#my body is specifically conspiring against me this is one of the better pain days ive had all winter how dare it do this to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

namjoonchronicles · 4 years

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worst | hs

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 1.9k

↳ summary To think that the world has conspired for you to love Hoseok is highly unlikely, but everything is possible with a little faith.

↳ song pink sweat$ ‘at my worst’

↳ author’s note the 7-day writing challenge is 4/7 done, I had much fun with this one and I toyed around a concept I have been trying to write better off. Enjoy <3

I need somebody who can love me at my worst. No, I’m not perfect but I hope you see my worth.

Soulmate. The concept is mesmerizing. To think that there’s such a person for each and everyone, that one person that was created by the universe specifically for you. From the time that they were born, down to the events that happened which led them to you, they are all orchestrated in order for you to meet. You always thought that those who eventually found their soulmate are the luckiest person in the world. Like you said, the concept is mesmerizing. To think that the stars in the sky, conspired for Hoseok to happen. How he is a gift to your dull life.

Even as he is jumping on the couch and walking towards one end to the other when his feet were vacuumed by the robot vacuums that he himself bought. You wiped your face down. “I get it now, why you said it was scary, I get it now,” Hoseok yelped. You puffed your cheeks at him. You’re pointing the remote at the screen, swiping on the Netflix, before you paused to look at him. He was sitting beside you, hiding his face behind the striped cushion. “Are you sure you want to watch this with me? You’re absolutely sure?” your brows knitted as you grew doubtful. There’s a number of movies on your watch list but you had been wanting to watch Alice in Borderline since you heard about it. It stirred your interest, knowing that your friends have a knack of watching good movies. Your husband must have watched the thriller without you because he looks traumatized. You feel sorry for him and tell him again that he doesn’t have to do this with you if he doesn’t want to. “What do you want me to do? Sleep in the room alone while you watch it here?? That’s even more scary, sleeping alone…” he pouted. Voice muffled, hugging the cushion like his life depends on it. “I’m strong…” he said, enthusiastically. Before he tracts back into the cushion, putting on his defensive mode. You laced your fingers with him and leaned your head on his shoulders. He jumps at every scare, and hurls the cushions he could get his hands on, then screams his head off when the jump scares arrives. You’re so different from him. He doesn’t really like coffee and only drinks them when he needs to. He would walk into the room and be friends with everyone just by smiling. And in communication, he would much rather speaking out front on what he wants. He is excellent at reading the room but unlike you, he doesn’t dwell on the softer side and the easier way of solving things, instead, he focused on solving the problem and it didn’t matter what it looked to others. His goals are immaculate and crystal clear. He will fight hard for what he wants and even if he is shaken by the pernicious stage of it all, he will give it, his entirety. The way that he is fierceless, firm and throttling towards his goals are admirable. He might be pulling your PJs by the sleeves in an attempt to hide from the monster in the screen, sweating profusely and chanting your name; but this much is true, he would do anything for you. You remember it so clearly, these hands that hold you so tight, his wedding band shimmering in the dim light, was the same that rainy night. Those veins protruding, wet from the heavy rain, dripping down his chin and determination in his eyes--as he held the door open. Leather jacket, black shirt, black damaged jeans. His black Chelsea boots marched forward, had you cornered on the wall behind the door. Pinched your chin so gently, his lips ghosting over your cheek, to finally trail down on your lips. Strange it was that it wasn’t him that was shivering, it was you. He had his eyes fixated on the view of your Cupid’s bow. “Do I believe in forever, you say?” he smirked against you, “Of course no.” He clasped your lips with his own, exhaling hard through his nostril and moaning in your mouth while his hand ravages all over your body. He shifted his hand down your arms to the phone you’re holding and left them on the kitchen counter. “I don’t want to pretend anymore,” he growled. It’s really hard to string that Hoseok to this one. When he gestures for you to keep your arm around him so he sleeps better. When he pulls the chair you sat on so you could be closer. When he writes little love notes on every surface you touch. When he sends bouquets of flowers at work or at home. When he wanted a couple shoes that matched the couple shirts with the couple phone case. When he stole a spoon of your ice cream when you stole his. When he threw glances across the room at you and looked away smiling. Or when he insisted on driving you home that late night in September after a barbecue party when you looked like a mess and smelled like charcoal. When he dropped on one knee to tie up your shoelaces in the middle of the mall. When he spent his day searching for the laptops with you even when he doesn’t know much about technology and was texting Yoongi at every tech terms he had never heard of. It’s easy to dismiss the love you are poured with when you’re the one receiving. It’s easy to look over the details of the meticulous feeling one would carefully thread. Hoseok was, to put simply, a tapestry torn at the seams. His family was not supportive of his passion for dancing. He ran away at a young age to fight. On Christmas, he was asked why he didn’t return home and he swiftly walked away without answering. The answer was, he didn’t know where home actually was. A home was supposed to make you feel safe, to make you feel at ease, protected and loved for being yourself. His home was anything but that. He was at war with himself for the longest time. Left his emotion behind for as long as he knew. Filled with ambitions from early on, Hoseok had nothing to lose, or so he thought. You could not have interfered at the worst time. He danced till his body broke. The sores and bruises that covered his body, they were the badges he wore. As he lay motionless on the hospital bed, tears trailed down the tails of his eyes, staring helplessly on the ward’s ceiling from the pain he couldn’t speak of, he whispered, “I can’t do this anymore.” The loudest whisper you’ve heard him let out. “What are you saying, Hoseok?” you uncrossed your arm and sped to the side of his bed, fingers clawing on the edges, “Have you not seen yourself on stage? You’re the happiest on it… You forget everything else, even this pain.” You clasped Hoseok’s knuckle, looking hopeful into his eyes, “You were born to be on stage, you’re a performer, I refuse to let you feel like you’ve turned every stone. You haven’t. You mustn't give in… Pain is temporary.” Life is regret. Life is all about regretting the choices we didn’t make. Life is also about accepting the regret we feel from the same choices. And if it means to tell yourself over and over again, that this is good for you, one day, you might eventually believe them. For all that you care is if when the storm comes and swept everything you know away, it’s Hoseok’s hand you want to hold on to, it’s Hoseok’s eyes you want to get lost in and it’s his voice you want to live on for. Maybe that’s what soulmate is. Maybe soulmate is a person created by the universe specifically for you, for you to fight head on with, for you to nurture, for you to lose your mind at so they can put you back together. Maybe soulmate isn’t the perfect mirror of you, but a perfect contender for you. Maybe he is the one that showed you what exactly was wrong about you so you can be better. Maybe he is the one that calls you out on your mistakes so you could fix them. Maybe he is also the one who pulls you close when you’ve pushed him away. Maybe he is the one who wipes the tears he puts on you. Maybe he is the one that puts a smile on your face when the world is against you. Maybe he is the person who would fight the world for your hand. The concept of soulmate is again, mesmerizing. To know just how much the universe cared enough for you that they conspired to create a soul for you, from the beginning of time. They say their names are written on your palms when you were conceived. With these dazzling thoughts, you took Hoseok’s hand in yours, examining each line that crosses its path. “What is it?” He lets you, he himself munching on cereals. You zoomed into his palm more, tracing the lines. “They say, the name of the soulmate is written on the palms, I am trying to see if mine is on yours,” you monotonously explained. Hoseok stares at your head and slowly, but surely, a smile grows on his face. His cheeks rose and his ears turned red. He didn’t fight you off and even encouraged you on it. “Do you see it? Is it in english or kanji? Hangul?” He teased you. You dropped his hand when you realised that he was joking with you. He protests, “Why did you put them down? Keep holding on to my hand…” “I had a really good dream last night, but because you’re being mean to me, I am not going to tell you what it was…” you told him in a sing-song voice. He pesters you. Pouting and poking your sides relentlessly. You usually share with him your strangest of dreams. Sometimes they are the exact opposite of what happened. But the way he listened, and the face that he wore always encourages you. Hoseok listens with his whole body. “I dreamt of you in the kitchen. You have a baby draped over your shoulder and it was crying, and you were cooing it gently,” you told him. He paused for the longest time. He took one spoon of milk from the cereal and sip on them slowly. He lifts his face up, thinking and glancing over the clock on the wall and he said, with a serious face and tone, “Are you sure it wasn’t Mickey*?” .

. *Mickey refers to Hoseok’s Shih Tzu dog.

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jj-lives · 4 years

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Legend Inktober - Bmblb

Showing Blake around her old stomping grounds ended up being a lot more enjoyable than she thought it would. When she’d asked what Blake wanted to do today, a tour of the town was not something she’d been expecting. Yang suggested a movie, or a walk in the wilderness that covered half of Patch. She’d even suggested the small amusement park on the other side of the island, but Blake shot down every one of her suggestions. She wanted to see where Yang grew up.

All in all the memories Yang had of Patch consisted mainly of the time she’d spent with her dad or Ruby. She had very few meaningful memories outside the little bubble she grew up in with her three membered circus family. She’d already shown Blake around her family’s favourite outings days ago. But Blake was insistent. She wanted to know where Yang went to school and where she spent her spare time when not taking care of Ruby at home.

So Yang did the only thing she could think of doing, since she had nowhere specific she wanted to show Blake, she reenacted a day in her highschool life. Hand in hand they left the small log cabin Yang called home for so many years. She pulled Blake close, her arm automatically snaking around her lithe body to rest on Blake’s opposite hip.

“Re-enacting?” Blake questioned when Yang explained her plan.

“You wanted to know about my life back then, right?” Blake’s cheek rubbed softly against her shoulder as she nodded in affirmation. “Then what better way than to literally walk a day in my past self’s shoes.”

“So,” Blake spoke, her voice carrying a playful lilt. “If we are walking in your highschool shoes… who may I ask is latched onto your arm as you make your morning commute to school?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Yang teased, pulling a disapproving noise from the back of Blake’s throat. “If you must know.” Yang relented. “That would be the one and only other girl to ever own a piece of my heart.”

“What?”

Blake stopped walking, pulling Yang to a halt beside her. The way Blake’s brow furrowed as she processed the news and tried to figure out who else Yang may have fallen in love with, was absolutely adorable.

“Ruby.” Yang finally answered, breaking through Blake’s internal deciphering.

“Yang!” Blake pouted as she was pulled forward along the path once more. “You are horrible.”

“That would make you a sadist then would it not?” She continued to tease. “Since you’re in love with the horrible being I am.”

Blake dug a sharp elbow into Yang’s ribs, causing her to yelp.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re violent,” Yang responded, rubbing at the growing bruise at her side.

“Who’s the sadist now?”

Yang was about to respond when they broke through the trees and a large stone wall came into view. Turning to follow it, she was assailed with memories of taking the same walk hundreds of times with her sister.

“This is where I dropped Ruby off before heading to my school.” Yang explained as they came to the front gate.

“Is this where you went to school when you were younger too?”

“I guess.” Yang stared through the bars trying to remember anything she could share with Blake from that time in her life. “But I don’t remember much from then. I remember helping Ruby patch up her scraped knee when she fell over there.” Yang pointed to the playground. “I suppose I would have been going here with her when that happened. But mostly I just remember dropping her off and picking her up everyday.”

Blake hummed approvingly.

“Ever the protector, weren’t you?”

“After Summer passed away, I kind of felt like it was my job. I always looked up to her probably because my own Mother was anything but maternal.” Yang grimaced at the thought of Raven.

“I do wish there were other stories of baby Yang you could tell me, but I suppose I’ll have to get those from Ruby and Tai.” Blake brought their entwined hands to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss to the back of Yang’s hand. “It would make sense with the trauma of losing a parent to have your mind block out the painful memories.”

“I suppose.”

Embarrassed, Yang pulled Blake to their next destination. Everytime she spared a glance, Blake was staring down the street or into yards they passed. She was fascinated at everything that came into view. Yang wondered if she would be acting the same way had their positions been reversed. She supposed she would be soaking up as much as she could about Blake’s past as well. It made her even more excited about their trip to Menagerie the following month.

Deciding to be a better tour guide, Yang entered the gate to her highschool showing Blake her classrooms for each year she attended. The front doors were closed and locked so Blake had to settle for staring up at windows Yang pointed to.

“How many hours did you spend staring out the window instead of paying attention in class?”

“My first year, way too many.” Yang shook her head, amused. “But after that my teachers conspired to stick me in the middle row so I wouldn’t get distracted by windows or the other students passing in the halls.”

“And how well did their devious conspiring work?”

“Not very I’m afraid. I’m very good at finding anything to occupy my mind besides studying.”

“I’m well aware.” Blake took one last look at the empty second floor window. “Were you in any clubs? I remember you mentioned a basketball team.”

“Oh yeah!” Yang jumped in excitement, pulling Blake around the other side of the building and down a path canopied by overhanging branches. “We used to eat lunch here instead of the cafeteria when it wasn’t raining or snowing.” Yang pointed to a fountain area surrounded by a few benches.

“We?”

“Me and some of the old gang.” Yang steered them through an opening in the foliage. “And here is where I spent my club time. I wasn’t the academic type.”

“Surprisingly.”

“So I was in track and Basketball instead.” Yang continued, only shooting a warning glare Blake’s way for her snide comment.

They took a leisure turn around the track as Yang pointed out some spots of importance from her memories. She hoped she was being a good guide; she really did want Blake to return the favour when they went to her hometown.

“What about after school?” Blake asked as they came to the starting line again. “Or did you always accompany Ruby home?”

“When she was younger, yeah.” Yang pondered. “But when she started her first year of highschool she was always walking home with her new friends.”

“So then, what did you do with your time?”

“I hung out at the mall a lot I suppose. It was just what everyone did. Including Ruby and her friends. So I would just tag along.

“With Ruby and her friends? Wasn’t that-“

“No, with some students in my class.” Yang answered. “The center isn’t that far from here if you’d like to go.” She grabbed Blake’s hand and started leading her before she ever gave her answer. “I’ll buy you an ice cream while we’re there.”

“You sure it’s not just you that wants the ice cream?”

“Can’t it be a little of both?”

Blake laughed before agreeing, quickening her steps to match Yang’s excited ones.

Yang’s first stop was the ice cream shop once they arrived. She bought one for both of them before they spent the next hour wandering the mall. She watched as Blake entered every bookstore they passed, following her willingly, or standing outside holding the drinks or treats they’d been eating when a cranky owner forbade such things near the precious paper treasures. But the smile Blake gave her and the kiss on the cheek she received each time made it worth it.

Yang’s jaw was getting tired from smiling so much and she realized just how much she enjoyed spending time like this with Blake. Her younger self wasted countless hours in this space, but never did she have as much fun as she was having now. Not for the first time, Yang wondered what her highschool life would have been like had they met earlier.

“Is that Yang?”

Looking up at the mention of her name she saw a familiar sight. Coming out of a Gap opposite her came a group of her old schoolmates. Yang waved, but didn’t want to leave her position lest Blake return and wonder where she’d gone. The group of five instead made their way to Yang.

“I can’t believe it’s you!”

“When did you get back?”

“I heard you were in the big city!”

“How the hell are you?”

They all spoke at once and Yang laughed nervously, not sure who to answer first.

“Let her breathe, you lot.” A raven haired girl stepped forward, pushing the others to the side, effectively silencing them all. “How have you been Yang?”

“I’ve been great!” The girl stepped closer with her arms outstretched and Yang returned her hug politely. “How have you been Sapphire?”

“Bored.” The girl deadpanned. She waved a hand at the group behind her. “This lot aren’t half as interesting without you around.”

Multiple voices rose up in indignation, but Yang’s ears only perked up when a familiar voice spoke up quietly behind her.

“What’s going on out here?”

One of the guys behind Sapphire stepped into view wearing a dangerous smirk at the new addition.

“Well you’re cute. What’s your name?” His voice dropped an octave as he slicked back his brown curls with one hand, holding out his other for Blake to accept. “I’m-“

“Back off Bast. She’s with me.” Yang stepped forward to push his hand away.

“A friend of yours is a friend of ours aren’t they?” Bast continued, sending what he thought was a sexy wink in Blake’s direction.

“No, as in she is with me. This is Blake, my girlfriend.” She continued to glare at him until he took two full steps back.

“Well, I’m glad to see the attitude is still intact. Big old Vale hasn’t broken that at least.” Sapphire carefully broke the tension. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“We were just about to-“

“Please?” Another girl stepped forward. She was much smaller than the others and wore her short red hair spiked up on her head. “We haven’t seen you in years! We need to catch up!”

“Jem is right.” Malachite spoke up from the back, where he was comforting Bast’s bruised ego. “It’s been far too long, Yang.” He smiled warmly. “Besides, how could we possibly pass up an opportunity to embarrass you in front of your girl.”

Yang deflated, Malachite was always the one to persuade her with his calm voice and un-imposing manner. She looked to Blake for back up but she couldn’t catch her eye. She was too busy observing the five interlopers.

“Blake?”

Her lips curled into a smile that Yang could see didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I don’t see why we can’t spare a little time.” Blake responded as the others, excluding Bast, cheered. “We haven’t eaten yet, and I wouldn’t say no to hearing some stories of you in the glory days.”

“Perfect!” Sapphire exclaimed

She linked arms with Blake to guide her towards the food court. Jem skipped to catch them, not quite invading Blake’s personal space like Sapphire had but just as eager as ever to meet a new person. Bast followed sullenly behind them, dragging his feet. Having no other option Yang trotted to keep up with the group. Malachite and Viv, who’d remained silent the entire time, fell in step beside her.

Yang barely said two words the entire meal, seemingly forgetting her in the others excitement to steal Blake’s attention. Taking turns they told stories of Yang’s highschool adventures. Most she couldn’t even remember, but the ones she did were so over embellished by the group it was ridiculous. The stories shocked Blake at times and humoured her in others. Polite and more lively than Yang had ever seen her in a group setting, Blake spoke with each in the gang and by the end of the meal they were so enraptured with her Yang could barely pry them off long enough for them to escape.

“But Yang,” Jem whined as she clung to Blake’s arm. “We have so many more tales of ‘The Xiao Long Legend’ to tell Blake.”

“It’s getting dark and Tai wasn’t expecting us to be gone this long.” Yang repeated, for the third time. She was starting to think no one was even listening to a word she said.

“You can stay out a little longer. Blake’s having fun. Aren’t you?” Sapphire turned her eyes to the half slumped form rooted by the hanging body of Jem.

“I’m trying to impress Yang’s father, not anger him.” Blake chuckled as she pried each of Jem’s fingers off her arm. “It was great meeting you all though.”

“Oh, Yang.” Malachite chimed in. “Do tell Tai hello from all of us will you?”

“Sure,” she mumbled. She’d mentioned him multiple times trying to get away and was ignored but Blake says his name once and everyone pauses to hang on her every word.

“Will your dad be very angry that we’re late?” Blake asked as they retraced their steps from earlier.

“No, he probably hasn’t even noticed we’ve been gone.”

“Oh.”

Appearing deep in thought Yang didn’t want to bother her so they strolled in silence half the way home. Yang was used to non verbal communication when it came to Blake. But where normally walking in silence wasn’t a reason to become alarmed, today felt different. Blake was so lively back at the restaurant that now, lacking her voice, the air around them felt heavy.

“You didn’t cut the reunion short on my account did you?” Blake questioned as they stepped onto the path that would lead them the last leg of their journey.

“Of course not.” Yang took a moment to compare the sullen expression Blake now wore to the lively one from 9not long ago. “Did you want to hang out longer with them? I’m sorry. I didn’t ask you what you would prefer.”

The look Blake shot her was full of surprise and confusion.

“Why would you think I wanted to stay longer?”

“Well,” she started, a little taken aback by Blake’s accusatory tone. “You seemed like you were having a good time is all.”

“I was just being polite.”

They walked the remaining distance accompanied by a weighty reticence. Blake only brightened when she greeted Tai where he sat on the porch waiting for them to come home.

Expecting she was just reading too much into Blake’s behaviour, Yang hoped it was just the exhaustion of the day's events that were catching up with her. Blake was never one to be in a good mood when tired.

#bumbleby #fanfic #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #my writing #inktober #legend

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charliejrogers · 4 years

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Yes, God, Yes

Full disclosure: I not only attended a Catholic high school, but I specifically attended a Kairos retreat, the exact retreat which the characters from 2020’s Yes, God, Yes attend. In the film, they call it “Kirkos,” but everything about “Kirkos” is the same as my (and seemingly every) Kairos. So let me clear up a few things for those of you who saw this film and thought, “This shit at this movie retreat can’t be what they do in real life.” Yes, Kairos leaders really do collect your phone and watch upon arrival to the retreat center since you are now on “God’s time ”(kairos comes from the Greek word καιρός which literally means “God’s time”). Yes, you are forced into small groups with your other classmates and feel this weird pressure to have a sad life story to share. Yes, small group leaders start to play music while they tell their own story AND pass out the lyrics as if these song lyrics are real deep poetry. One of my retreat leaders, for example, handed out sheets of the lyrics to Florence + The Machine’s “Shake it Off.” Now, I LIKE Florence + The Machine, but even still the lyrics to that song are nothing special. And, most of all, yes, those who come back from Kairos do tend to act a little cultish. At our school it was referred to as having a “Kai high,” a feeling in time when everyone just wants to be friends yet those people only exclusively hang out with one another.

In defense of Kairos retreats, at their very best, they offer adolescents at a critical time in their development the opportunity to reflect on their lives thus far, evaluate if they are living out the values their parents and community have instilled in them, and give them a safe space to work through conflicts, apologize, and try to be better people. At their worst, it’s a self-congratulatory experience where people act morally superior to others without really doing anything substantial… or even worse it’s a period of time where adolescents might unearth and talk about really hard topics like suicide, depression, etc. for the first time… and yet are given no real guidance on how to handle those emotions outside of this four day experience!

All this said, this is not a review of Kairos retreat. It is, indeed, a film review. I just wanted to make clear my biases etc. before talking about it since the retreat does more than provide the setting for the majority of Yes, God, Yes: the retreat’s four-day thematic structure doubles as the film’s plot structure. Just as in real life, our protagonist does a lot of questioning about her life and her faith during her first day, does some “crying” during the second as people, “accepting/trusting” the third, and then “living out” the lessons she learned on the fourth day and beyond! The difference is that in real life, teens are supposed to do these things in regard to their faith... or protagonist across those four days has a genuine sexual awakening.

In fact it’s exactly the desire to suppress her sexuality that prompts our protagonist to go on the retreat in the first place. Because our protagonist, Alice (played by Stranger Things’ Natalia Dyer), has just discovered something about herself that is hard to put out of her mind: she likes sex! Or, more specifically, likes masturbating. Alice is, from what we can tell in the prologue, a pretty by-the-books Catholic teen. She follows the rules, goes to Church with her Dad every Sunday, and os pretty sexually naïve… sheltered as we used to describe kids. Someone starts a rumor that Alice “tossed” a boy’s “salad” at a party and the rumor spreads like wildfire. Even the teachers know about it, and she loses her status as a gift bearer for the school’s weekly Mass. Of course, Alice doesn’t even know what “tossing salad” means (nor truthfully did I… but the movie seems to anticipate this by providing a definition to the audience at the very beginning of the film.)

All Alice knows is that she likes arm hair… like LIKES arm hair, something she discovers when she’s on an AOL chat room and someone sends her porn. That’s right, this is a film set in the early ‘00s, so if you hold any nostalgia for that time, get ready to have your fill from the era’s cheesy pop ballads to giant brick phones, to the fact that America (while starting to be so) wasn’t so health conscious that’s it not crazy to believe a teenage girl would just come home from school and snack on frosting and a giant bowl of Cheetoh’s Puffs. The nostalgia is not quite as in your face as in Captain Marvel, but it’s certainly more of a focus than it was in Lady Bird.

Yeah, you knew the comparison was coming. Let’s just be clear, this is by no means trying to be the next Lady Bird. This movie knows it’s pretty frivolous to begin with. Still, it’s hard to avoid comparison with the last big movie about a Catholic girl coming of age in the early 2000s. What I learned in watching this movie compared to Lady Bird or even Boyhood is that merely recreating aspects of my former life does not a good movie make. While I loved the fact that part of watching Lady Bird was getting to see someone shine a light on how ridiculous high school theater could be, that was never the point of the movie. Here, meanwhile, a significant purpose of the film is to highlight the fact that, yes, Kairos retreats are weird and the Church sucks. While I found myself nodding my head in agreement with what I was seeing on screen… it wasn’t exactly enjoyment as much as thinking, “yup, this is what a Kairos retreat is.” Furthermore, I feel like there are aspects of Kairos that would be great for skewering and I love the parts they absolutely nail: the cultish nature of the retreat and the pressure to frame your life in a sad way… but they ultimately take a route of criticism that is too easy and frankly is not a focus of most Kairos retreats… the focus on shaming one’s sexuality and the innate hypocrisy that behavior inevitably reveals.

If there’s a villain in this film, it’s probably the retreat leader and school priest Fr. Murphy (Timothy Simons), who gives in to rumors of Alice’s sexual impropriety as much as any schoolyard bully. No one in this whole film, from Fr. Murphy, to the head of Alice’s bunkhouse, to her small group leader, to even her best friend, takes Alice’s spiritual journey seriously, as they all assume Alice is not taking the retreat seriously as she seems to be avoiding talking about her recent, rumorous activity. Of course, there’s a bit of #MeToo hypocrisy here in that the male with whom Alice is said to have been engaged with enjoys none of the backlash that she has been dealing with. And to that degree it’s a satisfying movie in that Alice gets to dish out a little #MeToo revenge.

Still, even with all things conspiring against her, Alice retains her good spirit throughout the film… as well as her determination to further explore her sexuality. On the one hand, it’s a little unrealistic the risks she takes in trying to learn more about her body, but on the other hand teenagers and young adults are friggin’ weird when it comes to figuring out themselves. Ultimately she is emboldened in this take once she finds out that all those people who are out to get her to confess her “sins” are sinners in much the same way.

Probably the best scene comes at the end of Alice’s third day of the retreat when she runs away from the retreat center and walks into a lesbian bar where she hears the story of someone who used to be Catholic and is now not. More important than anything she could learn at the retreat, this Iowa girl learns that some normal people… just don’t have a religion. For some people this world, its pleasures, its pains, is more than enough. Alice doesn’t become a full-blown hedonist after this, but she is opened up to realize there’s more to life than Catholic guilt.

Perhaps to make this good message ring out, the film as a whole, despite some absurdist elements, feels like it’s meant to be a somewhat accurate reflection of reality. I wish the writer/director, Karen Maine had tried for a slightly more absurdist approach or taken out the absurdity altogether. She already makes the Catholic high school authority more caricature than character, and the plot at timesis almost silly. Therefore, the tone of the movie just sorta feels off throughout. Just about the only thing keeping this movie grounded is a great performance by Dyer who portrays a genuine sexual awakening very faithfully, capturing the mix of confusion, guilt, and excitement all at once. Even when Alice does something downright stupid, Dyer’s performance engenders our trust from the start, and we are always on her side. I wish I could have liked this movie more as it really does accurately portray some aspects of a Kairos retreat and is about as close as I think I’ll get to having it portrayed in a major film, but ultimately by not treating the Church authority with the same amount of nuance paid to Dyer’s Alice and her sexual awakening, the film ends up being an enjoyable, if one-noted, experience. Come to make fun of Catholics, stay for Dyer’s performance.

**7/8 (Two and seven-eighths out of four stars)

#yes god yes #natalia dyer #karen maine #yesgodyes

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rhysand-vs-fenrys · 5 years

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My Fanfic Library: The Masterlist (As of 03/26/20)

**For the sake of space, only Chapter 1 of long-form fics is linked.**

The Shadows of Night (Ongoing)

A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night's darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

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AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Cabin By The Lake

Cassian has been keeping a secret- for the past 300 years he has been building cabins around a lake to house the Inner Circle and any family they might have. Five years after the end of ACOWAR, the cabins are finished and the Inner Circle descends for two weeks in paradise.

**Even-number chapters contain smut scenes.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Velaris

“Protect Velaris. Protect each other. I love you all.” With Rhys’ final words, the shields around Velaris rise, trapping the Inner Circle inside for fifty years. This series follows Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren as they struggle to adapt and fulfill Rhys’ final request.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Velaris: Fury and Ruin

Following a disastrous attack on Hybern, Cassian’s wings are broken, Azriel is critically wounded, and Feyre is dragged to Spring by Tamlin. Rhysand must now earn the forgiveness of his friends, protect his new sisters-in-law, and find a way to protect Prythian from a looming war- all without his mate and best friend by his side.

**You do not need to read my previous series "Velaris"

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Feast of Souls

Everyone gathers at the estate in Velaris for the Feast of Souls- and to quietly investigate Feyre’s erratic behavior and strange temperament. Figuring out what is wrong with her is the easy part though- the hard part will be saving her soul before the clock strikes midnight and she is lost forever.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

An Elucien Epilogue

Lucien returns to Velaris after the events of ACOWAR, determined to be a better male than Tamlin and put aside his mating bond if that’s what Elain wants.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Bring Her Home

After forty-nine years in hell, Rhysand has returned to Night. A piece of him will always belong to that human who saved Prythian- the fae female now poised to marry his sworn enemy. As the sun sets on that horrible day a plea goes out across the Courts- “please, save me. Get me out. End this,” and Rhysand is only too happy to oblige.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Poison in the Wound

Feyre and Tamlin meet to try and finally clear away some of the bad blood between them.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Strength in Darkness

After she is woken by a particularly horrible nightmare, Elain asks her husband to take her to the only place that might help her make sense of everything that has happened to her: Under the Mountain.

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

What Rises from the Ashes

Tamlin confesses that he and Amarantha were incompatible mates- and the role that played in his downfall.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net || (New) Authorized German Translation

When the Darkness Comes

Lucien recalls the day Amarantha took his eye- and the difficult weeks that followed.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The World Beyond My Cage

Azriel recalls his childhood, how he ended up in an Illyrian camp far from his cell, and how his world was changed by an arrogant little Lordling with a chamber pot.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Peaceful Night (18+)

The holidays are a time for too many parties, too many people, and too much noise. After the festivities are over though, one can take solace in the love of their other half and the light that person brings into their life.

Feysand Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nessian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Azuala Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Amrian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Morridwen Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Sweet Treat (Feysand 18+)

On Feyre’s first Feast of Souls in Velaris, she finds a new way to give Rhys his holiday chocolates.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Midday Treat (Feysand 18+)

Rhys has been skipping meals again, so Feyre decides to give him an incentive to eat his lunch.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Alone in the Townhouse (Nessian 18+)

When the Court of Nightmares visits Velaris, Nesta and Cassian plot to take advantage of their time alone and finally take things to the next level.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nessian: The Mating (Nessian 18+)

At long last, Cassian and Nesta's wedding (and mating) day has arrived... along with most of Prythian.

*This is a sequel to "Alone in the Townhouse"*

Extended Re-Post Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Short Version || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Simply Love (Morridwen 18+)

In a thinly veiled attempt to seduce Cerridwen, Mor takes her lover of three years to day for a date before spending an evening at home. A simple, sweet fic for a simple and sweet love.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Slowly (Nessian 18+)

Cassian returns from a fierce Illyrian civil war weary and on edge. Nesta wants to welcome her lover home after weeks away, but she knows the lust that comes on the heels of bloodshed has been building in Cassian the entire time he’s been gone. Both desperately want to be with one another, but for Nesta’s sake he must shove down the Illyrian and proceed slowly.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Bargain Well Struck (Nessian 18+)

Their deal is simple enough- if Nesta trains hard enough, she can claim a massage as her reward. Cassian’s hands never venture beneath the modesty-towels, so Nesta makes sure all the right places are exposed.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Sharing Heaven (Nessian & Azriel 18+)

Nesta and Cassian invite Azriel to join them in bed, and Nesta finally gets what she’s been dreaming of all year.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Alone in the Garden (Elucien 18+)

As the Inner Circle tricks Nesta and Cassian into spending some alone time together, Elain and Lucien find themselves unchaperoned at the House of Wind. **Contains ACOWAR Spoilers** (This is a quasi-sequel to "An Elucien Epilogue" and runs concurrently to "Alone in the Townhouse")

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Cazriel: The Spongebath (Cazriel 18+)

In this AU of my fic "Velaris: Fury and Ruin", Cassian and Azriel explore previously untouched desires each male feels for their friend (written for Court-0f-Dreamers on tumblr in 15 min after too much alcohol).

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net: NOT AVAILABLE

The Torturer’s Throne (Cazriel 18+)

Cassian helps Azriel push his darkness aside and takes a bit of relief for himself in the process.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Until the Shadows Are Silent (Cazriel 18+)

For eight years the shields around Velaris have kept the Inner Circle trapped. Azriel is drowning under the wrath, rage, and pain of being caged in the city, so he turns to an old lover, one who is very good at bending fae over and not stopping until their minds and bodies are ravaged– Cassian.

*Contains strong BDSM themes, DM if you are concerned about a specific TW*

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanficiton.net

One Year in Heaven (Elucien/Elriel 18+)

Elain and her husband celebrate their first anniversary in style. A romantic dinner, an exchange of gifts, and a new suite of bedroom toys to try out.

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Watching (Elucien 18+)

Elain and Lucien head into the foothills of Velaris to attend the opera, but their true destination is an exclusive club hidden deep beneath the theater. They’ll still get a hell of a show- and have a chance to put on one themselves.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net

Sharing (A Watching Sequel) (Elucien 18+)

For years Elain and Lucien have been loyal members of (and performers in) the sensual club hidden beneath Velaris’ opera house. Now- after months of discussion- they have decided to test the waters on expanding their display and changing their masks. No audience, no stage- and no longer just the two of them.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net

Incense Burner (Ongoing (Elucien 18+))

After a collapse in the Hewn City reveals a long lost Vault of the High Lords, Lucien and Elain accidentally come to possess one of the Lord’s treasures. What appears to be a simple incense burner turns out to be something far, far more. As Elain and Lucien fall under its spell time and again they will be drawn into a world they could only imagine in their wildest dreams…

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Chapter 2 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Peaceful Night (18+)

Manorian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Chaorene Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elorcan Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Rowaelin Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nesraq Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Lysaedion Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Calm After the Storm (Rowaelin 18+)

Erawan and Maeve have been defeated, the armies of Morath are vanquished, and Aelin rightly sits on the throne of Terrasen with Rowan by her side- and Lord Darrow as a constant pain in her ass. Frustrated and in need of a break, Aelin orders Rowan to do his job and consort with his Queen.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

To Spite the Shadow (Rowaelin 18+)

Nearly a year has passed since Aelin and Rowan destroyed the forces of Maeve and Erawan. Terrasen is rebuilding, Aelin is healing, and the world is finally at peace. Rowan conspires with Lysandra to give his mate a rest from her Queenly duties.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

For You (Lysaedion 18+)

Lysandra and Aedion enjoy a peace and freedom they never knew before Erawan and Maeve’s defeat. Still- something isn’t quite right. Aedion is keeping one of his desires secret, and Lysandra is determined to figure out what it is.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Familiar Stranger (Lysaedion 18+)

Tanned bronze skin, piercing violet eyes, night black hair- after a nightmare week in Orynth, Aedion goes for a drink and catches the eye of a beautiful- and familiar- fae male. When the male leaves, Aedion follows him to a dark, secluded alley where they can both blow off some steam.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Path Ahead (Elorcan 18+)

For Elide, it is the end of her virginity. For Lorcan, it’s the last ‘first time’ he ever wants to have. Both are nervous about the evening to come, but neither would change it for the world.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Cure for Nightmares (Manorian 18+)

Mere weeks after the events of “Empire of Storms”, Manon and the Thirteen conspire to give Dorian the break he so desperately needs.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Curing the Fever (Manorian 18+)

Manon is forced to leave a meeting early due to a suspected illness. Luckily for her and Dorian, none of the Thirteen guessed exactly what was wrong.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

One Year in Heaven (Manorian 18+)

Dorian and Manon celebrate the anniversary of their meeting in style- with ropes, chains, and a bit of domination.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Morning in the Jingshi

A new merchant has moved into Caiyi Town, one who deals in sinful wares. Wuxian places an order and decides to model a whole suite of new toys for Wangji. Wei Wuxian has always liked it rough, but he may have been too ambitious this time.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net (Not Available)

Project: Echo (Part 1)

A long-buried Hydra disaster, a monster in the shadows, a missing child. Eight months after the events of “The Winter Soldier”, Bucky turns himself in to the Avengers on one condition: They must help him find a girl snatched off the streets by Hydra seven years ago. In their quest, the Avengers accidentally unleash a horrifying creature of darkness and shadow, intent on making their quarry its prey.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Project: Echo (Part 2)

A new enemy surfaces with a team of the Avengers’ greatest foes, hand-picked for their destruction. Meanwhile, Inessa’s pre-Hydra past begins to surface, casting doubt on where her loyalties truly lie.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Project: Echo (FINALE)

Seven years after the events of “Part 2”, Avengers Tower explodes, fulfilling Bucky’s vision. All evidence points to Avengers Shadow-Ops leader Inessa Ryker, who is forced to seek out Bucky in hiding. Together they must determine who the traitor is in their ranks and if their friends are still alive- all while trying to survive deadly ambushes orchestrated by Sam Wilson and his hand-picked army.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Avengers: Valkyrie Wars (Part 1)

When a young woman stumbles across a Valkyrie artifact the Avengers will fight Asgard, Valkyrie, Loki, Hydra, and the last of a monstrous race known as the Norn. Whoever claims the weapon can unleash Hell, but when it vanishes Loki takes the only person capable of finding it again: Steve Roger's lover.

**All cannon through "Winter Soldier" used, NO "Age of Ultron" or "Civil War"**

Tumblr: Not Available || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

To Save Her Soul (Ongoing)

After the events of "Captain America: Civil War", Alice Pierce (the granddaughter of Alexander Pierce), a drug addict, is pulled off the streets and forced through detox by the Avengers so that she might help infiltrate her grandfather's compound to rescue Clint's wife and children.

**Trigger warnings noted above chapters, overall warning for drug use/withdrawal**

Tumblr: Not Available || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

X-Reader Format (Abandoned) || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Ridiculous Ground-Up World Building Sheet

Shorter: World Building 101

World Building 102: World Building Tips

The Ridiculous Ground-Up Character Building Sheet

General Writing Tips

Master Plot Types

Things to Ask Yourself

Dialogue

How to Write Smut

Tough-Love Tips for Writers

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robbyrobinson · 4 years

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OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS CROSSOVER: GODS AWAKEN (Pt. VI)

“Bring in the accused,” a voice called out.

Within the Emperor’s castle was the beating heart of the Titan. The ruler of the Boiling Isles, Emperor Belos, sat on his throne with his hand planted between the palms of his hands. His breathing was in few, quick successions; he forced the air out of his longs in a sharp exhale.

Three men were taken into the throne room in chains. Their feet shuffled under the weight of the shackles. On their fingers were multiple tiny locks to prevent them from accessing the magic in their bile sacs. They each wore a black cloak that concealed most of their bodies aside from their hands and legs. Imperial guards from the Conformatorium tossed the men down before the throne of Belos.

“My lord,” one of the guards spoke up, “we have captured the traitors as you had advised us.”

Emperor Belos held his hand up in response, but he did not turn his attention towards the guard just yet. “Please, give me a minute to compose myself.”

As if on cue, a servant ran into the room carrying a small pillow. On it was a palisman fashioned in the shape of a ram. With his gloved finger, he stabbed a slit in the palisman’s side much like how a nut is opened with a nutcracker. Green liquid seeped from the palisman onto Belos’ fingers. Without much thought, Belos lifted the broken palisman in front of his face and allowed the green substance to sprinkle down into his eyes like rain. His eyes glowed momentarily before returning back to the bluish pupils hidden behind the black sockets of his mask.

“Ah, that’s better.”

Disgust manifested on the prisoners’ faces with one on the urge of retching from seeing the emperor consume the substance. Their cheeks were filling up and turning a sickly green. After Belos finished with the hollow shell of the palisman, he placed it back on the pillow and tilted his head signaling the servant to leave him and the guards alone with the prisoners.

“To what am I giving the displeasure to?” Belos asked.

“My liege, these men have been caught trying to instigate rebellion against the government in the western and northern regions of the Boiling Isles,” the head imperial guard announced.

Ah, yes; rebellion. There was hardly any mumbling of revolt against the system not in the fifty years Belos was in power. Belos could remember that day just well: his plan of having the Owl Lady petrified in a public display to dissuade any other inclinations of disavowing the system was thwarted because of that human girl. Worse, two kids led the crowd to fight for her freedom. At the least, he still did have some dominion over the children of the Isles as he claimed that the Titan informed him that the Owl Lady would forever suffer from her curse.

Belos grabbed ahold of his staff and pushed himself up. “Rebelling? Pray tell; why would you commit such high treason?”

The head of the prisoners, a one-eyed demon spoke up. “We have had enough of your tyranny.”

Belos lifted his staff and tapped the ringleader’s shoulder. “Such a shame to see that your mind had been poisoned by nonsensical ravings of conspirators.”

The man pushed the staff aside. “You claim that you are doing this for the people’s interests, but you are deliberately denying witches and demons their individuality and forcing them to condone to your design!”

Belos stood silently for a second. The guards gave passing glances towards each other. The ringleader also looked at his co-conspirators with equal confusion. The words stabbed into Belos like sharp knives. Belos sighed and turned away to return to his throne.

“Is that truly how you feel?”

The prisoners nodded. Belos rubbed the sides of his mask and shook his head. “The Titan has declared you three guilty of the highest treason against the Isles.”

The guards tightened their grips on the accused and pried their feet from the ground. The co-conspirators began to thrash to squirm their way out of their holds and bindings, but the binds were made specifically to keep them from using their magic. The ringleader resisted long enough to scream at the top of his lungs.

“You won’t get away with this!!”

The door slammed behind Belos and he was left alone in his throne room with the steady pitter patter of the Titan’s heart. Thirty minutes later, the door lightly creaked open. “My lord?”

Belos looked at the door seeing that a small, child-sized demon was behind the other side. “Ah, Kiki, please come in.”

Kikimora walked in with a troubled look. Belos walked towards her. “The sentence isn’t going as according to plan?”

Kikimora shook her head. “No, that isn’t it, my lord.” She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Are you certain that the human girl and the Owl Lady won’t try to do anything to stop your plan?”

Emperor Belos chuckled. “I am allowing her to believe that she had won for the time being.”

“Why sir?”

“She is something of a seed. I will let her live in her own little bubble convinced that she saved the Isles from whatever plan I have devised. I will provide her with the appropriate nutrients every now and then until she blossoms. When the time is right, it will be all the more delectable to rip out the rug from underneath her and watch her face contort with despair when the Titan’s will is realized.”

Kikimora nodded her head in an attempt to understand what her master was trying to say. “What of that traitor then?”

Belos clasped his staff. “Sweet Lilith? Believe me, I can see that she is already suffering because of her betrayal; her name has become smeared and recoiled like with her sister. Besides, she is meaningless in the overall will of the Titan. The Day of Unity is almost at hand.”

The three conspirators were placed into the cage in front of all the observant eyes of the children of the Isles. The citizens looked at the spectacle with fearful expressions. Word had quickly circulated around of the public sentence. The drum-line display went per usual with every passing minute keeping the conspirators on edge.

The two co-conspirators tried to fight themselves out of their restraints yelling at the imperial guards for mercy for what was about to happen. The ringleader quietly clasped his hands together and muttered something lowly. The spell to the petrification machine was cast and it slowly droned itself to life in a groan. The laser roared in anticipation for its many uses.

At the lever was Warden Wrath. He tentatively grasped the lever as if waiting for the signal.

“Please, sir, have mercy on us!” one of the men, a pig-headed demon yelped, “we’re not with that one-eyed mongrel!”

“Save your complaining,” Warden Wrath answered in his gruff voice.

The man’s screaming continued on until they heard a door opening. Emperor Belos had finally arrived. He stood at the front of the balcony overseeing the people gathered below. He slammed his staff down.

“Children of the Isles, it is by the Titan’s will that you observe the punishments bestowed to these traitors.”

He raised his hand giving Warden Wrath the signal. He nodded and pulled the lever. A laser beam projected from the machine and entered the cage containing the prisoners. The co-conspirators began to panic more wildly. They fell on top of each other in their desperation of avoiding the beam.

“This man claims to speak for the Titan’s will, but I call him a liar!” the one-eyed demon yelled at the top of his lungs.

The laser beam struck the men’s feet and worked its way up their bodies. The agonizing pain surged through their bodies propelling them to collapse onto their knees. They tried to move only to realize that their skeletons had completely transformed to stone. On the inside of their bodies their blood was traded in for minerals. Gray bumps crystallized on the outside of their bodies. Next the magic was leaking into their organs and converting the organic matter into inorganic material. Gravel entered their lungs first in small chunks.

They coughed and heaved from the oxygen quickly escaping from their lungs. Like how tar would accumulate along the person’s alveoli, the chunks of stone clumped together and shut the system down at a steady pace. The hairs in their nostrils soaked in the petrification and filled with more of the stone material. Their hearts filtered the rocky substance and struggled to pump blood through the bodies of the victims.

The ringleader tried to say something else, but his throat was closing in on itself when his windpipe was transformed to stone. Any attempt at activating the magic in his bile sac was fruitless due to it being the first organ to go. And even if by chance the organ still functioned, there was no way he could draw a circle to make it function. Death has come to ease his suffering from what felt like an eternity of pain; the kind of pain you feel when your entire body is broken like an egg and then remodeled. With one final look, his eye glazed over and hardened.

#the owl house #owl house #fanfic #fanfiction #the owl house fanfiction

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clowntramp · 5 years

Text

Chapters 1-4 of Man in The Window Arthur/Joker x Female

Warnings: adult themes, drugs and alcohol, language

A/N: all feedback is appreciated greatly!! Please enjoy my fic!

CHAPTER ONE

She liked watching people, day or night, through her window into theirs with a pair of binoculars. She enjoyed seeing people at their most vulnerable, where they were in their own environments and under the impression that no one was watching. She sometimes would make up stories, elaborate ones, about the people she watched in an attempt to put the strange things she had witnessed into some kind of context. Sometimes she saw things she didn’t want to see, like the old man who would regularly jerk off to a pretty news anchor, or the woman who seemed to enjoy talking to her collection of dolls. She never judged them though, whoever she saw or whatever they did.

Sometimes she would fancy a particular person and watch them constantly. Those were the people who seemed to pique her interest the most, the ones who she could watch for hours on end, regardless of what they were doing. These were also the people who seemed to never close their curtains all the way, inadvertently giving her access to their most intimate doings.

Recently there had been a man that she took a specific interest in. She had watched this man before here and there. He lived with an older woman and seemed to never eat. Sometimes he danced around in his underwear, other times he would stay up late scribbling into a journal. On a specific occasion she watched him dance in his living room with a gun, he accidentally fired it and the sound startled her. She also had watched him touch himself, on a number of different occasions. She felt guilty about that but never looked away. It wasn't until she recognized him on a clip played during the Murray Franklin Show that she really started paying attention.

Her intrigue for this man became definite on random cloudy afternoon. She sat in front of her window with binoculars fixed to her eyes. He was sitting in front of a mirror applying white face paint, taking long drags of his cigarette in between strokes. She observed him with acute attention, taking note of the ritualistic way he applied the makeup, It was almost alluring. Suddenly he got up and went to the door, opening it to reveal two men, one big and one small. She watched curiously as he welcomed the men in, they appeared to conversate. The exchange was brief and then it happened, the thing she never thought would happen in all her time as a window watcher. He did it once in the neck and once in the eye with what appeared to be a knife or scissors. She gawked at the blood and her mouth dropped open when he slammed the big man’s head against the wall, according to her count, approximately ten times. Horrified but enthralled, she continued watching and to her surprise he let the small one go. He was alone again.

She put her binoculars down and retreated back into her room, closing the curtains behind her. She didn't pick up the phone, instead she sat on her bed and turned on the tv. Not wanting to process the events that had just conspired, she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep in the dead of afternoon.

After a few hours her sleep was broken by the sound of a loud audience. She strained at the tv, it was the Murray Franklin Show. She slowly got up to turn it off but stopped when a man waltzed onto the stage sporting a full face of clown makeup and a striking red suit. It was him, she recognized him immediately. Surprised but mostly confused she watched as he planted a big kiss on the woman guest and sat down. He beamed with confidence and she watched on intrigued. The events that happened next shocked her to the core but resonated with her deeply. It was outrageously disturbing but she remained fixated on the tv, almost amused by the fact that she had witnessed this man commit two murders. It was strange to observe such acts of deviance, but it triggered pequliar feelings of liberation and to some degree, a small amount of attraction. The show cut out and she was left staring at the screen with her heart beating fast and her stomach churning.

She didn't sleep that night. Questions swarmed her head, including the question of whether she would see him again, she wanted to but didn’t understand why. It wasn’t until she saw him again that she finally understood why he did what he did and why she learned to admire it.

CHAPTER TWO

She was alone, sitting on the couch, hands intertwining with white knuckles. The taste of blood was strong. She licked her lips tasting the warm iron, and the dried blood under her nose cracked and flaked off onto her lap. For weeks now, fires still raged in the streets and the smell of burning plastic remained caught in her throat.

She didn’t remember how she got there but she was there in the middle of it all. It was the second week of protests. Surrounded by the sound of blaring sirens and jarring cheers, she watched as people lit fire to cars and smashed windows. They were all clowns. Masks and painted smiles glinted in the crowd as she rolled her eyes back taking it all in.

All of a sudden there was a dull sound and an ache ruminating in her jaw and nose. Warmth traveled through her body as she began to process the pain. A uniformed man had struck her with a biton.

She reached into the back of her jeans and withdrew a gun, fingers already moving instinctively to pull back the hammer, she squeezed the trigger. Everything blurred and that’s when the ringing started. She heard a voice call out from next to a body on the pavement,

“He’s dead!”

Cheers erupted as the crowd closed in around her. That’s when she started running and didn’t stop. She had done this before but forgot how long ago it was since the first time.

She didn’t remember how she got home. She lost track of time, days rather, as she often did. She tilted her head back and let the static of the television drown out her thoughts. That’s when she saw it, out of the corner of her eye, a light flicked on across the street illuminating a window she was familiar with. It had been a while.

Her heart started racing as she scrambled to the chair by her window, she gripped the binoculars and held them to her eyes. She saw him dressed in white. She watched as he closed the door behind him. He sank to the ground, smiling and laughing, or sobbing, she couldn’t tell. A satisfied smile slipped onto her face, she winced at the pain as she let her teeth show and she tasted the blood again.

Something came over her, a hot wave of curiosity. She placed the binoculars down and let her legs carry her out of the apartment. She was now standing in front of the building across from hers. Without thinking she opened the door and found the stair corridor, she began to sprint up the steps, two at a time until she reached level B. She walked down the hallway and counted the doors until she arrived at what she thought to be his door. She leaned in close, pressing an ear to the cold metal, and heard him. Before she could stop herself she started to knock.

His laughter got stuck in his throat at the sound of knocking. He choked and coughed while scuttling to his feet. He was sure that no one followed him back, but fear overwhelmed him as he peeked through the eye hole holding his breath. It was a woman. Dried blood caked her face as she looked nervously back and forth down the hall. She knocked again. His mind raced as he reached for the knob, he slowly turned it and opened the door a crack, only to reveal part of his face.

“Can I help you?” He said with a shaky but firm voice.

She looked deeply into the one eye she could see and smiled.

“You’re him.” She said breathlessly. “I’ve seen you, I’ve watched you. You’re the man who killed Murray.”

In that moment he shut the door hard.

“Wait! I’m not police! Please let me in I can explain!” She shouted and knocked again.

He let his head hang as a brief chuckel of distress arose in his throat. Against his better judgement he unlatched the chain lock and opened the door once more. He stood in the frame hunched over as he looked down the hallway and back to the woman.

“Who are you?” He said quietly with his voice cracking. He cleared his throat as he waited for the woman to answer. She smiled again, displaying bloody teeth.

“Please let me in, I can explain.” She spoke in a whisper, as if she was sharing a secret. He grimaced as he looked down the hallway once again. Denying himself of the satisfaction of slamming the door, he opened it further and gestured her in.

“Who are you?” He asked calmly. She frowned in response. He closed the door and latched the lock. “Did you follow me here? Did the hospital send you?”

“No.” she replied as her gaze shifted and settled onto the floor.

Not sure of what to do, he shoved a shaky hand through his hair, smoothing the strands behind his ear. He took a deep breath looked her up and down again. “Then why are you here?”

She looked around the room for an answer and began to walk towards the living room window. He stepped out of her way and remained standing by the door as he watched. She lifted an arm and pointed to the building across the street.

“I live there, and I’ve watched you, from that window.” His eyes followed her arm as she continued to point.

“What do you mean you’ve watched me?” He asked and let out a bashful giggle. She turned around and met his eyes smiling.

“I like to watch people through my window and I noticed you-“ she was cut off before she could finish.

“You noticed me?” A child-like smile slipped onto his face

“Yes, how could I not? I saw that clip on Murray and recognized you, so I started watching you more from my window.” Her smile dropped and her eyes met the floor when she realized how embarrassing it was to admit this out loud. But she continued, “then I saw you on Murray again, except you were different this time, it was captivating.”

He felt blood rush to his cheeks as he closed his eyes and smiled, letting out a happy sigh. “I know. Can you believe I did all this?” gesturing to the window where the streets below remained filled with crowds of clowns. He let out a true laugh and looked at the woman once more. “So, you’ve watched me before? What have you seen me done, huh?”

He dug into his pocket and retrieved a pack of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it as he waited for the woman to respond. She watched as he took a deep drag, silence filled the air, except for the quiet crackle of embers, he took another drag.

“Would you like one?” He asked holding one out. She took it out of his hand without saying anything and pulled a lighter out of her back pocket. She took a long drag and began to speak,

“Well, I’ve seen you do a couple noticeable things,” she took another drag and started pacing, “I’ve seen you dance, which is very impressive,” he smiled at this while she continued, “and I’ve often seen you with an older woman, but I think I have seen something that I’m sure I wasn’t meant to see.”

He took a seat on the couch and leaned back crossing his legs, his cadence was slow as he carefully spoke, articulating his words, “yeah? And what did you see?”

She spoke slowly, “I saw you kill that man, the day you killed Murray.” He raised his eyebrows in response.

“You saw that, really?” he asked smiling. She nodded slowly and shifted her gaze back towards the window.

“You started a movement you know,” she spoke softly, “things are changing because of you.”

He stifled a laugh, clearing his throat and speaking again, as if saying a punchline, “I started it but they are finishing it.” He sucked on the last inch of cigarette before flicking it to the floor, “I heard someone shot another cop tonight. Can you believe that?” With closed eyes he laughed again, then returned his gaze to the woman.

“I know. I was the one who shot the cop,” she said smiling. He giggled and lit another cigarette.

“Is that so? Now you came here to thank me or something?” he asked gently.

“Actually I did,” she answered mirroring his tone, “and I wanted to meet the man responsible for the greatest revolution Gotham will ever see.”

CHAPTER 3

She was sitting in front of a mirror framed with flickering incandescent bulbs. The room was stiff with the smell of tobacco and cheap perfume. There was a pair of girls sitting on the couch behind her, they counted stacks of money out of big black plastic bags as she applied a deep blush to her cheeks. The Minx Carbert was as cliché as it sounds. It was past midnight, she didn’t recall leaving his apartment. She looked into her reflection straining to remember. Everything was blurred, memories with soft edges faded into each other, unrecognizable and out of reach.

“Gentlemen, let's give a warm welcome to our next dancer, she’s beautiful, she’s strange, and she’s got discounted lap dances for seniors, it’s the magnificent and mysterious Carmen!”

Sparse claps filled the room as she walked across the stage. Jazz music swelled as the spotlight settled on her, she took a deep breath, and began. It was second nature at this point, dancing for the male gaze, which she felt burn a hole through her body. The lights were hot, and sweat started to form at her hairline as she observed the shadowed faces that littered the crowd. Men who all looked the same stared back with lazy drunken smiles. She moved across the stage hypnotically and mindless, losing herself in the sultry music.

“Alright let’s give it up for Carmen! If you’re interested in a lap dance from this lovely peach please go to the back room where she will be waiting!”

No one clapped as she finished her set and stepped down from the stage. She made her way to the back room where worn red velvet curtains took the place of a door and a dark blue neon light flickered in the corner. She took a seat on the couch and waited. A couple of minutes passed before the owner walked in. He looked like the rest of the men who frequented the club, sad, old and lonely.

“Hey doll, there is a strange looking guy here who wants to pay for a dance but doesn’t want you to dance. It’s weird, I know, but it’s money hun so just give him the time and shout if he tries to do anything. He doesn’t look right to me.”

“Alright, thanks for the heads up Mike.” She sighed and reached for a pack of cigarettes on the adjacent table as he left the room. She struck a match and inhaled deeply relaxing back into the chair. The strange man then entered, head down and hands buried deep in his pockets. She took another drag of her cigarette and stood up. It was him.

He wasn’t wearing the sterile white he had on before, instead he sported a brown sweater with a white collared shirt peeking out underneath accompanied with polyester blue dress pants. His salt and pepper whiskers framed his worn face and hollowed cheeks. He shifted his feet in the uncomfortable silence as she remained standing and staring at him. He mumbled a stuttered hello and passed a hand through his hair anxiously, waiting for her to say something, anything, back.

She broke the awkward silence, “what can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” he stuttered, “I don’t want anything like that I mean.” His gaze fell to the floor as he felt his cheeks grow red. He was different, he wasn’t the man in the pretty red suit and painted face, this man was meek and subtle.

“Then why are you here?” She responded, genuinely confused.

“You told me you worked here and invited me to the show tonight, remember?” His words sounded hopeful.

She didn’t remember saying that at all. But then again she barely remembered going to his apartment in the first place, or how she got to work, she could only recall vague bits and pieces that came in and out like a dream she couldn’t shake.

“Well thank you for coming, I appreciate it very much.” She forced a smile and sat back down. He remained standing as he watched her light another cigarette.

He cleared his throat, taking his hands out of his pockets and taking a seat on the table with crossed legs. He leaned in close, looking into her eyes which were framed with swirls of smoke, “you know, you’re a really good dancer.” He smiled confidently and sat up straight, “those other girls don’t dance like you do.”

She smiled at this and let out a stifled laugh. “Thank you, that’s very sweet. I’m just doing my job.”

“Well you’re very good at it.” he said quietly, smiling wide and almost whispering. Suddenly he spotted the pack of cigarettes on the table and took one without asking, he placed it between his lips and leaned in close to the woman, silently asking her to light his cigarette with hers. She got the hint and leaned in. She had never been that close to him, even when she was at his apartment they kept a safe distance. Their heads were almost touching when the cigarette lit and she could smell his woody floral cologne. It was subtle but recognizable and when mixed with smoke it was intoxicating, although she refused to admit this to herself.

He took a deep audible drag, leaning back on his free hand, exhaling the smoke slowly. He shifted in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs nervously, but still maintaining a smile. She seemed more reserved than when she was at his apartment, less manic but still blank behind the eyes.

“So,” he said cautiously, taking another drag, “I really came here because I wanted to ask you something…” he trailed off and began bouncing his legs anxiously. She could sense the unease within him.

“Sure, ask me anything.” She said in her most soothing tone, familiar with the terrors of social anxiety, knowing that a calm voice always helps.

“That day, when I killed Murray,” he whispered, “and you saw me kill that other man,” he looked around the room nervously, “were you scared?” His eyes settled into hers as his lips remained parted, waiting for her to answer.

She stared back at him as she toyed with the cigarette in her hand and the question in her head. She knew the answer to the question but found satisfaction in letting it hang in the air.

“No. I wasn’t scared. I was more excited than anything.” She said this confidently as she watched a wide smile slip onto his face. “I don’t know that man or what he did, but just like Murray, I know he deserved it. And even if he didn’t, what I saw reminded me of a part of myself that I’ve tried so hard to forget. It was liberating.”

He was satisfied with this answer and let it show on his face. But his cheeks still burned and legs still bounced. He found himself nervous around women in general, despite being liberated from his past. The old side of him was fighting the new and he wasn’t sure who would win. Little did he know, the woman was experiencing the same thing. Both sides of them were evenly odd. They had more in common then they would ever know.

Silence fell as the two just looked at each other. Suddenly Mike popped his head out from behind the curtain, they both turned their gaze to him.

“Eh sorry to interrupt but we got an older gentleman here and he would like a lap dance from you missy. So this guy has gotta go in 5” With that he left the room.

They both stood up awkwardly and he began to speak, “I’m sorry. I’ll leave, you’re busy I shouldn’t have bothered you.” He frowned and furrowed his brow as he turned to leave.

“Wait, I’m sorry my boss is a jerk. I get off in a couple hours, I can come over, I mean only if you have anymore questions for me or whatever.” She tried so hard not to sound desperate.

He tried to hold back a smile by looking at the floor, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah, I guess I have a couple more questions, you can come over.” It was a poor attempt at sounding casual.

They looked at one another again and he threw up an awkward wave as he turned and left. Once alone again she smiled and sat back down. She had emptied her mind once the old man came limping in.

CHAPTER 4

She was there again, in front of his door, this time clutching a bottle of red wine with one hand and a lit cigarette with the other. It was late, and she had decided to give a couple more lap dances before leaving the club around 2am. She didn’t want to but she needed the money. And now she stood in front of his door hoping she wasn’t too late. She reached up to knock but hesitated, questioning her motives briefly. She was mostly curious, partially driven by the fact that she couldn’t recall inviting him to the club. She hoped she could put the pieces together, maybe talking to him would trigger her memory.

She flicked her cigarette and knocked. The fluorescent lights were humming a soft tune accompanied by the jarring pangs of gunshots and sirens. She regretted staying late, but she still needed money even if the city was burning. She counted as ten long seconds passed. He was probably sleeping.

Suddenly the door opened, causing her to flinch. He looked at the floor smiling and stepped aside ushering her in gently without a word. He was wearing the same pants but with a cream button down and a dark blue vest, which pinched in the back accentuating his boyish silhouette. His hair was still damp and she noticed the thick scent of aftershave as he closed the door behind her.

He turned around and she noticed his freshly shaved face, it looked young and innocent.

“I brought wine,” she said quietly while holding up the bottle, “I don’t know if you drink, you can have some of course I mean, if you do drink.” She stammered over her words painfully.

“That’s okay,” he said softly, “I don’t really drink, but thank you.”

She was surprised to hear this. “Are You sure? You’re really going to make me drink alone?” The bottle was already open, she took a large sip, raising her eyebrows at him, offering up her most enticing smile. She hated drinking alone, but had gotten used to it.

He opened his mouth to object but refrained and instead walked over to her, taking the bottle out of her hand. He let out a stifled nassely laugh as he rose the bottle to his lips. He took a long gulp and mirrored her smirk. Warmth hit his empty stomach and he took another sip.

He handed her the bottle smiling. “If you want, I can grab us some glasses from the kitchen.”

“No, thanks, I prefer the bottle.” She took another sip, or a chug rather, and he stared at her intrigued.

“We can sit down if you want.” He gestured to the couch as she lifted the bottle to her lips once more. She let out a satisfied sigh after she swallowed and silently took a seat, tipping her head back and closing her eyes

He took a seat next to her, but not too close, and took the bottle out out of her idle hand. She looked up drowsily, watching his throat twitch as he took a few big gulps.

He sighed and placed the bottle down on the coffee table, which was cluttered with newspaper clippings and magazines. She watched as he leaned back into the couch, stretching his legs out. He turned his head and looked at her playfully,

“So, did it bother you?” he asked gently. She pretended not to know what he was talking about and reached for the bottle.

“Did what bother me?” she took another sip of wine and stared at him, hoping he would elaborate. She wanted to hear the words come out of his mouth, her ego needed it.

He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in close to her, speaking through his teeth, “when you shot that cop, did it bother you?”

She smiled at him casually, satisfied, and sat up a little. She took another swig and let out a mumbled “no.”

He smirked at her response and adjusted his positioning on the couch so he was facing her. “It didn’t bother me,” he let out a snort of laughter, “when I killed those three guys on the train, or Murray, or Randel, or my mother…” he trailed off mumbling as if reliving a blissful memory.

This was the man she remembered seeing on the Murray show, the one who’s confidence seemed to spill from his eyes. The man who came to the club earlier that night was different, less potent, she liked this version better.

Her brows arched in response to this and her lips twitched into a slight smile, “I didn’t know you killed your mother,” she said casually.

He ran a hand through his hair, “yeahhh,” he said sighing, almost bragging. His eyes flickered around the room nervously, “so have you killed anyone, I mean besides that cop?” He asked this question nonchalantly, as his fingers tapped on his thigh.

The informal way he delivered such heavy words made her stomach twinge with satisfaction. She never thought she would come across another person like herself, one who took joy in their acts of deviance. The thought of this made her smile.

“the cop wasn’t my first,” she muttered, with her lips on the bottle. “I’ve never told anyone about it, but the first one was a while ago, I was younger, but I don’t really remember.” She tilted her head back and took another long chug of wine, then passed the bottle to him. “I have this memory problem,” she continued as he drank, “I lose time, often. I almost blackout, and forget where I’m going or how I got there. That’s what happened with the first one.”

“Then how do you know it happened?” He asked amusingly while drawing the bottle up to his lips, taking another sip.

“Well,” she said hesitantly while looking around the room, “the last thing I remember was that I was in a car, it was dark out, I was covered in blood and the guy next to me was dead.” She smirked.

He passed the bottle back to her, “sounds to me like you’re a bad date.”

She tried to stifle a laugh but couldn’t and let out a childish giggle. He grinned back at her.

“You’re not going to tell on me right?” She asked playfully.

He flashed a toothy smile, “of course not! As long as you don’t tell on me.” He winked and dug around in his pockets, pulling out a package of cigs and a lighter.

She placed the bottle down on the coffee table, finally noticing all the clutter. Her eyes scanned the various newspaper clippings, most of which had his mugshot plastered on them. Then she noticed the magazine clippings, and questioned how she hadn’t noticed them earlier. Torn pages from Playboy and Hustler were scattered about amidst sloppy cut-outs of nude women. Hard scribbles covered their faces while the rest of their bodies were untainted. She reached out and picked up a page, the woman was fully naked and spread eagle, her head was cut off.

She looked back at him curiously. He was lighting the cigarette now, oblivious to her shuffling through his papers. He took a long drag with eyes closed as she stared at him. Then he looked up and saw what she was doing. She noticed the color drain from his face as he widened his eyes, clearly embarrassed. He started to stutter.

“I-I’m, I’m s-sorry.” He let out a snort of pained laughter as he frantically got up and started gathering up the papers on the table. In between the rummaging he covered his mouth hard in an attempt to silence his laughter. She cringed at his clear discomfort.

“No im sorry,” she said firmly, “I shouldn’t just be going through your things like that, I’m so sorry.” He wheezed hard and she reached up and placed a hand on his arm. He tensed up immediately and let out another bout of pained cackles before gathering up the other papers and stumbling into the other room. He slammed the door behind him. She remained seated, listening closely to his muffled howls. The sounds of his distress made a knot form in her stomach, and before she could stop herself, she was at the bedroom door knocking lightly.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, I really am,” she said in her most soothing voice, “please, it’s nothing to be ashamed about, I have magazines of my own too ya know, please I really didn’t mean to upset you, please come out.” She didn’t recognize the voice that came out of her, it was sweet and forgiving, lacking the harshness she had worked so hard to perfect.

She stepped back from the door as his laughter subsided, taking a moment to debate whether she should just leave and never bother him again. She turned around and walked back to the now empty table, picking up the wine and taking a big chug. Silence had filled the air again and she looked to the door anxiously. She wondered briefly if he would come out and stab her in a frenzied rage. That’s what she would have done if a stranger came to her apartment and rummaged through her collection of porn.

She played this image out in her head vividly. The idea of a sharp pain and then the euphoric tingle of blood draining from her body sent a shiver up her neck. She wouldn’t mind going out that way, she had always assumed that her life would end in the hands of a violent man, or herself. She wouldn’t put up a fight either, she would surrender easily, finding comfort in the fact that she got to share one of her many secrets before settling into the black oblivion of death.

The bedroom door creaked open, bringing her back to reality. He stood in the door frame, hands buried in the pockets of his pants, his fiery gaze fixed to hers. She felt the unease that settled in the space between them, it made her squirm with anxiety. She was ashamed of herself, of how she had made him upset.

She mirrored his posture and hung her head in shame. The wine hit her stomach hard and she felt dizzy with contempt. She wanted to fall to her knees out of absolution. She couldn’t fathom why she felt the way she did. She had never felt remorse for making others feel bad, she actually took joy in it, but this was different. She wanted this feeling to go away, it was unfamiliar, unrecognizable. She silently hoped that he would walk over and slap her, she wanted to feel anything other than this feeling. In that moment she had a mad craving to smash something up, a department store, say, or a cathedral, or herself. Anything to escape this feeling.

He was standing in front of her now but her eyes remained fixed on the floor. He reached up and took her chin in his hand, raising her head to meet his eyes. The gentle touch grounded her back to reality and she looked into his eyes.

He smiled softly. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” he whispered.

His words hit her like a brick to the chest, she opened her mouth to object, but the words never came out. He released her chin and let silence hang in the air as she desperately searched his eyes for an explanation. But there wasn’t one, and she knew this.

With that she clutched the wine bottle close to her chest and left his apartment in silence. He followed her to the door and closed it behind her. Alone again in the dim hallway, she took another chug of wine and let herself surrender to the habitual warmth of time beginning to fade.

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck joker #joker #joker 2019 #joker fic #arthur fleck #arthur fleck fic #joker x reader #joker x oc #clowntramp writes

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nomnomsik · 5 years

Text

To Catch a Dream - (11)

It’s difficult for Yoongi, who’s completely infatuated with you, to quietly remain your college friend. With a slow appearance of unusual tendencies in him, he realizes what he needs to do to attain his dream. However, jealousy and possession are universal in everyone.

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: A Turning point.

Trigger warning: physical pain, emotional manipulation, panic attack, profanity, needles, yandere themes. Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics.

Ever since the night of the graduation, you officially moved in with Yoongi. It was his same empty apartment, but the only thing that was different was the photo frame that sat on his coffee table. Ever since his outburst, Yoongi had returned to his usual reserved self, always giving you a small smile when he came back home to see you all wrapped up in his blankets. Your skin was still aching from his little marks and bites. Though, to you, it was relieving that things were slowly getting better. Everything could be back to how they usually were.

Even before graduation, Yoongi was lucky enough to receive several job offers. One specifically came from an organization he had always wanted to work with. As you dumped all the other mail off on the kitchen counter one afternoon, you tore open the letter. You read its contents, happy to see he had been accepted.

When Yoongi walked in later that day, his body hunched as his bag dropped onto the floor, you pointed at the envelope. His face was bright and you could still remember the way his lips curled up and his cheeks stuck out. It was as if he couldn’t believe it himself. A part inside of you couldn’t help but be envious.

On the other hand, you still contemplated with your future. Yoongi had reassured you to take your time, promising to take care of you no matter how long it took. Then again, Yoongi had suggested that you should stay home. Ever since that incident with Jimin, you were aware of his worries and anxiousness. It was as if he needed to make sure nothing like that would happen again. You didn’t really understand how that equated to you needing to stay at home, but you knew Yoongi as a man who enjoyed pampering you.

Your personality didn’t change, in fact, you didn’t want to change the person you were either. But, you couldn’t help the lingering feeling of caution whenever you spoke to him. There was guilt in your eyes whenever you met Yoongi’s stare from across the room. The memory lingered in your mind as you remembered Jimin’s soft lips on yours and the horrible reality that you didn’t throw him off. After all, you were a cheater like he said.

Yoongi had carefully and sternly instructed you to not leave the apartment. You had felt wronged when he told you, but when you were about to retort, your mouth failed you. No words could leave and to make matters worse, your throat constricted painfully.

But you didn’t listen to him. ‘What was the point?’ you would argue to yourself. Why should you listen? Why should your freedom be restricted just because of what he said? It wouldn’t matter as long as he never caught you. It wouldn’t matter if he never knew in the first place. How mad would he even get?

That day, you dressed and left, strolling around the streets of the city. You were humming to yourself as you had a sweet drink from one of the cafes in the city, your feet carrying you around the corner.

However, as you waited during the second phase of rush hour for the next metro, you felt a chill down your back. You suddenly felt self-conscious and it was as if you were being watched. You looked both left and right, feeling your heart drop as you saw a familiar bucket hat in the distance.

You took several steps back, turning away from the platform. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest as you realized you were about to get caught. With a sudden push of the crowd, you busted your way through, hurrying up the stairs. As you turned your head to check behind you, you expected to see him chasing after you. But you soon realized, that your eyes merely played you.

Your heartbeat relaxed, yet you couldn’t go back down the stairs. Instead, you headed back home, dragging your feet into the apartment and closing the door. It was simple after that. You didn’t sneak out again. It felt better to not have this constant feeling of paranoia looming over you. In a way, you also enjoyed staying in, escaping from your problems for a few hours a day.

One particular morning, you were awakened from your afternoon nap with the ringing of your phone. You groaned, turning over to the side, your arm reaching for the device even when hair fell overtop of your face.

“Hello?” You groaned, your throat dry and weak.

“Hi, y/n… Were you sleeping?”

“Mmm…” You hummed.

“Well, y/n. We need to talk. It’s an emergency. Come pay us a visit.”

You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. “Emergency? What’s wrong?”

“We’ll talk about it when you get here.”

“Mm, okay. Bye, mom.”

“Bye~”

With a click of the phone, you brought the silent receiver down from your ear. You tossed it on the mattress, stretching both arms above your head. As you stood up, your body wobbled, feet dragging behind you. You tossed on whatever your hand immediately grabbed and walked back to retrieve your phone.

You pulled up Yoongi’s contact, fingers typing away a message.

You: I’m going to visit my mother. She called me. I’ll be back later.

Before you clicked off your phone, it vibrated alerting you immediately of Yoongi’s reply.

Yoonyoon: No.

You looked at your phone confusingly as you shut the door to the apartment shut, locking the front door. Did he mistake you for someone else?

Yoonyoon: Don’t go, y/n.

You: Are you okay? Do you know what you’re saying?

Your feet carried you until you slid your card through, waiting for the train to ride you back to the suburban area. Your phone vibrated again in your pocket as you saw another notification from Yoongi.

Yoonyoon: Are you still home?

You: No I’m waiting to board the train.

Then suddenly, a barrage of messages flooded your phone. You felt the multiple vibrations in your hand as you just stared at the dozen of messages that popped up.

Yoonyoon: You better go back home.

Yoonyoon: NOW.

Yoonyoon: I’m not joki gn y/n

Yoonyoon: Go home. I swear

Yoonyoon: I swear if you’re not home when I get there.

You nervously stood there, the train pulling up from the corner of your eye.

You: We’ll discuss this later, okay?

Yoonyoon: NO COME BACK HOME NOW

Yoonyoon: I swear to god if you're not home when I’m back there

Before your eyes checked the next message, you boarded the train, taking a seat near the door. When you looked back at your phone, your stomach fell.

Yoonyoon: I’m leaving work and coming home now

Yoonyoon: You better be back when I’m there

You just stared at his recent message, unable to reply back. Your hands shook and your heart felt like it was breaking into pieces. Why is he acting like this? Why is he being so irrational? A small frown formed on your face as your breathing increased. Why is he acting this way? Why? Your head felt light as the beginning of a headache began to form. Your chest hurt, a burn flashing flooding your vision as you struggled to hold on as the train jerked forward.

Tears streamed down your face as you experienced a panic attack. What had you just done? Yoongi was now angry. You wouldn’t be home because you decided to be stubborn and not listen to him. You decided that it was better to disregard his feelings and concerns, just for your own selfish needs. Hadn’t you already been selfish enough? Hadn’t you already hurt him enough? All he wanted was to make sure you still were loyal and trustworthy, yet you couldn’t even listen to him once. You broke his heart and yet you couldn’t do the right thing.

You felt humiliated by the small group of people who stared at your crying face. They only looked at you with pity, not wanting to involve themselves in your problem. Nowadays, people didn’t want to be involved in your problems. As long as it didn’t concern them, what was the point?

You had refused to look back at your phone. You were too scared and weak, too much of a coward to face things. It was always like this. You were always running away from confrontation because you were a coward. Do you remember what you did when your classmates decided to conspire against you, even though their argument was completely valid? You ran. You ran because you were always weak from the beginning. If things weren’t going your way, you defied. It was something ingrained in you. You always got revenge in the end.

As you opened the front door to your warm home, you were greeted by two pairs of strong arms that embraced you.

“Hi, mom and dad.” You mumbled into their arms.

“Hi, now come. We have to talk about things.” Your mother ushered you into the dining room table, the same space where you had sat with Yoongi. As you took a seat, both of your parents sat across you, your mother with her hands folded on the table.

“We’re worried, y/n. Is everything fine with you and Yoongi?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we heard about what happened during graduation… And-”

Ah… This is embarrassing.

“Mom, I think I know what you’re going to say, but I can assure you that I am not cheating on Yoongi. We talked about it together and I promise we resolved it and talked it out.” You stated as a matter of factly, afraid that they might disapprove your relationship.

If only they knew what you had just gone through. How disappointed they would be.

“That’s relieving to hear, y/n. After all, Yoongi has done so much for you. He takes care of you and lets you stay in his apartment without having to pay anything in return. Are you two planning to…?” Your mother sighed in relief.

“Y-yes…Hopefully, I think we’re probably going to get married. He and I talk about it a lot.”

“Oh, and y/n, make extra sure you two get married, okay?” She clasped her hands together in glee, squealing as if she, herself, was getting engaged. “That’ll make me really happy. I’m so happy for you!”

“Honey, don’t pressure her so much. She’s still so young-” Your father reasoned, feeling uncomfortable.

“You shush! Don’t ruin her chances!” Your mother snapped, hitting his shoulder. Your father flinched, bowing his head down in obedience. “See, this is why you need me.”

Your mother redirected her attention back to you, smiling again.

“Remember y/n, Yoongi is a very ideal partner for you. Why would you go and give him up for someone who’ll call you sensitive and weak? You do cry a lot. Do you think any man will want a weak-willed woman?”

You gulped, looking down at your lap.

“...No…”

»»————- ♡ ————-««

Yoongi anxiously unlocked the front door of his apartment, yanking it open. He was met with an empty living room and discarded blankets. He clenched his jaw, his hands forming into fists as he threw his bag onto the ground.

He thoroughly checked every room, only to find nothing. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he clicked onto your contact, desperate for any message back. There was nothing. He brought his phone up to his ear and he dialed your number, biting the tips of his nails.

He sat there, his legs bouncing up and down until he was greeted with the cheerful voice of your voicemail. Yoongi sighed, throwing his phone down onto the sofa as he buried his hands in his hair.

“She’s going to leave me… She’s going to leave me!” He wailed, rocking his body back and forth. “She...She’s probably talking about marrying Jimin instead… That’s why that’s why…!” He screamed, tugging onto his hair even harder than before.

“It’s over… Everything, I did… It’s going to be all for nothing…” Yoongi groaned as he stumbled into his office room. “I can’t… I can’t let that happen.” He pulled open a cabinet drawer, his eyes going black and out of focus.

“It’d rather kill her than let her leave.”

»»————- ♡ ————-««

It was late at night when you had finally arrived back in the city. The hour and a half commute tiring out your body. How you couldn’t wait to just fall down on the piles of blankets and soft cushions. But, the only thing that kept you alert was Yoongi.

Your mind raced with thoughts and scenarios that played in your mind. How would react? He seemed really angry and different overall. He had never acted that way before and you couldn’t forget the fact he had made you cry out in fear.

As the elevator ascended, you grabbed your key. The elevator door opened with a ding, your feet walking on the soft red carpet of the hallway. It was always strange to you that you had never seen another person walking on this floor. There was always an elevator ready and despite living on this floor, you had at least expected to run into someone. But, you didn’t.

With a harsh snap, you flipped the key, unlocking the front door. Immediately, you were greeted with a darkness that contrasted the bright hallway.

Is he sleeping?

You poked your heart in, slowly pushing the door all the way. You jumped, immediately spotting the dark figure that sat on the couch. You could make out Yoongi’s body from the light that seeped in from windows.

“Yoongi? What are you d-doing up so late?” You stuttered, slowly closing the apartment door shut. “You have work tomorrow…”

Yoongi didn’t move from his spot on the couch nor did he lift his head up.

“Yoongi?...” The air was quiet and still in the night. The only lights came from the other buildings in the city. The whole entire room was filled with dark blue, the curtains open to fully display the faded night sky. “O-oh, that’s right. My mother wanted to see me. We were talking abou-”

You faltered as Yoongi rose from the couch, slowly walking over to you. You subconsciously took several steps back. It was a sensation you had never felt before with him. Why did you feel so scared? Why did you feel like he could hurt you right now?

“Why didn’t you listen to me?” He muttered, his bangs covering his eyes. Your lip quivered as you stared up at him. He grit upon no response. “Hmm? Well? Are you going to answer me?”

“Well… I mean, I was already on the train when you told me you were coming back…” You whispered, your voice fading out. You back hit the door frame and your left hand reached for the doorknob behind you.

“So you left the apartment first and then decided to tell me?” He accused, almost an arm’s length away from you. “You couldn’t listen to my instructions?”

“Yoongi, why are you acting like this?” You whimpered. This didn’t feel safe. Everything in your body screamed at you. His dark expression, his harsh voice, and his stance terrified you. You couldn’t even see his expression to study the emotions he was going through.

GET OUT. RUN. THIS ISN’T RIGHT.

In an instant, you turned around, pulling the door open in an attempt to sprint out. Before you could get your other foot at the door, you were grabbed back in.

“Ahh!” You screamed as an intense pain shot through your scalp as Yoongi grabbed onto your hair and threw you back in.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? Are you going to run away to him? Huh?! Do you think I’m going to let you run back to Jimin?!” He seethed, his voice rising in intensity.

As you collided with the floor, Yoongi slammed the door shut, locking it. You instinctively brought your hands up to your head in an attempt to cradle the pain from the impact. You cried from the pain, tears running down your face.

“What are you talking about?!” You screamed back, your voice cracking multiple times. “What does Jimin have to do with this?! I was talking about when we would marry, you asshole!” You grabbed onto your shirt, the pain shooting through your body. “Ahh, it hurts. Everything hurts…” You cried, your body failing to respond to your commands.

Yoongi stumbled forward, wrapping his arms you and taking a whiff of your scent. You felt the way his muscles relaxed as he embraced you.

“I’m happy, y/n… But… That doesn’t mean I’m letting you disobeying me slide.” He murmured in your ear. Yoongi reached for his belt, sliding out a syringe, fully filled with a clear liquid. You tensed, shuffling and trying to push him away as the needle approached.

“Wait, wait, what… No! No! Stop, stop! Please!” You screamed, fearing the image of a sharp prick piercing your skin. Yoongi brought it down with so much force he had to cover your mouth from the scream. He watched as your body spasmed from the impact. He administered a small amount before dropping your body onto the ground.

“Now you’ll know how I feel… It’s all because I love you.”

“So much.”

Chapter 12

#yandere bts #yandere yoongi #yandere yoongi x reader #to catch a dream #yoongi x reader #yandere suga #suga x reader #yoongi #bts fanfiction #bts series #bts writing #yandere suga x reader #yandere yoongi x you #yoongi x you

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4evertiredpigeon · 5 years

Text

Got Played 1/5- a plance short in shorts.

Lance felt as if the whole universe conspired against him. But at least all his teammates. In their defense they claimed that they were only passing down some good old forever true knowledge. He felt otherwise. From these "marvelous" "a D v i C e S" he made his own conclusions and set some new rules to aide his similarly unfortunate situations in the probably disturbingly close future.

His body flinched as he took the turn on the corridor. The first rule seemed the most easily avoidable and yet!? and yet that was the only reason the whole damn ballon bursted. Oh if he had known it earlier...

Rule No. 1 - Keep Keith's astonishment between four walls.

This accident - or blessing, depending from person - occured 2 weeks ago on the bridge. For some quintant the internal communication of the ship was lagging. So Pidge and Koran tried to fix it but to test if they actually managed to fix it, the whole crew's presence was required. In different rooms.

Lance was at the bridge, deep in thoughts, lying whole chest down at the main contorol desk. His mind was deeply occupied with useless thoughts trying to distract him form a specific one, a relentless daydream that haunted his mind for some month now. One of the thoughts was a rambling static noise which he had no idea how his mind made up but it was equally as annoying as the daydream he tried to avoid.

Fantastic, - he thought - thinking is useless.

He took a deep breath but it escaped along with his soul when a hand violently landed 2cms away from him on the desk.

- Pidge it's Keith, Lance is still alive.

- Barely, tell her you almost killed me!

The walking mullet opened his mouth to respond but on the other side of his head set a specific green mini boss was probably faster because he reached for his ear plug and pushed a button instead.

"You deserved it"

Great- thought Lance - now the daydream is talking.

"We opened the internal com 5 mins ago but you didn't respond, we figured it didn't work but you made us worry by not responding through the headset."

Lance shyly glanced at the mentioned device, left at the other side at the table when he had started rolling around in his chair. Then his eyes landed at the annoyed Keith then at his hands on the table cowering exactly the internal com respond button. Oh well, so the static noise wasn't just his imagination.

- Oh you were worried i might got attacked by an unexpected galra spy? - his 1000 watt smile appeared along with the finger guns, he can joke this away.

"I bet he is doing that unusual cheap weapon imitation with his hands"

Ouch, the new voice was unexpected but toucgé ginger moustache, touché.

Lance's smile froze onto his face. He would not had minded if the daydream's voice came back. He preferred getting roasted by her.

- I didn't worry.

" We know Keith"

- I told you he almost bored himself to death.

"Thanks Keith."

Deep sight was next, the people on the other side of the line were clearly exhausted.

- I'm sorry i caused trouble, i'll get back to my watch. - said Lance as he put up his head set. But he thought it was especially cruel from Pidge to put him into a room all alone. He wouldn't have minded some company.

"We hope so... But Keith is gonna stay with you while we get back to you with a solution"

- What, no! I don't approve!!!

Lance already turned on his head set but Keith was still in the room on his way out so Lance had the pleasure to enjoy double the volume of his surprise. Not like he didn't agree with him now. Keith was not exactly the company he asked for.

- I don't need a baby sitter i'm gonna be fine.

"It wasn't a request"

The line signed off afterward. Lance decided not to distract Pidge more, none of them were getting the other's vibe now. Adjusting his headset he leaned back on his chair and tried to relax. Key word is the tried because his relaxation was intertupted by the annoyed intense gaze of the mullet from the edge of his vision.

- What?

- What's wrong with you?

- Excuse me?

Keith sighed deeply leaning to the table. Of course Lance plays dumb. He always plays dumb when it's something he doesn't want to talk about.

- You are unusually unfocused these days. Not like you are not all over the place in general but now it's chaotic!

Lance's lips curled into a painful smile.

- It's nothing... it will go away soon.

- It's not nothing if it affects you this much and i don't want it to go away soon it should be gone by this afternoon!

Lance bursted into laughing.

- You think i didn't try?! I did but this feeling is stuck and i can't help but be stuck in it because clearly she is not interested!

So i'll wait until it dies away. - but he didn't have the heart to say the last sentence out loud.

Keith collected the information crumbs.

- I don't get it, you still flirt with Allura casually, you did it just this morning, what's with the sudden realisation that she is not interested?

- It's not Allur...

Lance shut up immediately as he realized he almsot gave away everything.

Keith's jaw dropped, he had to rely on the table for support.

- Pidge... you have a crush on Pidge?!

Lance's face was a new shade of red.

- No! I mean yeahhh but don't... don't say it out that just makes it more real!

- Oh yes man finally! Now Koran owns me and Shiro a test drive on his vereran antique altean car!

Now it was Lances time to be astonished. But it was too soon.

"Correct"

Came a sad ginger answer from... their head set?

- Koran...

"We tried a new solution which first seemed too easy to work and started the line but before we could got to you it opened from the other side too... i'm happy to announce that surprisingly it was a correct solution... "

Lance was like confused frozen chameleon. His colour was changing between angry red and dead white. Keith had a little bit more self presence so he carefully responded

- Soo the inner com is on again...

"Oh it is clear and better than ever, and you also seemed to test the ship's announcer as well..."

Lance's glance finally moved, Keith followed it only to realise his arm on the table, pushing down a nice amount of buttons... He looked back to Lance who had a similarly horrified look on his face.

- And how much did you...

"All the important stuff... eghm... Good work everyone the internal com is on again, let's wrap it up for today"

Said Koran as an attempt to end the awkward atmosphere but Keith didn't hear it. He was running for his life.

Author's note: hey guys, i hope you liked the first piece of the story i'm working on, 4 more parts ahead... yeeey... they are not written yet but i'm one it. This fanfic only exist because of the determined never ending nagging/encouragement of my dear friend @toocool2btrue , my favourite fanfic writer out there, check her out, her stories are the essential water that our garden needs!!! 💚💙🌱

Pls leave a note and share if you liked it, feedback is much much appreciated!

#plance garden #plance #fanfic #pidge × lance #lance #voltron lance #lance mcclain #pidgance #voltron pidge #pidge #katie holt #voltron au #voltron hunk #voltron #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #keith (voltron)#vld keith #allura

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paperanddice · 5 years

Text

Gypsosphinx

With the head of a vulture, gypsosphinxes are immediately slid into the role of designated evil sphinx in 5th edition. Vultures really do get a bad rap in popular culture, being associated with death, despite their vital role in helping remove rotting waste from the environment. Scavengers and anything that specifically hunts for corpses to eat just reads as evil to us, and so is reflected in our games and stories.

I could swear that I’ve seen vulture headed sphinxes in other D&D products, but I haven’t been able to find it in any of the main books. Third edition had the “standard” andro, gyno, crio, heiraco quartet that Pathfinder eventually built up to as well, plus several more animal headed ones that showed up in Sandstorm, but I cannot for the life of me find where I have memories of another vulture headed sphinx from. I guess for now I’lll have to treat the Tome of Beasts as my initial source and simply work from there.

The fluff of the gypsosphinx makes a great many references to carrion and corpses. They’ll follow war bands in the desert to raid corpses from the battlefield, find necropolises and other sources of dead bodies to use as lairs, and will trade rare corpses for riddles or information. They have the ability to foresee death coming, and even identify the manner of death, though there’s no mechanical benefit from that which makes it an unusual thing to include in the stat block itself. Their fluff does mention using magic to uncover the answers to riddles and “death magic,” though neither are very strongly represented in their actual spells. Blight is the only necromancy spell they can cast, though cloudkill could probably be considered death magic given how devastating it can be to lower level creatures, and they have no divination spells of any kind that could gather riddles. Some fluff/mechanics dissonance there.

A glance at the gypsosphinxes attacks made me recoil in shock, as the damage output on it is hideous. I half assumed it was an error somewhere, but there’s no errata to fix it. A bite that deals an average of 21 points of damage, two claw attacks for an average of 32 each, plus up to 3 bites from legendary actions adds up to an average damage of 148 per round, well above the 87-92 average for a 14th level monster. Three bite attacks are far, far more potential damage than any single spell the gypsophinx can cast aside from getting a large group with cloudkill, making that a much more effective use of legendary actions if pure killing power is the goal. Dispel magic and a few buff spells such as greater invisibility offer alternative uses of spells if the circumstances call for it, but when comparing potential damage output the gypsosphinx greatly outmatches even the level 17 androsphinx against a standard party of 4. Use with caution.

A long line of rulers have bargained with a gypsophinx for the time and place of their death. The price the sphinx demands has always been high, but successful payment has always yielded accurate results and so the practice continues so that the ruler can better prepare for the end of their life. The latest in line has just completed payment, thousands in gold and gemstones and the corpses of two dragons for the sphinx to feast upon, but the returned answer is that they will die in but a few days time, before successfully returning home. Now the leader’s guards and advisers who accompanied them seek to undo this prophesy even as events conspire to ensure it comes true, including the gypsosphinx itself attacking if all other avenues to their death fail.

The Raven Queen charges a gypsosphinx to act as her gatekeeper over an open rift between the material plane and the Shadowfel. Finding the undead as distasteful as its master, the sphinx refuses to allow any undead or those who consort with them to pass through the portal, instead feasting on them. The living may gain passage either by presenting evidence that they serve the same master, or by answering difficult riddles that connect with life and death.

The death of a god has traumatic effects upon their adherents and servants. Clerics lose their power, angels fall, and the guardians they charged with protecting their sacred places find themselves yet bound and without a guide or any hope of release. An androsphinx that guarded a sacred library hidden in the edge of the world was violently transformed upon the death of their god, becoming a gypsosphinx. The change was terrible, and in their following pain and anger they lashed out and destroyed the people and books they were supposed to protect, until all that was left was the hollow remnants of the building. Still trapped there, suffering punishment for their rash actions, the sphinx feeds on the corpses of those who find the ancient location and wonders how long an eternity of stewardship over an empty building truly can be.

#D&D #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #5th edition #D&D5e #monster #Tome of Beasts #Kobold Press

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cougarforcenty · 6 years

Text

hung the moon...

a/n: some of you may dislike the ending as its a bit of a cliffhanger. i couldn’t make up my mind. may write a second part to this one. feedback is glorious + nourishing fruit.

summary: noah + the new costar who hates him get stuck in a precarious situation. costar’s faceclaim is the beautiful zazie beetz.

word count: 2638

warnings: none

You couldn’t really place it. You didn’t know what it was about him, or the general idea of him, that you found so untoward and irritating. You had enough self-awareness to realize that it may be the complete makings of your own neurosis and natural distrust but you just couldn’t shake it.

Everyone positively loved him. He had the cast and crew practically eating out of his hands. The girls in hair and makeup laughed at all his silly, menial jokes. The director showered him with compliments and tempered direction. Your co-stars would retell stories from the nights you went to bed early about some stupid prank he pulled on someone.

All in all, it seemed like you were the only one not fully on the Noah Centineo train.

But really, that was completely okay with you. You didn’t have the time or energy or mental capacity to be sucked into the false charm of another male co-star.

Been there, done that, didn’t even get a t-shirt.

At this point, you wanted to focus on your craft; wanted to truly harness your emotive propensities. You wanted to give a stellar performance and then get onto the next set, with a completely new group of people and hopefully not be cast alongside the world’s next biggest heartthrob.

You hope that your reticence with him isn’t coming off in your scenes together. You try to play it off as how your character would organically feel in a situation of love triangle proportions. You watch the dailies and can see that slight sheened veneer you put on when your characters are entangled. Whether emotionally or physically, or in the most difficult of spaces when both were required.

You’d skipped out on the suggested bonding practices that predated production and have maybe said 5 words to him directly when not in character. Though he’s tried numerous times to bridge the gap.

You continued to tell yourself it wasn’t unprofessional, you were simply protecting yourself. You wondered if your faux indifference would make for awkward promo after the film’s end but hadn’t thought that far in advance.

You were an actress after all. You knew how to fake it so you weren’t actually that concerned.

But this was the first time on one of your only days off that the director wanted you to meet her at a new location prior to shooting there.

Your reverence for her work made the inconvenience well worth it. Even in the middle of a very chilly fall in New York.

While waiting for the elevator doors to open in a rickety old building, you see Noah approaching.

You hadn’t realized you had both been called for this specific task. You’re instantly annoyed and pull your jacket around yourself snuggly.

He looks just as surprised to see you but doesn’t say anything.

You wait for the elevator in complete silence which seems to be taking literal years to make it down to the first floor, the little illuminating button almost taunting you with its beaming.

Finally, the doors slowly open and you walk in, he follows you a few paces behind.

He casually leans against the opposite side of the elevator and watches you push the button for the 7th floor.

“You know what this is about?” Noah finally says loosely, you can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face.

You shake your head lightly.

“It’s cold today,” he offers.

He’s talking about the weather and you want to die. You want to just vanish into a million little pieces.

You hate talking about the weather. You hate small talk with a passion that rivals little else.

Small talk was a waste of energy and vocal undulations.

You offer no verbal response.

Suddenly, the elevator jolts, sending you toward the button panel and then immediately stills.

Your ears start to ring as you immediately realize what just happened. You can tell Noah is saying something but you can’t make it out.

“No… no, no…” you mutter as you hit the panel. You try the emergency button, nothing. Then you hit any button in a desperate attempt to get the elevator moving again.

You feel your stomach drop when nothing happens.

“Shit,” you kick the bottom of the door which causes a jolt of pain to shoot through your foot.

You remember he’s there when you feel his hands brushing yours away from the panel.

“Don’t do that, you’ll only jam it,” Noah explains, calmly.

You angle away from his touch.

“Don’t touch me,” you mutter. You almost think you said it in your head until you look at him and realize his expression has gone from concerned to confused.

“You’re right,” Noah admits quickly, he takes a step away from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have touched you.”

Pain radiates from you booted foot.

“Fuck, that hurt,” you complain, attempting to put weight on your foot.

“Yeah, well elevator’s are made of steel,” Noah remarks as he takes out his phone. “No service.”

“Ugh,” you mutter as you squeeze your eyes shut against the ever impending reality of your current circumstance. You quickly glance at your phone. “Damnit!”

You repress the urge to throw it against the closed steel doors.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You demand to the unmoving metal.

“Someone will notice the elevator isn’t working,” Noah reasons gently. He’s retreated back to his corner.

“In this damn near deserted building?”

“Right.”

Silence looms as you attempt to slow your racing heart by pulling some deep breaths.

“How are you so calm?” You accuse.

He shrugs. He’s studying you. The way he sometimes did. The way he did when you were on set, or running lines with someone else or at dinner with the entire cast. You’ve caught him quietly contemplating some aspect of you and always immediately acted as if you didn’t see it.

You had a feeling he was always trying to silently figure you out.

But you weren’t budging. You refused to fall for whatever guise he operated under.

“I just don’t feel the need to freak out,” he offers simply. “It’ll start working again.”

You huff and continue to glare at the elevator panel.

Of course the universe would conspire to have you stuck in an elevator with this man. That’s exactly what type of track you were on personally.

Even if your professional life was flourishing, your personal life and emotional safety weren’t necessarily corresponding.

“I can take a look at your foot if you want,” Noah offered loosely.

“Does that line typically work for you?”

“Don’t really have much occasion to use it,” he countered without missing a beat. “Can’t say that I’ve seen many women kick steel elevator doors.”

“You aren’t a doctor,” you exclaim. “You wouldn’t even know what to look for. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

You silently stare at the doors, willing the elevator to start back up again. You really need to get out of there.

“Hey, listen… if I ever did or said something to offend you, I’m really sorry,” he offers evenly.

You still can’t look at him but you feel momentarily bad until you realize that this softness, this unending affable posturing that he seemed to be angling at wasn’t gonna work on you.

You’ve been a sucker before and those days were long gone.

“You didn’t offend me, Noah,” you begin carefully. Your anxiety still looming at the reality of this enclosed space. “I just don’t buy it.”

“I’m sorry, what? What don’t you buy?”

“Your whole schtick. The act,” you respond. “The effortlessly charming ‘nice guy.’ The internet’s boyfriend. Maybe everyone else eats it up, but I see right through it.”

There’s silence on the tail end of your claim. You almost want to look at his expression after your admission but feel it better to keep your attention outward.

Then you hear a small chuckle and you’re instantly infuriated.

“When did you become an expert on ‘schtick’s’?” He questions. “Is it a class you can take?”

“Fuck you-”

He completely bypasses that remark.

“Do you typically so easily pass judgment on people without knowing them or is that a specific distinction I get the privilege of.”

“I don’t need to know you to be able to peep your whole game,” you retort.

You finally do look at him. His arms and legs crossed, leaning against the elevator. The way he’s holding his body reminds you of the easy posture of someone who looks like he’s lying down while upright. Utterly relaxed. His gaze is unflinching.

“There is no game,” Noah corrects. “I’m not the way I am for any type of personal gain.”

You laugh now. You think that maybe mirroring his own reactions will somehow allow you to calm down and make you less unnerved by his own ease. Because all it’s actually doing is making you more irritated.

“No gain? Besides everyone thinking you hung the moon, right? Okay.”

“You’re wrong,” he offers simply.

“That’s doubtful.”

“It’s actually unfortunate that you’ve relied so heavily on this narrative that’s a complete fabrication,” Noah responds. “Because if you hadn’t, then maybe we’d actually be friends or at least civil and you wouldn’t be standing in a stalled elevator seething because of some misguided hatred.”

“Oh my God,” you lament loudly, turning back to the elevator and banging on the door. “Let me out of here!”

“That won’t help.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Sure.”

He goes silent and the silence is almost worse than hearing his incessant gabbing.

You feel a well of emotion come up dissimilar to the anger and terror you’d been trying to mask since the elevator stopped.

“You men are the fucking worst,” you mutter, not even to him directly but you know he hears you.

“What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“Whoever has you out here distrusting complete strangers,” Noah ponders.

“Names, plural. Your kind are real winners,” you remark, taking a deep breath in an attempt to try and subside some of the sadness creeping in.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that. You are also not a complete stranger. You have a very public persona.”

“As do you,” Noah reminds you. “Or one that’s been crafted around your relationship at least, but unlike you, I don’t necessarily believe it.”

You prickle at that. Just the mention of your ex sends you to another realm you can’t really occupy in such close quarters. You feel like the elevator is much too small for all the vitriol you hold for him and your memories.

“I’m not talking to Disney channel’s wonder child about any of this.”

“You’re mean,” he observes lightly. But he doesn’t actually seem offended. Which is weird to you.

Were you trying to break him? Trying to rile him? What were you actually doing besides internally screaming for something?

“But maybe not as much as I originally thought,” Noah continues thoughtfully. “If I’m honest, it sort of hurt my feelings that you were so kind to everyone else. I tried not to take it personally. But more than mean I think you’re hurt.”

“Please do me a favor and don’t ever fix your mouth in an attempt to psychoanalyze me again.”

You look up at the elevators mirrored ceiling and let out a primal scream. Once it’s out, you bend over, bracing yourself with your hands against your knees, just praying that the elevator will start working.

You silently count to 10 with your eyes squeezed shut. When you open them there’s no change.

You feel worse.

“We’re gonna die in here,” you say desperately.

“We will not die in here,” Noah assures you.

“What do you know?”

“It’s a shame our characters don’t hate each other,” Noah offers thoughtfully. “You’d have a head start.”

“You’re not important enough to hate, Noah,” you exclaim bitterly.

“Ouch.”

You feel yourself vacillating between anger, fear, sadness, and panic. All emotions you don’t want anywhere near this man you’ve kept at an arm's length.

“Will you stop looking at me?” You’ve felt his eyes on you intermittently the entire time and the longer that continues, the more unnerved you become.

“Where else am I supposed to look?”

You can tell he’s trying to be playful. Which is maddening and also a bit sweet because you momentarily forget you’re freaking out.

“Anywhere else.”

“I’m looking at you because you’re trembling,” Noah offers gently.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

“Hey, look at me,” Noah requests after a moment. It takes you a full 7 seconds to bring yourself to do as he says.

His gaze is so gentle and innocent, you almost feel like you’ll burst into tears just looking at him.

“I will not hurt you.”

Those words hit you with every ounce of sincerity they are uttered alongside.

You instantly believe him and you’re pissed about it.

He straightens and walks toward you. Which is only about two paces in that elevator. His hand’s tentatively on your shoulder and it’s only then when you physically feel just how much you are shaking.

“Is this okay?”

You nod your head wordlessly. He outstretches his other arm and with the most subtle movements, wraps you into a light hug.

You lean against him instantly, your body finally being cued to relax for the first time since the elevator stalled. Your hands come up and grasp the sides of his jacket, your ear against his chest.

He tightens his arms around you as you sink further into his warmth.

“Your heart is racing,” he mutters.

“Anxiety,” you sigh. “How are you so warm?”

“I don’t know, I just run hot.”

Being in his arms feels so good. You want to believe it’s just his body heat and the lack of your own but it’s something else. Something that pulls at the pit of your stomach and knaws at your conscious.

If someone would have told you, even 12 hours ago, that Noah would be holding you in this moment, you would have laughed in their face.

Maybe you were wrong about him.

That realization makes your heart drop and all the myriad of emotions that well up in you are steeped in regret and embarrassment.

He’s being so sweet to you and you’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass.

You feel your eyes burn with tears as you wrap your arms completely around him beneath his jacket.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you,” you mutter. You attempt to school your tears but they won’t be reasoned with.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you exclaim against his chest, your voice breaking. “I have such a shitty track record with charming men, I just clammed up. I didn’t even get to know you on a basic human level and that’s so embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”

The tears are flowing now and you feel absolutely mortified.

He pulls back briefly just to peer into your face. He wordlessly wipes away your tears and envelops you back into his arms. This only makes you cry harder.

Where did this deep generosity come from? Why was he so willing to freely give it?

“Shhhh,” Noah offers, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

“It’s so fucked up,” you cry into his chest. You don’t know where these tears are even coming from, or why you feel safe enough to unload them with him in this moment.

There’s a lot there that you haven’t even begun to speak of.

He’s back to wiping your tears away and his eyes look like the most delectable mixture of honey and amber and you feel certain you’re in the Twilight zone because all you want to do is kiss him as your eyes flick toward his mouth.

But you wouldn’t dare… it feels like too big a stretch and you aren’t that brave.

#noah centineo #noah centineo imagine #noah centineo fic #tatbilb #to all the boys i've loved before #peter kavinsky #peter kavinsky fic #fanfiction #one shot #sierra burgess is a loser #jamey #the stand-in #swiped

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dfroza · 3 years

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we don’t need to pretend with Love

because Love sees us as we truly are.

Light knows our True nature and desires to transform (renew) the mind with its sacred truth, and that there would be a metamorphosis of heart in the True illumination of the Son.

and sharing the message of grace takes bravery because there is a force in this world that opposes it. but the message cannot be imprisoned, just as Paul reveals in his writing:

“My imprisonment has instilled courage in most of our brothers and sisters, so they are trusting God more and have been even more daring as they speak the good news without fear.”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 1st chapter of the Letter of Philippians:

Paul and Timothy, slaves of Jesus the Anointed One, greet you, our friends in Philippi—those set apart by Jesus the Anointed—and we greet the elders and deacons who serve with you. Grace and peace be with you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus the Anointed.

Whenever you cross my mind, I thank my God for you and for the gift of knowing you. My spirit is lightened with joy whenever I pray for you (and I do constantly) because you have partnered with me to spread the gospel since the first day I preached to you.

I am confident that the Creator, who has begun such a great work among you, will not stop in mid-design but will keep perfecting you until the day Jesus the Anointed, our Liberating King, returns to redeem the world. It is only right that I should feel such admiration for you all—you hold me close to your hearts. And, since we are partners in this great work of grace, you have never failed to stand with me as I have defended and stood firm for the gospel—even from this prison cell. Before God I want you to know how much I long to see you and love you with the affection of the Anointed One, Jesus.

Here’s what I pray for you:

Father, may their love grow more and more in wisdom and insight— so they will be able to examine and determine the best from everything else. And on the day of the Anointed One, the day of His judgment, let them stand pure and blameless, filled with the fruit of righteousness that ripens through Jesus the Anointed.

All this I pray, with a view to God’s ultimate praise and glory.

I have good news, brothers and sisters; and I want to share it. Believe it or not, my imprisonment has actually helped spread the good news to new places and populations. Word has spread through the ranks of the imperial guard and to everyone else around me that I am in prison because of my faith in the Anointed One. My imprisonment has instilled courage in most of our brothers and sisters, so they are trusting God more and have been even more daring as they speak the good news without fear.

I am well aware that some people out there are preaching the message of the Anointed One because of jealousies and rivalries. Their motives aren’t pure. They’re driven by selfish ambitions and personal agendas, hoping somehow to add to my pain here in prison. And I also know there are others who are preaching the Anointed from true goodness, motivated by love. They wish me the best because they know I’m here in prison in defense of the gospel.

So what do we do then? Listen. What matters is that in every way, regardless of the motives—whether pure or shady—the great story of the Anointed is a cause for joy. I will continue to rejoice because I know that through your encouragement and prayers and through the help of the Spirit of Jesus the Anointed, I will soon be released from this dark place. I don’t expect that dishonor and shame will plague me in any way, but I do hope that I will continue to be able to speak freely and courageously about Jesus, and that now and forever the Anointed One will be glorified and placed above all else through this body of mine—whether I live or die. For my life is about the Anointed and Him alone. And my death, when that comes, will mean great gain for me. So, if it’s His will that I go on serving here, my work will be fruitful for the message. I honestly wouldn’t know how or what to choose; I would be hard-pressed to decide. I lean toward leaving this world to be with the Anointed One because I can only think that would be much better. To stay in this body of flesh—even with all its pains and weaknesses—would best serve your needs. Now that I think of it, I am sure of this: I would prefer to remain to share in the progress and joy of your growing belief. When I return to you, we will celebrate Jesus the Anointed even more.

So here is what I want you to do: conduct yourselves as true and worthy citizens of the Anointed’s gospel, so that whether I make it or don’t make it to see you, I will at least hear that you continue to stand, united in one spirit, single-minded in purpose as you struggle together for the faith in the gospel. Don’t be paralyzed in any way by what your opponents are doing. Your steadfast faith in the face of opposition is a sign that they are doomed and that you have been graced with God’s salvation. And now, you have been given the privilege of not only believing in Jesus the Anointed, our Liberating King, but being chosen to suffer for Him as well. You have seen me suffer for Him. Since I’ve been away, you’ve heard of the other agonizing conflicts I’ve had to face. Now you know firsthand the pains of this battle.

The Letter of Philippians, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 11th chapter of the book of Jeremiah that pronounces Judgment for idolatry:

The word of the Eternal came to Jeremiah.

Eternal One: Tell the people of Judah, and specifically those who live in Jerusalem, to hear the terms of our covenant. Tell them this is what the Eternal, the God of Israel, has to say: “Cursed is anyone who ignores the terms of this covenant. All of this was laid out for your ancestors long ago when I first delivered them from slavery, rescued them from the fire of Egypt. I told them, ‘Hear My voice, and do all that I command you. This way you will be My people, and I will be your God.’ I wanted nothing more than to keep My promise and to bless your ancestors with a land flowing with milk and honey—the land of promise on which you stand today.”

Jeremiah: Yes, O Eternal One! Let it be.

Eternal One (to Jeremiah): Now it is time to announce My message in the villages of Judah and on the streets of My city, Jerusalem. I want them to hear this: “Listen to the words of this covenant, and start doing what it says. I sternly warned your ancestors when I rescued them from Egypt, and I’ve repeated that warning many times, even today, saying, ‘Listen to My voice, and do as I say.’ But they didn’t listen, and they didn’t obey Me. Instead, they deliberately chased their own dark desires, ignoring Me at every turn. So I enforced the terms of our covenant, including the curses that came from refusing to do that which I had commanded them.”

The people of Jerusalem and all of Judah conspire against Me. They have gone back to the sins of their ancestors, who long ago ignored My words. They have chased after other gods and worshiped them. Do you not see how both the house of Israel and the house of Judah have violated the covenant I made with their ancestors? This is why I, the Eternal, declare that I will bring disaster upon these rebellious people. And they will not escape what awaits them. They will beg for My help, but I won’t listen to them. Let the citizens of Judah and Jerusalem run to their precious gods for help. Let them burn incense and pray to their detestable images when trouble comes. Those impotent idols will not be able to save them, no matter how many they have to choose from! For you have as many gods as there are towns, people of Judah—as many altars to burn incense to Baal as there are streets in Jerusalem. Don’t pray for these people, Jeremiah. Don’t bother making any pleas for them, for that time has passed. I will not listen when they call out to Me in their time of trouble.

What right does My beloved have coming into My temple, having done such vile things with so many? Do you really think that animal sacrifice is going to make this all go away? Will you then be able to rejoice? The Eternal once proclaimed you a lush olive tree, full of beautiful fruit. But all that has changed. With the roar of a violent storm, He will now strike that tree—leaving it battered, broken, and burned. Now the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, has decreed disaster against you, the same tree He planted—all because of the evil done by the people of Israel and Judah, all because they provoked Me by worshiping and sacrificing to Baal.

Jeremiah: The Eternal revealed to me the plans of my enemies.

Then You showed me what they wanted to do.

I was like an unsuspecting lamb led to its slaughter.

I had no idea they were plotting against me. They were saying,

“Let’s cut down that lush olive tree and destroy all its beautiful fruit.

Let’s cut him off from the land of the living.

Let’s make sure no one even remembers his name.”

But You, Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, You who judge fairly,

You know the heart and the mind.

Let me see Your vengeance exacted against them;

I am entrusting my cause, my future to You.

This is what the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, has to say regarding your men back in Anathoth who are threatening your life and saying, “You will die by our hands if you do not stop prophesying in the name of the Eternal.”

Eternal One: Look, I will soon punish them! The young men will die in battle; their sons and daughters will starve during a famine. In the end, no one from Anathoth who schemes against you will remain, for I will bring disaster upon these schemers when the year of their reckoning arrives.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 11 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, August 24 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about turning the heart to our Creator:

Heaven and earth touch in innumerable ways. Every day we are given opportunity to turn to God and find life. The sages have said that the sun is red in the morning because it passes by the roses of the garden of Eden, and at sunset because it passes by the gate of Hell (Bava Batra 84a). The tender mercies of the Lord are renewed every morning, and for that reason we should turn to God when we first open our eyes to the light of the new day and say: "Modeh ani lefanekha, Adonai" (מודה אני לפניך יהוה), "thank you, O Lord, for another opportunity to reach out to you for life." [Hebrew for Christians]

8.20.21 • Facebook

and another about responding:

The sages affirm, "This world is like a corridor before the World to Come; prepare yourself in the corridor, that you may enter into the hall" (Avot 4:21), which implies that the great commandment is always "seek Me and live" (Amos 5:4). "Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near" (Isa. 55:6). “Where can God be found?” asks the Kotzker rebbe, “but where one lets Him in...” God sometimes “hides” from us so that we are given the opportunity to seek Him with all our hearts.

God’s Spirit is always calling for us to return to Him, to “seek God and live...” What is holding your heart back? In Hebrew the word teshuvah (תְּשׁוּבָה) means an "answer" to a shelah (שְׁאֵלָה), or a question. It is a response to the call of God... The One who ransomed us from death and offers us life in abundance stands at the door knocking, waiting for us to respond to His call (Rev. 3:20). During this Season of Teshuvah, may we hear the Voice of Him who invites the brokenhearted to join him: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28). ב��וך אתה יהוה המנחם - "Blessed are you LORD the Comforter." [Hebrew for Christians]

8.24.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

August 24, 2021

Our Rock of Salvation

“He is the Rock, his work is perfect: for all his ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is he.” (Deuteronomy 32:4)

Here in the song of Moses, which God instructed him to write for the children of Israel as they were about to enter the Promised Land (note Deuteronomy 31:19), is the first of at least 40 references in the Bible to God as the Rock. There are four others just in this song. In verse 15, He is the “Rock of [Israel’s] salvation.” In verse 18, He is “the Rock that begat thee.” See also verses 30 and 31.

Note some of the other wonderful metaphors picturing God as our great foundation stone. He is “my strong rock” in Psalm 31:2 and “the rock that is higher than I” in Psalm 61:2. In Psalm 62:7, He is “the rock of my strength” and “the rock of my refuge” in Psalm 94:22. Isaiah calls Him “a great rock in a weary land” and “the rock whence ye are hewn” (Isaiah 32:2; 51:1).

During the wilderness wanderings, the Israelites were supplied continually with water from the rock, and the apostle Paul tells us “that spiritual Rock that followed them...was Christ” (1 Corinthians 10:4). And, of course, Christ told His disciples that Peter’s confession of Himself as the “Son of the living God” was the Rock upon which He would build His church (Matthew 16:16, 18).

But to unbelievers He is “the stone which the builders rejected” (Matthew 21:42), “a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offence, even to them which stumble at the word” (1 Peter 2:8). “Therefore,” said Jesus, “whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock” (Matthew 7:24-25). HMM

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wineanddinosaur · 3 years

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VinePair Podcast: Wine Experts Are Ignoring Full-Bodied Reds — and Shouldn’t B‪e

There’s a bit of a disconnect these days when it comes to red wine in America. Consumers still seem to be deeply interested in and passionate about full-bodied red wines — be they blends, Cabernet Sauvignon, or other varieties. Yet it often seems that wine experts and professionals would rather talk about any other style of red wine.

Why is it that sommeliers, writers, and retailers seem more interested in lighter, higher-acid styles of red wine than the majority of consumers? Why have so many red wine drinkers been alienated by the very group that’s hoping to court their patronage? That’s what Adam Teeter and Zach Geballe discuss on this week’s episode of the “VinePair Podcast.”

Listen Online

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Or Check out the Conversation Here

Adam Teeter: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter.

Zach Geballe: And in Seattle, Wash., I’m Zach Geballe.

A: And this is the “VinePair Podcast.” Before we jump into today’s topic on Big Red, as I’m going to call it, there was a pretty big holiday for both of us recently. It’s a pretty big alcohol holiday. Not like getting wasted, but wine has a big component to it. I’m curious, what have you been drinking, Zach?

Z: Well, it wasn’t necessarily in preparation for today’s episode, but in thinking about it, it was appropriate for Passover. I had a couple of full-bodied red wines, a Cabernet Sauvignon from here in Washington, from Abeja, which is a winery in Walla Walla. Adam, as you might recall, we had Dan Wampler when we did a live episode, also with Kyle McLaughlin for the Great American Drinks episode I believe we did last year. Dan is Kyle’s winemaker but also is a winemaker at Abeja. It was a very enjoyable bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Part of the reason why I picked it is because, as you know, the seder involves a lot of drinking before you have any food. It made sense to me to pick a wine that I knew I was going to enjoy both before eating and then also with the meal, which is where a lot of these wines perform really, really well. I also had a wine from another Walla Walla Winery, L’Ecole No. 41, Perigee, which is a Bordeaux-style blend, so Cabernet and Merlot-based blend. Both were delicious and helped me think about this topic a little bit more. How about you?

A: First of all, you made me think about something that I want to address, which is before I tell you what I drank this week, which is what I drank two weeks ago, because it was so sad. Two weeks ago, you and I were going back and forth for the podcast. I was thinking about what I was making for dinner Friday because in Covid on Friday and Saturday nights, we try to make it a little more special. If I’m cooking at home, we open a nice bottle of wine. I was going to open the Baby Bear from Pursued By Bear that Dan made. I popped it and it was the most corked wine I’ve ever smelled, and I was so bummed. So bummed.

Z: Kyle and Dan, if you’re listening and you want to send Adam a new bottle… I’m so glad that didn’t happen during the live recording. That would have been instructive, but boy, it would have sucked. Have you had that happen dining out somewhere where you had a corked bottle?

A: Oh, yeah. I’ve had it happen sometimes when the server doesn’t believe me, which is really lovely, really lovely. That actually happened at a restaurant in Covid dining outside and I felt bad and said it was corked. The server said “this isn’t corked, you just don’t know what old wine tastes like.” That’s what they said to me and I said, “No, this is corked.” I happen to be with a friend who’s a journalist but not a wine journalist. He writes at The Times and he’s a big wine person, too. He even said it was corked. This isn’t because the wine was old. We happened to find a random gem on their list. It was an old Italian bottle that was $65 a bottle and it was a 2005.

Z: It’s old, but it’s not like you opened a 1957 bottle and the server could realistically say that “you probably haven’t had a lot of wine of this age.” But 15-year-old Italian wine is not that old.

A: Then, the server came back. Now we’re on a crazy tangent and says, “I’m going to decant it, because it’s definitely not corked.” Then I said, is the beverage director here or the person who buys wine? They say, “The person who buys the wine is one of the owners and he’s not here tonight.” Then I said OK, fine, decant it. And we were like, yeah, it’s still corked. Can you please open another bottle? They say “we’ll see if we have any left.” Of course, they did and it was totally different. I literally said to the server, I’m not trying to be a d*ck, but can you smell both? Do you see the difference? The server literally said to me, “I don’t see the difference, I don’t smell the difference.” Anyways, that was really a huge bummer. Passover for me, I had two really cool wine experiences. The first night, I don’t think people know this, but we have an article that’s about to come out about it. Mayacamas is probably one of the most revered wineries in Napa, and they make incredible Cabernet. We named their Cabernet the No. 1 wine on VinePair’s Top 50 a few years ago. I don’t think the people know that the winery is now owned by Orthodox Jews.

Z: I didn’t know this.

A: They keep kosher, so they can’t drink Mayacamas. Mayacamas is making a version that’s kosher. They mentioned it to me and I said I don’t keep kosher. Well, we’re not even from that Jewish family where the wine has to be kosher at Passover. I have tons of friends that say they got to bring kosher wine. They asked, do you want to try them? They sent them to Katie on our team, who’s writing the article because we just thought it was so crazy and cool. They sent them to me, and the way the wine is kosher is that they keep it separate. They follow all the kosher guidelines. I’m not going to go into them here, but it’s basically the exact same Cabernet Sauvignon. It was really awesome to be drinking these two kosher Mayacamas Cabernets for Passover, which is nuts. I posted on Instagram, and I had so many people commenting, like, what is this?

Z: Yes, I had the same response when I saw it, although I don’t think I messaged you about it because I had no idea.

A: Of course, we drank those two bottles, and I should have known better. Now, I’m responsible for bringing the wine to a family function and I brought more white than red. I think that’s what I was in the mood for. And again, both of the Mayacamas came out on the first night and were finished. I also brought a Syrah that came out on the first night and was finished. All my beautiful whites that were sitting in the refrigerator did not get drunk. Now, I was thinking I had to go to the Pennsylvania state store. I walk into the state store and I’m looking around. I will say I feel people’s pain that all of you have is a state store, right? It’s very much the biggest brand you can find on the shelves, and you really have to dig. Anyways, I went with my brother-in-law, and we went to the Italian section, which was pretty small. I went to one of the smaller state stores that were closest to the house and sitting on the shelf was three bottles of 2013 Pio Cesare Dolcetto for $19 a bottle. We bought them, and they were amazing. It was really cool to be drinking eight-year-old wine at Passover and showing people that this wine is wine that could age. I think a lot of people don’t think Dolcetto can age, but this one was really, really beautiful still. It was cool, fun, and a neat find. I said to Noami, “Maybe next time we come, I need to go to Pennsylvania state stores and just do some digging, because there are some finds on the shelf for the price we bought for.”

Z: The one risk is you got to find the part of the store that hasn’t been sitting in direct sunlight, because the bottles have not moved since they were put on the shelf.

A: Before we kick off the topic, I did want to mention that I saw two weeks ago, you posted it and it was also in the news, the Dahlia Lounge, which was the restaurant that you’ve worked at for 13 years, is not going to reopen post-Covid. First of all, I wanted to just offer my condolences, because so many people are going through this, and it absolutely sucks. You started as a sommelier there. You were the head beverage educator. I think a lot of people who listen to this show are going through this, too, because while a lot of restaurants are reopening, a lot of them aren’t. I was wondering if you had any thoughts that you wanted to share about what that has been like for you going through all of this and what your memories are of the Dahlia, as well?

Z: Yeah, I appreciate that, Adam. The specifics of the Dahlia Lounge not reopening are what they are and have a lot to do with a lot of forces that you and I have talked about on the podcast. We’ll continue to talk about it, how the restaurant industry in various cities is changing and having to adapt not just to life with a pandemic, but life after a pandemic. A lot of those forces, I think, conspired against Dahlia Lounge and against a lot of other restaurants of its ilk. I would say personally, and I know this is true for you, Adam, also listeners, if you have stories like these, restaurants that you worked at or dined out that announced they’re not reopening and you want to share them with us, I would love to read a little bit about that. Email us [email protected] and just drop us a line. We’ll even share some of them on the podcast. For me, the Dahlia Lounge is a restaurant I worked at for, as you said, 13 years. I started working there when I was 23 years old and went through a lot of different life events, changes. My wife and I had our rehearsal dinner there. There were lots of memories, and more that I could reasonably fit into a little moment here. The two things I was going to say in light of that are, one, I think it’s important for all of us to remember that anyone who is a diner at a restaurant — whether you’re a regular in the once-a-month sense or once-a-year sense — restaurants provide a really unique facet in society. For many of us, it is integral to celebrating important moments, whether they’re birthdays, anniversaries, or just big life moments. One of the saddest things for me about all this is thinking of our many regulars who did count on a meal at the Dahlia Lounge for a way to celebrate a big moment in their life for a birthday, anniversary, graduation, etc. Many of them will not experience that going forward. It’s also important for us to think about, and for all the listeners, whether you work in the industry or are just a restaurant-goer, we’re at this inflection point that we’ll be at one for the next year or two. The face of dining in America can change fundamentally. There are going to be fewer and fewer restaurants that offer full-service dining, I think. It’s just expensive and difficult. There’s also been a tremendous talent drain over the last year in the industry, and a lot of people who were laid off, like I was, are not going to go back. They found other work. They’re going to do other things. They’re not interested in the lack of security that it turns out that industry provides, so there are going to be real challenges. We all make decisions. We all vote with our dollars and make purchase decisions that way. I encourage those of you listening to think about the places that are reopening, that matter to you, and think about trying to support them just by being a guest. No one is asking for donations at this point, I don’t think. The places that you want to have in your life, the restaurants that you want to have opened, the places you want for those special occasions, make an effort to go to them more than just for a special occasion every once in a while, because the restaurants are fragile. I felt that very acutely over last year, but especially when the not surprising news came out. It was a sad day for me and for all of the Dahlia Lounge team. As Adam said, for many people across the country who have had a similar type of restaurant or restaurant they worked at not reopen, it’s a tragedy in a way. We’ll remember them. At least I certainly will.

A: Yeah, man, it’s not easy. You made me think about something as you were talking. You mentioned something that maybe is even another episode, or it becomes this episode. I think what we’ve all realized over the last year, or maybe we haven’t realized, those of us who covered and worked, is how much restaurants truly depend on regulars. The question now becomes how much our culture had pushed against that. In the last decade — VinePair doesn’t really write a ton about “this is the hottest place to go to right now” — but there are a lot of publications that say this, that rate restaurants and give them points and say this is the hottest thing you need to eat out right now. That did create a culture. Then the user experience, platforms, did the same thing in creating a culture that said, man, I need to be the person that goes to the buzziest at all times. I think there was already a lot of noise in the restaurant industry amongst owners about how damaging this type of stuff was for them and how they were already watching that. You had to reinvent yourself every two years because consumers were reading these types of publications. Then they were moving on really quickly or they were on social looking at people posting food-porn photos and moving on really quickly. That really hurt a lot of restaurants that people actually remembered then afterward how much they loved in the pandemic. They would say “Oh, you mean that place isn’t going to come back?” It wasn’t just because of the pandemic that these places were closed but because that behavior was encouraged by a lot of publications and rating review sites. It was already hurting them. They were already on their last legs, whether they were putting on a good show or putting on that bright, smiling face to try to get the consumers to come back. Without a huge amount of regulars, it just wasn’t possible. The neighborhood restaurant was dying. I hope that post-pandemic, we let the neighborhood restaurant come back. We’re not just thinking about the buzziest. I got to go to the see-and-be-seen place every single day. I know that you may not be able to prevent that in Manhattan. I’m hoping in Brooklyn that stops. The restaurant I love in my neighborhood and counted on even during the pandemic will stay. My neighborhood will continue to support those restaurants and we won’t see some of my favorites reinvent themselves in a year or two because they just haven’t had press and their crowds aren’t the same. I really hope that’s the case. Look, the same did happen at bars, to some extent. Bars have a stronghold in New York like Death and Co. are still going strong. It’s still a place people really want to get into. Same with PTD, things like that. It just wasn’t the same as restaurants. I think that’s because the drinks publications like ourselves and others just don’t do that as much in terms of coverage like what’s the buzziest? I do think that’s been a contributing factor. You mentioned regulars are really important for people to think about. You have to think about the places you want to support and then support them. When you’re vaccinated and feel comfortable going back out to eat, if you haven’t already, go to the places you love if they’re still open or they’re reopening because they’re going to need support. If not, they’re not going to be there.

Z: One last point on this before we move on is I’ve had the opportunity to deal with the interaction between regulars and a restaurant on both ends. I obviously served many, many regulars in my life, but also been a regular at some other restaurants. I’ll just say this. You’ll never have a relationship with a restaurant as meaningful as being a regular at a restaurant. There is nothing, I think, in the dining world as rewarding. You can throw me your three-star Michelin restaurants and your incredibly trendy spots. Those can be really fun and exciting, and I certainly enjoy those dining experiences, too. However, the feeling of walking into a place, being known, feeling comfortable, knowing the staff a little bit, those are meant to be places where people feel welcomed, comfortable, and almost at home. But then also, you don’t have to deal with all the bullshit you have to deal with at home. If you don’t ever build that relationship, if you treat restaurants like trading cards or a collectible, I don’t see how that can be as satisfying. I don’t think even the people who do that are truly satisfied by it because, in the end, would you remember that place a year later? I don’t think you do.

A: Yeah, I completely agree. It is really amazing what it’s like to be a regular. I think people get away from it when you want to say you have been to all the places everyone else is talking about. You walk in and you wonder why that treatment always feels the same is because they don’t know you. Whereas there is someone who probably is a regular at that buzzy place that you randomly scored a reservation for that always seems to get the reservation. Yes, it is because they are a regular, and there are notes in their reservation in the system that give them a better table and the better service. It is because they come and support. That’s what the restaurant needs. Anyways, we are already pretty deep into our episode. Let’s talk a little bit about this conversation around the disconnect that we’ve seen in terms of consumer preference for fuller-bodied red wines and the trade preference for lighter-bodied, high-acid wine. Zach, you were the one that initially brought this to my attention, so why don’t you kick us off, and then we can go from there?

Z: Sure. There’s always been a little bit of attention, or at least in the time that I’ve been in the restaurant and beverage alcohol industry, a tension between what the people who run wine programs and to some extent the people in the wine press are interested in, and what consumers want. It was a thing for me running wine programs that inevitably made my biggest selling category was Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet-based wines. No matter my own personal preferences, I would be derelict in my duty as a wine director to not put a lot of time and energy into a particular amount of space or category. Then, claiming to people who come in and say, “I like a big red wine, I like Cabernet Sauvignon.” “Well, actually you would prefer this other thing.” We’re trying to move the consumer too much. That is both an egocentric move on the part of most wine directors or restaurants, and frankly, I think, bad business. I think there’s something to be said about building a list that offers people opportunities to try new things, to diversify, but also gives lots of people safe landing spots and gives people wine they’re familiar with. In the end, the hospitality industry is exactly that, hospitality. Part of hospitality is telling someone the thing they love, you have. There are always going to be limits, you’re not going to be able to stock every wine. You’re going to have to make decisions, no matter the size of your program, about excluding some things. To build a wine program that does not meet the consumer most of the way is interested in something for reasons that I find off-putting and again, ego-driven, as opposed to being about serving the guests. To me, you see this a lot in the seemingly endless attempts to convince the wine-drinking public that they don’t want the wines they love, big, full-bodied red wines, the No. 1-selling category in America — that they actually want obscure European variety acts, high-acid, tart red fruit, pale red color. “Actually, this is the wine you want,” and it’s like, no, it’s not. Part of it is Americans have a culture of drinking wine without food. I’m not going to argue the pushback of “these big red wines don’t pair well with food,” to which I would say after, as mentioned, 15 years of experience., who the fuck cares? Your consumer mostly doesn’t care. They’re used to drinking big red wines, and they’re used to eating whatever they eat with it. Again, if the conception of your job, the role is so tied up in convincing this person who has these things they love that they will give you money for, that they are wrong and you will show them the light, I think you’re doing it for the wrong reason.

A: Yeah, I agree. I want to get into why you think it is because we definitely have theories, but look, my personal preference is high-on-acid reds, but that’s because I’ve drunk a lot of wine throughout my career and that’s what I’m into right now. I definitely have an appreciation for the full-bodied reds, and I understand why people like them. I don’t think anyone is wrong for liking them or less of an educated consumer. I do think it’s really interesting to assume that these wines have a problem. I think the biggest thing that has been eye-opening for me is, when I hear people say to me who are in the industry, “Napa is going to have a huge issue. The young people aren’t going to go to Napa. They’re just not going to drink Napa wines.” I would say, “Who are you talking to?” When I go to wine festivals in Atlanta and L.A., and I’m talking to consumers that come up to me, they tell me the region that’s on their bucket list to visit with their friends or significant other is Napa. Then, when I ask them what wines they drink, they say wines like Caymus. Some of them say Ashes & Diamonds, but the majority of them say these big Napa Cabs. I don’t know why we are as an industry saying that that’s bad. We don’t have to make everybody drink Beaujolais. I really enjoy Beaujolais, but not everyone has to drink Beaujolais. If they don’t like it, you don’t need to make them feel bad for it, and you don’t need to feel bad that you like it. Do you know what I mean? I believe everyone just needs to get over themselves in terms of no one is trying to offend somebody else by somebody not liking something. When the majority of the data points to one style of wine that people like, we don’t have to say, “Well, they must not know what they’re doing.”

Z: Yes, that’s the problem in my mind. The thing that I don’t like is when someone tells you, “Oh, I like your Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley,” there is a fundamental issue and a reflex on the part of a lot of people in the wine industry to be like, “Well, let me explain to you why you’re wrong. You just haven’t tried the right alternative wines.” In some small percentage of cases, that might be true. There might be some people where wine is something they don’t think a lot about. They drink wine on occasion. They drink wine when they’re out to dinner with friends or family, maybe for special occasions. It’s not an everyday thing. You and I, and sommeliers and winemakers, we live and breathe this stuff. This is our everyday. Of course we’re well apprised of all the many options and we try lots of wines and that’s fine. For most people, wine is something they don’t have all that often. If they do, they may not think about it a lot. They might belong to a wine club because they had a great experience somewhere. They might buy wine at the grocery store. They’re beholden to this selection that’s put in front of them and they like those wines. It’s the height of arrogance to me to tell someone who says “I like this” to then actually say “No, you don’t, you’re wrong.” You can try and explain to someone in a setting, maybe if you’re graceful and gentle about it, why they might also like something else. That’s how I always try to frame it with people who were like, “Oh, here’s what we like.” If I didn’t have that or I had something else that I thought would be a better fit, I would say, “Wonderful, here’s something else you might like.” You shouldn’t say here’s why the thing you like is wrong. You’re going to suddenly change your purchase preferences based on some random asshole telling you otherwise or some article or TikTok video.

A: I’m saying that it’s just going to turn people off. We’ve used this analogy before. For those that remember this amazing movie, it reminds me of Jack Black’s character in “High Fidelity,” where it’s the music snob basically being like, “Wait, you like this mainstream band? You don’t like music.” No, you still like music. There are so many different genres of music and varieties of music. People who work in music all day don’t want to listen to pop all the time because there is a formula to pop. There are things about pop music that if you spend enough time working in music, you would say oh, wow, this is a derivative of this or this. Then, you want to listen to something different, even though when you go into the indie-rock spectrum, they all are copying each other in some way. But whatever. Let’s pretend that they’re original. I think you and I have gotten called out before for being anti-natural wine. I’m not anti-natural wine. I’m anti-the movement. I have a problem with the movement that’s telling people if they don’t like it, they don’t get it. That’s what I’m anti about. My issue here is, and I’ll give just a quick example: Someone on our staff posted an image of a pretty mainstream wine and how great it was for people who they knew drink that wine. That wine is available in a large number of retailers. They got a lot of hate comments back, and I got comments too. How dare you post that wine, no one should be drinking that wine. For the category, this is a great wine. If you’re unable to see that, that’s fine, but you need to get out of your own feelings. Because you’re inside your feelings right now, and that’s not what we’re here for. We’re here to tell the consumers who do like that wine, that this is great and they should feel good about liking that wine. We’re not here to make people feel bad for that. I’m not going to sit here and say that you should be drinking Chateau Diana from the CVS and comparing it to actual wine. By the way, that is a wine product. It’s a wine product, but if you like anything else, that’s good. As we talked about before, it gets people into wine. It’s just so infuriating.

Z: I think there are two other pieces to this. I think the rock or the indie music comparison is a great one. I think there’s a cynical motive to it in a lot of cases, where telling someone about why they should drink Napa Cab or big reds, you can’t make a name for yourself, right? You can’t create a business around it. Those wineries are already well represented. The wines are distributed by established companies. They have established relationships and reputations. If you’re someone who is an ambitious person in wine, it makes a lot more sense to become an advocate for an obscure European region or grape, or a style that’s not as in vogue, because you can make a name for yourself. I think whether they’re conscious of that or not, I think that’s what causes a lot of people to gravitate towards it. Again, you can be the face of a trend as opposed to the person who’s just selling the wine that people actually like. You and I taste a lot of wine professionally, it’s just our job, right? We do a lot of things. We get samples, we go to tastings. When you’re in that setting, I won’t deny that the fresher, higher-acid styles of red wine are often a little more enjoyable.

A: They stand out more.

Z: When you drink a lot of full-bodied red wine, especially one that might be a little higher in alcohol, pretty quickly you get fatigued. Again, who gives a shit unless you are a professional and no one cares about what your personal drinking habits are, really? If you’re a consumer, you’re someone who just likes to drink wine. You don’t give a shit if after tasting 30 of them, you can’t tell the difference, because no one is ever going to do that. They’re going to drink a single bottle at a time. Again, this inability of people, whether they are sommeliers, wine directors, retail operators, or writers in some cases, to get out of their own head and get out of their own world experience and think, “OK, is there anyone I’m communicating to? Is my guest going to view wine this way? Are my readers or listeners going to view wine this way?” For so many of them, I think the answer is of course not, because they’re drinking a bottle every third night. They’re not tasting 50 wines a day. It’s such a stupid and self-centered, shortsighted way of looking at this product that you work with that drives me crazy.

A: Yeah, it drives me bonkers. I think the other thing, too, and it’s going to take decades for if ever, the regions that you are pushing to be considered regions worthy of buying during a special occasion. If someone came to the Dahlia Lounge, and they were celebrating a momentous anniversary or a big promotion, were you going to be more easily able to sell them a Napa Cab? Or were you going to be able to somehow convince them that they should try red wine that’s from this region of France that’s maybe a little like Napa Cab, but is more your style of higher acid, more fruit, less oak. Probably not.

Z: One other point, presumably the Napa Cab is going to sell for a lot more than your obscure southwestern France Madiran. One, it’s just bad business. I think Napa is a great illustration of this in a way. Champagne is, also. For a lot of consumers, part of what they’re buying when they order a bottle of wine from Napa Valley is the sense of luxury and prestige that goes along with it. Again, if you’re not honest with yourself, at least about that as a buyer or as a sommelier, you’re just deluding yourself. It matters to people. The fact that they’ve heard of Napa Valley, they may have been there, they can spell it and pronounce it is always going to resonate with most consumers. Yes, there is a subset of consumers who get off on novelty and having the ability to say, “I tried something new today.” That’s great, and recognizing those people and meeting them where they are is also really important. Having all this, that’s just a Napa Cab is also bad. That’s not a good wine program, either. But one that takes the bulk of wine drinkers and treats them as idiot children who must be shown the error of their ways, they must be clued to the wine that they truly will love, because they can’t possibly love the well-established wine that you, the wine writer, are so sick of. It’s just ego at this point. Again, it is the self-centeredness that I find so appalling. It’s one thing if you’re a winemaker and you want to tell people about the wines that you make. If it’s a thing you make, fine. As a sommelier, as a writer, you are not in any way involved in the production of that product, and inflating your own ego around something that literally you did nothing to other than maybe take a corkscrew to. Again, it’s masturbation. I find that to be really unpleasant in a public setting.

A: Can I share one huge pet peeve with you? My biggest pet peeve is when you go to a wine shop or to a restaurant and they have a classic region on the list, and not a single bottle from that classic region is indicative of what made that region classic. That just pisses me off, because if I’m having dinner with someone who’s never had Northern Rhône Syrah from Saint-Joseph. If all you have is super-natty versions, I can’t do that. I want to show someone what makes that region so amazing for Syrah. It kills me, dude. When that does happen, it’s just so frustrating, because I get it, you want to have a few of those bottles because you want to be different. If you want to be a little quirky and you want to show that there is diversity in that region, awesome, I think you totally should have. But to not have one or two that is representative? That’s when it really, really bothers me.

Z: To come back almost to the point where we started, and this is something that I worked on because it changed my own mindset as I evolved and matured as a buyer. It’s also important to have some recognizable names. Whatever the category is, especially if it’s a good chunk of your list. If it’s Napa Cab, you should have some established producers on there as well. It’s good to have benchmark producers or classic producers that people are going to recognize. You want to have both, ideally. Certainly, if you’re only going to have a couple, they should be largely classic representations, because someone who looks at a list that has wine from all over the world and you have five red wines from Bordeaux, if four of them are unoaked, with short maceration times, then you’re doing a bad job. If you’re at a restaurant with an immense French list, and you want to have 40 Bordeaux offerings and some of them are for the people who like that kind of wine or want to try Bordeaux, great. Again, whatever you are, whether you’re a retail shop owner, a restauranteur, a wine director, writer, or a member of the press, putting your own ego and your own self ahead of the people you’re ostensibly serving or writing for is just bad. It’s not doing a good job.

A: Well, I think this comes to the moral of the story, which is that wine is the only industry that I’ve ever been a part of — and I haven’t been a part of a lot. Wine is the only community that doesn’t want to look at the f*cking data. It’s like data is bad. I don’t understand because the data would refute everything that people’s influencers in wine are saying. That’s not to say you still shouldn’t also tell people to drink the things that you’re interested in. But to push those like they’re the only options is crazy to me. There is a reason when you walk into most breweries in America right now, everyone has a fucking hazy IPA on their list, because the data shows this is what sells. There is a reason that the majority of pop music sounds the same right now, because when people look at the billboard charts, they are very aware of what the majority of the country wants to listen to. When people look in spirits, it’s the same. They are always looking at what’s trending up? What’s trending down? There’s a reason everyone’s moving into tequila. Why are all the celebrities moving in tequila? It is not because they all live in L.A. and they’re really interested in agave. It’s because when you look at the data, tequila is the fastest-rising spirit in America right now. It is very quickly catching bourbon, right? It’s very quickly catching whiskey. It’s catching vodka. That is why. With wines, we don’t want to look at that. People don’t care. Then they complain about the big companies who continue to grow. Why? It’s because they look at data.

Z: I think that there’s a space — especially on the production side — for winemakers to say, “This is what I want to make.”

A: One hundred percent, you should.

Z: And I think that winemakers recognize it, in a fundamental way, because if you choose to make an unusual variety of wine in a different style, you know that you’re capping your market for it. That’s fine if you’re making a few hundred cases. But as a restaurant, a retail shop, even potentially a wine bar, if you have a very specific vibe, that’s why people will seek you out, who want that kind of thing. Your guests are going to come with all levels of experience and preferences, but the one thing that most of them are going to have in common is that their favorite wine style is a red blend or Cabernet Sauvignon. If you can’t meet that need, you’re doing a bad job.

A: I agree. Again, I love the producers that do whatever they want. I like going to the small indie brewers who are making styles that aren’t just New England IPA. I also do appreciate a New England IPA. I’m a haze boy every once in a while, as Cat likes to tease me, and I like all kinds of wine. Since I’m in the industry and I’m looking for interesting stories and stuff, am I mostly gravitating towards those producers that are going against the grain in the region’s stuff? Of course I am. It’s just so stupid to put your head in the sand and try to pretend the large trends of the industry don’t exist or make those people who have those flavor preferences feel like they’re stupid or they don’t know what they’re doing and they’re wrong or behind the times. Because that’s just not cool. That doesn’t help anybody when it comes to drinking. That doesn’t help the overall industry of wine, and it doesn’t help your bottom line.

Z: All true.

A: Well, this was a great episode. I loved you sharing your thoughts about Dahlia Lounge. It was really powerful. Again, I want to reiterate to anyone who’s listening to the podcast, if you have worked somewhere that has gone out of business during Covid or is going to go out of business and would like to share your stories, please email us at [email protected]. We’d love to hear them. This could possibly wind up in a larger article. It could wind up as a podcast episode. This has been more than a year that’s been very hard for everybody, and it’d be great to hear some peoples’ experiences.

Z: For sure, we would love to hear them.

A: Zach, talk to you next week.

Z: Sounds great.

Thanks so much for listening to the “VinePair Podcast.” If you love this show as much as we love making it, then please leave a rating or review on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever it is you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show.

Now for the credits. VinePair is produced and recorded in New York City and in Seattle, Wash., by myself and Zach Geballe, who does all the editing and loves to get the credit. Also, I would love to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder, Josh Malin, for helping make all this possible, and also to Keith Beavers, VinePair’s tasting director, who is additionally a producer on the show. I also want to, of course, thank every other member of the VinePair team who is instrumental in all of the ideas that go into making the show every week. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again.

The article VinePair Podcast: Wine Experts Are Ignoring Full-Bodied Reds — and Shouldn’t B‪e appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/full-bodied-reds-podcast/

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johnboothus · 3 years

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VinePair Podcast: Wine Experts Are Ignoring Full-Bodied Reds and Shouldnt Be

Listen Online

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Or Check out the Conversation Here

Adam Teeter: From Brooklyn, New York, I’m Adam Teeter.

Zach Geballe: And in Seattle, Wash., I’m Zach Geballe.

Z: I didn’t know this.

Z: Yes, I had the same response when I saw it, although I don’t think I messaged you about it because I had no idea.

Z: The one risk is you got to find the part of the store that hasn’t been sitting in direct sunlight, because the bottles have not moved since they were put on the shelf.

A: They stand out more.

Z: I think that there’s a space — especially on the production side — for winemakers to say, “This is what I want to make.”

A: One hundred percent, you should.

Z: All true.

Z: For sure, we would love to hear them.

A: Zach, talk to you next week.

Z: Sounds great.

The article VinePair Podcast: Wine Experts Are Ignoring Full-Bodied Reds — and Shouldn’t B‪e appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/full-bodied-reds-podcast/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/vinepair-podcast-wine-experts-are-ignoring-full-bodied-reds-and-shouldnt-be

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thorndale-industries · 7 years

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Ariadne and Theseus - Chapter 2

Woho, Chapter 2 for my HR fic is finally done.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am certain I don't have to remind you all to stay focussed on this urgent matter. This society is growing more fragile by the day, as they desperately try to reach the sky with their artificial wings - a place they were never meant to touch or see, and we are the guardians who imperceptibly raise the temperature of the sun. We will make their wings melt to assure that they stay where they are and forget that the illuminating presence exists at all. And, to my great dismay, we once again reach the point where this step becomes more necessary the more time passes. The moment rapidly approaches where the blind sheep start to disobey and to think they can break free from their faithful shepherd - they outrageously believe they are better off their own while they don't see the cliff they are heading towards. And in such times we need to stay stronger as ever and guide them back to the right path."

The distinctive voice of the Primus Illuminatus clanged through the speakers as he would stand right next to the woman at her desk and an unnerving sensation covered her lean body - as if someone had opened up a window to let a cold breeze in. A dominant and reigning voice filled every single room it appeared in, and drew everyone's attention to the Patrician monarch sitting on his golden throne. His voice was never loud or aggressive, on the contrary: A sinister tranquillity enveloped the elderly patriarch like an impervious haze, concealing his true emotions and thoughts. He was the true enlightened, and menial characteristics were something that did not exist in his world - he had to be above them in order to have a clear vision, untainted with blemishes which plagued mankind. But this time there was a subtle undertone of frustration in his carefully chosen words, as some of his loyal generals dared to waste his precious time with taunting each other instead of placing their figures on the map. But truth is, that the old leader hadn't left his icy fortress for quite a while, hidden in the ancient glaciers of Switzerland - and some might say this was the final sign he was slowly perishing ad his fountain of youth was drying-out.. Like bloodthirsty wolves some of the yet so noble members of this elite group scented his vulnerability and waited for the right moment to strike. The CEO turned herself back to the floating heads and contemplated who of them might be the first to do so. Some of them were young, barely initiates, some of them where playing this game longer than the CEO had been walking on this planet. She smiled, promising, as her oddly coloured eyes slowly wandered from one shadow to the other - she would like to see the French woman to be the first to strike and fail horribly, considering how disgustedly she sought his vicinity. The Welsh woman was certain that the ice queen was convinced to be the real puppet master, with her hands on the cables which held the leader alive. Pride and arrogance lead to a sorry end.

"Of course, and this is why we should finish this talk and get back to our work. We can settle any discrepancies in private to not stall our plan any further. Unless someone has something to add?" Her partner's voice rose once again to lead the conversation, and with a confident and sweet tone he reached for the addictive taste of the fresh air above. He had tasted it once, and it was hard to get back to it without alarming the leader and his guards. A short moment of silence rested among the conspirators, all of them knew the disciple was right and that they had wasted enough time already. The woman who still kept her attention to the connections, the lifelines, started to impatiently knock on the wooden desk and a creeping feeling of uneasiness filled her office. 223 seconds. 223 seconds since the meeting had started and it took too long, longer than it should. Paranoia slowly took over her mind, gently knocked back, as her eyes started to clung to the data stream on her terminal. 230 seconds. One of them had been compromised already, and with every passed moment, every wasted wink, the danger of being exposed was increased. Usually, regular ticking of her skeleton watch gave her a moment of peace and erased the demons of stress scratching at her door, but this time it was nothing but added pressure. Every single tick, every single tock, opened up one of the countless locks protecting the titans from the unworthy. If they wouldn't stop soon... 242, 243, 244,...

"It seems like no one has something to add then. Proceed as planned, we shall meet again once this minor gaze has been extinguished before it could become a serious danger." Finally. The old emperor himself proclaimed the end of this meeting, and as the elusive heads nodded simultaneously, they vanished into the unknown - like if they have never been there in the first place.

With the face buried in her hands, she slightly lifted her glasses to pinch her nose bridge- a little ritual, or more like a desperate measure to prevent her numbing migraine to come too close to her. A deep sigh, she was relieved that the dreadful conversation was over. Her narrowed eyes aimlessly wandered through the office as she took another deep breath. Large rain drops banged loudly against the glass wall to her left and boisterous thunder grumbled in the distance - it was obvious that the storm has just started and its aftermath will be perceptible for a very long time. Deep down inside of her, she had the forlorn hope it would pass in a heartbeat. All she wanted was her peace, and her temples started to pulsate again. Then her eyes returned to the barely illuminated terminal, bright light always hurt her. Focused, she read the automated report which was created after the bug had been detected, but there wasn't much information. The CEO grunted, displeased, and grabbed her mug just to realize that the last drop of the delicious tea had already been consumed.

"Out of tea again, Gillian?". The sudden appearance of the soft American voice did not startle the woman, she had expected it. He was the only one who was allowed to use her holocom without any permission. He knew she would accept his calls, and the same counted for her.

"Never getting tired of mocking me, Robert." Gillian stood up from her desk and passed the holographic image without giving it the pleasure of a glance. She knew to well how he looked like and which suit he wore today - it was Friday and they knew they would meet, so she expected him to wear a specific one she had bought him last week. And she knew how uncannily realistic those holograms had become through the years. Of course, otherwise a certain illusion for the public wouldn't have worked so splendidly as it did. Relaxedly, she refilled the mug with the elixir of life. Now, that they were among themselves, she could finally feel the tight chains break off from her lean body and the chocking corset fell down, allowing her to breath again.

"I assume you want to talk about a change of plans." the well-dressed man inquired as the woman named Gillian sat down on the edge of her desk and finally faced his projection. Now she couldn't refrain from examining the vivid image in front of her and once again she caught herself admiring the perfection which was created with some precise coding and groundbreaking technology. She could see every single strand of his characteristic auburn hair, even the ones which were still missing due to the surgery the man had just two weeks ago - she still had to get used to the little mechanical dot decorating his forehead. Her red lips formed a pleased smile. "Among other things." Two gentle knocks on the mug with her ring and the conversation was allowed to officially start.

"You made me very curious with your last words. Can I assume you have something specific in mind?" She spoke slowly, and her strong Posh British accent added a warm tint to every word which escaped her lips, precisely punctuated. The other CEO came one step closer and returned her smile - there was an auspicious shine in his bright green eyes. "Oh yes, Darling. I do. Just like Proteus can change the flow of the sea, so can we change the flow of things to our favour with just a little adjustment." He emphasised his last words by holding his left thumb and pointer finger barely apart while looking directly at her.

"Such nice words, but you haven't answered my question yet."

"Oh, I know," he chuckled "Where would be the fun in revealing everything at the beginning?"

Gillian tilted her head and shook it with her eyes closed. "To say it with your beloved mythology: There is no time to wander through the Minotaur's labyrinth while the hourglass is already running out." Once again the man came a step closer and bowed his head before he silently groaned in pain.

"You still can't move your head freely?" The seriousness in her voice disappeared and yielded to a worried tone as she examined his augmentation again.

"Just tilting hurts a bit, it will be alright soon." Robert harshly rubbed his forehead. "However, you are right. There isn't much time if we want to proceed with a new tactic and I will keep myself short, I promise. My proposal is: Let's get back to our old plan and attack Sarif Industries directly. Now, that we have the final confirmation on the research, we cannon allow them to even arrive in Washington. No chance for revealing it should be granted and we can't allow them to slip through our hands like this."

Her skinny fingers brushed over her full lips, her eyes abstractedly staring through her visitor as her mind processed the clear words. She had to admit that this was the only opportunity to achieve the desired result in the little time they had left, but a public event would be more beneficial to further form the public opinion. Especially since the attempted assassination of Taggart didn't took place like in the script they had carefully written.

"Well, Namir and his team are still undermanned after the... incident in Geneva. We would have more men in Washington, guaranteeing that..."

"I know exactly what you are talking about, and trust me, I share your concerns." Page quickly interrupted her. "I know that attacking the team there would push forward our agenda and the UN resolution. Morgan already has all the reports ready, he only needs to push a button to make Eliza tell the public how Purity First attacked the so called Messiah of Augmentation and killed a horrendous amount of civilians and scientists. But just one simple call, and all that can be changed to Detroit."

The woman nodded, and took a deep sip of the already lukewarm liquid. "I am aware of that. It's true that it wouldn't be much of a change. The team is fully prepared and I don't question their competence. And in addition to this they already analysed the whole building."

"Exactly, we only need to tell them to go there, create some chaos, get Reed and..."

"No." This time it was her who cut her partner off. "Not only Reed, the whole team."

"Excuse me?" His expression puzzled, yet his voice stayed calm. Like a curious predator he tilted his head to the side, his right eyebrow raised and his mouth slightly opened. "Why the whole team? We don't need them for our research."

"We don't, but others do." Gillian stood up from her wooden and loyal workspace and headed towards the enormous window. She did not care of he followed her if he even looked at the back of her grey suit. The sight of raindrops in front of her pleased her in a bizarre way. How they banged on the glass door, alone, but immediately seeking their comrades and merging into one. Together they ran down the cold surface, never separated, comfort in unity. "Of course we could simply place Reed at Omega Ranch and force her to work for us at gunpoint. Leaving no choice. But do you really think this would be enough to ..motivate her? That just placing her in a lab with her old mentor Darrow and giving her something to work on will be enough? She would be alone, in a foreign place with people threatening to use violence. Don't mind me, but I don't think this sounds like a motivating environment. We will need the others to create a sense of...familiarity. We need to disguise the real face of this project" Her left fingers playfully danced around the edge of the mug as she smiled into the distance. "Besides, we need to concretise the steps up to this point, since our lovely little talk here rolls up the everything else besides the Tyrants."

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