#reflected on-screen when he wore the wigs

[heartlessfujoshi]

flufftober day 25 - reylo 'between the stars'

Title: Between the Stars Chapter: 5 of 6 Fandom: Star Wars Pairing: Reylo (Ben Solo x Rey) Rating: Teen (Modern AU - Slow Burn - Flirting - Tooth-Rotting Fluff - First Kiss - First Date - Sleepover - Introduction to Friends - Mild Angst - Panic Attacks) WordCount: ~2,890 Prompt: Nook

Read: Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

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Fixing the wig on his head, Ben stared back at his reflection and couldn’t believe what he saw there. First off, having blond hair was weird. He wasn’t sure he liked how he looked with it. He’s always had dark hair, and it was quite the shock when he’d first put on the wig to complete his transformation into Jareth for Hux’s Halloween soiree. The second shock was the make-up he was wearing. Did he watch a YouTube make-up tutorial specifically for Jareth’s make-up for the ballroom? Yes, he did. And he would be the first to admit that it looked pretty spot on, considering he’d never applied make-up before tonight. 

The blue waistcoat with tails wasn’t as bedazzled as Jareth’s was in the movie, but it was fine. It was passable. Anyone who had seen the movie, or at least a picture of David Bowie in the movie would think that it would be a good costume. Ben had it buttoned, the ruffles from his button up shirt sitting right where they should. He bought a costume jewelry necklace to complete the outfit. He had on his black riding boots, which he hadn’t worn in years. Thankfully they still fit, as his feet stopped growing when he was fifteen. 

His black trousers were much more constricting than how he would normally wear them. It was fine. They were tight on Bowie, so they would be tight on him. All in all, he had to admit that he made a pretty good Jareth. 

A text came through on his phone. “Lyft is showing I’ll be there in two. Are you ready? Can’t wait to see you. :)” Rey’s text came up on his screen. 

Picking up his phone, he typed a reply. “I will be outside waiting. I hope you will like it. Looking forward to seeing you too :)” He saw her heart react to his reply, and then stuck his phone into his inside coat pocket. He had no pockets on his pants, as they were too tight. Luckily, they were going to a party that wouldn’t require any sort of monetary necessities. He would be fine for the night without his wallet. 

He took one last look in the mirror, shaking his head as he walked away, still unsure of how he looked as a blond. He hoped that Rey wouldn’t be too horrified by it. Hopefully she would compliment him. Oh, no. This was a terrible mistake. 

But it was too late. He left his house, which would be the first time that Rey would be seeing it. They had discussed going to the party together, but Rey wanted to make sure if they were to be drinking, to do it safely. Ben didn’t have the heart to tell her he didn’t really care for alcohol, or any other mind altering substance, and had agreed that sharing a Lyft there would be the smartest thing to do. Plus, it would save them the headache of having to find a parking spot. 

A car he didn’t recognize pulled up to his driveway. In the back he could see somewhere wearing white, which was good enough for him. He approached the opposite side of the car from where he could see Rey was sitting, and opened the back passenger door. “Good evening, sir.” The Lyft driver greeted him. 

“Ben!” Rey squealed, bouncing up and down next to him. He saw that she was dressed in a beautiful white ball gown. It wasn’t as poofy as the one that Sarah wore in the movie, but putting the two of them next to each other, it would be impossible to not see what their outfits were trying to do. “You look amazing! That wig is great!” 

Reaching up, he touched some of the fake hair. “Do you think so? I was a bit worried it looked awful.” 

“You two kids look great.” Their driver pulled away from the curb. “Halloween party?” 

Rey nodded her head. “Yes! Can you tell what we are?” 

“Labyrinth?”

Ben smiled as Rey nodded her head with enthusiasm. “That’s correct. See, Ben? They’ll know what we’re doing.” She reached for his hand, and brought it up to her lips to kiss the back of it. “I can’t get over how you look. Are you….” She squinted at him as she turned towards him. “Are you wearing makeup??” 

“Of course.” He smirked, resting her hand on top of his thigh as he looked forward out the windshield. “I think it’s a necessary part of the outfit.” 

“How am I going to kiss you if you’re wearing makeup?” 

Ben laughed. “Rey, you’re not going to be kissing my eyes, are you?” 

“Okay, you have a point there.” 

He smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed now that Rey was next to him. He wasn’t really someone that went out of his way to go to a party like this, but since Rey and her two best friends were going to be there, it was less scary for him. He knew that even if he was having a bad time, Rey would follow his lead and go home with him. But he wasn’t planning on leaving early. No, he’d been looking forward to this party all week. 

Their driver pulled up to the address that Rey had given to him. “Here you two kids go. Have fun tonight. Thanks for being responsible.” He pointed to a box on the floor. “Feel free to take some candy if you want.” 

“Thank you.” Ben declined the offer, as he exited out of the vehicle. He held his hand out towards Rey, who took it, allowing him to help her out of the car. Once she was out, he closed the door and waved the driver off, while looking at her. “You look gorgeous, Rey.” 

She spun around, twirling her dress for him to see. “This is the most extravagant costume I’ve ever worn to one of these parties.” Rey curtseyed towards him, which had him bowing towards her. “It isn’t too much, is it?” 

“No.” He offered her his arm, which she took. “What time were Poe and Finn coming tonight?” 

“They should be here.” She led him towards the side of the house, where the entrance to the party was. “Let’s go find them?” 

“Sounds like a good plan, sweetheart.” 

The backyard was huge. There was a full sized pool towards the back, while there was ample room for a dance floor, as well as a stage where an orchestra was playing. Ben stared in awe, surprised by how opulent this event was. He was expecting a Halloween party - not an actual ball. Couples were dressed in a variety of costumes - some were elaborate like his and Rey’s costumes, while others had been purchased last minute. Or very close to it. But it was nice to see everyone in the holiday spirit. 

“Ben!” He turned his head and saw Poe waving his hand at him. He tapped the person standing next to him, which was his boyfriend, Finn. Both were dressed up in costumes that made Ben laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Rey asked, as she returned to his side after going to grab them some ghoul juice - a mixture of lemonade and sprite. 

He took the red cup from her hand. “Your friends have picked a very unique costume.” 

“Did they now?” She turned to look, but failed to see them as they were approaching from behind her. “Where the heck are they?” 

“Hi, Rey.” Finn’s voice made Rey yelp in surprise, which made Ben laugh. “You two look amazing!” 

Ben turned to Poe, who was coming over to him. “Nice look, Indy.” Poe was wearing a leather jacket, with tan pants, and a whip at his side. 

“I’ll have you know that I am Chip from Chip and Dale’s Rescue Rangers, thank you very much.” Poe puffed his chest out, lifting his chin in triumph. 

He raised his eyebrow up. “So that means Finn isn’t Magnum P.I.?” 

“Nope. I am Dale.” 

“You know they’re brothers, right?” Ben asked. 

Poe and Finn laughed. “Yes, we know. And it’s nothing gross like that, so get that out of your head.” Finn wagged his finger at Ben. “We thought it would be an easy costume.” 

“It is.” Rey was now resting against his side. Without thinking about it, he lifted his arm and draped it around her shoulder. She fit so perfectly against him. “I like the Hawaiian shirt. Reminds me of TJ’s.” 

“Rey!” Finn groaned. “I don’t work at a grocery store.” 

“I know!” Her laughter brought a smile to Ben’s face. “I just said it looked like it. Not that it was a shirt from there.” 

Poe shook his head. “You guys look really great. Have you taken a picture inside yet?” 

“Is it set up again?” Rey asked, Ben curious as to what they were discussing. “I figured he wasn’t going to bring it back again after what happened last year.” 

“It’s there. And you can pick up any prop you want, but you have to return it.” Finn rolled his eyes. “As if we’d walk out of here with something like that.” 

Rey grabbed onto Ben’s hand. “Come on, Ben. Let’s go see.” 

“Where are we going?” He waved goodbye to Finn and Poe, who were heading over to the table where there was a plethora of things to eat. 

“You’ll see!” 

There was a line inside for something, which was what Rey wanted to do, so they got in line together. He kept her close as people walking by complimented them on their costumes, feeling a little overwhelmed by all of these strangers. But with Rey by his side, he found it much easier to tolerate than he would have if he had been alone. 

They came to the front of the line, and in front of them was a photobooth. Ben raised his eyebrow up as Rey began to go over to the table where there were items they could use in their pictures. “How about we use these?” She held up two domino masks stuck on sticks. “Or is that too cheesy?” 

“I think it’s perfect.” He took one of the domino masks, and then looked at the taped ‘X’ on the floor. “Would you like to use any others?” 

“No, I think this will do.” Rey’s brilliant smile brightened the room. He nodded, and then walked with her over to where they were supposed to stand. “We’ll take a nice one, a silly one, one with the mask, and then you choose?” 

“Alright.” 

He held her close as they stared at the camera, Rey pushing the button for it to start. As the time counted down, Ben kept a small smile on his lips, as he wanted her to be happy with how he looked. The second picture that they took, Rey had decided she was going to make a silly face, so he joined her with one of his own. The third, they held up their props and stared at the camera, both leaning forward with wide grins on their faces. For the final picture, he pulled her close to him, and then carefully dipped her backwards. Her peals of laughter made him laugh, and he could hear the photo being snapped as it happened. 

Lifting her back up, they moved to where the pictures were being printed. Rey held up her strip, and Ben felt his chest growing warm as he saw her smile. “Oh, Ben. These are perfect.” She held it up for him to see. 

“You’re perfect.” He told her, as his eyes were drawn to her beautiful face in each picture. 

Rey gave him a quick tour of the first floor of Hux’s house. The upstairs floors were off-limits, which was fine. There was plenty of space inside and outside to congregate without it feeling too suffocating. But as Ben was thinking that, he felt a mild anxiety attack begin to happen to him. Looking around, he tried to find a place that wouldn’t be too noticeable if he were to have a minor meltdown, and found what he was looking for around the corner. 

Grabbing onto Rey’s hand, he pulled her with him. He could hear her confused questions, but couldn’t answer as he was trying to maintain a calmness that he wasn’t feeling at all inside of his head. As soon as they got to where he saw, he felt the panic start to subside. Taking a quick look around, he saw no one paying them any mind as he pulled her into the small nook, away from everyone and everything. 

“Ben, what’s the matter?” Concern was evident in Rey’s voice, as she placed both of her hands on his face. “Talk to me, babe. What’s going on?” 

“P-Panic.” He stuttered, feeling a bit on the helpless side at the moment. But the touch of her hands was grounding him in a way he’d never experienced before, and held onto that feeling. He placed his large hands over hers, not wanting her to pull them away from him too suddenly. 

Her forehead touched his, as he hadn’t been aware he was leaning down to be closer to her. “I’m here, Ben. Breathe through it. It’s okay. No one is here. Only you and me.” 

“Us.” Ben closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His heart rate was already subsiding to a more normal beating pattern, the panic slowly disappearing further. Rey’s cool hands stayed on his cheeks as she took a few deep breaths. Without realizing it, he followed her breathing pattern, calming himself by her presence alone. “Love you” He whispered, the words slipping out of his mouth. 

A soft gasp left her mouth, and then he felt her lips touching his with a delicate kiss. “No fair. I wanted to tell you first.” Rey whispered against his lips before kissing him again. “I love you too.” 

He realized what she’d said only a few seconds after realizing he’d said it first. He expected the panic to return, as the last person he’d ever confessed his feelings to had laughed in his face, and had made him feel like a complete fool. But Rey hadn’t done that. No, she had kissed him, and returned the sentiments of love, which he could feel surrounding them. 

His hands dropped, his arms now enveloping her to his body, as their mouths returned together for another deep kiss. Pulling back, he returned his forehead to hers and took a deep breath. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” She asked, as he felt her lower herself back down onto her feet. “I didn’t do anything.” 

“You did everything, sweetheart.” He couldn’t help but smile, as he stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry that I had an attack.” 

“You never have to apologize for something you cannot control.” Rey held onto both of his hands, the two of them staying close as the space called for it. The nook was private and perfect, and it was what Ben had needed to escape the party. “Are you okay now?” 

“I think so.” Ben nodded his head. “A little giddy, but that might be because of what you said.” 

“What I said? What about what you said.” She teased him, and then kissed him again on the lips. “Come on - we can go soon. Let’s go say hello to the host, and then goodbye to our friends?” 

He didn’t miss how she had addressed Finn and Poe as their friends. Ben could only nod his head, as he was overcome with emotion. Rey led him to where Armitage liked to spend his parties, introducing him to the host. All Ben remembered was shaking his hand, and then found himself outside with both Finn and Poe, who were now looking at Rey’s photobooth pictures. 

“You guys look so happy.” Finn smiled, as he handed the strip back to Rey. “And you’re leaving now, aren’t you?” 

“We are.” Rey nodded. “I’ve got a bit of a headache.” 

Ben knew that wasn’t true. But he didn’t bother to clue them into her white lie, as he arranged for a Lyft to pick them up. They said their goodbyes after taking a few group pictures together thanks to some random stranger, and then left the party to go and grab their Lyft back to his place. 

He helped her out of her ballgown in his bedroom, after they had decided she would spend the night here, as it was very late. His wig came off easily, as did the crown of jewels Rey had put into her own hair. Her fingers took care of the delicate buttons on his ruffle shirt, and then the two of them were falling into bed together, kissing and holding each other like two lovers would do. 

“I love you.” Rey whispered into his ear, after he thought she had fallen asleep. 

Smiling, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you too, Rey.” 

She soon began to snore against his arm, which made him smile. This was definitely a party he would never forget, as it would always be remembered as the place where he hadn’t been afraid to share his feelings with Rey. 

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Cross-posted to AO3

[iamanartichoke]

Rumor is that filming on Loki season 2 has started, so ... uh, do we know the status of Tom's hair vs. wig, or ???

[sanstropfremir]

would love to hear ur thoughts re. these street woman fighter's performances and who you would personally vote as the "better dance crew" in how they interpreted each other choreos and the song.

this was for their first elimination round (ep4) and it was interesting to hear from the judges + why they gave the points they did. (i'm not entirely sure if you're watching the show's episodes. they are roughly 2 hours long. so if you would like more context, pls let me know! i wrote brief comments underneath each one as well as the winners [spoilers ahead!]. assuming you are not: for this mission, each crew is paired with another crew and they have to choreograph one of the soloist songs. songs were "split" into two parts: part one [would be one song] and part two [another song]; one crew would choreograph one part and follow the other's crew choreograph for the other part.)

1. boa - eat you up (want choreo) + better (ygx choreo). dance crews: ygx vs want

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCfK_qWAhM0&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: ygx. boa gave 151 pts to ygx and 49 pts to want (the biggest gap in points between crews), sharing that although want choreographed eat you up, ygx was more cohesive (pointing to how want wore hats and it was messy). additionally, ygx had better stage presence and was able to capture the camera more. also, because ygx is the only crew to have a b-girl and use it in their routine, the judges applauded want for doing the best they can.

2. cl - doctor pepper (wayb) + hello bitches (prowdmon). dance crews: prowdmon vs wayb

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEEpZ9SrvaE&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: prowdmon. judges shared that doctor pepper's routine is a trademark of wayb and that they should have been the standout. however, they felt like prowdmon did it better.

3. hyuna - crazy (4minute) (coca n butter) + i'm not cool (hook) + lip and hip (hook). dance crews: hook vs coca n butter

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1ikpPKEA30&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: hook. the two dance crews are VERY different in terms of style. coca n butter is described to be more hip-hop while hook is definitely more reflective of the current/newer trends. (when hook was first introduced in the show, they were known as the crew who was famous only for tiktok dances.) the judges shared that hook was more fun and interesting, given their stylistic choice of wearing the pink wigs. whereas it seemed for coca n butter, they felt like something was lacking (they showed something but it didn't feel they did.)

4. jessi - what type of xx (lachica) + nununa (holybang) + gucci (holybang). dance crews: holybang vs lachica

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtZzI11oyqc&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: lachica. (this was the only battle where both crews came in v close pts. whereas for the other crews, there were huge point-gaps.) judges had a hard time choosing, sharing that for lachica they were more detail-oriented while holybang had better teamwork.

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imo, i agree with the judges' choices. though i would have to say i think wayb did their routine (doctor pepper) better than prowdmon. they stood out to me then, but when it came to the second part (hello bitches), prowdmon was better. i loved lachica's performance - it was v clean + reminded me of something a kpop group would do (which like, the crew largely works with kpop acts like chungha, boa's better, etc. so it makes sense).

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this was LONG. thank u if u do read it and post! i miss the kingdom "era" when u would post weekly reviews. the two are v different but this new mnet competition show is the only one i'm invested in. i'm not sure if it's big internationally? i know it is v popular in korea right now. while i've only seen i-fans talk about the show as it relates to chaeyeon (want) because she's an idol. - swf (streetwomanfighter) anon :]

omg this is so long and well organized, forget me writing reviews anon you should do it!! i'm not currently watching the full episodes but i've been catching the few clips that pop up in my youtube recommended occasionally, so i definitely don't have all the context but i'll take a crack at it!

ok so my assumption/from what i can tell, they have a bit of leeway to alter the competing group's choreo as needed to better suit numbers and formations. i also went and found the individual versions of these because why did they make them so small on the split screen, don't they know i'm old and wear glasses. also: MNET FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY STOP MOVING THE FUCKING CAMERA. WE DO NOT NEED SCROLLING VERTICAL BOOM SHOTS OF THIS. just keep the same lens at eye level it's really not that hard. this is like, one of the worst possible ways to shoot dance it is SO annoying. ok i'm done bitching about that let's go.

1. boa - ygx vs want i agree with the big point gap on this one, and i think want made a couple of choices that were not cohesive enough, and obviously they also got set up to fail by ygx. actually i think both groups made choices that were not particularly good, but ygx had more of the skills to back up what they were doing than want did. breaking is very difficult and requires a lot of upper body strength and a higher centre of gravity, which are two physical traits that are less common in women. personally i wouldn't have tried to break to better because although boa songs do have more of a beat than other idol music, it's still not at all the right type of music for breaking. it's gotta be fast, breakers rely on speed, because it's all about momentum; they're literally throwing themselves around the stage. here's the final from battle pro 2019 for example. the music is basically beats only; heavily lyric based music, like idol music, is bad for battling in general because there isn't a lot of consistency. i have more to say about this but i'm getting off track. basically by choosing to handicap the other team (because they don't have a bgirl at all) they shot their own bgirl in the foot because the song is too slow to properly show off her skills. i applaud want for making bold choices, like the hatwork and attempting the breaking, but ultimately when combined with their styling the performance looks disjointed. also they have some formation cohesion issues that make it look a bit like they'e struggling to keep up, even with their own choreo.

2. cl - prowdmon vs wayb i agree with the judges, i think prowdmon bodied the wayb choreo. i actually thought that was their choreo at first. they have the best presence that i've seen of all the groups and the performative "hard bitch" attitude fit in with their genre setting. wayb had several mistakes and synchronization issues that in my opinion made them look sloppy in comparision to prowdmon, who were sharper and had two more people to put into formations. 3. hyuna - hook vs coca n butter ok personally i don't like either of these choreos, but i'm agreeing with the judges here, i think hook's was the mildly more engaging. i can tell that they're very young and do mostly short form tiktok content because i see a lot of eye catching moves, but i don't see a lot of strong connective tissue between those moves. they have good ideas but they also really struggle with putting people into formation and balancing it out well. it doesn't help that they're a seven member crew going up against a four member one, so they have three extra people to figure out what to do with. there's a lot of empty space where there are members waiting in position for a group formation. it also doesn't help at all that they (mnet) appear to just be rawdogging the songs together without any kind of mixing, which is a huge detriment to groups that have to choreograph for two in their section. i'm not cool and lip and hip have two totally different feels and kudos to hook for at least trying to get them to at least visually be cohesive when mnet is go girl giving us nothing sonically. coca n butter has much more of an old school hip hop style, so putting these two up against each other was (probably a random lot draw) an interesting choice. personally i would have been more interested to see hook against want with the boa tracks and ygx against coca n butter with the hyuna tracks. however, i think the reason why coca n butter's stage felt like it was lacking is because they tried to emulate hyuna, without having the stage presence or the weirdness of hyuna. it feels like they're trying too hard and there isn't really any personal character in the piece, versus with hook, who embodied hyuna's weirdness a little more authentically and took a completely different direction. 4. jessi - lachica vs holybang lachica took this one easily, although their formations were a bit wonky for nununana, they covered it fairly well and i think they managed the best transition between songs (between nununana and gucci). they were sharper with good stage pictures and had a good gimmick with the double fringe on the gloves and hats. holy bang had some issues fitting their extra person into the what type of x choreo, but they did well with their own choreo. however, like with coca n butter and hook, because lachica took a new visual spin, this felt too derivative of jessi, so it wasn't that interesting for me to watch. i do think they are one of the groups on the stronger end of skills and presence. --- as far as visually what performances i liked the best, since would this even be a writeup by me if i didn't talk about design, here's a quick breakdown:

prowdmon - got some rudimentary setpieces, got a theme, got some fun variations on a uniform look; excellent for what i assume was limited budget capacity and also it's a dance crew show.

lachica - great continuity of effect in costuming with the fringe, and using the gloves as a mouth/lip effect was one of the most interesting choices of these routines.

hook - the pink wigs and the black latex on the checkered floor was a nice gimmick that was a bit of a nod to hyuna's weird without being too derivative. i'm not expecting a whole lot because these are dance crews but i think this was a decent amount of styling effort.

want - they made a bold choice with the hats and even though it didn't quite pay off for them i still respect it.

coca n butter/ygx/holybang/wayb - ygx and wayb did basic hip hop type styling and while it's absolutely fine, it's just boring. holybang went for a directly inspired jessi look, and although yes bodysuits, overall it wasn't that interesting either. coca n butter get props for doing a costume change and actually incorporating that into the choreo but it feels too much like it's trying to be hyuna weird with the caution tape strapped over their tits and asses.

---

as a final note/question to you, my lovely invested swf anon, what's the format of the show? are there stages like this every episode to review? if these were from the fourth one only, is there anything worth me reviewing in the first three? i'm not particularly interested in the aggressive competitive nature of the show and editing so i don't particularly want to watch the full two hour episodes, but if you think it's worthwhile for me to review stuff then i will. otherwise if there's a set structure (like with kingdom) i can seek out the stages specifically and review them if i know what i'm looking for.

[artificialqueens]

The Parent Trap, Chapter 8 (Biadore) - Henny

WELL WELL WELL I hope you bitches are ready!

Hello, my loves!

Did you miss me? That was a loOOooooOoNg hiatus, almost *holds up three fingers* this many,I think. I have no excuses, I really just lacked the passion to continue this one. But, I’ve been lurking on Tumblr too long and I’m just so ready to get back into this. I have most of it plotted out already. I won’t promise a regular update, but I’m sure I’d get to finish this one way or another.

ALSO, I don’t want to get clocked or whatever, but I know when it comes to IVF and basic biology (I guess) The twins aren’t going to be identical since they’re from two separate sperm cells?? BUT, LIKE ALSO, I DON’T CARE?? It’s fanfiction, not fact. SO LET’S JUST SAY THESE GIRLS ARE IDENTICAL, BUT ONE OF EM IS DANNY’S AND ONE OF EM ROY’S (BUT YOU WON’T REALLY FIND OUT). Just please don’t make me think about science-y stuff. Sorry, STEM Majors!

Another thing, assume AS2 didn’t happen, okey?

All the love, Hennies!

xx Henny

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“Well… well… well… I hope you bitches are ready… “ Nerissa smiles, excited to meet Portia’s favorite. And when the screen shows her a face that is all too familiar and a voice that hits a little too close to home,

“I’m Bianca Del Rio, I’m thirty-seven years old…”

She pales.

Portia notices the quick change of mood. She reaches out to press the spacebar to pause the video, a little upset with the fact that they won’t get to finish the episode. The other girl is silent as she moves from Portia’s bed to her own, and something within Portia knew that Nerissa was in her head, deeply in her head. Not wanting to force the girl into anything she wasn’t comfortable with, Portia fiddles with the edge of her laptop with her head down.

Nerissa can feel the blood draining from her face. Some things were clicking into place. Her dad was a drag queen. Was Riz surprised? Not really. She has seen her dad put makeup on some models, not full-drag, but glam nonetheless. The dresses? Obviously. But, why didn’t HE tell HER? Anger rises in her system, she wanted to scream but something was holding her back. Her and her dad were always so close, and she’d like to believe that he didn’t have any secrets from her. Except that one room in their home. HMMM.  

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A memory unlocks in her head. Age 7, finally mustering up the courage to rebel against her dad’s instructions,specifically about the one room in their apartment her dad said to never go in. It was always kept locked, except Uncle Shane accidentally left it unlocked that fruitful day. Nerissa remembers sneaking in, both adults thinking she was taking a nap. When she turned the lights on, her eyes were met with different colors. Sparkly, colorful, sequined dresses; Tall boots and heels; wigs of blacks, browns, and reds neatly perched on mannequin heads. It was beautiful and excitement bubbled up in her tummy. She walked over to a wall that was filled with picture frames; some people in them she knew, the others she didn’t.

One thing that struck her the most was a portrait that was nearly as big as her then-7-year-old body in the middle of the wall, the chandelier breaking the light in a myriad of colors on the photograph. The picture was of two beautiful queens, a little heavy handed on the makeup, now that she thinks about it. The two ladies wore beautiful black gowns, she would even assume that it was cut from the same fabric. The one with black hair wore a giant crown on her head, smiling a dimpled smile with her face to the spotlight. The other had fire red hair; she looked like she was screaming with joy as she lifted a sparkly scepter up in the air. They had one arm around the other’s waist and they looked very happy. She didn’t think much about it then, but…

“That was Bianca… and oh my god– that was Adore.” Nerissa says out of the blue, catching Portia’s attention from the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry what?” Portia asks, leaning closer to indicate that she was listening carefully now and that Riz had her full attention.

“Back in New York, my dad… he always kept this room locked. I only went there once, but he got really mad when he caught me.”

Portia moves to sit on Nerissa’s bed. “Yeah, okay… but you said something about my dad. What about Adore?”

“In that room,” Nerissa licks her lips, speaking slowly to help her rationalize her story in her head better. “… and I’m not sure if it’s still there. There was a picture of my dad as Bianca, and I think Adore. My dad wore a crown and Adore was holding the scepter.” She says thoughtfully. “Wow, spoiler alert. Ha!” She tries to joke, but now Portia looks at her with a shocked face.

“Wait, YOUR DAD IS BIANCA DEL RIO?! LIKE YOU’RE NERISSA HAYLOCK?? HAYLOCK?!?! AS IN ROY HAYLOCK?”

Nerissa blinks. “I thought you knew – how many Haylocks do you know?”

Portia blanches. “I DIDN’T WANT TO ASSUME! Roy Haylock has always been very hush-hush about you. You don’t even appear on social media, so you can’t really blame me. And my hatred for you, then, really blinded me. Sorry again, by the way. WAIT, LET ME JUST FANGIRL FOR A MINUTE.” Portia grabs a pillow and lets out a giddy scream.  

Nerissa lets out a soft laugh before rolling her eyes playfully. “ANYWAY! FOCUS!! So, as I was saying, my dad has a picture of Bianca and Adore during, what I assume was, the coronation in his super secret closet.”

“Wait… but– No… no… that can’t be.” Portia says once she gets to calm her erratic heartbeat. “Bianca won season 6, I don’t think a photo like that photo exists– unless–” She stops talking abruptly and runs to her laptop. Nerissa watches her type furiously, obviously looking for something. When Portia finds it, she makes her way back to her position earlier.

“Look, see” Portia redirects Nerissa’s attention to the laptop’s screen. It was under a folder called “conspiracy theories” and from Riz’s point-of-view it was nothing but screenshots from Tumblr or twitter. “Back then, during their time, it was rumored that Bianca and Adore had filmed an ending where they both won–like they shared it. “

“Did you really search this about your dad?”

“YES! Now, pay attention” Portia huffs, brushing her hair back. “I don’t have more proof though because apparently the receipts back then were trashed when people started losing interest in Season 6 because we’re like in its, I don’t know like, 1000th season now. Then suddenly, when Bianca said she was quitting drag for good, more people deleted stuff about Bianca to respect her wishes then full-blast supported Roy in his fashion career.”

“Wait– wait, Bianca quit drag? Why?”

“Well, people started speculating that it was probably for his daugh–” Portia stops mid sentence, looking at Nerissa’s sudden sad face sheepishly. “Hey, don’t feel bad!”

“He was so happy, Porsche! I may not remember the picture’s every detail, but he was so happy being Bianca. Did you see the way she smiled the minute she walked in the werkroom? You mean to tell me I did that??”

“No, that’s just one of the speculations, really.”

“What were the others?”

“Retirement, boredom… to name a few. One thing I found interesting, but I highly doubt is that people said it was because of Adore.” Portia snorts as she mindlessly scrolls to her photos on her laptop. Nerissa observes her for a bit, before asking;

“How come?”

“If you’re talking about why people thought Adore was involved; that’s because before Bianca quit drag, her and Adore were really close. As in, super close, they were always seen or spotted together. When Bianca did quit, there was complete radio silence from Adore. They cut all communications on social media. Then people saw that they unfollowed each other and whatnot, PLUS they also found it odd that Roy was still talking to Courtney and would go to support local drag scenes, but would completely cop out if Adore was in any shape/form involved.” Portia explains, and Nerissa notes the hints of sadness in her voice.

“Makes sense to me, so then why do you doubt it?” Nerissa’s head tilts slightly as she watches Portia put her laptop on the bed. Her eyes then drift to the mirror that’s adjacent to the side of her bed and stares intently at their reflection.

“Well, for starters, if it ever happened, my dad would tell me. He knows that I absolutely adore Bianca, so I think if they ever had a relationship; he would let me know. It is weird though how he doesn’t really like talking about her. He’d just smile and shrug, so maybe there was a falling out or a fight.” Portia narrates, her sadness becoming a little more apparent.

Nerissa hums, in deep thought. A pregnant pause lingers in the air. With her curiosity getting the best of her, Nerissa asks out of the blue;

“Hey, Portia?”

“Yeah?"

"Did your dad adopt you?"

Portia looks at Nerissa as if she’s grown another head, which coming from her is ironic in itself.

"Well, no, but it’s kind of complicated. My dad was actually married in the past. He would tell me that they tried both fertilized eggs and hoped for the best. Nine months later, I was born and up until today, he doesn’t know if I was his or his ex’s biological baby, but he loves me nonetheless.”

“But won’t you look predominantly like one though?”

“Yeah, I look like my egg donor who looks eerily like my dad.” Portia pauses, head tilted.

“Aren’t you a little curious which one’s your biological dad?” Nerissa continues to probe. If things lined up correctly, Nerissa knew the both of them were going to be thrown into a loop. Portia thinks for a while, considering the idea, before her face contorts with distaste.

“Nah, he never really cared for me in the beginning, so why should I bother now? Even if I was his biologically, he didn’t raise me. He’s just a sperm donor to me, if ever. Why’d you ask anyway?“

"Because I refuse to play stupid when it’s so obvious that we’re twins.” Nerissa exclaims with such vigor, Portia nearly fell over the bed in surprise. ”Can’t you see how identical we look?"

"But…”

“No, no! Don’t try to deny it. I know there’s this whole theory about at least 5 people in the world looking like you–but not like this! Especially not when we basically have the same story growing up!” Nerissa is shaking as she stands to retrieve a picture in her bag; the very same frame she showed her friends her first day in the camp. She traced the edges of the frame before following the lines of her sleeping dad’s face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?'  She thinks inwardly, willing the man in the photo for an answer.

“Riz, I think this is too much of a stretch. Our dads would’ve told us if it was something this serious. And our childhood couldn’t be that similar! And, even if–IF we were siblings; I wasn’t born a twin.”

“Oh yeah? When’s your birthday?”

“January 12.”

“Same here. I’m turning 11, you’re turning 11, too, right?. I’m telling you…  It makes sense! My dad ALSO said he had a partner a long time ago and like you; I don’t know who my biological father is because I could be my dad’s or his ex! And, to be honest, I really don’t care to know at this point, but it all lines up!” Riz gets flustered now, there’s a funny feeling in her tummy as Portia still looks at her with an unreadable expression on her face.

“And my dad said I looked mostly egg donor too, but he always says that he can see the things that remind him that I’m his or his partner’s– ex partner .” Nerissa finishes, plopping down to sit beside Portia who was still silent. “Well… what do you think? Say something!” She urges, almost pleadingly.

“So… you mean to tell me…”

“Yeah?” Nerissa prompts, watching the girl add things up in her head and the growing realization dawn on her face.

“BIADORE WAS REAL?!?!” Portia screeches with excitement before Nerissa hits her with a pillow.

“UGhhhhhhH!” Nerissa groans, “Can you stop thinking about drag race? This is bigger than us now. BUT, IN HINDSIGHT, YES! I genuinely believe that my dad and your dad used to be together, and they were probably the “ex” in our birth stories.”

“How are we twins with different dads though?” Portia asks once she calms down again.

“It’s possible. I read about it once, it’s like what happened with Neil Patrick Harris and his partner. They had a surrogate accept both eggs, so they had twins. Theirs was fraternal though, and seeing how identical we are– I’m guessing we’re a pretty special case of science and sheer luck.” Nerissa sighs, then sadly adds “It’s kinda annoying how they didn’t tell us. It’s one thing to divorce each other, but to raise kids and hiding a part of their truth? I think it’s cruel.”

“No… It kinda makes sense to me.” Portia says after a few minutes of silence and letting the question linger in the air. “My dad didn’t tell me about you… about how I was a twin because he knew…” she continues to say,  breath slow and soft, almost wavering. Tears slowly fill her eyes as she looks at her twin in front of her, “He knew if he told me about you, I would go looking for you. I- I would’ve done everything to meet my sister because I’ve always wanted a sister.” She sniffles, her hand reaching out to grasp the other girl’s hand. “And now I have one” Portia pulls Nerissa in for a hug.

They let the tears flow; tears of confusion, anger, frustration, joy, and love. They murmured their “sorry”; “it’s okay”; “I’ll still fight you when it comes to boys though”; and “Nah, don’t worry, I don’t even like boys…”

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When sobs turned to sniffles and feelings were pacified by food and other words of affirmation, they found themselves nestled on the ground between their bed frames with their mattress and heaps of pillows and blankets surrounding them.

“We still have a few weeks in here, what do you want to do till then?” Portia asks as she stuffs another cookie down her throat. Nerissa lifts a leg up nonchalantly in the air before dramatically dropping it to Portia’s side of the bed.

“Well, I still have more episodes of season 6 to go, right?” She proposes, making Portia smile with excitement. Portia, then, scrambles to get her laptop and plop back down to their little nest.

“Ready to see my dad kick your dad’s ass?” Portia taunts as she hovers to play Episode 2 from where the left off.

“Yeah, as if…”

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Los Angeles, California.  9PM.

Adore sat in front of the mirror, already cinched and dressed, 30 minutes before she was supposed to go on. She had arrived at least an hour before call time, something she had picked up when her and Bianca used to go to gigs together. She rolls her eyes at the memory, mostly due to her annoyance with herself. She knew deep down that she should’ve moved on; it’s been years. But, can you really blame her? You never forget your greatest love and your most painful heartbreak; it was rare for both storylines to be the same person. Because, who in their right mind let’s their greatest love go? Adore did; Danny did. She lets out a few lip thrills to recompose herself and blinks away at the tears threatening to ruin her makeup.

Her phone rings; without looking at the contact, she answers it with a few sniffles.

“Hello?” Adore drawls while grabbing a tissue across the table and dab it slowly under her eyes and her nose.

“Adore, darling!” Ru’s voice rings loudly across the speakers. Adore can hear him talk to someone in the background, but their conversation couldn’t be heard from her end.

“Hi, Ru…” She tries to mask the surprise in her voice. She knew the RuPaul didn’t make social calls UNLESS it was a big social event. If there’s one reason, one reason at all, Ru could be calling it’s…

“Hey, baby, I just wanted to call you myself since this might be a big favor to ask you…”

–that.

“Of course, Mama, what is it?” Adore was barely listening at this point, trying to come up with excuses already.

“Well, would you be interested in joining the first all-stars: battle of the winners in place of Bianca?”

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PREVIOUS CHAPTERS:

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven |

TAGS Biadore, Bianca Del Rio, Adore Delano, Courtney Act, Parent Trap AU, Henny, Family, Slowburn

WELL WELL WELL I hope you bitches are ready!

Hello, my loves!

Did you miss me? That was a loOOooooOoNg hiatus, almost *holds up three fingers* this many,I think. I have no excuses, I really just lacked the passion to continue this one. But, I’ve been lurking on Tumblr too long and I’m just so ready to get back into this. I have most of it plotted out already. I won’t promise a regular update, but I’m sure I’d get to finish this one way or another.

ALSO, I don’t want to get clocked or whatever, but I know when it comes to IVF and basic biology (Iguess) The twins aren’t going to be identical since they’re from two separate sperm cells?? BUT, LIKE ALSO, I DON’T CARE?? It’s fanfiction, not fact. SO LET’S JUST SAY THESE GIRLS ARE IDENTICAL, BUT ONE OF EM IS DANNY’S AND ONE OF EM ROY’S (BUT YOU WON’T REALLY FIND OUT). Just please don’t make me think about science-y stuff. Sorry, STEM Majors!

Another thing, assume AS2 didn’t happen, okey?

All the love, Hennies!

Xxx Henny

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“Well… well… well… I hope you bitches are ready… “ Nerissa smiles, excited to meet Portia’s favorite. And when the screen shows her a face that is all too familiar and a voice that hits a little too close to home,

“I’m Bianca Del Rio, I’m thirty-seven years old…”

She pales.

Portia notices the quick change of mood. She reaches out to press the spacebar to pause the video, a little upset with the fact that they won’t get to finish the episode. The other girl is silent as she moves from Portia’s bed to her own, and something within Portia knew that Nerissa was in her head, deeply in her head. Not wanting to force the girl into anything she wasn’t comfortable with, Portia fiddles with the edge of her laptop with her head down.

Nerissa can feel the blood draining from her face. Some things were clicking into place. Her dad was a drag queen. Was Riz surprised? Not really. She has seen her dad put makeup on some models, not full-drag, but glam nonetheless. The dresses? Obviously. But, why didn’t HE tell HER?  Anger rises in her system, she wanted to scream but something was holding her back. Her and her dad were always so close, and she’d like to believe that he didn’t have any secrets from her. Except that one room in their home. HMMM.  

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A memory unlocks in her head. Age 7, finally mustering up the courage to rebel against her dad’s instructions,specifically about the one room in their apartment her dad said to never go in. It was always kept locked, except Uncle Shane accidentally left it unlocked that fruitful day. Nerissa remembers sneaking in, both adults thinking she was taking a nap. When she turned the lights on, her eyes were met with different colors. Sparkly, colorful, sequined dresses; Tall boots and heels; wigs of blacks, browns, and reds neatly perched on mannequin heads. It was beautiful and excitement bubbled up in her tummy. She walked over to a wall that was filled with picture frames; some people in them she knew, the others she didn’t.

One thing that struck her the most was a portrait that was nearly as big as her then-7-year-old body in the middle of the wall, the chandelier breaking the light in a myriad of colors on the photograph. The picture was of two beautiful queens, a little heavy handed on the makeup, now that she thinks about it. The two ladies wore beautiful black gowns, she would even assume that it was cut from the same fabric. The one with black hair wore a giant crown on her head, smiling a dimpled smile with her face to the spotlight. The other had fire red hair; she looked like she was screaming with joy as she lifted a sparkly scepter up in the air. They had one arm around the other’s waist and they looked very happy. She didn’t think much about it then, but…

“That was Bianca… and oh my god– that was Adore.” Nerissa says out of the blue, catching Portia’s attention from the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry what?” Portia asks, leaning closer to indicate that she was listening carefully now and that Riz had her full attention.

“Back in New York, my dad… he always kept this room locked. I only went there once, but he got really mad when he caught me.”

Portia moves to sit on Nerissa’s bed. “Yeah, okay… but you said something about my dad. What about Adore?”

“In that room,” Nerissa licks her lips, speaking slowly to help her rationalize her story in her head better. “… and I’m not sure if it’s still there. There was a picture of my dad as Bianca, and I think Adore. My dad wore a crown and Adore was holding the scepter.” She says thoughtfully. “Wow, spoiler alert. Ha!” She tries to joke, but now Portia looks at her with a shocked face.

“Wait, YOUR DAD IS BIANCA DEL RIO?! LIKE YOU’RE NERISSA HAYLOCK?? HAYLOCK?!?! AS IN ROY HAYLOCK?”

Nerissa blinks. “I thought you knew – how many Haylocks do you know?”

Portia blanches. “I DIDN’T WANT TO ASSUME! Roy Haylock has always been very hush-hush about you. You don’t even appear on social media, so you can’t really blame me. And my hatred for you, then, really blinded me. Sorry again, by the way. WAIT, LET ME JUST FANGIRL FOR A MINUTE.” Portia grabs a pillow and lets out a giddy scream.  

Nerissa lets out a soft laugh before rolling her eyes playfully. “ANYWAY! FOCUS!! So, as I was saying, my dad has a picture of Bianca and Adore during, what I assume was, the coronation in his super secret closet.”

“Wait… but– No… no… that can’t be.” Portia says once she gets to calm her erratic heartbeat. “Bianca won season 6, I don’t think a photo like that photo exists– unless–” She stops talking abruptly and runs to her laptop. Nerissa watches her type furiously, obviously looking for something. When Portia finds it, she makes her way back to her position earlier.

“Look, see” Portia redirects Nerissa’s attention to the laptop’s screen. It was under a folder called “conspiracy theories” and from Riz’s point-of-view it was nothing but screenshots from Tumblr or twitter. “Back then, during their time, it was rumored that Bianca and Adore had filmed an ending where they both won–like they shared it. “

“Did you really search this about your dad?”

“YES! Now, pay attention” Portia huffs, brushing her hair back. “I don’t have more proof though because apparently the receipts back then were trashed when people started losing interest in Season 6 because we’re like in its, I don’t know like, 1000th season now. Then suddenly, when Bianca said she was quitting drag for good, more people deleted stuff about Bianca to respect her wishes then full-blast supported Roy in his fashion career.”

“Wait– wait, Bianca quit drag? Why?”

“Well, people started speculating that it was probably for his daugh–” Portia stops mid sentence, looking at Nerissa’s sudden sad face sheepishly. “Hey, don’t feel bad!”

“He was so happy, Porsche! I may not remember the picture’s every detail, but he was so happy being Bianca. Did you see the way she smiled the minute she walked in the werkroom? You mean to tell me I did that??”

“No, that’s just one of the speculations, really.”

“What were the others?”

“Retirement, boredom… to name a few. One thing I found interesting, but I highly doubt is that people said it was because of Adore.” Portia snorts as she mindlessly scrolls to her photos on her laptop. Nerissa observes her for a bit, before asking;

“How come?”

“If you’re talking about why people thought Adore was involved; that’s because before Bianca quit drag, her and Adore were really close. As in, super close, they were always seen or spotted together. When Bianca did quit, there was complete radio silence from Adore. They cut all communications on social media. Then people saw that they unfollowed each other and whatnot, PLUS they also found it odd that Roy was still talking to Courtney and would go to support local drag scenes, but would completely cop out if Adore was in any shape/form involved.” Portia explains, and Nerissa notes the hints of sadness in her voice.

“Makes sense to me, so then why do you doubt it?” Nerissa’s head tilts slightly as she watches Portia put her laptop on the bed. Her eyes then drift to the mirror that’s adjacent to the side of her bed and stares intently at their reflection.

“Well, for starters, if it ever happened, my dad would tell me. He knows that I absolutely adore Bianca, so I think if they ever had a relationship; he would let me know. It is weird though how he doesn’t really like talking about her. He’d just smile and shrug, so maybe there was a falling out or a fight.” Portia narrates, her sadness becoming a little more apparent.

Nerissa hums, in deep thought. A pregnant pause lingers in the air. With her curiosity getting the best of her, Nerissa asks out of the blue;

"Hey, Portia?”

“Yeah?"

"Did your dad adopt you?"

Portia looks at Nerissa as if she’s grown another head, which coming from her is ironic in itself.

"Well, no, but it’s kind of complicated. My dad was actually married in the past. He would tell me that they tried both fertilized eggs and hoped for the best. Nine months later, I was born and up until today he doesn’t know if I was his or his ex’s biological baby, but he loves me nonetheless.”

“But won’t you look predominantly like one though?”

“Yeah, I look like my egg donor who looks eerily like my dad.” Portia pauses, head tilted.

“Aren’t you a little curious which one’s your biological dad?” Nerissa continues to probe. If things lined up correctly, Nerissa knew the both of them were going to be thrown into a loop. Portia thinks for a while, considering the idea, before her face contorts with distaste.

“Nah, he never really cared for me in the beginning, so why should I bother now? Even if I was his, biologically, he didn’t raise me. He’s just a sperm donor to me, if ever. Why’d you ask anyway?“

"Because I refuse to play stupid when it’s so obvious that we’re twins.” Nerissa exclaims with such vigor, Portia nearly fell over the bed in surprise. ”Can’t you see how identical we look?"

"But…”

“No, no! Don’t try to deny it. I know there’s this whole theory about at least 5 people in the world looking like you–but not like this! Especially not when we basically have the same story growing up!” Nerissa is shaking as she stands to retrieve a picture in her bag;the very same frame she showed her friends her first day in the camp. She traced the edges of the frame before following the lines of her sleeping dad’s face. 'Why didn’t you tell me?'  She thinks inwardly, willing the man in the photo for an answer.

“Riz, I think this is too much of a stretch. Our dads would’ve told us if it was something this serious. And our childhood couldn’t be that similar! And, even if–IF we were siblings; I wasn’t born a twin.”

“Oh yeah? When’s your birthday?”

“January 12.”

“Same here. I’m turning 11, you’re turning 11. I’m telling you…  It makes sense! My dad ALSO said he had a partner a long time ago and like you; I don’t know who my biological father is because I could be my dad’s or his ex! And, to be honest, I really don’t care to know at this point, but it all lines up!” Riz gets flustered now, there’s a funny feeling in her tummy as Portia still looks at her with an unreadable expression on her face.

“And my dad said I looked mostly egg donor too, but he always says that he can see the things that remind him that I’m his or his partner’s– ex partner .” Nerissa finishes, plopping down to sit beside Portia who was still silent. “Well… what do you think? Say something!” She urges, almost pleadingly.

“So… you mean to tell me…”

“Yeah?” Nerissa prompts, watching the girl add things up in her head and the growing realization dawn on her face.

“BIADORE WAS REAL?!?!” Portia screeches with excitement before Nerissa hits her with a pillow.

“UGhhhhhhH!” Nerissa groans, “Can you stop thinking about drag race? This is bigger than us now. BUT, IN HINDSIGHT, YES! I genuinely believe that my dad and your dad used to be together, and they were probably the “ex” in our birth stories.”

“How are we twins with different dads though?” Portia asks once she calms down again.

“It’s possible. I read about it once, it’s like what happened with Neil Patrick Harris and his partner. They had a surrogate accept both eggs, so they had twins. Theirs was fraternal though, and seeing how identical we are– I’m guessing we’re a pretty special case of science and sheer luck.” Nerissa sighs, “It’s kinda annoying how they didn’t tell us though. It’s one thing to divorce each other, but to raise kids and hiding a part of their truth? I think it’s cruel.”

“No… It kinda makes sense to me.” Portia says after a few minutes of silence and letting the question linger in the air. “My dad didn’t tell me about you… about how I was a twin because he knew…” she continues to say,  breath slow and soft, almost wavering. Tears slowly fill her eyes as she looks at her twin in front of her, “He knew if he told me about you, I would go looking for you. I- I would’ve done everything to meet my sister because I’ve always wanted a sister.” She sniffles, her hand reaching out to grasp the other girl’s hand. “And now I have one” Portia pulls Nerissa in for a hug.

They let the tears flow; tears of confusion, anger, frustration, joy, and love. They murmured their “sorry”; “it’s okay”; “I’ll still fight you when it comes to boys though”; and “Nah, don’t worry, I don’t even like boys…”

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When sobs turned to sniffles and feelings were pacified by food and other words of affirmation, they found themselves nestled on the ground between their bed frames with their mattress and heaps of pillows and blankets surrounding them.

“We still have a few weeks in here, what do you want to do till then?” Portia asks as she stuffs another cookie down her throat. Nerissa lifts a leg up nonchalantly in the air before dramatically dropping it to Portia’s side of the bed.

“Well, I still have more episodes of season 6 to go, right?” She proposes, making Portia smile with excitement. Portia, then, scrambles to get her laptop and plop back down to their little nest.

“Ready to see my dad kick your dad’s ass?” Portia taunts as she hovers to play Episode 2 from where the left off.

“Yeah, as if…”

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Los Angeles, California.  9PM.

Adore sat in front of the mirror, already cinched and dressed, 30 minutes before she was supposed to go on. She had arrived at least an hour before call time, something she had picked up when her and Bianca used to go to gigs together. She rolls her eyes at the memory, mostly due to her annoyance with herself. She knew deep down that she should’ve moved on; it’s been years. But, can you really blame her? You never forget your greatest love and your most painful heartbreak; it was rare for both storylines to be the same person. Because, who in their right mind let’s their greatest love go? Adore did; Danny did. She lets out a few lip thrills to recompose herself and blinks away at the tears threatening to ruin her makeup.

Her phone rings; without looking at the contact, she answers it with a few sniffles.

“Hello?” Adore drawls while grabbing a tissue across the table and dab it slowly under her eyes and her nose.

“Adore, darling!” Ru’s voice rings loudly across the speakers. Adore can hear him talk to someone in the background, but their conversation couldn’t be heard from her end.

“Hi, Ru…” She tries to mask the surprise in her voice. She knew the RuPaul didn’t make social calls UNLESS it was a big social event. If there’s one reason, one reason at all, Ru could be calling it’s…

“Hey, baby, I just wanted to call you myself since this might be a big favor to ask you…”

–that.

“Of course, Mama, what is it?” Adore was barely listening at this point, trying to come up with excuses already.

“Well, would you be interested in joining the first all-stars: battle of the winners in place of Bianca?”

[badchoicesposts]

Costumes

Don’t Dream It’s Over

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar), Platonic! Drake x MC

A/N: This is a one shot that I got inspired to write by Day 28 of The Choices October challenge set up by @playchoicesficidea​. It takes place in my Don’t Dream It’s Over Universe which you can catch up with on my masterlist. It is a flashback during the time Liam and Ali were together in New York before he moved back to Cordonia. 

Masterlist

Tags: I’m tagging everyone on my Don’t Dream It’s Over tag list.

@flowerpowell​, @ao719​, @kingliam2019​, @emceesynonymroll​, @hopefulmoonobject​, @dcbbw​, @qammh-blog​, @liamxs-world​, @drakesensworld​, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction​, @lauradowning29​, @texaskitten30​, @senseofduties​, @indiacater​, @alexintheskyy​, @jared2612​ 

“What about Aladdin and Jasmine,” Liam asked, knowing how much Ali liked the Disney movie. 

“There is no way I’m showing that much midriff in public. Also a blond haired, blue-eyed Aladdin might be a bit problematic,” she said turning in his arms to press a kiss to his cheek. 

September was coming to a close and Ali was more than ready for Halloween. It was her favorite holiday, and she had already begun to decorate the penthouse she shared with the Larsons with various pumpkins, cobwebs, and skeletons. Her enthusiasm had begun to spread to Liam and Drake’s apartment as well, but in efforts to keep things a bit tame since she didn’t live there, she restricted herself to only putting up the decorative fall wreath on their door and placing a few fall themed scented candles around the place.

Every year the Larson family threw a costume party on Halloween, and every year Ali went out of her way to make sure she had the perfect costume. One year she, Emma, and Cole (deciding to be a good sport and wear a dress and wig) had gone as the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus. Another year, the entire family had decided to be the Addams Family. Her and Luca acting as Morticia and Gomez, while Emma and Cole decided on being Wednesday and Pugsley, and Ezra made a very convincing Cousin Itt. 

However, this year would be the first that Ali had been able to attend wearing a couples costume with her actual boyfriend. She had been leaning against Liam’s side and scrolling through ideas for costumes on Pinterest for over an hour before they finally decided on being a Disney couple. 

“We can be Hercules and Meg!” she said excitedly as the door to the apartment opened and Drake strolled in. 

He immediately rolled his eyes as he heard Spooky, Scary Skeletons playing from Ali’s laptop, but dropped down onto the couch next to them anyway. He glanced over to her laptop screen and looked over to Liam pointedly. 

“Isn’t it a bit early for Halloween?” 

“I need the time to make the costumes,” she said, continuing to scroll. 

She liked the idea of Hercules and Meg, but she wasn’t completely sold on it yet. 

“What about the music?” Drake asked, raising his eyebrows at her. 

“I’m getting myself into the spooky mood,” she said as if it were obvious.

Drake simply shook his head and grabbed the remote for the tv. 

“Do you need me to make your costume too?” she asked.

“My costume?” 

“Yeah, for the party. You have to wear a costume.”

“I haven’t worn a Halloween costume since I was a kid,” he responded. 

“Perfect reason to get back into it!” she exclaimed.

What Ali missed was the look that Liam was giving Drake over her shoulder telling him to just go along with it. 

Drake sighed but nodded along anyway.

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” he said absently, turning back to the tv.

“Do you know what you want to be?” she asked, excitedly.

“Uh, whatever. You decide,” he said. 

This time it was his turn to miss the mischievous smile that crossed her face as she turned back to her laptop, already plotting out costume ideas for him. 

*Halloween Night*

Ali adjusted the pink scarf she had fashioned into a headband for her costume and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She turned back to look at Liam and smiled at the proud expression he wore on his face at both of their outfits. 

“Well, don’t you look handsome,” she said flirtatiously, walking into his arms and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“All thanks to you, love,” he responded, looping his finger through one of her gold hoop earrings. “I didn’t know you could sew so well.” 

“I took a costume design class in high school,” she shrugged, making her way out into the living room of the apartment. 

She crossed over to Drake’s room and knocked on his door.

“Are you ready?” she called.

The sound of his heavy footsteps filled her ears and a moment later he opened the door, an angry scowl on his face. He was only wearing a pair of boxers and clutching his costume angrily in his hands. 

“I am not wearing this!” he said, shoving it back into her hands and slamming his bedroom door shut behind him. 

Ali doubled over with laughter and turned to look at Liam who was fighting back his own smile as well. 

“Oh, come one! We’re all matching. I thought it would be a fun family costume!” she called knocking on his door again. 

He emerged from his room again, this time wearing a pair of sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt. 

“Yes, so fun,” he said sarcastically, “I’m not going.” 

“Drake, it’s Halloween. It’s a costume. No one’s going to care,” she tried to reason with him. 

“If no one’s going to care, then why do I have to wear that when you and Liam are wearing normal costumes,” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Fine, do you want to trade? I’ll wear it and you can wear this dress,” she said seriously. 

Drake narrowed his eyes at her comment before turning his back and walking over to the couch. Ali looked over to Liam for assistance. He straightened up and fought back a smile as he approached his friend. 

During her pinterest search Ali had seen a family costume photo of a couple dressed as Esmeralda and Phoebus from Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and their young child dressed as Esmeralda’s sidekick, the goat Djali, and she immediately knew what she wanted to do for their costumes. She had set to work on her and Liam’s almost immediately, wanting to make sure she got all of the details perfect. When it came to Drake’s Djali costume, she had taken an easier route, buying an adult mountain goat costume and making a few necessary alterations. She couldn’t resist the urge she had to poke fun at one of her best friends, but she had always known there was a chance he wouldn’t agree to wear the costume.

The costume itself was very similar to a onesie. The small hood turned into the goat’s face and rested on top of the wearer’s head. She had added some grey fabric around the snout and a small gold earring to one of the floppy ears to match the appearance of the character from the movie, and it had all turned out surprisingly well. Now all they had to do was convince Drake to actually wear it. 

She forced down another laugh as she approached the couch were Liam was trying unsuccessfully to convince Drake to put on the goat costume. She dropped down next to Drake and wrapped her hands around his arm, giving him the best puppy dog eyes she could muster and jutting out her bottom lip. 

“Pretty please, will you wear it, Drake?” she asked resting her chin on his shoulder, and batting her eyelashes at him in attempts to look adorable. 

Drake was avoiding making eye contact with her, and Ali could tell that his resolve was lowering. Especially when he looked over to Liam who was mirroring Ali’s facial expression. He pushed himself off from the couch and stormed back into his room with a muttered, “You two are ridiculous.” 

Ali looked over at Liam questioningly, and he simply raised his finger in response, telling her to give it a minute. Sure enough, about five minutes later Drake emerged from his room once more. This time, however, he was wearing the goat costume with a pair of black shoes, his shoulders slumped over in disappointment. 

“Oh my god, you’re so adorable,” Ali responded excitedly, walking over to him and squishing his cheeks together. 

“Stop doing that!” he said, pushing her hands away. 

She just laughed in response and raised her hand up to “his” ear, to straighten out the gold earring. The fur was soft on her finger as she adjusted the hood for him, much to his disdain. Ali backed up and clasped her hands together, a large smile on her face as she took in his appearance. 

“Don’t smile at me like that,” he said, already making his way to the door of the apartment. 

Liam walked up behind Ali and wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to muffle his laughter in her hair. 

“Are you two coming or not!” he called back bitterly, causing the two of them to share one last smile before following him out the door.

[multimetaverse]

Thoughts on the 3c Promo

Really ugly of Terri to ruin the swing set scenes like this. The first two swing scenes were really the closest Tyrus has ever come to equal focus with the het ships and now the last swing scene we’ll ever see will be an angsty muddled mess. I know this ultimately ends with Cyrus and TJ reconciling and later getting together and Kira learning to respect others and apologizing but so much is going to have to be swept under the rug to pull it off. It’s fair to say that we shouldn’t prejudge this storyline but we don’t need to pretend that it’s going to be a satisfying journey when TJ only has 2 eps left after 3x15 and there’s only a handful of Tyrus scenes left. It’s going to be a real sharp contrast on how little we get of TJ’s coming out story line compared to how much we got for his learning disability story line. I can certainly see why Luke and Josh were begging people to keep watching until the finale in interviews. 

Terri pulled a neat trick by making TJ both the victim and the bad guy. The casual audience won’t like him and will likely never fully understand what this plot was about even after the bench scene. It’s going to be extremely difficult for TJ’s apology to be so good as to avoid Cyrus coming off as a little bit pathetic for accepting it and then later dating TJ. Why should Cyrus trust TJ? Why would Andi and Buffy support Cyrus and TJ getting together? 

Even if TJ later on tells Cyrus that Kira was manipulating him, how do they justify Kira being at the big party in the finale? It sure looks like she gets off with a slap on the wrist. What’s the message for the kids watching? If you’re manipulative and low key homophobic as long as you apologize later it’s all good and you can hang with the people you hurt? It’s good to show kids that even bad people can be redeemed but what exactly can Kira do to redeem herself when Raquel was only on set for one more day after 3x15 and that was the same day all the other kids were on set.

There’s been a noticeable pattern of TJ’s screentime with Cyrus being reduced over S3: we get Avi’s screentime in 3x08 coming out of Luke’s, TJ only being briefly in 3x11, TJ getting his usual 3 minutes in 3x13 but half of that being with Kira, and now likely most of his screentime in 3x15 being with Kira. They never made Walker have scenes with Amber when he was Andi and Buffy’s love interest and it’s transparent why they’re forcing TJ to have solo scenes with Kira. And we’re soon at the point where TJ was basically shoved off screen. It really doesn’t reflect well on this show that whatever semblance of equality Tyrus has with the straight ships is an accidental byproduct of Stoney being exposed as a pedophile. 

The closeted jock is a cliche trope and at least when shows like Degrassi and Glee used it they actually were able to tell those stories openly. It’s insane that we’re going from TJ being this scared in 3x15 to coming out to and getting together with Cyrus and then being out to at least Andi, Buffy, and Jonah with just two more appearances which likely don’t span more than a month or two in universe. It will be a wonderful ending, but how on earth will it be justified? 

The ep description describes Cyrus being disappointed by TJ’s new friendship and I think that’s the level they’ll keep it at. They’ll come close to bearding TJ but will keep this conflict firmly in the realm of friendship. We’ve already seen Cyrus being scared of his sexuality and trying to hide it after he realized he liked Jonah but this time around TJ already knows he’s gay and likes Cyrus and unlike Cyrus he won’t be having multiple coming outs spread out over several months; he’ll be out to all the people he’ll be allowed to be out to all in one night. 

TJ’s wearing the camo hoodie from 3x07 and he’s wearing black jeans like he was wearing in 2x11 and the swings look similar to the swings from 2x11. Kira is in the swing Cyrus sits in which is intentional. We saw from the promo a few weeks back that Cyrus is wearing blue and Kira is in red which is symbolic as is TJ being literally camouflaged and of course the blatant metaphor of swinging. Cyrus will obviously take this as a private betrayal when he sees them on the swings which compounds the public betrayal of costume day. It was always going to end badly since 3x15 was TJ’s last appearance until after the original wedding. 

It’s going to be muddled and subtextual but I think Cyrus is the one who leaves and later TJ reaches his breaking point and begins his off screen journey of working through his issues and this is likely what causes Kira to show some remorse and sets up her brief apology in the finale. The show giving some focus to TJ’s coming out story line would be admirable if they hadn’t already been barely able to cover Cyrus’ story line and Terri comes off as more delusional than naive for thinking she could pull this off. I’ll really miss the show when it ends in 6 weeks but I won’t miss Disney’s censorship or Terri’s questionable writing. 

It looks like the GHC + Jonah uncover clothes in the dumpster one day and the protest/jail scene is another day. Good to see Jonah participating this time around. Likely one of the last big plots all 4 of the main kids have together to this extent. Probably the general theme will be to show how great the GHC + Jonah are as friends in contrast to how TJ’s being a bad friend to Cyrus and Kira is being a bad friend to TJ. It looks like they kids discover the clothing company is throwing out perfectly good clothing, trespass to take the thrown out clothes, and later puts them on display outside the store.

It looks like the bowling alley is now in 3x16 and the new basketball plot for Muffy is likely in 3x17. Cyrus at least is at the bowling alley and he was briefly on set for the basketball plot as well. It will be bitterly funny if he’s the one who helps Buffy work through her feelings for Marty. 

Andi and Cyrus in Andi Shack, always nice to see those two have scenes together.  The rainbow wig looks like the one Cyrus wore while dancing in 1x04. Could be related to Andi’s art project? We see her near the prop garbage in one clip. Maybe this is where Cyrus talks about his screenplay?

The promo asks if Bexie will get married, if 3x16 is the big reveal of Bowie’s true feelings it could be set up for a Mack family only wedding in 3x17 but we’ll have to see.

Awkward Jamber is probably before their go kart date which is likely where they break up.

Cyrus and Jonah camp out looks fun, seems like they’re viewing the meteor shower Cyrus mentioned in the texts.

I really hope Celia’s dancing is only a very brief scene

[mrsslrss]

2019.

Welcome to my annual accounting of things I loved, 2019 edition. 

I’m realizing the pattern here is to start this with a reflection of how I rang in the year but 2019 crept in pretty calmly: no big bugs to kill, no spontaneous sobs to a Sharon Van Etten song. On the first day of this year, I woke up and cleaned the house and, I don’t know, probably went to Big Bear and got a coffee and took a nap. Since it’s nearly the end of the decade, I could start there, but I couldn’t tell you where I was for New Year’s Eve, 2009; if I had to guess, I’d put myself at a friend’s house on the North Shore, drinking PBR with the guys and listening to pop-punk. That winter I was convinced I wouldn’t return to Poughkeepsie, I was so miserable, but when I did things started to fall into place.

I think my goal for this year was roughly something like, Just put your head down and do the work. When you are tempted to get fed up and wither from frustration or have a big ego about not getting what you want, just put your head down and do the work. I don’t know if I did that, exactly, if I really stuck to the goal, but every so often in a particularly challenging moment the goal would come into focus at the front of my mind and I’d sigh and acquiesce and nod at the work ahead of me. I got a lot done, I think; in this way I got a lot done. It was nice to be reminded about how the process can be the goal -- something I thought about a lot this year. Sometimes the goal looks like a result, but it’s really the habit I’m after.

I’d like to keep that up next year. 2019 was a year of cultivating; 2020, maybe, will be a year of action. Or maybe not! Maybe nothing flowers until 2021 or beyond. Or maybe I start tearing things up by the roots in 2020, who knows! 

So anyway. Here’s to 2019, and here’s a list (more or less alphabetized -- why not!) of ten things that helped me make it through.

annie’s homegrown birthday cake bunny grahams

My official snack of the year. Over the summer I was visiting MZ in Brooklyn and we got snacks at their neighborhood grocery store and I bought these, which are meant to celebrate the 30th anniversary of this snack company, taste like funfetti cake, and are definitely meant for/marketed to children. But anyway I ate the whole box and then sought them out at every Whole Foods in my vicinity (because I went online and WH is apparently basically the only place you can find them?) and started preaching the good word to anyone who was looking for a snack. By, like, September I had eaten so many of these that I could no longer stomach them, so I’ve been on a brief hiatus, but still: snack of the year.

keeping lists

I started this year with a big digital spreadsheet called “2019 things” where I intended to keep lists: all the new albums and songs that struck me, all the old albums and songs I got obsessed with, the places I wanted to travel in the year. I kept adding tabs: the books I finished, my financial priorities, stuff I wanted to make sure to read or watch. I was pretty diligent about updating them -- I wrote down every book I read, but definitely forgot to add a couple albums; I never made it to Philly this year. I started keeping gratitude lists (analog) towards the end of year, too, because in college a friend told me it helps rewire the brain away from pessimism, or something. 

meditation

Before this year, I’ve never had a serious relationship with meditation, but it always seemed like the kind of thing I would like. In mid-January I got struck by the urge to try it, so I did, and kept it up for a few days, and then I fell off, and then I got back on, and now, somehow, it’s been three-hundred-something days of it in a row. I have learned to find a quiet moment in a nice corner of my room before work, but also in a tent in the Catskills, in a guest room in Wales, in a hotel in Georgia, on a walk through Brooklyn, in my childhood bedroom. My life and brain don’t feel, like, enormously different or changed, but that’s good; it feels useful to keep showing up to something without expectation.

my siblings

Having a big family means every year is inevitably a big year for someone, but this was, somehow, a big year for all of my siblings. Mostly good things: health and healing, a wedding and a graduation, a license acquired and a course of study started and jobs well done. It doesn’t feel good to get into the hard stuff here, but there was a lot of that, too -- a lot of grueling bullshit overcome. After the wedding I almost texted everyone just to say how proud I was of all of them, but naturally I chickened out. But I really am proud!

navy blue

Longtime readers of, uh, *gestures wildly* whatever this is may recall that last year I claimed I only wore black but might be interested in navy blue? This year I determined that navy blue is so good: the color of the deep ocean, the night sky, my first Catholic school uniform. I bought navy jumpsuits, a sweatshirt, a scrunchie. I wore navy-adjacent eyeliner just in the corners of my eyes most days of July and August and September. I’m wearing a navy blue sweater right now. A good year for navy. 

“not” by big thief

My song of the year, which I knew from the first time I heard it. So much of this year (the news, the planet, global catastrophes, mass violence, etc. not to mention personal failures) felt hopeless and dreadful, but also so constant and exhausting that I wasn’t sure I could keep summoning anger, never mind do it in a useful way. I love this song because it is about abjection in the same way it isn’t about anything, about absence as presence, about not-knowing as knowing. It is desperate without being hopeless, explosive without being violent, or maybe: violent without being harmful. It’s about transcending language and different kinds of language and using whichever tools you have (Words are good enough). It’s about being swallowed whole by the everything-ness, a theme that came up in so much of the work I loved this year, the subject of an essay I’ll never write (lol). Music Twitter™ got into an argument about whether this band is good; I feel so sure of my love for this song (and most of what this band does) that I, for once, didn’t immediately assume I was a fool, or being had, just because someone disagrees with me. Instead it felt delicious and special to resonate with a thing that doesn’t resonate for everyone, a rare and generous experience for me. Imagine that.

pottery

At the beginning of the year I signed up for a ten-week session of pottery classes at a studio in Georgetown, and then when I told M, he wanted to join (by which I felt incredibly endeared). Then it became ten more weeks, then ten more, and since then we’ve gone nearly every Thursday night. Some things that are nice: learning to to make something with my hands, especially after staring at a screen all day; not being able to look at my phone or read the news for several hours (related: so many of the Democratic debates happened on Thursday nights!); having a standing weekly date with my favorite person. Nearly everyone in our lives got lumpy bowls, vases, etc. for Christmas this year, of which we are very proud.

“rooms on fire” by stevie nicks

This year, Stevie Nicks became the first woman be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame twice and so Rolling Stone interviewed her about her fabulous career. In the interview, Rob Sheffield said his favorite song of hers is “Ooh My Love” from The Other Side of the Mirror, which is an album I had never listened to before, so I started listening and the first song just hooked me. It’s so dramatic and magical and moody! It’s right up there on the Apple Music-generated playlist of my most-played songs of the year.

stockholm

For several years one of my repeated resolutions was “go to Scandinavia.” Sweden has always been the big goal, but Oslo seemed possible for a minute, and in 2013 I did briefly entertain the idea of going to graduate school in Finland. (Imagine!) This year I got really fed up of having not really, you know, taken a proper vacation since starting my job, so I took a full week off after my sister’s wedding and planned a solo trip to Stockholm. Each day of my trip I woke up whenever I woke up and I explored a different island; I went for long runs, drank coffee, ate kardemummabullar, took the subway across town, saw a one-of-a-kind Viking ship. I burst into tears at the Moderna Museet, ate through a vegetarian tasting menu at the Fotografiska, had an extremely lovely spa experience. I read three books in a week. I loved every second of it.

wigs

I bought a big gaudy pink wig this spring in anticipation of seeing Sasha Velour’s one-woman show in New York -- or, I told myself I bought it for that reason, but I think I really just wanted the possibility of wearing a big gaudy pink wig at will. After the Sasha show, I wore it to see Robyn at The Anthem, and was delighted when, after I put a picture on Instagram, a handful of people in my life thought I had a) dyed my hair pastel pink and b) grew my hair ~half a foot over the weekend. (I wish!) I think I’ll wear it for our house’s beach-themed NYE party, too.

everything else 

frequent, long drives with M; songs about solidarity; the #saltypod; custom t-shirts; craving waffles; having an e-reader; the concept of “the archive”; choosing kindness; threatening to move to rural new england to work on a farm; being in love

[aftermathdb]

DEATH BATTLE Review: Black Canary vs. Sindel

So… Sindel for Injustice 3 then, or Black Canary for Mortal Kombat?

Gotta say, this being a Mortal Kombat episode and not really having the room to say Black Kanary is sorta annoying.

Well… Looks like they fixed… something here. These guys aren’t as nightmare-inducing as last time, but they are still kinda uncomfortable to look at.

Black Canary′s Preview.

DC History lesson time. A long time ago, the Justice Society of America were the first recorded instance of a group of Super Humans banding together to form their own group. This included plenty of crazy people, like a furry boxer, the manifestation of God’s wrath, and a Judo master known as Black Canary.

But the BC For this DC Rundown is the one that made it a household name, Dinah Laurel Lance. The second Black Canary.

Incidentally, Boomstick basically makes himself known as Barbara Dunkleman and Chuggaconroy’s love child in Canary’s rundown. I don’t know whether to cheer that thought on or to shudder at it, so I’ll leave it at that.

Anyways, long story short, Dinah would have not have started her Superhero career if not for a certain thing that happened to her.

Whether you believe that it was the Metagene or a wizzrd’s doing, Dinah developed the signature Canary Cry.

And as for a disguise, she originally wore a blonde wig, but eventually did a permanent dye-job of blonde. Or as Boomstick put it…

God, I love puns.

Dinah’s attack here is one of the most deadliest things in comic history, and when she amps it up, she can pull off so much crazy stuff that it almost sounds like Ollie is the one made of Kleenex.

With enough force, she can even fly. Doing so requires about 195 Decibels to do so, and I cannot tell you how much auto-correct was a friend of mine in writing the word “decibels.” That’s gotta be in the top 20 most misspelled words of all time or whatever.

Of course, this does lead into an obvious weak-point…

Attacking the throat disarms her voice.

Luckily, she’s basically a master martial artist to back her up, and Canary Bombs to do all the sonic screaming for her while she catches her voice.

This leads into a Wiz and Boomstick segment.

Also, yes. Expect that whole “CENSORED BECAUSE NIGHTMARE-FACE” thing to be a running gag for me. Hopefully until they f*cking fix that goddamn Boomstick smile! Yeesh! Not even the Joker makes me cringe that much.

Anyways, Dinah has some impressive feats, as the hosts go over

Then there was one time she did this:

Dinah also survived having her Canary Cry being reflected back at her. Admittedly, this is because of the “required secondary powers” trope being in action, but still, really impressive.

Now, Dinah once claimed that she could react to nano seconds. But that’s actually backed up. She outraced a Green Lantern’s scan on a robot, and has done some other crazy things.

And the end quote is pretty much the victory screen from Injustice 2. Which I can’t feel too upset about considering Sindel’s end quote.

Sindel′s Preview.

So, Mortal Kombat history lesson time. Edenia was a peaceful and prosperous realm, a Garden of Eden, if you will. Until the Outworld Emperor Shao Khan came along and grabbed it all for himself.

Feeling pretty good about himself, Shao Khan tried to take a shot at Earthrealm

Sindel turned out to be a Kung-Fu sorceress, who offed herself to keep Shao Khan’s next target, Earthrealm from being hit.

Khan’s answer?- Resurrect and brainwash Sindel and take Earthrealm by force.

And apparently, she could do it too. As the hosts point out, despite her being dead for a long time and the whole “From another realm” thing, Sindel is an expert in a couple martial arts.

And we also learn a few new things about Boomstick too. Like… How attractive he thinks Sindel is… I don’t blame him. Winx Club made me want to have the Wicked Witch of the West step on me. Speaking of witch, when Icy vs. Elsa?

Anyways, Sindel can create sonic screams known as the Banshee Scream, which can explode heads, rend flesh, or even strip off skin.

She can even concentrate them into balls of energy called “Star Screamers” And Boomstick brings up the obvious…

When Luna vs. Freddy Krueger, am I right?

Anyways, Sindel once used that Banshee Scream to blast apart a canyon.

It was comparable to a Magnitude 5 Earthquake.

For reference, that’s 500 Tons of TNT.

We get into our next Wiz and Boomstick segment…

Okay, can I just say that I really really appreciate it when the Wiz and Boomstick segments are used to further the analysis rather than just be there for a joke?- It feels a bit more appropriate that they went over Sindel’s strength level here than if this was just used as a joke piece for some gag that could have very well have fallen flat.

Tangent aside, they mentioned that Sindel is also comparable to Kabal, who could slash bullets from automatic weapons in midair. Putting Sindel at hypersonic levels.

She’s not doing so bad for herself as a… “Zombie MILF” (Boomstick’s words, not mine. Someone please ask what was up with that, ‘cause I’m sure as hell not doing that).

But whether you choose to follow the original timeline where she freed herself and retook the throne,

Or the new timeline where the coup was her idea,

You’re going to go down screaming if you stare down Sindel.

(Told you that Canary’s “end quote” was an appropriate compliment to Sindel’s)

The Battle Itself.

Luis and Kiid are maining the animation, Black Canary will be voiced by Blythe Renay and Sindel will be voiced by Caitlyn Elizabeth. , Brandon Yates is composing Sirens of Combat (Not spelled with a “K” unfortunately), and audio led by Chris Kokkinos.

So the fight story for this one is pretty basic.

It’s basically just Black Canary vs. Sindel in the tournament. And while I could make the joke of “We could have had the ‘FIGHT’ graphic come back for this” I’m… Probably going to redirect you to my DA Journal Entry where I point out that if they had really wanted to point to an episode to justify why they got rid of it, they should have chosen a better episode than Widow-Widow.

Back to the actual battle, right off the bat, it’s pretty easy and quick to see that Canary easily takes the speed advantage.

Sindel actually fails to land any blows until she grapples Black Canary and slams her around a few times.

Luckily, Canary has defenses for this sort of stuff, and counter-attacks. Also, I’m going to take this point and say that Sindel’s hair is really distracting. It’s like she’s just asking for it to be pulled, and given what Shao Khan basically does, that thought now fills me with squick.

By the way, if you’ve ever liked a beam struggle, you’re probably going to love a sound-based one!

Anyways, Black Canary manages to blow Sindel away and asks a question that I think a few MK fans have asked.

Sindel then states the obvious.

So we get into our finishing blow (Yeah, this one was kinda short)

Verdict + Explanation.

So, right off the bat, Sindel had some things that gave her an edge up.

Sindel certainly had strength in the bag.

But Canary’s seen and fought stronger. So it’s not a heavy-hitting edge.

Plus, Canary’s way faster.

Seriously. How does she not break Ollie when they put Arrows in the Quiver?

Plus, Canary has a massive edge in martial arts skills. She’s mastered over 15 while Sindel only really has two.

Of course, none of this really matters until we get into the big question: Which is deadlier?- The Canary Cry, or the Banshee Scream?

Black Canary’s current score clocks in at about 300 Decibels. Impressive.

Sindel’s score clocks in at 235 Decibels. Also impressive. But then Boomstick points out the obvious:

As it turns out, Decibels go up in logarithmic units, not geometric ones.

This means that Black Canary’s scream was over a million times more powerful than Sindel’s.

There was no way that Sindel was tanking any of that any time soon.

Like I said: Love child of Barbara Dunkleman and Chuggaconroy. Let’s throw Pearls Before Swine cartoonist, Stephen Pastis in there too.

Overall impression.

Short battle, but given that we’re getting 20 episodes this season, I’d say that this is a pretty good fight.

I’m not a fan of how they didn’t go over durability feats, I feel that that would have solidified the overall result a bit more. Admittedly, if each of them had just opened up with their strongest attacks, Canary would win that easy what with her 300 Decibel cry, but durability is one of the many major factors in the battle.

Also, Sindel’s hair was super distracting throughout the animation. Plus, we didn’t get to see a whole lot of stuff in the fight. If Canary had said something along the lines of “You’re strong… I’ve fought stronger.” in the battle, that would have better demonstrated that Sindel’s strength wasn’t anything new to her, and that she would be more actively moving to avoid hits.

7.6/10

Next Time…

So, remember how they said that Leonardo vs. Zits was originally going to be Leonardo vs. White Ranger, but was changed because of a poll?

We got ourselves a variant!

Is there a fight that you want me to review? - Send an ask/request, and I’ll look into it!

Do you want to read my fanfic based around DEATH BATTLE itself? click here!

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you next time for…

Leader-In-Blue vs. Red T-Rex.

[bangbaptan]

*Mature Themes*

Genre: Angst/Smut/Fluff

Member: Jungkook, mentions of the others

| PT. 1 | PT. 2 | PT. 3 | PT. 4 |

Word Count: 6.5K

A/N: I’m actually a little nervous about posting this...but I really liked the story I came up with for this and really wanted to write it. I had the sudden idea for this scenario during a conversation admin k and I had the other day lol. Please let me know what you think! Enjoy<3

You stared back at your reflection in the mirror with solemn eyes.

The red silky material of the dress hugging your body was beautiful. However, it left very little to the imagination. You felt uncomfortable, but over the past year you had learned to suppress the feeling. As an escort, feelings like that would only hinder and limit your clientele. You could not afford to be picky.

You attempted to pull the dress down, hoping it’d cover more of your thighs but it wouldn’t budge. With a heavy sigh you slipped on a pair of heels before heading down to the entrance of your apartment complex.

Opening the door to the outside, you saw Hoseok leaning against the company’s car holding the door open for you. You gave him a small smile and a ‘thank you’ as you slipped inside.

Hoseok was the first person you became friends with when you started the job. He often drove the majority of escorts to their appointments, so you met with him more often than anyone else. You felt comfortable with his presence as he was always cheerful and kind.

He flashed you a smile before turning around and starting the engine, “You look beautiful as always.”

“Thank you.” Hoseok had meant no harm but, unfortunately, those types of compliments hardly made you happy anymore. They just seemed to make your situation all the more realistic.

“‘New World Hotel’, right?” He asked entering the address into the GPS. You hummed in response. After a bit of idle conversation, the car falls into a comfortable silence as you stare out the window watching the scenery pass by, lost in thought.

A year ago, your father had walked out on both you and your mother. Just the shock of that took a big toll on your mother. However, what really pushed her over the edge was a week later when the debt collectors knocked on your door. The reason for your father’s absence became crystal clear. He had chosen to abandon his family in exchange for his safety.

It was something your mother could not come to terms with, it was no wonder she soon fell sick. Eventually, you had to start school and she had to be admitted into a hospital. With the cost of school, living expenses, hospital bills, and paying off your father’s debt, you could not think of another solution at the time. Thus, your life as an escort began.

“We’re here.” Hoseok said, pulling you out of your thoughts. The drive seemed to have gone by a lot quicker than you would have liked. As you got out the car you turned towards Hoseok to thank him before grudgingly making your way inside the hotel.

Stepping inside, you grew a little self-conscious. Although it was probably just your imagination, you couldn’t help but feel as if people were staring at you knowing why you were here. Certainly judging of course. You couldn’t blame them.

You knock a bit timidly when you get to the assigned suite. As the door opens, a familiar face greets you but it brings you zero comfort or relief. The man standing before you was a regular of yours.

“Good evening, Moon-sik.” You greet him, mustering as much of a genuine smile as you could.

“Darling,” he purred, “how is it possible for you to grow more beautiful each time?”

You felt bad for him at times. Moon-sik was a businessman in his late 40s and due to hereditary  genetics, he had started balding at an early age so he often wore a wig. You would often meet him in his workday suits stained with the sweat of the day. He had a wife and children, and often talked to you about them which made you all the more uneasy. You felt guilty towards his family. If only they knew what the true definition was of his so called 'overtime’.

His compliment makes you want to cringe but instead you let out a bubbly laugh, “you’re too kind, you flatter me too much!”

“Come inside,” he beckoned, opening the door wide enough for you to walk through, yet narrow enough that you have to graze him as you do.

Placing a hand on the small of your back, he led you to a small table with wine in one of the corners of the large suite.

“How about you have a drink with me?” He offered. 

You shook your head with a smile, “You already know I don't drink Moon-sik, but thank you.”

It was a lie. However, you liked to stay sober during these appointments so you had gotten into the habit of telling your clients that. Albeit some men may have looked too meek to try anything, you could never be too cautious. Wolves often like to hide in sheep clothing after all.

Although you did allow sexual services to some extent, as it usually came with a higher pay, you also had a strict rule of going all the way. Sex was something that was very important to you. So no matter how much you needed the money from this job, there was only so much you were willing to sacrifice.

After finishing updating you on his life and two glasses of wine, you noticed the familiar thin glaze over Moon-sik’s eyes begin to take form. You mentally prepared yourself for what you knew would come next.

Cheeks flushed, he slurred, “How about sucking me off, princess?”

You wanted to puke a little in your mouth but you agreed nonetheless.

Trying your hardest to disassociate yourself from the situation, you pulled your hair back with a coy smile and got on your knees.

-

The second you got home, you barely just managed to take off your heels before rushing towards the washroom.  You brushed at your teeth and tongue violently, trying to get rid of every last bit of his release. Tears were brimming at the corner of your eyes but you didn’t allow them to fall until you were under the shower-head. You might’ve just used your mouth, but your entire body felt dirty. You scrubbed hard against your skin until it turned a rosy tint. After drying your hair, you turned off the lights and slumped against the mattress of your bed. You felt better. 

You’re not sure how much time must have passed as you stared mindlessly at the ceiling. You needed to stay strong for your mother. Surely, knowing what you were doing for money would only worsen her condition, but it was necessary. Perhaps, if it was just the hospital bill, a regular job would have sufficed but there were too many costs to account for.

Not all of the men were bad, you told yourself, trying to make light of the situation. Your clients didn’t all request sexual services, some truly did just buy your time for your company. The only time meetings with those clients didn’t sit well with you was when you heard the words, “I wish I could stay but my wife is waiting for me at home.” It wasn’t something out of the ordinary to hear but it always tugged at your conscious. Their wives should’ve been the ones to provide them with comfort and company, not you. You’re not sure when you managed to fall asleep but you did.  

-

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of your buzzing phone. You squinted at the sunlight pouring through the blinds hitting your eyes. Disoriented from having just woken up, you felt around your bed for your phone. Looking at the screen, you frowned a bit upon seeing who was calling.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked as you swiped to answer.

“There’s a new client asking for you.”  You heard the voice of your boss say.

You tilted your head to the side a little surprised, “New?”

Lately, you had  only been receiving calls from regulars. You couldn’t help but be a little interested at the thought of meeting someone new. Maybe you’d get lucky with this one. Maybe he wasn’t old; Maybe he didn’t have a wife; Maybe he did truly only want your company. You laughed at yourself internally, how ridiculous.

“It’s his first time,” Namjoon, or RM as he liked to go by, expanded.

Your eyebrows raised at that, “That’s a little nerve wracking. I’ve never been a client’s first.”

“I think you’ll be fine. You’ve been doing this for a year now, you have more than enough experience,” he tries to reassure you, “but you know I’d never force you to meet with anyone you didn’t want to. Your safety and wellbeing is always my top priority.”

It was true. Namjoon cared about all his escorts; he was one of the few agents that put his escorts above the clients. He was kind, and because of that all of them had a strong sense of loyalty to him. You had nothing against him personally, you just couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop whenever he texted or called since it was always about business.

You bit your lip with a slight nod, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Great! Keep your evening free, I’ll text you more details later.”

Just as you hung up, your phone lit up with another call. It was your friend this time.

“Y/N!” You heard your friend, Jiwoo, exclaim over the phone after picking up.

A smile tugged at your lips, she seemed to be in a good mood. “Hey, Jiwoo! Ho-?”

“Why didn’t you answer any of my texts last night?” She cut you off and playfully whined and you laughed a bit. If only she knew.

“Ah, sorry! I was really busy catching up on assignments,” You apologized. Lying and finding fake excuses had become a second nature, “Why? Did something happen?”

“No, no it was nothing important! Haeun and I just wanted to know if you wanted to join us on a group date.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Oh? When is it?” You weren’t particularly interested in dating but meeting with guys that were actually your age for once would be refreshing.

“Tonight!” She said and you felt your face drop.

“Oh no, I actually can’t tonight. I planned on visiting my mom in the hospital,” you explained, hoping she could hear the evident disappointment in your voice. You were always flaking, you felt bad.

She didn’t seem to mind though, “That’s okay. You can just come with us another time! Your mom is important, I hope she’s doing well!”

After hanging up, you made yourself look decent and head to the hospital your mom was being looked after at. You hadn’t lied to your friend, you really were going to see your mom today.

Upon arriving to her room, like always, a wave of emotion hit you. You suddenly felt like crying seeing your mom’s pale frail figure lying on the bed unconscious. She had been in a coma for about a year now. The doctors had said it was a result due to large amounts of stress and that it wouldn’t last long but they were wrong. They kept telling you she’d wake up soon but you weren’t so sure she would. Perhaps it was better that way. At least she could finally rest. After your father left, she could barely get any sleep. Pulling a chair up beside her, you held her hand gently. 

An hour must’ve passed when your phone chimed. Pulling your hand from your mother’s, you pulled your phone out from your purse. You unlocked it after you saw Namjoon’s name in the notifications.

Namjoon: He says he wants to meet you at 8 tonight if you’re available.

You: Yeah, that works. How long was he looking for me to stay?

Namjoon: He specifically told me to ask you if 3 hours was okay?

You: Yeah sounds good.

That was funny. Customers rarely took what you wanted into account.

Namjoon: I’ll send Hoseok to pick you up at 7:00. Remember to call me if anything happens.

You:  I will, thank you! Oh! Does he have a preference for clothing...or?

Namjoon: He didn’t say so just go with your gut.

-

It was already 6:10 by the time you got home. Walking towards your closet, you opened it up to reveal a notable amount of lavish clothing items you had acquired over the year as part of the job. You eyed each dress carefully; Namjoon had given you little information on your new client. You pulled out one of your favourite black dresses finally having decided, that it would be better to play it safe. You were in the process of making a last curl when you heard your phone ring. You didn’t have to look to know that it was Hoseok. Quickly grabbing a pair of heels and your purse, you began making your way downstairs.

“How’s your day been? How many appointments are scheduled for tonight?” You asked Hoseok as you pulled out a compact mirror to make sure your makeup was in check.

“Four as of now, but you know things could always change,” he answered. “So a new client? Are you nervous?”

You nodded your head, “Kind of. It doesn’t help that Namjoon told me nothing about him other than the fact that he was new to our services.”

“I heard he’s a CEO,” you hear him say. You raise a brow in question wondering what else he knew, even though he couldn’t see with his eyes on the road.   

However, he must have sensed it as he shrugs his shoulders, “I happened to overhear their conversation. I couldn’t really gauge the man’s age but I don’t think he’s too old.  Anyways, enough about that. How’s your mom?”

“A little better, I think.”

“That’s good! Have they said anything else regarding her recovery?”

“Not really. They just told me that everyone’s recovery time is different.”

He turns his head and gives you a sympathetic smile, “From what you’ve told me, she sounds like a strong person. Don’t worry, too much.”

-

You could tell you were getting close when Hoseok began to pay closer attention to the GPS. Sitting in silence, he drove up a long driveway, passing a string of trees on both sides. As you reached the top you couldn’t help it as your eyes widened. You had seen your fair share of luxurious houses but this beautiful Spanish hacienda style estate had to have been one of your new favourites.

“Wow,” you heard Hoseok say and you just silently nodded your head in agreement.

“What company is he the CEO of that he can afford such an extravagant home?” You wonder out loud.

“I’m not sure. Now get moving, we’re a bit late. Remember to give me a call if you need me to pick you up. Also, don’t be nervous. You have a wonderful personality, I’m sure you’ll charm him in no time.”

You flashed him a quick smile in gratitude before you got out of the car and began making your way up a path of stones. As you came face-to-face with the door, you paused to take a deep breath before you rung the bell.

As the door is drawn back, you are met with a surprisingly young face, “Ms.______?” The young man with shaggy brown hair, asked.

You nodded and he beckoned you to follow him, “The young master is in his study right now taking care of some paperwork, but he’ll be right with you. Is there anything I could get you to drink in the meantime?”

“Just water would be nice. Thank you,” you tell him as you took a look around what seemed to be a living room, still in awe by all the luxury.

When the young man returned with your glass,  you couldn’t help but ask, “Are you a butler?”

“Yes.”

“But you look so young! How old are you if you don’t mind me asking?”

“22.” The age surprised you, he was only 3 years older than you.

You noticed that he is quite curt with his words but you didn’t mind, “What’s your name?”

“I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to respond to that.”

You were about to reassure him you heard a silky laugh from behind you, “Go ahead Taehyung. I’ve told you countless times before, there’s no need to be so formal.”

Your head involuntary whipped around, curious to finally see your new client for the first time. It was nearly impossible for you to not show the shock in your features. There was no way. The man standing before you couldn’t be the client. He looked just as young as Taehyung, you had never been hired by someone as young as him.  

“But sir-”

The young man raised a finger, “I’ve spent more time with you than I have with my own family, please call me Jungkook already.”

With that said, your client finally turned to look at you and gave you an award winning smile, “I’m so sorry for the late introduction, I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said a little meekly, taken aback by the man. He looked incredibly handsome leaning against the archway with his mussed hair, tailored fitted suit and loosened tie.

“Is that all you’re having to drink?” He pointed his chin towards the glass in your hand.

“I don’t drink any alcohol actually,” you told your usual lie.  

His eyes widened just a fraction, a little surprised before he nods, “That’s admirable. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same. Taehyung, do you mind bringing me a glass of my 2005 Château Pétrus?”

“Right away si-,” Jungkook gave him a pointed look and Taehyung quickly corrected himself, “Jungkook.”

After his departure, you watched as Jungkook took a seat on the couch across from you. “So,” he drew the word out as he crossed his legs, “what’s a young, attractive woman with so much potential like yourself doing this type of job for?”

Your eyes narrowed a little, “What’s a young, rich, successful, handsome man like yourself doing paying someone for their company? I imagine there’d be a line up of well respectable ladies waiting to have a chance with you.”

“You’re not wrong.” You nearly scoffed at his lack of modesty. “All they ever really want is my money.” He continued, “that and whatever power might come from being with me.”

“Couldn’t the same be said for us escorts?” You countered.

A small smile played on his lips, “At least you’re honest about it. I’d much rather have someone be honest about using me for money than someone deceitful who feels the need to lie to attain what she wants.”

It was at that moment that Taehyung returned with the glass of wine and placed it on a coaster beside Jungkook. His job now done, “Please call me if there’s anything else you need.” He said before bowing and leaving.

Checking the density, Jungkook swished the wine around before he taking a sip. Once he returned his attention to you, “I’ve answered your question. Now, it’s only fair that you answer mine.”

You hesitated as you contemplated just how much you wanted to tell him. “I need the money for personal reasons,” you shrugged your shoulders not caring to expand and you could tell he’s still curious but let the subject drop.

He nodded, “can I propose something?”

You were a bit nervous about what it’d be but you agreed anyways.

He took another sip of his wine and your eyes were naturally drawn to his bobbing Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Eyes catching yours, you quickly averted your gaze a little embarrassed about being caught. You didn’t want to openly gawk, it’d only feed his ego, but it was kind of hard not to. You could not deny the fact that he was incredibly handsome.

“How about we play a game of 20 questions? I think it’d be nice if we could get to know each other a bit more, as I intend on buying your time again. That is, if you’re willing to see me again?”

A small hue of rosy pink tinged your cheeks. You hated to admit it, but you were flattered. Hearing someone of his caliber indirectly tell you that they enjoyed your company made you feel bashful.

“I am.”

You see his lips curve into a small smirk and you couldn’t help but want to slap the look off his face. He had asked knowing what your answer would be. He was a lot cockier than you initially thought.

“How about two questions per meeting?” You negotiated not wanting to give him the satisfaction of completely playing along. It was then that you decided that you’d reveal as little about yourself as you could.  You didn’t want to get more involved with this man than you needed to.

“Sounds fair. I’ll go first. Do you have a boyfriend?”

The question threw you off guard. You didn’t know why, but for some reason you had not expected him to ask you that. At least, not ask you that as his first question. He was staring at you intently waiting for you to respond.

You shook your head, “No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“That’s two questions.  Are you sure you really want to know the answer to that?” You decided to tease him a little.

“Yes, you’ve only increased my curiosity now.”

“I don’t,” you answered truthfully. You could tell he was a little disappointed by the anticlimax but he nodded towards you, signalling your turn.

You tilted your head to the side a bit as you wondered what to ask, “can I ask anything?”

“That counts as a question.”

“W-what! How is that even fair?”

“There’s the second one,” he smiled slyly at you.

You sat there at loss for words. Was he serious?

“Yes, I’m serious.” He said as if having read your mind, “and as for the answers, yes you can and what you did to mine wasn’t fair so I guess we can say we’re even now.” There was a playful glint in his eyes and a shadow of a laugh on his lips, you couldn't help it as a smile teased your lips. He looked like a little kid.

-

Just like that, time seemed to fly by. You didn’t even notice when you hit the 3 hour mark. If it had not been for the small buzz from your phone, you would have completely let it slip by. You had genuinely enjoyed being in his company. That was something you could not say about the majority of clients. If not for the envelope full of money on the side table, you could have easily passed the evening off as two friends hanging out. That was far from realistic though. He wasn’t someone you could meet if you weren’t an escort. The thought saddened you a bit but you quickly push it away.

“I nearly didn’t notice the time.” He said, drawing you back from your thoughts, “three hours seemed to pass a lot faster than I thought they would.”

You nodded in agreement before standing from your chair and bending down to grab your purse. As you rise you catch him looking at you and without thinking you fixed your dress. You give him an awkward smile and reach a hand out for a handshake, “it was a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” he said taking your hand but his hold lingers, “a handshake seems far too formal don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows raised at that, “then how do you suppose I say good-bye?”

The playful glint returned, “how about with a hug? That is, if you don’t mind.”

You drew your hand back, thinking about what you should do. A hug wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t as if he was asking you to go to bed with him, so why did it make you so nervous? You shouldn’t, you silently scolded yourself. It’d be bad if you were to become emotionally attached to him.

You shook your head with an apologetic smile, “maybe next time.”

You couldn’t tell if he’s disappointed or not but you tried not to think about it. After handing you the envelope he bids you goodbye and heads upstairs. You were watching his retiring back when Taehyung came to escort you outside.

“Is your ride here, miss?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Not yet.” You told him, taking a look at your phone again.

Hoseok: I’m running a little late! I’ll be there in 5. Sorry!

“Shall I wait with you then?” The butler offered.

“If it’s not too much trouble. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Did you have a pleasant evening with the youn-I mean Jungkook?” He asked and you couldn’t help but laugh a little when he corrected himself.

“Is it really that hard to call him by his name? You take your job really seriously, I admire that.”

He nodded, “We’re trained to treat our employer with the utmost respect at all times...but that’s not why I try to do my best at this job. I genuinely enjoy serving Jungkook. He has done a lot for me in that past so I’m glad I can repay his kindness if only by this much.”

It was natural to assume that they had spent a lot of years together. You kind of envied him, Jungkook genuinely interested you and as much as you tried to deny it, you wanted to know more about him.

“I think Jungkook had a good time,” he commented.

“Oh?”

He shared a small smile, “he doesn’t often have company. He has a tendency to isolate himself with his work, I don’t think he even realizes that he does it.  I’m very thankful you brightened his mood. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him genuinely have a good time.”

Curiosity stirred at his words but before you could inquire more, you noticed a stream of headlights making their way up the driveway.

“That must be your ride.” He observed, “then, I bid you goodnight.” With that he gave you a small bow and returned inside.

That night, you were restless.  You tossed and turned in your sheets as you kept replaying the events of the night in your head.

-

As the days passed, your meetings with Jungkook became more and more frequent. The remaining questions were quickly used up on shallow topics like hobbies and interests,  never going into anything personal. You each had subconsciously placed boundaries. At first, it started with only two to three days a week but that soon turned into all five days. As the weeks went by, they  turned into months, until one day it seemed as if he was your only client.

“Jungkook, you’re ridiculous! How could you buy every single one of my days?” You asked a bit incredulous, “don’t you get tired of having me around?”

He chuckled as his eyes catched yours, “never.”

You felt your heart flutter and you looked away, “a lot of my regulars have been complaining about my lack of availability.”

“They should just get a new escort,” he shrugged not in the least bit apologetic.

You may have been an escort but   you never truly felt like you were on the job when you were with Jungkook. Over the past year you had become just a shadow of who you used to be. However, ever since meeting Jungkook, you often found that it was one of the few times you truly felt like your old self again.

“You know,” he started, “it’s been awhile since we last played our question game.“

You nodded, “we each only have 2 questions left if I remember correctly.”

“Do you want to go first or should  I?” He asked, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. He had the same playful glint you had seen during your first meeting with him.  You sensed a hidden motive but played along anyways.

“You can go first.” You offered, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Why don’t you go all the way with your clients?”

You nearly dropped the glass you were about to take a sip from, ““w-what?”

It seemed he had a talent for surprising you. Not once after the first meeting  had anything even remotely close to your sexual services been mentioned. Why now? You couldn’t help but wonder.

He let out a laugh, “what a strong reaction. I am actually curious though,” his laugh turned into a challenging smile, “but if you’re not comfortable you don’t have to answer.””

“No, it’s okay.” You said trying to recover from your initial surprise. You had no qualms about telling him,“Sex is something that is very important to me. For me, the feeling of becoming one with someone is a deep emotional connection that I only really want to share with someone I love or at least have feelings for.” As you finished explaining, you searched his face for any type of reaction but he was hard to read.

“It has nothing to do with how attractive the man is?”

You tilted your head to the side, “what do you mean?”

Staring intently at you he expanded, “I’m just wondering if you’d be more willing if the man was attractive.”

You hesitated, not wanting to sound superficial, “wouldn’t anyone though? I mean, a lot of my clients are a lot older than I am and are not particularly what I’d consider handsome. So, I guess if I was going to break my rule, I’d prefer it to be with someone I found attractive.”

“What about me then, do you find me attractive?” He asked with a cocky grin. You were sure that there wan not one person that would find him unattractive. You knew he knew that too, he just wanted you to admit it yourself.

You were quick to recover,“that’s three questions Jungkook.”

“Come on, humour me. Would you have sex with me?”

For the second time that day, you were caught off guard. Of course you would. Who in their right mind wouldn’t? But that was the last thing you were going to tell him, “that’s four Jungkook. It’s my turn.”

He sighed but nodded anyways, “fine. Go ahead.”

You decided to direct his questions back at him, “do you find me attractive?”

There was no visible change of emotion on his face, but you noticed the slight tightening of his hold on his wine glass.

“I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t,”  was his answer and you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about that.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You asked boldly and this time you saw his eyes visibly widen.

“Yes,” he answered with no hesitation, his pupils dilated.

You were at loss for words not having expected him to answer so honestly. An awkward silence settled among the two of you.

You were mentally screaming at yourself to say something when he suddenly cleared his throat, “well I guess it’s about time you head home.”

You glanced at the clock. He was right. Your time slot was over but you were reluctant to leave. You were confused. You didn’t know what you wanted. As much as you had tried to hide it, you had come to harbour  feelings for him. You wanted him to take you to bed but you knew that if that were to happen you’d become dangerously attached. He didn’t feel anything for you though, it would only end badly. You wanted him but you also didn’t want to have your feelings trampled on. They were better kept hidden.

As you grabbed your purse and moved to leave, he caught your hand placing the familiar envelope in it.

“Your payment,” he said and you frowned a bit. All he saw you was as an escort after all. You had allowed a small glimmer of hope but you had already known. So, why did it hurt so much?

Like always, Taehyung came to walk you out. You could feel Jungkook’s eyes on your back but before you could even make it to the door he spoke again, “actually Taehyung you can retire early. There’s still something I need to discuss with Y/N.”

Taehyung glanced between the two of you, sensing the atmosphere and quickly bowed leaving the two of you alone again.

You knew that he wanted to continue the conversation, but you decided to feign ignorance, “what is it?”

“Do you have another client tonight?” He asked.

You shook your head, “no. Like I told you, you’ve been my only client for awhile now.”

One of the corner of his lips lifted at that, “do you have somewhere you need to be tonight?”

Once again, you shook your head, “no.”

After uttering the word ‘no’, he began to stalk towards you making you draw back. Eventually your back hit the nearest wall, you were left with no more room to escape him.

“Jungkook, what’s this about?” You asked a little nervously.

His eyes were similar to that of a predator, “you know very well what this is about. You’ve been teasing me since the first day we met.”

Your eyes widened, “w-what?!” You’d been teasing him? Since when?

“Don’t act innocent. That little short tight dress you wore the first time we met barely covered your ass. You looked so good. I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that day.”

His confession shocked you, “J-jungkook you know I don’t have sex with my clients. I’ve told you this before.”

He places a hand on each side of your head, caging you in between him and the wall, ”You have. So as long as we don't go all the way it's fine, right?”

He was so close now that your breaths mingled together. You could feel your cheeks flush at the proximity. Your eyes wandered admiring the curve of his jaw, the shape of his eyes. Everything about him made you lose your breath. He really was handsome.

He boldly ran the back of one of his fingers down your cheek, lowering it down to your throat, until that hand came to rest on your waist. Everywhere he touched, you felt as if your skin had been set aflame.

He leaned in closer, his breath now fanning your ear, “I know you want this, just as much as I do Y/N.”

You began to feel heat pooling between your legs. He was right. He was so right. Without realizing you had begun rubbing your thighs together to get some sort of relief. Just him expressing that he wanted you was enough to get you all hot and bothered.

The action didn't go unnoticed by Jungkook. A smirk graced his face and you wanted nothing at that moment than to wipe it off his face but before you could do anything he slid a leg in between yours, pinning both your arms above your head. Only a thin layer of clothes separated your core from his thigh and you were having a hard time resisting.

You were powerless when it came to Jungkook. You really were. You knew that you’d regret this later but you had  felt your resolve beginning to weaken from the second he had stopped you from leaving. You knew you were far too gone to protest any longer and when he flexed his thigh rubbing against your scantily clad core you couldn’t help it as a moan passed your lips.

You see the smirk from earlier re-emerge before he leans down, finally closing the distance between your lips.

The kiss was fierce, full of want and lust and you easily found yourself lost in it. You struggled wanting to circle your hands around his neck but his hold on your arms wouldn't budge. Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he deepened the kiss but he suddenly pulled away leaving you breathless.

You raised your eyes to him in a silent question and you could tell he was just as much out of breath as you were, “can I take that as a yes?”

“Let go of my arms,” is your only response and once he does they're already circling around his neck drawing him close for another kiss. He took that as your answer and in no time your legs were around his waist, his hands under your thighs, your back against the wall.

The kiss turned fervent and your want for him only grew. Eventually disconnecting your lips, he began to pepper kisses down your jaw, eventually making his way down your neck. Finding a particularly sensitive spot, you let out a breathy moan and he takes a nip making you squirm against his hold.

“Take off your shirt for me,” he ordered and in no time, the material hit the floor, your bra soon following. Your rosy buds hardened, the cool chill of the house felt nice against your heated skin.

“Fuck,” you heard Jungkook mutter as he draws back to admire your generous chest.  He then moved down to kiss a line from your throat to your breasts, pausing to lick a stripe through the valley of your breasts. As he took one of your nipples into his mouth sucking, tugging slightly at the bud, you felt your hands move on their own and tangle themselves in his hair

He had just moved his attention to your other one when your patience began to wore thin, “Jungkook I need more.”

“Tell me exactly what you want, use your words baby.” He said, eyes pools of black, full of unadulterated lust. Your cheeks burned but you knew he wasn't going to budge until you complied.

“I want you to fuck me with your mouth, your fingers, fuck,” you find yourself saying, head thrown back against the wall as he rolls his hips against yours.

His devilish smirk did little to calm the fire burning in your stomach, “I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth on you.”

Letting your thighs drop, he flipped you against the wall but just as he’s about to push your skirt down, you both hear buzzing. Your attention is drawn at its insistence and you turn back around. It was as if someone had splashed cold water on you. Awakened from the daze, you saw Hoseok’s name light up the screen of your phone. You had completely forgotten that he had been waiting outside for you.

“Just Ignore it,” Jungkook said in a slight growl and it took everything in you to deny him.

Shaking your head, “sorry I have to go.” You quickly pulled back on your bra and shirt and nearly tripped in your rush to get outside. You hadn’t even glanced at Jungkook once, scared of what expression his face might of held.

The second you were inside the car you apologized to Hoseok but he just gave a questioning glance at your disheveled appearance.

“Nothing happened,” is all you say and you’re not sure who you’re  trying to convince more, him or yourself.

[meltingalphabet]

You don't know what you've got till it's gone

Would you describe yourself as spoiled?

My pencil glided over the paper, a smooth trail of graphite following. With a satisfying scratch, I circled “No.” The smell of fresh paper and pencil shavings took me back to high school. Before I was an adult. Before I knew how difficult life could get.

Would you describe your close friends as spoiled?

I hesitated.

First there was Meredith. Meredith, whose parents made damn sure she never endured hardship. Who paid for her Ivy League degree out of pocket and financed extended trips abroad in the name of their only child’s self discovery. Who owned the luxury apartment Meredith called her own. Who nested her in the comfort of unearned extravagance.

Meredith is an artist, they’d say. Meredith is a tortured soul who needs freedom to work on her novel without the hideous distraction of a 9 to 5. She is a creative who cannot be caged by the struggle of the common folk, but must sit and be and think and ponder and write and give a voice to the common folk and their struggle.

Then there was Erica. Erica, who glided by on her looks. Who didn’t have to work on her personality because she didn’t need one. Who could be rude without consequence. Her instincts unchecked, her id free to roam. Why would she think about you when everyone won’t stop thinking about her? It’s not inconsiderate if there’s nothing to consider. If she forgot who you were, you should’ve made yourself more memorable.

I circled “Yes.”

My eyes scanned the last question.

On a scale of 1-10 with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

What did I have? A shitty job, a tiny overpriced apartment. Jiggly upper arms, frizzy hair. My hand hovered over the 4. Robert’s warm smile. His soft kisses.

Sighing, I circled 8. I had a shelter, a stable relationship, a loving family. Life was good. Even if other people had it better than me.

Around me were 11 other people seated at small identical desks completing short identical surveys. Different shapes and sizes, ages and races. All completely forgettable.

A woman in her mid twenties sat at the front of the room poking at a tablet. She wore a neat expensive looking grey sweater. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The desk she sat at was modern but simple, the desktop empty but for a plain water bottle. Both the desk and woman looked like they were from an IKEA catalog. Generic but tidy, desirable but empty.

I walked towards her, my completed survey in hand. She looked up from her tablet with a small smile and gestured to the corner of the desk.

Her voice was smooth but neutral. “Thank you, Laurie.”

I placed my answers face down beside her, completing the nostalgic experience of taking a quiz.

“Please proceed to the waiting room. We will get you once it has been processed.”

Not wanting to make additional noise, I nodded and smiled at her, but she was already looking back at her screen.

An hour later I sat in front of another tasteful but bland desk. Dr. Howden scanned the tablet in front of him, his fingertips pressed together.

Finally, he looked up at me. “Thank you for participating in our study, Ms. Cartland. We here at the Galvin Institute depend on volunteers such as yourself.”

I smiled. $300 to come fill out a survey, yeah no problem mister.

“Of course.” I said politely.

“We’d like to invite you to continue as a participant. The study is 6 days and pays $900 a day, along with a $1,000 signing bonus.”

My mouth fell open. “Sorry, how much?”

Dr. Howden’s smile tightened. “At the completion of the study you will have been awarded $6,400.”

I quickly calculated the cost of my morals. Is it worth $6,400 to inject myself with something that would make me lose all my hair? I shrugged internally. It’ll grow back. Probably. There’s always wigs.

“Is the study risky?”

“Oh no, not at all. All we ask of you is to answer 3 simple questions every day.”

“You just want me to answer questions?”

Dr. Howden opened one of the desk drawers and placed a tablet in front of me. It was identical to both his and the woman from the study’s.

“The Galvin Institute will provide you with this tablet for the duration of the study. Every night at 6pm it will notify you to answer three simple questions. You will then have an hour to answer them. Once your answers are submitted, $900 will be directly deposited into your bank account.”

He looked at me over his wire frames. “Do you accept?”

My heart thudded in my chest. “What happens if I answer incorrectly?”

He smiled again. “The questions are subjective, so there is no wrong answer.”

I bit my lip, looking down at the desktop in front of me. There must be a catch. There’s always a catch. Hesitant to accept his insane offer without some sort of probing, I looked back up. “Can I opt out at any time?”

His smile faltered for a moment before he continued. “Of course, but you will forfeit all payment up to that point.”

I picked up the tablet and examined it. On the back was a subtle green logo with the initials “GI” in a pyramid.

Dr. Howden continued. “The focus of this study is appreciation and gratitude. The questions are designed to encourage self reflection.”

I nodded, “sounds easy.”

“It is!” He said, turning his own tablet towards me to reveal an electronic contract. He held out a thin stylus. “Oh, and please note that your tablet is programmed to only ask the questions and cannot be used for any other purpose.”

The drag of the stylus was smooth and frictionless as I signed my name.

“Thank you, Ms. Cartland. We look forward to working with you here at the Galvin Institute.”

“This has to be a scam.” Robert said, his beer hovering in front of his mouth as he eyed the tablet resting on the table beside us. We had both tried playing with it, but the screen would only illuminate to show a timer counting down to 6pm. No games, no other screens.

I shrugged. “The building was super nice and it all seemed on the up and up. I doubt they’re going to try and use my information to drain my bank account or something. Besides,” I rested my hand on his, “it’s for the wedding.”

He sighed. “You know, you’ve got to stop pushing that.”

I stuck my tongue out at him teasingly.

A loud electric jingle made me jump. The screen of the tablet was now bright white. Black font was neatly written across at the top.

I picked it up as Robert stood to look over my shoulder. On the screen was a question:

What was something bad that happened to you today?

Other than applying for the study my day had been pretty uneventful. I clicked my tongue thoughtfully before answering.

Nothing.

A circle appeared at the bottom right corner that read “submit.” I pressed it and the second question appeared:

What was something good that happened to you today?

I smiled.

Dinner with my boyfriend.

Robert kissed my head as I hit submit.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

The numbers 1 through 10 were beneath in small circles. I felt Robert’s warmth beside me and pressed “9.”

The tablet made a small chime as the words “Thank you!” jumped on screen. Little bits of blue and yellow confetti fell around it before the screen went black again.

My blood vibrated hot beneath my skin as I excitedly logged into my bank’s mobile app. My checking account was, indeed, two grand larger.

“Not a bad day’s work.” Robert said as he returned to his seat.

I woke up the next morning to the shrill sound of my phone ringing. I looked at the clock. 9:31am.

“Ugh, fuck you!” I groaned at the ceiling. I closed my eyes tightly before opening them again, my room slowly focusing around me. Without looking I reached over and yanked it from it’s charger. My phone’s screen was filled with the smiling face of Meredith. I groaned again as I answered.

“Dude, it’s Saturday. What...” A high pitched squeal interrupted me.

“Random House bought my book!!!”

I sat bolt upright. “Sorry, what?”

“Random House, Laurie. Fucking Random House!!”

The meaning of her words slowly dawned on me through the cloud of sleep.

“Random House the publisher bought your book?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yes!! Ah, we need to get coffee NOW!”

Thirty minutes later I sipped my latte while Meredith regaled me with the story.

“I thought it was really weird when they scheduled a meeting first thing Saturday morning, but you know? It’s Random House, so I couldn’t say no! Apparently one of their agents saw some of the chapters I published online and fell in love!! They’re offering me a $20,000 advance!”

I choked on the warm liquid running down my throat.

“I know, right!?” Meredith squealed.

“Twenty grand!?” The words came from my mouth violently as I tried to regain control of my breath. “Twenty grand for your first novel!?”

Meredith nodded, beaming.

“It’s not even done!”

“Oh, I know! I know! But you know what, I think this is really going to help motivate me to finish! My skin is tingling with creative juices!”

Your skin is tingling with $20,000. I bit back my tongue and gave her a weak smile.

“Congratulations Meredith. That’s awesome.”

Meredith and I met in college. We were both wannabe novelists, both women, both freshmen, and both living in Andrews Hall. We didn’t become friends because we connected artistically, we became friends because it was easy.

While I had thrived in school, Meredith had coasted. She graduated because she went to most of her classes and turned in most of her homework. Like our friendship, she succeeded because she didn’t fail.

After graduation I got a job in publishing as a lowly editorial assistant. I was paid the bare minimum to review encyclopedias written by retired middle school teachers. It sucked but it was a job. Without it, I’d be homeless.

Meredith was a trust fund kid. I was not.

I made a point of working on my novel for at least three hours every week. I was 60,000 words deep into a dramatic look at the repression of women in the early 19th century through the eyes of Charlotte, a lowly chambermaid working for a handsome but distant oil tycoon. Meredith, on the other hand, would write a few pages when the mood struck. Since graduating, we met monthly to discuss our progress and keep each other motivated, but more often than not the night would devolve into expensive drinks at bars filled with men with shirts inexplicably half unbuttoned. And while I woke up regretting all my decisions and trying not to vomit in my cubicle trash can, she’d remain untouched. She’d wake up at noon to order pizza and watch a marathon of shitty reality shows about overly dramatic rich people who also didn’t have any responsibilities.

Meredith’s novel, smartly titled A Rabbit Disturbed, was about an evil toy bunny that traumatizes a young boy. Imagine if Stephenie Meyer wrote a novel adaptation of The Velveteen Rabbit after watching the entire Chucky canon while on acid. Oh, and Miss Meyer also doesn’t know what a rabbit is.

The three chapters I read, the only three Meredith had bothered to write, were so bad that my main criticism was towards our college for giving her a degree in creative writing.

But maybe I was being pretentious. Maybe I just didn't understand Meredith's genius. I took another swallow of my latte as she planned out the evening’s celebratory activities as if planning a bachelorette party.

I was in a bar bathroom when the tablet chimed. I steadied myself against the sink before pulling it from my bag.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

It was early but my mind was already drenched in vodka. I definitely wasn’t happy. I had thought drinking would make me feel more euphoric, would let me get caught up in Meredith’s excitement, but instead I felt ineffectual and ignored. I thought of my novel and the stupid melodramatic character that I had poured all my creativity into for the past two years. I was miserable. Frustrated and defeated.

But what was I going to write? That one of my oldest friends had succeeded?

If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. With my bare fingertip I rubbed my answer against the screen.

Nothing.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I gritted my teeth.

Nothing.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

I pressed “3” without much thought and dropped the tablet back into my bag as the bright “Thank you!” lit up the screen.

I woke up Sunday with a pounding headache. I looked at my phone to see several Facebook and Instagram notifications. All likes and comments on the many celebratory photos I was tagged in, all congratulating Meredith. I let my phone fall from my hand as I turned over, allowing myself to sleep in.

The chime of the Galvin Institute tablet rang out as I sat on my couch mindlessly watching tv.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

It was an innocent question. At least, it seemed innocent. And yet I felt a pang of frustration. Meredith was still riding the high of the best day of her life while I sat there very consciously not working on my novel. Robert was busy with his family all night, leaving me alone to wallow in my self-pity.

I wrote “hangover” before clicking submit.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I lifted the stylus, preparing to write “nothing,” but stopped short. This was a study of gratitude and here I was with absolutely none. I thought of Dr. Howden reading my responses. Judging them.

I got to sleep in.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

I pushed thoughts of Meredith out of my head as I surveyed my apartment. It was small and sparsely furnished, but the walls were lined with well read novels. I hugged my soft throw and took a sip of my tea, letting the worth flood down into my stomach. Ignoring the split second of burning at the back of my throat that told me it was still too hot to drink that fast. Feeling as if I had thoroughly experienced a moment of mindful appreciation, I pressed the tip of the stylus against the 7 with a sense of accomplishment. I was rising above my disappointment and struggle.

Dr. Howden would be proud.

My phone vibrated and I was surprised to see a text message from Robert’s mother.

Hi Laurie! Happy early birthday! Are you and Robbie free next weekend to come over for a birthday dinner?

I scrunched my eyebrows together. That’s odd. I guess Robert already went home.

Curious, I called him. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Oh hey, is this a good time?”

“Sorry babe, I’m still at my parents. Can I call you back afterwards?”

Icy fingers clasped around my heart. I swallowed.

“Oh, sure. Um, do you want to come spend the night when you’re done? I miss you.”

There was a pause before he continued. “Sorry, Laurie. I can’t tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The next morning I lay in bed feeling empty, worthless, and defeated.

I stared at my ceiling, trying to rationalize staying in the comfort and safety of my bed. What would happen if I just don’t go to work? I’m so unimportant. Would anyone even notice?

It was bagel Monday though. And I did like bagels.

Three hours later I sat at my desk regretting my decision. One of the other editorial assistants had called out sick and I was getting the brunt of my boss’ post-weekend wrath.

How fucking ironic, I thought as I scrolled past unread email after unread email. One email was three paragraphs of all caps red text berating me for the misspelling of Juan Ponce de León in an entry that was written and published five years before I was hired. I took a bite of my free bagel as I kept scrolling.

At lunch, Erica and I went to our favorite burger joint. Erica was an editor and close friend whose long blonde hair and curvy figure made her the center of attention more often than not. And she knew it. She could be narcissistic at times, but she could also be really sweet and what I needed that day was fried food and a friendly ear.

Her eyes lit up and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Maybe he’s ring shopping.” She whispered, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

I brought a french fry to my lips. I hadn’t thought of that. I put the fry back down on the plate untouched.

“You really think so?” I asked, butterflies fluttering low in my stomach.

She winked before taking a bite of her burger.

Returning to my cubicle, my high spirits were immediately dashed by an unread email marked important. The subject line was empty and only two words were written, all lowercase, in the body of the email: see me.

Harold Bradford sat behind his desk, the glow of his computer illuminating his glasses. He was a chubby man in his late fifties with wiry grey hair that wrapped around his head, leaving a round dome of perfectly hairless scalp in the middle.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, please sit down Ms. Cartland.” He said, his eyes never leaving the screen. “This will only take a minute.”

I sat down as he continued to tap at his keyboard. I pulled the hem of my skirt mindlessly as my eyes scanned the shelves of books behind him.

Finally, he looked up.

“Ms. Cartland, I asked you here to discuss your recent work performance.”

My stomach sank.

“Your work has been…” He tilted his head back, eyeing me through his thin spectacles. “Slipping.”

A heavy silence fell between us.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Mr. Bradford.” I stammered.

“You seem to think this job is... beneath you.” He sniffed. “And while your BFA from Dartmouth is quite impressive, your work here lately is not.”

“I understand.” I nodded, cringing at the waiver in my voice.  “I promise to work harder in the future.”

“There is no future, Ms. Cartland.”

I stared at him, mouth agape.

He turned back towards his computer, “Mrs. Littleton will explain your severance package.”

My body and mind was numb as I left his office.

The warm water lapped at my skin as I sat in the bathtub. A glass of white wine stood at the side of the tub, the half empty bottle on the floor. Robert had suggested that I could use this time to work on my novel, but I knew that was misguided. I needed to immediately focus all my attention on finding a job. Once that severance ran out, I wouldn’t be able to pay my rent, let along my bills or student loans. Oh sure, there’s forbearance but that’s just an ugly band aid. The interest would gather like bacteria in an infection, following me for the rest of my life.

The smell of Robert’s spaghetti and meatballs permeated the steam of the bathroom and I felt comforted slightly.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

I was fired.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I brought the stylus down, thinking I’d write something like, “my soon-to-be fiance was there for me,” but I hesitated. I thought of the phone call last night. The uneasy feeling that came with it.

Instead I wrote, “Bagel Monday.”

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

“Babe!”

The sound shook me and I jumped, cold water splashing around me.

“Babe, wake up!” I squinted to see Robert looking down at me.

“What happened?” I sat up and looked around. The wine glass had fallen from the tub, shattering on the tile floor.

“It’s okay, stay there.”

He left and I stood, grabbing my towel from the door and wrapping it around my shivering body. I must’ve been dreaming.

“What time is it?” I asked the empty room.

“Almost seven. You’ve been in there for almost two hours.”

Panic rose like an electric shot through my spine.  

“The tablet! Where’s the tablet!” I cried, jumping out of the bath. Glass cut into the bottom of my foot. “Ow, fuck!” I cried.

Robert appeared in the doorway holding a broom. “Laurie, stop! What are you doing?”

“The survey! The survey!” I pushed him out of the way, limping into the living room. “Where is it? Where’s my bag?”

Robert grabbed my arm. “Laurie you’re injured, stop!”

“$900!” I desperately pulled myself from his grasp, falling painfully to my knees. “$900!”

The alarm rang distantly from where my bag lay forgotten by the front door. I crawled towards it, shaking with sobs. I could hear Robert talking to me as I reached it, but his words were muffled and inconsequential. As I opened my bag my hands felt bloated and numb, as if I were wearing gloves. My fingers clasped around the hard familiar plastic and I pulled the tablet out.

4 seconds remained on the timer. Tears flooded my eyes as I poked desperately at the screen but it wouldn’t respond to my waterlogged touch.

“No, no, no.” The black digits counted down to 1 before dissolved into nothing.

A wave of despair crashed over me as I watched the numbers appear once again. 23:59:03. The seconds ticked down. Tiny insults adding to the bloody mess of my ego.

The next thing I remember was waking up late in the afternoon. My body was sore, my head foggy. A sharp pain radiated from my left foot and I wanted to cry, but there were no more tears.

There was a buzzing coming from my nightstand. I picked up my phone to see a new text message alert.

Hey babe

I stared at the words in confusion. Behind me I could hear the shower running. Robert hadn’t left. I saw the name at the top of the screen. “Erica.”

That’s odd. I opened the app to a chat I didn’t recognize. Messages I didn’t remember sending or receiving. I scrolled up to an image. It was a selfie of Erica, but she was wearing lingerie.

Realization hit like a cement brick. The phone in my hand wasn’t mine.

The shower stopped. My breaths grew short and ragged, catching in my throat in sharp gasps.

“Babe, are you okay?”

A shadow filled the door and approached me as my vision turned red.

I awoke on a hard, cold surface. I tried to move but my body screamed in pain. A bright light hurt my eyes as I slowly blinked them open. The room was grey and dingy. I sat up stiffly and looked in front of me at a wall of metal bars.

My head buzzed with questions, my eyes wide and seeing, no longer blinded or discomforted by the sudden light. Above me stood a police woman.

“Glad to see you finally awake, Ms. Cartland.”

“Wh-what happened? Where am I?” I tried to recall recent memories. The bath. My foot. Erica. Robert.

“We got a call about a domestic disturbance at your residence. You were found standing over your boyfriend's body, a pair of bloody scissors…”

The cop continued but the sound was eclipsed by a sharp ringing noise in my head. My brain buzzed with shock as I sat back against a wall, bringing my knees to my chest. The room began to spin and it felt like I was falling into the buzzing. Into the void of complete and utter surrender.

An electronic alarm echoed off the cement walls, shrill enough, and familiar enough, to burrow into my numb thoughts.

“It’s 6 o’clock, Ms. Cartland.”

I looked up to see the cop holding out the Galvin Institute’s tablet through the bars of the cell. I stared at it, uncomprehending.

“It’s time to take the survey.”

“What?” I looked at the cop, tears I didn’t think could exist forming at the corners of my eyes.

The cop cleared her throat and dropped her arm, the tablet hanging uselessly beside her.

“What was something bad that happened to you today?”

I looked at her with confusion and pain.

“What was something good that happened to you today?” The cop’s voice was flat and stiff. Robotic.

A sob broke out of my mouth violently. I clutched my hands to my ears, desperately trying to block out her voice.

“On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?”

I opened my mouth, a scream pouring from my throat like vomit, filling the small room.

Reality snapped around me, as if a door opened in a vacuum. The world sucked past my body as I ascended painfully to the heavens.

My eyes were assaulted once again with a bright light, but this light was softer. Cleaner. Nicer. I was in a white room, a simple desk in front of me. Behind it sat Dr. Howden.

“Thank you, Ms. Cartland, for your participation in the study.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled with a warm smile.

My breaths came to me in gasps. I looked around at the innocuous room. It was just like it had been days before.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Dr. Howden gave me a tight smile. “Only a few hours have passed since you completed your survey. You have been under electronic hypnosis. Since signing the contract none of your actions, or the actions of your loved ones, actually occurred. It was all…” he twirled his finger, “in your head. I gave you a slight sedative before you awoke to help the transition along. You should be feeling more…” He smiled, “relaxed soon.”

I nodded dumbly. The numbness weighing my body down was no longer raw and uncomfortable but calming.

“Now,” he said, sliding a tablet across the desk. “If you’d please sign these release forms, you can be on your way.”

My hand shook slightly as I reached out and drew a simple line across the center of the page.

“Very good. You may now be excused. Your designated contact is waiting in the lobby.”

I stood uncertainty and began to leave the room before he added, “oh and as I explained before, since you opted out prematurely you forfeit all reimbursement.”

My stomach tightened as I saw Robert. His face set in bored concentration as he scrolled through his phone. Feeling my stare, he looked up and smiled warmly. “Babe!” He stood and walked towards me, arms outstretched. “How did it go?”

I clenched my jaw as he brought me to his chest, his body pressed against mine. My skin grew hot with anger and my stomach turned with disgust, but the tranquilizer slowly quelled my hatred.

He hadn’t really cheated on me, had he?

Robert took me home and made me spaghetti, just like he had last night. Except last night never happened.

The next day was a normal Saturday. I had coffee with Meredith as she told me about a new guy she met. On Sunday I had dinner with Robert and his parents. Monday I nodded at Mr. Bradford’s requests and listened to Erica complain about her yearly review. Friday Robert took me out for my birthday and proposed.

My life is meaningless now. Trivial and petty. These people I once loved no longer feel real. Their lives are stupid and useless, filled with made up milestones to give the illusion that life is moving forward. That they are making progress.

I could no longer pretend to enjoy it, so I left. I don’t have a destination, but instead I’m letting my short life roll over me like the waves of an ocean. Massive and unknowable. It doesn’t matter where I am or where I end up. It’s all so permeable. All so temporary. Why bother clinging to something when it’s not really yours to begin with. And yet the questions still run through my mind.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

Nothing. Nothing bad happens anymore. Nothing happens anymore. Life passes. I exist. I question reality and then find I’m too tired to care.

What was something good that happened to you today?

Nothing. Objectively, nothing good has ever happened to me. It’s all a farce. Life is just a series of signals that our mind misinterprets as something organized and purposeful. And yet we run forward with abandonment, counting the seconds until there are no seconds left to count.

Tonight I’ve found myself somewhere in Pennsylvania. The red numbers of the clock illuminated 6:00.

The sky is a beautiful amber above the mountain tops.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

No longer applicable.

[ladye11e]

Deception pt 29

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

Tagging @geekgoddess813 @sweet-flash @ermergerd517 @i-wontgivein @imakemyownblog 💕

If anyone else would like a tag, shoot me a dm 😁

Link to the full fic so far is Here.

Your eyes fluttered open and you wiped the sheen of sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand as you sat up steadily, taking several deep breaths to slow the pounding in your chest, as it was beating as if you had just run a marathon.

Glancing around as you tried to push the disturbing images of Achilles' face when he realised you were a traitor out of your mind, you only just noticed that you were alone in the bed. Shuffling out to peek through the curtains and seeing it was still dark outside, you grabbed the dressing gown off the back of the door and plodded out in search of Shay. You spotted him quickly with his back to you at the dining table; engrossed in typing something, so you leant over and kissed him on the cheek, before sitting on the edge of the table next to where he was working.

"There you are. Feeling better?"

"Mmm, much. What are you still doing up?!"

"Still? It's ten o'clock." He stated, weaving his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

"Ten? Two whole hours sleep, great."

"No lass, ten on Monday. You've been passed out for over a day."

Your eyes widened as you grabbed his laptop and turned it to you, double checking what he had said as you had never slept for that long in your life. Looking around furiously when it finally sunk in, you went to jump up as your gaze finally landed on your bag, but Shays tightening grip around your middle prevented you from doing so. Cocking your head when he reached around his computer and fumbled about, you took your phone off him slowly when he handed it to you, extremely confused as to why a horde of assassins wasn't banging down the door right now.

"Guessing you're lookin' for this? Gist came over this morning and hacked into the chip, it's turned off now an ya don't need to put in that code. Should be glad I didn't throw it out the window, it's been going off non-stop."

Quickly unlocking it with your thumbprint, you dismissed the seven calls and flicked through the eighteen messages that were on there, grimacing when they were all from Jacob complaining about how Connor was being mean to him, making him exercise and eat green tree things with his dinner, and you needed to get him the hell out of there. You breathed a sigh of relief when you listened to the only voicemail you had, of Altäir sending a mass call to everyone saying that due to the circumstances everyone was allowed two days off to grieve and, were expected back in on Wednesday.

"Hmm, sorry about that. Most of it wasn't even important."

"I was only joking." He chuckled, pulling you down to kiss you gently. "Oh, I forgot to thank you yesterday, for gettin' the boss to give the room back. What did you do to get him to change his mind?"

Flicking through your phone one more time to use it as a distraction while you came up with a good excuse, you tossed it on the table and draped your arms over his shoulders, hoping you had come up with something believable, but would also give you a chance to pry slightly. You didn't want to lie, you even hated yourself for it, but it was better than the alternative.

"Nothing much, just made him realise he was being a complete idiot. Although..."

"Although..??"

Trailing off and furrowing your brow, you scratched your cheek as you contemplated how to word it, without dropping yourself into a spiralling fib.

"I don't know really. I've got the feeling he's hiding something, to use against me if I pissed him off again... I'm not sure though."

"He threatened you?!"

You winced when his arms tightened around you, gritting his teeth and tensing up as if he wanted to run over there and burn the whole building down to the ground.

"Calm down. Not as such, but he heavily suggested that there would be consequences if I made him look like a fool again?"

"I knew it..." He grumbled under his breath, shifting you slightly to the left on his lap so he could pull his computer back in front of him.

"Know what?!"

"Right, promise me you won't get mad."

You looked at him pointedly, as if to say 'well, duh' as he clicked on something several times, which brought up numerous schematics of Templar headquarters, and a particular one of which you slightly recognised as Haythams work office.

"You know what I mean. Remember that pin you wore for our first mission? Well, I had a gut feelin' that I wasn't the only one watching. Then he confirmed my suspicions when he asked me about that drawing you did, before I'd even mentioned it."

Rolling your tongue in your cheek as you could see where this was going, you zoned out; now thinking that more than just Haythams eyeballs would look good on a stick, snapping out of your revengeful plotting and sighing when you realised Shay was still talking.

"When I confronted him about it, he said that the feed went to his computer too so he could have a look for anything that could help us, but it was deleted. I'm sure he recorded it though, cos he keeps bringin' up little details that no one would have noticed unless they watched it more than once. I didn't know, I swear to ya."

"Son of a bitch... Details such as?"

The corner of your mouth curled up when he shuffled about and lowered his gaze to your lap, his cheeks taking on a pinkish hue when you booped his nose playfully, making you wonder why he kept getting flustered so quickly recently.

"Aww, you're cute when you're embarrassed. Okay, you don't have to say. But why didn't you tell me about it before now??"

"Cute?! Thanks, I think?" He mumbled, which made your eyes roll and a chuckle erupt. "Didn't say anything because I've got no proof. It's what I've been workin' on the past few days."

Now paying more attention to the screen when he pointed at it, you saw that it wasn't only the floorplans were there, but all of the internal ducting, emergency exits and lifts were highlighted too.

"If he has got anything, it'll be on his work computer, not his personal one upstairs because he was in the middle of that bloody merger thing when all that was happening, and he never left the place. You up for another bit of larceny together lass?"

You grinned wickedly and pulled him to you by the collar of his shirt, kissing him firmly before shuffling around on his knee, so your back was up against his chest.

"Stupid question... So, what's the plan?"

Spending all of the evening formulating a way in and out of Haythams office, you had finally come up with a strategy, and were now stood across the street from Templar headquarters at eight fifteen in the morning. Checking your reflection once more in your compact mirror, you were satisfied enough that even your own mother wouldn't be able to recognise you. You had reached out to one of your contacts Mary Read; who was an expert in disguises, and after being under her skilled hands for several hours, you were now adorning a full latex mask and a somewhat itchy wig, drastically changing your appearance. Knowing that she would have no idea who Shay was, you took him with you (even though he was rather surly about having to wear 'makeup') but as it had taken longer to get him done than yourself and had to leave to finalise a few details, you didn't have a clue what he looked like right now.

Fiddling with your choker that concealed a voice synthesiser as it felt like you were being strangled, you didn't notice that someone was stood behind you until you felt a hand cup your ass. Spinning around quickly and getting ready to punch whoever it was, you suddenly dropped your arm when you looked into the stranger's eyes, recognising them instantly.

"You're late." You scoffed, frowning at the higher pitched voice that came out of your mouth. "Blonde is definitely not your colour either."

Taking a step back to get a better look at Shay, your nose crinkled when you saw he was, well, boring. No distinguishing features at all. His scar had been concealed, and his hair was now sandy ash colour and swept to one side. Most would still find him attractive, but this didn't do anything for you in the slightest. But it wasn't like looks mattered at this moment in time, only that he couldn't be recognised, and Mary had done a fantastic job. On the upside, he was wearing a black suit and tie so that he could take the place of one of the security guards on the upper levels.

"I'll keep that in mind next time I go to the salon love." He joked. "Sorry about the time, Gist took a bit longer than he thought to get these Id's sorted. Here ya go."

Staring at the badge for a moment when he handed it to you, your eyes narrowed as you read the name on it three times, rolling all the despicable things you could do to Christopher when you saw him next around in your head.

"Kandi?! I sound like a freaking stripper! I'm gonna kill him..."

Clipping it to your blouse and slapping his arm when he burst out laughing, you stomped over the road when you saw that the staff were starting to arrive at work, stopping just outside while you waited for Shay to catch up; who was still sniggering at you.

"Oh shut up, Gus. Well, here we go."

Holding your breath as you swiped your card to get through the turnstiles and enter the building, you resisted the urge to smirk when you got through security without any problem and, headed over to the elevators. You were pushed to the back when nearly a dozen other people flooded in, giving you the perfect opportunity to look over the shoulder of the girl in front of you; whose place you would be taking, and sneak a peek at her mobile while she was texting. Taking a phone that Shay slyly handed to you and holding it down by your side, you clicked the screen when you saw that it had paired with her cell, allowing you to clone it.

Flicking through the contacts list quickly, you eventually came across the one you were looking for; stomach-churningly named 'xXhunnibunniXx', and sent a beautifully doctored picture of her kissing a man inside her car. Switching the phone off and slipping it into your bag, you only had to wait several seconds before hers started ringing, pursing your lips when as soon as she answered it, she started becoming hysterical.

"What?! What are you talking about?? I haven't cheated! Sweetie, please... Wait... Listen to me!"

You managed to keep a straight face as she banged on every button on the lift in trying to get out, barging through the doors and pretty much screaming down the phone when they finally opened. Sliding her work card that you had managed to snatch off of her bag into your pocket, all you had to do now, was wait until you got to the top floor.

By the thirty second, there was only four of you left in here, and you were becoming impatient at how long this was taking, huffing when the elevator stopped again at the next level. And as your luck would have it, just as the last two people got off the next person to get on was none other than Haytham, whose eyes immediately widened as he saw you, standing a little too close for comfort directly to your right. Crap crap crappity crap crap! You thought as he kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, and you could literally hear Shay gritting his teeth.

"Are you new? I do not believe we have met. Haytham Kenway."

Not daring to meet his eye just in case, you took his hand when he extended it, managing to muster up a small smile when he squeezed your fingers briefly.

"Kandi. I'm just here to help out, one of your assistants called in with a family emergency? So I've been told."

"I see. Well, I do hope you enjoy working for me. Perhaps we could see, more of each other? Over drinks shall we say?"

Your brow furrowed as you wondered what he was getting at when he leered at you, until you followed his gaze downwards and saw that one of your hold ups had slipped, so the lacy top was now just below the hem of your skirt.

"Oh! Silly me. These damned things just won't stay up! Honey, would you mind?"

Spinning around to face Shay, you hoisted your skirt up and propped your heel up on the waist-high rail next to him, grinning when he slowly ran his hands up your calf and thigh, sliding your stocking into its proper place.

"This is my husband, Gus. He's much better at taking them off of course, but that will have to wait until later. So I'll have to pass on your offer. Thank you anyway."

Shay could barely contain his smirk as you kissed him on the cheek and tugged your skirt back down, wiping your lipstick away with your thumb as Haytham gave him a somewhat surly, but polite nod. You bit back the urge to laugh as he couldn't get out of the elevator fast enough when it finally opened on the second to last floor, leaving you and Shay alone for a moment to sort yourselves out when the doors went to close again; pushing the stop button, so the lift didn't go anywhere.

"Well, that's was, interesting, what made ya say that? You probably shouldn't have done it though, that's not gonna make things any easier for us."

"I know, but I couldn't resist, it was just the first thing that popped in my head. Besides, since when do we ever get to do something as easy as this? Least we can be ourselves, apart from our faces. Suppose that was one way of testing the disguises." You giggled, handing back the phone out of your bag and, taking an earbud and a small, pencil-sized device off of him.

Quickly double checking that all remnants of your makeup were off his face, you exited the lift, Shay going to the right and taking his position at the security desk, with yourself going to left, joining the other two assistants outside Kenways office.

"Who are you?!" The redhead sat at the main desk several feet away from you asked rather abruptly without even looking up, her long nails that were clacking on her keyboard making you wince.

"Kandi. Last minute temp. Why are there three of us for one person?"

"Give it five minutes, and you'll know. You better be good." She huffed.

It didn't even take that long before Charles stomped out of Haythams office with a tower of files in his arms, splitting it in two and dumping a pile on yours, and the rest on the other smaller desk with an evil grin.

"You know the drill. Make sure the new one keeps up."

"Yes, Mr Lee." The redhead chanted miserably, not bothering to glance up from her computer.

Grabbing the topmost file and flipping it open, you groaned as you recognised its contents, which was page after page of minutes from meetings that all needed typing up, in Lee's almost illegible handwriting.

This was going to be a looooong day.

[nothing-but-kpop-dreams]

BTS Reaction: finding their s/o singing/rapping their solo songs (requested)

I know that not all of them are going to exactly “find” them in the middle of singing/rapping, but hopefully you still like them all.<3

Sorry for any errors.

Jin:

You had you music blasting through your earbuds as you pulled the cake out of the oven. When Jin’s ‘Awake’ came on, you immediately pulled your phone out and made sure you put it on repeat. You sang along to the song as you got the ingredients ready to make the frosting for Jin’s birthday cake.

You were in the middle of singing ‘Awake’ for the third time when suddenly someone pulled your earbuds off.

Considering that you were originally the only person in your apartment, you shrieked in fear, spinning around with your icing spatula as your only weapon.

Thankfully, the intruder turned out to be your boyfriend and the air soon returned to your body. 

Jin was already in a fit of laughter with that signature window wiping sound escaping his body. “Jagi you should have seen your face!”

“Ya! you gave me a heart attack!” You said, threatening to hit him with the spatula.

“Aish, I’m sorry! I just wanted to tell you I loved your singing voice!”

Suga:

You and Suga were walking the streets of the shopping district in a half ass disguise. Both of you only wearing face masks and caps to not be recognized by any ARMY.

You both passed this music store that was blasting music on their speakers to attract customers. 

“Pst, babe, do you hear what i hear?” you pulled your mask off to expose your smirk.

Suga rolled his eyes at you, already predicting what you would do next.

“A to the G to the U to the STD!” you began rapping. You did your best to add some “swaggy” moves, all of them in attempts to get a smile or laugh out of your boyfriend.

You could see his eyes squinting adorably, knowing his gummy smile was under his mask. This only made you rap harder. “A TO THE G TO THE U TO THE STD!” you were so loud you were starting to get attention.

Suga quickly put a finger to your lips. “Shhh!”

Now far from the music store and unable to hear the song and use it as a reference, you tried to continue to rap on your own. You rapped in a soft whisper, keeping your “badass” moves to a minimum. However, you didn’t exactly remember all the lyrics,,,or know the right ones to begin with... and were probably a bit off beat, but you kept rapping anyway.

Again, his finger stopped your lips and he shook his head at you in disapproval. “Leave the rapping to the pros baby.”

Rap monster:

“Y/n, you ready to go yet?!?” Rap monster called out from the living room. He concentrated on his reflection in the mirror, fixing his wig to look just like your hair. He made last minute adjustments to the dress you ordered him to wear because it was “a dress you would wear”. He groaned. “Stupid Halloween party. why did i agree to this couple idea?!?” he asked himself. “Y/n! How about now?!?”

“Y/n?!?” you said coming out of your bedroom in your boyfriends clothes. You wore a pair of his jeans, that you had to roll up because his legs are so much longer than yours and you wore his t-shirt and sweater that were definitely too big for you. The only things that weren’t his were the sneakers you bought and the bleached wig you ordered just for the occasion. “I am not Y/n, I am Namjoon!” you said trying to mimic his voice.

“O-M-G! Namjoon?!? From BTS?!? Rap monster said in his attempt at some form f a female voice. “Can you rap for me?!?” he asked adding a school girl giggle.

You began to nod your head to an the beat of his song joke. “Uh -Yeah -Uh -Yeah- *mumbles through the fast parts* *emphasizes only a few key words* fame, girls, money, thats ma honey to the 100 to the 100! *mumbles again* *only clearly says all the bad words* You know I got a mufuckinn beat I got a mufuckin rhyme I got a mufuckin flow I got a mufuckin style-”

“Wow!” Rap monster said cutting you off in fake amusement. “That’s like so hot!”

You popped your sweater with as much swag as you had. “Well, that is why i am the best.

Rap monster rolled his eyes at you. “Babe, let’s go already.” he said in his normal voice. “And remind me to give you rapping lessons when we get back.

Jhope:

Your close friends dragged you out to a karaoke bar as your late birthday celebration. But you knew it was mostly their way of trying to cheer you up after you have been moping around for weeks over how much you missed your boyfriend while he was on tour.

“C’mon Y/n, rap your boyfriend’s song!” they all demanded. 

“No, i cant rap like him.”

“Rap it! Rap it!” they all chanted.

With a few bottles of liquid courage already in your system, you had the guts to give it a try You looked to the screen and clicked your favorite song, that songs being 1verse.

You flew through the lyrics, trying to as many of Jhope’s vocal touches as you could. A very drunk you thought you were doing well. Certainly, your drunk friends thought you were straight up spitting fire.

“Oh my gosh! Y/n that was so good!” a familiar voice spoke out just the song ended. 

You whipped around and found your sunshine smiling at you. “Hobi!” you yelped. you ran up to him, and attacked him with a hug, feeling his arms snake around you. “I thought you wouldn’t be back for another week!”

“I wanted to surprise you!” he said before he pulled you into a kiss.

“Awww!” “ So cute!” your friends cheered.

“Let’s keep the partying going!” Jhope smiled. “Put that song again so we can rap together!”

V:

You and V finally had your schedules match up and you both decided to take a mini vacation together. There was a long drive ahead for the two of you and you decided to be civil and each of you had half an hour to play your music in the car. V had won the game of rock, paper, scissors, so he got to play his music first.

Finally, his half hour came to an end and it was now your turn to blast your music. “Yay! My turn!” you cheered as you ripped the aux cord off his phone and plugged your phone in. 

“Agh! Fine!” V groaned with a playful pout.

“You’ll like my music.”

“But I like mine more.”

You laughed at his little attitude, he was just too cute when he was pouty. “Trust me, you will LOVE this song. I know you will!” you said as you searched through your song list for the right song. 

You clicked the song “stigma’ and you peeked at him to see his reaction. Within the first few seconds, is eyebrows shot up and and a cute smile lit up his face. “Aw, jagi, that is my song!”

You began singing along right when the lyrics started. You let your voice get disgustingly out of tune as you reached the chorus, because  your vocal range did not match the emotions you were trying to covey. How your boyfriend had such a voice and such a talent still amazed you. 

V giggled at you, still trying to keep his eyes on the road, but sneaking peeks at you from time to time. Just before the song ended, he joined and sang out of tune with you. “Aw jagi, your voice is so beautiful when you sing my song!”

Jimin:

You sat at your vanity, applying to makeup as you jammed out to your loud music.The next song that came up was Jimin’s song and you squealed to yourself, as was your usual habit of your favorite song coming out on your speakers. 

You began humming along immediately and when the lyrics started, you began to sing to yourself. Words weren’t exactly words as you applied your lipstick, eyeliner and mascara. The sounds that came out of you were more like whale sounds rather than actual Korean words since most of your concentration went to your makeup. 

Suddenly, you heard a fit of giggled in the room. You jumped in your seat , causing mascara you were putting on to smear on your eyebrow and forehead.

Jimin laughed harder.

“Jimin! How long were you there?!?” you could feel your face burning

“I saw everything!” he held his hand over his stomach because he was laughing so hard

You looked at yourself in the mirror. “Jimin! You made me mess up my make up!” 

Jimin came up to you, handing you one of your makeup wipes. “Sorry sweetie, I got bored waiting for you to get ready then I caught you singing and I thought you were so cute.”

Jungkook:

It was the first time in months that you and your boyfriend both had the days off at the same time. This time was now dedicated to being lazy together.  

It was the late morning and you were the only one awake. Seeing the mess the two of you made the night before, it was best you cleaned before Jungkook woke up and you two started another movie marathon. 

You plugged in your headphones, grabbed a broom and began an attempt to clean. Of course, being in the lazy mood you were already in, you were easily distracted by the music to actually do any type of real cleaning. Instead, you mostly sang along to your music. 

The beat of Jungkook’s song ‘Begin’ started to play and you were quickly sucked into the vibe of it. You were deep into the lyrics. Your eyes were closed, your arms were flying dramatically and you were using the broom as a microphone.

Eventually the song ended and your performance was over. You opened your eyes and as you waited for the next song to start, you heard the sound of someone laughing. You turned around and saw Jungkook standing by the kitchen doorway. His phone was pointed at you ans he was in a fit of laughs. “Babe, oh my- ha! I am- haha!” He was luaghing too hard to keep talking.

“You better delete that!” you ran up to him, and tried to snatch the phone out of his hand.

He was fast and held it above his head. “Now way jagi! I am going to keep this forever!”

-Admin Boat

[the-master-cylinder]

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Greg Cannom Ozzy Osbourne ”Bark at the Moon” In 1980, Ozzy Osbourne signed as a solo act by Epic Records; at his first meeting with the company’s top brass, the Ozz pulled a dead pigeon out of a paper bag, and bit its head off. Supposedly the record execs were quite shocked, and ready to terminate Osbourne’s contract then and there. It’s said that his manager had to do a lot of managing to smooth things over with the record honchos.

The story of the rocker’s geek-like behavior got out to the rock press, and it didn’t seem to hurt Osbourne’s image any. If anything, it seemed to cement his reputation as a “real showman” one who would do anything to give his audience a rise. Then, during a concert in Des Moines in 1982, a member of the audience threw something on stage. To Osbourne, it looked like a toy-a rubber bird. It seemed a good idea to play along with the gag, so the Ozz picked it up and bit into it.

Instead of getting a mouthful of rubber, Osbourne again felt the sickening crunch of tiny bones as he bit off the head of a dead bat. Again, this time by accident he’d played the geek. And, again, the story got played up by the rock press, though most reporters neglected to mention that the incident had been accidental; as far as they were concerned, it was just old Ozzy, the madman of rock, playing that role to the hilt. It didn’t feel that way to Osbourne, though, who had to endure a painful series of rabies shots for his error.

During his 1983 tour of the U.S. Osbourne found his concerts were the target of a pressure campaign by church and parents’ groups, who perceived the Ozzas some form of human devil. Animal Cruelty and satanism were regarded by these groups as a regular part of his act, which of course they had never seen. Robert Hilburn of the L.A. Times reported on a meeting of one such group, which had Seen Osbourne’s act after they had failed to stop it.

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The next morning, several of the concerned ministers gathered to hear a report on the show. “You know what bothered me the most?”one pastor asked. “He said ‘God bless you.’ That’s blasphemy.”

Osbourne, a sincere Christian in his private life, was more than a little upset by these attacks by the clergy.” At first, all this satanic business was funny,” he told Hilburn. It brought me a lot of publicity when I needed it… But it has become like a nightmare. It’s like an LSD trip. You take a tablet and it’s fun at first, but you can’t turn it off.

“To me, it’s like American Werewolf in London or something, just a put on… Why are these people picking on me? Why don’t they picket Vincent Price? He must have been in 90 films with all kinds of satanic references.”

The Ozz made it pretty clear in all of his interviews of the period that he was ready for a change. That change arrived this year, when he appeared, on the Bark at the Moon (1983) album cover and in the video for the title track, as a werewolf. Osbourne’s logic here is pretty clear-if no one believed he was play-acting as a satanist, maybe they will finally recognize Ozzy the Werewolf as a creation of the purest fantasy.

Because Ozzy, like Michael Jackson, is a huge fan of John Landis’ An American Werewolf, Rick Baker was the first artist approached; but Baker was determined to take a hiatus from makeup work. Osbourne and company began combing the country in search of the right makeup man for the job, when one of their contacts recommended Greg Cannom, who had cut his teeth, lycanthropically speaking, as a key crewmember on The Howling. “They told me they needed this werewolf makeup in one week,” says Cannom.

  There were actually two Cannom werewolves involved, the first to be done for the album cover photo session, and a second for the Bark at the Moon video. “In a way, I viewed the album cover shoot as a test; for the video, we had more time, and made a few changes that made it much more to my liking.”

Cannom’s involvement in the video has convinced him that the music business is even crazier than the movie business, though he found the project, overall, a fun assignment. Initially, Cannom was put off a bit by Ozzy’s “madman” reputation; that changed, however, when he met Osbourne. “His wife said to me, ‘I want to see how you’re going to get Ozzy to sit still for five hours,” Cannom recalls. “But he did it, no problems, and he wore the contacts with no problems.”

True fans know that Ozzy’s personality is more puppy dog than Satanist, and Cannom’s design reflects this with a more doglike countenance. A chief difficulty in the design of prostheses was the requirement that Osbourne’s tattoos, on his knuckles, chest and arms, should show through. This required the laying of very fine hair.

Two continents collaborated to get the work done within schedule. We were surprised to learn that in the U.S., Cannom’s chief assistant was Kevin Yagher. The hair for Ozzy’s wig was laid by Hollywood’s leading hairmeister, Josephine Turner. In England, Janice Barnes tied the individual hairs to lace hairpieces for Osbourne’s body, which she also applied.

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Mark Mayling served as Cannom’s assistant at Shepperton Studios for the album cover shoot, and on location for the video. Cannom is particularly pleased with the skill and the speed displayed by Turner and Barnes on the exacting hair work. “It was amazing, just plain incredible, that they were able to come through in that amount of time.

https://dailymotion.com/video/x1ihlz9

“The video was shot at Northampton County Sanatorium, which was built for rich people in the early 1900’s; they closed it down just a few years ago. It was one of the most spectacular buildings I’ve ever seen, and one of the scariest. Hundreds and hundreds of vast, empty rooms and vaulting hallways. I’d hate to be in there at night. One of my main disappointments with the video was that they really didn’t make very good use of that fabulous building…I was also disappointed that they didn’t show the makeup up close, after all the effort that went into it.”

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John Carl Buechler on the Ronnie James Dio’s Last in Line (1984) In 1984, Ronnie James Dio’s eponymic band followed up the success of Holy Diver with their second album, The Last in Line. The title track was accompanied by a completely bizarre music video directed by Don Coscarelli, who also brought us the horror flick Phantasm.

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The Ramones Psycho Therapy Video Shostrom’s entry into the wide world of rock video makeup came while he was working at an L.A. prop house; at the time, he was molding various nefarious devices to be used by the intergalactic buccaneers in the forthcoming film Ice Pirates. “Frank Delia, the producer of the Psycho Therapy (1983) video, knew John Varris, the vice president of the company,” Shostrom says. “John came in one day and said, ‘I know a lot of you guys have weird portfolios, a friend of mine is producing a rock video, and if you bring in your portfolios tomorrow, you can show him your stuff.'” The next day, Delia looked over the portfolios of the crew members; Shostrom and Showe were picked for the job.

Delia was far more open to input by the makeup artists than most film producers. “I don’t think Frank had worked with special effects of this sort before,” says Shostrom, “and, considering the weird situations portrayed in the video they’d planned, he was more inclined to be open, allowing us to toss in some ideas.

“Frank played the song for us, gave us copies of the lyrics, explained the basic idea of the psychoward and asked us if we had any ideas. We threw the ball around for several hours, and came up with the scenario of the Teenage Dope Fiend-the TDF, as Frank liked to call him-on the table about to be given a lobotomy, when his head splits open and this ‘alter ego emerges.”

This effect was accomplished “dry that is, without unpleasant gore, slime or other viscous substances, though a more graphic approach was considered. “But even before filming, there were many people at Warner Brothers and MTV who let Frank know they were against it,” says Shostrom. “Frank fought them, though we didn’t go with any blood. It was still too gory for a lot of people; when they screened it for MTV, people walked out and said there was no way they could show it.

“All of the work has done in eleven arduous days—the lifecast of the actor, Robert Dennis, who played the TDF, his splitting head, the creature puppet, the corpse apparition of the psychiatrist, and one other thing that you can barely see at all in the video, a breathing desktop-a slight Videodrome ripoff. If you look carefully when the corpse-psychiatrist is on, you can see a bulge rising in one corner. And there was also a brief cutaway for the operation scene, where the surgical team is a bunch of rotted corpses. The work for that consisted mostly of taking some old heads off my shelf and throwing some shit on them.”

The puppet, a caricatured likeness of actor Dennis, was built onto a cast of Shostrom’s arm. For actual shooting, Shostrom manipulated the puppet while Showe worked the cables that opened Dennis’ head. Their only assistant was Miles Liptak, who helped with the casting.

“Unfortunately, we never got to meet the Ramones,” laments Shostrom, who has performed as a rock musician himself. “They shot it over a three day period; the first two days they shot with the Ramones, while we continued work in the shop the last day was just pickups and effects, so the Ramones were gone.”

Music Video Work Shostrom, who has recently finished working on a second rock video, for Blue Oyster Cult, expects special makeups to be an increasing part of the rock video phenomenon. “It’s good for the artist,” he says, “because you’re not tied into a script, and it’s clear that they need your ideas and input. Also, it’s a very small proportion of films that can use or require special makeup. Rock videos, just by the nature of the music, have great possibilities for visuals of all kinds, including makeup.”

It’s long been known that one factor that draws rock fans to auditoriums is the chance to hear their favorite hit tune performed live. Taking the rock video phenomenon to its logical conclusion, it probably won’t be long before groups start attempting to re-create their hit videos, live on stage. Imagine, for instance, the Rolling Stones interrupting a performance of Undercover of the Night to engage in a heated on-stage gun battle!

For close to a decade, rock’s leading dramatic troupe has been none other than The Tubes, a musical ensemble composed primarily of former art students. Though the group successfully entered the mainstream of recorded rock with their 1983 hit “She’s a Beauty,” in the mid-70’s their live stage shows were viewed by many as the leading edge of rock’s avante garde.

The elaborately staged Tubes concerts as preserved for posterity on Thorn-EMI’s cassette, Tubes Video, have always been enormously expensive to mount. Early on, the group found a bargain in Rick Lazzarini, a 15-year-old makeup enthusiast. “My brother knew a guy, Tim Mazonk, who was doing pyrotechnics for them,” recalls Lazzarini, “and that was how I hooked up with them.” For one segment of the show, Lazzarini transformed lead singer Fee Waybill into the ultimate punk rocker” by festooning his face with razor blades and other sharp objects. Another character, glitter rock king Quay Lewd, sported 13-inch platform shoes built by Lazzarini (these are still in the act). In a sequence that anticipated Videodrome, Waybill would ram headfirst into a Lazzarini-built TV set, coming up with the set stuck on his head, distorting and magnifying his features. On special occasions, Lazzarini would join the group onstage during the finale, to dance about in his own “anatomically correct” complete with genitals apesuit.

Lazzarini’s otherwise normal teenage lifestyle prevented him from touring nationally with the group, but he worked with them throughout the state of California, where the group enjoyed its greatest popularity. “It was a great thrill,” Lazzerini recalls,” ’cause here I was a kid from a hick town south of San Francisco, reading every copy of Famous Monsters and running out into the street with blood all over me like your readers do, so it was great to have the chance to do these really bizarre things.”

At 17, Lazzarini began touring with KISS as a pyrotechnician, designing various stage effects, and preparing and cuing the on-stage explosions that accompanied their high-decibel rock. His makeup skills were later called into play, however, for such tasks as finding a formula for stage blood that would meet the high standards set by Gene Simmons. “He wanted something that would be healthy if you swallowed it.” Lazzerini recalls. “We wound up using a mixture of egg whites, some flour to thicken it, and red food coloring. It had to be warmed a bit, too, because he didn’t want to take it cold.”

Simmons had a unique method for maintaining discipline among the pyrotechnics crew. A quantity of mouthwash was kept on-stage so that Simmons could clear his throat after performing fire-breathing stunts; when any of the pyro crew missed an effects cue, they could expect to be sprayed with a mouthful of Lavoris. Lazzerini apparently didn’t find Simmons’ methods too unreasonable, however, later, when working for the Hollywood Wax Museum, the makeup artist arranged for the group to be immortalized as one of the museum’s most popular exhibits.

Around the same time, Lazzarini and John Watkins (who would later succeed him as pyrotechnician for KISS) organized a group called the B.E.M.’s (Booger Eating Morons). The group lasted for only one concert hall appearance before becoming a San Francisco Bay rock legend. Suffice to say that their act featured on-stage gunplay, blood pumps, smashed guitars and the microwave massacre pictured above.

Lazzarini subsequently resumed his college education. “I was taking film courses,” he says, “and also courses in business, law and computer science-I decided I wanted to be a rich makeup effects artist, not just a makeup effects artist.” While pursuing his education, Lazzarini referred any major assignments he was offered to friends, though he contributed additional stage effects designs for a subsequent KISS tour.

Lazzerini’s return as a rock’n’roll makeup maestro came with the making of the Jeopardy video featuring Greg Kihn. As head of makeup effects, Lazzerini was in charge of zombie-izing 30 people, attendees at a wedding of the dead, and sculpted a 6-foot-long Octopus tentacle (adapted to greater length by the video crew) which engages Kihn in mortal battle. Assisting with the zombie makeups was a young makeup artist with the singular name Syd Terror; Terror also provided the connective tissue for a strange pair of Siamese Twins seen in the video, and “Martha,” the video’s zombie bride.

The resultant video was one of four nominees in the best effects category of Heavy Metal magazine’s rock video awards last year, and the only nominee that did not rely heavily on opticals for its razzle-dazzle. Just recently, Lazzarini and Mark Shostrom worked together on a brand-new video for Blue Oyster Cult, produced by Frank Delia of Psychotherapy fame. The video, called Shooting Shark, features two ravishing and scantily clad models wearing custom masks designed by the pair. Lazzarini built the iguana head, and contributed mechanicals to Shostrom’s jackal head that allow it to snarl. Unfortunately, the ravishing models are not featured in the video as prominently as are the less-than attractive faces of BOC’s members.

“Working with Frank, you find that he doesn’t know what he wants, but he knows what he doesn’t want-and that leads to numerous changes and headaches,” says Lazzerini. “But it also gives you an opportunity to offer your ideas, which is always good, So there you have it a natural combination: fast, loud music and special makeup effects. When there’s more to report in this burgeoning field, we’ll be reporting it. In the meantime, just remember the wise words of Sleepy LaBeef: It ain’t what you do, It’s the way how you do it And it ain’t what you eat It’s the way how you chew it.

Stan Winston sculpts Mr. Roboto (1982) for a Styx music video, the character would become one of the most iconic pop-culture figures of the 1980’s.

Ed French/”Torture” The Jacksons I got a phone call from a woman saying, “We need a character with a leering, toothy grin from ear to ear (literally, a hand with a human eyeball growing out of its paim, a rock with a human face and three people singing… without faces (all features blank, smooth except for mouths). Are you the person who does this sort of thing?” “Yes,” replied, “I’m that kind of guy. “We’ll need you next week if you’re available. That was producer Kathy Dougherty on the phone two days before the Jacksons were to begin shooting the “Torture” video from their Victory album.

Very shortly after that I was sitting with director Jeff Stein in the dining hall at Astoria Studios, I found out that Jeff had directed videos for the Cars (“You Might Think”, Billy Idol (“Rebel Yell”) and Hall and Oates (“Out of Touch). His laid-back demeanor, I later realized, were quite necessary to his survival during the uninterrupted 24 and 48 hour stretches of filming and editing that would take place during the next two weeks.

Since the final effect of the video would be more of a “fun-house” experience than a “chamber of horrors’ a la “Thriller”, we agreed that the artistic effects would be slanted toward the surreal. Art director Bryce Walmsley was coming up with a wall composed of oversized moveable plastic eyes, so we decided that, in an atmosphere like this, my Gahan Wilson-inspired “Mixed-up Face mask (a.k.a. “The Geek” appearing in Geek Maggot Bingo) would be right at home in cameo appearance.

While repairing, retouching and restoring “The Geek to his original ghastly splendor, I was also sculpting a dental nightmare in clay on a stone life-cast of my face. Having just completed an exhausting stint on Larry Cohen’s new epic The Stuff, my death-like appearance probably inspired Jeff to cast me as the video’s leering “Phantom of the Opera” character. Although leff had those abominables, Phibes and Sardonicus, in mind for the shrouded, ear-to-ear grin figure at the high-tech pipe organ, my immediate inspiration for the prosthetic leer was that gooney Hirschfield caricature of Jerry Lewis I was seeing all over town in the adverts for the Labor Day Muscular Dystrophy Telethon.

The monstrous grin was sculpted and the two-piece mold completed in about four hours. The only other prosthetic appliance that could be pre-fabricated was for the bit in which the eye peeks through the skin in Jackie Jackson’s hand. Using a negative hand mold, close to the size of Jackie’s hand, created a thin latex rubber skin that I would adhere over a semi-spherical glass eye l had attached in the palm of Jackie’s real hand When the hand opened, a pre-cut slit pulled apart and the eye pushed through the “skin” The faceless singers were supposed to be three of Jackie’s brothers and the immediate makeup solution was to use prosthetic adhesive to glue nylon stocking over their heads, exposing only their mouths and ears, “seal” the material with liquid latex, make it up with rubber-mask grease paint and, lastly, add wigs. Even considering the total absence of pre-production time, I thought these things could be effective.

It turned out to be overly optimistic to think that “Torture could be shot in four days. The Jacksons would shoot their scenes for the first three days (Tuesday through Thursday and many effects scenes would be shot on Friday featuring Jackie. The shooting schedule actually expanded in to a marathon seven days and nights, which was still remarkably short, considering that every shot had some special effects in it. Steve Kershoff, whom I had met on Exterminator Il and who had recommended me for this job created smoke effects, whips that cracked explosively and other pyrotechnic goodies. Louise de Teliga provided dancers with spider costumes containing extra arms and, in a nifty visual pun, Peter Wallach animated break-dancing skeletons, (built by Bill de Paulo) that really broke!

The alien-landscape set of flat terrain, with the occasional black papier mache rock Sprouting up from terra-burlap, took up fully one third of the huge Studio H floor and included a beautifully air brushed cyclorama of star filled heavens with very agreeable looking pastel colored “cosmic dust.” While “The Geek’s fleeting appearance was being enormously enhanced by the camera work of Tony Mitchell, the “Forbidding Fortress set was being constructed only a few yards away, complete with sliding doors, dungeon and a pipe organ that rolled like a train down tracks which disappeared at the end of a corridor. This was where I would do my leering Lon Chaney routine while a dozen or more plastic-clawed dancers clutched at Jackie’s stunt double through bars in their floor prison.

Test estimated that the leering-face makeup would take three hours to complete, so I started at 3:00 am by waxing down my beard, In the past, I’ve prepared for roles by cutting my hair short and even shaving my scalp to alter my hairline. If a role has required a beard, and there was time to grow it, I grew it. If I had a beard and it had to go, I shaved it without a second. This time I experimented with applying the piece over the beard. At 4:00 am I had completed the application of the unpainted appliance and took a little walk through the Carpentry shop and out onto Studio H where the crew was still working the kinks out of the set’s moveable parts. Hoping that the completion of my makeup would coincide with that of the set, I took three more hours with the painting, assisted by a fabulous West Coast makeup artist, named Sally Childs and we were still ready too soon.

I took a little nap in the makeup chair until l was awakened, “1984” style, with the Jens of a camera about six inches away from my face. It was 8:00 am and a video crew was documenting the making of “Torture.” pointed to my face and shook my head “no” to indicate that I couldn’t talk under the monstrous mouth. After a quick trip to wardrobe, I took my place at the organ. It’s not easy playing the pipe organ in a shroud, especially if you’re miming it to a Jacksons hit while your mouth is glued shut at 8:30 in the morning. On top of that, while listening to my directions, (“Get down”, “Play that muthal”, “Get funky, Ed” screamed Jeff Stein) manfully attempted to stay aboard a speeding pipe organ, that could have used a seat belt, when it abruptly reached the end of its runway. I had been in makeup about 10 hours when the 40-second sequence, that took five hours to shoot, finally wrapped.

Aside from my good fortune to work with the Jacksons, that week was also special because I moved to my new 2500-square foot living and working space. “Torture” continued shooting and in between trips in a moving van between Manhattan and Brooklyn I found myself sitting on the floor of one empty living room or the other, talking on the phone with Sally Childs or Jeff Stein in Studio H in order to keep tabs on when I would be needed for Jackie’s third eye bit. The action of the scene had Jackie backing into the wall of eyes and inadvertently sticking his hand through one of the orbs and then retracting the hand now covered with dripping goo. He would then open his wet hand to reveal the eye staring at him. Sally told me, “They need the eye goo standing by!” and I suggested picking up a few jars of pink Dippity Doo setting gel, which is exactly what we used when the scene was shot on the following Tuesday. Although fatigued from being on call most of the night and obviously not having the easiest time of it, injured Jackie cheerfully climbed into a canvas chair so that makeup could begin. A few feet away the wall of eyes was being lit. It was Jackie’s final scene and when Jeff yelled “Cut” everyone gave him a well-deserved round of applause.

It looked like that pretty much wrapped up my work on “Torture”, too, but two days later, I was contacted about the pick-up shots that would be filmed in a photography studio in Manhattan. One of the shots was to be that trio of faceless singers and I was feeling a litt anxious about the effect as we were not able to use the same marvelous cameraman. I was very pleasantly surprised and relieved when I walked into the studio Saturday morning to find that Dave Greene was to be Tony’s replacement. Greene’s photography and canny suggestions had been a great help to me when we worked together on Sleepaway Camp

The three brothers.. actually, three volunteers were supposed to simply turn to the camera and reveal their blank faces. I suggested that we not have them move at all, but rather simply have them wear the trademark.

Jackson shades and simultaneously remove them on cue. (You never see these guys without them on, right?) Our Jacksons surrogates were extraordinarily patient, especially when you realize the makeup totally abscured their vision for three hours. Now, part of my job became that of escorting these guys to the bathroom and making sure they didn’t incinerate themselves or anything else while they were smoking. When the nylon edges around the mouths started to work loose, due to the wear and tear or repeated takes of lipsynching the song, I not only reglued them but hit upon the idea of concealing the now obvious edges with quickly improvised mustaches. The three of them appear on the video for one freaky second you might miss them if you blink.

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY rollingstone revolvermag Fangoria#35 Gorezone#04 Fangoria#42 Fangoria#41

1980’s Music Videos & Make Up Effects Greg Cannom Ozzy Osbourne ”Bark at the Moon” In 1980, Ozzy Osbourne signed as a solo act by Epic Records; at his first meeting with the company's top brass, the Ozz pulled a dead pigeon out of a paper bag, and bit its head off.

[kartiavelino]

‘Escape’ star Patricia Arquette is not asking for your approval

Think about the unusual case of Joyce “Tilly” Mitchell. A 51-year-old worker of the Clinton Correction Facility in Dannemora, NY, she was married to a fellow jail employee, Lyle, and managed the tailor store. Via a mix of desperation, sexual starvation and romantic fantasy, she helped convicted killers Richard Matt and David Sweat escape on June 5, 2015. The trio’s plan was to run off to Mexico. The following manhunt value Matt his life — Sweat returned to jail — and the state of New York $23 million. As delivered to gutsy life by Patricia Arquette within the Showtime restricted sequence “Escape at Dannemora,” premiering Sunday, Tilly is a sewing-room dominatrix who instructions Sweat (Paul Dano), who murdered a cop, to an adjoining provide room for random gritty quickies whereas his fellow inmates thread their bobbins and regulate the closed supply-room door. Arquette, who gained an Oscar for 2014’s “Boyhood,” underwent a bodily transformation, the likes of which can go away her Botoxed Hollywood friends shocked. She gained 40 kilos. As well as, she wore prosthetic tooth, brown contact lenses and a wig. “I couldn’t actually put on face cream for a 12 months,” she says, referring to her anti-beauty routine. The payoff, she says, was value it. “I acquired to discover a variety of stuff girls don’t ever get to take a look at,” says Arquette, 50. “Being manipulative, egocentric. Quote, unquote, unattractive. And but a straightforward object of want. Tilly was very snug being a sexual individual. So, can we discuss individuals sexual of their center age? And seeing them on-screen? You’re extra prone to see a film with dinosaurs taking on the earth than a film with a middle-aged lady being sexual.” Arquette as Mitchell (above), and the true former jail employee-turned-convict (inset).Chris Saunders/SHOWTIME; New York State Police through AP Arquette reveals she flinched privately when director Ben Stiller, her co-star within the 1996 comedy “Flirting With Catastrophe,” filmed a scene the place the zaftig Tilly tries on bathing fits and registers hopelessness and disgrace on the sight of her reflection. “I stated to Ben, ‘Let’s get this scene over with.’ I’ll by no means watch it,” she says. “It’s each lady’s worst nightmare, letting all of it hang around.” “Patricia is fearless as an actress, and an activist,” Stiller tells The Submit. “She trusts that if she fills the character and understands her, the viewers will join. She by no means asks for their approval. It’s actually highly effective.” “Dannemora” was filmed over a 10-month interval at a decommissioned jail in Pittsburgh and Kaufman-Astoria Studios in Queens, with Dano and Benicio Del Toro (as Matt) taking pictures scenes within the Dannemora jail yard. “The prisoners had been yelling loopy s - – t to each lady on the crew. It was furry,” says Arquette, who toured Tilly’s stitching room. The impact was chilling. “It was form of intense as a result of these prisoners are murderers and rapists they usually’re strolling round with these 14-inch, sharp-assed scissors,” she says. Tilly wasn’t the one Clinton worker who cavorted with inmates. Her sewing-room substitute, Denise Prell, Arquette’s tour information, additionally crossed the road. After they first met, Arquette stated to her, “You’re a fairly lady and there are all these guys. And so they know they’re not going to have the ability to have a love affair with a girl for 30 years. They need that sexual relationship with a girl and also you’re enjoying to a captive viewers. They must be undoubtedly coming after you.” “And she or he acquired arrested two weeks later for having intercourse in the identical room [as Tilly],” Arquette says. It could shock some to study that the actress did not need to meet Mitchell, who is serving as much as a seven-year sentence for her function within the escape and was denied parole in 2017. “I in all probability might have [met her,] however there have been so many contradictions in her testimony. And her police interviews. And jail interviews,” Arquette says. “It could have been fascinating for a second to see her life. After that it could have been manipulative, and I didn’t need to get ensnared in her stuff or give her any grounds to have a authorized weirdness. She’s so manipulative. I simply thought, ‘No. That’s really harmful.’ ” Arquette believes Tilly’s attraction to hazard, inspired by Matt, was her undoing, greatest illustrated within the present when she hides hacksaw blades in a package deal of floor beef and has it delivered to Matt’s cell. “There was that second the place [you realize], ‘There’s no getting back from this. This might go actually incorrect,’ ” the actress says. What was it about Matt that finally made Tilly go over the sting? “She was petrified of Richard Matt, however he was the one alpha male she had ever been with,” Arquette says. “I believe it was the primary time she ever felt that bizarre form of harmful equality with any individual. She was extra maternal in the direction of Sweat.” On the night time of the escape, Tilly was scheduled to select up Matt and Sweat after they crawled out of a manhole proper exterior the jail gates, however she by no means confirmed. She was hospitalized for an nervousness assault that happened beforehand whereas having dinner along with her husband Lyle, in a Chinese language restaurant (Arquette and Eric Lange, who performs Lyle, filmed in the identical sales space the place the Mitchells dined). Why does Arquette assume Tilly misplaced her nerve? “Down in her intestine she knew that they had been in all probability going to kill her,” she says. “On the listing of provides they gave her to get had been two sleeping baggage, a shotgun. Every thing they had been asking for was for two individuals, not three. Additionally, part of her seems like she will be able to’t do this to Lyle. She’s been taking him for granted. She is aware of that Lyle’s a very good man and that these guys are hustlers.” Share this: https://nypost.com/2018/11/15/escape-star-patricia-arquette-is-not-asking-for-your-approval/ The post ‘Escape’ star Patricia Arquette is not asking for your approval appeared first on My style by Kartia. https://www.kartiavelino.com/2018/11/escape-star-patricia-arquette-is-not-asking-for-your-approval.html

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“Filmmakers with Distinct Styles: What makes their Work so Mesmerizing?” Spring 2017 Volume 5 issue 2 of The Avenue. Full article text below:

“In films it is standard for the storyline and plot details to be portrayed through direct actions and dialogue. Looking past these obvious, surface-level aspects, however, there is so much more that goes into our perception and experience of a film. From emotional response and psychological pleasure to characterization and mood-building, directors must take into account every facet of the visual and auditory senses when creating their work. 

Components such as lighting, wardrobe, soundtrack, camera perspective and colors influence our viewing experience more than we may realize. Skilled filmmakers understand this and take care to create harmony between these components and the mood, character and plot they are trying to convey. Filmmakers who are even more skilled do not only take the complete audience experience into account; they add their own personal flare and motifs to every cinematic detail they touch. Making such personalized films goes beyond just creating cohesiveness in a single film; it establishes a specific aesthetic that exists throughout a director’s entire body of work. 

One of the most important and influential decisions filmmakers are faced with when directing a movie are the costumes their characters wear. Usually, key aspects of a character’s personality are expressed through their fashion choices, as is the case with people in real life. Fashion has always been a means of creating a first and lasting impression in people’s minds and communicating a specific identity or image.

Filmmakers Wes Anderson, Quentin Tarantino, Sofia Coppola, Stanley Kubrick and Martin Scorsese are some of the best in the business at adding their distinctive style to each movie they produce. Through their use of clothing, each director enriches their films with an added element of storytelling and often influences fashion trends and movements in the real world simultaneously.

Wes Anderson

Popular films: The Grand Budapest Hotel, Moonrise Kingdom, The Royal Tenenbaums.

The master of color schemes, Wes Anderson never disappoints with his carefully selected and arranged sets. Each film seems to be dipped in its own color palette: the warm tones of The Royal Tenenbaums, the soft pastel colors mixed with dashes of primary colors in The Grand Budapest Hotel and the faded primary colors of Moonrise Kingdom, to name a few. 

Anderson’s films often feature main characters who are outcasts; this aspect of their characterization is reinforced by his out-of-place wardrobe choices. Margot’s fur coat in The Royal Tenenbaums is a perfect example of this. It separates her from the rest of the characters, highlighting her identity as the adopted child. Her fur coat can also be seen as a symbol of secrecy and protection, which coincides with her enigmatic personality and the hidden feelings she harbors for her brother. At the same time, her brother Richie’s sunglasses parallel this characteristic of secrecy, as he is hiding romantic feelings for Margot as well. 

In The Darjeeling Limited, the Whitman brothers’ elegant suits provide a stark contrast against the setting of India. The suits are representative of their high status, apathy and vanity. Additionally, in Moonrise Kingdom, Suzy Bishop’s retro high socks, beret, pastel-pink collared dress and eyeshadow identifies her as a young girl dealing with more mature issues, such as sexual desires or independence. Through his careful styling, Anderson successfully communicates the major traits of each of his characters, all the while supplying the world with some iconic looks.

Quentin Tarantino

Popular movies: Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill (I and II), The Hateful Eight, Django Unchained, Inglourious Basterds, Reservoir Dogs

Quentin Tarantino’s films can be described as nothing less than over-the-top, humorous, and dangerously chaotic. Ironically, though, Tarantino creates this trademark out-of-control mood through very controlled style and aesthetic choices. A large contributor is his use of a wealth of different style influences in his films—anything from Westerns to kung fu movies—as well as his unrestricted use of vulgarity and violence.

Tarantino distinguishes his characters from those in other movies through the use of simple yet iconic clothing and hairstyles. He does not shoot for subtlety in any aspect of his movies, including wardrobe; he instead focuses on exaggerated, memorable clothing that simplifies the character to a more general identity while still making a lasting impression. Some of the best examples that immediately come to mind are Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction, O-Ren Ishii in Kill Bill, and the gangster team in Reservoir Dogs. Mia pulled off what has now become quite an iconic look: white blouse, black dress pants, cropped black bob and red lipstick. The sharp contrasts in this look, its lack of embellishments, and its similarity to the clothing of Jules and Vincent represent both her position of power in the film as Marcellus’s wife and her ability to exercise this power. Similarly, O-Ren Ishii’s costume is representative of her power. Ishii wears both a black kimono and a white kimono—both compliment her swords—the simplest image of a (half) Japanese past-assassin, current-mob-member. Finally, the classic black and white suits of the heist gang in Reservoir Dogs became one of the most iconic gangster looks of the ‘90s. Their attire represented their identities in its inherent irony; the gangsters are wearing a sort of costume to hide their true occupation. It is apparent that Tarantino’s costumes are not simply decorative; they are an integral part of the identity of each character. 

 All of these fashion choices combined with all of Tarantino’s other stylistic choices create a film noir body of work characterized by chaos. This chaos, in turn, helps to reinforce his common theme of revenge and creates an impactful and distinct viewer experience.

Sofia Coppola

Popular movies: The Virgin Suicides, Lost in Translation, Marie Antoinette, Somewhere

Sofia Coppola is known for her nostalgic and dreamlike cinematography. On top of having her own killer fashion sense, the wardrobe styles in her films have been influential to the fashion world as well.

The most notable Coppola film in terms of wardrobe is her debut movie, The Virgin Suicides. The clothing she chose for the Lisbon sisters feels like an authentic representation of the ‘70s, including lace dresses, florals and bandeau tops. This wardrobe characterizes the Lisbons as innocent but also rebellious; by dressing in this manner, they defy their conservative parents, while also emanating an air of femininity and naiveté. The sisters spurred an off-screen fashion movement that brought back the retro styles of the ‘70s and inspired pieces by Rodarte and Marc Jacobs (e.g. Jacobs’s Daisy campaign which was made in collaboration with Coppola). In her film Lost in Translation, Coppola’s use of pink wigs and lingerie contribute to her classic dreamy aesthetic. In Marie Antoinette, Coppola included extravagant and bold 18th century dresses, which, in Marie Antoinette’s case, comes off to reveal vulnerability in the form of elegant white knee-socks with baby blue ribbons. 

 Sofia Coppola is a master of using costumes not only to express the identity of her characters, but also to establish the overall light and nostalgic aesthetic she has become famous for. 

Stanley Kubrick

Popular movies: Eyes Wide Shut, A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, Full Metal Jacket, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Dr. Strangelove

Although the late Stanley Kubrick made films that cover a wide variety of genres, he was still a filmmaker with one of the most distinctive styles to date. Many of his films dealt with the dark side of human nature, particularly dehumanization and psychological deterioration, which can be seen in his works Eyes Wide Shut, A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, Full Metal Jacket, and 2001: A Space Odyssey. 

His themes were portrayed well through his costumes, most notably through the use of strange masks and robes in Eyes Wide Shut. These peculiar ensembles (styled by past Vogue editor Marit Allen) were mirrored by the normal dresses and suits that the characters wore during the day, creating a contrast between reality and fantasy, restraint and freedom and  light and dark. Alex’s iconic costume in A Clockwork Orange consisted of a white shirt and pants, a bowler hat, a cane, military boots, suspenders, a jock strap and false lashes for one eye. This look was off-putting and ironic, and it has inspired lines by designers such as Chitose Abe and Marjan Pejoski. Additionally, the costumes of The Shining expressed the identities of the characters, from Danny’s vibrant sweaters to Jack’s more drab look. The film has inspired pieces in a collection by Stuart Vevers for Coach as well as Alexander McQueen’s entire Fall 1999 show.

Kubrick had a devotion to creating each film to be unlike anything the audience had seen before. He continually pushed the boundaries of controversial topics such as sanity and sexuality, and he meticulously planned for his costumes to be representative of these themes as well. 

Martin Scorsese

Popular movies: The Departed, Goodfellas, Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, The Wolf of Wall Street, Shutter Island, Mean Streets

Martin Scorsese’s own life and perspectives influenced his films and their style heavily. His own struggle with drug problems are reflected in his movies, which usually contained gangsters, drugs, fame, greed and corruption. Similar to Kubrick, Scorsese uses dark humor in his films to strengthen the theme of human nature’s dark side. Like Tarantino, Scorsese uses violence in his films. 

The filmmaker’s costume choices contribute to the gritty, almost ominous quality of many of his films, and have influenced fashion trends over the years. In Taxi Driver, Travis Bickle’s edgy look of distressed jeans, a western shirt and M-65 jacket was readily adopted by fans and was slightly reminiscent of Woodstock days. The double-breasted, deep-collared suits of Goodfellas started trends in urban areas of America during the ‘90s. These suits, as well as the Armani suits worn by Jordan Belfort in The Wolf of Wall Street, represent the characters’ entitlement and greed for wealth and power.”

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Hyperallergic: Andy Warhol’s Self-Conscious and Perfect Bodies

Installation view of My Perfect Body at the Andy Warhol Museum (all photos by the author for Hyperallergic unless otherwise noted)

PITTSBURGH — Young men and women recline on their backs, some shirtless, staring at the camera confrontationally, or smoking, aloof. They are often serious and sexy. They are the subjects of Andy Warhol‘s screen tests, where visitors to his studio, the Factory, sat alone with a rolling video camera. The silent footage occupies a large wall at the Andy Warhol Museum, where you can also make your own screen test. Sitting before a camera and under a blaring light for four minutes and 41 seconds, I didn’t know what to do with my limbs or what facial expression to make. Whom was I looking at? I felt painfully inept.

Jessica Beck, a curator at the Warhol Museum, says there is an “uncomfortable encounter with shame and sexuality” in the screen tests. Recording one makes you hyperaware of your body; it sort of felt like I was staring into a mirror, but couldn’t see my own reflection.

The screen tests were an apt prelude to the exhibition My Perfect Body, curated by Beck, which makes plain Warhol’s self-conscious relationship to his own body and fascination with others. I saw the show after walking through the entire museum dedicated to the artist and it’s how it ought to be seen. It seals his work together, from his early fashion designs to his celebrity portraits.

Andy Warhol’s pills and medication at the Andy Warhol Museum

Before the exhibition officially begins, there is a room of glass cabinets filled with Warhol’s prescription drugs, vitamin supplements, wigs, thick-lensed glasses, and plenty of cosmetics. In his book The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, the artist writes: “If someone asked me, ‘What’s your problem?’ I’d have to say, ‘Skin.'” From a young age, Warhol — who then went by Andrew Warhola — was anxious about his acne and blotchy skin, which started to lose pigment when he was eight years old. Some people called him “Spot,” or “Andy the Red-Nosed Warhola” (the redness was later attributed to rosacea). His diaries tell of his various appointments with the “pimple doctor,” the crystal doctor, and the plastic surgeon “dying to do” the artist’s face. As he got older, Warhol regularly took collagen injections to smooth away wrinkles. He also began to bald and lost much of his body hair, reputedly after a nervous episode when a love affair fell apart — hence his need for a wig.

Andy Warhol, “Before and After, 4” (1962)

My Perfect Body leads with a hallway of photos of Warhol. In one, his hands mask his face; in another, he has colored his nose with dark pigment to make it look smaller and less round. Soon after, we come across Warhol’s “Before and After” print, which was based on an ad for a plastic surgeon and shows the results of a woman’s nose reduction. Several of Warhol’s early anatomical drawings, such as of male genitals, hands, and feet, are inspired by a slew of ads, blaring phrases like “Try Man Power Today” and “Where Is Your Rupture?”

Andy Warhol’s source material

Andy Warhol’s source material

As the exhibition delineates, Warhol either idealizes or uncovers the blemishes and failures of the body, a dichotomy that mirrors what he said of Pop in a 1966 interview: It’s “just taking the outside and putting it on the inside or taking the inside and putting it on the outside.” Sometimes, bodies are purely sculptures, at others they are grotesque objects and vessels for ugly feelings. In the show, we jump from loving ink drawings of naked men, with small, black hearts crawling up their shoulders and backs, to Warhol’s astonishing large-scale prints of car crashes and a woman’s suicide.

Installation view of My Perfect Body at the Andy Warhol Museum

In 1968, writer Valerie Solanas attempted to murder Warhol with a gun. He survived, undergoing intense surgery, which left deep scars across his chest and stomach, forcing him to wear corsets for the rest of his life (a colorful array of them is on display). At first deeply ashamed to reveal his deformed body, Warhol eventually posed shirtless for various artists and photographers, famously including Richard Avedon and Alice Neel. Whereas Warhol previously focused his energies on adjusting his looks with cosmetics, plastic surgery, and accessories, after the gun wound, he developed an obsession for bodybuilding. He maintained a regular regimen of riding exercise bikes and lifting weights, and recorded videos with his trainer for Andy Warhol’s TV, his television series that ran from 1980–82. He collected clips of men with bulbous bodies, deeming them nothing less than marvels. “Muscles are great,” he writes in America. “Everybody should have at least one they can show off.”

Various Andy Warhol–related objects, including Richard Avedon’s portrait of the artist and Warhol’s wig

Andy Warhol’s corsets

But I should mention that My Perfect Body is not sensational in its approach. If anything, it provides you with a more nuanced interpretation of Warhol and his work, one that moves beyond the artist as a kind of character or persona.

One of Warhol’s quietest works, “Sleep,” in which he films his friend John Giorno sleeping naked, focusing on one body part at a time, encompasses the artist’s approach to much of his art: a gaze filled with love for others. Giorno writes a fantastic essay in the exhibition catalogue, describing an indelible scene of Warhol drying himself naked after a shower. “He had a beautiful body and a big dick. I was very surprised,” Giorno writes. “What he didn’t see in himself he saw in everybody else … . Whoever attracted him, and potentially every person in the world, had a perfect body.”

Scene from Andy Warhol’s “Sleep” (1963)

In Beck’s interview with art historian Douglas Crimp, he builds on that point: “Yes, Warhol was shy and insecure about his own body, his own appeal, and undoubtedly about his sexual desires and activities. But he made up for it, found outlets in others and in the art he made with and about others.”

Andy Warhol’s source material

It’s easy for us to diagnose, analyze, and glamorize Warhol. On the one hand, he didn’t shy away from feeding people with deliciously frank and gossipy commentary about art and life. He gave the impression of being quite open, but, like any of us, concealed not only parts of his physical body but aspects of his private life. While he identified as gay, his sexuality was not so easily definable; in 1980, he told his biographer that he was a virgin — a claim that would be challenged. “Fantasy love is much better than reality love,” he said. Likewise, his art is populated by fantasy bodies.

Near Warhol’s collection of medical prescriptions, the contemporary artist Adam Milner has installed his own glass case of what he calls “remains.” They are a mix of Milner’s, Warhol’s, and strangers’ possessions, the distinction often blurry. They include the last (unwashed) pair of underwear Warhol wore, an ex-boyfriend’s wisdom tooth, braided hair, fake eyelashes, and bones. The takeaway seems to be that we all have bodies, with similar parts, that are equally gross, attractive, and sexual. Our relationship to our bodies is a strange admixture of love and shame, curiosity and disdain. But somehow, leaving the museum, I felt the admiration of Warhol’s gaze, as though I, too, had a perfect body.

Adam Milner, “Remains” (2016) (image courtesy the artist)

Andy Warhol: My Perfect Body continues through January 22 and Exposures: Adam Milner: Remains continues through January 15 at the Andy Warhol Museum (117 Sandusky Street, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania).

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