  Zech shot back, "You don't know what kind of damage you're doing!"

Ezskar attacked, causing a shimmering sphere of energy to form and began firing a laser array at Zech. It was only a matter of time before Zech's energy shield was cut off and he was done for.

Zech charged into laser, pushing his shield out as much as he could before he broke and dashed to the side, letting the laser explode behind him. He threw his arm out, teleporting closer to Ezskar before firing a bolt of magical energy.  "This ends now!"  He shouted, "Give up!" He picked up a bladed weapon and slammed it into Ezskar's shield. "Great!" As the two charged, Zech flicked his wrist and the laser disappeared. He was quick and nimble. Ezskar couldn't use his weapon while his shield was up, and he would just get slammed into the wall if he tried.

"You time-hopping freak!"  Ezskar yelled out before he fell back, dropping the shield and raising the weapon up, aiming for the hybrid. This was his chance; Zech teleported out of view, reappearing behind Ezskar and raising his gauntlet up, energy charging up before he released it.

He felt the blast pass through the back of his shield. With a loud crack, Ezskar's armor and his core began to cool as the drones assimilated his form. Ezskar screamed as he felt a bright beam fly towards his head and slice open his helmet, leaving him with his other eye showing. Ezskar fell to his knees and gasped in pain.

Zech raised his gauntlet and aimed it at the weapon, unleashing an energy tether to grab hold and yank it back to him. "Got it!"  He cried out, "Now to put an end to it once and for all!"  He reached into the weapon's core and yanked out a blue crystal as it glowed and sparked with very familiar energy.  He had to destroy it, and hopefully this will all be put to an end. The mysterious energy caused his blood to heat up and he started to sweat. The jet black suit looked as if it was coated with at least thirty years of ash, and the single pale finger on the right hand was similar to the fading image of Darkstalker- whatever he was.

Zech held the crystal in his gauntlet and started to charge up his own energy; causing the ground and air around him the shake and vibrate.  Time energy creating a paradox like this was dangerous, and he had no way of knowing if this would restore everything, or destroy everything.  But it had to be better than this. As Time energy, he summoned up the holographic arms, showing himself pulling on each one of them, changing their material form as he went, until he finally got a long metallic straight line stretching from where the crystal should be to his hand. Time broke into three pieces in his hand. He flipped the crystal, leaving it in the air. Suddenly, the ground began to tear apart and come to life; energy spilled out from the cracks as the time shards began to reform.  Everything around the hybrid began to distort and fade away as the timeline was reforged.  He felt the pain shoot through him as he started to become consumed into the distortion wave as well.

"God..." he gasped with his voice as he continued to be dragged into the past. God's eyes widened as the myriad of terrible thoughts crossed his mind. The most haunting thing about being a Time Lord is the moment you realize how far behind you are in time. I could've sworn they were slowing down by the second. "Dumbledore." God breathed heavily, his thin lips wriggling with sadism. "The universe is a pain."

--

There was a heavy amount of silence for a few moments before Phineas spoke up. "What the hell was that?!"

The video ended and the lights came back on.  The members of the team had the most confused, flabbergasted or concerned looks on their faces.

"What the hell was that?!" Phineas said again, "What kind of bizarre trash was this?  'Based on a true story' my aching ass!"

Nix sighed, "I was willing to give them some slack, this feels like it was written by a bad AI program or something."

Sparks looked flustered, the end of his smoothie straw all crunched up from his chewing. "They got me all wrong! I don't act like that! That's not what I'm like! And I'm not a woman!"

"They make me look totally stiff and humorless." Tero said with his arms crossed.

"Actually, I think that actor's pretty spot on."  Phin snorted, "But the script writers thinks I'm an idiot who tells bad jokes about meat all the time!"

Tero shot him a glare. "You tell bad jokes about plenty of other topics."

"I know!"

Nix shook her had, "Can you imagine how Wart or Ezskar would react if they would see this?"

Phineas couldn't help but let out a laugh, "I'd actually pay good money to see that!"

Zech meanwhile was sunk down in his seat, his hood covering his head as he wished he could sneak out of there.  This was embarrassing to say the least.  "That...wasn't a good movie."

Nix sighed. "I'll say."

"No kidding." Phin grumbled.

Tero snorted.  "Horrible."

"But the effects were decent!"  Sparks said.

--

--

--

ATUHOR’S NOSE: Hey everyone, Happy April Fools!

So this was a very strange idea I had and wanted to play with.  Some of this story was written by me, but the rest was written using ‘Talk to Transformer’, a kind of computer AI network that finished story prompts you put in.  After watching the madness from Vinny and Joel of Vinesauce when they played with it, I thought this would be perfect for an April Fools story.

As for the ending...yeah, it’s from Avatar: The Last Airbender. It only seemed appropriate.

As ever with these, the story is not in canon with Team Prototype or the AU stories of mine. This was just a little experiment in some madness.

[putschki1969]

Hikaru x SPICE Broadcast 11/8

As promised, here is a rough translation/detailed summary of Hikaru’s live broadcast from today (Nov 08).

The video is currently available in SPICE’s archive but it will be deleted after one week. For everyone who wants to download the interview, here is a google drive link (all credit goes to my friend @mowskyuu​ who kindly sent me the video). Everyone, ENJOY!

Without further ado, let’s get going. 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→ 

We start with Takeshi Kato (TK) introducing himself and his guest Hikaru. TK talks about how this broadcast is going to be about many firsts and about Hikaru‘s upcoming live. Being the nerd she is, Hikaru has prepared a detailed script for herself so she won’t lose track or feel intimidated. Then TK decides to be funny and annoy Hikaru by saying that since they have such a packed schedule he will simply change the entire content of the program so they can talk about anime and games XD

They invite everyone to use the hashtag #HikaruSPICE生放送 on Twitter to ask questions and write comments. Technically people can also comment on Youtube but it’s preferred that everyone uses Twitter. TK once again jokes about abandoning the script and making last minute-changes to mess with Hikaru a little but then he tells her to just relax and say whatever she feels like saying.

Hikaru then introduces her new solo project called H-el-ical// which was officially announced yesterday. TK assumes that the tension must have been quite high and that she must still feel super nervous now that she is doing this public live broadcast. Of course Hikaru confirms this. TK explains that they will have some H-el-ical// songs playing in the background and asks Hikaru what made her want to start this solo project. During her “break-period” she has always had a strong wish of wanting to continue singing, nothing ever changed about that but she had to think a lot about how to continue doing music since she didn’t have a clear idea. So for about half a year she thought about what she wanted to do while working part-time and learning some “life-lessons”/doing some “social studying”. During that time she didn’t write any lyrics although she really wanted to try it (it’s something she has always wanted). She talked a lot with her friends and acquaintances about the different possibilities, if she would be able to find someone who would write/compose music for her (the sort of music she had in her mind) so she could create lyrics for those songs. Then she was introduced to a composer and quickly after she decided to give the whole thing a try. This is how H-el-ical// came to life.

In May her first song got released on Youtube. TK points out that that must have been super weird for her since in the past she had never released music like that. It has always been through CDs or at lives. She must have been super nervous. And YES, she really was. Especially since she wasn’t releasing it under her real name but under the name of H-el-ical// so she had no idea how many people would even listen to that song. After all people were clueless about whose work it was. On the other hand, Hikaru really liked the idea of people coming in with a fresh mind, without any influence and having all these pure impressions.

They then start talking about Hikaru’s stage name H-el-ical// in detail. TK notes that Hikaru’s name was also written with a double slash in yesterday’s announcement. He wonders what the meaning is behind all of that. Hikaru explains that she plans to do her solo work as H-el-ical// and in the meantime she would like to refer to herself as Hikaru// but of course just Hikaru is fine too. For example, she was referred to as simply “Hikaru” in today’s announcement regarding the FictionJunction Station Talk&Live Event.

They begin reading some comments and one viewer points out that the second everyone heard the voice in H-el-ical//’s first song, they all knew for sure that it was Hikaru XD Hikaru laughs and agrees that there probably were some people who knew but they were kind enough to not make direct comments about it to her [I think Hikaru underestimated how many people knew]. We continue with our explanation of Hikaru’s stage name. First of all, “helical” as a normal word means spiral, something that’s always spinning upwards. It also represents a DNA structure which for Hikaru entails life, history and activity. These are the two things she thought about when choosing the word “helical”. Then we have the -el- in the middle which is highlighted. It stands for “elevation”, it’s about progress, about becoming more, about rising above. Last but not least there is the double slash (//) which for Hikaru represents some sort of Q.E.D. = an abbreviation which is placed at the end of a philosophical argument to indicate that the proof or the argument is complete. So to speak it is proof of her existence. This is her simply “being”. TK is impressed by all the thought Hikaru put into this, very otaku-like of her. Hikaru admits that it was very troublesome to come up with all of that. The double slash explanation also applies to her name of course. So Hikaru// literally just means “this is proof of Hikaru existing”.

Hikaru then talks some more about always wanting to sing, that she couldn’t imagine ever stopping. And since this is all so important to her she really wanted her stage name to have a proper meaning behind it. After all, a name is very important. She really put a lot of effort into that.

Back at the time of their first broadcast together Hikaru talked with SPICE and the e plus team because she really wanted to do a live. She told them about the H-el-ical// project, about her collaboration with the composer Gushimiyagi and that she would be joining a new agency. With their help the concert was made possible. SPICE&Co. introduced Hikaru to a couple of people and with just a handful of helpers they managed to make Hikaru’s wish of a concert become reality. Hikaru is still so freaking excited about that.

Hikaru talks about deciding on a setlist and all the other troubles that are related to organising an event like that. TK recalls that even during Kalafina days it was troublesome for Hikaru to do organising stuff like that so it must be so much worse now. Hikaru agrees that she really got to experience all the hardships that come with such a live production. Back in the day Keiko and Wakana would often take on these duties so she felt really grateful but now she had to do it all by herself.

Next up TK mentions the five songs Hikaru has released so far. TK is sure that most of the viewers have already listened to all of them. Hikaru is a bit hesitant, she thinks there will be lots of people who haven’t seen all the MVs because they were released in a relatively short amount of time. They ask the viewers whether or not the have listened to all the songs yet. And OF COURSE, they have!!

A few comments and questions are being read. Nothing exciting except for the person who asks what kind of part-time job Hikaru did during her break. As she already alluded to before, she wanted to experience life properly. In the past she had only ever worked at casual restaurants and such. While that gave her some social skills she wanted to try something else. Since she really loves children she decided to work as a nursery teacher. There she took care of toddlers and children up to five years old. She really loves their innocence. TK is surprised that Hikaru managed to be a waitress in the past, judging by her personality, that must have been really hard for her. Yes, Hikaru confirms that it was hard but she also kinda liked it. For example, she really loved recommending the best dishes and such. But yeah, getting to watch over these little kiddies was a completely new and amazing experience for her. She really learned a lot. She is surprised by how different their way of thinking is and how unique they all are, even the very little ones. We interrupt our talk with a bit of tapioca milk tea because what would Hikaru be without her tapioca milk tea??? XD

Viewers suggest that she should have worked at a tapioca place. Haha, yeah, Hikaru agrees, that would have been amazing. Hikaru then says that they sang a lot at her nursery, that was super fun. And she feels really inspired by that experience. For example, her third song “splendore” was very heavily influenced by the children she worked with. TK thinks it’s interesting that her songs all have a different language title but they will discuss that later. For now they wanna focus on Hikaru’s song writing experience. Hikaru says that it was all about expressing the images and world views that came to mind when she listened to Gushimiyagi’s melodies. She would talk a lot with him and listen to the melody repeatedly to get inspired. TK talks about old Kalafina times, at recordings Hikaru would always dress according to the image she wanted to express, does she still do that? Yes, she does still do that!

Now they focus on the individual songs and have the MVs playing in the background. TK says that her first song “pulsation” had a strong impact on him. Hikaru uses the opportunity to give a shout-out to her amazing artist because her videos are always gorgeous. TK notices that all of her five songs have a completely different atmosphere, they also feel very different to Kalafina’s songs. “pulsation” is about her relationship with music and how her life has been affected (is still being affected) by it. There is a lot of power in the melody, it makes you want to sprint forward so that’s how her lyrics came into existence. It’s about feeling lost and eventually finding your way so you can move on. Hikaru then talks about wanting variety in her songs, she doesn’t want to stick to a single genre, she also likes experimenting with different languages for her titles. She thinks that makes things much more interesting. After all, she has followers from all over the world with so many different interests. It’s in part thanks to all of us that she has made it this far so of course she would want to be versatile and open for everything. This is why she chose the different song titles. Cue to pronunciation guide. How does Hikaru pronounce all of her songs? [it’s kinda funny to see her struggle XD] She goes through all the titles, pronounces them and says what they mean in Japanese.

pulsation => English

Avaricia  => Spanish (Greed) Hikaru says she is always very greedy, in a sense that she can never get enough, she always wants more, she wants to go further.

Splendore => Italian (Sparkling) As she mentioned before, this song was heavily inspired by the children around her. It’s full of child-like wonder and innocence. It has a very fantastical atmosphere.

Amanhecer => Portuguese (Dawn) When she first heard the melody she immediately had to think of quietness and the water surface. There was a sense of love so that’s what she wrote about.

yolcu => Turkish (Traveler) For this song she wanted a very foreign/Middle Eastern/exotic vibe so of course the title had to be a little more exotic as well.

Hikaru hopes that the audience will find something they like among all her songs, everyone has different taste so it’s hard to lke everything but hopefully she can appeal to us with some of her work. These songs are all super special to her and she couldn’t even decide which one she likes most. This is the first time she has ever created something, properly expressed herself, put so much of herself into the music. She is very proud and happy. She is even more happy to hear all the fans saying that they love each and every song and they can’t choose.

One fan asks if Hikaru came up with her logo and yes, she did. But someone else made it a little fancier for her. TK then wants to know whether or not it was hard to record all these songs by herself. Yes, it was!! Some of the songs have different harmonies and she had to sing all of them. She already wonders how she is gonna do it at the live, it’s gonna be super hard to perform some of these songs. Speaking of the live, it’s time to announce the title!! *drumrolls please* The title is => H-el-ical// LIVE 2019  紡 -TSUMUGU- [spinning]

Some info about the date, the changed time, the venue and 2nd round of ticket application. Apparently Hikaru has tried really hard to talk with the live team to make some more room for the audience. Usually the venue has a capacity for around 2400 people, they are making more room by using space that’s usually reserved for equipment and stuff. Hikaru feels like she might have been a bit of a pain in the ass for the organisers but she just wants as many people as possible to be able to attend the concert. So everyone who is still looking for a ticket, please be sure to apply! Application period ends on November 17. Hikaru won’t just be singing her original songs but also some covers and then some...*hint hint* TK asks about why Hikaru chose that particular title for her concert. Hikaru says that from now onwards she would like to share many things with everyone as H-el-ical// (which as we have already established means “spiral”) so “spinning” seemed very fitting to convey that feeling. Also, who she is right now is spun out of everything she has done in the past ten years - including her acitivities as part of Kalafina. So she is just continuing the spinning so to speak. Hikaru can’t wait to sing all of her songs for us. Then we have some more random comments by fans...

Transition to live goods. TK says that he is already looking forward to Hikaru’s Goods Corner since she always did such a good job at their Kalafina lives. We can expect standard goods and stuff that has been suggested to her on twitter. There will also be one item with visuals, a pamphlet!! YAY! And the most important live good...a limited release of H-el-ical//’s first CD!!! BANZAI! Since it’s only a limited number, the CDs might be sold out quickly but she hopes lots of people can get it. There are 8 songs in total on the CD. She has already published five of them but since she wants to sing a lot of songs at the live, she also recorded three more songs which she put on the CD as well. Fans are saying she will surely sell a ton of CDs, someone suggests she should bring 20,000 copies to the live, Hikaru isn’t really convinced that she could ever sell that amount. She says there will probably be around 2,000 copies for sale. Further infos about live goods and such will be released at a later date. But fans can prepare themselves for about ten different items so everyone should look forward to that. Some fans suspect that the goods corner might take very long with so many goods XD Everyone is also super curious about the CD cover. Hikaru says it will be very simple, typical Hikaru style.

Then some info about Hikaru taking part in the FictionJunction Station Fan Club event. Hikaru is very excited to stand on stage together with the members of FictionJunction. After all at the time of the event it will be two years since she last stood together on stage with Keiko.

TK asks what went through her head during her break. Hikaru was hoping people would not forget about her. And the wish to continue singing kept going through her head. She was very confident about that. She spent a lot of time wondering how to bring her dreams to life. She feels super grateful right now because so much has already been realised. This past year she has learned so much that’s important for her life. Of course she also learned a lot during her Kalafina days but there were just a lot of things she didn’t have time for back then so that one-year-break was a great opportunity to learn many things about herself. She originally started Twitter to give something back to the fans who are loyally waiting for her. She is very happy about that so she just wants to share those feelings with everyone by posting regularly. Hikaru goes on to explain that she went from all her life being about Kalafina to doing pretty much nothing so she had a lot of time to think about everything. This was another reason she started her Twitter account. She wanted to grow as a person and do things she might have not done in the past.

They then read lots of random comments related to Kalafina since there is no denying that Hikaru’s fans are pretty much all from her Kalafina days, Hikaru doesn’t really say much, I guess she doesn’t know what she is supposed to say. It’s slightly awkward but yeah...Someone then asks if Hikaru can do a birthday greeting for all the viewers who are celebrating their b-day today. She does! TK then realises that it’s Hikaru’s twitter anniversary since she started her account last autumn. It’s also slowly time to wrap up the video. TK informs us that the video will be archived for one week and then it will be deleted (after getting a confirmation by Hikaru’s manager in the back). People are asking for Hikaru to sing something but unfortunately, there is no time. We will get lots of her singing at the live XD A fan asks her to come to Toyama to do a live. She REALLY wants to but it’s gonna take a while. There is some talk about when she first started Twitter and no one believed it was her so she had to upload a video to prove her identity.

Hikaru has prepared a final message for the fans. from now on she hopes to create lots of music as H-el-ical// and she wants to share it with all of us. Her first step in this new direction is the live on Dec 1. In the future she would like to create something from that base of H-el-ical//* and continue onwards with everyone [*Note: Hikaru mistakenly says Kalafina here instead of H-el-ical//. Obviously she is still used to saying this sort of stuff with Kalafina in mind XD She is later corrected] She is super embarrassed. OF COURSE she meant H-el-ical//’s base. With 10 years of Kalafina there is no way you can say that’s just a base! 10 years is a lot of baggage after all. She was obviously referring to her first steps as H-el-cal//.

Meanwhile they are once again promoting Hikaru’s upcoming live and teasing another live in the near future. Hikaru says that her agency might already be planning something *hint hint*

SPICE have prepared a little present for one of the viewers. H-el-ical//’s very first signature. For one lucky winner. Looking something like this but written by Hikaru of course.

To be eligible for this giveaway you have to follow the @spice_anige account on Twitter. You will be informed via DM if you won. Then some final promo work and a final greeting last by Hikaru.

[cgmayra]

Do you know the song "Your Reality" from Doki Doki Literature Club? I think the last lines ("Is it love if I take you, or is it love if I set you free?", "If I can't hear the sound of your heart beat, What do you call love in your reality? And in your reality, if I don't know how to love you I'll leave you be") could really suit Amy's feelings towards Sonic, so maybe a prompt loosely based off Your Reality?

Loosely? Lol, I was strugglingknowing how to interpret ‘loosely’ until I got a really good idea I’d like toshare with you. (x) Song I used.

One, if you have read my Fanfiction:Sonic IRL, this may make more sense.

Two, if not, no fear! Let me explain.

This is the data of Amy Rose, she’sobserving how SEGA is handling her and Sonic’s interactions and roles in thegames starting from Sonic CD forward. She’s noticing things changing and now,the company is wondering if they should make Sonic a new love interest, or atleast redesign Amy into something ‘more modern audiences would appreciate’. Shedoesn’t understand this, and so this is her thoughts and feelings.

IT’S MEANT TO BE AS CRYPTIC AS THE SONG.Lol So it’s okay if you’re a little like- “What?” because I was trying to stickto the theme of the music and lyrics, plus the game’s darker tones too.

Enjoy the prompt~

Prompt:

It was so exciting to be alive! Ihad code and software, a look and design! My base was flawless and my emotionsspot on! I was something new and beautiful, but best of all, I wasn’t alone.

There was this hero. They said heneeded me, so I happily took my place racing after him.

I could see it. The future for us two.What lay in store spiraled in fantasies of us being together forever, of awhole reality made just for us.

I remember sitting down after beingsaved, setting my head to his shoulder, and him just allowing me to sit therewhile the young child recorded his score and turned the console off.

I remember watching that world turnoff, our world remaining in a dark but quiet peace. I would close my eyes, feelinghim turn his head to me. I knew in my heart he was saying that it was alright,we’d be racing on the rolling hills soon again. That I never needed to worryabout the dark.

The world was in my hands then. Icouldn’t have been happier.

But the games continued, anexciting journey for me and Sonic. I got a new name, Amy. It was a pretty name,I liked it very much.

I got a new body, and it wasperfect. I followed the script as if it was written by my own hand, never waveringfrom it. I always trusted it was in line with my feelings and knew the truethoughts of my heart.

I thought he knew the true thoughtsof my heart.

Then the player began to makechoices… After the company made choices…

There was someone new. She was designedfor him. I didn’t understand, but I played my part. I trusted the pen. Itrusted the program.

But… What will it take… just tofind that special day? That day where I can rest on Sonic’s shoulder again, theconsole and chaos of code turning off for a split second… his new voice tellingme not to be afraid of the dark.

Things changed after her. She wasnever heard of again. Things reset, it seems. Other characters were filling myroles… others were by Sonic’s side, and I was left as extra code to litter thebackground.

Everything Sonic did, everyone seemedto have fun. Everything Sonic performed, his jumps and spin-dashes, his incredibleacrobatics and punchlines… it seemed funnier with friends, but I began to bedistant from him, from the player, from the company, in general…

Then… I wasn’t there.

Everything was black inside the computer.Storage. I huddled up and felt the new body and wondered what this meant. Istill trusted the pen. I still believed I was created to chase after Sonic. Butwhat if my reality wasn’t his own? What if he saw everything differently?

The games started having me emoteless and less. After a while, I wondered why and questioned my own feelingsand reasons for being in his world.

But I see him smile at me, and I don’tneed words to explain it anymore. I just know. I know the pen is still writingfor me. It’s just… taking its sweet time, I guess.

“Careful.” They would say to me.

Why?

“Not too close.”

I don’t understand.

“Make her more like this.”

What does that mean?

“We can’t do that.”

But I was made to do that…

If his world won’t write me anending,… What will it take, just for me to have it all back again?

So many different versions of me. Iasked Sonic what all the fuss was about. “A new you.” He responded, and thatwas all.

“Do you want a new me?” I had towait for his response. How long does it take him to think about me? How longdoes it take him to realize I asked him another question.

He said he didn’t really know whatthey wanted from him, but he didn’t worry about it, and neither should I.

…But what if they only write me asme? What if your words weren’t so bitter to me? What if my world wasn’t so harshand limiting? Wasn’t this brand meant to be all about being free?

Was I me? Was I what they wanted meto be? Was I kind? Was I not right, so should I step aside?

If I can’t have you, does that meanI have to give you away?

If I can keep what I have, doesthat mean I’m being selfish and holding you back?

I don’t really know anymore whatthe company wants from me, what they ask of you, or if I’m supposed to staybehind you and cheer you on.

I used to run.

I used to chase you.

I used to talk to you, directly.

But if I don’t know how to love,and if this isn’t love, then…

Does that mean, in your world, Ihave to let you go?

I suppose, if that’s what the penwrites, then I have to let you go…

I wish I had a pen.

Or at least…

The ink.

I would coat myself in it anddisappear into the black, that peaceful sleep, until someone decides that AmyRose should turn on again.

For how can a program write loveinto their reality?

If I can’t follow my code, then doI not know how I fit in your reality?

I can’t choose myself, I mustfollow what they write.

“What do you think love is,… inyour reality?” I asked sweetly, watching the computer close as he spoke onelast thing.

“If it’s truly my reality, and Idon’t know how to love you, then I’ll leave you be.” And then a cocky smile andcharming wink, as though everything would be okay.

Buteverything went black.

Computer shutting down…please wait. Do not turn off the computer…

(The song came off kinda sad to me.So I went with the feeling of Amy’s optimistic ‘poppy’ personality and mingledit with the despair in the song and game’s theme. Hope you enjoy!)

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 14

Chapter 14: Send Out an S.O.S.

The Following Monday Night

Mera, Evening, 7:45 PM

           The trainer’s room was where it always was, and my things were spread out exactly as I preferred them. All my necessary tools were within arm’s reach, easy to access should any of the superstars need my help. I was never part of the scripted trainer visits—they kept me in reserve for those who were really injured. For the most part, even the fans knew that when I came to the ring, something was really wrong.

           I spent a lot of time alone in that room most nights. Sure, there were the times when someone got a little overzealous and either hurt themselves or someone else. But for the most part, I was just there to deal with general sports injuries and required stretching from their physical therapists. Right before matches, there was a steady trickle of superstars. Sometimes right after if someone just needed help with a locked-up muscle.

           Otherwise… it was just me and four walls. I kept books with me, so sometimes I would read. Sometimes I had notes or medical records to update for some of the superstars who I saw on a regular basis. Most of the time, thought, it was just my thoughts and me.

           With a major pay-per-view coming up, the higher ups were being more careful about the health of their superstars who were set to be big draws. Seth was on the books as going after the Universal Championship at Wrestlemania, so everyone was being particularly careful about his knee and his back.

           Which meant he was required to see me before and after his matches from now until Wrestlemania was over. Great, I thought, looking at the note in his medical chart. Just great.

           I thought back to the Seth I knew as a kid—back when everyone called him Colby or Brandon’s little brother. He had been so sweet and kind. In high school, he was charming and smart. He’d loved wrestling, putting on shows in his front yard with his friends, covering his basement bedroom in a thousand different names and slogans. But there had been a time—when he was Tyler Black in the ring and Colby everywhere else—when we’d been inseparable. When he’d wanted nothing more than to have me at his side, chasing that dream with him.

           We graduated high school. I went to college, fast-tracking through an athletic training program—doing homework by flashlight driving from town to town on the weekends to watch him compete. Forty-thousand dollars of debt to get a degree and a certification to do a job that guaranteed I could be with him wherever he went. Independent wrestling companies didn’t always have fantastic care for their athletes, and I was an added bonus that came along when someone signed Tyler Black. And those hadn’t been bad days.

           Crappy apartments, cheap hotels, food that was never that good and half the time cold, long drives and late nights. That had been my life from 18 to 29—eleven years of following him across the world with one company after the other. WWE had made it a little easier with better pay, a nicer apartment, more stability. But it had also created Seth Rollins. He was cocky, self-assured, and selfish. Even though he wore the same face as my childhood Colby, it had been Seth who had ripped my heart into pieces.

           Someone knocked on the door. I glanced at my watch, realized that it must have been him. His match started in forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for me to give him a decent once over to ensure that nothing was of concern before he got in the ring. And, hopefully, it could be quick enough that we didn’t have to talk much.

           I crossed the room, opened the door. Seth stood there with that annoyingly cocky look on his face, already dressed out in his gear. I fought down the pounding of my heart, the nausea that burned in my throat. “You know the drill,” I said, emotionless as he passed close by.

           He hopped up on the table, flopping on to his stomach. I sighed and rubbed my hands together to warm them. It was best to just get this over with as fast as possible.

           “Any pain today?” The words came out flat. For just about everyone else, I had a pretty good bedside manner. For Seth, it was all about getting him in and out without too many insults and tears.

           “Tight on the left. You know how it gets sometimes,” he said with a knowing something in his voice. He turned his head toward me, pillowing his cheek on his crossed forearms. “Too much strain, you know.”

           I forced my thoughts away from memories of the things throughout the years had triggered his aching back. “Tell me when it hurts.”

 Dean, Evening, 7:55 PM

           I cracked my knuckles, swung my arms to warm up my shoulders. I wasn’t scheduled until the second hour of the show, and I wanted to sit with Mera for a while. It was amazing to me that she had become so perfectly integrated into my life that her presence made me feel calm in a way that nothing did.

           As I came down the hallway, I could hear her voice from the trainer’s room. Her tone was even, yet something seemed off. She sounded carefully controlled, clipped. I knew the rules—don’t go into the trainer’s room when someone else was already there—privacy and all that. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t wait outside just in case.

           “Use the heat before and after on the back. Rest it twenty-four hours between every exertion. That means matches or workouts. You need to spread it out so that you can even make it to Wrestlemania.”

           It took a moment for the response to come. When it did, my blood ran cold. The beast in my chest roared, desperate to get into the room, to keep her safe, to protect her heart.

           “What was that treatment you used to do?” The words themselves were innocent, but I knew there was something more to his intent. “It used to work so well.”

           “Call a masseuse,” she snapped back. “That’s not part of my job.”

           Breathe, I told that primal thing inside me. It writhed in anger and sheer protective instinct. It was like it could sense her discomfort. I watched the door, wishing I could see through it. She was capable, intelligent, and stronger than any woman I’d ever met, and yet all I could think to do was to do everything I could to protect her from even the simplest pain.

           The room went quiet. I paced, the worst possible scenarios playing through my mind.

           “They never know how to do it. It’s either too much or not enough pressure. You’ve always been able to fix it,” Seth said in a tone that sounded both pouting and deceiving. “This is my big shot, Mera. Help me out here.”

           Her visage floated into my mind. I could see the way her liquid gold eyes blurred with guilt, how she might look at him with her lips pressed into a line, her face a mask of discomfort and unhappiness. I’d watched her long enough to know how her emotions played over her features, how her sadness, pain, and shame could bend her into someone that gave away her best self to cater to another.

           I knew there were tears in her eyes when she spoke. Just as I knew the answer before she even gave it. “Okay.”  

           The primal thing in my chest surprised me with the ferocity of its jealousy. It dug in, tried to drive me to bust through the door, to drag her away and remind her that she was mine and I was hers.

           It took nearly every ounce of my will to keep myself in control. My feet picked up their pacing, taking me further away from the trainer’s room. It was as much for my peace of mind as it was for her privacy. Mera was my wife, regardless of how long it had been. There was nothing within me that could distrust her.

           Seth Rollins was another story. In the last week, I’d seen my tag partner and brother in a new light—as a man who was self-centered, self-absorbed, and selfish. While I didn’t know the details of their relationship, I had pieced together enough to know that Seth had broken her heart completely. The fact that he seemed to be using their history to get what he wanted made my blood run cold.

 Mera, Evening, 8:14 PM

           I washed my hands in the sink, making sure to scrub the Icy-Hot from my fingers. The tremble that ran through them made me feel sick, stomach turning over as I tried to get myself under control. I hated the way that old feelings came rushing back with the memories of caring for Seth back when he had been Colby and Tyler. Some part of me—a traitorous corner of my heart that reveled in masochism it seemed—still thought there was some good in him, a piece of the old version of the man that I’d known.

           My back was turned to Seth as he pulled his shirt back on. The rustle of cloth and the creaking of the padded table let me know that he was up and moving. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried my hands aggressively, hoping to hide their shaking. As I tossed them in the trash can, I stepped over to the WWE-issued laptop with the superstar’s medical records on it.

           “Knee looks good. Heat on the back twice a day, 20 minutes each time. Strenuous activity only every other day, Monday through Saturday. Full rest on every off day until the match,” I said over my shoulder, already pulling up his medical chart. Once those directions were in his record, booking would have no choice but to go easy on him—perhaps easier than they already were.

           Footsteps scuffed across the floor. Flesh met metal, then a heavy sigh. “You know Vegas weddings aren’t binding after 30 days, don’t you? Didn’t Dean tell you?”

           The door whined on its hinges. The sound of it thudding back against the frame echoed the weight that slammed against my heart. Every fiber of my being suddenly yearned for Dean, to confess everything that I felt—the confusion and fear. I tried desperately to push away the seed that Seth had tried to plant. After all, Dean and I had already talked about having a real ceremony of some fashion.

           I felt my throat close with tears as I realized there was a ticking clock on our marriage.

 Dean, Evening, 8:20 PM

           I watched from down the hall as Seth walked away from the trainer’s room. There was a smirk on his face that made me wonder what I’d missed while I’d let my feet carry me around the backstage area. That beast inside me roared, sent adrenaline flooding my veins, screaming commands to find and protect what was mine.

           Reaching for the door, I heard her sobs. The door banged against the wall as I swept her into my arms. My fingers tangled in her hair. Silently, I swore. I’m going to slaughter him.

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[ohrosalinds]

katherine mcnamara. genderfluid. they/them.  ／  rosalind cox just pulled up blasting fly by hilary duff — that song is so them! you know, for a twenty-four year old singer & actor, i’ve heard they’re really -capricious, but that they make up for it by being so +gregarious. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say plaid shirts open with a white shirt underneath, thrift shop knick knacks, the smell of cinnamon, and childhood stardom. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble! ( vc: hilary duff, bridgit mendler & ana golja )

rosalind’s basically the same as they were the last time i played them, but i’ve edited a couple of things.  so here’s their new intro u know the drill like this to plot w them.  

rosalind’s 24, their birthday just passed at the beginning of the month.  

rosalind was born to laurel whittmore-cox on august fifth during a summer rainstorm.  rosalind’s father died months before their birth and they still to this day do not know much about him.  but they never minded.  their mom, and their maternal grandfather gus were more than enough.  

rosalind was “discovered” at the age of two.  they were at their mother’s office ( laurel’s a producer for movies & tv shows ) and it started a career for the redheaded baby.  mostly print ads for a while, a couple of tv shows and movies but nothing big.  that is until rosalind was nine years old and was cast as the titular role in disney’s lizzie mcguire.  and they dyed their hair blonde for the role. 

honestly, it was a dream.  rosalind’s mother was an executive producer and rosalind really loved playing lizzie.  it was her favorite thing.  she was excited to go to work every day.  her friends were great.  she loved her tv family.  and it was fun playing a role that really felt at home, as she was going through similar things as lizzie at the time of the show.  since rosalind was in middle school at the time when lizzie was airing.  

when rosalind was eleven years old ( and four months, not that that’s a needed detail ) they were going through this period of discovery.  figuring out who she wanted to be, as lizzie’s final season was filming.  they had just found music as an outlet and were working on writing and coming up with their own things, hoping to release something after lizzie ended.  

during this time rosalind read something and was watching a lot of television and something struck the blonde.  following research and time of discovery, rosalind found out about the term genderfluid.  and after reading about it and learning more.  it was like a lightbulb moment and they were like “this is it.  that’s me.”  and they decided to start using they/them pronouns because it felt right. 

rosalind told their family over dinner one night and while both laurel and gus were confused, they adjusted well.  it took laurel until rosalind was seventeen years old to finally not use “she/her” accidentally.  

but rosalind had this whole show riding on their shoulders and they just knew that this coming out was not going to be good.  people would talk and things would not end well for them, it could ruin the end of the series.  it was going to be a scandal, because it went against what the producers and execs wanted for their show’s star.  and, of course, lizzie was one of the number one shows on children’s programming right then too.  while everything was going on, still working on the final season, the problem was also that rosalind didn’t want to not use their pronouns because it’s who they are.  

so rosalind came out to the cast and the crew, to people whom they considered family.  it was a slow thing, not a big announcement, and people were mostly accepting.  by the end of the series filming, most of the people they worked with every day had adjusted to using the proper pronouns most of the time.   

rosalind thought they were finally free of the station and the pushy execs who only wanted their agenda pushed forward, other than working still with their record label for this music they had been creating.  but, as luck would have it, the producers and executives had gotten together to bring about a feature film for the show.  

and rosalind couldn’t say no, lizzie was still very much a part of who they were.  and getting to work with the people again ( even so soon after saying goodbye ) it was something they wanted to do.  

so after the small “break”, almost thirteen year old rosalind went off to italy to film this movie.  ( fact: they turned 13 while filming in italy ).

and while they were there with the cast and crew and people who loved and supported them, someone back home leaked their gender pronouns and caused a big stink.  

executives flew in when they were almost finished with filming and it was a big to do.  rosalind was scheduled to go on a tour after the film finished filming since their album was almost completed.  but the executives were nervous about what everything would be.  it was a lot of meetings and rosalind had to deal with the pressure of filming the movie and worrying about their own future and if the film they, and everyone else, worked so hard on would be released.  

the company did what they do best and decided that after the movie, rosalind should go on tour for their music right away.  so rosalind was rushed to a local studio to finish the final touches of the album, which was released before the film had finished.  

despite the immense pressure, rosalind was happy.  they were doing what they loved, writing music, acting, and singing.  

of course, going on a big tour meant rules and guidelines from the corporation.  a lot of them restricting what rosalind could say and talk about in interviews, which they had done before, but never to this same degree. now rosalind was completely restricted.  in fact, they had to read from a script and they had a personal handler from the company with them at all times. 

it didn’t help that they were touring for music on top of doing press for the lizzie film.  

it should have been the time of their life.  it really should have, but alas.  it was a time where rosalind was sleeping less and less every night and working on finding themself in the little spare time they had.  

it was building up a lot, taking a toll on the young teen.  

rosalind’s biggest personal problem with the press was that everyone who interviewed them was using she/her pronouns and completely ignoring the fact they’d even stated a preference for using they/them.  

it led to them having a bit of a …. MELTDOWN during an interview when they were asked a pretty terrible question.

footage went viral on tmz and mtv of rosalind pulling off their microphone in the middle of an interview, irate and yelling at who people later found out was their disney appointed handler,  “i’m sick of using the wrong pronouns for this bullshit! it’s not fair!”

the footage can still be found on multiple websites, and people tend to talk about it a lot still.  

the next thing they knew, the second half of the tour was cancelled, “creative differences” had been cited.  however, rosalind was still under contract with the record label, and even though they were basically blacklisted from working for quite some time, rosalind had to work on new music for a company that didn’t want them.  

rosalind released a second album soon after the end of the tour.  once their duties in the contract were finished and all obligations filled--rosalind left the company and went to “normal life”.  

the teen -- a redhead now, the blonde hair finally gone ( people called it shedding the disney baggage ) -- left los angeles to live with their grandpa gus outside of boston.  they maintained a job working at gus’ thrift/antique shop the little things.  and did their best to maintain a regular teenage existence.  which is hard when you spent your childhood on film.  

for a while, rosalind did a youtube channel in their later high school years.  sometimes they still post, but it’s sporadic if anything.  they used to do a lot of q&a videos.  they would often talk about working on music and talking about their gender identity and sexuality ( they’re pansexual ).  they wanted to have a voice for themselves, and doing something like that was the best way to do that. 

with everything, rosalind kept from saying anything outwardly bad about their old parent company.  people never understood why--when it was clear that they had been terribly unhappy and troubled at the old company.  

recently, rosalind has opened up about it.  they experienced a lot of wrongdoings from the company in their childhood, given the company’s outright display of their gender identity and how it didn’t fit with the image.  but rosalind still wished nothing but the best for the people whom they’d worked with.  there was nothing that the cast & crew had done wrong to them.  the people with whom they spent so many hours of their formative years were nothing but excellent and kind and hardworking people.  

they’re a people person, loving to be around other people.  but they’re also always a bit nervous about big crowds.  idk what it is.  one on one they’re amazing and chatty, but crowds make them nervous?  but stage stuff is wonderful? they can definitely hold themselves in a crowd or captivate a room.  

they’ve done a handful of made for television movies in the recent years.  recently they’ve released new music after a long period of nothing.  they did an extended play belong and a full length album then & now.  ( rosalind’s early music is canon hilary duff ie metamorphasis and hilary, which for rp purposes is called rosalind )  

rosalind is currently labelless.  they haven’t been with a parent label since everything at their old one blew up.  

they have a fear of being controlled by any company if they were to work for a specific label again, so they haven’t cared to look for one.  

maybe they’ll tour again in the future?? who knows.  

rosalind was recently cast to play DAPHNE BLAKE in an upcoming live action scooby doo television series.