#my manager sent me her fan fiction too

[sga-owns-my-soul]

i told my coworker she should try rewriting the story she started as teen and never got to finish

and now she's sending it to me to beta read for her

i guess this is my life now?

[arcielee]

Where Is My Mind?

Summary: Modern!FemaleReader’s subconscious has ruined her pussy. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 2579 Warnings: Smutty smut, masturbation, little bit of spanking, oral (fem receiving), p in v, language, drinking.  Author's Note: I did not think I would do a part 2, but I really appreciated the feedback from my first reader insert attempt and loved all the kindred spirits I apparently have on this godforsaken social media platform. ♥ Also, thank you so much @f4ll-for-you​ for your time to read this over! Tags (kindred spirits): @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ This is dedicated to @fan-goddess​ because you made a call out to something and I already had 1k with that in mind.  Series:  Call It Dreaming

It had been three agonizing weeks since that night-that dream?-in Westeros and peace no longer seemed to be an option for your pussy.

At first, after you woke up, hot, bothered, and naked on the couch, you were grateful your roommates utilized a Friday night in a way that your school and work schedule did not allow. You were quick to wrap yourself in the blanket and flee into your room.

You took a moment in your full-length mirror to survey yourself: the thin gash between your breasts was not bleeding, but still had a delicious sting to it, and you had no idea where your clothes were. It must have been some sort of fucked up sleep walking? You cringe at the thought, promising to never watch House of the Dragon outside the safety of your bedroom again. 

It was a very sexy dream, you tell yourself, returning to your bed and collapsing back onto it. Your mind wanders back, remembering the warmth of his hands on your body, the ache between your thighs when he entered you, the sensations of his hard chest pressed against your body…

Your hand trails to your cunt, your fingers desperate to touch and tantalize yourself the way Aemond Targaryen had. Your brow furrows with your concentration, your breath quickens with your motion, and your orgasm comes but it is like the tepid stream of tap water and the faucet was twisted shut.

You almost cry. My subconscious has fucking ruined me.

The thought does not linger and you return to your busy schedule of classes from morning until the afternoon and then your internship that went well into the evening. It was self-inflicted, a last minute decision to throw yourself into a master’s program for historic preservation. Though the internship’s pay was pitiful, it was manageable, and you had peace with your work, taking pride in visiting sites, your documentation process and photography for your filework later. 

It had been perfectly soothing until fucking recently and now every quiet moment led to intrusive thoughts of a specific, fictional, one-eyed prince.

You refused to be broken by your mind, after all you were a modern, independent woman with items purposefully purchased for whenever a situation called for a DIY orgasm. Your free time was on the weekends and you politely decline your roommates’ invitation to go out with the lie that your lady time has arrived. Only after they left could you truly cater to yourself and what you needed. 

Candles are lit, fresh sheets, every toy out on the covers and you sprawl back on your bed, your hands careful to trace where his hands had been, the bruising grip of his large palms, allowing your mind to flutter back to the Red Keep…

…and much to your disappointment, you find that you are still unable to bring yourself the release you had felt that night. 

This is fine, your subconscious has not ruined you, you think as you scroll through your phone to find blood and flesh, assuming that is what your body was craving.

You had an ex that was a suitable candidate; you dated briefly when you both finished your B.A. but found the next steps of both your academic careers required too much time. It was an amicable end and you still sent the occasional text.  

These texts were unlike the polite ones sent before and he was quick to reply. A week later, you were wearing a fitted black dress with a ribbed texture and an apricot cardigan over it, and ankle boots. You walk to the small bar that is only a few blocks away from your apartment, leaving a bit early to request a spiced rum drink for some liquid courage. 

Your ex finally arrives and he is still just as traditionally handsome in a House Stark sense-oh my goddess, leave that G.R.R.M. thought alone-with a big smile beneath his beard and exuding the same golden retriever kindness as before. The conversation is pleasant, catching up on each other’s life updates until the rum floods your brain and the insatiable ache between your thighs demands action. 

You grab him and the two of you fall away into a corner of the bar, but the moment you taste his lips to your own, you knew no modern man would be able to soothe the consistent ache in your lower abdomen, to satiate the void that gnawed within you. 

He notes your change in your demeanor and breaks away. “Hey, it’s cool if we just remain friends,” he offers with his token, genuine kindness, completely unaware of your internal warfare with your mind. 

There is a moment you think to protest, but decide against it. “Yeah, thanks, sorry,” you reply with a defeatist sigh. “I have, just, really been off lately. I think it’s because of my lady time,” you renew your lie. 

“Oh? I could just walk you home, if you want?” You shake your head, “It’s okay. I am a few blocks away. Thanks anyway.”

Your steps are determined and you make sure to stop at the mart on the way home, grabbing a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a cheap bottle of red dessert wine. In the solitude of your apartment, you grab two coffee mugs, one for ice cream and one for wine, making it easy to walk back to your room.

You throw off your cardigan and shoes, plopping onto your mattress, and fumble with the remote to turn on House of the Dragon, starting at episode eight. 

My subconscious has ruined me, was your last thought, bringing a spoonful to your mouth. 

And here you were, once again, standing in his same room and he, Aemond Targaryen, is seated in the same leather chair and facing the fireplace. The fire crackles loudly and gives a golden hue to the side profile of the prince. His posture is perfect, with one leg crossed on top of the other, his arm poised on the armrest and his thumb running the length of his fingertips and back again. 

“You lied to me.”

Your eyes widen as he pushes from his seat and squares off to you; he is wearing leather trousers and a loose, white tunic with the sleeves rolled up to show his toned forearms decorated with silver hair. His tunic is not laced up and his hard chest peaks beneath, moving with his steady breaths. 

Your heart pounds against your chest at the sight of him, your mind reviewing your last lucid dream of this perfect man who spoke so few words and you knew that you would not dare to lie to him, dream or not. You chew your bottom lip and allow your tongue to wet it, taking slow steps towards him, counting in-between each step to resist throwing yourself at his feet. 

“What do you mean, my prince?” Your tone is controlled, but you can feel the heat in your cheeks. 

He hummed and you swear you saw the hint of a smile touch his lips. “You said you were a whore that my brother had sent,” he continued, taking deliberate steps to close the space between you two. 

Oh, that, you remember the exchange and were quick to say, “My prince,” lowering your lidded eyes. “I had only said that I had been sent for your pleasure,” your tone is coy and your arms cross below your chest to showcase the bit of cleavage allowed with the scoop neckline, noting the dilation of his lavender eye that roams your figure. “You made the assumption that I was just another one of your brother’s whores.” 

You now can see the curl of his lips and you sigh your relief. He steps closer and reaches his hand to touch your jaw; his touch elicits a physical response and goosebumps ripple over your body, your nipples peeking beneath your dress. His lavender eye drinks in your figure. “You never did tell me,” he murmured, his voice dark and velvet.

“I have been sent for your plea-” you tried to begin, but he was quick to cut you off.

“Where are you from?”

Your mind floods with a response: How do I explain I am from the 21st century and he is the figment of my sexy imagination? Your eyes remain locked on the prince and you struggle to control your voice, “I cannot say.” 

His expression is unreadable and his only reply is his low hum, then his hand grasps onto your hips, turning you and bringing your body flush against his chest. He nuzzles into your neck, pushing your hair aside so his mouth can suck and nip at the nape. His large hands grip onto your stomach and follow your curves, moving to the hem of your dress and pulling it to your hips.

You moan from his warm touch as his fingers trace the lace of your cotton thong and move towards your center, titillating your slit. You feel your clit pulsing from his touch and he hums again, hugging you close with one arm wrapping around your waist and his other hand cupping your cloth cunt; his hips roll against you and you can feel his bulge grind against your ass. 

“So fucking wet,” he groans against your neck and more goosebumps ripple in response. 

“Yes, my prince,” you say with your exhale, twisting to face him and find his lips. 

He opens his mouth to deepen the kiss and your tongue responds with long, languid movements to drink in the taste of his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, bruising your lips against his own, and his hands trail the curve of your hips and to your backside, feeling the bare flesh of your ass. His palm rises and slaps soundly against your skin; you squeal in response. “My prince!” You pull back, your cheeks and nose flushed from kissing.

“You act as if no other man has handled you this way,” he smirks. “Wherever you come from, do the men there make you feel a certain way?” 

Fuck me, I have never felt like this, but you feel shy with his question and instead say, “My prince, I have been searching for the pleasure you gave me and I have yet find anything that compares…”

Your answer is petting his ego, yes, but gods he was pretty. You did not expect him to speak further and your body pines to feel his touch, his lips once more. “And when you search to recreate,” his lips curl with his words, “the pleasure I gave you, did you use your hands?”

His tone is low, husky with his question and your cheeks burn when you nod yes. 

“Show me. I want you to touch yourself.”

Before you can comprehend what he said, his hands grab the small of your waist and bring you back towards the bed. He pushes you back, your dress still bunched around your hips, and climbs on top to find your lips for a slow, lingering kiss before moving lower to grab the lace strings to remove your thong.

The cool air nips at the wetness between your thighs and he brings your fingers to his mouth, suckling to lube them. Your back arches from the tickle of his tongue to your fingertips and you pull back your hand, letting it fall between to caress your swollen slit, your eyes never leaving him.

He takes a step back and moves his hands to unlace the top of his trousers, his hand reaching to caress his cock and his steady gaze never leaving you. It feels sinful and you feel the first crest of pleasure wash over, a soft sigh slipping from your lips. 

“Daor,” his voice pulls you from the edge, his gaze darkened on you. “Nyke mērī vestās renigon.”

No. I only said to touch. 

He pulls the loose tunic over his head, his silver hair spilling onto his shoulders and his leather trousers low on his hips, his Adonis belt prominent on his toned abdomen. He moves to press his hands onto the peaks of your thighs, pushing the dress further up and you are quick to peel off the rest in time to see him dip between your thighs. 

His mouth finds your center and you smother yourself in the bunched fabric of your dress as his tongue runs your slit. Aemond pauses and peers at you for a moment. “I need to hear you,” he says, his breath warm on your cunt and you are quick to throw the dress aside. 

He returns his attention, his tongue lavishing you; your hands are eager to comb his silken hair and he hums his pleasure into your cunt. Your moans grow wanton and the pleasure builds towards your crescendo when he stops suddenly.

You prop yourself onto your elbows to look at him and the curl of his lips seem wicked. “I have been waiting for you to return to me,” he said simply. “You will not have your release until I decide.”

Before you can protest, he moves quickly, his hands sink into your flesh with his hold and flipping you onto your stomach, drawing you closer towards the bed edge until your legs drop and your feet touch the cobblestone. You feel his chest press against your backside and the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance before he sinks into you. You moan with his delicious stretch and he gives a low groan as he bottoms out in you, falling forward and pressing his lips to your spine. 

“Just as I remember,” he growls, before his hands grab onto your hips and he ruts into you with a brutal pace. Your arms stretch in front to grab hold of anything as you feel him crash against you, his hip bones digging into the softness of your ass and reaching a depth that has your nipples taut with pleasure. 

“My prince,” your cries are pitiful and you can feel his breath on your spine.

“Ñuha brōzi,” his tone husky. “Vestragon ūja.”

My name. Say it.

“Aemond, please,” you obey, the crescendo building again and you see stars flitting across your vision. “Aemond, Aemond…” 

He can feel the flutter of your cunt but his pace does not cease until he feels you clenching, crying out as your orgasm rolls over your entire body; his thrusts slow with his release and he falls forward, wrapping his arms around you to hold you flush against him for a moment. 

You are torn between the fortune of another successful sexy dream and your realization that your subconscious has absolutely ruined your pussy, but you push the thoughts aside when he pulls you back beneath the covers. You curl up against the prince, your head resting against his chest while his fingertips travel the length of your spine and back. 

“You said I kept you waiting,” you say shyly.

He hums at first and then he says, “I imagine you will leave me again.”

“I will need to,” you feel an ache with your words. “But I will stay as long as I am able to.” 

Aemond hums again and turns to pull you against his chest. You feel the press of his lips to your hairline and feel the flush of goosebumps with the murmur of his words, “Sȳz riña.”

Good girl. 

[luna-blood]

I was debating on YouTube about Sasuke but YouTube deletes comments, especially those that have a link. It was also difficult for me to search for the publications. So I gave myself the task of collecting posts from all Sasuke fans and neutral critics of the work 'Naruto' that talk about Sasuke and his relationship with the other Naruto characters. I have also included my contributions, such as questions to other users and post responses. I hope this post helps you when you need support when you are debating in favor of Sasuke. Without anything else to say, I leave you the links:

Positive qualities of Sasuke.

Sasuke's chakra is extremely powerful, voluminous, and denser than Senjutsu chakra!

It is false that Bee could have killed Sasuke any time he wanted.

¡Sasuke has been shown to nullify mortal wounds with Raiton!

Sasuke is literally the first person to survive the Raikage's Liger Bomb.

All Sasuke received from Raikage was a small lip bleed, while Raikage lost an arm and another Kage, Gaara, had to intervene to save his leg and his life.

Orochimaru's "physical condition" has nothing to do with his ritual and Sasuke's victory.

Analysis Sasuke vs Deidara.

Sasuke killed Danzo; he did not commit suicide.

Are Itachi and Kakashi really prodigies at the level their fans believe them to be? No.

The only reason Naruto managed to hurt Kaguya was because Sasuke forced her to change dimensions more than once and she herself had changed dimensions about four times in total.

Because Sasuke haters say that Haku is simply more tragic and a better person than Sasuke; and Batman too!

What is it about Sasuke that provokes people so much, compared to all the other fictional characters (in and out of Naruto) who have done bad things? Gaara was killing people for fun in part 1, but no one ever complains about him not being punished. Zuko from ATLA burned down a village of civilians, sent a hitman after Team Avatar, and was just lucky that no civilian was injured/killed, but everyone adores him. But Sasuke is unredeemable for threatening to destroy the village?

A back and forth on why Sasuke is a much better realized character, with thematic and narrative depth, compared to Kurapika and Zuko.

Sasuke is the imperfect victim unlike the perfect victims of ATLA and Full Metal Alchemist.

Sasuke's character is too good for the Naruto universe.

Are people upset that Sasuke was going to let the Shinobi Alliance perish?

Sasuke as a feminist icon.

Sakura is a female incel.

Sakura is a narcissistic.

Sakura inserted herself because she wanted validations from people who were out of her league, that's why. She is perfect for self-insert.

The mere idea of turning over an entire manga in your head in which Sasuke hides a raging boner (at age 12) for Sakura is... repulsive. Don't you have anything better to do?

Sasuke never kissed Sakura.

The blow on the forehead is not the maximum expression of love.

Naruto Gaiden is a fucking masterpiece! It proves that Sasuke doesn't love Sakura.

Sasuke retsuden is not canon.

Sasuke retsuden is not canon, Jun Esaka herself said it and if you are a fan of Sasuke it is normal that you hate Sakura because Sasuke is unhappy with her.

Sasuke still considers Sakura inferior.

Sasuke didn't push Sakura away because of the curse of hate.

Sasuke rejected Sakura, Ino and Karin, he didn't push them away because he was afraid.

Sasuke is not in love with Karin and did not have sex in part 2 with Karin.

Why Karin's fans say she had sex with Sasuke in part 2.

What does Kakashi know about the genocide and the physical and mental torture that would lead the child victim to a fatal coma, at the hands of a family member?

Naruto is a narcissistic.

Why Naruto is the worst character.

How can anyone read the two chapter panels showing two very different worlds the characters occupy and be surprised by the way it ended? They were not going to reconcile since the world where Sasuke exists is the antithesis of the world where his former team resides.

Lee was never "good” at Taijutsu, let alone being a genius at it. The series' main theme, revolves around bonds. When the manga began, Naruto let loose Kurama (unintentionally) against Haku, breaking all Ice Mirrors that ... no Jutsu could break; and that, happened way back in the Waves Arc. How does that associate "hard-work" with Naruto's character, upon whom many poor souls project their misfortunes to feel vindicated, when two geniuses (Sasuke and Kakashi) in the near-vicinity failed? Naruto powered through this via nothing but brute force; and that isn't a precursor to hard-work. That's the exact opposite. With the beginning of the next Arc, the "if we work hard, we could beat all odds, too" trope lovers got their kicks from Sasuke's humiliation at Lee's hands (or gates?); but then they conveniently forget that Lee himself stated that what Sasuke accomplished was literally impossible for someone like him (he even emphasized on this argument). Gai even went so far as to state that even with the Sharingan's power, Sasuke should never have been able to do what he did (he literally invented his own Taijutsu maneuver from Lee's in a single day; if that's not prodigious, I don't know what is); and Gai, last I checked, is an authority on the subject of Taijutsu, not you—yes, you! Sasuke mastered Kimimaro's CS in under two hours whilst Lee survived simply because Kimimaro was dying and he literally died whilst delivering a death-blow to Gaara and Lee; so thematically, narratively, and metaphorically, Sasuke matched an adversary against whom both Gaara and Lee lost? That and Lee was outshined by Sasuke twice in a row, going so far as to undermine Lee in his own life endeavors that involved years of sweat and tears?

Shikamaru's revenge is meaningless unlike Sasuke's.

People who support Nagato but vilify Sasuke sound a lot more idiotic than they think.

In defense of Fugaku.

How does Sasuke's revolution develop?

Why didn't the narrative validate Sasuke's radical change from Konoha's Will of Fire to the Revolution?

Itachi massacred the clan out of conscience.

The difference between Kushina and Itachi is not that big.

The policies of Tobirama Senju and the Uchiha genocide.

At what point will people stop demanding Sasuke?

Tsunade was at the forefront of the Second Shinobi World War that massacred the people of Nagato, plundered their land's resources, and continued to use the land as a battlefield resulting in mass deaths, poverty, and suffering. A war that Konoha started.

Why do so many people still blame Sasuke for Sasuke's past?

Uchihas do not have mental illnesses.

Sasuke vs Readers without empathy.

Kishimoto canon vs Studio Pierrot fanservice.

The brilliant change of perspective and theme between Hebi and Taka Sasuke; and that there is no writing defect in the moment in which Sasuke stabs Karin to reach Danzō.

Tobirama never accepted the Uchiha as true allies like Hashirama did, never trusting them, something he admitted so openly that his brother had to warn him "not to continue pursuing the Uchiha." And the Uchiha weren't planning to kill innocent people, they were planning to take over the government itself.

Kishimoto is anti sasusaku and anti naruhina.

Kishimoto never wanted to write Boruto.

The real Sasuke fans.

Sasuke winking at Sakura was never happened in the manga, it was a translation error.

[vladdyissues]

It's so cute that you uploaded some puffy, you're so kind 😭💞

But I have a question, why did they even block his account? How does Tumblr block an account? He didn't upload anything bad [?]

To the best of my knowledge—and I say this because I did not see every single one of Puffy's posts—Puffy did everything that Tumblr requires when it comes to posting "mature" artwork. She tagged her posts, used Community Labels, cropped and/or censored thumbnails, and made use of the "Read More" option. She was bolder than me when it came to posting certain art styles and speaking unabashedly, but that's a difference in personality. Puffy is a free spirit, incredibly witty, and absolutely hilarious. I'm old and crotchety and try to avoid drama if I can help it—not to say that Puffy in any way invited or deserved termination. She did not.

But she was no match for a targeted mass-reporting campaign. And, unfortunately, there's no way to know just how many people were involved or how much harassment she's been receiving since she joined Tumblr. I know there were at least three asks, likely more, and one rude comment left on one of her artworks early on.

But Tumblr has a poor track record when it comes to making decisions and meting out justice. They don't typically perform thorough investigations, they panic when they see certain words, and they're also prone to outrageous hypocrisy—like the fact that gifs of graphic, live-action porn somehow still manage to survive on this site after 10 years and a purge that cost the company a billion dollars in value, and how they claim to be "the queerest place on the internet" while simultaneously alienating and fostering a hostile environment for the queer artists who are largely responsible for Tumblr's success. Porn and spam bots run amok, but the blogs of marginalized people and artists are first on the chopping block.

I myself have had blogs deleted for lesser reasons. A couple years ago I created a "ship week" event blog, which was deleted simply because at one point in the TV show, one of the characters in the ship was a minor. The blog posted G-rated prompts. It was text-based with completely worksafe header graphics. It didn't endorse any age ranges, but left that up to the discrimination of the participants. The participants complied with Tumblr's TOS if they posted 18+ content, cropping images, using Community Labels and such. Everything adhered strictly to Tumblr's guidelines.

But I was the target for a lot of hatred from the rest of the fandom. They hated my guts because I shipped "the wrong ship"—because it was a gay ship, because it upset the canon heterosexual ship that one of the characters was in, because I wasn't sniveling in fear whenever they sent me hateful asks, because I refused to be bullied or shamed. They went after us because we were a tiny group of fans, easy to target and eradicate. Disgusting behavior, really.

I tried to appeal the deletion, but I never heard back from Tumblr. Fine. I moved the event to another platform (and it looked much better there, too), and that was that.

In short, Tumblr would rather delete a hundred innocent blogs out of fear of offending their ad sponsors rather than 1) investigate the claims made against the blog, or 2) give the blog owner a chance to delete the offending content.

One final thing:

Last month, around 17 June 2024, several Pompep fans on Tumblr received anywhere between 1-3 anonymous asks telling us to kill ourselves or "get raped".

Over cartoon characters.

It's a sad state of things when there's more sympathy, respect and agency given to drawings of fictional lines than living, breathing people.

[httpknjoon]

proof, they say | ksj

plot | Every proof that random people took just to prove your relationship.

words | 2.2k+

genres | humor/crack, fluff, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | usernames used in the fic are all fictional. this "thread" is briefly mentioned in lie detector test. I was second-guessing if I should post this for a while. now, I am posting it before the finale! I have more proofs but I chose not to put it here anymore! if you want to read more proofs, send me an ask and I'll gladly reply with it. enjoy reading!

main masterlist | drabble series

Sometime in 2021, Twitter user @/bluemoon04 posted a thread of tweets, which later became one of the most essential posts in the YN-JIN fandom. It was published just weeks later after Jin’s Lie Detector Test video from Vanity Fair and it gets an update every time someone gets more proof of The A-Listers’ real relationship.

As of December 2022, the thread has almost eighty-nine thousand likes and thirty thousand and four hundred plus retweets and requotes. The proofs posted can be hit or miss. But user bluemoon04 shares it anyway and lets the others share their thoughts about it. Others can also submit their own proofs to the account through direct message.

Proof no. 1: [THAT TUMBLR POST IN JANUARY 2019]

behind the scenes...

A twenty-second video was posted on Tumblr sometime in the last quarter of 2019 by a newly-made account. The post only had three tags: #YN, #JIN, and #YNJIN. The algorithm worked and published the video in everyone’s feed. It received a thousand notes by the twenty-four-hour mark. It also reached other social media sites. Mostly, Twitter.

Fans— even the local audience is in awe after watching the video. What’s in it? You might wonder.

It’s just you and Jin sitting on a bench under a light post on a dark night in a lakeside park. It was seemingly taken during the production of Maybe Yes, Maybe No. It was a crowded place with the crew and staff members walking around to do their job while the actors wait on the side.  Amidst the busy background, you and Jin can be seen enjoying ice cream on cones as you chat, inaudibly.

It looked like you two were busy in your own world while the crew members carry stuff around the set. Jin said something that made you laugh hard.

“God! That was terrible!” you told him before laughing at whatever Jin said.

“You loved it!” he replied.

Those were the only audible dialogue from the clip. You two continued talking as you eat the cold treat. And based on everyone who saw the video, Jin can melt– not just the ice cream– but also you with how he stared at you intently while you tell your story. You then paused when you felt the weight of his stare, your eyebrows raised. He chuckled, shaking his head, before wiping the ice cream on the corner of your lips with his thumb. The video ended when a crew member walked up to you two.

Proof no. 2: [JIN SIGHTINGS IN LESS LIKELY PLACES pt. 1]

@/multifan0303: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD MY MOM JUST SENT ME THIS 

The tweet was originally posted in January 2020. The first picture was Jin’s signature on a piece of paper. For the second and last one, there’s a picture of the original poster’s mom with the actor. It’s not new for Jin to take pictures with fans he is out in public. But what made the whole fandom crazy about it is it was taken in a pet store and he was holding a basket full of cat food and supplies.

replying to @/multifan0303

- @/multifan0303: my mom doesn’t know who he is. but she saw her other customer that time asking for a picture with him so she asked for a picture and autograph too HDJSKLJFKDSLGKLJFDS

– @/greenpr4da: look at that basket

— @/v3rsaceyn: and you’re telling me jin hates cats????

—- @/franchiecat: he doesn’t even have a cat 😭

Proof no. 3 [LIVING TOGETHER ALLEGATIONS PT. 1]

During the first lockdown during the pandemic in 2020, everyone began suspecting about you and Jin living together in a house in Connecticut. With a lot of free time, the media managed to find a real estate posted online located in the said state that apparently looked like the house you were rumored to be living together in.

con mi hija 🌸

You captioned it in one of your Instagram posts in 2020. It was a selfie of you with Francheskat in your backyard. The picture was focused on your pet and only half of your face can be seen. A wall from your house can also be seen, showing that your home does have a stone exterior. Since you are more active on social media than Jin, your eagle-eyed fans also spotted in a different picture that you also have the identical Victorian lamp that the actor had behind him during a virtual interview.

“Just tell us are you and Y/N living together?!” Donny asked jokingly during an online fundraiser event with you, Jin, and other friends.

Jin shakes his head, laughing, “We’re not.”

“We do!” you huffed dramatically. “No one told me this man doesn’t know how to wash his laundry!”

Other participants laughed at your exaggerated and sarcastic tone. That was the first time you two acknowledged the gossip publicly and it was definitely not the last. You acknowledged it again when you greeted him on his birthday.

Proof no. 4: [BUB]

Both supporters and the press caught on Jin slipping his endearment for you during events with you back in 2021. Fans made video compilations and listed down the times your co-actor called you ‘bub’ on numerous occasions. Sometimes it was hushed, sometimes it felt like it just slipped from his lips. Jin finally addressed it when W Magazine brought up the topic during a magazine cover with you.

“Yeah, why do you call me that?” you turned your head to him, still in your look for the editorial shoot you two did.

Jin’s lips broke into a smile as he looked at you. He rested his chin on his palm when he answered, “It’s nothing really… It just slips out, bub”

As far as everyone witnessed from his whole career in Hollywood, you were the only co-worker Jin sometimes calls by a nickname. He never explained where it came from and was only questioned about it once.

Proof no.5: [THE TALE OF FRANCHESKAT]

“Yeah, that’s my lovely daughter, Francheskat.” you shared when Stephen Colbert brought up the picture of your pet.

“I heard she’s from an animal shelter in London. Is that right?” the host asked and you nodded from your seat.

“Yes! I visited a few shelters there during the production of my new film there and I was in awe when I first met her!”

“Oh, so you adopted her right away from that moment?”

“I didn’t…” you shook your head. “I was too busy and I was only in London for less than two weeks. My schedule was jampacked, and I never got to drop by the shelter again.”

“But I have a friend who saw how much I want to have this beautiful cat and surprised me like a month later after I got back in LA. It was so unexpected, I cried.” you laughed.

That interview was in 2017, months before the release of your first movie with Jin. Francheskat was the main reason why you made an Instagram account again after deactivating your old account back in 2016. Based on your fans’ calculations, you recently just finished filming Cornelia Street when you began posting about your cat. And Jin was seen in London around the same time you shot your own scenes there.

These facts strengthen your fans’ belief that Jin was the friend you were talking about. Especially with how close your co-star is to your cat, even though he claims he isn’t a big fan of felines.

Proof no. 6 [Y/N SPOTTED IN LESS LIKELY EVENTS  PT.1]

“I don’t really celebrate any holidays.” you shared during an interview back in 2014. “I just spend those days like my other rest days except I send gifts to my friends.”

You have been living alone ever since you were emancipated from your father’s control. You usually sleep or work through Christmas and New Year’s eve or any other commonly big holiday, treating it as a normal day. You always find it exhausting to prepare for such events when you live alone. The only special event you celebrate is your mom’s or close friends’ birthdays. Your fans are aware of this fact and made sure to send you sweet greetings during holidays as you post pictures from your home. You were never spotted outside either by the press during these events.

@/DonnyNextDoor: happy thanksgiving from us!!

In the celebration of Thanksgiving Day back in 2021, Donny posted a photo of your circle of friends. You stood next to Bella Hadid, who was Donny’s girlfriend at the time. Next to you were Jin and your three other mutual friends.

@/daisiesandroses: omg yn holiday contents

Fans were happy to see you with friends during that time. They expected that you will post something for Christmas and New Year’s too. However, you only posted an Instagram story each, greeting everyone. Someone claimed they spotted you in New York for Times Square Ball but no pictures floated online.

Proof no. 7: [VERSACE ON THE FLOOR]

It has been known to everyone that you have always been a massive admirer of the luxury fashion brand, Versace. Donatella has been a great friend of yours ever since you became a brand ambassador for the said brand when you were 22. And even though you had contracts with other brands in the following years, you maintained a good relationship with her. You’ve also been invited to fashion week events and you always try to go if your tight schedule can accommodate it. You were even featured in Bruno Mars’ music video for his hit song, Versace On The Floor.

@/SE0KJINM00N: SOMEONE SEND ME THAT PHOTO HE DELETED IT!!

@/hellobubba: was that versace on that fucking floor or am i seeing things

@/peopleoncrnlstrt: LMAO he deleted the ig story

But sometime in 2019, Jin posted a picture in his Instagram Stories which he deleted less than two minutes later. The photo is simple. It was a picture of the latest book he read. He was holding it down, seemingly an innocent one. But if you travel your eyes to the upper corner of the image, even though the background’s a little blurry, a black piece of clothing can be seen. It was immediately recognizable due to the fact that it has the word Versace printed all over it. 

And since you were the closest person to him that everyone knows, the fans assumed it was yours. You were once seen a couple of years ago sporting a bikini top with the same design, just different colors. People searched online and found that there is, indeed, a Versace one-piece swimsuit with the exact design.

Although the photo was never talked about in public, that Versace mystery became an inside joke in the fandom.

Proof no. 8: [LIVING TOGETHER ALLEGATIONS PT. 2]

urfavecatlady started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

August 2020. You had a five-minute live on your Instagram account, simply just to chat with your fans while you were waiting for your cookies in the oven. It was short yet chaotic.

“Oh, I tried baking today! I saw an easy recipe online. I’ll share the link on Twitter later.” you answered a fan as you put down your phone. You sported a now-messy apron. The apron? It was a gift from Timmy. He learned I love ba–”“

“Ouch!”

Someone exclaimed in the background, followed by the noises of something falling on the ground. You paused and looked at whatever was behind your phone. Your eyes widened. But you tried to compose yourself as you look back at the camera.

“Francheskat jumped on some– on my stuff. Gotta go! I’ll update y’all with the cookies later. Bye!” your voice trailed off as you end the Instagram Live.

@/amymarchdefender: i think i heard someone during yn’s live

@/princessbubblegum: is she quarantining with someone???!?

Some fans claimed it was not Francheskat, but Jin. Although the mystery voice was not that audible, they claimed it was him. Others believed that maybe you are really going through lockdowns with someone who is not Jin. There are few people who believe that you really have a longtime secret partner, someone who is not in the same industry as you. Nonetheless, everyone never knew who it was.

The thread still receives updates from time to time even though you took a break and Jin is not really that active on social media. The owner of the tweet still gets submissions from various fans.

Now, October 2023. Jin hasn’t had any public appearances since his series premiere on HBO. He is still in for Waller-Bridge’s movie. You, on the other hand, were getting gossip that you will be having a cameo with Greta Gerwig’s Barbie. Some believed that you will be retiring or will take years to come back. Both of you two were not active on social media. Your last post in your Instagram feed was in August. And Jin’s was May.

But one of Hollywood's biggest celebrity gossip sources is the Instagram account, Deuxmoi, posted something that made a noise in your fandom.

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, Please: Cookie Monster

Email: heardit@the.gravevine

Subject: Everyone’s Fave Cat Lady

Message: A friend of mine works in one of the longest-running live television shows. They said that a prominent A-lister actress is returning in front of the cameras after taking a sudden break for more than a year. Her comeback will be announced next week! Watch out!

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST

@jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @lovesickbangtan @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @bloopkook @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe @hiii-priestess @lojocas @juju-227592 @singukieee @eshtravagent @canarystwin @petalsofink

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd​ @cixrosie​ @jksjx​ @embrace-themagic​ @buttvi​ @starbtslove​ @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @pixybear @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Fiction, Adult, Fantasy, Humor

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Content Warning: Violence, Death, Suicide, Sexual content, Torture, Murder, Sexual assault, Rape, Genocide           

Summary: From bestselling author Django Wexler comes a laugh-out-loud fantasy tale about a young woman who, tired of defending humanity from the Dark Lord, decides maybe the Dark Lord doesn’t have it all wrong after all, perfect for fans of Terry Pratchett and KJ Parker.

Davi has done this all before. She’s tried to be the hero and take down the all-powerful Dark Lord. A hundred times she’s rallied humanity and made the final charge. But the time loop always gets her in the end. Sometimes she’s killed quickly. Sometimes it takes a while. But she’s been defeated every time.

This time? She’s done being the hero and done being stuck in this endless time loop. If the Dark Lord always wins, then maybe that’s who she needs to be. It’s Davi’s turn to play on the winning side.

*Opinions*

I watch a lot of bookish content, which is why my TBR continues to grow and not shrink, but this is another read influenced by social media. It was a five-star read for the Booktalker (booksandlala) and the premise sounded interesting to me, so I requested it from the library. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was not what I got out of this novel. This was a satirical, fourth-wall-breaking romp through this fantasy world of Wexler’s creation. While I enjoyed my time in this world (though with a few critics) this novel will not be for everyone.

How to Become the Dark Lord or Die Trying follows Davi, a chosen one sent from Earth to a fantasy realm to save the Kingdom. The only problem? She keeps failing at this task and dying over and over and over again. The good news is that she always returns to where she started, a pool where she first emerged—the bad news, after a couple of thousand years that gets really old. Eventually, Davi decides that she wants to be on the winning team and tries not to save the kingdom, but become the Dark Lord that eventually destroys it. While there are a lot of false starts on this path as well, eventually Davi has a small horde of Wilders, and on her way to the meeting that will choose the next Dark Lord. However, without knowing how things work on this side of the world, Davi has to rely on her wits and a whole lot of luck to get the title she so dearly wants. Then again, if she dies, she can just try again, right?

The way that Wexler wrote this fantasy novel was reminiscent of a Mel Brooks movie, though I would not state that it is executed as well as one of those movies. Davi takes every well-worn fantasy trope and turns it on it’s head during her time attempting to become the Dark Lord, including murdering her quest giver multiple times. The issue I have is that near the end of the novel, is that Wexler attempts to go from a funny romp to serious questions about the world and Davi mentally manages the change in her understanding of how the world works. I understand that satirical novels need a plot, but the shift to serious lore and Davi losing her mind a little was a pretty serious shift, which is then forgotten after a couple of chapters.

The internal logic of this novel did not work at times well, which I didn’t get too hung up on given that this is a humorous novel, but I did catch it. The biggest one is that Davi does not remember anything about her life before coming to this fantasy world, she mentions this multiple times, yet she uses almost exclusively pop culture and known references from our world. You would think that after a couple of thousand years, she would forget movie lines along with what she used to do for a living. You would also think that she would catch on to the lore and myths of this world and use their slang. She is able to speak Wilder, but decides to confuse everyone around her constantly by continuing to talk in Earth references. I get that it is the humor of the novel, but it didn’t make sense within the logic of the world Wexler developed.

While I enjoyed my time with this novel, but most readers will know within the first twenty-five pages whether they like the narrative voice or if it is going to drive them insane. When describing the humor and overall narrative voice to a friend, I stated that it reminded me of Youtubers, especially in the gaming sphere, in the heyday of its popularity. Think like Smosh or early Markipler and Jacksepcticeye. If that is not the type of humor you enjoy, Davi is going to get on your nerves immediately. At times, I even found her a bit too much but I was enjoying the twist on a fantasy novel that I was able to push through those instances, which happened mostly at the beginning of the novel. Another writing aspect that did not really work for me was any time Davi was thinking about sex, which was a lot (see my comment about Youtuber humor). Now there were not the more egregious issues of a man writing a female main character, but there was something in the way that he wrote her horniess that made it clear the author was a man. I am not saying that women cannot be extremely horny, it is the way that it was written. I wish I had a better way to describe it. Again, I watched a lot of Youtube in my day so I was able to deal with it, but I can see it being an issue for other readers.

I personally did not like Davi a lot, but the surrounding characters were enough to push me through when she was extremely annoying. Still, even the primary romance didn’t hold my attention, mostly due to the issue I had with how Davi was written in terms of her thoughts on sex and her pursuing those needs. I did like her love interest, they were one of the few sincere characters in this novel.

I know this all makes it sound as if I didn’t enjoy the novel, but I had a good time while I was reading it. I just never found that I wanted to pick it back up. This is a story that I am interested in seeing where it is going, especially given the ending, but I will be picking it up from the library. This is a 3.5 read

[11queensupreme11]

Just wanted to ask (not sure if this got sent properly) but how could a loser!girlflop!MC NOT set back feminism?

Especially in the premise of your fic, where, if the tags are anything to go by, the female girlflop mc will lose everything she holds dear including her mental stability and bodily autonomy to five or more overpowered MEN (granted they are gods, but still men.)

The main difference between her and OG!Percy, who got both the love of his life Annabeth and a pretty set future at New Rome College? Their gender.

Just to explain, I for one fully, or at least mostly understood what I was getting into when I began reading Arsenic Blues. I saw the Dead Dove tag, and know how to differentiate reality from fiction.

However, there’s a possibility that some loud mouthed single braincelled men out there (or women with internalized misogyny) that considers a fem!Percy with practically the same strength, abilities, and personality, too pretentious or something, began reading your fic after seeing the tags to get off on fem!Percy being non con fucked out of her mind, traumatized, and knocked down a peg or billion, reduced to a mere common victim of the gods, because they don’t like the concept of a strong fem!Percy. Cuz surely a loser coded girl saving Olympus is just a fluke and she needs to be put in her place by capable men😒

(This possibility is of course not your problem nor responsibility of course, but it still does not negate the fact that it sets back feminism, as some may use it as “proof” that women are inferior idiots that can’t be trusted with power.

“Look at OG!Male!Percy! He saved Olympus and the world twice with little to no major losses, got the girl, and has a bright future! Look at fem!Percy. This idiot managed to destroy her world in her stupid attempt to do what only a male version of her could! I knew that first time was a fluke!)

An example of this would be Zenitsu from Demon Slayer, ( a loser coded cringey but cute badass, first character that came to mind), who has a pretty large fan base despite his loser personality. Make Zenitsu a girl, and all of a sudden everyone is bashing her for being the weak link, dead weight, pick me bitch.

Or using TBOSAS, some people truly blame Lucy Gray for leaving a clearly psychotic person and says that the Hunger Games were her fault for leaving. It’s her fault that Snow turned evil, blaming the woman for the man’s actions.

(you sent this twice, but the only difference is the last paragraph, so im just gonna answer to this one instead of repeating both, hope you don't mind!)

i truly don't believe my fanfic is gonna set feminism back because, as you said, it's not my responsibility if some incel or girl with internalized misogyny sees it and uses it as a "gotcha" that "hahaha girls are weak cuz look what happened to fem!percy".

no normal person is gonna read my fic (or any book like this in general tbh) and suddenly think "omg.... girls are inferior to men! this book told me so and i'm gonna take it as fact!". if someone does think that, then they already had issues to begin with way before they started reading. my fic did not give them those issues.

normal ppl don't let themselves get influenced by a book in such a way because they've already gotten a solidified sense of right or wrong and they should already know "yeah the stuff happening to this MC is bad and not at all their fault. anyway! time to enjoy more of their suffering 🤪".

UNLESS ofc, they don't have a fully solidified sense of right or wrong, meaning they're just way too young to be reading my fic (or books like it). even then, not really my fault because i already gave out the warnings and even ao3 gives an additional "are you sure you wanna read this?" page. people can't control who reads the fics/books, they can just give out warnings

also, about the og male!percy vs my fem!percy thing, i can easily just write fanfic about og!percy going through the same thing. then what are they gonna say? in fact, there already ARE some juicy dark fics about poor og percy, savior of olympus, being reduced to just another victim of the gods (there's actually a lot more dark fics of og!percy going through traumatizing shit then there are fem!percy ones hehe 😍)

[saltsicklover]

Bloody Knuckles - Fan Mail Pt. 7

Title: Bloody Knuckles - Fan Mail Pt. 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3925

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, blood, anger. Steve Rogers being the absolute worst. Angsty as hell, honestly. Let me know if I missed anything.

I am so sorry in advance.  

-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

Ace is ready to take on the world, at least that's what she tells herself, heading out of the apartment, ready for a long awaited day off, but the letters she found stacked in her mailbox give her pause. It's been a few days since she checked her mail, the wanting to hear from Bucky swollen in her chest but the exhaustion from work kept her walking past her mailbox. Three envelopes sit in a stack, each with the return address to Avengers Tower, each baring a unique date and name, the handwriting impossibly different from one another. 

She flips through them, first ripping open the letter she knows came from Bucky. Her heart flutters a bit as she unfolds the bright yellow paper. She reads over the words, taking in each swoop and curve of the delicate letters. The way Bucky poured his entire heart into his words manages to bruise hers a little but the idea that he thinks she may not be real, a con, a flat out lie absolutely breaks her. 

Tears rim her eyes, blurring the lines of the letter. She runs her fingers over the end script, her fingertips tingling, "With too much hope and heartache". The line eats at her heart straight through her ribcage, lungs constricting with uncertain pressure. A small wheeze escapes her lips, morphing into a bit of a moan, the sound soaked in a new sort of pain she hasn't felt before. 

Ace has felt enough pain for a lifetime- enough fear to drown in and somehow she has stayed afloat. But this letter from Bucky threatens every feeling she has ever swallowed. 

This is nothing like the feeling of betrayal that she came to know after she found out her blood family once served Hydra. It's not the feeling that of broken grief she processed after their death, or the hurt that came from each new form of abuse they threw her way. It's nothing like the way her stomach swam as she poured her heart out to her therapist, or the way her limbs went numb when she sent that first letter. 

This is heartache. For both of them. 

How could he ever think that she wasn't real; her most sincere self poured into each letter she sent him. The way she took time to collect and curate things to send Bucky, just so he could actually get the chance to know her, and he still manages to think that maybe she isn't real. 

How could she not be real?

But the way he begs to know her twists her thoughts like vines. The way the letters swoop cut into her like knives. There is an inkling of desperation that seems to drown her, the words constricting all of the air from her lungs. They burn- both the words and her lungs, in equal measure. 

He must know that she is real, he has to. You don't beg that way for someone you consider a threat, a tease, or a game. Hell, you don't beg at all. The way Bucky has poured his soul out is no where near begging or pleading.

That's the way one yearns. 

Too much hope and too much heartache- too much, far too much. 

That thought hits her like a ton of bricks, knocking what little breath she has flat out of her chest in a strangled wheeze. Ace is caught somewhere between hurt and pure reverence. Bucky cares for her in kind, the way she does with him, the notion, the understanding, now settling deep within her bones as she drags a ragged breath into her lungs. 

Ace shoves the paper back into the envelope, her movements a bit too harsh, crinkles and folds making new purchase on the page. Ace shoves it to the back of the pile, ripping open the next one. Little bits of paper fall from the torn edges, discarded on the floor as a single tear slips down her cheek; her world spinning around her as the tear marks down her face, her strength wavering.  Ace unfolds the paper, a singular piece of lined notebook paper, a couple of short paragraphs scribbled down in black ink. 

"Dear Ace, Dude, I am writing to tell you two things. Yes, I know I could have texted you, but what's the fun of that? First off, you should've seen Buck and Steve. They were at each others throats while also being as far apart as possible. 

They were definitely fighting over you, but I got it all taken care of. Steve somehow got it into Bucky's head that you could have been a terrorist or something, but I set them straight. Which brings us to the other thing, I let it spill that I came to meet you, and I think Bucky is jealous, so heads up! 

Talk to you later! - Sam

PS: Schedule me in for another shave and probably a haircut too, you're my go to hair guru now."

A cold snap runs through her bones, then red hot anger bubbles to life, snuffing out any remaining cold from her bones. Raspberry bruises paint themselves under her skin, scorching and weeping. All of the pieces are starting to fall into place. Bucky wouldn't have gotten that twisted idea into his mind on his own, even with the few letters they have exchanged, Ace knows that. 

She knows him. Hell, she know Sam too, and he wouldn't have let Buck concoct such a tail. 

The idea being ridiculous within itself, she could never be a terrorist, not when she is the kind of person who stresses about letting vegetables go bad in the bottom of her fridge. Terrorists don't care about the random head of broccoli in the bottom drawer, they have bigger things to worry about. But, Ace? She is definitely thinking about the broccoli; and the client who sneezed during their haircut causing her to nick their ear with her scissors. That incident happened two years ago and it still cycles through her brain. It all cycles through. 

She knows that she shouldn't be angry, hell, she doesn't blame Steve for wanting to look out for Bucky, she just hates the immediate distrust. Maybe it comes with the job, the predisposition to judge, to keep people at arms length. 

Trusting the people in front of you doesn't exactly work in a war zone, especially when you are the one who is running into fire first. Ace tries to shed the discomfort from her bones and the lingering anger that still pulses beneath her skin. 

Ace's eyes dart over the post script of the letter and a small chuckle manages to crawl out of her chest. She rolls her eyes, the notion feeling a bit silly as she pulls out her phone and writes a note to put Sam down in her books. 

She shifts the envelope to the back, the name on the next one stares back at her. 

Rogers. 

Her heart skips at the name, anger once again beginning to breathe through her. It nips at the spaces between her ribs and the cartilage that holds her her chest together. It aches as it moves through her veins, burning her up from the inside out. 

Maybe she shouldn't feel this way. Deep down she knows that Steve has always been protecting Bucky, after all, that's what heroes do- hell, that's what friends do. Yet, she can't help but to feel beyond hurt knowing that not only had Steve weaved this tail about her, but he hand fed it to Bucky. 

She doesn't even want to open it, the urge to tear it to shreds tingles through her palms, radiating down to her fingertips. Ace takes it between her fingers, the envelope crinkling as she moves to tear it in two.  

With a huff, Ace moves to tear it open instead of in half. She yanks the paper from the envelope, the anger thrumming throughout her body. 

"Y/N" The letter begins, catching Ace off guard. No one has ever used her name, not outright like that. To Bucky, she has always been 201, he rarely addresses her outright. A hello has always been enough for them. Sam gave her a nickname, one that she has come to hold close to her heart. No one has ever given her a nickname so freely before- let alone one that continues to be used. The nickname warms her from the inside out, the idea of having friends blooms inside her chest. 

"Y/N, Stay away from Bucky Barnes. He is fragile- still healing, and your presence in his life is going to hinder that. Do not write him anymore, and do not make me ask again. -Steve Rogers" 

Three fucking sentences. That's all it takes for Ace to crumble. 

The anger pours out of her in waves, wrecked sobs accompanying the hot tears that pour down her cheeks. The page is crinkled tight into her palm before she can let out the next shaky breath from her lungs. 

Within the minute she is out the door of her apartment, throwing herself into a taxi. The paper is still gripped tightly in her hand, the other letters buried in the pocket of her rain coat. As the cab meanders down the road, fat raindrops begin to fall. The pattering of the water on the windshield mixes with the streaking sound of the wiper blades, the chorus around her makes Ace's skin crawl as anger boils within her. 

The cab hits traffic about six blocks from the tower and Ace wriggles around in her seat. The anticipation causes her to shove money at the driver while she throws open the door. Mumbling a 'keep the change' Ace heads out into the storm, stomping her way through puddles towards the tower. 

Ace pulls out her phone, dialing Sam's number without a second thought. The droplets of water make her taps on the screen difficult for the device to read but the line begins to ring a moment later. The call waiting buzz drones over the line, ringing and ringing. She makes it half a block before she is met with his voicemail. 

"You've reached Sam Wilson, leave a message and I'll give you a call back." 

"Fuck" she curses, shoving her phone back into her pocket. She continues to let the anger guide her forward, her clutch on Steve's letter never letting up. By the time she arrives, her hair is drenched, sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Droplets of water stream down her face- it's unclear which are from the rain and which are from her puffy, red eyes. 

Ace leaves puddles in her wake as she stomps up to the front desk, a tight lipped smile spread across her cheeks in order to seem somewhat friendly. The man behind the front desk is barely awake, his face resting in the palm of his hand. His eyes are half lidded, staring at his computer screen. 

She stops a few feet from the desk, looking at the scene before her. She knows she should talk to him, that's the proper thing to do. It is literally this man's job to check people in and out of the building, but at this point she couldn't care less. The anger is clouding her judgement. So, she moves right, avoiding the desk all together, heading straight for the elevators. 

A women asks Ace what floor she is headed to without looking at her. Ace scans her eyes over the buttons, not sure which to pick. She drags her bottom lip between her teeth for a second.

"You are here for the gala, right?" The women questions her, shifting her gaze up to meet Ace's. Her expression shifts as she takes in Ace's dripping form, unable to hide her disgust. She checks her watch to fill the moments while she waits for Ace to respond. 

"Actually, I am here to cut Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers' hair. They usually comes to me, but asked me to make a house call," Ace chuckles a bit, holding up her bag, "But yes, for the gala." The lie she tells leaves her lips and she feels no remorse for it. 

Maybe it's the wrath that's taking up too much space in her chest to leave room for any other feelings or maybe she can lie if it's for Bucky, but either way she doesn't care. The air in the elevator is heavy with humidity but free of tension. 

The women hums out a sort of acknowledgement before pressing a button. They arrive to the floor a minute later and the women motions down the hall. 

"Check the gym," Is all she says before disappearing around a corner without another word. 

Ace pushes through a set of double doors, the gym smelling of sweat and bleach. The scent mingles in her chest with half breathes and pressure, her lungs sore from the sensation. Her hands are numb too, from both from the chill of the rain and from how hard she is gripping onto that fucking letter. White knuckles, tired lungs, and aggravation seems to be all she is in that moment. 

The gym is almost empty, a couple of lone agents packing up their things on the far side of the room. She is basically invisible as she drags her eyes around the room. Her breath catches when she catches Steve tucked away in the corner. He unwarps his hands, massaging out the tension in his hands that has built from his rounds at the punching bag. Steve brings a hand to his mouth, wrapping his lips around his split knuckle.

Without meaning to, Ace takes him in, every inch from his messy blond hair, seafoam eyes downturned and unbothered. The way he laps up the last bit of blood from his hand makes her stomach twist; she can almost taste the copper of the blood and it mixes with the bile that has begun to crawl up her throat at the sight of him. 

Steve pushes himself off the bench, standing to stretch out his worn out body. He wipes sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, his chiseled abs on display but Ace can't find it in her to care. Maybe if she wasn't so goddamn pissed of she would have looked, and maybe if she wasn't balancing on the blade between love and infatuation she would've enjoyed the view, but instead she takes this as her time to rush him. 

She stomps over, not caring about how loud her steps are or the trail of water she leaves behind her. The feeling of her palms pressed squarely against his frame where his shoulders meet his chest sends a fire through her, igniting a new layer of anger. She pushes him with all of her strength and he actually stumbles a bit. The unassuming women standing in front of him seething with anger, it's evident in her eyes, but before he can ask who she is or what she wants, her hands are on his body again, pushing him back, again and again. 

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" She screams at him, the words clawing themself out of her throat. The words catch him off guard, almost as much as her hands do. His brows furrow, confusion stitching them together. He wants to put up his hands, show that he isn't going to hurt her, but all he can manage to do is lock his gaze on her face. 

Steve takes in the puffiness of the bright red skin around her eyes. The dried remanence of tears crusted against her cheeks lead his gaze down to her lips. They are chapped over to the point where they look painful, and she is still yelling. She is yelling at him, words he hasn't bothered to listen to. 

"Steve Goddamn Rogers, America's fucking golden martyr," She continues to scream, "Always knows what's right," Her balled up fists connect with his chest, not enough power to hurt him but enough force to make a point. Her fists continue to connect to any part of his body that she can reach, his chest, arms, stomach. Her words  begin to get lost in her broken sobs. 

She drops the letter that has been clutched so tightly in her hands. It lands on the floor, a crumpled up ball- three sentences lost in wrinkles of paper. 

Ace lands a hit to his chest, breaking open her knuckles, the bright red leaking from her broken skin begins to coat over the plain of her fist. A few punches later, the skin on the other fist breaks open too. 

"How dare you!" She repeats over and over again, the syllables getting clumped together with choked out cries. "How fucking dare you!" 

The blood transfers from her hands to his body, the sight not registering with either of them. 

Steve just stands there and takes it, unsure of what to say or how to stop the abuse that wouldn't end up with her breaking down even further. He wants to grab her wrists, beg her to tell him what he did wrong and who she is, but all he can do is stand there as she begins to crumble completely at his feet. 

She is full on sobbing now, her face contorting. She attempts to rid her face of tears and snot with the backs of her hands but it only sort of works, leaving her face still smeared with wetness, streaked with pure crimson. 

The doors at the other side of the room swing open, Steve's eyes snap up from the woman in front of him to see Sam and Bucky walk in, chuckling to themselves. Ace doesn't notice, she is too busy shoving Steve again. Her palms flat against his body as she pushes, the blood now rushing towards her wrists. 

"Fuck you, Steve," She chokes out one more time, "Fuck you," Her voice is broken, scraping against her throat. Bile coats her tongue, the crying and yelling making her nauseous. 

Steve makes eye contact with Sam, pleading for some sort of help. Sam notices the woman, then notices the blood. It covers her hands, droplets painting the floor beneath them. There is blood on the letter too, but no one seems to notice it. 

Sam sends Bucky to get a first aid kit and the soldier disappears back through the door they came through. 

"What the hell is going on?!" Sam shouts a bit, coming over to aid Steve. He takes a few steps closer, moving to see the woman. When she finally turns her face to look at him, the mixture of fluid on her face, she peers up at him through her damp hair. He recognizes her instantly. 

"Ace?" He questions, holding his hands out to her. He wants to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, the sobs coming from her lips causes his heart to ache. "Ace, what's going on?" 

With his words, she collapses to the ground completely spent. She shakes with rage and ragged breathes. Through her tears, she picks up the letter, now dotted with blood. She tried to unwrinkled it, but the thought of seeing it again makes her body wrack with another hollow cry. Ace holds out a half balled up piece of paper in Sam's direction. He takes it carefully between his fingers, working it open the rest of the way. 

Sam drags his eyes over the words, "Y/N, Stay away from Bucky Barnes. He is fragile- still healing, and your presence in his life is going to hinder that. Do not write him anymore, and do not make me ask again. -Steve Rogers" The small paragraph awakens Sam's temper. He brings his eyes up to Steve, who is still standing in front of Ace, his back towards the wall. 

Sam's expression narrows, his features tight with enmity. "What the hell did you do?" Sam questions him, his eyes trained on Steve's own. 

Bucky walks in, first aid kit in hand. The sight before him causes him to stop. Steve stands with his hands up like he is pleading innocence. His blue eyes swim with guilt, easily read from across the room. 

Sam stands off to the side, a bloody piece of paper in his hand, the other fist balled tightly against his side. Sam is squeezing his fist so tight, the bones of his knuckles threaten to break through the whitened skin that is pulled so taught around them. 

Bucky's eyes drag down to the woman on the floor, her back to him. He watches as she runs her hands through her hair, her bloody hands shaking. He can hear he crying, attempting to stifle the sounds. 

Nobody has notice Bucky standing there- the woman focused on Sam, who is locked into a staring match with Steve. No one moves for what feels like ages. Finally, Sam speaks. 

"Steve, did you write this?" The look in Sam's eyes is nothing but pure challenge, "Did you threaten her?" 

Steve gulps out a quiet 'yes'. 

Sam straightens his posture out, squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw. He looks like he is about to step into a battle, but instead of running in behind Steve, his going up against him. 

"Do you really think that Bucky is so 'broken' that he can't have a nice girl like Ace as a pen pal?" Sam's voice holds no question at all, he already knows the answer, it's written plain as day in black ink in front of him. 

Steve mutters out another 'yes', eyes falling to the floor. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, like he is going to defend himself but cannot find the words. 

Without a warning, the first aid kit clatters to the floor and Bucky disappears through the doors once more. Ace and the two men turn just in time to see Bucky's fleeting form through the swinging door, getting further and further away. 

Finally, the door settles closed and Ace brings a hand up to cover her mouth. Steve can't pry his eyes off of the exit. 

"Now you've done it," Sam mutters, reaching down to pick Ace up in his arms. He carries her out of the room, leaving the mess of blood and Steve behind them. He couldn't care less- his main focus now on getting Ace's wounds cleaned and dressed. 

Steve is left standing in the thick air around him, his heart pounding against his chest. He is covered in blood and deserves to be. But the blood comes from the wrong source, instead of his own, he wears hers and somehow even through he never raised a hand to her, he can't help but feel like he was that small kid in Brooklyn again.

They always started the same way, a disagreement he met with words because he could never quite land a punch. They always ended the same way too, covered in blood, chest heaving and aching all at once. This time, though, Bucky wasn't there to save him, to throw the last punch, to end the damn fight. He can feel her blood beginning to crust over his skin, cracking and flaking away.

For the first time since the Winter Soldier, Bucky and Steve stand on opposite sides of the fight, and for the first time in this century, he knows one thing to be true: 

This is the fight he is going to lose. 

TAG LIST 

@vicmc624 @cjand10 @songoficecreamandfireworks @crazymusicgirl104 @stany0url0calwh0res111 @ladifreakingda @itsteambarnes

[asushin-mermaid-au-ask-blog]

You are one of my fellow Re-Take enjoyers. Would love to hear your opinions about it

Oh wow. This might be long. Sorry to the anon who sent to mermaid prompts last night tonight is talk about Re-Take day I guess.

Well I first read re-take right after watching EOE in high school and in that state it felt like the perfect fix-it fan fic. It was super shippy and seemed to keep the same sort of tone that Anno used in the later part of NGE. I love love loved it.

There are so many great plot ideas packed into what's only a three volume fan comic.

Instrumentality creates an entire multiverse because Shinji is unstable therefore all canon and fanon universes are real.

Shinji sees past Asuka's persona is still attracted to her maybe even more so.

You can cheat on sync tests by lowering your score.

Rei tries to become Asuka to get involved romantically with Shinji.

Shinji and Asuka try to get married at 14 because as Eva pilots they know they probably won't live to be adults.

Shinji becomes an angel, has all of Kaworu's powers and uses them to kill Kaworu who he thinks is still an angel but is an opposite Kaworu: an evil human who hates him.

Asuka feels betrayed by Shinji and jealous of other universe's Asuka who still loves Shinji

Said Asuka has become her like mother and actually tells Shinji 'die with me.'

Because Shinji is an angel his and Asuka's daughter is a supernatural being dedicated to getting her parents together. Like that's an entire fanfic itself and it only happens for like 10 pages.

And all of this is wrapped around in a fake time loop where Shinji tries and fails to act like some macho super Shinji that some fanboys want him to and it makes everything worse so he ends up going back to his usual self sacrificial self.

I have used all of these plots in rp and fan fiction sense and love them all so much.

That said. While I don't mind them in the context of Re-Take because it works well in context. Shinji and Asuka having as much mostly off screen sex as they did is pretty trashy and I honestly think if they did manage agree to have sex anytime close to canon they'd be too nervous to go through with it. I mean they are 14.

So while I love Re-Take and it is synonymous to me with the Eva fandom back in the late 2010s my fav fan fic now is probably Epilogue of Eva.

As you might have noticed 75 percent of my icons are either from Re-Take or Epilogue.

[uncomplicatedbookreviews]

All Systems Red

Author: Martha Wells

Series: Murderbot Diaries (#1)

My rating: 9/10 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Goodreads: 4.15/5

Date Read: Early 2022 and 2024

"I don't know what I want. I said that at some point, I think. But it isn't that, it's that I don't want anyone to tell me what I want or to make decisions for me." ---------------------------------

Plot Summary: On the surface, Muderbot is a SecUnit, a security android with no volition of it's own, sent to protect the humans that have bought a contract with the Company for a planetary expedition. Unbeknownst to its human client Murderbot has broken its governor module, giving it free will. Luckily for them all Murderbot wants to do is be left alone and watch trashy media shows. But when a mysterious force appears to threaten the safety of it's human charges, Murderbot must break its own rules to solve the mystery and save them all. Unfortunately, at the same time it must wrestle with the fact that it does in fact....have feelings. Yuck.

TL:DR: An incredibly fun, high energy science fiction novella. This book and the remaining in the series are the definition of comfort reads for me. The characters shine and Wells manages to create an in-depth scientific future in a short amount of time. If you're a fan of sarcastic, running internal dialogue of cynicism books with a lot of action this is definitely a book that you will want to check out.

Characters:

Murderbot - a SecUnit built for the sole purpose of protecting it's human clients. At. All. Costs. Including at times the cost of it's own life. This one however has broken from it's governor module giving it free will. It spends most of it's time hiding the fact that it's free by pretending to be a normal SecUnit while sneaking away to watch the human media show it is obsessed with and contemplating the ridiculousness of the humans it has to protect....and maybe care for a little bit.

Dr. Mensah - the leader of the Preservation Alliance and galactic entity that exists outside of the large Corporation Ring, Dr. Mensah is incredibly smart and is a trained scientist despite her current political position. She displays immense bravery in the face of danger and a strong moral compass that include human and bot life alike.

The Expedition Team - there are a ton of fantastic characters that accompany Dr. Mensah and Murderbot on this planet expedition. They're all scientists that have naive expectation of humanity thanks to the relative peace of their home system. They're all wonderful, but there's a lot of them so I won't list them here.

Thoughts and Feelings: This managed to become one of my favorite science fiction series in a single book. I fell in love with the sarcastic and cynical protagonist and the not too unbelievable future of a space community dictated almost entirely by captilistic companies that control everything. The writing style is very informal and defined almost entirely by Murderbot's internal dialogue which lends the book with a very unique tone and voice. Some people might not vibe with the method of storytelling or the constant running dialogue. I would say give this first book a try since it's a short read and if you don't enjoy it, the series as a whole is probably a pass because that is the style of all subsequent books.

Despite the prediction of the Corporate Rim's bleak existence this series manages to maintain a positive attitude as a whole as Murderbot begins to explore humanity and how it might survive the world as an individual rather than a background character. In this book in particular we get to know the positive and sometimes naive attitudes of the planetary expedition team that Murderbot is protecting. The group comes from a society outside of the Corporate Rim who have more individual freedoms and because of that represent the good that still exists in a sometimes dreary world. Good overcomes evil, but the evil still lurks around the corner.

[minseologs]

Otherside

TW// topics of suicide; grief. a work of fiction

Crisp and cold air awakens her the moment she stepped in Zurich. For once it felt cold, unlike other days where it never bothered her. She was traveling alone, much different than what she had been used to with help from her assistants. Her carry-on follows suit as she takes a train ride to Zermatt. It was convenient that she was knowledgeable in traveling, but she was never a big fan of traveling on her own. She liked to be with someone to make memories with.

The train ride was beautiful, to say the least. Fields of nature greeted her every minute along with vast plateaus of the Swiss Alps. There were plenty of animals who made an appearance, like the furry cows she thought she could only see in photographs. The same mountain was seen where she was staying and it's imperfect outline and snowy cap made it felt as though she was looking at a travel zine. The surrounding was traditional and modern all at once with buildings that favored much more to the Western taste. Minseo had always appreciated the thought of being able to afford the luxury of staying anywhere without worrying about the cost.

Adjusting to it's time changes, she takes out a small journal, it was already filled with a pen tucked where she stopped before.

Seoul

“Do you care to tell me as to why you’re suddenly changing your will?” The older woman asks, her professional attire was much more intimidating than Minseo’s. “The last time I had to do this with you was when your father died.”

“Just updating things. Consider it as something necessary because of my bounty.” Her fingers make quotation marks in the air, trying to ease the tension between them. She gulps from no response. “I check over it quarterly, this is a first I changed it—“

“Changing it to strangers.” She finishes, looking at her with stern eyes. “The only person I know from here is Woori, Wenhan, and Xian. The rest are strangers.."

She moves her things aside to make space for the said briefcase, the metal casing was promptly opened with too many manila folders and file cases taken out one by one in orderly conduct. From left to right, in order of importance. The first was personal assets she wished to organize. Next was a specific folder just for her business, and the last was a brochure about her situation with something she never thought to even try.

“So we’ve agreed that most of your personal assets, liquid and otherwise mentioned— including several houses in other cities— would go to Mr. Wenhan Li, is that correct?”

“Yes. Do confirm the Jeju Vacation house too.”

“I’d like to assert that there is a Siho, Jun, Chaz, Yohan and Sangmi here that are still in the 30% of financial affidavit however much you’ve left. A few specific connotation includes two vehicles be sent to Mr. Bohyun Ahn and Ms. Elena Hazuki.” She looks on the woman’s hand trailing words on the paper and nods on agreement. “Land was also invested for the use of Mr. And Mrs. Matteo Collin as well as Mr. Xian Liu, who will be obtaining your penthouse.“ the woman looks to her for confirmation and she lets her continue. “And you didn’t finalize Mr. Osias’ registry for the yatch. You’ve also indicated formal access of your apartments for Woori and her husband Xian.”

“Yes, finalize it.”

Her lawyer confirms with notes while she tried her best to keep focus but the brochure staring right in her face. The next file was introduced.

“Your position in Choi Resorts and Management will automatically be given to the next in hierarchy whomever the next vice president. Is this correct?”

Yes.

“Hyeseo Choi will be receiving a sum allowance of 5% once she is released.”

Yes.

Everything was being taken care of and it appeared nothing was being in question. She clears her throat.

“I didn’t receive a ‘provisional green light,” she picks up the brochure, from DIGNITAS. “They called me after a year. The medical records made it through the screening. But… It's rejected.” She chuckles, opening it with information inside. “Weariness of life won’t exactly fly with passing colors through the Swiss doctors— or so I’ve heard. They offered counseling though-”

“Perhaps that was a sign,” the woman appeared to have known Minseo for a good amount of time. “I wasn’t worried. You wouldn’t do it here, you won’t do it any other country. In any other case, it’s good you took some responsibility.”

“Do you find it ironic?” “You wouldn’t do it.” And if I did? Her voice barely has enough to emote her tone. It sounded as if she had given up completely, yet there was still some signs she wanted to continue even if it was the way it was. “I have the option to go through suicide and yet I’m target by some, if not many, by the underground’s most dangerous people. All for what? Power? Sounds unrealistic if you ask, we’re living in a completely different reality from the rest of the world. The other side won’t exactly answer all my problems, right? It’ll be a waste of ticket.”

“Your father have always told me a Choi never backs down. It shows in you.” The woman stays in her own standing, packing everything in her briefcase as a sign that she wishes to not continue their talk. A small amount of professionalism left her for a moment and she realized that. “I hope to see you again, Miss Choi.”

She purses her lips, nods promptly at the thought. “Thank you.”

Zermatt

Her grip strengthens with the pen, throwing it across the room. A sharp breath was drawn out of her, and she quickly closes the journal. Soft cries mewl between her lips as it begins to cave in again. Tucked in the sheets with her palms over her ears, she cries herself to sleep and wished everything had just disappeared, including herself.

-

Time had skipped over to noon as the rays catch heat by her arm. Her eyes swollen from the night before and could barely open them as she looks in the mirror. Minseo hadn't been taking care of herself, her cheeks began sinking along with the sockets of her eyes with it’s dark shadow— and it appeared as though she is much older than her age now. Her skin was translucent with veins peaking from places she’s never even thought of and her body even more sickly than her already thin frame. She holds herself over the sink to rethink everything because she wants to be better. She did. It took everything in her not to abide by the stress of not being able to walk out and face the world like everyone else.

It’s town was lively. It made her feel out of place. People offered food and handcrafted items. Even though it was still the feeling of winter, spring was creeping up just around the corner with the sun warming them up just enough. The smell was like fresh laundry, almost like someone continually cleaned their sheets.

She pulls herself together in order to have a good time. Her first plan was to visit what Jinwoo used to call "Toblerone Mountain". Like from the chocolate bar they always ate. Another train ride takes her closer to the Alps and it was breathtaking (literally). It took awhile for her to adjust to brightness of the snow as everything was white. As planned, she took a picture of everything to show her friends.

"Do you want a picture?" Another tourist offers, also equipped with the chocolate bar she held. "I can help!"

"Yes, please," she smiles for the first time in that trip. "Thank you."

Then, it was back to the village where she helped herself to a feast. Not worrying a single reprimanding of gaining weight and the pressure of looking proper in front of others. She wore whatever she wanted and had no care who checked on her. Minseo enjoyed every bit of what she could before she was reminded of what she truly came there for. Though the facility had rejected her initial wish, a message was given that they wish to see her, nonetheless. She looks at her phone with no regard for the email. Minseo could only reply briefly of it.

To: DIGNITAS

RE: Visitation

I've decided to contract my request to meet you all in the facility and will take in consideration about my medical needs in my home country. I've decided to come face to face with my loss and being a visitor here in Switzerland had made me accept. At this time, I'd like to send my regards to the counsel …

[delicatelymentallyunhealthy]

A couple weeks into highschool

September 16,2023,5:50 pm

It’s been about a week since I broke up with my gf and I’ve already started seeing a person. I always thought I was lesbian but he makes me question my sexuality. Yesterday at school during gaming club he took me to an area in the library and made me sit on his lap while he started to finger me..I was like ‘OMG!! Is this really happening!?’. He makes me so fucking wet..today while my mom and sister went out we went on a call and masturbated together..it was so fucking hot..we planned to meet up in the unisex bathrooms at anime club and we would do more..he said he would eat me out and finger me again..and then he wanted me to give him a bj..I am so excited and so nervous. I spend most of my time reading BL mangas, and fan-fictions so I’ve picked up on some techniques..so I hope I am able to please him!! This is my first time ever doing this with someone,  let alone a man. The closest I’ve done to sexual stuff is grinding and that was with another girl..I’m only 13,I have no idea how I’m supposed to think straight!? Everything he does just turns me on so much..but I’m so insecure about my body idk if I will be able to do it..I don’t even know if I will be able to make him feel good!! I just want Wednesday to happen so we can finally do it together. I know it’s wrong to do these things at such young ages but..he’s just too irresistible..I used to be so disgusted when thinking about having sex with a man but..he might be changing my mind..

September 17,2023,5:30 pm

Hey I didn’t have the energy to talk here in the morning but I have some news. Today I woke up and instantly started talking to my new boyfriend,Gabe and I made our picture my wallpaper!! But a couple days ago I accidentally sent a horny text abt how I was wet to my groupchat and now I’m being blackmailed..I was able to bribe him with money but idk how much money I will get when my mom pays me. Maybe I can talk to someone like a teacher or guard but yeah. This morning my mom also called me for wedding try on’s and I literally THREW UP!! But the whole story is that I started getting light headed and she didn’t believe me when I told her,then I told her that I was about to throw up and she grabbed me by my neck and forced me to sit down. 2 seconds later she made me get up,I was still light headed and about to throw up but she finally started taking it off. Once it was taken off I couldn’t hold it in any longer and I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Most of it got into the toilet but some got on the seat and walls and my mom had to clean it up. My boyfriend had some sort of memorial thingy going on so he had to go away and I still haven’t heard back from him..I made some ✨spicy✨ videos for him so maybe I can show it to him when he gets back. On a good note I actually got accepted into the musical “zombie prom” and I play the mother,secretary,and someone named Ramona. I really hope I can play these parts well and I’m already a sort of mother figure to some. I have ALSO managed to create my own harem. Almost EVERY boy in my school has some sort of crush on me. This is sorta my first time being the popular girl and not the try hard so this is a new territory for me.

[tech-girls]

Spotlight: Courtney Christensen

Each month we spotlight a woman or girl in tech who inspires us. This month we are highlighting Courtney Christensen. Courtney is a Senior Engineering Manager at Linden Lab in charge of the teams that build most of the web pieces for Second Life. She is also a long-time mentor with C4K and Tech-Girls. Courtney has this to say about her mentoring experiences - "How can you give back to your community, make the world a better place, and experience your own and another person's joy all at the same time? For me, by mentoring. My mentees are my ripples in the pond, they will help me make an even bigger difference than I ever could alone. Plus they are clever, awesome, funny people and it's fun to spend time with them."

What drives your interest in technology? I can't remember a time when I didn't want to know how things work. I didn't take apart the hairdryer or the alarm clock, but I constantly took apart pens. I drew things and tried to get closer to real life. I used tools and I read books and how-to guides. I also always played video games. Once I put together that I could program games, I was hooked. Now that I'm in tech, I still love solving puzzles, but I realize that technology permeates all aspects of our lives. I want to be helping build the things that power our modern world.

What do you remember about your first coding experience? My older brother sent us a family computer when I was in middle school. I thought I was such a hacker poking around at the DOS prompt loading shareware games and adding HTML to make my profile on a Jeopardy site sparkle. I bought an old BASIC programming book from the library book sale and taught myself from that leading up to my QBASIC class in high school. I loved telling a computer what to do and having it dance to my commands. It's still so much fun to get into a code puzzle.

What was your pathway to working in/studying technology? I have a fairly stereotypical path to technology. I wanted to play video games and take things apart. Then I learned to do some programming. That chose my college major, Computer Science. And I got a job in the field right out of college.

Why is it important to get more girls and women interested in technology? I've got a few different answers to this. My heart answer is that I love to be there to fan the flame of someone else's endorphin rush at discovery. Learning is so much fun and helping someone else to learn is amazing. The corporate answer is that women are half or more of the target audience, getting women and girls into designing the products you're trying to sell them makes better products. Women on teams makes better teams, but women designing a product for women means you won't have the pitfalls like VR controllers being too big for typically smaller hands or cellphones that can't fit my face!

Who inspires you to pursue your passion? I really like some of the stories of dangerous women from history. Grace Hopper and Ada Lovelace have been great inspirations for me. But today, I've got female CTOs at big companies to look up to. And closer to me, I've got female friends in technology leadership like Ann Lewis. It might be coming to mind because it's Mother's Day as I answer this question, but my mom has always encouraged what she calls my "science brain".

What most excites you about the future of technology? We're making science fiction into science fact daily. I'm most excited about tech that makes the world a better place.

What advice would you give to your younger self? I would tell my early career self to change technology sectors and be intentional with your job choices so you don't get typecast. This might be on me and in my own brain, but after 2 jobs in web development, I got labeled "web developer" instead of just "software developer". I would also pursue dreams before you get used to your salary! And make sure to keep learning, don't let yourself get comfortable at being an expert at one thing because times change, technologies move on, and learning new things is a skill that can dull with lack of use.

[thesconesyard]

Hiy~ =)

So, I'd like to send you a ⭐free pass to rant⭐. Also... I'm going to admit that I haven't read anything of only yours. Although your stories were recommended to me (I think we can guess by whom?), it fell onto the list of things I truly meant to do but never found time for.

But I remember hearing some wonderful things about your "Prompt-ly Yours" series, so I'd like to ask you about that one~ 🌈🌠

Not me looking around like mad, all “omg! Someone’s asking! Act normal! Act NORMAL!”

Ok, ok, ok.

I’ll do the Prompt-ly Yours, then a free for all. (Oh no, I can already feel myself getting ready for a ramble…)

So Prompt-ly Yours was my return to writing and my return to fan fiction. And mostly importantly, the first story in forever (possibly ever!) that actually had an ending. I’d been dancing around with the idea of McCoy and Scotty in a story, but never quite hit on what until I saw a list of sentences prompts and really the first five or six on the list felt like they told a story on their own. Then it became a challenge to myself to write something coherent and use all 100(!) sentence prompts on the list.

And I managed it! And it made sense! And, most of all, coming back to writing made me happy!!

Ok, so little things about it. Dr. Barrolds is named for a joke between hubs and I, in hopes he would read it that far and get a laugh (he didn’t.) One of my favorite moments in the story is probably when they tell each other they love each other the first time. Another fave is the last scene when Scotty ruins the moment interrupting McCoy, but was about to do the same thing. And, poor Chekov, but when he and Sulu get an earful and have to share breakfast with Scones the next morning. Chekov’s extreme reluctance to look at them, McCoy and Sulu’s joint embarrassment and Scotty’s total nonchalance kill me every time.

And free pass!

Boaty McBoatstory was a placeholder name that stuck. It also contains another joke for hubs that he’s never read.

A Home with a Hearth was originally going to be a stand alone, and then as I began thinking and plotting out Wherever You Are, I Am, I realized it fit as part of the Prompt-verse and I’m honestly looking forward to when I get to where it fits in.

I was super nervous when I wrote Forgiveness, and it wasn’t honestly going to be a smut when I started it! But then one thing led to another and well 🤷🏻‍♀️ Would I write another? Maybe. If people were interested but I don’t know if I could do as good a job. I kind of prefer bringing the stories right up to the moment and letting the reader picture what happens.

Cor Lapideum is probably a lot cheesy, but I gave it all my sweetness.

One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Temporal Anomaly is entirely because I wanted aos McCoy to be surprised by tos McCoy saying the line “you’ve haven’t married’em yet?”

A lot of my stories circle around one dumb idea lol.

Prior to writing Scones stories, an old high school friend and I (in hs) wrote a pair of back to back tales where we walked through some kind of portal and ended up in Star Wars (she wrote it. She was Luke and I was Han. Genderbent too.) The second story sent us to Lord of the Rings as Frodo (me) and Aragorn (her.) Mark Hamill made an appearance stealing our gray portal home. The series was supposed to continue into the Thrawn trilogy and the Hobbit, but we got lazy. (And busy! Jobs and school!)

My next big fandom story (don’t laugh!) was Monty Python adjacent about a girl who somehow goes back in time to 1968 and gets a job at the BBC for a mad genius writer. The characters were all original, but based of the different pythons. Russell Andrews and Ruby Fontana, my dearest, beloved OCs.

Ok…. I probably wrote waaaay more than necessary. Whoops. Anyone wants to know more feel free to ask. Maybe someday I might even post some Ruby Fontana if anyone’s interested (It’s cool if not.)

Thank you for the ask @l0vel3ss-l1nds3y 💙❤️❤️💙❤️💙

[cyberexo]

FAR, FAR AWAY | Kim Minseok x Fem Reader

"his eyes sparkled as though god had taken a constellation of stars and placed them within his beautiful orbs"

you can also find this fan-fiction on wattpad under the username @mrkswrld

word count: 877

･ﾟ14

You stared at the message in dread, how could I be so stupid?!, pacing back and fourth in your home, you could feel the sweat starting to pool under your arms and pour down from your temples, you've been like this for a good two hours now, your heart was racing, your nail beds ached from biting down on them so much.

Kim Minseok

Yesterday, 16:45

Hey! is this Y/N from highschool?

You read it more times than you could count, your dog was confused as to why you were pacing around so much, the sound of his barking filled the house, it was like he could sense that something was wrong, but you were growing tired of the high pitched barks quite quickly.

"Shut up will you!" you ran your hands through your hair not knowing what to do, do you respond? delete the message and pretend it was never there? act like you weren't who he was claiming you to be even though you were exactly that person. "God I wish I was in the city right now, so a car could run me over!" you puffed out, throwing yourself onto your soft couch, sinking into it, it was as if the comfort of the inanimate object was what you needed for the idea that just popped into your head.

Call Sarah! she was the perfect person to talk to, well- she was the only person you could talk to. It was either her or replying back to Minseok and asking HIM for advice instead, the thought of even sending a mere hello back to him made you cringe. No. No way. You'd rather die than expose yourself like that- who knows what questions he'd start asking or worse! a union.

Dread filled you, you couldn't even begin to wrap your head around the countless possible scenarios, it was starting to give you a headache, as if it hadn't already been aching since this morning. Frantically, you picked up the landline phone, punching in the motels number, hoping Sarah would still be behind the desk filing her nails waiting for some entertainment.

"Hell-"

"Sarah!? oh my god Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sa-" "Oh my god Y/N, Shut up! what's wrong?" "I made a big mistake," you blurted out, smacking your hand onto your mouth, somehow the reality of the situation sinking in even more, it was like you were realising what happened all over again, which caused nothing but a fresh wave of stress and sweat.

Gross.

"You making a mistake in the middle of nowhere could either mean there's a bear in your house or you just killed a man," Sarah filled the silence, her tone half serious. Still not knowing what to say, you stayed quiet trying to form the right words in your head- "Oh my god did you kill somebody Y/N?!" She shrieked over the phone, making your pull the landline away from your ears. However, you were quick to interject, the words finally finding their way out of your mouth.

"No I didn't! it's just that there's this guy, I used to go to highschool with him. For some reason I was curious and looked him up on Facebook before I decided to stupidly settle for a nap not knowing I accidentally sent him a friend request.. so much for being under the radar- and to make matters worse, he messaged me! asking me if I was the same Y/N from highschool.. andiusedtoreallylikehim." You said that part too quick for anyone to catch but nothing was too quick for Sarahs' witty ears.

"You have got to be kidding me"

･ﾟmini time-skip

There you were sat on the edge of your bed, phone in your hand, still staring at the screen hoping it would just evaporate alongside this entire ridiculous situation you managed to get yourself in.

It made you feel like you were back in highschool again, no adults land themselves in pathetic situations as such. The talk you had with Sarah was far from helpful, she was telling you everything you needed to hear not what you wanted to hear, but you knew she only meant well and didn't want you to get all twisted up in a delusion that was nowhere near realistic.

You tried wasting as much time as possible since then, cleaning the house even though it was already clean, cooking, eating, cleaning, taking your dog out for a walk- the light of day seemed never ending, like mother nature was making fun of you, and now you really had nothing to do, your hands and feet were worn out and tired, you could barely hold the phone in your hand.

Finally you took a deep breath, bringing the dimmed screen closer to your face, swiping up on your keyboard & started typing out a reply, almost a decade away from humanity, you'd be lying if you said you didn't forget how to act.

After typing and going back and deleting for a couple of dreadfully long minutes you decided to play it safe and take back control of the situation.

Kim Minseok

Yesterday, 16:45

Hey! is this Y/N from highschool?

Today

Do I know you?

delivered 22:22

chapter 15

[dankusner]

“The Zone of Interest” Is an Extreme Form of Holokitsch

Jonathan Glazer’s drama, set among the Nazis who ran Auschwitz, turns the horrors of the Holocaust into scenes from a marriage.

A scene from Jonathan Glazer’s film “The Zone of Interest.”Photograph courtesy A24

With movies that are based on books, there’s no inherent merit in either fidelity or infidelity. What matters is the sense of freedom, of using a book to one’s own purposes. That’s the best thing about “The Zone of Interest,” the writer and director Jonathan Glazer’s adaptation of Martin Amis’s 2014 novel of the same title. Glazer transforms it drastically and makes it feel almost entirely like his own creation.  The novel is narrated by way of the characters’ monologues, and they’re mostly shtick-laden, performative voices—Amis’s novel plays largely like a variation on “Portnoy’s Complaint” with its prime complainants being fictionalized Nazis who run Auschwitz. I’m not a fan of the book, which strikes me as a near-parody of the Holocaust, with torrentially erotic eruptions of lust, jealousy, and absurdity applied to the sordid private lives of fictitious Nazi officials and mass murderers. (It also prominently features one Jewish character, Szmul, the leader of the Sonderkommando—Jewish inmates under orders to do much of the physical labor involved in mass murder, such as shaving hair, guiding captives to gas chambers, and shovelling out the ashes. Szmul’s voice, though written briefly and thinly, is lent a moving earnestness, but his destiny is the stuff of pulp fiction.)

Glazer’s film distills and transforms the novel’s premise into an altogether different story and tone. It’s a sort of narrowly bordered bio-pic, centered on the real-life Höss family: Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel), a longtime Nazi and S.S. member who was one of the commandants of Auschwitz; his wife, Hedwig (Sandra Hüller), nicknamed Hedy; and their three daughters and two sons, ranging from an adolescent to an infant. They live in a gracefully appointed house just outside the walls of the death camp; the property abuts the walls, which, with their curved barbed-wire stanchions, are instantly recognizable. They live a largely ordinary family life: they picnic by the river, Hedy tends her garden, the children go to school; there are birthday celebrations and social gatherings. But some details stand out. Hedy does her “shopping” for clothing, cosmetics, and jewelry from among items confiscated from deportees.

(One friend found a diamond in a confiscated tube of toothpaste, declaring, “They are very clever.”)

On a river swim, Rudolf finds something in the water that makes him rush his children home and scrub them and himself thoroughly.

The ambient soundtrack of daily life is the barking of dogs, the shouts of officers, the screams of captive victims, gunshots, and the roar and smoke of crematoria.

(As Rudolf and one of his sons ride on horseback through nearby fields, amid yelling as prisoners are driven through the area, the son calls attention to the sound: “Do you hear that? . . . A bittern. A heron. A Eurasian gray heron.”)

The movie’s prime drama is the conflict between professional life and family happiness. Höss, considered a good manager, is promoted to a higher position and sent to the German town of Oranienburg (the site of the Sachsenhausen concentration camp). But Hedwig, who is happy in the Auschwitz house and in its surrounding rural landscape, pressures Rudolf to beg his superiors to let her and the children continue to live there in his absence. The unhappy Höss bids farewell to his horse (yes, to his horse: “I love you; I love you, my beauty”) and to Hedwig. He heads to Germany, alone, where he’s part of the beau monde but takes no pleasure in it, reporting to Hedy by phone that he hardly noticed all the aristocrats and notables at a fancy-dress ball because he was too busy imagining the trouble he’d have gassing everyone in the high-ceilinged room.

If this sounds borderline hilarious, it should, because the movie is an extreme form of Holokitsch; it’s this year’s “Jojo Rabbit.” Glazer’s movie is a presentation of nearly unfathomable horrors by way of bathos, alluding to enormities in the form of minor daily inconveniences. There’s conceptual audacity in the effort, yet Glazer doesn’t display the courage or the intellectual rigor to pull it off successfully; if he did, he’d have centered the movie strictly on Hedy’s and the children’s experiences and points of view, noting the hints and traces of the death camp in and near the house and amid the landscape. The movie would have shown Rudolf and his activities solely through their eyes, thus making their surmises and their doubts, or their willful indifferences, all the more conspicuous—the movie wouldn’t have noted any more details of the horrors than they did.

Instead, much of the movie follows Rudolf, not just in his family life but also in his daily business—but only so far. Rudolf sees and knows everything that goes on in Auschwitz and in the death camps over all, but Glazer shows him only involved in bureaucratic activities. He reviews plans for a circular crematorium that can operate continuously. He attends a meeting of concentration-camp directors who are exhorted to furnish workers for German factories, while also being prepared to receive—and, for the most part, exterminate—the many Hungarian Jews who are about to be deported from their homeland (as actually happened, in 1944). Rudolf is an eyewitness to the atrocities relentlessly perpetrated under his command within the walls of Auschwitz, but Glazer dispenses with the problem of dramatizing or representing—or even describing—them. In the process, he shrinks from portraying the horrors of the real-life Höss’s character, too, and, as a result, he trivializes them.

Glazer’s diminution of the perpetrators themselves is a cinematic reinforcement of Hannah Arendt’s notion of the banality of evil: of deportation and extermination as the product of the numbingly mindless routine of the bureaucratic mind. But just as Adolf Eichmann is now understood to have been no mere paper-pusher but a rabid antisemite who took to his death-dealing duties with enthusiasm, Höss wasn’t just a skillful technocrat—he was a longtime Nazi true believer, going back to the nineteen-twenties with decades of blood on his hands. (Amis at least gets that straight, albeit cloaking it in antic language.) There’s no room for rabidness in the movie, however, no ideological talk or overt hatred. There’s also no room for the victims: prisoners, serving as forced laborers, appear around the house throughout the film, but silently. They’re given neither any voice nor any point of view.

Still, Glazer wants to stress that the banalities in question are no mere banalities; they’re grim and grave. Unlike pretty much any other movie that opens with a family picnic in a charming riverside landscape, the movie begins with more than two minutes of a black screen, accompanied by music (by Mica Levi) so bleak that it makes Mahler’s Ninth sound like Carl Stalling. In other words, before the first dramatic image, Glazer has essentially proclaimed the movie’s deep seriousness, and his own. Lest any viewer get too lost in the bright-green weeds of the Höss family’s daily routines, Glazer punctuates the movie with hallucinatory sequences, with eerily expressionistic black-and-white, night-vision thermal images, featuring music like sepulchral belches from the Earth’s depths. In these scenes, a girl goes on solitary and secretive routines of gathering (seemingly where bodies are buried) and of depositing (of apples beside shovels where inmates likely do forced labor). At one point, an image of smoke whites out the screen; at another, closeups of flowers, accompanied on the soundtrack by horrible yelling and screaming, fade to an all-blood-red screen.

By gussying up such sequences as cinematic emergencies rather than as regular rounds like those of the rest of the film, Glazer again and again emphasizes that the film’s apparent ordinariness is faux—that these daily lives are indeed extraordinary and horrific, elements of a historic tragedy. Yet his blatant exertion to get that point across suggests a lack of confidence that viewers will get the point from the drama alone—and a fear that his dramatic choices indeed risk diminishing those horrors. The filmmaker appears to want it both ways—to make subtle allusions that are given meaning by vehement jolts, to avoid specifics while pounding out generalized emotions.

There are moments that suggest an earnest and substantial inspiration that, however, remains largely undeveloped. A girl appears to have found a folded-up sheet of lyrics, titled “Sunbeams,” by the real-life Auschwitz inmate and survivor Joseph Wulf; she plays the piano, as if inwardly setting it to her music, as its words appear onscreen in subtitles.

(Did she scavenge the poem in her black-and-white, night-vision wanderings? The physical practicality behind such a moment is exactly the sort of exalted ordinariness that virtually cries out for a straightforward, dramatically direct and detailed approach.) There’s a character who casually opens an abyss of a backstory: Hedwig’s mother, Linna Hensel (Imogen Kogge), while walking with Hedwig in the family garden beside the death camp’s wall, wonders out loud, “Maybe Esther Silberman is over there . . . the one I used to clean for.” (But then Glazer lays it on thick, with Linna’s complaint that she was “outbid” for Esther’s curtains.)

Glazer’s purely external depiction of Auschwitz—its outer walls only—is of a piece with his reconstruction of life in its vicinity: he keeps his hands clean.

He models his vision of the Höss family circle, and of the Holocaust, on his own formidable artistic dignity.  The movie ends, pardon my spoiler, at the current-day museum that is Auschwitz. Glazer films employees cleaning inside a former gas chamber and in the halls and corridors where piles of shoes, crutches and other medical devices, and uniforms of inmates are on display. He seems to suggest that there’s such a thing as the banality of good, too, yet it remains similarly muted and abstract. He doesn’t deign to hear what the workers have to say.

An earlier version of this article misidentified a female character in two scenes of the film.