#learning to care and be humble was a lesson she desperately needed and she fucking steals her own narrative conclusion from herself

[tendorksclasspecting]

Rose and Dave both gain their godhood rejecting their roles on a suicide mission to blow up the sun and that's fabulous, I love it. But Rose gets the short end of the stick attention-wise both before on her planet and after on the meteor.

When Rose goes grimdark, I wish she did more with her planet than trash it & leave. When Dave rejects his role he gets an important broken sword and figures out stable time loops, and then they scratch their session on his planet. Rose goes Grimdark from unlocking her seer powers and immediately rejecting them, but then her planet doesn't really get addressed at all after she goes Grimdark. She could have ridden that thing like a cue ball into the green sun. She could have killed her planet and resurrected an undead army of later-relevant consorts. She could have no-clipped to Cetus, had an argument, and banished her to the Furthest Ring leaving LOLAR inky and lightless and invisible to Lord English for use fighting him later. Rose was supposed to be a beautiful tool but she wanted to be a weapon, and she never narratively gets to be without utterly destroying herself.

On the meteor, I wish we got more of her being catty as her sense of purpose falls apart post suicide mission - I wish we'd seen her struggle instead of just being told oops Rose is an alcoholic now. I wish we'd gotten more of her falling in love with Kanaya, this person who uses her needles and teeth to clothe and protect. Of them understanding themselves better because of each other. Of them transitioning (maybe through addiction) from the violent necessities of the game to plans for their future, for what the Mother Grub would need and how to combine their cultures, deciding who they want to be. But Rose kind of just gets sidelined into the background of Dave and Karkat and Terezi, and that's a fucking shame.

Rose is a character with so much depth and we got cheated out of seeing her make the final decisions of what her arc is and who she wants to be, which imo is the whole point of her character arc.

[dave rejects his assigned role] woww this says so much and is so interesting and awesome i am suddenly a master of analysis [rose rejects her assigned role] omg i cant belive hussie made this unintentional oversight thats really stupid rose is sooo boring

[plush-rabbit]

Behave Yourself

Request: Hmmm... I'm just gonna request this. Chrono teaching Kai's sister a lesson because she's bratty and doesn't listen to him- make it smutty if you want. Love your blog btw! (˘³˘)♥

Warnings: dub-con

Word Count: 3.3K

A/N: Chrono time!! I really have fun with him because he wasn’t like properly introduced as a character and i like to think he would be a mix of sleazy and sweet

You can feel his eyes on you. Since Hari entered the room, he’s kept track of you. He’s watched as you swivel side to side in your chair, shuffled around and played on your phone all while your brother talked about some nonsense pertaining to the Shie Hassaikai. You’ve only responded to him by giving him a raise of the brows, slightly bothered by the way that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Overhaul,” Kurono states, standing from his seat and gaining the attention from the rest of the attendants, “is there a reason why they’re here?” He keeps his gaze on you, disdain etched into his words.

“They’re part of us. Why wouldn’t they be here?” Overhaul asks, leaning back into his chair. The toe of his shoe knocks against the leg of your chair and you stop moving, giving him a small grin. “If you rather not be in the same room as them, then go ahead and leave Kurono.” To emphasize his point, a gloved hand is raised and is gestured to the door.

A triumphant smile reaches your face. You puff out your chest, staring at him through a gleeful stare. “Ha,” you spit out, the smile ever growing. “He likes me better.” you stick out your tongue, moving your chair closer to your brother. You sit tall, your eyes piercing into his, pride the only thing that you can feel course through your body as your brother places a hand on your shoulder to quiet you down.

“Quiet.” His hand tightens around your shoulder. “Am I allowed to continue now?” He stares at Kurono through narrowed eyes.

Giving you one last stare, Kurono sits down. You roll your eyes, deciding to humble the dog that sits below you. “You know Kai-” you turn to face him, pulling his hand away from you- “if I’m that much of a bother for him, then I have no problem leaving. I was up so late last night that I might as well go and sleep a bit more.” All he does is wave his hand, excusing you from the meeting. You stand from the chair, pulling down on your skirt and sticking your tongue out to Kurono once more, before walking away.

-

All you had to do was drop off paperwork for Kurono to sign. You didn’t know why Kai had to send you off as if you were some intern, but you did so. And now you’re here, scowling at the man in front of you, who spits insults at you. You stand in front of him with your arms crossed, a headache already beginning to form.

“You’re a damn bitch, is what you are,” he hisses, stepping closer to you, his cheeks red with anger.

“Oh fuck you,” you spit out. “Call me a bitch all you want but we all know you’re just some pussy who doesn’t even have the balls to go tell me that in front of Kai. Oh-” you mockingly cover your mouth with the tips of your fingers- “I meant Overhaul. Because you’re not supposed to address him any other way, right? You’re just his little lackey. You may think of yourself as his right hand man, but guess what? I am. I’m the one he tells everything to, not you. So go fuck yourself Kurono.”

He grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him. You stumble in your step and press against his chest. “You should learn to respect those older than you.” His grip tightens around you. “You’ve been nothing but a brat. Hasn’t anyone taught you manners?” You pull your wrist away from him, and hold it gingerly in your hand. “Or have you been fucking them on the side that none of them care?”

“You have no right to talk to me like that!” You snap, stepping closer to him and pointing your finger into his chest. “You’re just some self-centered prick who thinks he’s better than others. Guess what? You have a quirk! You’re some damn hypocrite and the first bullet that’s stable will go to you.” Your smile turns cruel, your gaze focused on him. “I’m sure Kai would agree if he found out that's how you were talking to me.”

You make your way to leave, the papers that he had to sign be damned. You were too angry to stay focused, too full of rage to actually hit him where it hurts. You weren’t actually going to tell your older brother, you just needed to leave. To stop hearing his voice and stop feeling his eyes on you.

A hand grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you back as you yelp. Your back makes contact with the edge of the desk, your hands going to hold you study. You look at him in a mix of horror and rage, baring your teeth to scare him away from you. His hand covers your mouth, and his nails dig into your cheeks when you lick his hand, so desperate to push him away. Your legs move, trying to kick him away and he places his thigh between your two legs. You try to push yourself away, his stormy gray eyes narrowing and darkening the longer they focus on you. His thigh rubs against your sex and you spit muted curses through his hand.

“Get off of me,” you hiss, trying to push him away, ignoring his shushing and demands of you to be quiet. “You’re a fucking creep.”

You’re tossed onto his desk, crying out with the harsh contact. You take a harsh intake of air, your muscles tensing and falling limp in the same second. “Now,” his hair pierces through your skin, blood trickling down your thigh, “remember to be quiet, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want people to come in wondering why you're moaning like a whore.” His hand squishes your cheeks together, your lips pursed and mouth forming an oval. His eyes narrow, hair slowly receding back into place as you’re forced to sit up, his hand on your lower back, arching your chest into him. You try to gather all the hate that you can into your gaze, cheeks flushed and ears dusted in a dark hue. “Don’t give me that look. After all, I was the one who gave you the choice to start behaving and you’re the one who decided to throw that back at me.” His hand lets go and you’re dropped back onto the desk, your face scrunching up in pain and your upper lip curling upwards. “Oops, sorry,” he apologizes with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’ll go in smoothly, the last thing I would want is to clean up a mess of yours. After all-” his hands are brushing down your side, past your shirt and against the hem of your skirt- “I’m not your brother. I have no real obligation to clean something of yours.” His knuckles brush against your thighs, tipped with red as they hold the fabric of your skirt in his hands, lifting it upwards to reveal your intimates. The muscles in your legs squeeze, your body burning as he lowers himself, his breath cool as it breathes against your covered sex. “You should consider yourself lucky that I even want to do this.”

Your sex pulses, anxiety coursing through your body, your heart beating in your cunt with his tongue so close to it. His tongue is flat as it presses against the cotton, dipping it with his spit and furthering it with your arousal that beads out cautiously. You try to clench your hands but you are unable to do so. You are still in front of him, feeling as his hands travel over your thighs, the cotton growing wet with each suckle.

Your underwear is pulled down, around your ankles it hangs as hot breath fans against your bare sex. His tongue laps around you, passing your folds, teasing against your entrance with the tip of his tongue, sweet trickles of your arousal drip and latch onto his tongue. He pushes in, his tongue scoop and swallowing your arousal, and you can hear him release a sigh.

“Who knew some brat would have a sweet tasting cunt,” he muses, his thumb pressing against your clit. “Huh, you tried playing so tough but would you look at this-” he rolls your pearl around, your body growing hot and a tight coil beginning to wrap around your body- “you’re actually turned on from this. What a pervert you are.” he kisses your sex, his tongue passing your folds. Despite being still, your body still reacts, your cunt pulsing, and breaths growing shallow. “Don’t tell me you’re already so close with just a couple of licks? No wonder you’re such a brat. You’ve never been fucked before, hm?” His tongue is thin and slimy, pushing inside of you and squirming inside of you.

“I hate you,” you hiss out, your leg twitching in response. “Calling me a pervert when you’re the one who froze me.” Every word is an effort, one that tires you out and makes you huff and puff at the end. “What is this? Some sort of hate-fuck?” You give out a bitter laugh. “It’s a pity, you’re actually handsome but still no one wants to fuck you because fo your filthy attitude.”

You yelp, your mouth closing and lips pulling into a thin line when his lips suckle against your fold, pulling in the plump fat and leaving it marked with his teeth. You whine in horror, choking against your own spit, your eyes wide as you focus on the light that blinds you from above. He kisses against the skin, blowing cool air on you, his lips wrapping around your pulsing clit, sucking on it. You cry out, snapping your mouth shut and giving out a soft whine. Even though there’s no reason to, he holds you down with his hands, the point of his tongue pushing your erect clit around, flicking it with his tongue and suckling on it. The pressure becomes too much, your muscles tensing but being unable to move it becomes all frustrating. You want to squirm away form him, to remoe his mouth away from your sex and end the building pressure. WIth a pop, he releases you from his mouth. You’re left unsatisfied and disgusted.

His lips are pressed against yours, his tongue sweet as it fills your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut, a frown on your lips when you realize that you’re tasting yourself, his hands cupping your face as his cock rubs against your folds, pressing close against your pulsing clit, his cockhead teasing at the rim of your entrance.

He pulls away, a thin string of saliva connecting his mouth to yours. Stormy eyes look down at you, his gaze curious as he watches you desperately try to move, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “Oh come on,” he mutters, his knuckles brush against the side of your face tenderly, catching a tear that curves down your face. His knuckles are cold compared to your skin. “Don’t cry- there’s no reason for that. I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? I could be a big, bad scary man just thrusting my cock into this sweet pussy of yours-” his hand that isn’t touching your face cups your cunt at his words, warmth seeping onto his hand in heavy strands- “but I rather have you enjoy it. See?” His smile is gentle, his head tilting in a patronizing way, as a finger inserts itself inside of your cunt, nestling it’s way deep into your warm embrace. “You’re already so wet, and all I had to do was kiss you.” He leans down, the tip of his nose ghosting above yours, his breath thin with peppermint and your arousal as he nudges your head in place to stare at him. “I hope that you know this is a punishment for you. You’ve been acting too cocky, too full of yourself for blood relations. Remember who the fuck you belong to, okay? Because it isn’t to the Shie Hassaikai or even to Overhaul-” his nails embed themselves into your cheeks- “it’s to me. If I have to fuck you raw to have you understand your place, then so fucking be it. I’ll make you cry and that’s a promise.”

He turns you on your side, a leg lifted into the air and hooked over his shoulder, the other falling past the edge of his desk. His hands returning to wrap around your upper thigh, his face leaning close to yours and in this position, you can feel his cock press further into your inner sex. Your eyes close, your muscles clenching and tightening around his cock, your arms cushion under your head, tears falling onto your forearms. You try to hide your face, your breath ragged and chest heaving. Your muscles are tense, sore from being positioned for so long in one setting.

“Kurono, please, my body hurts,” you whisper, looking up at him through a teary expression. “I’m already crying, just please.”

He stares at you blankly for a moment, but then the corners of his mouth start to rise, a sick grin taking over his features. “Well, would you look at that. Even the brat can beg with a cock stuff inside of them.” A hand leaves your thigh and grabs onto your chin. “I have to say, tears really do suit you.” His touch on you softens, his fingertips now squishing over where his nails had marked you. “You must not hate this, because you’re already clinging to my cock. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that I leave you nice and full once I’m done.” His cock slides out of you, a warm trail leaving you empty as his cockhead is kissed against your rim. “I’ll make sure it feels good for me.”

“Kurono-” You yelp as he thrusts himself inside of you, your eyes going wide and body tensing. It’s a dull pain that courses throughout your body, wrapping tight and squeezing around your stomach. “Ah-!” Your eyes squeeze shut with every thrust of his cock inside of your cunt. You try to force yourself to calm down, to not let him take notice of how your cunt throbs with every thrust. “Hari- Please, I’m- Oh fuck!” You moan out, tilting your head forward, eyes squeezed shut as colors begin to burst. “I promise to- promise to stop, just please,” you moan out, embarrassment settling deep in you at the sad show of enjoyment that you are receiving from him.

“You silly, little thing,” he grunts, pounding into your cunt merciless, harsh clicking sounds filling the room with every squeak of the desk. “I’m supposed to believe that? How fucking dumb do you think I am, huh?” Anger is faint on his words, but his actions speak louder and he reaches under your shirt, twisting harshly at a pert nipple. You squeal in response, your sound cut off by his hand clamping down on your mouth. “Shut up,” he hisses. “How desperate are you to have people walk in and see me fuck you? Huh? You want everyone to come in and watch me ruin your pussy? Is that it?” You shake your head. “Then shut up.”

He holds tightly onto your thigh, pushing himself to the base of his cock, shaping your walls to fit him. Your tears touch his hands and his hand is wet with your spit. It’s a simple hate-fuck, one where he hurts you, defiling you over his desk like you were some sort of toy. However, you’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t enjoy it. Or rather your body enjoying it while you lay there as his cock curves so sweetly to hit against a certain spot. You can feel him press deep inside of you, his own hair sticking to his face and his cheeks and the tip of his nose rimmed with red. He pants heavily, his hand falling from your mouth and falling to your throat, curving to the back of it and pulling you close to him.

Your mouth is slack, the tip of your tongue pressed against his shoulder. Your legs are starting to burn, the joints and tension starting to become too much, a far sharper pain than anything he’s subjected you to recently. In fear from what will happen if you speak out, you remain shut, trying to milk his cock so he could release you, your eyes closing and body feeling heavy. The knot in your stomach is tight, pushing against you until you’re left with a tingling sensation that makes your body shake. You bite onto his shirt, pressing yourself close to his body with all the force and strength you can muster in order to mute your own cries.

You sigh in ecstasy, your eyes closing and body going limp onto the table. His hand smacks against your thighs, your brows knitting together. Cruel as ever, he turns you on your back, his cpk pressed against your thigh, his hand going to grip your face and he lifts you up. You support yourself by resting on your forearms, you hair sticking to your face and your sex still sore.

Shaking with sensitivity, your body has clamped around him, your legs shake as he continues to thrust inside of you. He grunts your name, clawing his hands into any of your exposed skin, until his movements start to grow sloopy and then he stills. He follows your actions, biting down on your shoulder to mute to his own cries of pleasure. He’s still, his seed filling your sex with a thick, creamy fill. He holds you for a second, riding his own wave of afterglow. He pulls out of you without a word, your sex fluttering around the now empty space. You can feel a drool of mixed arousal slowly slide past your sex.

He presses his face close to yours, the grip on your face firm. “Are you going to behave yourself?” He asks in a low tone, his gaze expectant.

You nod your head, muttering out a soft “yes.”

He holds onto your face tightly and you worry you’ll have to explain the bruises to others. “Yes what?” He states, his stromy eyes focused entirely on yours.

You swallow whatever little bit of spit is left inside of you, your stomach twisting into knots and your heart racing. “Yes sir.” A heavy flush of warmth floods throughout your body, pooling on your cheeks.

He smiles, releasing your grip from you and you are laid back onto the desk. “Good.” His hand slips away from your thigh and you are left a creamy mess on a desk. “Now,” he says, pulling out of you, a thick trail of semen coats the inside of your thigh, “run along to your big brother. I’m sure he needs you for something.”

In a cruel sense of irony- and perfect timing- your body finally listens to you, your hands clenching tight and spreading open, each finger wiggled in a test. Your legs are unsteady, feeling as if you were only learning how to first walk, each step unsteady and hands gripping tightly at the desk where you once laid, a wet stain already settling into the wood. You look at him, brows knitted together, your chest heaving with every breath. “Fuck you,” you spit out, bending over to pick up your discarded underwear, slipping it on as goosebump trail over your skin. The flat of it presses against your cunt and you try to hide your discomfort when his semen drips out of you and lands heavily on your underwear.

“Ah, ah,” he says without so much as looking back at you, raising a finger and wagging it in a disapproving motion. “Watch your mouth. That’s what got you into trouble with me.” The last image of him that you see is his smiling face, a hand combing his hair back into place as the door closes behind you.

[angrylizardjacket]

heard your name in every love song {Ben Hardy} 6

6. if you were church, i’d get on my knees

Summary: Rehearsals are going well until a secret history is revealed. Fight choreography ends up getting a little bit steamy.

A/N: 3206 words. i know nothing about wrestling or pinning or holding anyone im smol and just want ben hardy to pin me to the ground please and thank. anyways. i still no nothing about how action movies are made. enjoy!

the mutant brotherhood: @daisy-lu​ @hervoidparadise​ @nedmjpeter​ @ultrunning​ @d-r-e-a-m-catchme​ @clementimee​ @that-fandom-sucks-tho​ @cjand10​ @rest-is-detail​ @baileymae​ @rosesvioletshardy​ @onceuponadetectivedemigod​ @hazelstyles94​ @bitchylittleredhead​ @bihemian-rhapsody​ @sweatyexpertgardenpanda​ @whereeverythingisbetter​ @dedxbed​ @xxencagedxx​ @glittrixvibe​ @a-girl-with-stress​ @sunflower-ben​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @mrsmazzello​ @cubedtriangle​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @misscharlottelee​ @nevilles-insinuations​ @jovialcreatorkidtoad​ @brianmaysclog​ @sambuckywarrior​ @hey-yo-bedussey​ @bubblyanis​ @lifesciencesbois​ @elektraofcrete​ @diosanaz​ @bbdoyouloveme @kirstansworld​ @okilover02​ @cardboardbenmazzello​ @dreashappyworld​ @juliarose21​ @simonedk​ @greycuby​ @emmasunshiine​ @dinotje​ @qtrogerina​ @spiketacus​ @nympha-door-a​ @local-troubled-writer​ @emphatic-af​ @wh0a-thisisheavy​ @lustgardn​ @banginashton​ @pamacs-macs @rogerinahardy1

--

Getting up at the crack of dawn almost every day for training always leaves you feeling like a ball of aching muscles and sweat. You warm up and cool down properly, of course, but it’s more strenuous than you’ve ever consistently exercised before. After your general strength training, you spend a few hours with the fight coordinator, Walter Garcia, learning how to get thrown around without too many bruises. You, Ben, and Kodi, as well as your respective stunt doubles had affectionately nicknamed these lessons Fight Club, and as fun as it is, all three leave with bruises despite your best efforts.

And yet you still manage to make it to scene rehearsals after, and put your all into it.

Alexandra becomes a friend and a confidant, and probably the only reason you’re not actively burning out, apart from Ben. It seems like you’re never alone when you eat, with one or the other, unless you’re with both, or the Horsemen and Apocalypse decide to hit the town together. It’s chaotic, but it’s a chance to unwind and relax. You’re becoming a unit, as formidable off-screen as on.

Whenever you reach out, there always seem to be someone reaching back for you, a hand to stabilise you, to make sure you don’t fall, a hand on your shoulder to remind you you’re doing a good job, a hand on your waist – Ben’s hand on your waist, in a club, playing romance with no cameras around. It’s just to build chemistry, you tell yourself, as his touch sets your soul on fire.

There’s something in his eyes when he watches you in rehearsals, something you can’t quite identify.

You pretend to snap a guy’s neck, and when you look up, for a split second you catch him looking at you like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You want so desperately to not get your hopes up, to convince yourself that he’s doing it for the film, but there’s something there, you know it.

Well there was something there.

Then you had to let it slip.

“Y/N,” Ben’s dressed like he’s just been somewhere, though you’re not sure where, looking all kinds of good in skinny jeans and a leather jacket. He greets you with a smile as you’re walking from Alexandra’s room to your own, wearing pyjamas; you, Alexandra, Sophia, and Lana had been having a self care night, which included wine and facemasks, but it had wound down almost an hour ago, and you and Alexandra had just been running lines together before you called it a night.

“What’s up?” You give pause by his door, leaning on the doorframe as he lets himself in and sits on the bed, pulling his shoes off. He seems at least tipsy, judging by how he’s fumbling with the laces, which matched your buzzed state rather nicely.

“Nothing,” he shrugged, but didn’t seem inclined to ask you to leave.

“Nice night?” Leaning against his open doorframe, you wear a slight smile. Ben’s honest and tipsy smile was easily one of your favourite sights in the world, and the way it was lighting up the room at present made your heart grow warm.

“Fantastic night; McAvoy is a absolute tank,” he told you easily, and with such sincerity it was almost funny, “that little Scottish bastard could drink me under the table if he had half a mind to, and I don’t say that lightly.”

“I bet you don’t,” you find yourself amused by his antics, and Ben stops with one shoe off to regard you curiously.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you respond, hoping you mean it. He licked his lips; you stepped forward and closed the door softly behind you.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Training. Fighting. Acting.” He said, and reached down to pull off his second shoe easily. He doesn’t break eye contact. “I feel like I’m constantly in over my head, and I’ve been doing this for years now.”

“TV’s different –“ you tried, voice soft, stepping forward.

“No shit it’s different,” it stings when he laughs without a trace of genuine humour, “I’ve spend three years on a soap opera; this is the first time I’ve actually felt like I’ve mattered, and I’m not even on set yet. I’ve had to look good and hit my marks to make editing as easy as possible. I feel like I’m out of my depth here, I’m not a super hero! And I look at you and- how does it come so easily to you?”

“I’m sorry,” it sounds weak when you say it, and finally he looks at you, eyes wide, the realisation of his own words sinking in.

“No, I’m not-“ he back peddles quickly, “don’t apologise, I just-“ and he stands, only tilts a little bit before he’s on his feet and wraps his arms around you, muttering apologies, “it was a shit thing to say, sorry, I’m not accusing you of anything.” He assured; you hug him back, struggling to process his words. The way he’d said them, so venomous, that was never meant to be directed at you like he’d meant it to himself, instead, you realise, you’re pretty sure he meant to compliment you.

“At the table read, in rehearsals,” he goes on, letting go and head back to his bed, leaving you cold by the door, “you just- everything you say has purpose, like,” he said a little straighter, wearing a slight frown, “we shall inherit the Earth,” he tries to copy you, but it sounds strained, and he’s looking a little helpless when he looks back at you again, “you can call yourself Control and I bloody believed you; I don’t understand how you do it.” And he flops onto his back on the bed.

Quiet stretches out between the two of you, and you come to sit gingerly on the edge of his bed, fidgeting as you try and form a coherent thought in the face of this revelation.

“I don’t...” you started quietly, looking at your hands, “all I know is that when I was younger, someone I... someone I idolised gave me some advice; he told me to follow through, to commit to the bit, and... and I suppose that I’ve taken that I mean that I believe what I’m saying. It’s not method acting, not entirely, but I find some way to relate what I’m saying as a character, to a moment or truth from my actual life, and I speak that truth when I say the lines, commit to what you’re saying. I never let myself doubt in my words on stage,” you paused, “or on screen,” though after a beat your expression soured and you finally looked at him, “if that makes sense; I don’t wanna tell you how to do your job, I know you’re a good actor.”

Slowly, he looks at you, frowning. Then the words process, your faint smile processes. His eyes go wide.

“I’m really not –“ he tries to be humble, but you won’t hear it.

“Oh shut it, you’ve been a fantastic actor since high school, don’t act like –“

“How do you know what I was like in high school?” His voice is ice cold, and it’s like the temperature of the room has dropped ten degrees. It’s hard not to shiver. “You don’t,” he said, venomously, though it’s followed by a worried, doubtful, “do you?”

“Ben –“ you throat’s gone dry. When you finally turn to look at him, he’s sitting bolt upright, looking at you like he’s almost afraid.

“No, why would you say something like that, that’s weird.”

“We went to the same high school,” you force yourself to speak, and he scoffs loudly.

“I fucking doubt it –“

“The Gryphon School. Sherborne.” You paused, looking down at your hands, “I was meant to graduate this year.”

“What the fuck.” He breathes, eyes wide. “I can’t – if you’re actually a psycho stalker –“

“I’m not, for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, head in your hands.

“You need to leave,” Ben’s voice is tight and you can’t bring yourself to look at him when you stand, agreeing. It feels like the wrong choice of a choose-your-own-adventure novel, and you can barely sleep for fear of what the morning’s rehearsals will bring.

What it brings is strangeness. It brings disconnect and a week of Ben being decidedly weird, not that you blame him. He’s doing okay at acting like he’s okay around everyone else, but he barely talks to you, barely touches you, it’s a far cry from the closeness you’d shared a week ago.

Now it’s Friday evening, and the last bout of fight training before filming starts on Monday. Training will continue, of course, but it feels weirdly final, like the whole night exists in that moment before you jump off a diving board.

Ben and Kodi’s first fight was more like a dance, all threat and no contact, at least not outside of special effects. The second fight, however, in the pyramid, is slick and dangerous, and the stunt men like to show off as Ben and Kodi practice as well as they can. Your fight with Kodi, however, was a carefully choreographed brawl, where your character refuses to let go of him, getting punched in the face and biting and fighting back with desperation.

“Get up,” your stunt double, Ana, looks eerily like you, which is mostly the point, but it’s still strange when she’s sitting on your hips. You struggle feebly, but she doesn’t seem satisfied – “get up.” She demands again. It’s training, and it’s what you’re meant to do, but you know what she’s asking. You can’t bring yourself to grapple with her.

“Kodi, come over here,” Ana finally relents with exasperation. Kodi’s sweet and awkward as he trots over. You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving what you hope is a reassuring smile. “Y/N, you’re gonna grapple with him, you’re gonna flip him over in less than a minute, or you’re gonna do fifty push ups.” Ana tells you simply, and you whine with faux annoyance; Ana gestures to you insistently, “go on Kodi; if she flips you, you’re ass is the one doing all the push ups. Use what we’ve been teaching you so far, okay?”

“I believe in you,” Ben half laughs from the sidelines, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes when his gaze meets yours.

“Who are you saying that to?” Kodi asks as he gently straddles, sitting on your hips.

“Whoever wins,” Ben shrugs in response, breaking eye contact and looking away where he’s standing with his own stunt double, arms crossed, watching Kodi now with amusement. You flip him off and pretend like the idea of his praise doesn’t make you want to work harder.

“Okay,” Ana nods, before calling start. You and Kodi both take a moment to apologise to one another before you begin, but the threat of push ups must have gotten to your fellow actor, because he’s got your wrists pinned and an intense fire in his eyes. You set your teeth on edge and don’t hold back, shifting your hips up until you’re able to lift one leg up, your heel against his chest, pushing all your strength into that one leg, pushing him back.

He’s on your other leg, pinned between them, and you sit, twisting until your knee is on his chest, and his hands are scrambling for purchase, gripping at your legs until you grab his hands, first one than the other, pinning them either side of his body as you manoeuvre to sit on his thighs.

“Damn,” Kodi’s smile is good natured, despite his defeat and breathlessness, and in a moment you’re sitting back, letting go and getting up, graciously apologising again and dusting yourself off. Instead of getting up, Kodi turns with resignation, already starting his push ups.

“I’m glad she’s on my side,” Ben’s eyes are shining when he looks at you. You can’t help your pleased smile, flourishing under his genuine praise, but he quickly looks away.

“Okay, your turn,” Ana seemed to have different ideas, pointing at Ben, and then the floor in front of you. His own stunt double pushed him forwards with a smirk, “if you can’t flip Y/N, it’s a hundred push ups.”

“A hundred?” He went wide-eyed.

“Does that mean I have to do a hundred if he flips me?” You ask dubiously, heartbeat already erratic in your chest, and Ana turned with a sharp smile.

“Nah, fifty for you, ‘cos I like you.”

“Hey!” Ben protested, but he was already sitting down on the mat. Kodi was up to twelve. “You’re just biased ‘cos you’re a narcissist.” Ben accused Ana with an eye roll, and Ana made a thoughtful face.

“Y/N and I are cute, thank you, Ben,” she agreed with a cheeky smile, and Ben quickly went red, head falling back against the mat as he clearly tried and failed to will his blush away. “Go on,” Ana urged, giving him no break as she pushed you towards him.

“Don’t go easy on me,” you warned, standing over him. He’s still a little pink around the ears, rolling his eyes but avoiding looking directly at you. Something about this encounter is different; he’s being weird, but it’s neither strained nor oddly hostile.

“Do I look like I wanna do a hundred push ups?” He answered, and you sank to your knees, sitting squarely on his thighs.

“I – believe – in – you –“ Kodi huffs as he keeps working away at his push ups.

“Which one?” Ben asked wryly, and Kodi pauses, drops onto his stomach, taking a break, a breather, and shooting him a smile that’s all teeth.

“Y/N, obviously.” And he picks up where he left off.

You reach out slowly, moving to hold Ben’s hands to the mat by his head in the starting position, gently at first, then when Ana calls start, you’re pushing. For a moment, all he does is watch your face with a strange intensity, like he’s searching for something, like he finds something in the way your eyes burn with focus. But then he sits up, into your space, and with your weight on his thighs and not on his hips, it’s easy. You find yourself sitting back suddenly to avoid having him smack into you.

“This is why he sat on your hips,” Ben said, all smug and confident, but you’re not impressed. You take your leg from where it had been partially kneeling by his side, and bring your foot up to his chest, pushing him back on the mat, knocking the wind out of him, and you move to sit your weight on his hips, while moving your leg to press you knee to his chest. Leaning in, even with all the warm ups and work outs you’ve done today, you still feel the stretch in your hamstring, but it’s worth it to get as close to him as possible while he’s still pinned, you knee being the only thing that’s keeping your chests apart.

“Don’t be smart,” you warned him, pinning his hands firmer, almost nose to nose now.

“Thirty seconds,” Ana called.

Ben grinned. He wrenched one of his hands free from your grip, and held your leg in place between the two of you as he pushed off with his other trapped hand, rolling your both. Now you’re trapped by your own leg, with Ben’s weight on your other thigh. All that’s left is your free hand, as if trying to stave off your inevitable defeat, but he catches that, and suddenly both your hands are above your head and you feel as though the wind’s been knocked out of you.

He’s smiling. Smirking, actually, almost nose to nose, his eyes roaming your face as he seems to be drinking in your surprised expression. He can probably feel you practically on the edge of cardiac arrest – he’s so warm. Something’s changed. Whatever had been there before between you two is back tenfold. He’s flushed, all pink around the ears and pupils dilated.

“Get off the poor girl, Ben, let her do her push ups in peace,” Ana warned, and you realise that no-one else can see the way he’s looking at you, “go hit the showers.” Ana advised, and as Ben sat back and stood up, he was careful not to let his gaze linger on where you were laying breathless and suddenly flustered on the crash mats.

It’s with great disappointment that you roll yourself over and complete your fifty push ups.

“You guys wanna go for a bite to eat? I’m starving,” Ben offers as you and Kodi were leaving the gym’s change rooms. You narrowed your eyes; Kodi had already mentioned having plans that night, and he reiterates that only moments later. “Oh well, okay then, have a good night man,” Ben smiles good-naturedly at him before turning a perfectly fucking harmless smile on you, “what about you, Y/N? Food?” You swallow hard before smiling wide.

“Would love to,” you agreed. Ben gives a weirdly jaunty nod, and slings an arm around you, and the contact burns. Kodi takes the first of the cars the production team sends to pick you all up, waving and going to meet with the others playing the teen X-Men. The moment his car turns the corner, Ben steps up to you and kisses you.

It’s desperate and frantic, an energy you match, biting his lip and lacing your fingers through his hair. His nails are digging into you where he’s pulling you closer, his hands already finding their way beneath your shirt.

“Mr Hardy? Ms Y/L/N?” A very nervous and tentative driver calls your names as he pulls up in the telltale all black company car. You break for a moment, opening the door with shaking hands and tumbling into the back, “where to?” The driver’s voice is an octave higher than it should be as he desperately focuses on the road, and not the soft whimper you can’t contain.

“The hotel, please,” Ben’s voice is surprisingly level, and as soon as the address is given, the driver slides up the partition, which you’re thankful for. You’re all over each other, messy and desperate in the back seat; you’re practically in his lap with your teeth on his neck and it takes him a moment of fumbling fingers to remember that sports bras don’t usually have clasps.

“What made you change your mind?” You ask, and Ben leans back with a grin.

“I realised that either you’re the most dedicated stalker in the world to get cast alongside me, and in that case, I think I have to respect the grind,” he grinned, though it makes you giggle, “or, high school doesn’t fucking matter anymore because we’re adults.” He paused, tipped his head to the side for a moment to watch you with a surprisingly tender expression, taking your face in his hands, “though it’s cute you thought I was a good actor back then, I couldn’t act my way out of a paper bag.”

You roll your eyes and kiss him to shut him up.

[chemtrailsovertheclub]

old poems v1.

here you go. dated august-september 2019 or so.  

my brain is a conglomeration of suffering it is everything it's all in my head though. by the time it shows on the physical, the damage is done, the war has been won and i am not victorious, maybe i won a few battles but ultimately i gave more than i gained from all the agonizing pain it's all in my head though.

i don't have a sense of identity and i don't have very much empathy because i feel so much to begin with how am i supposed to take on your problems too? i don't want to hurt you that's the last thing i ever wanted to do but so i push you far away and i don't say the things that haunt me because i know you feel so much empathy i can't have your hurt be because of me so i push you away

it's all in my head though. it's not a real problem. i'm perfectly fine. and i live a lie.

-

you make my heart beat go faster and the time goes slower and i feel my heart get closer and it melds into yours for hours that seem like years so when you go and i'm left alone my heart craves you my mind misses you my body is cold our love grows old and i worry it'll never be renewed

you are my drug, my medicine, my addiction my confliction of interest, of distress, of wondering what will come next my love, my joy, my shining light, my star so bright, those lakeside nights, those neck side bites, those streetside lights, those endless nights, those endless nights

-

i don't know what you want from me i don't have any sympathy for your self made misery

i don't know what world you live inside, all you seem to do is hide maybe you should step outside

into the light i promise it's not too bright i promise it's not a fight i promise if you'd just try you'd see just why life isn't just suffering until you die.

-

it's fine, pretending you're divine, that life is great, you feel no hate, there's no need to do a thing did i mention life is great?

it's a shame there's no one to blame for all the ways you bleed from your very own knives what a surprise! you take so many lives, why not your own? when you're finally all alone, when everyone you ever cared for is gone, when you've pushed them all away, i promise i won't say i told you so don't you know?

it's fine, pretending you're divine, that life is great, you feel no hate, there's no need to do a thing did i mention life is great?

black like mold the staleness you bring to the air gets old darkness and decay only leave so many words to say statements of agony proof you're not okay, proof that there's no way, you're ever going to change

-

i like the way you make feel at home like i do when i'm all alone i like the way you love me with all of your fragile heart like it won't get broke, like what all i said was a joke i knew it from the start, and every, day and night, it tears me a-part

i like the way you make me wanna run, away, never to be seen again by anyone of any concern, it's like i never learn, but they're my bridges to burn, it's my turn

it's not too hard to disappear, if you live your life running in fear if all you ever wanted was right there

i like the way i sing this song so soft and distraught when i let out my thoughts

i can't maintain my composure it's over exposure it's vulnerability it's me showing me for all the world to see and i can't take criticism very well and i didn't think this would go so well go so well can't you tell can't you tell? i burn my bridges before anyone can cross them but you must have swam, you must have swam because you made it across and what happens now? all my defenses are down. fire at will.

-

i want to bleed out every single ounce of my soul let it leak out of my body through each and every pore i crave liberation from my whole i would much rather be a piece of the puzzle than the whole fucking picture but here we are and the light, the light is blinding, and the darkness is consuming and the love is gone the love is gone. i am not at home in the one vessel i have for my spirit. can i get a replacement? is there a warranty on the carrier of my essence? dance with me and sing with me and drink with me and smoke with me and numb your feelings numb your pain numbness is satisfaction and as a matter of fact, satisfaction smells like worms in the rain.

-

i am a person for equality i am of a nationality that presents me with an easier way across the street, a paved path to walk on, the white privilege meant i could easily defeat, anyones suspicions, all your nonsense superstitions, all your tired inquisitions, all your conniving accusations, declarations, the satisfying sensations that you leave dripping down my throat

i feel everytime i forget to wear a winter coat, it is a message from you, a dream in the way it is afloat, it will never actually be perceived as more than glasses that need to be cleaned but no one told me the world wasn't this messy, i grew up in a world that's so numb to their feelings it's depressing. and the weather, it gets colder than i planned for, my jacket still probably lying on the kitchen floor, i am getting older and the blasphemous ones wear sheep's clothing, my mom is in the basement crying in the basement cause she's insecure, she's not sure she's worth anything, not a price at a bargain store, please close the door, oh please no more, i do implore have some sympathy for my dystopian society it's not predicted (but it is) it leaves me conflicted (i start to hiss) it leaves me afflicted (with all your sins) and i will not repent, for the message is best sent through a "i'm disappointed" by your closest parent.

i will not listen nor will i give in, when the chorus comes in, when the guards come in, when the cops come in, when the lights go out, when the last bit of tension building inside my cranium as your fingers instrument a destruction of the last thing you have finally learned to call home, for when you are alone who is there to judge you for not conforming when you are the whole, you are 100% of whatever you want to be and if one day you can wake up and finally see the reflection that stares back at me from the awkward first compliments to the snarky half-assed arguments that ended with my sticking out my tongue at you and kissing you and forgiving you because no one is perfect and i am sorry, i am sorry i created a pedestal for you in my head, you know some days i'd rather be dead, or at least just in a coma something to give me a moment i got my highschool diploma like you said i was supposed to you said, nothing.

i didn't really plan to live this long. how could the world have done me so wrong? trying to teach me a lesson? but here i am just stressin? my fight or flight reactions actin up, i think i'm coming up, i think i've had enough, i think i'm kinda fucked up, someone get me off this ride i can't decide for the life of me why i get no sympathy, like the simple fact of my humanity, negates my value as a human being. i am seething, soon no newborn babies will be teething because the majority of people i ask on the street, seem to agree that this world ain't so organized and neat, and the people here all be trying to compete, trying to delete, any trace of their origins or else how are they supposed to make their fortune releasing an autobiography with insights the one and only, the prized show pony, the don't leave me i'll be lonely, the if you could see me maybe you'd tread slowly, maybe you'd consider the possibility that you are not everything a human can be, sure it is possible, but you sir are making me rethink making me wonder making me more aware, more scared, more fear, more here, less beer, more liquor and it's getting quicker to take a shot or two or three down my throat and the warmth has finally become an expected gift, it's not something i try to shift away from my body, it's not naughty to want to feel comfortable in your own flesh, you are some combination of all your physical features but most importantly you are a culmination of your choices, of every single one of the voices that you decide were worthy of being heard for a change, i know they may sound strange when they first start on the stage, but look at them, they are acting their age they are being vulnerable they are feeling satisfied without eating till they're beyond the limits of full, they are complete before you two even meet and if you refuse to give her the heat, the intensity, the devotion, the endless flowing fountains of emotion, she gives you all of hers if you just would pick her a pretty flower.

so what if, we were to develop a place where the motif, the reason for the season, the blinding sheet in which they are not told they are a project, no for once, they are not simply something someone has likely forgot, can't you see how i'm falling, desperate and distraught death is sometimes a thought, quite a lot. but instead i make a scrapbook, i get a pretty one, i make it fun, i try to make unburdening all the weights others put on my back a thing i do everyday but it's so much easier to say, to delay, to just offer "how much do i need to pay", what feminine figure of weakness do i need to portray so you can save her? every page has effort and time put into it and just because you're not as into it as that little girl fantasizing about that imaginary world doesn't mean you can't for one second for one, humble, moment, for one silent showing of hands, of all those who have demands from the dead, they must be read, we do not judge nor hold any grudge for the ending will be the same, no matter what personality we choose to play the game today.

[hibenjibye]

Apocalypse Dog

The first red flag in my relationship with God came in 2000 when Sega released Poo-Chi, a robotic toy dog.

I was 11 and had recently become obsessed with a kid's magazine called K-Zine or Kid-Zone or K-Hole or something, which was comprised of ads for toys and clearly fake interviews with teen idols.

K-Hole: You did a great job in Titanic! Thanks got sitting down with us, Leo! What's your favourite colour?

Leo: Definitely brown! I asked the director of Titanic to give my character lots of brown clothes! I think that's a cool colour!

To this day my compulsive cover-to-cover digestion of this magazine, full of people and things I cared nothing about, remains a mystery that gives me a sense of curious unease whenever I consider it. Probably because it serves as a reminder of the ultimately transient nature of personality and the fundamental unknowability of the self. When I, a phlegmatic child who enjoyed novels about family sagas and drinking coffee with the emotionally incestuous adults in my life, pinned a free poster of Nikki Webster wearing a bubblegum pink tube top and body glitter on my bedroom wall, who was I in that moment? What invisible audience was I performing for? Who did I believe I might become via this strange action?

It is for a similar reason, I suppose, that 20 years later I still think about a competition the magazine ran which offered readers the chance to win a Poo-Chi.

I had no idea what this dog did, other than represent the spirit of the new millennium with its sleek metallic body and tense stance. As the child of Jehovah's Witnesses I entered this century with the suspicion that a long-predicted apocalypse might be fulfilled at midnight, January 1st 2000, and with every day that fiery hail did not fall from the sky that year I developed an exhilarating sense that I was living in an unpromised and unpredictable cyber-future too advanced and impressive for God himself to interrupt. Maybe this was what I saw in Poo-Chi's dead red LED eyes: a sleek defiance of our Lord's bipolar love and threats.

Either way, I knew when I saw the ad for the competition that I must win the dog. I had never wanted anything so singularly in my life, suddenly. This is odd because I had never wanted a toy from any ad before -- The closest I came was shaking my mother awake one morning a year earlier when I uncharacteristically woke up at dawn and discovered a TV show where a woman was showcasing gorgeous pieces of statement jewellery that were marked down and disappearing fast. The woman rued the fact that there weren't enough topaz necklaces for her to buy one herself and I cried into my cereal when my desperation to procure one of these treasures, which I would have kept in my bottom bureau drawer and looked at every day, was unfairly dismissed.

A similar chasm opened up in me as I wrote my submission to the magazine explaining why I deserved the dog most. I tried to funnel my absolute need for it into my words, which did not seem to convey the urgency of the situation. I had a vague sense that if I received the Poo-Chi, which surely I would, it would be my best friend and possibly learn to perform tricks that a lesser child would not know to teach it. It seemed like the kind of magic robot whose arrival might catalyse the beginning of a child's adventure in a movie, and I had been waiting my whole life for my movie to begin. I'm not sure I managed to articulate any of this in the letter.

*

This memory becomes its strangest when, on a grey Sunday morning, I interrupt my mother’s vacuuming to ask if Jehovah would be insulted if I were to ask for his assistance in winning the dog. I've always prayed, at this point, and never asked for any selfish favours so it feels very likely that my good karma is ready to be cashed in. But first I want to make sure that God won't be offended and potentially even stop me from winning the dog to teach me some sort of rude lesson. I feel so close to winning by now and I don't want to let anything fuck up my plan.

My mother says there's no harm in asking but I should make it clear in my prayer that I know I don't necessarily deserve the robot dog, I'm just asking in case God is open to making my dreams come true and was waiting for the right opportunity. She reminds me of children suffering and dying in the world and I feel a stab of compulsive grief for them but I also feel that our situations are apples and oranges.

I pay an awkward amount of attention to my posture when I pray that night, not wanting to look like an entitled slob as I kneel over my bed asking for a handout. I keep my back straight and my fingers lightly laced. I confirm that I'm just asking, no worries if not, but this wish does represent everything I've ever wanted and I will be sad for a long time if I don't get it.

I do not mention the fact that the last time I requested something via prayer it was for a drunken brawl between my parents to come to a quick end but it indeed lasted all night, rattling my heart through the wall as I lay in bed. It seemed tacky to bring up this overlooked request however I felt hopeful that God would remember it and feel guilty, and this would compound my chances of getting my wish.

*

I forgot all about the competition but received a velcro wallet in the mail months later, one of three runner-up prizes. I was elated to have won something and showed it to everyone, even though it was ugly as shit with a picture of the weird dog and his robot cat friend on the front. I used it for years.

There was no doubt in my mind that the wallet was a message from God. It was both an acknowledgement of my prayer and a rebuke of my hubris in making such a lofty request. The wallet was a spiky little joke, meant to comfort and humble me. It was haloed in an odd dissonance which felt connected to my broader feelings about the unpredictable man in the sky.

In my teens when I began to pick apart all my ties to religion and to my family's unique version of reality, I didn't consider the awkward prayer about Poo-Chi to share any throughline with the uncanny path of spiritual emancipation and disconnection I ended up on. But in retrospect all of those strange feelings swam in the same pond. The wide-eyed waiting for a punctuating sound through the wall or from the sky. The rickety hope of walking out into a still-standing world every day, with its dubious promises and nonsensical lessons.

I continue to look for easy adventures and strange friendship through electronic devices. I am still mesmerised by statement jewellery and emotionally derailed by other people's conflicts.

If this story had an ending, which it doesn't because it isn't really a story, I would imagine it to be the above two sentences appearing during end credits over a freeze frame of me smiling and giving a goofy thumbs-up.

There would be a tricky post-credit scene as everyone stepped out of the theatre, of a Poo-Chi standing on a cloud in Heaven. A sandalled God walks over and leans down to pet the little friend, whose LED eyes light up red and beam out zooming rays. God shouts once as he takes the death ray right in his solar plexus and explodes into a dozen pieces. His still-sandalled foot is dragged to a quiet corner of the clouds to be chewed. The volume of a pop-rock song playing in the background returns in full. The end.

[bangtancentricsblog]

GoodGirsl AU

min yoongi x f reader

i had this thought while watching the latest episode of GoodGirls on NBC.

tagging @boymeetsweevil this isn’t part of my plan but i was feeling it and bam here it is

The park is empty, and why wouldn't it be when it's past 10 PM on a Sunday. Still it’s nice, you think as you bask in the cool breeze that's picked up in the past half hour you’ve sat at the picnic table. You shouldn't think too much, it makes you question your actions over the last year and a half but you shouldn't. It's not that you regret them, couldn't even be tempted to because the truth is you don’t. Sure you’d endangered your best friends but they’d needed the money just as bad as you had. Jisoo with her failing marriage, Lisa with her mounting debt and you a single mother who worked way too many hours and didn't have enough time to spend with your sweet little boy. So you’d gotten mixed up with some bad guys, it hadn't been your decision to rob the grocery store, but you wouldn't let Lisa take the blame either. 

So imagine your surprise when a handsome albeit petite man shows up at your door, a single brow arched as he takes you in. He’d been quick to let himself in, on a Wednesday morning no less. He’s accompanied by another man one who easily towers over both of you they pace the length of your small but humble living room the shorter of the two stops to take in some picture frames you have on the wall. 

“can i help you?” you ask crossing your arms at your chest. 

“yes, actually i’m here because you stole money from me.” the shorter one says looking over his shoulder at you. 

“i think you have me mistaken.” 

“nah, i’m sure i have the right person. how about you RM, what do you think?” 

“seems right to me boss.” 

“see, so why don’t we take a seat and have a nice little chat ____.” he says taking a seat in the armchair across from your couch. Your eyes have widened significantly because this stranger not only knows your name but he tracked you down all the way to your house. He doesn’t say anything just waits patiently for you to take your seat gaze fixed to the stiff peaks of your nipples since you were sans bra. You do as he says slowly lowering your body onto the couch, your gaze darting down the hall just in case. RM stands in front of the door blocking your only escape should you even think about it. Instead you turn your attention to the man who had addressed you the one RM had called Boss. 

“I didn’t know.” you say and hope that the fear you feel isn't evident in your eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter now, what matters is that i want it back.” he says voice cool drifting into your ears and its oddly soothing. He speaks slowly as if he has all the time in the world, as if speaking to a child. He speaks in a way that you know he means business, the tone is non threatening but one you can easily recognize is respected. 

“i understand that, but i don’t have all of it.” you say just as your son Jaehyun comes sleepily shuffling down the hall. He whines rubbing at his eyes and easily making his way to you taking no note of the tense atmosphere he’s just walked into. 

“mama.” he says pulling himself onto the couch and snuggling into your lap, your arms wrap around him automatically a hand running through his hair as he sighs before falling back asleep.

“you have four days ____, i don’t care how you do it.” he says gaze falling to your son before he stands and leaves you alone in the apartment. 

You don’t get the full amount in time, but he takes pity on you, if thats what you could call it. Lisa spends a good time calling him sexy while you do all sorts of odd jobs for him, but it does get better, he eventually cuts you in and pays you a decent amount. You’ve gotten to spend more time with Jaehyun since working for him and you don’t mind as much as you thought you would. You learn his name in Yoongi when he finally thinks he can trust you and he’s actually really charming, underneath all the bravado he likes to cloak himself in. 

Jisoo likes to think that your new employer has a bit of a crush on you and even though you deny if, you can’t help but hope that maybe he might. He sweet with Jaehyun and most days (when your not working) he’s sweet with you too. The two of you had been tip toeing the line of something more for the past year and a half now. Which is why you hadn’t hesitated in showing up to the meeting place when he’d texted you after putting your son to bed nearly two hours ago. You’d asked Lisa to watch him, she had wiggled her brows at you as you hurriedly shimmied into a pair of jeans and a cuter top claiming this was reminiscent to when you’d been crushing on Jeahyun’s father. 

You didn’t pay her much mind, especially with what had happened between and the Y chromosome that had made up your baby. You’d promised her you’d be back soon as the door closed behind you and now here in the cold staring up at the starless sky you wondered if maybe you had been stood up. A chuckle slipped past your lips because Lisa had been right, you’d been acting like a school girl with a crush on a very dangerous man and by now you should’ve learned your lesson. Bad boys were meant to be stayed away from, not fallen in love with.

“god i’m so stupid.” you sighed watching the way your breath curled in the breeze before disappearing. 

“i wouldn’t say that.” Yoongi murmurs as he takes a seat beside you instead of the usual in front of you.

“i didn’t think you were going to come.” you say, tone falling into something more neutral, something safe.

“i got caught up.” he’s looking at you, you can feel the way his gaze takes in your side profile. Even here in the dim of the moonlight he thinks your beautiful, you’re made of the purest of diamonds, a woman fit to rule beside him. He knows he’s toed the line too long, longed to touch, to taste, to please you in the way a king would his queen. Because that’s what you’ve become to him, his queen and RM had called him crazy for taking someone so pure so unlike them under his wing. Hadn’t approved of the way he’d groomed you to play the part, hadn’t liked the way he’d softened around your son who he could see himself raising as his own. To put it simply he likes you, and the fact that you seemed to be made for this life, his life made it all the easier to fall into your soft touch. 

“we could’ve rescheduled.” you mumble resting your cheek in an open palm and finally turning your head to meet his stare. 

“we could’ve, but i couldn’t wait anymore.” he says before he leans in and kisses you. Its a hard press of his lips against yours at first, he waits a beat, until you kiss him back to really kiss you. Its tongue and teeth and soft whimpers, his hands pulls your body closer to his, till your almost sitting in his lap. Your hands have tangled in his hair his own rest on the nape of your neck and another has slipped underneath your sweater his fingers spread over the skin of your waist feeling the softness under his fingertips. You want to do more, you want him to fuck you, here in the park, in his car you don’t care as long as he does. 

You’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t realize he’s pulled away first lower lip between his teeth soothing his tongue over the swollen flesh before really pulling away with a light kiss. Your hands pull at his hair and he hisses at the feeling but you want more, no you need more, you need him. 

“___, look at me” he whispers in that tone that always gets to you, the one that you’ve imagined when you touched yourself to the thought of him. Your gaze settles the fog clearing slightly when you finally meet his stare. Its now that you realize your chest is heaving, your lungs crying out for the air they’ve been deprived of for who knows how long. He’s still holding you close breath fanning over your lips and cheeks, his nose nuzzling yours teasing you with the prospect of another kiss. “i have to go now, but i’ll let you know when we can meet again.” he says thumb running over the round of your cheek. You nod mutely your brain still playing catch up, he pulls away from you completely helping you up and walking you to your car. He’s leaning through the window, you don’t remember getting in but your seat belt is buckled and he’s speaking to you. 

“Be a good girl for me and head straight home, okay?” he asks planting another kiss to your lips this one is softer less desperate his tongue caresses yours muffling your whine when he starts to pull away a smile quirking at his lips. You gaze dreamily at him as he rises walking backwards to his own car thats shrouded in the darkness “Drive safe mama.” 

[bishreview]

Top 50 Singles of 2017

My final article of 2017! There have been a lot of good music this year. Trying to cut down to 50 songs was a hard task, having over 70 songs by different artists before cutting them down. This means I’ve missed a lot of songs that I really wanted to add. I have finally got it down to 50 though and I have made a Spotify playlist which I will link to this if you want to check out the tracks that made it. I’ll only list from 50-21 (like I did last year) but will talk about the top 20 tracks. For statistics, I have one Canadian, four from the UK, eight from the states and a whopping 37 from Australia.

50. Never Let Me Go - Green Buzzard (AUS)

49. 911/Call Me - Tyler the Creator ft. Frank Ocean and Steve Lacy (US)

48. call the police - LCD Soundsystem (US)

47. Birthdays - The Smith Street Band (AUS)

46. Yanada - The Preatures (AUS)

45. Love Can Be. . . - Vince Staples ft. Ray J, Kilo Kish and Damon Albarn (US)

44. Pure Luck - Ninajirachi ft. Freya Staer (AUS)

43. Crushing Hard - Urthboy (AUS)

42. Murder to the Mind - Tash Sultana (AUS)

41. Dawning - DMAs (AUS)

40. Diamonds - A$AP Twelvyy ft. A$AP Rocky (US)

39. Second Hand Car - Kim Churchill (AUS)

38. Golden - Kingswood (AUS)

37. The Remedy - Polaris (AUS)

36. P Plates - Ruby Fields (AUS)

35. These Kicks - Citizen Kay ft. Georgia B. (AUS)

34. Shred for Summer - DZ Deathrays (AUS)

33. Feel It Still - Portugal. The Man (US)

32. Science Fiction - The Belligerents (AUS)

31. Cigarette - Ali Barter (AUS)

30. Got On My Skateboard - Skeggs (AUS)

29. I Haven’t Been Taking Care of Myself - Alex Lahey (AUS)

28. Andromeda - Gorillaz ft. DRAM (UK)

27. Man You Want Me To Be - WHARVES (AUS)

26. Afterthought - Dear Seattle (AUS)

25. True Lovers - Holy Holy (AUS)

24. Homely Feeling - Hockey Dad (AUS)

23. Low Blows - Meg Mac (AUS)

22. One More Love Song - Mac DeMarco (CAN)

21. The Evil Has Landed - Queens of the Stone Age (US)

20. Not Worth Hiding - Alex the Astronaut (AUS)

Alex the Astronaut has had a huge year. She released her debut album and has seen a growing fanbase to make her one of Australia’s most popular solo female artists. Her lead single Not Worth Hiding is a gorgeous song, reflecting her humble, gentle, kind attitude whilst having a relevant political point about accepting LGBTI communities

19. Night of the Long Knives - Everything Everything (UK)

Night of the Long Knives is a huge song. From the first time the chorus drops, it brings you into a darker, experimental world, shaping what is to come on most of their album A Fever Dream. Jonathan Higgen’s voice is again flexed, his falsetto being a brilliant feature in the verses.

18. Deadcrush - Alt-J (UK)

There are many highlights on Relaxer and I had a hard time picking between this, In Cold Blood¸ and Adeline. Deadcrush has become my favourite off the album though, the weird vocal in the chorus and thumping bass heavy beat making it both an intriguing listen and a danceable track.

17. Destiny’s - Arno Faraji (AUS)

Triple J’s Unearthed High winner, Arno Faraji, is the future of Australian Hip Hop. His beats are mellow, and his rapping style laid back, having a heavy influence on US rappers like Chance the Rapper and GoldLink. Definitely an artist to watch for the future, with Destiny’s being his best song so far

16. Dumb Days - Tired Lion (AUS)

Tired Lion’s debut album this year was a good listen. The title track though blows the rest of the album away. With a strong theme of growing up and missing the feeling of being younger, Sophie Hopes belts out the Smashing Pumpkins like track, with the outro chorus hitting right into the feels.

15. Friends - Kwame (AUS)

One of my best discoveries of the year was Sydney rapper Kwame. His EP Lesson Learned was a great listen from start to finish. Friends is a highlight from the EP, with a beautiful piano motif throughout, reminiscent of artists like Kanye. Another Australian rapper who will hopefully shape the future of the genre.

14. Fuck Off - Pist Idiots (AUS)

Another Triple J Unearthed find, Pist Idiots are a great punk band. On Fuck Off they don’t hold back, detailing a broken relationship where the partner doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore. The brutality of the lyrics combined with the distorted, messy instrumentation is brilliant, conveying a feel of desperation in the music.                 

13. Be About You - Winston Surfshirt (AUS)

From one of the year’s angriest tracks to one of the year’s sexiest tracks, Be About You is a smooth song. With Winston’s intimate delivery in both the rap verses and the falsetto chorus, it builds like an Anderson Paak or Justin Timberlake song. Definitely the most intimate song of the year.

12. Chateau - Angus and Julia Stone (AUS)

Brother and sister duo Angus and Julia Stone returned from a long hiatus this year with their album Snow. The highlight from this album was Chateau, their biggest song since 2010’s Big Jet Plane. With gorgeous production, beautiful harmonies and a relaxed vibe, their switch to a more pop direction was a good choice, producing one of their best songs yet.

11. Run for Cover - The Killers (US)

Just missing out on my top 10 was the comeback from Las Vegas rockers, The Killers. Although lead single The Man was good, I felt Run for Cover highlighted their sound better, being a strong rock song reminiscent of past hits such as When You Were Young and Read My Mind. The quartet came back into mainstream attention this year in a big way, and Run for Cover was the track that proved it.

10. Feel the Way I Do - The Jungle Giants (AUS)

If someone told me that Jungle Giants would be releasing fresh tunas like this I’d be shocked and appalled. But here we are. From the opening keyboard motif to the singalong choruses, this has everything a perfect indie pop song needs.

9. Humble - Kendrick Lamar (US)

Humble is the biggest track of the year. It will probably win the Hottest 100 (deservedly) and will continue to dominate most dancefloors around the world. It’s mix of a catchy hook, a strong beat and Kung Fu Kenny’s signature rapping style is brilliant and it’s obvious why this song has become such a megahit.

8. Nuclear Fusion - King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard (AUS)

Out the 50-something songs that King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard have released this year, the early release Nuclear Fusion still stands tall as the best. Their exploration of microtonal tunings and riffs are at their best in this song, as they utilise microtones to create a catchy yet dissonant melodies, catching the listener off guard. The “nuclear fusion” voice is a winner as well.

7. You’re in Love with a Psycho - Kasabian (UK)

Writing a perfect pop rock song is pretty hard. It’s a risky move, balancing catchy hooks with enough experimentation to remain interesting. You’re in Love With a Psycho is one of those songs which master it though. A song which is impossible to remove from your brain once you listen to it, it’s a completely fun, silly song which you can’t stop playing on repeat. With lines like “you’re like the taste of macaroni on a seafood stick”, Kasabian might have written the most fun pop song of the year.

6. The Comedown - Ocean Alley (AUS)

Like The Jungle Giants, I wasn’t too big on Ocean Alley a couple of years back. They’ve completely converted me though with The Comedown. With crisp piano, a smooth baseline, some beautiful guitar effects and the amazing voice of Baden Donegal, Ocean Alley have filled up the hole that Sticky Fingers left behind.

5. Marryuna - Baker Boy ft. Yirrmal (AUS)

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a tradition Indigenous language rapped before, but Baker Boy’s unique style of mixing his Indigenous tongue with English is genius. He switches between languages with ease, whilst creating catchy hooks which will get you singing along, even if you don’t really know what the words mean (highly recommend looking them up though). Baker Boy is a huge talent for the next generation and hopefully we hear more Indigenous hip hop following his success.

4. Boys will be Boys - Stella Donnelly (AUS)

This song is a tough listen, and even harder to write about. Stella Donnelly’s song detailing the experience of her friend’s experience after being raped, including the victim blaming by friends and family of the rapist, is hard to hear, especially when it’s described in such an honest and detailed manner. It’s a song that needs to be written though, with it’s message as relevant as ever with protests like the ‘#metoo’ campaign bringing light to rape culture and victim blaming/shaming. It’s a beautiful song as well, with Donnelly’s voice perfectly blending with the gorgeous guitar accompaniment.

3. Exactly How You Are - Ball Park Music (AUS)

Ball Park Music were relatively quiet for most of 2017, but they released two great indie tunes in the second half, the best being Exactly How You Are. A gorgeous love song which is as beautiful as it is simple sounds like an early Beatles or Beach Boys song, as Jen and Sam’s voices harmonise perfectly together in the chorus. Be prepared for an album by the band in 2018, with second single The Perfect Life Does Not Exist also being a great song

2. Watch Me Ready You - Odette (Aus)

Some songs take a couple of listens to really sink in, but some hit you immediately. Watch Me Read You fits in that second category. I remember my first experience with this song, straight away being entranced by the lyrical work on display. Odette’s delivery is both beautiful and sinister, with a beat-poetry-like vocal performance in the verses bringing light to the stories within the lyrics. She also shows she can belt out a chorus, with the hook highlighting her impressive vocal range. This is one of those songs which stays with you but continues to surprise when you listen. Hopefully we hear more of this later on in Odette’s career.

1. What Can I Do if the Fire Goes Out - Gang of Youths (AUS)

My number one mid-year still hasn’t changed. Although released early in the year, Gang of Youth’s lead single off their acclaimed album Go Farther in Lightness still hits me hard with every listen. From the ferocious drumming, the beautiful guitar riffs and the powerful voice of David Le’aupepe, WCIDFTFGO is a massive song. With lyrics which question one’s beliefs and faith when things go wrong, it’s a deeply personal but relatable song. It’s quite ironic that this year’s number one is about the loss of faith, whilst last year’s number one (Kanye West’s Ultralight Beam) was celebrating faith. This is a powerful track though, with its highlight being the gorgeous yet intense guitar breakdown just before the final chorus. 2017 was Gang of Youth’s year, with many tracks off their album going close to taking out my number one. This single though still reigns as the strongest track though and will definitely be a Hottest 100 top 20 (and maybe 10) contender, along with other hits like Let Me Down Easy and The Deepest Sighs, The Frankest Shadows.

Well that’s 2017 done. I will definitely be doing a review of Gizzard’s last album of 2017 this week sometime (I promise) and will try to have a look at N.E.R.D’s latest album as well as hopefully seeing films like All the Money in the World and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri and reviewing both of those, as they are highly anticipated films for myself. Have a good New Year and thanks for the support. It’s been hard to keep consistent with this blog this year but next year should be a lot easier and I will try to review both films and music on a weekly basis (might be harder some weeks but we will see). Thanks.

[inkedup210-blog]

Deja Vu

Deja Vu

It's funny how shit works out!!! One day you’re here, one day you’re not. I did always wonder where your spirit went once your body decides not to capture it anymore.

Anyways life is volatile, but everything that holds it together is supernatural, beautifully chaotic.

You ever wonder why moments exist. Why there is an exact moment for every single thing in this universe (metauniverses). Why moments exist in that very singularity of time, and the moments that you once knew (cherished) or moments that have not transitioned linger in both past and present!

This chapter in this book focuses in these very moments and how they affect our lives. Also how a moment could differ based on what we choose, but ultimately space and time having the last say.

I use the term Deja vu for certain moment, specifically in my life, in which I have experienced or occurrences! Some people believe that Deja Vu can be explained as a repetitive occurrence, which the mind believes to be a new, but eerily familiar experience. It could be the subtlest detail within that moment. Maybe like a new restaurant you chose, because you’re on hot date with a girl you just met. Maybe the Deja vu moment is something like, you'll both grab for the ketchup at same time, but in back of your mind it seems eerily familiar, and you chop it up as Deja Vu. As if you were re-living that exact moment. Obviously impossible, because of the fact that the components in that moment are brand new: New Date, New Restaurant, and all aspects. It is these moments, I believe are special compared to others discussed. Others being equally important: Present, Past, Future.

So I will get to why Deja Vu moments are particularly special to me and this story. At the same time how illusive they can seem to grasp. In this story, moments like these do exist, and are blatant reminders to me, of ones we lost!

In my experience they were more than foretelling, and border the lines of supernatural.

Growing up, I always had experiences of Deja Vu as kid, but wouldn't think much of it. I assume like everyone else, I chopped it up as repetitiveness; as a kid who pays attention to that kind of shit. I was busy playing ball and fucking around. At the same time they were rare enough occurrences to pay attention too, anyway.

Not like this time in my life, these were consecutive, in timely manner, a week apart, for about two months. Now although it was strange I didn't think much of these events, until the determining event. It was though strange enough for me subconsciously start logging these events and details down. Something inside just told me , I had too. I do now wonder looking back at things, what exactly urged me to write these events down at the time they would occur.

I believe the first moment I cataloged was "IHOP". Me and my shawty Daysha. I'm sure that it was her choice to go out there. It was a nice side of town, but people like us dreamed of living and prospering on.

Instead we were dealt the Hood, and in end I wouldn't trade a thing! Maybe just bring a couple people back.

So that being said, Daysha always liked escaping the Hood every chance she had. I assume that I did not realize it back then, because honestly was just too young and selfish. To think of it probably has to do with moral of story, and traits in life that we should negate from, because frankly life is too short. I was caught up in my own world, and was able to escape the Hood at times through school, Boxing, and my job that I was excited to have.

I was young and had everything in life going for me. So much that I lost track of the people I left behind, or was with in which I took for granted. But this is Life’s lessons. I learned this in the most soul wrenching way.

Back to me and Daysha, I was caught up in bullshit and did not even realize why she would go to places far across town, from where we from. I simply believe she was craving something more, even if it was for short moment. Think about it, maybe she found that in me, found hope in being with me. My energy was more than positive at time. She came from humble beginnings, but was a flashy, charismatic, beautiful Black Queen. I would call her that. I don’t even think she knew I referred to her as such when talking about her to people. I loved her, and she loved me very much!

See, I wasn't a one women man; it was just not in my nature. At this specific time, I did not feel that love for Daysha, that she felt for me, and I would later feel for her. So at the time, the IHOP incident or timeframe, I was an early 20s college student at San Antonio’s Leading and growing University (UTSA).

So, do I really have to say much! I don’t, but I will, and it is a part of the story, and how life has its way in humbling us as human beings. See everything, all these moments’, space in which we embody as matter is interconnected. The choices that we make, and life that we live affects everything, but most importantly the one's we love. This is what this chapter is about.

“A butterfly flaps its wings, causes a Tsunami half way around the world. “.

Now some of these factors you just cannot control.

Going back to butterfly for instance, "Butterfly flaps it's wings" . After the controlled motor function of flapping wings, does not or cannot control the medium of air that subsequently dispels other matter, causing ripple effect, and ultimately leading to catastrophic Tsunami. Now these resulting moments are out of Butterflies’ control, but like stated physically its motor function controls wings, and wings flapped. Naturally a butterfly is going to flap it's wings, because that's what they do, that's survival, it's basic instincts.

Now taking in consideration, Humans and our (wings) active components that most hinder our very survival. In my very own opinion this mechanism would be our ability to make choice. Our deliberate (physical) Conscious or subconscious act; the capacity to make a mental decision to adapt or manipulate our surroundings ‘is human comparison to the Butterfly and flapping of its wings. Having consciously or subconsciously mad a choice, in which you believed by every fiber was the right choice; you flapped your wings naturally.

In Return, these events led up to your “tsunami”. You would then think to yourself, is there something that you could have done differently! Perhaps yes, perhaps not! I promise these analogies and little stories have a point.

I bring these points up to try and allude to the possible meaning and sequential purpose of Déjà vu.

If not at least it gives you an idea of the significance it has had on my life personally, and its place within this story. I’m not at all saying that Déjà vu experience is universal, or a concrete moment like: Past, Present, or Future moments! I merely wanted to give the reader a look into how this story came to be.

Personally, Déjà vu moments, were moments in which I should of made a different choice , but not being aware, I just naturally flapped my wings! Man was I flapping my wings, and didn’t realize who was catching the wind!

Like I said, I was a young college student and everything was looking up from that angle in my life at that moment, or time in my life.

Going back to that moment at IHOP with Daysha on Broadway St. where we had been enjoying time away from the Hood. This particular Déjà vu moment happened to be subtle! Another ketchup scenario, but that exact IHOP I never been too, and a girl that I had never been with. Was this the moment I should of realized my Love for Day was more important than the other 5 women that I was arrogantly dating. Having them invest their time, heart , and emotion while I was only worried about lustful acts. Was that the moment to consider the choices I made and actions I took could affect the ones I lived dearest to me. Hind sight, I should have. I naturally kept flapping, surviving, thriving. Even though this was the first time that I mentally made a point to catalog these déjà vu events, I hardly regarded the eerie experiences. My dumbass kept living with no care in the world. As if Donovan didn’t desperately need my time and attention!

As if, each of these beautiful women didn’t deserve full and attentive love! My thoughts were merely focus on becoming successful.

Honestly that’s always been my mindset , until these mind altering events. Like I said life has its way of making even the strongest men humble.

Other than the lack of regards for others and their tribulations; life was going pretty great for me. I have been attending UTSA for some time now and it couldn’t have been better. I was actually surviving where most couldn’t pass their freshman year. Being a recently separated veteran from the US Army it had been paying for everything. I couldn’t ask for more; the exhausting and hectic lifestyle had finally paid off. Things in life were finally looking good and I had accomplish it all independently.

The feeling was tremendous.

No one in my family from my dad’s side had ever been too college before so I was the first, and it was a big deal. I took it very serious.

It was more than difficult, but just knowing I went to UTSA was gratifying enough. As the old saying goes “the sky was the limit.”

I was starting to come up and draft my own business plans. I encumbered all the confidence in the world.

I also, had to started a new job in my field of study and an Industry I love; The boxing industry!

The company was the main Pro Boxing company in San Antonio and we were responsible for Hosting Canelo Alvarez during his early career against fighters like Floyd Mayweather, Austin Trout, and Erislandra Lara. I barely begun promoting fights during this time, but I had about two years of business management experience with college.

I felt like the right person for the job, just had to prove myself and I had the confidence to do so. Felt as if I was in stoppable in my progress. Just a butterfly flapping its wings. I was in with the CEOs of the company I even got one of my other friends in the game thinking we could do great things and s***, but he just couldn’t get out of the hustle and dope dealing. His name was Boo. Cool motherfuker. Always a straight shooter, he did his time in prison and didn’t rat!!! That’s the main rule in the streets if not the only rule. The one thing my father instilled in us as children growing up! Anyways that’s another chapter!

So pretty much me and boo was doing the damn thing. Partnering with bars and businesses to promote the fighters and guest appearances! I would meet with the bosses and propose what was available when partnering with potential venues! Nigga, Boo was steady on the hustle, shit I was probably slanging too.

I was doing too much to Remember. Full time school, training, full-time work, slanging and the promotions! We was doing our thing! Boo was a natural Hustler, no matter what! I just saw him getting a little volatile, reckless, and pushing heavy weight.

In my mind, my hustle was UTSA; getting that diploma. Cuz, ultimately I always believed education could free a person. So although I was pushing, it was not my main concern anymore. What can you do when it’s all a nigga knows. Amongst all these Progressive moves, my lack of awareness for my family and their tribulations would in return change my life in a way I would have never perceived.

While I’m over here living my life, got my own place, beautiful women left and right and I couldn’t even spare time for my for my baby brother who was obviously suffering!

Now, I was living over here on Dewey Street by San Antonio Community College at the time. Nice cozy place, nothing fancy like before. It was nice, comfortable and most days Daysha was there keeping me company, even when I didn’t want.

All the while my baby brother is having to go to the f****** park to use the restroom and drink water and I’m totally oblivious to this s***, caught up in my egotistical b*******.

See, I was unaware of his situation, once I left for the Army. I left and I guess mentally didn’t want to come back. I love him so much but he was volatile, and liked drinking, so the two didn’t mix. All things seem trivial now. If only I held a sound understanding, and wasn’t caught up in succeeding all f****** time! I don’t believe my brother ever recover from the abandonment that he felt for me leaving for the Army. Ultimately leaving him alone.

I just figured if I joined it would open opportunities for me to take care of my family. I don’t know if he knew this, but mostly urged to succeed for him and my little sis. See when pops did his little stretch in prison, I became the man of the house and I guess that mental obligation stayed towards my brother. Always knew he was capable, would never understood what held him back. Anyways, I could have been more intuitive, an insightful guide instead of trying to leave him to fend for himself. I just figured that he could or was capable of achieving success and living on his own but again I was being selfish and thinking we were similar. My baby brother wasn’t like me.

I just figured that he was capable of achieving things, but again I was being selfish and thinking we were similar my brother was not like me he was more volatile, aggressive, and simpler lifestyle. Somehow he always ended up in some trouble with the law. Most likely cause of the volatility! He’s definitely the most loyal person that I ever met in my life. At this time, he had actually been serving a year and Bexar County Correctional Facility! He was accused of stabbing three to five people and they were trying to send him to up to 20 years for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. Actual story was more glorified or honorable on my brother’s behalf, because he had actually been defending a defenseless woman. Yeah he had been roaming in town drinking, as was his normal routine. He always seemed to be getting into Street brawls!

If I could say, Donovan probably had at least 50 fights in the street under his belt. Sometimes more than one or two people at a time and he would actually still walk away the Victor the Victor in the fight. I mean my brother was a fighting machine, and when he had been drinking was especially volatile!

So he had been walking down Goliad Road, and minding his business. That night he decided to walk through the carwash! As he was he came across the woman that that had been pleading for help oh, she was being beaten by her boyfriend while the four of the friends watched and laughed, and cheered as well. I like I said my brother had always stood up for people that were bullied, defenseless or victimized. He also never back down to anyone, no matter how big, how out numbered, or any weapon threat. He just did not give a f***! So naturally when he came up to this situation ; response was simply “hey leave that woman alone”

Well, he definitely saved her in that instant, because now they headedg there focus towards, my brother! All five of them with their intentions to put a heavy beating on him. Being that my little brother, had a baby face, and look young. They probably saw it as an easy opportunity! They did not know that my brother though! The worst thing you can do in a fight, is to under estimate your opponent. That’s what these f****** idiots did! One by one they squared up with Donovan, as each one failed at their cowardly attempts!

When they realize they could not defeat my brother with their bare hands, which outnumbers my brother by five. So they picked up two by fours in started rapidly beating him with them. My brother which was at the beginning trying to defend a woman and now defending or fighting for his own very life! In that moment he pulled out his knife and started going in on them! He punctured the boyfriend in his kidney, and the guy couldn’t jump and run fast enough! He then started going in on the rest of these pussy ass n*****! Just f****** stabbing and slicing anyone who had been there, or close enough! All grown ass men, ran, cried, and screamed as my brother chase them off.

He had been using some of the knife skills I had learned in the US Army that I had taught him during my leave. Use it efficiently and save that woman from danger! Problem was, those people, her boyfriend specifically were connected to a drug cartel, and the woman was so fearful for her life that she would not testify on behalf of my brother, that it was self-defense. To think that my brother, saved her life, and was now being tormented that he was now possibly serving up to 20 years in state prison, could not bring her to testify on his behalf! So because of this, my baby brother spent a year and maximum security on the 6th floor of Bexar County Correctional Facility. This area where he was held during his court hearings, was one of the most dangerous floors in the jail where murderers, aggravated assaults, rapists and child molesters were held. A place simply, where my baby brother did not belong. The worst of the worst, and my baby brother was here for helping and defenseless woman! He had told me some pretty gruesome experience that he encountered while being attained on the 6th floor. He mentioned that he would hear Cries From the cell next to him. It had been a new inmate who was being sexually assaulted by his cellmate! He said it was the worst night ever, having listened to a grown man cry like that.

When I just started to visit him, he looks so happy to see us. As we kept visiting, his moral, and demeanor, as well as facial features changed. As the months passed by his demeanor was becoming morbid, and one of hopelessness. He was facing 20 years in State Prison. It was going on in a year in Bexar County and was awaiting sentencing! All the while he was witnessing, and encountering some of the most volatile, and dangerous criminals and situations Texas worst had to offer. And this aspect, my brother was most honorable, and courageous, and just a warrior in essence.

Donovan had to stand and fight against multiple maximum Prisoners! The Blacks seem to have it out for him. It was multiple instances where they tried to jump him, but like always he stood Against All Odds. He never back down, but this was a different animal, these were hard in maximum security prisoners. Talking six foot six foot three maybe 200 -280 lb of hardened criminal, that had nothing to lose and facing life sentences! Prison is naturally segregated by race, and since my brother didn’t believe in gangs and wouldn’t join any, he was on his own. He was left to defend himself from the onslaught of testosterone crazed criminals.

So every time we would visit him, the disdained facial expressions increased. As well as physical facial features which were different from last visit before.

It was obvious that he was having a fight for his very survival and it showed more and more each time. I could tell, that he would try his hardest to bless us with the smile, but became more seldom as we visited him. Each time we would visit, his bone structure was rearranged from the battles he had fought from that week.

He never did shed one tear out of fear, desperation, or sadness. He simply wore his experiences on his face! And was becoming more obvious to us, that are Donovan Was living through one of the deepest tribulations yet!

It was this character that was to me the most undeterred courage I ever known in person and body! This is why I admired my brother, and always will.

After all the struggles my brother Donovan had to endure, and persevere through, his final Court proceeding was scheduled and his sentence was to be handed! A year overdue, the woman finally decided to testify, after accused boyfriend was arrested on prior warrants! Being that he was now under arrest, she was now free from all previous fears, and compelled to testify on behalf of my brother!

The judge was convinced by her testimony, and dismissed the case, gave him time served. He still had a catch chain at state facility you was ordered to, go from there, he would be released as time served! So he did, and he was finally release! I remember the day like it was yesterday! I was coming from my school at downtown campus UTSA, and I was headed to my grandmother’s, but decided to stop by my church Downtown San Fernando Cathedral!

I was going to just say my daily prayers and head to my grandmother’s afterwards, to do some training; . Hit the bag,my usual routine. So I started to make my way towards Central, heading towards San Fernando’s. I took transit too most places, to avoid traffic, and parking fees!

So I went to church, it was a most beautiful, and historical church of San Antonio Texas. It had been built as part of Spanish missions, and was at the center of the city. Most of its original structure remained, but it was definitely beautiful forsakes of tourists and visitors to the city! It has the most beautiful gold background, for Jesus Christ and portrayal of crucifixion. I would visit the Cathedral, almost daily, as a routine, coming home from school. I would also go to escape the Heat and just find a bit of peace! I prayed for my brother, daily, and if God could help him get past the situation!

This day had been no different. I finished up my prayers, and thanks for blessings, and headed for the bus stop to get to Grandma’s house! I need to add that it was a most beautiful day the Sun was shining it wasn’t too hot it was just right. So as im walkin thru and exiting the courtyard, I came to the crosswalk. As I attempt to cross, I look up for some reason, and I see the most beautiful smile ever. It was my baby brother Donovan, it was astonishing.

Here I was just praying, hoping that everything that he was going through would subside! It was obvious, the Lord has answered my prayers. He had delivered me the best version of my brother, I could have asked for. He was smiling from ear-to-ear! He was sober, and looked as happy as I had ever seen him before. His spirit had change and his demeanor complete opposite of what I have witnessed, all this time visiting him in there! He had a white T on, and some blue jeans! As I looked up, the sun shined directly on him, it was a Divine experience if any.

We immediately hugged each other. I couldn’t believe it! My baby bro was out, and so unexpected. We were expecting a harsh sentence, but obviously God intervenes! He had other plans for D- Boy! Higher- Level plans.

This was an opportunity in which I could have enriched my brother’s Spirit, but being as busy as I was chasing dreams! Of course, relationships for me became near impossible at this time. So hardly spend quality time with him after the fact!

So unfortunately we went back to the same kind of relationship we had similar to before time spent in prison! I was continuing to merely focus on my job at LeijaBattah promotions, and was doing exceptionally well in school.

Daysha and I, were becoming a bit more serious but, I still was essentially a player.

I had also started seeing this Asian woman Kayla, who I had met in Accounting II, and for some strange reason, she was under the impression that I was intelligent. She had asked me to partner up with her on an accounting project maybe it was just a ploy to get at me. Man as cute as she was, no way was I going to say no. So we agreed to meet at UTSA downtown campus, at the library. Got there at around 7 p.m., lingered around library and try to evaluate the project! After chatting and going over some ideas for the project, we decided we were getting kind of hungry!

So I offered to take her to this Mexican restaurant called “ Mi Tierras”, it was a local favorite, more famous for tourist . It was located right in the center Market Square! The family had established and been around since about the same, as San Fernando Cathedral. The Cortez family was a part of San Antonio’s history, and culture.

[wtfallonauthor-blog]

I recently watched season one of Amazon Prime series The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which I found hilarious and thoroughly entertaining. I don’t watch a lot of comedies—I find the writing is better on serious shows that also happen to be funny. However, I found The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel to be the perfect blend of plot and humor. SPOILER WARNING: This review contains spoilers for season one.

As a creative person, I noticed the show, while entertaining, also offered many truths to be learned about pursuing a career in the arts. Now, the show is set in 1958, and there are obviously hundreds of things that are different about pursuing a career in show business, or other creative pursuits, today. Social media. The internet. Society. Stupid people going viral and stealing my spotlight. And not just people. I mean, a rat dragging a piece of pizza down the street can go viral but I can’t get 100 claps on Medium? Anyway….

This show revealed so many epiphanies about pursuing a creative career that are still true today. Here are 4 funny (okay, some are not so funny) epiphanies I learned about the creative life from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel: 

Lesson 1: If at first you succeed, fail, fail again. The main character, Midge, embarks on a career in comedy after her husband, a would-be comedian himself, leaves her for his secretary. She—Midge, not the secretary—gets drunk and goesto the  humble nightclub where he performed earlier to collect a pyrex dish she used to bribe the club’s manager for a good time slot. While there, she wanders up on stage and drunkenly explains her very bad evening to the audience, who finds her hilarious. Later, the nightclub’s scheduler, Suzie—one of my favorite supporting characters ever—offers to manage Midge’s comedy career. Midge has a few more good shows, then some not-so-good shows, after which she decides to quit. She later realizes she wants to keep performing.

As a writer, I want to quit pretty much all the time. I’d probably be a lot happier if I did. It occurred to me a few months ago that if I’d known just how much work there is in writing—not just the writing, but the editing, the rewriting—I probably would not have started. I’d have a lot less stress and a lot more time to sit on my ass and watch Amazon Prime, that’s for sure. Hell, I might even have time to vacuum my room twice a year instead of once. But I probably wouldn’t, because I don’t care. Anyway….

But I don’t quit. I keep failing. I try to learn something from my failures. On the show, Midge goes to comedy clubs, watches the most successful comedians, takes diligent notes. Then she tries to apply what she learns to her own writing. She figures out what works for her, what doesn’t, how long to ride the laughs, how to plan her show instead of just rambling and hoping something funny comes out.

This can be applied to other creative pursuits. I read a lot, and have always read a lot, but now I really try to notice how my favorite authors do things. How do they explain back story so seamlessly you don’t even notice, instead of just making a big infodump on page one? How do they explain a fictional world without spending three pages on the scenery? How do they disseminate a large amount of info in snappy dialogue?

When I think I figure it out, I try to do these things myself. It doesn’t always work. I’m still learning, and more importantly, still failing.

Lesson 2: The more privilege you have, the better.

This one sucks, because privilege isn’t usually something you can gain through hard work, and you can’t buy it on Amazon, either. It would be nice if pursuing a creative career was equally easy—or hard—for everyone. But that’s not how the world works. It wasn’t in 1958, and it isn’t today.

In trying to improve her act, Midge finds an ad in an entertainment magazine and hires a guy to help her. She tells him a few things about her act, and he tells her he can write five minutes of material for $15. Now, that’s a pretty cheap rate today, but back in 1958 it would have been pretty expensive.

Can everyone afford to hire a script writer, or an editor, or a cover designer, or whoever they need to help hone their craft? Can we all afford to take acting classes or singing lessons or improv classes? No. Midge lives with her decently well-off parents after her husband leaves and her father-in-law kicks her out. She seems to have some cash left over from the marriage as well, and could probably sell some of their nicer items if need be. She gets a job at the department store so she can buy a television for her room. If she wants to spend fifteen dollars on a script writer (who turns out to be a scammer), she can do so without thinking too hard about it. She can also call her husband and get $200 for bail after being arrested for swearing and flashing her boobs during a show. That shows a tremendous amount of privilege not everyone has. (Money, of course, is only one of many kinds of privilege.)

The one benefit to not having money privilege is that it somewhat protects you from lesson #3….

Lesson 3: Scammers are everywhere.

The best thing to do is ignore them, or be unable to afford them in the first place.

There is no area of show business in which you’ll fail to find grifters promising fame and fortune for a price. Midge meets one when she hires the script writer, who gives everyone the same tired jokes for “$15 for five minutes.” Hollywood is full of acting coaches, voice lessons, etc. who aren’t worth the money. There are, of course, people who are worth the money. Good luck figuring out the difference!

Unless, of course, you have no money to spend on classes in the first place. That’s a surefire way to avoid getting ripped off. It’s also a surefire way to spend all your time working five jobs, leaving you with little time to write, go to auditions, paint, or whatever.

In the publishing world, there used to be a thing called vanity presses, where you paid them to print your book. Today, thanks to the magic of Amazon—aside from Prime, I mean—you no longer need a vanity press to self-publish. Anyone can publish anything on Amazon. Now, some people take the time to learn Photoshop and make their own covers. Some edit and format their own books. These things are time-consuming and not every writer is a cover designer. Not to mention, it’s a really good idea to have at least one other person besides yourself edit your book because it’s hard to do all your own editing.

So there is a genuine need for these services. However, many vanity presses have morphed into “self-publishing services” firms that charge an exorbitant amount of money to edit, design covers, and promote self-published books. Some packages run into the thousands. Again, the way to avoid this nightmare is to either A) do a whole lot of research or B) Just be too broke to pay for any of it anyway.

If you are in the market, read reviews, inspect the company’s website thoroughly, check its ranking, do a search to see what people are saying about it on social media, etc. Also quiz friends who have purchased such services about what they paid to make sure your price is reasonable. In general, avoid spending money if at all possible.

Lesson 4: Trolls Are Everywhere

Every performer gets heckled, but Midge gets a lot of heckling from guys who think women can’t be funny. And say so. It would be nice if we could write this off as a backwards view common in the 1950’s. Sadly, it’s also a backwards view some people still have today in the 21st century. In 2007, there was even a Vanity Fair article in which Christopher Hitchens attempted to mansplain why women aren’t funny. (Apparently, we never evolved this skill because we already appeal to men, and obvs., that’s the only reason for anyone to be funny!)

Midge learns to handle hecklers with aplomb. When an audience member calls her a bitch, she puts her hands on her hips and says, “Who told you?” The audience laughs, and the heckling loser is forgotten. She’s funny, he’s not. It’s a great scene.

Of course today, it’s not just hecklers at shows. There’s the morass of social media, and the evolution of hecklers into what we call “trolls.” (Also known as “hecklers who hide behind computer screens.”) Trolls are happy to attack women, minorities, people who disagree with them politically, and pretty much anyone they don’t like because, I don’t know, it’s Tuesday. As long as you have a big following, of course—for some reason, trolls rarely seem to take offense at people who have, like, 3 followers. Could it be they’re desperate for attention? Or just jealous of anyone who’s even slightly more successful? Anyway…

If you’re going to have a creative career, you’re going to need social media, and if you manage to get a decent following, you’re going to have to deal with the trolls.

I follow a lot of my favorite writers on Twitter, including one who was accused of “ruining science fiction.” Which is pretty bizarre. I mean, it’s one thing not to like an author’s books. I’ve read or tried to read lots of books that just weren’t for me. But the idea that any one author can ruin an entire genre by writing a book you don’t like is pretty fucking ridiculous. (Of course, this particular troll was also upset because the author supports things like diversity in the genre.)

So a few days ago, the writer posted a screenshot about his ruination of an entire fiction genre, with an addendum about how he’s made a lot of money in royalties lately, and “ruining science fiction” is apparently really profitable. It is now my goal in life to ruin science fiction…okay, make it ruinier…and also ruin satire. NOW I know why I’m broke—I haven’t worked hard enough at ruining things!

Of course, if you don’t have the time or desire to personally respond to every troll, there’s another option: Just block and ignore the haters. This advice is easier to give than take. I know I shouldn’t engage with trolls, but, well, sometimes I can’t resist. If you can’t either, at least try to find a clever way to do it, instead of sinking to their level.

One last thing…

So, those are the 4 funny epiphanies I learned from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Before I conclude my review of season one (love it, you should watch it if you haven’t already), I’m going to leave you with some epiphanies I had watching the first two episodes of season 2:

My new favorite quote from any TV show ever: “My goal is money. I don’t have any and I want some.” Suzie, who speaks for me and my goals as well.

Also, I wish my parents would go to Paris, rekindle whatever romantic feelings they must have once had for each other (which I REALLY don’t want to think about), and leave me alone in their house. I’d be so much happier.

Forcing students to take four semesters of a foreign language is just a way greedy colleges make money, because after four semesters of French I still need subtitles when characters speak French. I want a refund from my university.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish watching season 2 and see what other great epiphanies I can find. Hey, the idea for my next novel would be great….

V. R. Craft is the author of Stupid Humans, a thought-provoking science fiction book series that asks the question, “What if all the intelligent humans abandoned Earth—and we’re what’s left?” Her first political satire book, Fail to the Chief, will be released soon.

  The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s 4 Funny Epiphanies for Every Creative I recently watched season one of Amazon Prime series The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which I found hilarious and thoroughly entertaining.