#still bizarre to see number 13 with brown hair though

[fazcinatingblog]

Don't get me started on this girl's hair

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 19 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic.  In this chapter:  Paul has a nightmare and finally starts to confess to Gene. (Yes, there’s finally some smut again.) (Author’s note 6/24/2020: Smut has been revised! Thighsex imminent.)

           In his dreams Paul was always himself. Sometimes he was eight years old, in the school playground, hearing his classmates singsong "Stanley the one-eared monster" to the tune of Rudolph, and sometimes the classmates would turn into a whole stadium full of people, thousands, cackling and pointing, while he stood onstage and couldn't say a word. Sometimes he was his own age, walking off a plane, or at a photoshoot, stripped down and bare-faced and afraid as soon as the cameras started.

           That night he was seventeen again. He knew because the T.V. was on in the living room, Neil Armstrong on the screen in all his astronaut garb, sticking the flag up on the Moon's rocky soil. Julia was there, for once, sitting beside him on the couch.

           "Do you think it's real?" she said, and he looked at her, disgusted.

           (of course it's real)

           "Do you think it's real?" she repeated, and he thought she must not have heard him. He put his hand to his face, touching the start of his sideburns—something new he was trying, something he'd need to shave before school started back up, but for now, it was cool. He'd seen them on rockstars, but rarely in person, and never on someone he knew, until that guy he'd met a month back. Gene. But Gene was too fat in the face to pull the look off. They would look better on him, once they grew out.

           (it's got to be real. why would they waste all that time and money on something that wasn't real? why would they be so stupid?)

           "You tell me," Julia said, and her face and build shifted, dark hair bleaching out to light brown, pockmarks and freckles sketching across her face, Carol's face, Carol's voice now, Carol's hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why don't you tell me, Stan?"

         (i don't—)

        Another shift. Carol's face melted down, skull pushing outward, hair going shaggy and wild. Her nose forced out and flattened all at once, muzzle emerging. A lion's face on a man's body, a man's voice coming through its throat.

           "Are you going to tell me?"

         (please)

          (please, take it off, i'm sorry—i'm so sorry—)

           "Is it real?"

          (please)

        (what're you saying, i don't understand)

           "Is love real, Stan?" Marbas' voice was oddly soft as he curled his hand around Paul's suddenly much more narrow shoulder. Tapped it, then Marbas' still-human fingers moved to trace the sides of his smooth, bare face. "Or—let's put it differently. What she felt for you, was that love?"

           (i)

            (i don't think you can love someone you don't know)

           But you've made your fortune pretending." Marbas' lips pulled back, revealing teeth as long as his thumbs. "And so has he."

          (he?)

           "The man in your bed." The demon pushed Paul's hair behind his left ear. "I've cursed greater men than you. Byron. Shelley. More. Watching you was hardly entertaining in comparison, until he came along."

         (don't hurt him)

          (please don't—)

           "Do you really love him, Stan?" Marbas didn't give him time to answer, tugging at a curl, longer now than it had been minutes before. Paul couldn't feel a centimeter of what was happening to him, could barely do more than watch and breathe as his body warped before him. "Why? Because he was kind to you?"

          (i don't know)

           "Because he had the qualities you lacked? Or because you didn't believe he'd want you?"

          (i don't know!)

           The demon wasn't letting the point go. Neil Armstrong still in the background, the sound of the T.V. tinny. His shoes off to the side on the dirty carpet. The plugged-in fan on the coffee table. Everything, everything the same in that little apartment but him.

           "You won't tell me. You won't tell him. What I wrought on you really makes no difference." Marbas touched the center of chest, full and heavy before the demon even moved his finger towards it, and Paul realized, just from what he could see of his body, that he was still seventeen after all. The weight he'd had back then was there, the stomach flab, the too-thick thighs. Every bit of him dumpy and unattractive, no definition, nothing worth wanting. "Even if you'd always had this form, you'd have kept your silence. You'd never have given yourself up."

          (i can't, i just can't—)

           "Then you want to remain as you are?" The demon's mouth twitched again; he seemed almost to smile, fingers toying with Paul's shirt.

          (of course not!)

          (you don't understand!)

           "Paul? Paul, wake up."

           He opened his eyes. Gene was there, leaning over him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a book and a newspaper on the other side of the bed. Gene had stayed with him.

           "What time is it?"

           "Noon. Are you okay?"

           Paul nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Looking down, he realized he was still in last night's dress. The nightie's straps beneath it, amazingly, had stayed in place, though the sleeves of the dress had slid a bit. He swallowed, the memories of the night prior trickling in like a drizzle before a thunderstorm, replacing the fragments of his dream, and tugged the sleeves back up to his shoulder.

           "Did I say anything strange?"

           "You were getting kind of twitchy."

           A glance at the kicked-askew bedsheets told Paul that was an understatement.

           "I'm sorry."

           "No, I'm sorry. I should have stopped you."

           "From kicking in my sleep?"

           "From leaving last night."

           Paul looked over at him.

           "What could you have done? Chased down my car?"

           "I could've grabbed you when you were going out the door." Gene grabbed the book—it was one of his old self-help numbers from high school—and set it on the nightstand, possibly the only attempt at putting something away that Paul had ever seen out of him. "Or I could've done what you wanted. It's my fault."

           "It's not your fault at all. You got me out of there." Paul shifted until he was on his side. "If it hadn't been for you, I…"

           "Mary-Anne was taking care of you."

           "She… she was, wasn't she? She must've thought I was so stupid." He shook his head. "I don't know how you knew where to look for me."

           "I didn't. It was just a guess."

           "I shouldn't have gone off. I guess I wanted to… I don't know what I wanted." Paul paused. "I'm okay. I promise."

           "Are you sure nothing—"

           "Nothing happened." Paul tried to smile, weakly. "I wouldn't still be in this shape if something had."

           "If anybody touched you, then—"

           "It's fine. I'm fine."

           "Paul, you're not fine." Gene swallowed. "Somebody spiked your drink."

           Paul didn't answer for a long moment.

           "Nobody spiked my drink."

           "What?"

           "I said nobody spiked my drink. I took the 'ludes myself."

           He didn't want to look Gene in the face. He didn't want to see the disappointment and disgust there, now that he knew that Paul had drugged himself when he was already in danger. That he hadn't been innocent. That had to have done it for Gene. Wrecked any chance of leftover fondness or want.

           "Why?"

           "Because I couldn't stand the thought of fucking some random guy sober." Paul exhaled. "I didn't realize I couldn't stand the thought of fucking him trashed, either."

           "Paul—"

           "It's okay, all right?"

           He was surprised when Gene gathered him up in his arms. His breaths hitched, all of him just tightening, tightening up at first. Gene almost let go then, but then Paul grabbed him, burying his face against Gene's neck.

           He didn't deserve that kind of comfort out of Gene after what he'd done. Worrying Gene. Risking his own safety. He knew it, but that didn't make him any less greedy for it. He remembered, in blurred-out fragments, Gene's hold on him in CBGB last night, Gene's arm around him in the limo. Gene wiping his face off with the towel. He remembered leaning into all that warmth, too 'luded out to even quite understand it, only recognize that it was there for him, despite everything.

           Hopeless. So hopeless. But he kept holding on anyway, grateful, pathetically grateful, holding on longer than he should have, breathing in the scent of Gene's skin. Closer than he'd ever let himself get before. Closer, maybe, than he'd ever get again. Gene hadn't even gotten dressed yet, was still in his boxers, and his bare arms around him felt so good, so reassuring, it almost hurt. Paul shut his eyes and peeled himself away, not wanting to wait for Gene to let go first.

           "It's really… it's okay."

           And then he got up. He felt more clearheaded than he'd expected. Peter had told him 'ludes kept him from waking up with a hangover after a night of partying, but he'd never really believed him until now. Except for the acrid taste of vomit and morning breath still in his mouth, he felt… bizarrely enough, he almost felt refreshed, physically. He crossed over to the master bathroom, brushing his teeth and gargling with mouthwash before returning to the bedroom. He walked over to the closet door, where the other blouse and dress that he'd bought still hung from coathangers. "I… I'm gonna get dressed. Which one do you want?"

           "Paul, they're your clothes."

           Paul chewed on his lip and took the dress off its hanger, lining it up level against him. The hem fell two or three inches above his knee. He turned around, dress in hand, and started to head back to the bathroom, but Gene spoke again before he got there.

           "Don't wear things just because you think I'll like them."

           "I'm not."

           "Paul." Gene got up from the bed. "I gave it a lot of thought last night. I haven't helped you out like I needed to."

           "Gene, all you've done is help me out."

           "I've hurt your self-respect. I told you what to do. I made you dependent on me."

           "I was depending on you way before this. You just didn't realize it."

           "Not that way." Gene walked up to him. Paul draped the dress over one arm like a waiter's napkin. "I made you feel like you had to—to wear things, to do things, to keep my attention. I never should've—"

           "That's not true."

           "Yeah, it is. Last night, before you left…" Gene's gaze lowered to the floor before lifting back to meet Paul's. "I didn't know why you were acting like that. I'd thought you wanted me."

           There it was. There it was, closer than Paul had ever dared to put it himself. There was his chance. He could shut it all down right now, seal off any hope of Gene ever getting close enough to hurt again, do what last night had, somehow, failed to manage. Drive Gene away with an assurance that what he'd done, he'd done out of practicality. Tell Gene he'd used him all the way around, that every flirt, every kiss, had just been a means to an end. Lie to him the way he couldn't lie to himself.

           He had to struggle to keep looking Gene in the eye. The nerves that the Quaaludes and drinks had destroyed were all back again; he was keenly, so keenly aware of what he stood to lose. Gene's expression was guilty, almost penitent, and that hurt, too, but—maybe there was something past that. Maybe there was still some desire left in him. Maybe, even, if it wasn't the same as what Paul felt, it would still be okay. Paul wanted to believe that. He took a breath, and said three words.

           "You weren't wrong."

           "What?"

           "I did want you."

           "C'mon, Paul. You know my ego could use a little knocking down."

           "I did want you. I do want you."

           "Paul—"

           It felt like he was walking through water, every movement artificially slowed down. Two steps to close in on Gene. The reach of his hand to touch Gene's face, the morning stubble he hadn't yet shaved, tugging his chin down to kiss him. Just once, quickly, softly. Gene didn't stiffen up, didn't draw back, but he didn't answer immediately, either. As he broke the kiss, looking at Gene, trying to gauge his expression, Paul realized, offhand, that he'd had to raise up on the balls of his feet just to reach him. He hadn't even noticed.

           "You're not gonna want me after. I know that."

           "I don't know that I'd say that."

           "I would." Paul's mouth crooked upward, only a little wobbly. The words seemed to spill out of him like the water from a burst dam. "That's why I acted like that. That's why I left, because I knew."

           "Paul, listen—" Gene started, but Paul cut him off.

           "It's okay. I… I haven't treated you right. You've been real good to me and I—" Paul shook his head. "Let's try, all right? If you still want to—I wanna try."

           "I—"

           "I don't think I could go all the way yet. But I wanna be with you."

           "Don't push yourself. Especially not after last night."

           "I'm not pushing myself."

           "Paul, I'm serious."

           "I'm serious, too."

           Gene didn't answer for awhile. Paul felt frozen in front of him, biting back a thousand more words, swallowing every impulse to spill his guts even further. He wouldn't hold eight years of want over Gene's head like a ransom that needed to be paid. He wouldn't beg Gene again. He wouldn't yell at him, or throw a fit. And he wouldn't—he wouldn't give himself up, any more than he had already. He couldn't.

           Gene's hand touched his cheek. He seemed to be thinking. Gene always seemed to be thinking. Paul took a few quick breaths, until Gene bent his head and met Paul's lips with his own. Warm lips he'd already half-given up on touching again. Paul kissed back hard, suddenly desperate, arms looping around the back of Gene's neck. Beyond eager, beyond grateful, wanting to erase the memory of last night on the bed. Touching him the way he'd wanted to before. Kissing him the way he'd wanted to before, the way he'd done when they were dancing. Gene's tongue was in his mouth, one hand tangling against in his hair while the other tugged him tight against him.

           Paul was getting wet, like before, trying to grind against Gene like he still had a dick, like any movement of his hips right now, standing up, was granting him half the friction it was giving Gene. Gene was tugging him backwards before long, back towards the bed. Paul let him. His whole body felt hot and just on the verge, already unraveled over so little. Gene eased him into sitting on the bed and he scooted backwards, swinging his legs across the bed.

           Gene didn't go for the zipper of his dress this time. He seemed almost cautious, only kissing him on the mouth and neck, not yet even groping his chest. Paul reached behind him, sliding the zipper down, down, sliding the dress off. More purposely exposed than Gene had seen him until now, nothing remaining but the thin, purple nightie and panties. He was trying not to squirm as he felt Gene's gaze on him, but he couldn't seem to help himself, fingers curling around the nightie's hem. When he'd put it on late yesterday afternoon, he'd realized how short it was, the hem only barely skirting the upper part of his thighs, and how the silky material strained against his breasts. It had sort of warmed him, then, made him feel a little hopeful, a little desirable. Now, he wasn't so sure.

           "Do you like it?"

           "Yeah. It looks good on you."

           "I got it for you."

           Gene hesitated.

           "That's what I mean, you don't need to wear things to—"

           "I'm not—"

           "What… what I mean is, you had my attention already."

           Paul felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He didn't know how to answer that. Gene didn't seem to be waiting on an answer, anyway, one hand sliding up his thigh, beneath the nightie, tracing the soft skin there and the spreading wetness on his panties. His other hand went for one breast, squeezing it, sending another surge of need through Paul's body. He'd tried groping his own breasts a few times, before Gene came, never getting anywhere with it. It had been about as pleasurable as rubbing a hand against his knee. But now that Gene was touching them, tweaking one already-hard nipple and then the other, Paul found himself groaning, back arching. On some level it was almost humiliating, to be crying out over so little. Gene's other hand had only barely started rubbing him through the damp fabric.

           Gene tugged Paul up on his lap before long, Paul's legs splayed on either side of him, the nightie bunched up above his hips. Gene's erection was rubbing up against him, too tantalizingly close to be avoidable now, and Paul held his breath, half-expecting Gene's slow strokes to stop entirely, but they didn't. Paul grunted a bit, tugging the elastic of Gene's boxers down just enough to free his dick.

           "Lemme suck you off," he urged, starting to scoot back, although the twitch of Gene's fingers, finally sliding beneath his panties, made it almost impossible to want to get off of him for that long. "You haven't gotten a damn thing out of this yet."

           "I don't know about that." Gene was smiling, running his fingers against his slick folds, Paul pushing his hips forward to meet them. "Just give me a hand here. I've got a great view."

           "C'mon, you… you can't just want a handjob." It had to be disappointing enough just keeping it to fooling around in the first place with him. Paul hadn't even been brave enough to take off the nightgown. Paul grasped Gene's dick anyway, almost unprompted, his own strokes firmer and more assured than he'd expected. He watched Gene take a deep breath, his cock already twitching a bit in his hand. "I've blown guys before, I'm not a virgin there—"

           "Maybe later." Gene grinned, pressed a kiss to his throat. "You know, I never actually got to see you relax the other night." His finger ran lightly across the edge of his clit, too lightly.

           "You felt it," Paul protested, distracted. It was already getting hard to concentrate. He didn't want to halfass it, especially when part of him could still barely believe it was happening at all. Especially when he knew, from rare, scattered conversations early on when they'd toured, that Gene tried to avoid masturbating much—which had always struck Paul as weird. Gene's selective orthodoxy and hang-ups were so baffling. He shifted, rolling his hips harder against Gene's fingers and hand.

           "Let me see it."

           Oh. Oh. Paul was crying out again, cursing as he tried to focus, keep a rhythm going despite his own arousal. The precome already dripping from the tip was gratifying, Gene's breaths getting ragged, but he didn't know if it was enough. Gene kept watching him, watching his face. Every high-pitched sound that came out of Paul's throat was hotly embarrassing, not in the least because Gene was quieter in comparison, while Paul's moaning was only ever covered up when his lips met Gene's. But Gene was getting less cautious now, groping his breasts beneath the nightie instead of just through it, the skin-on-skin sensation almost overwhelming. His other hand, caught between Paul's thighs, was certain, slipping along his folds, finger running small strokes against the hood and clit.

          Gene was already closer than he was. Paul could tell that by the feel of his dick in his hand, and the expressions crossing his face, making him redouble his efforts. Paul’s vision swam, his own concentration faltering far before Gene came, groaning lowly, spurting mostly in his hand and on his dick, a bit of come ending up on Paul’s bare thigh. Paul let go, bracing his damp hand on the bed, leaning forward. Gene’s own hand had gone almost still between his legs. The blissed-out look on Gene’s face almost made up for it.

          “Hey, Paul, you haven’t—” Gene started, fingers moving again, not quite as intently as before. Paul grabbed his wrist, tugging it back.

          “Wait. Let’s try something else.”

          Gene looked a little confused but moved his hand away, starting to rest it on his leg. Paul shook his head.

          “Not there. I need that.”

          “You need that?” Gene furrowing his brows post-coital would’ve been funny, if Paul wasn’t battling his own arousal. The heat was starting to rise in his cheeks as he took Gene by the wrist again, setting it on the sheets. He wasn’t quite able to look Gene in the eye again yet, so he ran his fingers against the warm, soft fabric of his boxers, rolling up the hem of one leg slightly, mouth pursed.

          “You’ll see.”

          Paul closed his eyes briefly, breaths heavy, and scooted in closer, shifting until he was straddling one of Gene’s thighs. He made only a token effort at wiping his right hand off on the sheet before clasping both hands around the back of Gene’s neck, as he started to rub himself against Gene’s leg.

          Gene’s lips parted in surprise. Unbelievably, he actually looked like he didn’t know what to do at first, hands taking awhile to find their way back to Paul, one resting on his shoulder while the other slipped back under the nightie to rove over his stomach and back up to his breasts. Pairing that with Paul’s own grinding made it all the more intense, stimulation almost overwhelming. His damp panties were barely a barrier, exactly the extra friction he needed as he rocked his hips in short, quick bursts. Every so often, his leg would brush up against Gene’s dick—still soft for now, but still its own sharp thrill. Warm. As long as he was this close, this wet, he wasn’t nearly so worried about how letting him, about how actually fucking, would end it. It was just something else spurring on his arousal, a promise of something to come.

          “You’re killing me, Paul.”

          “Yeah?” Paul’s mouth twitched into a small smile as Gene tugged him into a kiss.His legs were clamping tight around Gene’s thigh nearly of their own accord, amping up the pressure, concentrating it. Paul was panting and groaning again before long. His clit was throbbing, the wetness that had already soaked through his underwear going past it, making Gene’s bare skin and the edge of his boxers slightly slick.  Easy to push and rub up against, find the exact right rhythm to leave him breathless.

          But it wasn’t quite enough until Gene pulled him forward just a bit, just until Paul found himself panting against his neck. Paul sped up a little, hips rocking, moans and curses all he seemed able to manage as the pleasure built up, closer, closer. He realized, dimly, that he was starting to finally get used to this body, figure out what he liked now, how to get off. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, not that it mattered right now. Gene was still watching, his gaze, the unfettered, needy want there making Paul feel heady. Looking him right in the eye was better than before, better than it had been in the dark. He cried out again, sharply, as he finally came, clutching Gene hard as he rode out his orgasm. It was a few seconds before he let go, Gene’s grip on his shoulder not loosening up until Paul relaxed his legs again.

          “Gene,” he said. “That… that was good.”

          “Yeah? Good.” Gene grinned. “You look cute when you come.”

          Paul glanced down reflexively at the comment, shaking his head. The spunk on his hand and on the sheets was long since clotted up. He started to get up from Gene’s thigh, a little shakily, straightening his underwear and pushing down the nightie with his clean hand. He felt a little like apologizing—it couldn’t have been that good for Gene, who probably hadn’t had a chick stop at a handjob with him in ten years, and Paul knew he couldn’t have been that fun to watch get off, either, if only because of what it wasn’t—but Gene didn’t look unhappy with the way things had gone at all. He looked pleased, maybe almost sated, running his hand almost possessively down the wet spot Paul had left behind on his thigh and boxers, rubbing the fluid between his fingertips. Paul’s face felt hot as Gene brought his fingers to his lips.

          “You taste pretty good, too.”

           “Aw, c’mon, Gene--”

          “You do.”

          Paul shook his head, but his heart was beating a hard, hopeful cadence at the words. He didn't quite feel sated. There was a weird leftover warmth in him, a deep-down feeling that he could probably go again without much trouble, but he felt like he'd asked too much of Gene already. It'd probably be another ten minutes at least before Gene could get hard again.

           "Uh. Lemme get you a towel or something, then we can… I don't know, I can fix some toast…" Paul trailed, awkward as all hell, starting to scoot off the bed. He'd forgotten how to handle anyone in the after. Gene, especially. Gene looked at him as if he were about to laugh.

           "You'll really leave it at that?"

           "I'm not leaving it at anything." Paul tried to rearrange his face into as bland an expression as he could, too keenly aware of how tightly he was still pressing his thighs together. Gene laughed, tugging him back up by the arm, back nearly into place on his lap. He wasn't facing him head-on this time, at first, but he turned his head, a vague sort of hope making his pulse flit. "C'mon, Gene, I know you can't—"

           "You have a hard time enjoying anything, don't you?"

           Oh, God. Just like last time, Gene was picking the worst point possible to start asking questions. Paul hesitated.

           "I enjoy plenty."

           "You're still soaking." Gene had gone for the hem of the nightie, tugging it up and pressing a finger against his panties, making Paul twitch anew. "I bet you could go again. Maybe more than once."

           "I don't know— "

           "You wanna try?" Gene leaned in, kissing the top of his head. Just as easy and thoughtless as if they really were together. As if this wasn't going to evaporate the second Paul gathered up enough nerve to give in entirely.  Why shouldn't he be thoughtless about it? I want you was all Paul had managed to own up to.

           Paul shoved those thoughts aside as hard as he could, and turned around entirely, tracing his hand down Gene's chest. Gene, to his credit, barely winced at the cold, not nearly inadvertent smear of come from Paul's hand.

           "Depends. Would you go down on me for it?"

           The glint in Gene's eye gave him away long before he even licked his lips.

[scullyeffect]

how do you feel about younger people in fandom? like the youngest side that are probably on tumblr i.e 13/14ish?

i don’t know if you mean in the x-files fandom, or just younger people getting involved into fandom stuff online nowadays so i’m just going to go with a generalization. 

i’m nobody’s mother and interests are healthy, and honestly i’m 23 so i don’t know anything about anything yet, but i will say that i live with a 15 y/o girl, a 13 y/o girl, and an 11 y/o girl, and i find myself very sad when all they want to do is go on a phone and watch youtube videos and be online instead of doing something more creative or intellectual.

we had a birthday party for 11 last night, and we had to take phones away from like six 10-11 year olds, which is ridiculous. i do understand that we live in a big city (paris, which isn’t exactly the safest) and lots of kids do things independently (walk to school, walk to friends’ houses, take the métro) so sometimes i worry about 11 (who doesn’t have a phone) if she needs to take the métro alone or walk somewhere alone, and i wish she did have some way to reach me if ever she got lost or something, but 11 is so young.

i think in a world that’s become so increasingly digitized and almost making it necessary to be connected in some way, kids are growing up faster, and some of the posts online and on tumblr talk about things they might not understand yet, and cause them to form opinions based on a text post some 18 y/o wrote. i’m even guilty of this. i’ll get too lazy to keep up with the real world and get my politics from tumblr sometimes, and that’s probably not good, even though mainstream news sources can do the same thing. my mom worked for the washington post, and that’s pretty much the only place i get my news from.

i probably got my first tumblr account when i was 15, and honestly i regret it. i was a pretty sheltered kid/teenager who really enjoyed reading, doing art, writing, and watching sad european dramas about dead sovereigns and suffering artists. i somehow discovered pro-ana blogs (blogs that share and encourage eating disorders to the point where healthy people can begin to actively attempt to follow insane tips in order to lose weight), and since i actually had been having trouble with my own eating habits but never really known that those behaviors were bizarre, i self-diagnosed and was part of that “community” for awhile. 

i was interested/ in love with lots of actors and actresses, and as i made it out of kind of the pro-ana area which i realized which was unhealthy lol i found out about stan culture and just real obsession with movie stars/celebrities. when i was a younger teen i was “obsessed” with meryl streep, which at that time meant that i watched all her films repeatedly. i didn’t realize people cared about the actors/actresses’ personal lives until i got on tumblr, and at the time it was really exciting to discover things about my favorite celebrities (i mean, being a fan of someone obviously isn’t new, but it was to me). now that i’m 23 i find it very invasive and somewhat creepy that we’re so interested in someone’s life, sometimes even more than their body of work. we’ll probably never meet that person, and if we do they’re not going to think about you or remember you forever, because there are thousands of other people out there who feel the same way, and they just can’t keep track (at least the huge stars). 

on the flip side, i think it’s good to have role models and people to look up to, but sometimes there’s a thin line there. i’m blonde, but i dyed my hair brown in my first year of high school because i was obsessed with marion cotillard and wanted to look like her. i kept the brown throughout high school because i liked it, and sort of forgot i ever did it because of her, but now i’m blonde again and it looks so much better haha. ALSO i got really interested in france/speaking french because of her (and juliette binoche), although i had a fantastic and enthusiastic french teacher in high school to help fuel my desire to speak french. and now i’m fluent in french and live in france. wow. so, if there are people you look up to in the public eye and they’re influencing you in positive ways, that’s great! i do get suspicious when very influential celebrities share their political views, though. i think we have a tendency to follow in people’s footsteps either subconsciously or in full awareness. that could be in any field. i like certain authors, and sometimes my own writing is heavily influenced by their work. it’s a natural thing that happens. but voting really should be an informed decision...just my opinion.

let’s talk about “just my opinion”. online bullying is real and can sometimes be rampant if there are dividing views on someone and their perceived private life. for example, in the x-files fandom we will, for the most part, absolutely convince you that mulder and scully are fucking like bunnies, when the show’s own creator won’t lol. but there are also people who think that gillian anderson and david duchovny (the leads) were/are/could be at some point in a romantic relationship with each other. they (anderson and duchovny) even cater to the fans a bit, but at the end of the day that’s their business and they don’t owe us an explanation, and a lot of people in fandom sort of act like they do. the point of this example was that because people in fandom are divided about this point of view, if you talk about one side or the other, there are some people who will come at you and say mean things for not agreeing with you, and try to convince you of a truth they have no real authority to speak about. this is obviously just an example, but online bullying is rampant and is often taken personally and can really affect the person being bullied, especially someone younger who may or may not be already facing that in real life at school lol.

i think tumblr is a good place for people who suffer from mental illness to come together in a healthy way to talk through their problems (god i hope i’m telling the truth), and there’s definitely tons of awareness and support that you’ll get on tumblr that you may not find in the real world. for example, i don’t know anyone irl who has epilepsy who i can talk to about mine. on tumblr i’ve talked with people who understand what i’m going through. i think that self diagnosis online, just as much on tumblr as it is when i cough and search “signs of throat cancer or tuberculosis’, read up on web md, and immediately fear my days might be numbered, is a problem. on tumblr i think we’re introduced to concepts and can sometimes treat mental illness lightly, when it shouldn’t. if you’re suffering from a mental illness, the online world isn’t going to be the place that can completely help you (says the girl who refuses to go to therapy and instead complains online about how she’s not getting any better). 

being online immediately takes us out of life and into a different world. we become observers instead of experiencing the world. there’s good stuff about observation, but being online and attached to a website that is more or less just a vice for people will often make us choose to be on our phones instead of doing stuff in real life.

all of these points being said, i’m guilty of a lot of the “bad/unhealthy” facets of tumblr, but as i’ve “grown up” (unfortunately still staying on tumblr for a good portion of that time) i’ve grown out of a lot of these things and can see the good and the bad that the online world has to offer, and know which parts to stay away from. i can recognize that spending too much time on here does nothing for my desire to stay inside and not experience the real world. it also makes me think a lot more about tv shows/films/celebrities than i need to. but i’ve also made great friends from being on tumblr over the years, and gotten support i definitely wouldn’t have gotten in real life. 

back to my real life. do i encourage the girls i live with to be interested in certain media? yes, especially stuff i feel has a good message. i basically sat the two older ones down and showed them the pilot of the x-files. do they experience the same high level obsession i do with tv shows/movies? no. and i’m glad for that. they like to lose themselves in certain tv shows, but when the tv is off they don’t really talk about it. do i introduce them to things i’m interested in media-wise? yes. do i introduce them to books and music i was/am interested in? yes. have i told them about tumblr? no. they don’t have any access to my online “presence” (they don’t know my instagram, twitter, etc), and i don’t talk about it. when my computer is out and they’re in the room doing homework, i’m usually writing. granted, that’s usually fanfiction, but at least i’m writing something. 

one of the boys i tutor is writing a book (he’s 11) which is basically a self insert that takes place in the harry potter universe. he doesn’t know what fanfiction is, and i haven’t told him (although he’d never type it up and put it online lol he barely knows how to turn the computer on), but i’m so thrilled he’s even writing that i make him sit down and write for 10 minutes before we ever start watching a movie (in english). 

ANYWAY. i’m nobody’s mother and at the end of the day i’m posting this online on my stupid blog where nothing i say matters or has any influence anywhere, but i think kids should be able to enjoy a non-internet related childhood as long as possible. some of us on tumblr are old enough to actually have children that age, and as much as we like having an account on this site, if asked this same question we might not as readily say ‘yeah it’s great! i want my teenagers to have the same experience as me!’

there’s my two centimes. hope i answered your question. JuST MY OPINION.

[sarahbethimagines]

Chapter 13: Get Along

Chapter Log!

Michelle had shown up at house unexpected, and uninvited later on that same Friday. And somehow, someway convinced me that going to the gathering would be a good thing. Sitting in the passenger seat of her 8-year old Camry. I was still trying to decide if she'd been right or not. KISS 95.9 was currently playing on the radio. Love in This Club by Usher blasting through the speakers. And at just number eight on their top-forty countdown, it had me counting the mile markers on I-83. Just praying each one would be the last we'd pass.

I'd asked Michelle just about a hundred and seven times since she'd shown up at my door where we were going. And each and every time I did, she gave me the same cookie cutter response. Just a small smirk, and a "you'll see" that had my eyes rolling and my brain contemplating just ending it all. But in Heinz sight, if shitty radio play and a sketchy best-friend were the worst things I had going on in my day, I guess I was doing okay. Still, I impatiently tapped my fingers on my tanned knees the entire remainder of the drive. Only stopping when she suddenly slowed down and pulled off the main road and onto an uneven dirt path. One that certainly didn't look like it was meant for any form of recreational use in the past generation or so. "Okay, where on Earth are we actually going?" I asked at the sight of it. Our small bodies bouncing and swinging around in the cab of her car as it jumped and jostled. Thanking God for the second time in my life for inventing the seatbelt. "Lord, is your patients as thin you are!" She joked, rolling her eyes. And I couldn’t help but start to mutter under my breath for a greater power above to give me some patience. Because if I was handed strength in that moment I probably would have just up and punched her. She was the one that dragged me out to the middle of nowhere and wouldn’t tell me where she taking me to probably get wacked and left for dead. But thankfully for both me, and Michelle's arm a second later she somehow managed to round a brushed corner without bottoming out her little gold car. Pulling into a large open field. We rode down the grass and destroyed patches of road, kept in a straight line by sporadic metal posts till we passed a small white structure caving in on itself. Other cars soon came into view. An array of varying vehicles from little ones like Michelle's to large pickups were parked in a semi-circle, people gathered in the middle. And soon I spotted the most bizarre thing just beyond the group. A towering fifty-foot-tall screen stood sky high. Small white panels pealing at places and completely missing in others leaving nothing but holes or exposed plywood. We were at an old drive-in movie theater. My eyes were probably the size of bowling balls by the time she'd parked her car and turned to me, calling my attention back to her. "You good?" She asked simply. And I looked out through her windshield at the group of people wandering around. Unable to make out exact faces. "I'll be right beside you the whole time if you get overwhelmed." I nodded thoughtfully and chewed on my lip. Not daring to make moves to unbuckle myself, even when Michelle did. There were about twelve or so people in the group if my math was correct. And all things considered, there was probably one person I knew for certain, and only two to three others whom I'd just recognize. "Tweedle Dee?" She called again, probably noticing my internal debate. I looked over to see her now up and out of her car, standing in its open door. "Just remember, all these people are your friends, whether you remember them or not." I nodded my head and forced my hands to move. "You're right" I muttered, crawling out of the car. I tried to repeat Dr. Walker's words in my head, telling myself how this would help me remember. But it was kind of hard to once Michelle ran around to me. She hooked her arm in mine and lead us off towards the crowd, rambling the entire time about how excited everyone would be to see me. But I didn’t need her assuring words for long. Because the second we drew close enough to identify, a long-legged, skunk haired kid was running right at us. "KENNERS!" He screeched, straggly arms waving through the air. A trail of dust being kicked up behind his brightly colored Nikes as he stormed towards us, throwing himself at me the second he could. His sternum crashed into my cheek with full force, knocking me back a few steps and clean into a memory. "Allright, everyone! Listen up!" Jack shouted, from behind me. Causing everyone in our small huddle to turn around and see the raven-haired boy by Alex's truck. His long limbs contorted in strange and certainly uncomfortable ways as he swung himself up onto the dropped tailgate and rose to his feet. Bible in his left hand he'd swiped from the glove box, was then used to tap the beer bottle clutched in the other. Once a gift from Alex's grandmother after his confirmation was now just a prop. His feeble attempts to make any sound fell short. But still, everyone around who hadn't already been watching on turned to see what the commotion was. The air was warm as it swirled around us, ice cold Coronas and Busch Light cans were in everyone's hands as we gathered in the center of our favorite spot in town. The old abandoned Timonium Drive In. It was the core of the summer, and the usually scorching sun just begun to set, dipping slightly behind the large screen which somehow still stood. But Alex's skin was still speckled with sweat as he threw a bare arm around my shoulders. Warm sun-tanned skin sticking to my own. I knew just as well as the boy beside me that the fleeting light wouldn’t stop that twenty-person party from raging on into the night. And as the golden hour shined down on Jack where he towered above us, it was as good of an assumption as any. "Tuesday, July 15th 2005 will be a day for us all to remember!" He shouted, beginning to walk back and forth across the rusted bed. "A day greatness was released from the womb of the greatest band to ever come from the suburbs of Baltimore, Maryland and out into the world!" "Pretty sure were the only ones in the area!" Rian hollered from behind. His arm slung causally around Kara's waist. "Shut up, I'm giving a speech you, turd licker!" Jack laughed, "Today, we as a band, released our first ever full-length album, The Party Scene!" And on that note, everyone started to cheer. Hoots were hollered and beers were sipped but Jack wasn’t quite done there. He kept on talking, pacing and swinging his drink as though he here Charlie Champlin. And our small group of friends were watching his movie. "You don't get much for certain in this life, and we sure as Hell didn't think this little garage band would make it this far, that’s for damn sure!" He drunkenly rambled. "But as I stand here, managing to convince you all somehow that what I'm about to say may have some hidden wisdom or be sweet and meaningful to hold onto and laugh about in years to come. I'll tell you right now, you're dead-fucking-wrong." "Oh, then just get on with it!" Another friend yelled. "Well," Jack popped, coming to a stop and turning to face us all. "I would, but to be honest I forgot what I had to say the second, I climbed up onto this truck. So, I'll just say what mamma Merrick always has. All you're really given is the sunshine and your name!" "My mom doesn’t say that?" Zack chimed in, and not a second later the most miraculous thing I'd ever seen started to happened. As though mother nature was toying with Jack's mention of the sunshine pouring over us all. Not a second more passed before small drops of water began to fall from the sky. And I couldn't even begin to describe just how magical the chorus of our laughter sounded in that moment of time. "Look what you've done now, you fuck!" Rico manically yelled as one drop became two, and then three. And before we knew it large rain drops began to fall all around us from the still sunlit sky. In a matter of seconds, the mere drizzle was a full-blown downpour and people began to scatter. I was ripped from the memory almost as quickly as I'd been knocked into it. Looking up once I could to see Alex holding Jack by the shoulder and rolling his eyes. "You're going to crush her to death if you squeeze her like that!" "Well, I'm not going to apologize for it!" He laughed, turning to me and letting his black and bleached hair fall into his eyes. "I've missed you Kenn, like the dessert misses the rain!" His small, clueless remark made me laugh a little too hard at its relation to my memory. But still, my shoulders instantly rolled back. Now free from his death-like grip and much more relaxed than they'd been just moments before in the car. "I've missed you too, you crazy." I smiled. Not knowing exactly what I'd been missing, but the words felt right as they rolled off my tongue. He smiled at me, big brown eyes glistening in the fading sunlight. I could practically see the sporadic thoughts bouncing through his skull as he tossed an arm around my shoulder and started to walk. "Well how 'bout we say hi to everyone else who's been missing you almost as much as I have." I could hear Alex and Michelle's steps as they followed close behind. Talking softly to one another as Jack lead me by my neck towards the crowd. A few slowly turned around one by one to our direction. But not everyone had seemed to notice us approach, most just carried on with their loud conversations over the even louder music flowing from a Jeep. But one boy seemed to pick up on my presence instantly, a smile spreading across his face I could see clearly from even a foot away how bright and perfect his teeth were. He was a broader man, his head was buzzed, and subtle tuffs of scruff lined his jaw. He didn't look like anyone I'd pictured before, but for some reason my brain drew a connection I didn't even know was there upon seeing that smile of his. "Hey Rian," I waved. His already large smile growing even bigger as he managed to pull me out from under Jacks arm. Tugging me instantly into a brief, firm hug. "How are you?" "I'm good!" He nodded and let go. His smile still so wide I was beginning to think he would start to catch flies soon enough. "How are you, how have you been doing?" "I mean, I've certainly been better." I shrugged, trying to laugh it off like I'd been getting in the habit of doing. He just gave me a knowing nod. "I'm sure, but hey, Alex has been telling us you've been coming along pretty good!" He said motioning to the singer who'd stepped up beside Jack. Already blushing profusely by the time I'd looked over. "Is that true?" "It is..." I dragged. Watching for a second with a smile as Alex kept his hidden before I looked to my other side at Michelle. The shorter brunette shooting me a grin. "I didn't know Alex talked about me so much." "No more than he used to!" Rian laughed, receiving a swift smack to the arm by his shaggy-headed friend. "Alright, well that's enough of a re-introduction to Rian, I think!" Alex cut in right after, deciding that conversation was dead and buried. Being quick to replace Jack's place at my side as he grabbed my hand and hauled me off to the others. Being dragged around that makeshift party and being re-introduced to person after person in my life was a lot of things. For starters, it was outright just a lot. A lot to take in, a lot to digest, a lot of fresh names in the bank, a lot of faces I just straight up didn’t recognize, and a lot that I vaguely did but had no idea of why. It was confusing at times, but fun at others. For instance, when I was put in front of a boy with a rather interesting last name, I remembered him. Not much, but now at least I know Alex Grieco. And that I was assigned to be his guide when he came into Dulaney High just one year after the rest of us. And how we'd laughed the entire time at the fact that even I still didn't know how to get around that damned high school. And the entire time I had someone with me by my side walking me through it all. Either Alex, sipping a beer and sharing a story of something ridiculous and borderline unbelievable I’d done with someone. Or with Michelle, which I almost preferred, not that Alex wasn’t helpful. But purely because anytime someone that didn’t even begin to ring a bell would walk away, she'd turn to me and whisper a juicy bit of gossip on how I'd felt about them back in high school. All of which had the two of us laughing and snickering like immature school girls again. Eventually we'd all found ourselves gathered around Alex's truck. Zack was sat on top the truck's cab. Someone who I'd recognized almost instantly despite his drastic change in appearance from the dark and stormy kid I’d envisioned. I was perched on the tailgate, legs swinging over the edge. Wedged between Michelle and Alex while all the others wereeither sat in collapsible chairs or standing around. Each and every one having a story to share of a time they'd spent with me they just couldn't wait to get out. "And I just stood there, completely shocked," One kid Timmy, a rather robust individual told. "You just slapped the dude clean across the face, no warning or nothing!" "There is absolutely no way I did that!" I laughed along with everyone else. Leaning over and hiding my head in Michelle's long hair once Timmy was done telling his story of me. Large hands up in the air the entire time he explained it. "Oh, but you did, my little fire-cracker!" He pointed at me, exposing my bright red face to the whole group in the process. "Yeah that's a good one," Zack laughed from behind me, hopping down and making the truck jolt just a bit. "But not quite as good as the time we went to Dick's Last Resort!" "Oh, my gosh I almost forgot about that!" Michelle laughed, turning around to look up at Zack as he placed a hand on my totally confused shoulder. Everyone around me beginning to chuckle and nod. Each and every one seeming to recall the moment with ease. I on the other hand was having a much more difficult time. "Why, what happened at Dick's Last Resort?" "Well you know how the whole point of Dick's is that you go, and get those funny paper hats and the waiters basically just pick fun at and mock you the entire time?" Michelle excitedly asked, staring cheerily into my lost eyes. "I mean, kind of, I guess." I shrugged, trying to recall. Still not really seeing how this could lead to a memorable story. Unless my friends really thought a waiter laughing at me was just that hysterical. Which they just might of, honestly. "Well we all went there to celebrate something-" "My birthday!" "Yes," Zack sighed at Michelle's interruption. "And were just downright miserable the whole time! Our waiter was basically bullying you the entire meal. Calling you Scrooge, saying you could drive a preacher to drink with an attitude like yours all this crazy shit!" "Eventually you basically snapped!" Jack chimed in with a chortle. "What did I do?" I asked, genuinely a little worried to hear their responses. But I of course was only immediately answered with a wide variation of laugher. "You made some absurd remark about being able to charm the dew off a honeysuckle or something bizarre like that and went on this hilarious little rant about how cheery of a person you were!" Zack started again, "But then you made the big ole mistake of spewing out that you used to be a cheerleader!" "I was a cheerleader?" I asked, not believing it for a second as I turned to the grinning boy. Scrunching my nose up at his smile. "Not that we knew of!" He chuckled, shrugging a bit. "You cheered for a little later on in high school and hated it they were so bad, but I guess in Boston you were really good at it." "Yeah, you were smoking at the ears practically when our waiter only started to pick on you more, saying that you probably couldn’t get your scrawny legs of the ground!" Michelle laughed, borderline crying she was giggling so hard. "Hey, this is my story for Kenn!" Zack snipped, smacking her lightly on the top of her head. "But yeah, like she said, you were pissed as all Hell, and you made a bet with the guy that if you got up on their stage right then and there and did a back flip that he couldn't say one more word to you the rest of the night!" "I didn’t know I could do a back flip!" I chocked, looking wide-eyed at my boney knees swinging over the tailgate's edge. "Yeah, neither did we!" The boy continued to laugh. "We all thought for sure you were about to eat hardwood when you got up on the platform, but crazily enough you landed it! Still probably the coolest thing I've seen you do." "We did get banned for a year though because of it..." Rian muttered. And everyone started to laugh again. Including me this time. "I don't know, Zack..." Jack sang, taking his turn as he sloshed his beer around in its can. "I think the concerning number of drunk backflips she's done in Gaskarth's back yard would have that story beat!" "I did not do back flips drunk!" I laughed, shaking my head in utter disbelief. "Oh, sweet pea," Michelle sighed, "You've done so many, so far from sober we lost count after fifteen or so." An eruption of laughter exploded through the friend group after that. And I laughed along ever so slightly and I fell, red-faced into Alex's side. "I didn't realize how crazy I was growing up..." I chuckled. So soft probably only the singer had heard. He just sighed and wrapped his arm around my back. Pulling my blushing form closer into him. "It's one of the many, many things we all love about you. Kennedy Paige."

[xroguex1027]

1 through 50!!

Go big or go home I guess. Ask and you shall receive. (insert grand gesture here.)

1.  Middle Name: Michelle (Both atm)

2. How old are you: 23 (Me) 26 (Rogue)

3. Birthday:  Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. ;) (Both)

4.Zodiac: Scorpio (Both)

5. Favorite Color: A hypnotist told me that red would make me very happy for the rest of my life. A six-year-old urchin fortune teller told her her favorite color would be green. (In real life it was just a kid with a cootie catcher) So…Red and Green but not together. Purple is cool too, and warm grey, and silver, golden brown… (Both)

6. Lucky Number: Four (Both)

7. Pets: Yes (Both)

8. Where are you from …here…wherever that is… MO if I’m being serious. Actually technically I live in the most dangerous state in my country, last I heard at least. Rogue is from Vesuvia though…

9. Height: 5″5.5 apparently, that extra half inch matters to my physician. (Both)

10. Shoe size: 8.5 (Both)

11. How many foot prisons do you own? So sorry *shoes: Black boots, Brown boots, Both ankle high and one Water shoes wait…one pair of tennis shoes (Me) One pair of knee-high boots, and one pair of ankle high boots (Rogue) 

12. Last Dreams: Pulling ticks out of my feet, Riding horses, In a hospital with girls I didn’t get along with (Me) Pulling leaches out of her skin, Riding horses, Being in an asylum, (Rogue) Reoccurring dreams about Bears, Wolves, and Bats (Both) Honestly if you ever want to know about my dreams shoot me an ask, I remember them every night.

13. Talents: Writing, Poetry, Good With Kids, Good With Animals, Finding Four Leaf Clovers, Drawing, Painting, Capable of splitting tongue down the middle (Both)

Silks and Fire Hooping…sort of (Rogue) I’m still working on these.

Oh and magic tricks (Both)

14. Psychic in any way: My world is governed by bizarre coincidences and Dramatic Irony. I’ve guessed some inexplicable things before. However, having O.C.D. makes me think I have more power than I do. I hope. Oh God, I hope. Same goes for Rogue.

15….we’re almost there right? I wished this upon myself. Favorite Song: The Pin by the Googoodolls. If I can only pick one. Most Googoodolls songs. (Me) Over the Hills and Far Away, or Siularuin (Rogue) Maybe I’ll write some headcanons for Vesuvia songs…

16.Favorite Movie: Big Fish (Me) What’s a movie? (Rogue) She has a favorite story though…

17. Ideal Partner: Honestly Julian Devorak, I hate to be cliche but he is extremely close to who I see myself with. Scientist, Animal Lover, Compassionate, Snarky, Rebel. So him or… Peter Petrelli, or Flynn Rider, or Jack Frost, or Dimitri from Anastasia, or some other troublemaker with a good heart and a sense of adventure, Pheobus, Will Turner, Aragorn…newt Scamander maybe…. mmmm Qrow Branwin (Wow you’de think someone who likes so many people would have a way easier time finding a real person. :P)

18. Do you want children: Sometimes I really don’ t know (Me) Not Yet! (Rogue)

19. Do you want a church wedding? Yes (Both) But also outside somewhere too.

20. 2/5ths there. Are you religious? Yes. I pray and I believe in God, But I’m still struggling to understand. I’m not a perfect Cristian. I’m baffled by the Bible and skeptical of anything edited by man. I’m like three-fifths Cristian and two fifths spiritual?… (Both)

21. Hospital: Car accident when I was seven. Everybody was fine except the car. (Me) Don’t Remember (Rogue)

22. Got into trouble with the law: Working On It ;) (Both)

23. Met any celebs: No…? Well they aren’t celebs yet but I believe in them. ;)

24. ….To Be Continued… 

Okay, I’m back

where were we?

Ah. 24. Baths or Showers? Baths are preferred(Both)

25. What color socks are you wearing? You mean padding for foot prisons? None (Both)

Whoo! Halfway!

26. Ever Been Famous: Not yet...we’ll see (me) No but Nadia makes me feel like I am (Rogue)

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? Only so I can be on Jimmy Fallon and play games (Me) No? (Rogue)... but I would like to get out of the shop.

28. Music: Alternative Rock, Epic Orchestral, Movie Soundtracks (Me) Pub songs and Ancient tunes passed down through generations sometimes Polca (Rogue)

29. Ever been skinny Dipping: On my bucket list (Me) Maybe...(Rogue)

30. How many pillows? Looks around at the dozen or so pillows in my bed “two” (Me) Less than a dozen? (Rogue) I honestly don’t even know how they all got here.

31. What position do usually sleep in: Straddle the nearest thing to me (usually a blanket) and then do the bbq grill flip ever fifteen minutes, repeat. Wake up in the middle of the night strangled by your own hair (Both)

32. How big is your house? Small? (Me) You mean the shop? (Rogue)

33. Breakfast on a normal day: Coffee (Both)

34. Ever fired a gun? Once or twice no clue what it was though...desert eagle? Or is that a roller coaster? (Me) Once, a musket (Rogue)

35. Ever tried archery? Keyword: Tried (Both)

36. Clean Word: Aesthetic, Ambiance, Peculiar (Me) Ambiance, Peculiar (Rogue)

37. Sware Word: The F-word has many diverse uses. Particularly after placing pennies over the eyes of the dead (Me) Oh F**ck if I gave a F**ing F**ck about any F**ing word I f**ing love to f*ck with the word Ass.               

38. Longest you’ve ever gone without sleep, twenty-something hours? I’m a baby. Even Rogue probably takes naps throughout the day.

39. Do you have any scars: One from when I was delivered as a baby under my right eye, impossible to see, One on my hand from a very intentional leach bight (I got said bite before the arcana game even came out) One on my arm from Olivia’s brother’s bird. On the kneecaps from trying to fly (Both)

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? If I knew they wouldn’t be my secret admirer now would they? Rogue has a few, they make her uncomfortable.

41. Are you a good liar? Yes but I’m also gullible so I often fall for my own lies (Both)

42. Good Judge of Character: One of my greater strengths (Both)

43. Can you do other accents: Boy oh boy can I do accents. (Proceeds to talk to you while switching from accent to accent as smoothly as possible.) (Both)

44. Strong Accent: Not recognizable to me (Both)

45. Favorite accent: To speak or to hear? Irish for both (Both) Australian is up there.

46. Personality Type: ANFP Ambivert, Neurotic? Feeling, Perceiving Idk it’s all B.S. (Both) Uh...Awesome (Rogue)

47. The most expensive piece of clothing: Foe Leather Jacket (Me) Knee High Brown Boots (Rogue)

48. Curl Tongue? Yup and split it down the middle (Both)

49. Innie or Outie: Innie (Both)

50. Left or right hand: Lefty all the way!

[aion-rsa]

I Think You Should Leave Season 2: Ranking Every Sketch

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How on Earth did we survive two years without new episodes of Netflix’s brilliant sketch comedy series I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson? The first batch of six episodes premiered on April 23 of 2019 and proved instantly iconic. 

Contained within the season’s roughly two-dozen sketches was absolutely hilarious and essential comedy that provided ample memetic kindling for the internet’s conversational fire. For the focused enough mind, it’s entirely possible to communicate with one’s friends exclusively in I Think You Should Leave memes. Lord knows, I’ve tried it.

Thankfully, ITYSL season 2 has finally arrived on Netflix after its COVID-19 delay. It features 28 sketches that range from “pretty funny” to “I can’t stop laughing. Oh God, I can’t stop laughing. It hurts, surely this is the end. Surely, I will die.”

Check out our rankings below and then begin yelling at our chances like Spectrum is dropping your network.

28. Credit Card Roulette

If nothing else, Tim Robinson and I Think You Should Leave co-creator Zach Kanin are incredible comedy scouts. Through two seasons, the show’s sketches have been a who’s who of up-and-coming comedic talent, like the wonderful John Early who is featured in this sketch. Unfortunately Early is not served well by the material here, which doesn’t rise to the same ludicrous heights as season 2’s other sketches. The best moment is Early’s immediate resolve that he’s not paying the bill, but the sketch doesn’t go too far after that. 

27. Dave’s Poop Double

The sketch that serves as the cold open of season 2’s final episode doesn’t get things off to the best start. The concept of Tim’s “Luka” hiring a guy who looks just like his coworker Dave to take monster shits every time he gets up is certainly fun but missing an important layer of added absurdity. Luka is probably the best name for any of Robinson’s random characters yet though.

26. Little Buff Boys Pt. 2

Season 2 features many more callbacks to previous sketches than the first season did. This followup to Little Buff Boys is the worst of the bunch but still quite funny. Perhaps the only thing more absurd than a Little Buff Boys competition is someone being proud of running “one of” the biggest LBB competitions in the Greater Cincinnati area. This sketch also passes up an easy Cincinnati Chili joke in favor of creating the truly vile “cherry chuck salad.”

25. Detective Crashmore Trailer

This trailer for action thriller Detective Crashmore is funny enough on its own but doesn’t reach another comedic level until the AOL Blast interview two sketches later. Still, I unironically want to see an action film with a lead character whose main quip is “Eat fucking bullets, you fuckers. You fucking suck. You fucking SUCK!”

24. I Should Have Got That

I Think You Should Leave deserves a big spread in AARP magazine. No other sketch show revels in the talents of older comedians quite like this one. After 81-year-old comedian Ruben Rabasa stole the show in season 1, season 2 ups the ante with many more sketches letting old folks shine. It’s Bob McDuff Wilson’s turn this time around and his child-like obsession with his student’s burger kills right up until the shockingly dark kicker.

23. Office Surfing

“I almost killed myself, Jullliieeeeee” is one of the best line-reads of the season. The sketch it’s built around isn’t too remarkable but man, does Robinson knock that one out of the park. 

22. “No, I Don’t Know How to Drive”

This is a quickie but a goodie. Robinson’s characters break down in tears quite often this season and this is one of the better occasions. How far have Tim’s characters come – from reveling in the existence of four-wheeled motorcycles to looking at the inside of a car and weeping “I don’t know what any of this shit is and I’m fucking scared.”

21. The Capital Room

Speaking of top tier comedic talent, thank God Patti Harrison stopped by another season of I Think You Should Leave. This time around, we get two heaping doses of Patti. This one, the first of the two, is the inferior but still quite great. In the span of roughly 30 seconds, Harrison unveils the saga of a woman who A. Got sewn into the pants of the Thanksgiving Day parade Charlie Brown float, B. Hates all bald boys, C. Sued the city and won a fortune, D. Is now helplessly addicted to wine, and E. Is tragically self-aware that her money will run out soon.

20. But It’s Lunch

Just like last year’s opening sketch, “But It’s Lunch” (this is probably a good time to mention, that I’m naming all of these things myself. You could very easily call this the Hotdog sketch but that would confuse it with last year’s hotdog sketch) sets the perfect opening mood. The sight gag of Robinson’s Pat trying to stealthily eat a hotdog is wonderful, and the fact that things so quickly escalate to hotdog surgery and puke is just sublime. 

19. Carber Hotdog Vacuum

The follow-up to “But It’s Lunch” occurs a full two episodes later and proves to be a hell of a pay-off. Robinson’s unnamed character (who is obviously Pat) very quickly reveals that there is one very specific reason he made this hotdog vacuum invention and you’ll never guess what it was. We all make mistakes. We shouldn’t be fired for them.

18. Insider Trading Trial (Stupid Hat)

This sketch somewhat mimics the experience of trying to explain what I Think You Should Leave is like to someone who has never seen it. “So, this guy took too small a slice of toilet paper…” or “…and then he has to have to have sex with his mother-in-law.” “Insider Trading” rotely describes the bizarre behaviors of one of Robinson’s deeply strange characters, Brian, as it’s being read into the court record. Brian and his stupid fedora with the safari flaps is in attendance to provide a visual aid. As are some hilarious flashbacks in which Brian attempts to roll the hat down his arm like Fred Astaire and instead encounters only wheelchair grease. 

17. The Ice Cream Store is Closed Today

Before he was a criminal lawyer, Bob Odenkirk was one of the most legendary sketch writers of all time. It’s only fitting that he stop by ITYSL season 2 to provide his comedic blessing. Odenkirk is great from the get-go but this one doesn’t really get rolling until the end when Robinson finds himself truly immersed in the fictional life of this sad old man. “His wife’s sick but she’s gonna get better” is a shockingly emotional moment amid pure farce.

16. Barbie and the Blues Brothers

This is the sketch that climbed the most in my rankings upon a second viewing. What first seemed to be a waste of Conner O’Malley’s manic comedic energy became a semi-classic once I submitted to its strange vibes. I don’t even know what to call this one but Robinson’s character refusing to stop dancing as Barbie the dog melts down is hilarious. O’Malley is better served by last season’s “honk if you’re horny” sketch, still he gets some bangers in this time around like “She thinks he’s a whole new guy because of the glasses and the hat” and “it’s her house, she’s doing what’s right!” Robinson once again closes this nonsense out with some well-earned tears. “It’s just me, Barbie. I’m not the Blues Brothers.”

15. Jaime Taco (I Love My Wife)

“Jamie Taco” is a prime example of just how rapidly (and how well) I Think You Should Leave is able to veer into pure nonsensical genius. At the top, this sketch comes perilously close to making an actual statement about how men are too quick to pretend like their wives are horrible nags. This sketch, however, has its sights set on something much dumber…and therefore better. Our hero (played hilariously by Richard Jewell’s Paul Walter Hauser) loves his wife because she helped him through his darkest moment, which just so happens to be when snotty young actor Jamie Taco refused to let him say his Henchman lines in a play.

14. Comos Restaurant 

All hail the return of the great Tim Heidecker! Heidecker, of Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! fame, is one of the few comedians with a strange enough sensibility to be reasonably seen as an I Think You Should Leave forerunner. His season 1 turn as a walnut-obsessed jazz douche is a classic and this one reaches similar heights. This time, Heidecker’s character, Gary, and his lovely date, Janeane (Tracey Birdsall), have good reason to be annoyed by their date night at the sci-fi cosmos restaurant being interrupted by some hacky jokes. Of course, they use this opportunity to reveal that Jeannine’s mom used to drink puke for the Davy and Rascal radio show to pay for school supplies. It’s oddly refreshing to have a Heidecker character given a game partner and Gary and Janeane make one great team.

13. Detective Crashmore Interivew

While the Detective Crashmore trailer is the setup, this interview with AOL Blast is the punchline. Detective Crashmore is played by Santa Claus, because why not? Actor Biff Wiff’s gruff, nasally Midwestern timber is the perfect accent to accompany this lunacy. This is a Santa who in one breath demands to be taken seriously as an actor (Billy Bob Thornton-style) and in the next admits to seeing everyone in the world’s dick.

12. Sloppy Steaks (I Used to Be a Piece of Shit)

From here on out, it’s nothing but absolute homeruns. “Sloppy Steaks” could very well have been number one on this list and few would have batted an eye. The setup here is amazing as it gives Tim Robinson a reason to essentially have beef with a baby. The baby cries because he knows Robinson used to be a piece of shit. But don’t babies understand that people can change? That’s funny enough to begin with, but the real gut-busting moment here is the reveal of what “being a piece of shit” really means. In this case it means slicking one’s hair back and dousing the steaks at Truffoni’s with water to make sloppy steaks.

11. Johnny Carson Impersonator

Just a quick rundown for those who are confused…

Johnny Carson = Can Hit. George Kennedy = Can’t Hit. George Bush = Can’t Hit. 

10. Driving School (Her Job is Tables)

This is the rare I Think You Should Leave sketch that actually provides an answer to all the lunacy. As Robinson’s character’s Driver’s Ed class watches Patti Harrison’s actress in some dated videos, they can’t help but wonder what she does for a living. “Tables,” Robinson answers over and over again. This would be funny enough on its own but the reveal that Harrison provides tables to Monster Cons is a rare and valuable moment of “Ohhhhh that’s why” for this show. Equally as valuable is Harrison, who really sells that those tables are her lifeblood.

9. Claire’s Ear-Piercings

One has to wonder how much time goes into choosing the perfect “order” for the sketches in I Think You Should Leave. Two seasons in a row now, the show has selected pitch perfect opening and closing sketches. This closing number is oddly melancholic as the Claire’s orientation video for girls who want to get their ears pierced somehow gives way to one 58-year-old man named Ron Tussbler’s existential dread. If we really get to see the “highlights” after we die, forcibly fake laughing every ten minutes to make the voyeuristic experience all the richer sounds like a good strategy and not sad at all. Hang in there, Ron.

8. Little Buff Boys Competition

What. A. Crop. It was a virtual certainty that ITYSL season 2 would feature a spiritual successor to the classic “Baby of the Year” sketch in season 1. Thank God “Little Buff Boys” is up to the challenge of replicating that magic. This one has all the right elements to be another hit: Sam Richardson (in a wig this time, no less), a grand pageant hall, and some precocious youths. Troll Boy also joins the canon of young ITYSL characters who everybody instinctively hates alongside Bart Harley Jarvis.

7. Tammy Craps

There’s something weirdly nefarious about this commercial for a poisonous doll that doesn’t have farts in her head anymore. It’s a criticism of late stage capitalism crossed with the cursed nature of the Annabelle movies…while not being like either of those things at all. In reality, this is just another absurdist concept sprung from the terrifying inner depths of the writing staff’s mind. It also happens to be a particularly great one. The girl weighing her clothes down with rocks so she can hit the magical 60-pound threshold to safely play with Tammy Craps is one of the best gags of the season.

6. Karl Havoc

“Little Buff Boys Competition” and another upcoming sketch are likely to produce the lion’s share of memes and quotes from this season of ITYSL. But the one quote that’s stuck in my mind most aggressively comes from this hilarious episode 1 clip. The sight of Robinson’s Carmine Laguzio posing as the dead-faced freakshow Karl Havoc and muttering “I don’t want to be around anymore” is quite simply one of the funniest things I’ve ever witnessed. This is a marvelous, unnerving, utterly hilarious sketch. That there are somehow five better sketches speaks to how strong this season is. 

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5. Dan Flashes Pt. 1 (Office)

I Think You Should Leave is now two for two in introducing the most cutting edge items in men’s fashion. Season 1 featured the arrival of the highly practical TC Tugger shirt. Now season 2 ups the ante with the stylish Dan Flashes. This sketch succeeds because it takes a simple question “Why is Mike laying down during a business meeting?” and divines the most outlandish answer possible. Mike isn’t eating because he’s spending all his money on Dan Flashes shirts. 

4. Dan Flashes Pt. 2 (Hotel Menu)

It’s one thing to introduce a hilarious concept, it’s another thing entirely to put it into practice. This second entry into the Dan Flashes canon is amazing. Back in part 1, it seemed as though the intricate patterns on the Dan Flashes shirts have a hypnotic effect on men who look exactly like Tim Robinson. Seeing the reality of that – pasty men battling one another to get their credit cards to the cashier before the other – is truly hilarious stuff.

3. Coffin Flop

This is the second sketch of the entire season…the second! And holy shit, does it set a strong precedent for what’s to come. This impassioned message from the Corncob TV CEO for Spectrum to save his network and its precisely one television program is a masterclass in shock humor. Watching body after body busting out of shit wood somehow never loses its grim luster. Somehow, in a sketch that features dozens of naked corpses flopping to the ground unexpectedly, it’s Robinson’s monologue that hits the hardest. “This world is so fucked up. And people are mad at me because I showed a bunch of naked dead bodies with their spread blue butts flying out of boxes? Really?”

2. Calico Cut Pants

Every episode of I Think You Should Leave season 2 features five sketches save for episode 4 which has only three. And that’s because episode 4 is dominated by a near 10-minute epic called “Calico Cut Pants.” In many ways, Calico Cut Pants is the platonic ideal of an ITYSL sketch. It takes place in a nightmarish world where every bizarre action only leads to an even more bizarre reaction. Nothing ever cools down. There is always something stranger on the horizon.

In this instance, Mike O’Brien (longtime SNL writer and the creator of the terminally underrated comedy A.P. Bio) plays an office drone who enters into a living hell merely because his co-worker helps him out of a mildly annoying social jam. Robinson’s character introduces him to a website that advertises pants with piss stains on them. That’s all well and good but once you know about Calicocutpants.com you Always. Have. To. Give. It’s like PBS, but more demonic. This remarkable sketch includes everything that’s great about this show, right down to characters with inexplicable idiosyncrasies like Tim Robinson’s adamance that doors must always be held open for him.

1. Ghost Tour

The funniest moment in ITYSL season 2 (and maybe the funniest moment in the history of the world) occurs in this sketch. Tim Robinson’s character has been admonished for his potty mouth during a ghost tour over and over again. The tour guide even said he’s ruining his job. But this poor man sincerely cannot understand why he’s in trouble. This is a tour for adults and he’s following the rules by using adult language. Like any good Robinson character, he truly believes that he’s the sane one and it’s the rest of the world that’s taking crazy pills.

So in his darkest moment, the man musters up his strength through tears and delivers the following query:

“Not trying to be funny. Not trying to get a laugh. I don’t want anybody to have the worst day at their job. But. Do any of these….fuckers….ever blast out of the wall and have, like a huge cum shot?”

Cue: riotous, damn near apocalyptic laughter. What a treasure and blessing this whole show is.

I Think You Should Leave season 2 is available to stream on Netflix now.

The post I Think You Should Leave Season 2: Ranking Every Sketch appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[greekowl87]

Fic: False Flags Redux (2/13)

Previous Chapters: (1)

Author’s Note: First off, thank you for all the feedback! I’m planning to post a chapter every Friday because with school and my new job starting next week, that is also the one day I have off guarantee. This second chapter is an early New Year’s Day gift and a way to even out the chapter distribution for my OCD part of self. I like even numbers rather than odd. I know, a little weird. And I am too excited for this fic so two chapters within 24 hours.

 As always, a million thank yous to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm and @scully-loves-ruthie for making this possible.

Tagging @today-in-fic .

2/13

IHOP Norfolk, Virginia December 13, 1998

In a small plastic booth wrought with fake morning cheer and pancake induce atmosphere, Mulder watched Scully from across the table absently push her scrambled eggs around her plate, ignoring the short stack of pancakes she had her heart set on, as he sipped his coffee. She rested cheek on one propped up hand while she left fiddling her eggs in favor of picking at the mixed fruit. “You have to eat something besides the fruit. We’re not going to the jail with you acting like this,” he said softly, choosing his tone carefully.

Scully arched an eyebrow and then rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Acting like what? You’re worse than my mother,” she grumbled, checking her watch. “It’s only 6:23. We could just go there now.”

“We will be there at nine a.m. promptly,” he scolded softly. “More than enough time for you to eat something and for us to talk. We did not have to leave the hotel so quickly, by the way, this morning. I was looking forward to a real intercontinental breakfast, Scully. Were you trying to pull a fast one on me?”

“I really wanted pancakes instead of waffles,” she shrugged. “What are you now? My psychologist?” She looked up, her blue eyes sparkled teasingly although her tone suggested otherwise.

He gave a small smile. “Well, I do love delving into your mind over breakfast. Shows you that I am more than a one night stand. And remember, Scully, smart is sexy. Besides, tit for tat. You patch up the bullet wounds you give me, I fix any recurring dreams about you giving a speech in your underwear.”

“You are more than that,” she said softly. She dropped her fork in favor of sipping her own coffee. “You want me to talk about earlier this morning.” It was a statement rather than a question. “About yesterday.”

“That’s the plan,” he encouraged. “I know you don't like opening up about those sort of things, but I could try and help you, Scully.”

Scully nodded and took a moment to appreciate the easy camaraderie that they had. Things had been little rough with the appearance of Diana Fowley a few months ago, and not to mention the whole her-getting-an-alien-virus-and-Mulder-going-to-Antarctica-saving-her thing, but things had gotten easier again too, but things were still tense. Mulder and Scully made lousy dance partners; one step forward and two steps back. Their matching little desks next to each other in the bullpen almost recreated the private little bubble they had in the basement office as they performed menial tasks. Her and Mulder very rarely saw Fowley and Spender, which was perfectly fine with her.

“You asked me about Tennessee earlier,” he prompted. “About knowing how it was real or what was real.” She nodded after a moment. “I don’t. I cannot recall anything consciously. I don’t have memories or impressions. I mean, maybe a bit after the regression therapy, maybe. But not really. Maybe I was Biddle and you were my sergeant and Melissa was my wife. But I can’t consciously recall anything or remember anything. I have never had a dream about it if that is what you are asking. However, it is not unheard of people to dream about past lives or history. I mean, Norfolk is pretty eclectic in ways of history. Maybe we walked past something that triggered the dream.”

“Did you believe it though, Mulder?”

He licked his lips and sipped his coffee again, mulling his thoughts before he answered. “Then, perhaps. But now, no.” She let out a mock gasp. Mulder held up his hand dramatically, calling for silence. “I know, I know. The skeptic has influenced the believer. But she wasn't my wife. I can't explain how, Scully, but I just know.” He stared at her for a long moment, his hazel eyes taking her in like a drug. “There is someone else for me.”

Scully felt silly talking about this with him, even entertaining the notion. “I feel like I should know better, Mulder. I know there are other things that would have caused it like lack of sleep or maybe something on TV.”

“I’m not here making fun of you, am I?”

“Well, I feel like rare occasion I do talk about the idea of the unknown, our roles are reversed. You become the logical one and I become the spooky one.”

“See, we’re the perfect partners! Mr. and Mrs. Spooky!” Scully rolled her eyes with a smile and he picked a piece of hash brown off her plate and nodded towards the food. “Eat it before it gets cold.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You're not my mother. I thought you wanted me to talk.”

“You can do both, smartass. Now it's not often I have to spoon feed you, is it?”

Scully stuck out her tongue defiantly and Mulder just shrugged and ate the potato. She picked at the eggs slowly and began shaking her head and started to pick at her sodden syrup-laden pancakes. “I just...there was this neighborhood that looked like something out of Victorian times in the winter. And I was looking at someone. He had eyes like yours, Mulder. I remember his eyes.”

“Little ol’ me?” he tried to sound like a beauty queen. She gave a weak smile. “How can you be so certain they were mine?”

“I said like yours, I didn't say they were yours,” she corrected. They were his, a voice told her. But then again, maybe it wasn't his eyes? “I just remember gazing and the intensity of it, then I woke up.”

“Nothing else?”

She shook her head no. Mulder paused and stole another piece of potato from her plate. “Well,” he began after a long moment, “it could be nothing except your mind telling you that you’re in love with my eyes and it was just a dream.” She arched an eyebrow wordlessly. “Or there could be something to it.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you, Mulder?”

He gave her a warm smile and shook his head. “Not at all, Scully. You are crazy for not finishing your food.” He picked up his own fork and began to help himself to her plate. “Well, waste not want not.”

She pushed her plate to the center of the table as they both began to eat the last of her breakfast. “Well, I get to pick lunch today. It's only fair.” He nodded in concession. “And we're doing what I want to do. We're not eating burgers.”

. . . .

Regional Jail Portsmouth, Virginia December 13, 1998

Mulder was unsureon whether to let Scully take the lead on this encounter. He remembered when they had caught Francis Buckley the year before. He and Scully had been called down to Norfolk, Virginia to investigate an odd murderer that had occurred at an old graveyard that the local newspapers teased about supernatural occurrences. That was enough for Mulder. But what they found was an ordinary, human killer. A very sick, deranged murderer but an ordinary murderer nonetheless. Between their tag-teaming, Mulder’s profile, and the findings of Scully’s autopsies, they were able to narrow in and capture Francis Buckley and find two more victims. He had thought Buckley was just your normal-run-of-the-mill murderer, nothing supernatural or paranormal about him.

But this morning, aside from the bizarre dream Scully confessed to him and her lack of sleep, she was on edge slightly. He knew she was flashing back to Boggs and that incident. As they walked through the parking lot and to the jail, he paused her mid-step by gently claiming her arm. “Scully, wait for a second,” he said softly.

“I can do this, Mulder,” she replied quickly.

“I’m not saying that,” he soothed. He stepped closer to her and entered her bubble. “I want to know how you want to go about this. Do you want me to take the lead, go in by yourself, or just me? We have to have a game plan here.”

She looked distantly at the jail and then back up to Mulder. She still felt unsettled, confused, much like she had yesterday morning in the courtroom. Scully knew better than to go at this alone and Mulder was offering her a hand instead of running off without her. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Take the lead,” she said softly after a moment. She looked up at him “But I want to be in there.”

He nodded after a moment. “You got it, Scully.”  Unconsciously, she sought his hand briefly, squeezed it, and let it go. “Let’s go.”

. . . .

Francis Buckley licked his lips thoughtfully as he watched the two FBI agents enter. Buckley was a large, round man in his thirties with dead brown eyes and oily hair, looking like he had been found in a pickling barrel. She looked nervous as if she was unsure what to do with him. Her partner loomed over her, watching quietly, like a gargoyle. “Well, Agent Scully,” he clapped his chained hands together. “I was not expecting that you would come. Tell me, how did you sleep last night? Well, I hope.”

The tall one sat in front of him as the woman crossed her arms and leaned against the dull wall behind him. She remained quiet as Mulder spoke. “What do you want, Buckley?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Agent Mulder. I did not mean to leave you out of our little conversation.” He lounged back in the metal chair, placing his hands behind his head, despite the handcuffs. He nodded to Scully. “I wanted to see Starbuck, not you.” He gazed past Scully and tapped his head. “I have friends, Dana. Someone told me your dad used to call you that. Best way to get your attention.”

She resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. He kept staring at her and it crawled under her skin. Mulder cleared his throat sharply and smiled insincerely. “Sorry. Must be the weather. What do you want?”

“You were always protecting her,” he sighed. “I want to talk to her. Why are you avoiding me, Dana?”

Anger flashed in his eyes as he resisted lashing out across the table. The gaze Buckley gave Scully made his skin crawl; it reminded him of Pfaster and every other low life that they had come across. But there was something more to that gaze, possessive almost like he was glancing at a piece of property. He lowered his gaze, never breaking it, and licked his lips like he was tasting something. Bastard.

“That’s enough!” Scully snapped.

Mulder turned his head quickly at the fury of her voice. It almost gave him whiplash. Her blue eyes blazed with an old fury, one he had never seen before.

“I. Don’t. Belong. To. You. I never did.” She seethed each word with a breath, her nostrils flared like an angry bull. “Got it? I never was yours.”

Mulder stood up quickly, spinning around. He placed a hand in warning on his partner's shoulder. She blinked as if coming out of a daze. She looked at Mulder and he saw fear briefly spark in her eyes before the cool, calm collected Agent Scully came back. “We’re done here, Mulder.”

“Guard!” Mulder called.

Scully gave him a quick nod before heading towards the door. Buckley grinned from ear to ear. “Don’t think that I have forgotten anything, Lieutenant. You took her from me the first time. Coward. I had my revenge once. What makes you think I won’t have it again?”

Mulder paused, glancing at Scully’s retreating back as he spun around to face Buckley. “You best back off,” Mulder threatened and then he smiled. “Oh wait, you’ll be stuck in here. Lucky you. I hope you enjoy life in prison.”

Mulder’s mild threat was considered light for the deep, fire-filled rage he felt burning in his body. Most of all, Scully's outburst stood But he left without another word to find his partner waiting just outside. “Everything okay?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” he breathed, forcing himself to calm down. “That was a waste of time, wasn’t it?”

“Hm,” she nodded distractedly. She gazed back to the holding room, watching the guards take Buckley away with that shit eating grin on his face. “Out of sight, out of mind, Scully. We’re flying back, right? What time is our flight?”

Mulder was silent before saying, “Why don’t we drive back instead? We could take Route 17, it will be longer but a nicer ride. We don't have to deal with I-95 until outside of Fredericksburg.”

“And prolong dealing with Kersh?”

“We’re not expected back in the bullpen until tomorrow. We don’t have to go straight to the Hoover building. I can take you home first. What do you say, Scully? You could use the sleep.”

“You’re driving,” she said softly.

“Of course,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect. “We both know you can’t reach the pedals.”

She snorted uncharacteristically. “Well at least I know I have a better sense of direction than you do.”

. . . .

She came. Dana actually came. Honestly, that whole Starbuck thing was a shot in the dark. I had a dream about some creepy little man telling about it. He looked like that actor Brad Dourif who was in that movie Dune. But anyways, it was a dream that told me to call Dana Starbuck. Complete shit luck. But she still came and I saw my wife. Oh, I saw my wife come through tonight.

She has to be remembering. I saw the look in her eyes. She used to get that faraway look in the other time like she did not belong. Back then. But she belongs to me, in that life and this life. But then there is him. Arrogant bastard. Figures he come back in this life too. I recognized that old fire in the Lieutenant’s eyes. I remember that defiance and protectiveness when he disobeyed me.

. . . .

Norfolk, Virginia February 4, 1862

She sat by the window, looking longingly at the snow-covered streets, her hand rubbing the cover of the copy of Moby Dick that her father gave her right before her marriage. She looked at it fondly before tucking it away in a small bag beneath the floorboards. Also in that bag rested money, papers, a couple of pictures, and a revolver. She cinched the bag shut and replaced the floorboards and recovered it with the carpet.

Her husband would be home soon. The last thing she needed was to be caught. She sighed, wondering how she was supposed to go about this absurd mission.

“Mrs. Buchanan,” a maid asked softly, “a messenger just arrived from the shipyards. The Captain will not be joining you for dinner tonight. Shall I prepare something for you?”

“I’m quite fine, Charlotte,” she smiled weakly. “I’ll make myself a small plate and have some wine.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect,” the maid began tentatively, “the Captain truly insists that we do work like that. He says it isn’t the place of a captain’s wife to be doing hard labor.”

“It’s just making a small plate of food,” the wife sighed. “Charlotte, go to bed, go read yourself a book. I’m quite content right now.”

She nodded and gave a small smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Buchanan. Good night.”

Mrs. Buchanan gave a warm smiled and nodded. “Good night.”

Alone with her thoughts, she turned her attention back outside. Dana Katherine Buchanan was supposed to be a Navy Captain’s Wife. Just like her mother had been. What an empty title. But she was his second wife, not his first. Her husband, Captain Francis Buchanan of the Confederate States Navy. He had previously been, like many other military men of the Confederacy, a United States Naval Officer. She had married him before the war, in 1854 when she was twenty-four and he himself was fifty-four. He had been a friend and naval college of her father’s; they both had enlisted in the navy together in 1815 and at the tender age of 15. Her father could not think of a more perfect suitor for his youngest daughter when the opportunity presented itself for then Commander Buchanan to remarry.

That had been seven years ago and what did Dana have to show for it? Nothing. She was miserable. Domestic life did not suit her. Inwardly, ever since she was a child, she desired to do something more, to be intellectually stimulated and do something with her life. Something grand like medical school. She remembered the first time she read Florence Nightingale’s Cassandra shortly after her marriage. It sparked the idea to actually act on her desires.

Her husband found this notion ridiculous. The years passed and she read as much as she could to pass the dullness and bear the miserableness of her marriage. The Captain frowned on the fact that she still remained childless, but he was not lacking. He still had his nine other children from his previous marriage, all who were close to being grown and in boarding schools. They did not take to the idea of having a step-mother. Even then, Dana never gave the thought of motherhood much consideration either and secretly ensured that she would remain childless.

She smoothed the front of her dress and thought about the task at hand. A few months ago, she had been approached by her youngest brother, Charlie while her husband had been away visiting his children. She was surprised to see him; both of her brothers served in the Union Navy. But here he was, dressed as a civilian. She remembered his urgent tone, the seriousness of his face.

Spy for the union, he begged his sister. There is a knowledge that your husband is to be commander of the newest ironclad frigate. Get us information, Dana. Help end this war.

Dana herself still did not know why she did it. Maybe it was the sense of adventure, maybe it was the sense of greater justice, or maybe it just gave her purpose. But she was doing something with her life. But still, she needed a way in to uncover information before passing it to the Union.

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia December 13, 1998

Mulder gently shook Scully awake as she jumped slightly, startled out of her light sleep. “Hm.” She blinked lazily. “Are we already back in Washington?”

“Still got three hours but I thought we could grab a late lunch. The front desk person at the hotel spoke about this little restaurant right along the Yorktown River. Some awesome seafood from what I heard.”

“Hm. Yorktown,” she murmured. She licked her dry lips. “Didn't something happen here?”

“The Revolutionary War ended here in 1781 when Cornwallis surrendered to Washington. There is a small cave down ways called Cornwallis's cave. Supposedly Cornwallis hid there during the 1781 Yorktown siege and the Union Army used it for mutilations during the Civil War,” Mulder recited. He nodded outside the car towards the rear window. “Check out the view. And since we're not rushing back to work, there's a local graveyard we could check out.”

Scully's breath caught quickly as she viewed the York Riverfront and the Coleman bridge linking the two Virginia peninsulas. Something about the site lulled her into a state of happy contentment. Maybe it was because of the gorgeous riverfront view. “You're full of surprises, Mulder,” she commented softly.

“Only the best for you, Scully,” he remarked.

Mulder was concerned about Scully (when was he not?) since they came to Norfolk. She seemed caught in some sort of fog lately ever since the other day. He wanted to distract her and tried to get her to smile.

“I think,” she paused, glancing at him, for dramatic effect, “you're flirting me, Agent Mulder.”

“I may be, Agent Scully.” Of course, he was flirting with her. He loved and cared deeply her but he would never openly admit and ruin the relationship they already had. He was too much of a coward to pursue the matter and risk losing what they had already. “But I also know you too well.”

She gave a playful push against his arm as they got out of the car. Scully breathed deeply, feeling the wind, carrying a crispness that only could be felt near the shore. She already felt her spirits lifting. They walked up to the front of the small shack of a restaurant as he opened the door for her. They sat quietly at the bar and shared two happy hour beers and mulled over the menu.

“Look, Scully, they have frog legs on special! Deep fried. Everything is better than deep fried!”

She arched an elegant eyebrow and nodded. “Challenge accepted as an appetizer. Hm. Saws the chef caught it himself and kept them frozen for a special occasion. I'd this occasion is special. Fox Mulder buying me lunch!” Scully laughed. She glanced back to her own menu at hand, deciding on a small side salad and a side of scallops to put on her salad. “What are you getting?”

“The softshell crabs sound awfully tempting,” he answered, “as do the oysters. A Yankee boy like myself is allowed to indulge in these things. Why don't we just share? What were you thinking of getting?”

“A small salad and a side order of scallops.”

“Let's get that, some oysters, and...” he eyed the menu, “collards and green beans. Gotta try that southern cuisine.”

“You've already asked me to get china patterns and marrying you,” she mused, closing the menu, “we better slow down before we get ahead of ourselves.”

He smiled slightly and ordered their food. “So,” he began, resting his head in his hand, “you okay, Scully?”

She pursed her lips, about to murmur I'm fine but hesitated. “I feel better now but I...” She struggled inwardly before giving in the urge to confess. “I had another dream.”

“About what?”

She eyed the beer bottle and sipped it tentatively. “I'm me, but I'm not,” she started cryptically. “I saw me, but not, and it was like...the 1800s. I was a spy. There was a war?”

“The Civil War?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe. What other war could it be?” She played with a napkin. “I'm probably losing my mind.”

“Don't say that,” he said softly. “Scully, you know if you ever want to talk, I'm there for you.”

“You're three am calls prove it.”

“You could already feel the love,” he teased. “Even at the very beginning.”

The deep fried frog legs arrived. Mulder held up his fork in challenge. Scully smirked and held up her own as they dug in the two sets. “I feel like I am back in high school biology,” Mulder mused, trying to fork the frog leg.

Scully was already successful, eating her first piece. “It really does taste like chicken. Damn, this is good.” She was silent for a long moment. “Mulder. Thank you for all this.” She waved her hand uselessly. “Dealing with me.”

“Anytime, Scully.” He had successfully forked a piece of the frog leg and dipped in the house sauce. “Not bad.”

“I bet we can add this to our list of safe food,” she chuckled.

“Frog legs. Got it.”

They ate in easy silence. The bartender brought their odd assortment of food and they continued to pick at each others dishes. Mulder paid their tab and they left, leaving the car, to walk along the riverfront. Scully sighed slightly feeling a sense of relief. The silence was comforting as they enjoyed being in each other company. “You really did not have to do this, Mulder,” she admitted as they neared the end of the walk. They stood right under the Coleman Bridge. “I just had some bad sleep.”

He shrugged. “What are friends for?” he spoke softly.

His hand was still there, resting on her back, giving her a sense of security and sureness. “You ready to head home, G-woman?”

She nodded as he quietly led her back to their car to take them back to their live modern lives in Washington D.C.

[renee-walker]

Yet another super incomplete, entirely incoherent, and most definitely not chronological list of my thoughts, this time on Stranger Things 2 eps 4-7

I will never be over my feelings about Joyce Byers and her love for her children. Obviously Will is the focus at this point, but omg the raw ferocity of her love and concern just leaps out of my tv and murders my mom heart. And wow, I could do this in every ep, but the most major shoutout to Winona Ryder’s acting chops. She never overdoes it for a second, which I think is a feat when she constantly has to convey so much desperation and terror. Amazing.

ALSO. Noah Schnapp, holy shit. I mean we didn’t honestly get to see hardly any of him in the first season, but wow I will never stop yammering about what a great job this show did in choosing the kids who make up the main cast. There’s not a weak link, and the scene where Will tells Joyce that the monster/shape/what the fuck ever that thing is got him pretty much broke me.

Ew, Dustin’s bizarre affection for his slug toy turns out predictably badly, but how awesome is it that by pure serendipity, he winds up with Steve? The second they got in the car together, S says, “I love the way this show always sticks together the characters you wouldn’t really expect to hang out,” and YEP, he is so right. And I mean, can we talk about Steve’s face when he asks Dustin how he knows it’s not a lizard and Dustin’s like, “I know because it’s face opened up and it ate my cat.” STEVE’S FACE. Just like, “Okay, fair.” I am die.

Tbh I really don’t see the point of Max’s brother. He’s a dick and apparently a giant racist and I guess he could be there just so Max can have that heart to heart with Lucas on the bus but idk. I just really don’t find anything about him interesting or compelling and I’m super confused as to why he’s always so goddamn shiny. Also did I just hang with the wrong crowd in the ‘80s or did all parents just let their kids sit around in their living rooms, smoking and drinking beer while lifting weights? I didn’t know any of these parents, but my best friend’s mom did let us have wine coolers when we were 13 so clearly I was a giant fucking rebel.

Hopper and El’s fight sucked a whole lot of ass, and although I love Hopper, I seriously wanted to hit him myself when he called her a brat. Yes Jim, I get that you have manpain AND I LOVE YOU but holy fuck this is a traumatized child who’s entirely isolated from the world. I don’t blame her for taking off.

And then of course we have another episode of Poor Life Choices With Jim Hopper, in which he decides the best idea ever is to dig into the upside down all by himself, without telling anyone what he’s doing or where he is, and that’s bound to turn out super great, RIGHT? Spoiler alert: It does not turn out super great. I still freaked when the vines got him, ngl.

Omg, Bob. I know what’s going to happen to him and I hate it so much I can’t deal. HE’S SO FUCKING CUTE. And as @faith5by5-1013 said in a comment on my last post, I just love that there’s no love triangle bullshit here. Like Hopper is (more or less) happy for Joyce and Bob and Bob accepts Joyce’s history with Hopper and it’s just refreshing is all. ANYWAY Bob breaks me because of course he figures out the map since he’s Bob the Brain and his ridiculously adorable instant acceptance of all this wild fuckery is the stuff that dreams are made of. Get yourself a guy like Bob Newby, is all I’m trying to say.

The entirety of everything with El and her mom was just well, the worst. I’d assumed that Brenner had done something like electroshock on Terry, but assuming and watching are two different things. And for fuck’s sake, Eleven is a CHILD, which I think is something that’s very easy to forget with Millie Bobby Brown’s precociousness and her wild acting skills. Watching Eleven pretty much relive her mother’s horror is the worst, and it only makes Eleven’s eventual choice NOT to kill Otis (oops wrong show, lmao) even more meaningful and poignant.

Erica Sinclair is everything. The end.

MAJOR ASIDE. I could not get over the gajillion ways in which this show is using Paul Reiser’s character to remind any viewer familiar with Aliens of that movie. I mean, shit. He repeats phrases that are almost verbatim dialogue from Aliens, there’s the motion tracker stuff when the demodogs attack the ambushed lab dudes, there’s the “Stay frosty.” Yeah, Aliens was 1986 and this is supposedly 1984, but nobody can convince me that all this wasn’t intentional. That said, I’m starting to have the feeling that Dr. Owens isn’t going to turn out to be as awful as Carter Burke.

I used to use Faberge. Like, I was DYING.

SO, both my kids pretty much hated ep 7, and while it certainly isn’t my favorite of the eps I’ve seen so far, I really appreciated a number of things about it.

Like, I never stop thinking about the fact that Eleven has spent her entire life in a lab. Her face when she sees the city lights at night is just everything. There are so many aspects of life this child has never had the chance to touch, and it makes me hurty inside just thinking about it.

I do think the ep was too long, but whatever, this isn’t the kind of issue I’m gonna be mad about. Since the beginning of the season, the show has been riffing on what could possibly be “home” for El. This ep is so important if only because it answers that question for her in a deep and final way. Kali’s gang was honestly pretty dull and I didn’t give much of a shit about them, but I did give a lot of shits about El finally answering some very specific questions about her past and learning to make her own choices with this new information.

Look, one of my greatest fictional kinks ever is That Person Who Chooses To Be A Wonderul And Good Person Even Though Every Single Thing In Their Life Suggests They Should Absolutely Be An Axe Murderer. And of course El is exactly that. There’s nothing in her past that should make her choose mercy, but when it counts, that’s exactly what she does. And I could not love her more.

Also lbr. I pretty much died when she figured out that Mike, Hopper, and everyone else were in danger and was just like, peace out motherfuckers, I gotta save my friends and family. Not all heroes wear capes. Some of them wear a lot of eyeliner and hair gel:)

Final thoughts: I’m super surprised they waited this long to reunite El and Mike. I really do not want to watch Bob Newby die. I’m glad Jonathan and Nancy are together but I still find my interest waning whenever they’re the focus. Omg WHY AM I LOVING STEVE HARRINGTON?

[stillinaincrad]

Found this online and thought it’d be fun. Won’t tag others, but would love to see reposts with your answers!

1. Who is your favorite male anime character? it’s always a toss-up but for today will say Spike Spiegel

2. Who is your favorite female character? Lucy, Elfen Lied

3. What is your favorite anime soundtrack? Soul Eater

4. What is your favorite anime opening + animation? I’ve always thought the OP to Star Driver was really great - the art and graphic design is totally unique and the lyrics to the song (Gravity 0 - Aqua Timez) fit the show SO WELL, but the opening was made to fit the song, too. I still think it’s fantastic. 

5. What is your favorite anime ending song + animation? Soul Eater again, what everybody calls the “3rd ending” (Bakusou Yumeuta - Diggy Mo). Soul Eater’s soundtrack has everything from quirky indie to old school punk, but this hip-hopish track just fit the attitudes of the characters and their fighting styles perfectly. (Seki-kun is a very, very close second!)

6. What is your favorite anime scene? Yeah, right. Like I could answer that one.

7. If you could meet an anime character who would it be? I wish I could answer this seriously, but every time I think about a 2D character coming into this world, all I can picture is Kreiger’s Mitsuko Miyazumi and it makes me laugh uncontrollably.

8. What anime character is most similar to you in terms of personality? I usually say Ichika Orimura, just because he’s full of good intention but really dense when it comes to women and misses signals all the time. I should probably come up with a new line of thought, though, because that’s not exactly a flattering response lol

9. What is your favorite thing about anime? The imagination, the creativity, the fact that it’s drawn and anything at all is possible without a ginormous budget, so you get all these original stories colored well outside the lines of convention and safety standards that the entertainment industry is bound by.

10. What is your least favorite thing about anime? It took me a while to get used to the fanservice that is prevalent in even the most tame of anime, and there are times when an excess of it contributes to the story, but I have a hard time with it when an anime is overly-ecchi “just because”. It tends to really creep me out.

11. Who are your favorite anime couple? Kazuma and Ayano. They crack me up so much because they are cuckoo for cocoa puffs about each other but are too stubborn to ever admit it.

12. Who is your favorite anime animal? Will have to think about this one and come back to it.

13. What anime would make a good game? Another one have talked about at length, I would kill to see a full-fledged PvP MMORPG of the Fate/Stay series, where you choose which master you want to play as, develop skills and spells, eventually call your servant. The two of you quest together until endgame level, at which point you enter the Holy Grail war against other endgamers. I’d be all over that one.

14. What game would make a good anime? It was a God of War knockoff and they already made a bad movie about it, but always thought Heavenly Sword could be an anime. They’d have to add quite a bit of content to get 12-13 episodes, though.

15. What was the first anime you ever watched? Robotech

16. Do you think you’ll ever stop watching anime? No, but no way I’ll watch nearly as much - I do at some point plan on becoming a real adult again, and don’t expect to have the time I do now.

17. What is your favorite genre of anime? It used to be mecha anime, and I’m still really into it, but the fantasy/adventure series that are set in medieval-esque worlds have gotten the most of my love the last 2-3 years.   .

18. What is your least favorite genre of anime? Horror

19. Are you open about watching anime with people you know? I was when I was younger, but now I think there’s a stigmata that is attached to it because of my age. Like “oh, you’re one of those guys”. Somehow being past like teens/early 20s and still into anime means you’re a creeper who is weird af and probably does bizarre things behind closed doors. I have to get to know someone before more than just a casual conversation about it.

20. Have you ever been to Japan? Yup, lived there for a little while in the Navy

21. What anime was the biggest let down for you? Death Parade. It had all the makings of one of those devastatingly memorable endings that would have rocketed it into history, but instead Chiyuki smiles, Decim says nothing, everybody gets off scot-free, and the show ends. WHAT THE F***.

22. What anime was better then expected? Charlotte. Every time my answer will be Charlotte. That one blew me away the first time.

23. What is the best anime fight scene? This one always comes up, and I never have an answer. There have been a few that made me want to cheer, though lol

24. Who is your anime waifu? Takao, Ars Nova/Arpeggio of Blue Steel, but the idea of a waifu or envisioning yourself in a relationship with an anime character - male or female - is something I’ve never really gotten.

25. What was your favorite video game as a child? Perfect Dark. It sooo needs a reboot

Questions about me

26. Most Embarrassing moment? When I was 13, I passed out during the prayer at a large outdoor service at a country church we were visiting, but fell straight down into my chair so only a few people knew about it. Someone called EMS, but the squad was unavailable, so this 38ft hook and ladder with lights and sirens going pulls in and everybody was like wtf

27a. Can you drive? I’ve driven on three continents

27b. Do you own a car? It barely qualifies as a car, but it is paid for so until I make more than $11/hr it’ll have to do

28. Are you mature? Depends

29. Are you mature? I’m going to be mature here and not make a big deal about asking the same question twice. In a row.

30. Do you prefer cats or dogs? I miss my dog all the time, but have nothing against cats unless they are total assholes.

31. Describe yourself physically? 6′2, dirty blonde/brown hair, not fat but not exactly Ryan Gosling either

32. What would you name your first child? I don’t know, depends on the wife, I guess. Nothing too out there, though - I don’t want a boxer or a stripper for a kid because they got scarred from everyone making fun of their name.

33. What is the worst injury you have ever had? Ruptured L4/L5 in my spine that popped out and pinched my sciatic nerve, then while I was rehabbing that slipped on ice and broke my elbow. NOTHING worked for a while.

34. What is your worse habit? I wall myself off when I need others most. I’m actually really good at it.

35. Do you drink or smoke? I used to, and still do sometimes, but not nearly as often as I used to. It’s just too expensive to go out all the time, and I hate being out of breath from one flight of stairs.

36. Do you have a tattoo? I have 3, want more

37. Are you a morning person or a night person? I wake early every morning for work, so even on my days off I’m awake at like 6:30 now. Being an adult can really suck sometimes lol

38. Have you ever slept past midday? Not for a long time, but sure

39. Do you regret anything? Have you ever met anyone who doesn’t?

40. Can you count the number of friends you have on one hand? Yes. I know lots of people and am friendly with them, but not what I’d call a friend.

41. Do you wear glasses? No

42. Are you a picky eater? I loathe onions and the texture of stewed tomatoes will make me hurl, but just about everything else works.

43. Would you die for someone? Depends on the person and situation

44. If you could have any superpower, what would it be? Telekinesis, maybe? Not sure.

45. Do you believe in the supernatural? Not really. There’s plenty out there that we don’t understand or know about, though. It wouldn’t surprise me, but I don’t really believe in it.

46. Would you rather be rich or famous? Rich, I couldn’t handle people going through my garbage to see what brand of ice cream I prefer

47. Have you ever committed a crime? Is it a crime if you didn’t get caught? lol

48. Pirates or ninjas? Ninjas, it requires precision, years of training, and incredible athleticism. Pirating requires you drink a lot and rob people.

49. Does someone have a crush on you? Would be nice to find out that I did, but would kind of suck for them

50. Are you in a relationship? I’m not really in relationship mode right now

[suteshiro]

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

Open, kinda? My closet is built into a wall and one of the sides has like, shelves I use often so it’s just open for accesibility

(2) Do You Have Freckles?

Nope! I got nerfed, honestly. I’d look lovely with freckles

(3) Can You Whistle?

Hahaha nope,

(4) Last Song You Listened To.

Night of Fire bc im listening to an eurobeat mix while working on a school assignment skjfvnskjfv last song I Willingly listened to is The Hearse by matt maeson which fucking slaps

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?

Probably purple!

(6) Relationship Status.

Single

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?

18 celsius/64 fahrenheit. pretty average but for some reason im cold

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky?

Nope! I woke up feeling wonderfully actually

(9) How Many Followers?

404. Very nice number

(10) Zodiac Sign.

I’m a scorpio and a dragon :3

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?

Brown!

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily?

I do not, though I used to and might start again, who’s to say

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower?

Not rlly. I shower listening to music and I have a lot of trouble singing along to things im hearing for some reason skfnvskfjb

(14) What Books Are You Reading?

I’m too embarrassed to say publicly which one im reading now skjvnskfjb i kinda wanna read some cute cheesy romance in the nearby future

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

I grabbed the first lotr book and gottt

“Ah,” said Ted, “ you hear them, if you listen. But if I wanted to listen to old lady tales and childish legends, I’d stay home”

(Translated a bit roughly bc my physical books are mostly in spanish

(16) Favourite Anime?

You cant ask me thatt skjfvnklabmksfjb It might be Violet Evergarden? It’s the only anime that’s really made me cry

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

I think I cried in front of my mom at some point recently while pretending i wasnt crying

(18) Do You Collect Anything?

Notebooks skfnskfsnb I just think they’re neat

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?

havent Lunched yet, dont scold me

(20) Do You Dance In The Car?

I’m rarely in cars and they’re usually not mine

(21) Favourite Animal?

Coatimundis pretty...... and adorable

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics?

Nope

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

I try to go to bed a bit before midnight but im needy and like talking to my friends so its usually around 2am

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

Nope! I p much never do that

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

Both have their pros! I think I tend towards pools bc as a rule they dont rlly have like, annoying consequences

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog?

@yournewapartment​​ keeps popping up in my dash with good advice and nice stuff and i appreciate it

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

Bottled waterr the tap water in my building is weird and doesnt seem very safe to drink and by now i hate the taste skjvfnkjn

(28) What Makes You Happy?

My friends, comedy shows, reading good fanfiction, writing fanfiction, drawing my characters, reading about others’ characters, giving gifts, the smell of roses, fairy pokemon, butterflies-

I like being happy

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

Im not really a Keeps Gifs That Convey Emotions kinda guy

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

Depends a lot skjvfnskfjvn my brain keeps switching

(31) Dogs Or Cats?

Very hard questions,,, I think I tend towards dogs bc they’re like me. Big. Excitable. Needy.

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be?

Purble.,......

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.

PlayStation

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

I have been in the ocean before and idk how much i liked it but sure id do it again. A lake sounds fun!!

(35) Do You Believe In Magic?

I practice it!

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?

Red

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue?

I’m not sure what exactly this is asking

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It?

I like saving money skjfnvksjv I rarely think of things to spend it on

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

Ye! There’s a bag I use to keep my chargers in it when im outside. it has flower pictures. very pretty

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

Love Live,,,,, and now my character Curiosity bc @zuramaru​​ is an angel and running a campaign he’s in and we played yesterday and holy shit theres a lot going on

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

Oh yes!! this one time I was in a place absolutely full of butterflies and I caught one between my cupped hands and it stayed there when I opened them and it was a wonderful experience

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

Ya,, I do the fawning thing so I tend to agree with other people by default, lest we have any kind of conflict

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams?

Oh yes, most of the dreams I remember are. bizarre

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

Yeah!!! Only done it twice but it was a blast

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

Inside Out fucking got to me

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

Peanuts,,, I don’t like sunflower seeds. I mean they’re tasty but. Too much effort for too little reward

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

Uuuuh, FOB probably

(48) Are You A Picky Eater?

Not really, but also yes? I have a few things I absolutely refuse to put in my mouth

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

Perhaps? I’m not very hard to wake up but I can sleep through a lot of stuff

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning?

Nah I fucking love it

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?

Yes!! I think I would actually like to become a writer. Not sure tho

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud?

Yea but only when I’m really into it. Like, usually I’m listening to stuff and the volume tends to low but then there’s this One song and I turn it up all the way until it’s over

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

Wrap presents, I’ve never carved pumpkins before skjfvnskjfv seems like a hassle and I’d feel bad for not making it look nice

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?

Haven’t you noticed (I’m a star) from Steven Universe

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

Winterr

(56)What Are You Craving Right Now?

Choclet........

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

Here you go!

(58) What Is Your Gender?

Solarian!

(59) Coffee Or Tea?

I’m a tea guy!

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

I’m helping translate an entire thing about the way emails work, its a bit of a hassle skjfvnsf

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?

Uuuuh I’ve been questioning but im mlm and also into nb people

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

Yeah! Makes me feel accomplished and sexy

(63) Favourite Pokemon?

SYLVEON SYLVEON SYLVEON

(64) Favourite Social Media?

Absolutely Tumblr. Unless you count Discord as a social media

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

I don’t use. Instagram. But sure they’re neat

(66) Do You Get Homesick?

A little. Usually when I travel I’m either at a place I hate or at a place where I don’t have commodities I do have at home skjfnskjfb so I miss my room

(67) Are You A Virgin?

Yup

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?

Uuuh I’m using a Head & Shoulders shampoo I believe? WIth no conditioner bc my hair is real short now and conditioner tends to feel weird

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

Well you see I would choose the crappy motel but 60 bucks seems a bit unattainable so sure, let’s stay in my car

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

Nope, father is Dead

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

I’m not interested in anything, honestly

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

“If I could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true, I’d save every day like a treasure and then, again, I would spend them with you”

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest?

There’s this like. Really nice honey color

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

I loved swinging! I still do but I’m. Self conscious about my weight and scared of breaking something

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

Some pastries for breakfast

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

20B wives, My sweet angel is a real angel, BitLife, Buriedbornes, Cardinal Quest 2, Crazy 8, Egg Inc, FarmVille 2, Fire Emblem Heroes, Gardenscapes, Get bigger! Mola, Homescapes, Human Resource Machine, Kept Man Life, Love Live, Mermaid Evolution, My Little Star VIP, Piano Tiles 2, Plague Inc, Pocket City, Pokémon GO, Puzzledom, SmithStory, Soul Knight, Tap Knight, Tower Breaker

To be clear quite a few of these stay there completely untouched

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

What kind of question is this???

I mean I don’t know CPR but if I could yeah???

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

… listen,

right now ive only been on my computer for like an hour or two but yeah ive done that,

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

I don’t think so?

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People?

Yyyyes and no. I’m a bit awkward but I like people

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

Oh!! I wear this really pretty crown shaped ring but idk where I left it

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

Closed closed closed I haaate when my bedroom door is open

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today?

Talk with friends, make some tea, read? I haven’t done a lot today skvnskjvn

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed?

Comfy shirt and sweatpants

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

What’s a beauty?

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?

uuuh both? hard to answer??

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.

Well, we’ve already clarified what I have on my phone skjfnskjfb

THe only games I know I have on console are Mortal Kombat Armageddon, Devil May Cry 3 special edition, and Okami. Oh! And God of War. I think at least the first and second. Were there more than two?

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

Nah

(90) Favourite Soda Drink?

I don’t like fizzy drinks, they make my throat hurt

But Fanta is nice

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

Melodic voices singing, the rain, absentminded humming, small clicking noises...

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

Jeans! I have very few but I’ve grown fond of them. Used to wear yoga pants pretty exclusively before

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?

Gorgeous, of course

Skjvnskfjvn I’m still wearing the clothes I used to sleep

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You.

Ghibli movies

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?

A star map on my back!

(96) Favourite YouTuber?

Right now I think that’s John Wolfe. But I like quite a few

[infinitehouseofbooks]

BLOG TOUR - A Call To Heaven

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Bewitching Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

About the Book:

  A Call to Heaven

Jo Kessel

  Genre: contemporary romance

with a paranormal twist

  Publisher: J.K Publishing

  Date of Publication: January 27, 2017

  ISBN-13: 978-1540490049 /

ISBN-10: 1540490041

ASIN: B01MQU65MT

  Number of pages: 260 paperback /

320 kindle book

  Word Count: 68k

  Cover Artist: Ivan Cakic

  Book Description:

  “Everybody’s loved, everybody’s lost.

  Grief strips you raw and makes you feel as if you’re sleepwalking through life, like the pain will never go away.

  I’m Amy Tristan. I’m no different than anyone else. I’ve loved, I’ve lost and it sucks. I’ve got a five-year old son and an abusive husband. My mother died six months ago and I miss her like crazy.

  I’m the biggest skeptic when it comes to other-worldly stuff, so when I’m told that I can pick up the phone and call my mum in Heaven, I should disbelieve it, right? Wrong. I pick up that phone, because there’s nothing I want more than to hear her voice trickle into the receiver.

  And you know what? It works. I get to speak to my mother. It’s a miracle. If only it could stay this way, with those calls just for me, but someone up on high wants me to choose three other people to make a call to Heaven too. Who should I pick? How can I trust them to keep the phone secret? Making the choice is agonizing – if I get it wrong, my calls will stop. I wish I hadn’t told Daniel anything. He’s this hot doctor that I’ve come to know. But doctors are scientists, and scientists are bigger skeptics than even me. He didn’t believe in the phone. He thought I should be admitted to a sanatorium. Telling him was either the best decision of my life, or the worst. I’ll let you decide…”

  Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/6qQLxZbVs50

  Amazon US    Amazon UK

  Interview with the Author:

What initially got you interested in writing?

I’ve loved writing since I was a little girl. I didn’t just enjoy writing stories at school – I was always writing them at home too, letting my imagination run riot. My family and friends used to love reading what I’d written and I guess that gave me the thirst for more.  When I became a journalist for my ‘day job’ it was like I wasn’t working at all because I enjoyed it so much. And then the leap from being a journalist to a being a novelist isn’t such a big one…

  How did you decide to make the move into being a published author?

A friend of mine in the UK (also a journalist) got a two-book deal with a major publisher from out of nowhere and that made me think: “I wonder if I could do that too?” And so I starting to write the novel I had in me (I think we all have one book that we’d like to write) and a new career was born. I quickly realized that I enjoyed writing a full-length novel much more than the articles I normally write for newspapers. It’s so much more layered, with so much more freedom. It’s an incredibly fulfilling process.

  What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

I hope readers will:

Enjoy the story

Take something personal from each story

Relate to and be touched emotionally by the characters and what they’re going through

I really hope that the story will stay with my readers long after the book has been finished.

    What do you find most rewarding about writing?

When you start writing a novel it can feel like such an insurmountable feat and making it to the finishing line feels like such a long way off. And so it’s incredibly rewarding when you DO reach that finishing line and have created a gripping arc of a storyline which takes you from the beginning through the middle and to the end, following the journey of its characters. And then, once it’s written and being read, it’s rewarding when you hear from readers and learn that they have been touched by your work. That means the world to me.

  What do you find most challenging about writing?

The biggest challenge for me is to keep on going even when the writing does feel like an insurmountable feat. Completing a novel takes a lot of hard work and you need to be disciplined, persistent and tenacious till the end…because a novel won’t write itself. I think of it like a jigsaw. Each day I add a few more of the pieces until eventually I have a whole picture.

  What advice would you give to people want to enter the field?

Be disciplined, persistent and tenacious (see above!) and develop a thick skin. Not everyone will love everything you write and you need to learn not to take criticism too personally. Remember that phrase: different strokes for different folks.

  Excerpt:

  Everyone’s looking at me. I’ve got the yellow telephone in my hands and I’m not sure what to do with it. I take a seat at the end of the table and lay the phone down in front of me. Beth is to my left, Ben is to my right. Daniel is opposite me. I look from one to the other and feel color flood my cheeks. My gaze finishes on Daniel and stays there for a beat. He nods, his eyes encouraging me. I return the nod, take a deep breath and count down from three to one in my head.

  “I’ve got to tell you all something.” My voice comes out as a thin squeak, but actually I’m surprised I manage to articulate at all. I’m hot, so hot. I lift the hair off the back of my neck, flapping it around to try to cool my sticky, clammy skin. I can’t breathe, I need air. I unlock the patio doors, flinging them wide open. The inside of my mouth feels rough as sandpaper. I’m desperate for a tall glass of water packed with ice-cubes but, when I turn to see six eyes staring at me, I dare not leave to fetch one. I feel like an exhibit in a museum and in some ways I wish I were. I could hide behind a Perspex box next to the yellow telephone with panel blurb doing the explaining for me. I could be part of a new exhibition entitled ‘Incredible Discoveries’. I would share the same hall as the dinosaurs and anything else which took aeons for people to believe existed. I draw a deep breath and continue.

  “You’re probably going to think I’m mad, but I’m going to tell you anyway.”

  A breeze blows through the open patio doors.

  “What I wanted to tell you is this.” My voice is soft as a whisper. I sense all their bodies leaning closer towards mine, straining to hear. “I’ve recently started talking to my mother.”

  There, I’ve said it.

  I feel a great sense of relief, both that I’ve said it and that I no longer have to keep this to myself. Beth relaxes in her chair with a sigh, leans across and takes my hand, patting it. She’s got wavy brown hair and a kind, open face. She tilts her head sympathetically.

  “Oh honey, you must have tried out that clairvoyant you mentioned. Please tell us all about it.”

  I should have seen that one coming.

  “No, you don’t get it.” I lift up the yellow phone, as if to demonstrate how to use such a contraption. In one hand I take the receiver, in the other the plug. “I don’t speak to her through a medium. I speak to her on this telephone. I plug it into a socket in my bathroom and I’m allowed to call heaven.”

  There, I’ve said it now.

  Nobody moves.

  Not a muscle.

  Their mouths all open, Daniel’s is the widest. I don’t think any of them even realize they’re doing it. As feared, they are looking at me like I’m certifiably insane.

  “I can see you all think I’m mad.” I actually manage to pull a small smile. Now that I’ve started, I feel much calmer. “And, if I were in your position, I would think I’m crazy too. But one night my mother came to me in a dream and told me I could use this phone to call her in heaven and, bizarre though it must sound, it turns out she was right. That’s why I stopped coming to Grief Support Group every week. I wasn’t grieving so much because my mother had come back into my life.”

  The three pairs of eyes grow wider and wider, as if I’m slowly sprouting four serpent heads. I replace the receiver back into its cradle and drop the plug, holding out my hands in submission.

  “You can believe me or not. It doesn’t matter. But the reason I’ve gathered you all here is because I’ve been asked to choose three other people to call to heaven.”

  I sound like a fairy godmother or the good witch in the Wizard of Oz. I do not sound normal. I pause. The effect is dramatic although it’s not intended to be.

  “And I’ve picked you guys.”

  I look at them one by one.

  “Beth, I know how much it might mean to you to be able to speak to your daughter and know that she is safe.”

  Beth nods. Her gaze turns glassy.

  “Ben, I’d do anything to be able to give you a chance to speak to your brother again.”

  Ben nods, his mouth still formed in a perfect ‘O’.

  Daniel is the hardest one for me to look at. He’s not nodding anymore and his eyes are no longer urging me to continue. Instead he’s shaking his head, a slow, subtle movement, but I catch it all the same. His full lips have now formed a thin line. He’s the only one who looks like he still thinks I’m certifiably insane. Hell, he’s a doctor; perhaps that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Part of me wonders whether I should abort this whole escapade and pretend it was all a joke. I’d do anything to not have Daniel stare at me in this way. He looks ready to call the local sanatorium and send them round with a straitjacket. But I can’t abort and I must continue. What happens next is up to him.

  “And Daniel, I thought that maybe you might like to speak to Katie.”

  He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but clamps it shut again without speaking. Nobody else says anything either. They all shift in their seats, pretending to take sips of coffee and look around the room. Perhaps they’re checking out the photos on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, trying to work out if I look like a madwoman in any of them. I pick up the knife. Now I probably do look mad or, at the very least, dangerous.

  “Right, who’s for some more pie?”

  About the Author:

Jo lives in London with her husband, three children and Jerald the cat. In addition to being a novelist she works as a TV and print journalist (Sunday Times, The Telegraph, the Daily Mail and the Express.) If she could change one thing about her life it would be to introduce the thirty hour day, because twenty-four hours just isn’t long enough to squeeze it all in! Many a late night has been spent with a glass of red wine (preferably French) at her desk trying to keep her eyes open long enough to write these stories which keep demanding to be written. If only her cat didn’t constantly jump onto the keyboard as she writes, this book might have been finished months earlier. She loves yoga, skiing, travelling and English custard – though not necessarily in that order.

  Website/blog: www.jokessel.com

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/jo_kessel

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kesseljo/

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33120863-a-call-to-heaven

  YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC1Q28t30k-o99Ijzoiox11Q

  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jo_kessel/

  Giveaway

  Signed paperback Call to Heaven

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BLOG TOUR – A Call To Heaven was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.