#and by judging i mean screaming at the tv when the contestant says something mean about one of their bodies

[citrusoc]

im gonna be honest with you guys, i enjoy watching naked attraction, i love judging people

#and by judging i mean screaming at the tv when the contestant says something mean about one of their bodies #'shes a bit big' OH FUCK OFF SHES GORGEOUS

[sophiamcdougall]

EXPLAINING SANREMO

(PART 1) Last week I was swept away, helpless, by the avalanche that is the Sanremo Song Festival and I am still recovering. For your safety, I’ve tried to keep the insanity contained on my Italian side blog. But I want to try to offer you a rough summary of what I’ve learned. Sanremo inspired the Eurovision Song Contest. Over five nights, 24 acts, each with a brand new song, compete at the Ariston theatre in Sanremo for a tacky little golden lion, and the glory of being the year’s Song for Italy. 2020 marked the 70th Sanremo, so depending on who you ask, it’s a venerable national treasure or it’s stale and embarrassing (Many Italians are sick of it. Or say they are, but see below.) It is also an EPIC STRUGGLE between THE FORCES OF GOOD AND EVIL FOR THE SOUL OF HUMANITY Let’s meet some of the protagonists: 

AKA: host Amadeus, entertainer and comedian Rosario Fiorello, il Bel Paese, and competitor Achille Lauro.

Amadeus got things off to a bad start before the show even began by praising his various female co-hosts - all seasoned TV professionals - for their beauty and their ability to stay “a step behind a man.” Outrage ensues, Amadeus claims he did not mean it like that, but keep this in mind for later. Also competing are Morgan (below, left) and Bugo (below, right.), who are performing a duet.

Going in, the one thing I know about Morgan is that on more than one occasion, he trashtalked my beloved and blameless Fabrizio Moro. So I hate him and want him to suffer. And apparently he has quite the reputation for throwing tantrums, picking on fellow-artists and sabotaging events he’s part of. But hey. He’s supposedly talented and Bugo clearly thinks he deserves another chance.  And we’re off!

Irene Grandi kicks things off with  “Finalmente Io” (“Finally Me”). But I’m starting with her not so much because she’s the first to sing as because I don’t think the song’s  got enough attention -- either for the fact that it bangs or for what it represents in the drama that’s about to unfold.

Finalmente Io is what, in the business, we call foreshadowing.

There’s a magical thing that happens to women with when they turn 40. The  develop Not-Giving-A-Fuck superpowers. The song is basically about that. It’s about freedom, and self-acceptance, and being 100% done with male bullshit. (It's also a bit of an ADHD anthem but let’s leave that aside for now.)  “I’ve lost all my patience, and all my fragility,” she sings. 

And, “If you want sex, let’s do it now. Heeeeeeere.”

Irene is the portent everyone misses, a harbinger of what is to come. 

Think of her as John the Baptist.  Onwards. So the first thing one discovers about the Sanremo Festival is that just because we have to get through 24 “big” acts AND 6 (?) new/junior artists, and they all have to perform multiple times, that doesn’t mean there’s any RUSH. Guest singers wander on and perform a song or ten. There’s comedy. We can stop everything to talk about football.  A lady comes on and talks for a million years about how her granny taught her that True Beauty is Found Within. There are also speeches about important subjects like violence against women. In fact, we are going to talk about that a lot, but also a bunch of competent and experienced female TV personalities are stuck taking turns at playing Amadeus’s Glamorous Assistant of the evening and he can’t shut up about how beautiful they all are while they cringe and lean subtly away from him. So it’s ... slow, and awkward, but within its own cheesy terms, things are normal. Too normal. Enter Achille Lauro. 

Softly, almost whispering, he begins to sing a song called  “Me ne frego”  (”I don’t care” - but with an edge of “fuck you”). This is both an everyday Italian expression and a fascist motto. Well, it was till now. 

A nation is convulsed. Right-wing Italian boomers are screaming because YOU! CAN’T! DO! THAT! AT! SANREMO! THERE! ARE! CHILDREN! WATCHING! Italian Tumblr, which like the rest of Tumblr is feral, thirsty and gay, is screaming for different reasons entirely. 

Achille, you scandalous creature, what have you done? What have you got to say for yourself?

Something strange and magical  has released and it cannot be contained. On with the songs. Good songs, bad songs, blah songs. I like “Tikibombom” by Levante - a love letter to weirdos and rebels, “Rosso di Rabbia” (Rage Red) by Anastasio about being, well, angry but scared you can’t do anything useful with it, and “Eden” by  Rancore, about... the nature of sin?? touching on everything from September 11 to the mafia to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.   However, this contest is being judged (mostly - it’s complicated) by an industry jury of FOOLS, COWARDS, and TRAITORS who KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO, so virtually all of the above artists are so far languishing towards the bottom of the provisional rankings. Achille ends up in 17th place and  Rancore at 22.

Truly, the light hath shone in the darkness and the darkness knoweth it not.

LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO RANCORE. 

Rapper down, repeat RAPPER DOWN. SEND HELP.

However, for people who went in implacably biased against Morgan, it’s not all bad news. "Sincero” (Sincere) by Morgan and Bugo is in last place. Whether this is anything to do with the song or because Morgan is a nightmare of a person who has systematically alienated everyone in the Italian music industry except the trusting Bugo ... we can but ponder.  Sanremo grinds on. Days blur into each other and I’m not even going to try to cover events in exact order. Sanremo knows no order. Sanremo is like the universe, linear time is a construct that doesn’t really exist, and chaos happens very, very slowly.  But meanwhile, somewhere on the astral plane:

At least that is what I deduce must have happened.

The competitors and guests look deep within themselves. Do they have what it takes? Are they ready to answer the call? 

Let’s see! It’s Covers Night! Which is also Duets Night!

That’s Elettra Lamborghini (yes, that Lamborghini) and Myss Keta.

 Are they in tune? No. Does it matter? ALSO NO.

Meanwhile ... something strange is brewing between Amadeus and Fiorello...

 But wait, PLOT TWIST.

Enter Roberto Benigni.

The beloved actor and director is the latest avatar of the Dionysian frenzy that has chosen Sanremo 2020 for the place of its birth. He is the One who will unite the electric queer mayhem and the impossible grinding tedium  of Sanremo. In him, the two strains will fuse and become unstoppable. He is going to talk about sex for twenty-six minutes

He reads from the Song of Songs, which ... I knew it was sexy, and all, but is it really like that? Do you ever think about NAKED BODIES? Roberto does. Do you believe in PHYSICAL LOVE? Roberto wishes you would. Anyway, just think of all the sex we could all be having, literally right now, right heeeeere, whether we are  “a woman, and her man. Or a man and his man. Or a woman, and her woman!” He is awful. He is magnificent. He is excruciating. He is spellbinding. We are hanging on his every word and we are considering chewing our own arms off to escape. He proposes an orgy in the orchestra pit. 

Hand on heart, all of that happened. Italian Tumblr, bear witness.

And what of Achille Lauro? He unleashed this madness upon us all,  is he just going to sit back and let everyone else do all the work? Of course not. Achille Lauro came to bring not peace, but a sword, to the world of toxic masculinity and gender in general and his work is not yet done.

”I too was once a little girl,” Achille sings.

Dressed as Bowie-as-Ziggy, Achille duets with Annalisa on “Gli Uomini Non Cambiano” - “Men Don’t Change”. It’s a heartbreaking song by Mia Martini from 1992 about male abuse of women, and not a single word, or a single pronoun has been changed.

However, although he’s the one in the competition, and the one dressed to dazzle, he leaves Annalisa the spotlight. It’s like she’s the tortured protagonist of the song and he’s a voice in her head, a sympathetic spirit who can’t swoop in to rescue her but can quietly affirm that she deserves better than the the hellish treatment she’s singing about. in fact, he pointedly stays a step behind her at all times. And she’s majestic. 

Of course, he’s not fucking DONE

He’s still got to sing “Me Ne Frego” again. Can he top the cape-drop? You be the judge.

So Italian Tumblr,  is now writhing on the carpet,  making a sound only bats can hear, and shitposting itself into delirium, but has it all been ENOUGH?

NO.

Poor Rancore has died again. Toxic masculinity still exists. Amadeus is still pretty gross. Everyone is going to have to GAY HARDER. CAN THEY DO IT? This post is, like Sanremo itself, getting insanely long, so ... STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO, in which Fiorello’s true nature as a chaos being is revealed, Amadeus faces his Calvary, and the gun on the stage goes off.  ----- UPDATE: Part 2 is here

#Sanremo #Sanremo 2020 #Explaining Sanremo #Achille Lauro #Explaining Sanremo Part 1

[fursasaida]

Would love to hear about all of the ways ppl misunderstand HG (if you feel like it)

i’m doing this as bullets bc i don’t have the oomph to like write it out properly

they think the socioeconomic specialization of the 12(+1) districts is the typical thing of like, “i will construct a wholly implausible society that’s about putting people in totalitarian versions of thinly disguised hogwarts houses so i can show how my heroine is Special and Unique” instead of like, a specifically elaborated form of oppression by the capitol that shows how aestheticized the political economy is. it’s not that most people in panem really believe everyone from District 4 (? IIRC) is suited as a person to fishing, or whatever. it’s that the capitol said “you produce this and only this for us, how much we value that commodity category determines your value, and that is all you are” and this is completely interwoven with the spectacle of control that is the Games. (the Games are basically a dramatization of territorial control but wah wah wah “battle royale ripoff” wah wah shut up.) it’s actually a very interesting political economy concept which i could go on about at length but i value my life

due to the above they think Katniss is supposed to go on the usual character arc of Doesn’t Fit In --> Discontent --> Dismantle the System and Be Happy

this causes them to complain both that she doesn’t change enough (first of all, she does change, just not in the way they expect; and second, the ways she doesn’t change are part of the POINT! this isn’t a story of personal transformation! it’s about political change!) and that she’s too like sad or limp or whatever later on. IT’S A VERY GOOD DEPICTION OF TRAUMA, SHUT UP.

they complain that the ending is “unsatisfying.”

of course the ending is “unsatisfying,” because the political change that occurred is incomplete and nuanced, and also, she still has all that trauma, there is a cost, the whole thematic backbone of the series is “internalize the externalities/make the invisible costs visible.” it’s the interplay between the hypervisibility of spectacle and the extraction of people’s time, bodies, wealth, relationships--their lives--that it both relies on and hides.

relatedly, people think katniss shooting whatsername at the end is some kind of unjustified twist. i don’t know what to say about this. i throw up my hands. WERE YOU PAYING ATTENTION AT ALL.

does anyone think about what the story is actually about? they do not. ("no one” is an exaggeration, i just mean the people i’m mad at)

the love triangle. oh my god. again people just take this as a “typical YA” thing of like, let me show how desirable and special my heroine is by having both the boys want her!! it is not that at all. Gale and Peeta stand in for different sides of her personality and respectively bring those sides out in her. her being torn between them is in fact where the “personal change” aspect of the story happens.

both of them are very strategic thinkers but in entirely different registers, and they value different things. she has much more in common with Gale at the beginning (on the surface), and her choice to see the value in Peeta’s way of thinking and do the very hard work of developing those capacities and responses in herself is her choice about who she wants to be and whether she values a reversal of power (Gale) or actually improving society (Peeta). whether being a ~rebellious hunter~ or being a caretaker (the reason, remember, she did the illegal hunting in the first place!) is more important to her.

they are both from her home district and people she’d known before the games because, again, these are qualities/tendencies she already possessed; choosing which to turn toward and develop in herself is the personal aspect of the political story.

and it is not a coincidence that it’s after the total dissociation and alienation she experiences in being made an aesthetic spectacle qua ~rebel by District 13 that she does the incredibly difficult, steadfast, further-traumatizing work of helping bring Peeta back to himself and so to her. the ending doesn’t happen without her whole process of negotiating her relationships with those two characters.

but these people don’t understand the ending anyway so i don’t know what i was expecting

this is called good writing and it’s an extremely valid way to develop and use supporting characters

god i could scream

Suzanne Collins’ origin story for this series, about channel-flipping between reality TV and coverage of the Iraq War, really just puts it all out there for you and these people ignore this! if they even know about it they just take it as like, “what if i put this thing on this other thing.” but she is getting at something very real with that! she is saying that both war and entertainment are spectacle-generating machines, fueled by inequality and the bodies of young people, that maintain power structures. (the big thing THG is really missing here is how this works internationally because there just aren’t any other countries in its world.)

[redacted: extremely over the top musing about race and class intersections in re: the unequal distribution of exposure to premature death and how intentional Collins was or wasn’t in getting what she got right right and what she got wrong wrong]

a few years back i was watching The Voice (leave me alone) and they had this whole ~storyline about a girl (i think 19 tops?) from a tiny, tiny rural Southern town, who was too stage-fright-y to perform to her potential. every week the judges would tell her she disappointed and every week her coach would save her because, he kept saying, he still had faith she could deliver. (she was fine but they had a Narrative to construct.) and then one week magically they changed up her makeup and clothes to make her much more overtly sexy, but in this like fucked-up babydoll innocent way, and lo and behold she discovered her confidence and wowed everyone. who could have predicted!!

I remember another contestant on The Voice who was literally there to try to get to a point where he would be able to get his family back into housing after flooding destroyed their home in i can’t even remember which (socio)natural disaster.

like that is just literally how the hunger games work. the promise is that this is a rare route to economic mobility. it requires a dramatic makeover, patronage, all of it. the makeover involves being essentialized as a citizen-type, a national subject that fits into a particular box (rural/urban, gendered, raced, etc--all of them are just entertaining backstories and narrative handles for the audience). this is a violent process, however visual and symbolic it may be via reality TV. it remains a process on which your odds as a contestant depend completely. and of course no one has heard from either of these people i mentioned since, because there can only be one winner; and even if you win, you can still lose the game of being a winner. no one asks what happens to them when it’s over, much like many people don’t really think about military veterans. if you think about the post-games life of the winners in THG, they are literally what you get if you imagine a military veteran and a D-list celebrity being the same person. reality TV already IS a gladiators’ arena where people ARE fighting for their lives. the violence is just sublimated. like i said. internalize and visibilize the costs.

(there is something here too, in the overlap of spectacle, about how the contemporary US treats its soldiers more as signifiers, high priests of civic nationalism, and/or sin-eaters than as people. similarly reality TV contestants come to stand for certain archetypes of the nation.)  

#anonymous #2 #3 #4 #5 #books #YA #SFF #the hunger games

[revisitingstoneybrook]

#6 Kristy’s Big Day: Chapter 8

God, I really hate Karen.

So the first day of the BSC day care group is a success but then Karen goes and ruins it the next day. But you wouldn't be able to tell that from Dawn's entry in the BSC notebook. What a morning my group had - all thanks to Karen's imagination.

I'm noticing a pattern here. Every time Karen acts like an obnoxious, annoying, spoiled brat, the BSC just laughs, shakes their heads and blames her wild imagination! When with any other kid, they would complain about what a pain they were. DOUBLE STANDARD!

Ok, well they decide to take the kids out so they don't grow bored of hanging around the Thomases house all day. Hey, if they get bored, put them to work packing up the house and cleaning, since you have like two weeks to vacate! So they decide to all take little trips. Mary Anne takes the babies for a walk but she has the problem of cramming both babies in Beth's stroller. Mrs. Fielding didn't leave one? Though I guess it would look pretty weird, pushing two strollers at once. She finally remedies the situation by smushing Tony into Beth's lap, which does not sound safe at all, especially for the piece of crap strollers of the 80s. Eventually, Beth wants out (and I would too if I was a baby with another stuffed on my lap), so Mary Anne lets her toddle around next to them and you know how fast babies walk. So Mary Anne's occupied for the day with that.

Stacey takes her group to the park to catch minnows and...that's pretty much it. Some problems because Ashley's leg is broken, but she doesn't seem to mind. Also, I don’t know if kids from eight to ten would find catching minnows exciting but what do I know.

Claudia and Kristy combine their groups to go to storytime at the library. They pack bags of graham crackers and juice (yeah, try that at the library where I used to work) and diapers and toys and load the kids into David Michael's wagon and Mary Anne's old wagon. David Michael complains about them using his wagon because complaining is his other talent besides whining. They then head over to the Newton's, where Jamie joins them and Mrs. Newton breathes a sigh of relief because she now has time to go get the mail.

Dawn takes her group to the playground. And oh lord, this is going to be fun, just judging by Kristy's line here: Karen Brewer always seems to make things more interesting than usual. Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that. “More interesting” is code for “ruins stuff by being annoying.” And right away, she starts by telling David Michael and Berk that according to some “big kid” on her street, Martians are going to attack Earth at seven that evening.

Is this the same big kid that told her about Morbidda Destiny? If so, I hope someone gagged the bastard for putting these stupid ideas in her head. ARGH. Anyway, Dawn tells her that's stupid (well, in a nicer way than that. Dawn's bitchy, but not to the kids) but it's no use. Karen says the kid who told her is a big kid, in 8th grade. Of course, David Michael and Berk believe her. Kristy so gave Dawn this group on purpose.

Karen says the kid told her a lot of people know about this but they don't want to believe it. I guarantee this kid is also a 9/11 truther who thinks Covid is a hoax. And that JFK was murdered by a magic bullet. Also, Karen's really gullible, even for a six-year-old. Dawn tells them Martians are silly stuff (so ironic, considering she's Little Miss The Ghost of Jared Mullray is Haunting Me) and Karen insists it is not silly stuff.

They continue to the playground, the kids staring up at the sky. David Michael justifies the Martian thing by saying he saw them on TV. So, of course, they must be real. Dawn asks him if he thinks Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny are real because they’re on TV and David Michael says “No. But there might be Martians.” Dammit, kid on Karen's street, you unleashed a monster. Dawn once again reiterates there's no such thing as Martians but the kids say there are. You see where this is going.

The kids discuss what'll happen when they land and Dawn throws her hands up in exasperation. Wow, a babysitter losing their temper with a kid? Definitely an early book. But despite this being an early book, Dawn hasn't taken action against Karen. The kids keep scaring the shit out of each other, with talk of ray guns and spray guns (you know, guns that spray stuff so you can't move and they can bring you back to Mars) and Karen says UFOs are going to arrive. “Hundreds of 'em. All shiny and silvery.”

Did I mention I hate Karen? Because I do. And because she's the BSC Golden Child who can do no wrong and is always funny, cute, and imaginative, nothing happens.

Dawn, desperate for some distraction, pulls them over to an arts and crafts thing that's set up, with kids making puppets. It doesn't work because Berk asks David Michael if he can stay at his house and hide in the basement, because he doesn't know if his hotel has one. Dawn finally gets assertive and tells them to knock it off. Oh wait. She thought about telling them they weren't allowed to discuss Martians anymore, but decided that was too mean. I take back calling her assertive. Dawn, you're a wuss.

Dawn asks if they want to enter the puppet-making contest, then catches the kids whispering to each other. She tells them no secrets but Karen announces they're going to go swing, so she takes off with the others in tow. Dawn, completely oblivious, goes to find out about the puppet contest. A few minutes later, a little girl named Tina comes running over to Fran, one of the counselors. She's crying about Martians. Uh oh. Dawn marches over to the swingset to find Karen, David Michael and Berk warning the other kids about the Martian invasion.

One boy starts to cry and runs home, with others following him. Dawn, at this point, is pissed (I know, someone's actually angry at something Karen's doing). She orders them back to the puppet table, despite Karen's protests that she needs to warn everyone about the Martian attack. Hey Karen?

Everything's quiet for a bit, until a branch falls from a tree nearby and Karen shrieks that the Martians are coming. Kids scream in horror, run for the hills, cry for their mommy, all that stuff. Fran glares at Dawn and her group and Dawn apologizes profusely for what's going on. She offers to help find the kids, Fran tells her someone else is supposed to be at the playground soon and instead asks for them to get the hell out of here. And just like Elvis Costello from Saturday Night Live, Karen's been banned from the playground. Nice.

Dawn's really ticked off now. She finds her group hiding in a storage shed and takes them home. On the walk back, she gets off her ass and does some babysitting, scolding them for their behavior and giving them a talk about how they shouldn't scare the crap out of other kids. She also makes them promise not to talk about Martians anymore.

Thus concludes one of the very, very few times someone calls Karen out and yells at her for her bad behavior. A very rare occurrence indeed. Oh and Kristy throws in at the end how she's thinking of a special wedding present for her mom and Watson. What do you get for your mother and a millionaire? Hello there, Subplot That is Barely Dealt With.

#babysitters club #kristy's big day #kristy thomas #bsc #snark

[darkwoods-darkdreams]

Imagine you’re on a game show (I)

You shifted nervously backstage. When you had received a letter in the mail that you would be able to get a cash prize that would cover your university fees in full, you jumped at the chance. But now, you were worried about what you had signed up for. It was the first episode of the game show. Maybe you should have waited until you watched a few contestants from home before deciding to participate.

“Now, are you ready to meet your first contestant?” The host asked. The crowd roared in response.

The woman standing next to you listened to something in her earpiece before ushering you forward, “Good luck,” You weren’t sure if you were just hearing things, but it seemed that it was more of a warning than anything else.

You walked out onto the stage, the crowd growing louder as you approached the host. You were so nervous. You had never been on TV before. You had called your family and told them to watch, hoping that they would be able to see you win a glorious prize.

The host was attractive, tall with dark hair. He had a cute little conversation with you about who you were and why you had joined the show. He was quite charming.

With a flourish, he returned his attention to the audience, “Well then. Are you ready to start the show?” The crowd screamed and waved, “Then let’s get started!” He gestured behind him, where the floor opened up to reveal a chair. You had never seen anything like it. You fidgeted nervously, wondering what it was for. The game show’s synopsis had been vague. You knew that there was some sort of punishment involved, but it hadn’t specified on the form.

The host led you over to the chair. You sat down. Metal bands immediately snapped over your wrists and ankles, keeping you in place. You were surprised, but didn’t fight back. It was probably for your own safety, so you kept still.

“In this show, we have a penalty that’s never been seen before,” The host explained, “First, a little dose of something special,” He revealed a needled syringe, sticking it into your hip and emptying it into your body. At first, nothing happened. After a few seconds, however, you felt your body grow hot. You squirmed in your chair, becoming more and more uncomfortable. You had never been so turned on before. You tried rubbing your thighs together to get rid of the ache, but nothing worked.

“Second, preparation for our show’s penalty,” He brandished a pair of scissors, cutting your clothes from your body. You tried to escape the chair, but you weren’t strong enough. You opened your mouth to tell him to stop, only for him to cover his microphone with his hand, “You signed up for this, sweetheart. I hope you’re ready,” He winked before once again turning to the audience. You couldn’t believe this. You were naked in front of hundreds of people. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You hoped that your family wasn’t watching. Sure, there were plenty of game shows involving nudity, but you hadn’t been prepared for this.

“Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” The host held out his arm toward you. The chair suddenly shifted. You were leaned back, your legs spread and knees bent. Your eyes widened, knowing that you were bare for the world to see. You tried to ask the host what was going on, only for something to prod against your entrance. Before you could react, it shoved itself as far as it could go. You cried out, the crowd drinking in your discomfort. You glanced to one of the screens that you could see. It was a tube. You forced yourself to breathe slowly. You were fine. You would win the cash prize.

“Now, it’s time to explain the show we have in store for you,” The host smiled, still so charismatic despite having you in such a compromising position right next to him, “You, my dear little contestant have been injected with a fertility drug. I’m going to ask you twenty questions. For every correct answer, more money will be added to your total. For every wrong answer, you’ll be impregnated.”

You froze, eyes widening. He couldn’t be serious. The crowd was loving it, clearly in on the whole ploy from the start. You were speechless. You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t get pregnant now. You were halfway through university. You wouldn’t be able to continue your education while caring and providing for children.

“Now, the real challenge is the bonus question at the end. If you get it right, you get all of the money you’ve earned and your pregnancy will be reversed. If you get it wrong, then you don’t get the money and you’ll have to carry your baby, or babies, to term. You’ll stay here with us on the show so we can check on your progress every week until you give birth, which will be a special after-show,” The crowd cheered once again, “So, are you ready to begin your quiz?”

You didn’t have a choice. You had signed up for this. The show was live. They wouldn’t let you go now. Besides, you needed that money. The show’s practice questions had all been based on elementary school level classes, so you were bound to get through the questions and get the maximum amount of prize money. You nodded.

“Alright, first question: who founded the Icelandic town of Hofn?”

This had to be some sort of joke. Such a trivial question was the opposite of what had been advertised in the game show’s pamphlet. You stared at the host, his grin only widening as you hesitated. You didn’t know the answer. You doubted anyone in the audience knew that answer.

“We need an answer, sweetheart,” The host gestured to the clock counting down.

You swallowed thickly. You were already off to a horrible start. Maybe they always made one question hard on purpose, just to add a bit of tension. You shook your head, “I-I don’t know.”

The crowd cooed in response, but you knew that they weren’t on your side. They were all fidgeting in their chairs, waiting for your punishment to begin.

“Oh dear,” The host pretended to be upset, though he still seemed as vibrant as ever, “You know what a wrong answer means.”

The chair whirred beneath you, a thick liquid bubbling up the tube and into your entrance. With nowhere for it to go, it moved further into your body. By the time the machine stopped, your belly was slightly distended. You watched the screen fearfully, waiting.

Pressure suddenly overtook your womb, swelling outward. You groaned in pain, a new weight added between your hips. The crowd cheered, some of them already quite aroused.

“Question two…”

They had tricked you. All of the questions were so specific. Even the ones that you thought you had known the answer to were still judged as wrong by some technicality. Each time you answered a question wrong and more fluid was pumped into your womb, your belly rolled outward with yet another child. By the fifth, you were sweaty and squirming as your breasts leaked milk. On the tenth question, the tube had started moving to distract you. They were deliberately sabotaging you. The pace increased whenever you were about to answer, rendering your words useless as your back arched with yet another orgasm. They hooked you up to breast pumps after the fifteenth question, adding further humiliation and arousal. Some of the audience members looked like they were about to jump out of their seats, pull the tube from your entrance, and fuck you until they were empty to add their children to your growing belly.

As a special treat for the audience, the show had a quick raffle after the twentieth question. Those who wanted to participate had to pay in order to get their tickets put into the draw. Men jumped up, emptying their wallets and draining their credit cards. You watched the screen in horror. You were already so full. You had answered all twenty questions wrong. There were twenty babies inside of you. And they wanted to add more. Your womb was filled to the brim. You weren’t sure if another would fit.

The host remained by your side, rubbing his free hand over your stomach as he talked into the microphone to sell more raffle tickets. The contents of your womb were displaced with his touch, the weight moving around. You were gasping for air from both arousal and the heaviness. Each little shift was sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. The tube was still thrusting inside of you, but its pace was lazy. They wouldn’t let you orgasm unless it was beneficial for them. You squirmed. You didn’t know how long the gestation would be, but you already looked heavily pregnant.

“Ah, all of the tickets have been collected, I see,” The host beamed. The same woman that had ushered you on stage carried a bowl full of tickets to the host, who swirled his hand around before pulling a single slip, “Number 2398!”

A man got up from a row close to the front, holding up his own copy of the ticket. He was brought in front of you. You could see the bulge in his pants. He wore a suit that looked more expensive than all of your university expenses combined. His gaze swept over your form, his smirk growing. He could clearly afford to buy countless tickets without putting so much as a dent into his bank accounts.

“You’re quite the lucky man,” The host grinned, “You’ve won the chance to get your own turn with our darling little contestant!”

The rest of the crowd either cheered at the notion of an intimate show or groaned because their ticket hadn’t been chosen. The man in the suit loosened his tie, slipping it from his collar. He unbuttoned his jacket as the tube was pulled from your body. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, only for the man to free himself from his trousers and thrust into you. Your breathing was ragged as he grabbed your hips and moved deeper inside of you. The pace he initiated was slow but rough. You gripped the arms of the chair in an attempt to keep yourself grounded and focused on something other than what was buried between your thighs. But the fertility drug you had been dosed with was too potent and the babies rolling around in your stomach were bumping against every sweet spot you didn’t know you had. It wasn’t long before you and the man in the suit were both on the brink of release. His grip on you was bruising as each thrust became harder and deeper. You moaned with every movement. You couldn’t think of anything else but the heavenly orgasm you would have. Your family could be watching in horror as you were fucked on live television, but you merely begged for more.

You cried out, waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your legs quivered, chest heaving with each breath. Your walls twitched around the man, leading him to his own release. He buried himself to the hilt, the familiar heat pooling against your womb. Your stomach rolled outward again to accommodate your twenty-first child. He removed himself from your body and composed himself, though his hair was still disheveled and he wasn’t wearing his tie.

A bell sounded. You tensed a bit. It was the same noise they had used when you failed to answer a question.

The host frowned, though you could still see the amusement in his eyes, “Oh dear, you were so busy having fun that you were unable to answer the bonus question. That means that you’ve lost our little game. You’re be staying with us and you’ll keep your babies.”

“What?” They had tricked you again. They had distracted you so you wouldn’t be able to answer the question. You would have to carry all of your babies to term. All twenty-one of them. Tears filled your eyes, “No, you can’t-” You were interrupted by the tube once again thrusting into your entrance.

The host smiled, rubbing his hand over your stomach and keeping the microphone away from his face, “There’s just a few terms for your contract here with us. You’ll stay with us and we’ll provide you with everything you need. In exchange, the entire staff and anyone that pays well enough gets to use you however they like,” He winked, “Which includes me. You’ll give birth to all of your little darlings on a live special after the main show. If you go into labor before that, we’re going to keep those babies inside of you until the main show is over. We can’t be cutting into one program to show another,” He smiled, brushing your damp hair away from your face, “We’re also planning on a special season finale. All of the fan favourites will come back to play again with even more at stake. Since you were the first contestant in our show, you’re shoe-in to be selected.”

Two workers began to wheel you off stage, the breasts pumps and tube still whirring. You squirmed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The host waved as you left, then turned back to the audience, “Now, then, for our second contestant of the show!”

#series #on a game show #dub-con #human route #fpreg #bad ending route

[mtvswatches]

Jane the Virgin 2x20 – Chapter Forty-Two

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) I guess I should’ve figured the season finale would revolve around the wedding, but for some reason, I thought they would get married before that. What is it with TV shows and season finale weddings?

2) Jane is looking forward to spending Mother’s Day in the traditional Villanueva way – binge-watching telenovelas and bingeing ice-cream. But Petra sends her an invitation to start a new tradition, I guess. She’s organized a brunch so that they all get to spend Mother’s Day together and Rafael doesn’t need to split his time between the two households. Xiomara and Alba tell Jane to say no, but she just can’t break Petra’s heart.

3) They’re planning a crossover for Rogelio’s telenovela, and it seems epic…

Rogelio and Fernando are basically having a pissing contest to see who’s the biggest star, and Michael will inevitably get caught in the crossfire.

4) Anezka’s plan seems to be working perfectly…

Jane has to clear everything up with the school’s authorities, and she’s told she won’t be accepted back as a TA the next semester. Jane sets out to discover who is behind the fake email account and to prove that drama does not follow her around. Good luck with that.

5)  So, the narrator just said…

As my grandmother used to say: “Ay, not this guy.”

…and I’m here trying to figure out if this is a clue as to who the narrator is. It has to be. But I can’t remember any characters saying this before. Could it be Alba’s line and hence the narrator would be Jane? Or is it Xiomara’s and the narrator is Mateo? Or could it be something Jane will say at some point and it’s her grandson doing the narration?

6) Jane realizes Anezka is behind the fake email account because of her awkward grammar, and I’m kind of glad she discovered it quickly because I thought we were headed towards a “Jane thinks Petra tried to ruin her career and they fall out AGAIN and everyone fights during Mother’s Day.”

7) Jane tells Petra all about Anezka’s involvement in the fake email thing, and Petra agrees to talk to her to clear everything up… but they did get into a little thing regarding the Mother’s Day brunch, so they still might get into a fight. And I’m guessing Anezka will bring up the “Petra is not a hands-on mom” comment and make Petra explode.

8) Rogelio is still sleeping with his writer. She didn’t invite him to her birthday party because she assumed he wouldn’t get along with her “intellectual” friends and Rogelio begs her to give him a chance to bond with them, while recruiting Jane to give him an intellectual side. This should end well.

And the irony here is just *chef’s kiss*

9) As predicted, Anezka blurted out that Jane said Petra is not a good mother, which is not exactly what Jane said but it was subtly implied…

10) Well, Derek is blackmailing Rafael into selling him the Fairwick for a dollar. And yes, I’m still not interested in this storyline.

11) Rogelio channeling Michael Scott in a time-traveling soap opera? Michael Scott would love it!

12) When talking to Jane, Rogelio realized that even though Michael was grateful for the job he’d given him as head of security, he didn’t find it motivating. So, thanks to Michael’s expertise as a police officer, Rogelio promoted him to technical advisor, and Michael seems super excited about it. Rogelio is simply the best.

13) Petra confronts Jane about the “bad mom” comment, and it all spirals out of control, until both out of spite for Jane and a sense of kinship towards Anezka, Petra tells Jane Anezka didn’t place the ad.

14) Poor Anezka…

15) Well, Michael is taking his new job a little bit too seriously and I guess that’s not going to last long.

16) Rogelio asks Jane to show up at the dinner party to coach him through the conversation in person, and Xiomara encourages her to go. She seems to be handling Rogelio being in a new relationship quite well. I wonder if she’ll break down at some point.

17) Or she’ll make a terrible mistake, which is the Xiomara style…

18) Rogelio’s attempt to look smart fails miserably but he ends up admitting to his lady that he did the whole thing to impress her friends because he actually likes her. She admits that it was stupid, but it was also very sweet, and they seem to become closer because of it.

19) Jane admits to Rogelio that she wanted to be supportive and help him out but it made her feel uncomfortable and that while she’s always on his side, she needs a little bit more time to be totally on board with being around her dad’s new girlfriend. It’s a very sweet moment.

20) Dina! The lady writer is called Dina!

21) Hm. Rafael just opened up to Jane and told her everything about his brother, and she literally went inside and blurted it all out to Michael. This lady can’t keep a secret! You see what I mean? That’s not what a good person would do!

22) Rogelio made a video to celebrate Jane’s motherhood, and it’s very sweet, but I’m guessing it will make Petra feel like crap? Rogelio is simply the best, though!

23) Aww, Anezka is now trying to toast to Petra and she’s so sweet.

24) Narrator is dropping a lot of hints in this episode…

And while we’re sharing about our moms, can I just say I have the greatest, most supportive, bestest mother, ever? Love you, mamma, so much.

25) Even though it ended up being a tolerably pleasant event, Jane just can’t hold it any longer and starts screaming at Anezka and calling her a liar. And again, this makes me dislike her? Yes, she was right, but was it really the moment to do that? Did she really have to rip her head off just when they were about to leave and they had survived the whole afternoon? And of course, this happened as a result…

26) After they release her from the hospital, Anezka admits that she did in fact post the ad and naively tells Petra to stop lying for her. She’s trying to make amends, but this only allows Jane to get back on her high horse and judge Petra. I don’t know, am I the only one who slightly dislikes Jane…?

27) Michael seems to have an epiphany as regards Derek’s alibi and calls his former partner (I think?) to ask her to let him join the case again.

28) Anezka is pretending to be Petra? Did they really have to turn her into the evil twin? So this means that she has been playing the naive, childish role to manipulate everyone around her. I guess I should’ve seen it coming considering how many times they referred to the Evil Twin Trope in this episode. But I honestly thought they would try to subvert the trope? 

29) Yep, mistakes were made.

30) Petra tells Rafael he was an idiot to tell Jane about the whole blackmail thing, and I agree with her. Why did he tell Jane when Jane is marrying Michael, an ex-cop? And why didn’t he tell Petra, who is his business partner? Oh, of course, plot reasons.

31) Muter is back, I guess. This doesn’t make this storyline any more interesting.

32) So I’m guessing the season finale will be split between the wedding and Michael getting caught in this crime ring thing, right? Eh, that doesn’t sound too exciting to me. We’ll see.

33) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

#Jane the Virgin #Jane Villanueva #Gina Rodriguez #Rogelio De La Vega #Michael Cordero #Petra Solano #Anezka #JTV recap #recap #JTV 2x21 #mine

[speakingformyself101-blog]

The Death of a Friend

‘Death waits for no man’- Markus Zusak

You can never prepare yourself for death. He doesn’t wait until you’re ready, he could care less about your last goodbyes. It doesn’t matter if your good or bad, young or old, death is indiscriminate by nature. Death waits for no man, and he certainly didn’t wait for my friend Joe, who died before he could truly live.

I first met Joe after packing my bags and flying to China with dreams of becoming a teacher. Having arrived at the school a day before me, Joe and I became fast friends; both from England, freshly graduated, and severely out of our element, we found comfort in the familiarity of each other. Genuine and uncomplicated, the friendship blossomed over our shared endeavour to navigate the unknown. Eventually more friends were added on, and we established our own little squad, unbreakable and ready to take on whatever China could throw at us. We laughed together, celebrated each other’s achievements, and provided a shoulder to cry on.

Grief had always been an ambiguous concept to me; never having lost someone I was close to before, my experience and understanding of it derived primarily from TV. This ultimately made it difficult for me to empathise with others, and aside from the customary “I’m sorry for your loss”, my thoughts didn’t venture much further than that. That’s not to say I was some sort of emotionless psychopath, of course I sympathised for those going though such tragedy; believe me when I tell you I was a blubbering wreck for the full 2 hours of P.S. I Love You. But my emotions always had a shallowness to them, which eventually shifted to scepticism. Too often when I witnessed grief on TV it seemed exaggerated to me; the heartache taken and twisted into a caricature-esque illustration of its original self. I looked at it as an over-saturation of real-life, reserved for the big screen to justify drawn-out movie sequences where the main character screams and rages of the injustice of it all while melancholic piano plays softly in the background

It was only after experiencing grief personally that I realised wherein my derision lied. Oftentimes movies and TV shows will portray a character in denial or anger, but fail to show the mental journey that has taken place within the character’s mind to lead them there. Subsequently, to someone ignorant of the psychological proceedings that occurs internally when processing the death of a loved one, it can seem as if these reactions simply manifest out of thin air, with no rhyme or reason to them. Though I can only speak for myself, this failing stripped the emotions of its sincerity, making it harder to empathise with.

 ‘We begin to live again, but we cannot do so until we have given grief its time.’- Kubler Ross’s ‘The 5 Stages of Grief’ (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance)

In Kubler Ross’s ‘The 5 Stages of Grief’ (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance) he discusses the mental dealings behind the core emotions we feel while grieving, including its reason, importance to the grieving process, and how we move past it.  He emphasises that ‘there is not a typical response to loss as there is no typical loss. Our grief is as individual as our lives’. My experience with grief was similar to others in many ways, yet personal disposition, circumstances, and the nature of our friendship meant that my understanding and relationship with grief was wholly my own.

‘This first stage of grieving helps us to survive the loss’

When I first heard the news from a friend over the phone, I was in another country at the time. My denial didn’t manifest in the form of ‘I can’t believe this has happened’ but rather ‘I don’t believe this has happened’. What I mean by this is that, it’s not that I couldn’t accept the truth, but that I actively choose not to. It created a divide in my head, deep down I was aware that I was only lying to myself, but I did it anyway because there was no other option for me at that point. I did whatever I could to strengthen this pipe dream; I told myself that my friend sounded too composed over the phone (he was in shock), that it was just some sick prank they were playing, that motorcycle accidents don’t happen to 21-year-old’s who haven’t even been given the chance to live yet. Me and Joe worked together, and I remember checking the work chat every day thinking that until they make an announcement, there’s still a chance it’s all fake. The physical distance between me and Joe made it so much easier to create a mental distance between myself and the truth. It became a case of seeing is believing, and until someone could provide me with physical evidence of his death, I would carry on this ruse.

During my young teens, I was a sucker for the so-called ‘Girl Power’ storyline. Movies that pitted the strong-willed wall-flower against the sheltered and bird-brained female antagonist was my bread and butter. I had always envisioned myself as that strong-willed wallflower, a survivor at the core who could face whatever life throws at her head on, as if anything less would be a weakness. I grew to realise how utterly delusional of a mind-set that was, and appreciate the importance of allowing yourself to be emotionally vulnerable. However with all that said, it still makes me feel awkward to this day when I look back on my reaction to first hearing the news and think about how delusional I must have appeared to others. Eventually you just have to accept that, as Kubler- Ross states: ‘There is a grace in denial’, it is not a weakness one has to overcome, but rather a coping mechanism that allows us to handle only what we can.

‘Anger is the emotion we are most used to managing’

When I returned home, I could no longer deny what was right in front of me any longer; I could see my friend’s absence, and so I was forced to believe it. It was at this point when the beginnings of anger started to kick in. There was no clean-cut shift from denial to anger, one emotional state didn’t suddenly swoop in and knock the other off its pedestal. In his essay, Kubler emphasises that there is no ‘linear timeline in grief’. In my case, anger was born from my denial, it stemmed from no longer being able to keep denying what was now undisputable. I started to project this anger onto other people, getting annoyed when they openly discussed the details of what happened at work. What is there to talk about? He's gone, where was everyone constantly shoving the fact down my throat? To this day I still don’t know the full story of the accident because I was so against discussing it. All I wanted to do was bury my head in the sand, and it seemed like no one was going to let me do it in peace.

My anger started to turn ugly, I remember seeing a post someone made about how much Joe meant to them and thinking: why would you post this? You weren’t even that close to him? It felt disingenuous, like suddenly people were popping up out of the woodworks to add their two cents and make it all about them. I saw this attitude reflected in others around me, the occasional sly comment, a judgemental pause of silence, as if because you were closer to Joe it allowed you to police how others grieve and to what degree.

*Dusts off psychology A-level certificate*

Building any kind of relationship as a foreigner in China is a social experiment in its own right. Unable to communicate with the locals, unfamiliar of the cultural norms, and oftentimes going days without seeing an foreigner you haven’t already met, you begin to heavily rely upon the few friends you do make in China. Add on to this a 6-hour time differences and the Great VPN Firewall of China restricting accessibility to family and friends back home, you find yourself living in a social bubble. This same isolationism can be seen in reality shows like Love Island and Big Brother, which force their contestants into environments with little to no outside communication. The resulting effects is that relationships, both romantic and platonic, develop at an abnormally fast rate; it made the few months that I knew Joe much more potent than was normal. In such a short space of time Joe had carved a space for himself in my life: he was a colleague, friend, and brother all rolled into one. If I was stressed over something I came to him, if I was proud of something I came to him. But this still didn’t change the fact that, in the grand scheme of things, we were only a chapter in each-others stories, and so when it came to mourning his death, an overwhelming sense of inadequacy and guilt began to emerge.

In the same way that I judged others, I was judging myself. I began to question the validity of my own feelings, whether the short time I knew him justified such strong heartache or if I, like so many of the movies I watched before, simply up-playing a role I thought was appropriate. Did I deserve to feel so sad over someone I barely knew? Who was I to have enjoyed his last few months on earth while his family and lifelong friends couldn’t. When I was sat next to his family at the funeral, I felt like an imposter.

‘Acceptance is often confused with the notion of being “all right” or “OK” with what has happened’-Kübler-Ross & David Kessler

I wish someone had told me beforehand that acceptance does not always equal peace, sometimes it just leads to more heartache and depression. The comforting warmth of denial and distracting heat of anger had been rudely ripped away and what am I left with now? The cold hard truth, what a scam.

Accepting that my friend was gone didn’t suddenly make it easier to digest, if anything it made me question everything. Though it seems obvious, it wasn’t his death that was the hardest to grasp, it was the idea that he no longer existed, or at least not in the way he once did.

Kubler describes this stage as ‘accepting the reality that our loved one is physically gone and recognizing that this new reality is the permanent reality’. In the end, no matter what you believe, notions about an afterlife are all well and good, but it doesn’t change the fact that those passed are no longer in the here and now. How can a walking, talking person, with their own thoughts and dreams for the future, now simply be food for worms? How can someone who was previously physical only now exist in the memories of others? I didn’t want the responsibility of keeping someone alive through only my mind and a few pictures.

‘‘There is not a typical response to loss as there is no typical loss. Our grief is as individual as our lives’

If there is one thing I took away from this experience, it’s the understanding that grieving is a fiercely personal act, idiosyncratic to the individual. I witnessed friends who cried for weeks on end after hearing the news, while others did so only once. I saw friends find comfort in the company of others, and those who found peace through solitude. Some gained a stronger relationship with God, whereas some started to question everything that they once believed.  I realised that the cause behind my judgement of all these tv shows was the same thing that made me condemn those who posted their feelings on social media: I am a very private person, and so these open displays of emotion didn’t relate to me. That’s not to say that I didn’t feel the exact same emotions as everyone else did, but when it comes to my emotions, I’m an introvert at heart. I don’t post my feelings on social media, I rarely cry in front of others, and big public displays of affection only make me cringe. If given the option, I will always choose to implode than explode. This ultimately lead me to my third and final revelation: Everyone grieves in their own way, there is no right, cookie-cutter, one size fits all way to grieve. In the end, it doesn’t matter how you grieve or how long for, it’s about allowing yourself to experience the emotion and working through it to one day achieve some form of equilibrium to this new reality.  It’s a journey we all must walk, and one we can only do ourselves.

For anyone who is currently dealing with death for the first time, here are a few websites where you can find support:

https://www.supportline.org.uk/problems/bereavement/

https://www.cruse.org.uk/get-help/helpline

https://www.itv.com/thismorning/bereavement-helplines

#death #grief #friend #loss #mourning #5 stages of grief #five stages of grief

[exhoe-imagines]

the hotel styx → lty

summary → you are sent away on a business trip, but soon find yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere. the hotel styx seems accommodating enough, but you’ll soon find it isn’t just any hotel...

word count → 2.2k

warnings → incubus!au, mentions of blood/torture (not to the reader or from taeyong), monsters, spooky things, suggestive/almost smut; fem!reader

a/n → shoutout to my nct hoes, hope you guys are having a happy halloween!! this is partly inspired by american horror story (hotel season) and goosebumps ~ admin jewels

You sigh in frustration as the car radio loses its clarity, the 80s pop music fading in and out until it’s completely static. You switch through the channels, looking for anything to distract you from the thunderstorm outside, but find nothing. The car continues down the bumpy, one-way road in search of a town you’ve never visited before. In fact, you’ve never ventured this far into the countryside, but here you are – on a business trip to some town over 100 miles from your house.

It’s completely dark at this point, the only lights around coming from your headlights. Your pulse increases as lightning strikes nearby, much too close for comfort. It suddenly hits you that you haven’t seen any house or building in over 20 minutes. You silently curse yourself for deciding to take such a job. Who knew these rural towns could be so creepy?

You’re just about to pull over and look for an old CD when the engine begins to sputter, slowly at first until it all at once brings the car to a halt. You groan loudly as you retry the ignition, only finding that it won’t restart. You scream in frustration, knowing there’s nobody around to hear you anyway. Oh God… you realize, there’s nobody around… Panic immediately sets in and you reach for your phone to call somebody, but to your amazement, it’s dead. You swore it was fully charged when you last looked at it! That is when you really start to panic, becoming all too aware that you are stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Well, it must not be the middle of nowhere with a red, flashing sign like that – you stare through the front window at the Vacancy sign down the street. You swear you didn’t see it until just moments ago. Oh well, must be some kind of good luck…

You hike up the road to the flashing hotel, cursing yourself for wearing such impractical shoes. By the time you reach the entrance, you’re drenched with rain. You scrunch your eyes as you try to read the name of the hotel on the door – The Hotel Styx? You decide you must be seeing things, maybe the rain is blurring your vision. A warm draft coats you as you enter the hotel, its golden lighting and dry interior already bringing you relief. You head through the lobby, straight ahead to the reception desk – but something seems off… Why is it empty? You spin around, eyes scanning the plush furniture, the empty hall to your right. It really is empty! You’re about to panic again when you hear the notes of a piano from down the hall. The melody reverberates through the lobby, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can’t help but follow the sound, as if you were in a trance. The piano grows louder and louder as you near it, just turning the corner from the hall into the ballroom. You see the piano straight ahead, a flash of red hair appears behind it – and then the music suddenly stops and there’s a hand on your shoulder. You jump, emitting the smallest screech you’ve ever uttered.

“I’m sorry madam, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologizes as you turn around to face him.

His red hair is the first thing you see, its color shockingly bright and unusual. His slender eyes crease as he smirks, some kind of cruel humor on his face. It seems he is amused at your shaken state.

You cough and attempt to straighten your posture, “My car broke down, I need to contact the nearest auto shop.”

“Ah, well I’m sorry to say, it’s over an hour away. They most likely wouldn’t arrive until the morning,” he replies, “but… you are welcome to stay here for the night. Come right this way,” his voice is suddenly chirpy as he guides you to the reception area.

“No, I didn’t say I need a room,” you trail after him, “I still have over 50 miles to drive tonight!”

“Listen, darling,” his voice and face flatten as he stares at you over the counter, “Nobody is available tonight. Your best bet is to stay here.”

For some reason, his answer silences your worries and you decide it may not be so bad to stay here for the night. After all, the rain and lightning outside was pretty scary to drive through.

“Here you are,” he hands you a bronzed key with a smirk, “Room 311, take the elevator on your right.”

“I need to get my luggage –“ you begin.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll bring it up for you.”

“Uh - thanks,” you say as you head to the elevator, surprised by his hospitality.

The halls are quiet as you navigate them, far too quiet. Eventually, you find your room and crash on the bed. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from all that driving… You decide to relax and watch some TV. You grab the remote, pressing the power on and waiting to see what HBO is airing tonight. Some kind of reality cooking show appears, where multiple contestants in chef uniforms are running around a luxury kitchen. You scoff as you see a plate of what looks like human brain being served to a judge – isn’t Halloween like 2 months away? These people celebrate far too early, you think before changing the channel. The next channel shows a doctor talking to a patient in his office. Based on the doctor’s flawless complexion and taut cheekbones, you assume he’s a plastic surgeon.

“You know, I’m just so insecure about it-“ his patient explains as she turns around, pulling her hair back, “I hate being reminded of how I died. It’s just so – morbid…”

She parts her hair to unveil… a fully open gunshot wound in the back of her head? You cringe in disgust, immediately flipping the channel once again. Is everyone celebrating Halloween early now? You’re distracted from your thoughts by a scream emitting from the television. A man is layed out on a metal slab, his mouth is stretched open by some contraption, and the skin on his face is almost completely removed. Another man stands over him, a scalpel and set of pliers in his hands as he giggles horrifically toward the camera.

You’re screaming and slamming the off button on the remote in no time, rushing out of the room. What kind of hotel is this? You panic as you scurry down the hall, looking for the elevator. You realize you’re lost as you hit a dead-end with no exit in sight. You turn around, running back the way you came, only to find another dead-end. Luckily, a hotel room door swings open to your right - a plump, older maid exiting with her maid’s cart.

“Everything alright, sweetie?” she asks, concern plastered across her face.

“No! No, I just - I need to get out of here. Where is the elevator?”

“Oh darling, what in the world is the matter?”

“The TV! It’s showing horrible things! Evil things, evil!” you hide your face in your hands, the image of the tortured man running through your mind over and over again.

“Now, now, I’m sure you’re just imagining that. Let me come take a look,” she says, allowing you to lead her back to the hotel room.

Your skin crawls as you reenter the room and see the television set in front of you.

“There! Turn it on, you’ll see,” you motion toward the remote on the bed.

She takes her time waddling up to the screen and pressing it on. You creep up next to her, afraid of what will be on the screen next. The image of the tortured man reappears, this time his teeth are being plied from his mouth one at a time. You scream, clamping your hands over your ears to muffle his cries.

“Is this what you were talking about?” the maid questions, her voice unaffected.

“Yes!” you scream, turning away from the TV, “Turn it off! Please!”

She’s silent and you’re worried for a moment that she’s in shock, but soon enough you hear her. She begins to laugh, softly at first, building up into a loud cackle. You spin around to find her utterly transformed, no longer a soft, pudgy grandma. Her eyes have sunken in, the skin of her face has become faded, almost like decomposed skin. Your voice is caught in your throat as she comes near you, still laughing in that possessed manner. It takes far too long for you to react, but finally you’re running to the door, screaming for help at the top of your lungs. You sprint down the hall, only to turn and find her running after you like a banshee – her legs far too agile for her age. Your heart is ready to give out when you run into someone and are knocked to your feet.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?”

Of course, it’s the bellhop. He seemed to be just getting off the elevator when you ran into him.

“The maid!” you scream, pointing wildly behind you, “She’s a monster, she – she’s possessed!”

He chuckles lightly as you spin around and see the maid behind you. Somehow, she’s back to her grandma self, standing politely in front of you.

“Get away! Get back,” you yell, backing up behind the bellhop.

She smiles sweetly at you before turning to him, “I’ll go back to cleaning, don’t mind me.”

He nods to her as she turns around and heads back down the hall to her assigned rooms, leaving you in a sweating puddle in the middle of the carpet.

“C’mon darling, let’s get you back to the room,” he coos as he helps you to your feet, offering his arm for support, “I think you’re seeing things…”

With his help, you make it back to the hotel room safely, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

“What kind of establishment is this?” you cry as he helps you lay on the bed.

You swear your vision is becoming hazier by the minute. Everything seems like it’s… glowing?

“It’s a pretty great establishment, don’t you think?” he smirks as he sits on the bed next to you, “In fact, it’s my establishment, so you better like it…”

His words filter through your head, but once he’s spoken them, you can barely remember them. All you can see is the increasingly scarlet color of his eyes and the way his lips glisten like they’re covered in silk. You begin to lose your breath, like something is pulling you into a trance. The fuzzy feeling reemerges, washing over you like a wave. You’re afraid you’ll fall asleep when suddenly the bellhop is lying next to you, staring into your face.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Taeyong.”

An overwhelming wave hits you as he speaks. You realize then that it’s him. He’s calling you to him and you know you have no will to resist. You’re drawn to him like a magnet, planting your mouth onto his with ease. You can feel him smirk into the kiss, like this is what he had been waiting for the entire night. His hands are everywhere at once, you swear he must have a dozen hands. The smoothness of his mouth accosts you with every kiss, like he’s coaxing the essence of your soul out with every breath.

“Give into me,” he pulls away from your lips to rip off your clothes, “Don’t hide. I see you.”

You’re completely at his mercy as he unclothes you, his eyes burning into your naked flesh.

“I see you.”

A noise stirs you awake, the bright light of the sun streaming through the windows into your eyes. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust and your body to fully wake up. You yawn, pulling your hair out of your face to find that you’re seated in the front seat of your car. Your keys are on the seat next to you, like you had decided to stop in the middle of the night and rest. You sit up and take a look at your surroundings outside. Fields stretch for miles on all sides, aside from the single-lane road you had been driving on. You thank yourself for deciding to park and sleep, rather than risk your chances dozing off while driving. You check your phone, thanking God that it’s fully charged. And luckily, you still have several hours to make it to your meeting. You grab a drink from your backseat and turn the car on, ready to get this trip over with.

You sigh as you make it into the Best Western, leaving your luggage by the door and diving into the bed. You’re relieved that you made it to the town with time to spare, allowing you to rest for an hour before heading to the appointment. You’re about to drift to sleep when you roll over and feel something poking you in your side. You yelp, sitting up and rummaging through the pocket of your jacket. A bronze key emerges, a small piece of red plastic dangling from it. The Hotel Styx? Where did that come from?

#lee taeyong #taeyong #taeyong oneshot #nct halloween #nct oneshot #nct demon au #taeyong demon au #lee taeyong demon au #taeyong smut #nct smut #lee taeyong smut #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2018

[odysseywritings]

2 Friends go to a Halloween Party for Possible Dates

A woman in her mid-20s with chin-length dark brown hair and adorning a white collar shirt sped-walk her way to her apartment with a mixture of glee and anxiety. She sped up her way up the stairs as she called out someone’s name excitedly.

“Izzy, Izzy, Izzy!” she whooped. “I got some great news!”

She banged on the door a few times. Happiness giving way to irritation as she knocked some more.

“It is open, Rose” a slow feminine voice from the other side chimed. 

Rose opened the door to find Izzy, a woman with long curly black hair and wearing a purple robe, sitting down in the middle of the room with her eyes closed. The room was blackened except for several candles lighting various areas.

“I was close to contacting a spirit named Jeremiah,” Izzy said without turning her head. “I hope you understand that.”

“The occult stuff can wait,” Rose waved her hand. “Right now, I got something to tell you!”

Rose turned on the light as Izzy sighed and looked at her with a serious look.

“So I overheard some coworkers, I wasn’t eavesdropping about one’s DUI situation by the way, and one of them brought up a Halloween party downtown.”

“I hate parties. And since when have you ever enjoyed scary things?”

“Hey, I’ve seen plenty of scary people at work. I just need a breather from horror movies.” She sighed and composed herself. “Anyway,” She continued with a smile and twirled her hair. “There’s a certain coworker that I’m really liking… And he said he’d be there!”

“Ah. Well, hope you have a good time.” Izzy said as she closed her eyes again.

“And he mentioned having a sister who’s also single~”

Izzy turned her head. “Go on.”

Rose grinned as she was relaxing and ditching her work clothes for casual wear.

“If she’s like her brother, then I feel she’d be laid-back,” Rose added. “Which thank God, I get so tired of assholes every day. Only I’m allowed to be high-maintenance!” 

“Don’t I know it,” Izzy quipped. “What’s their names?”

“Cosmo and Maddie Peters,” she continued. “He’s kinda stoic and sluggish, so I thought he was going to be cold and lazy. But he’s very reliable, covers the other guys when they can’t make it, and lightens up the mood if I’m feeling especially pissy.”

“Yin-Yang, huh?”

 “His sister’s the same I think,” she sat down on the couch wearing a red t-shirt and maroon shorts and turned on the TV. “He says she’s really upbeat and into a lot of alternative junk. Not bad things, just out-there things. So you and her can talk about counter-culture stuff.”

“I already love her energy. Carefree and unchained by social constraints.”

“That’s the spirit! I want this to be a natural, authentic experience.” She whipped out a list with an eager grin. “So I made a list of things we should do before, during, and after the party!”

Izzy stared in utter befuddlement. Any snark coming to her were failing as Rose was about to commence talking her ear off.

“Why not,” Izzy began, “we just start with costumes to where and go from there?”

Rose blinked. “You are so right. Oh, I need to write down what I’d look good as.”

Izzy sighed and slumped back, content with something morbid and gruesome in her head.

The women exited their building with their costumes completed. Rose went with a classic black cat costume complete with black marker whiskers and fake fangs. Izzy conversely went with a zombie look with make-up used to have her skin appear rotting and her eyes discolored through gray contact lenses. Sunset’s orange and violet coloring closed in on them as they headed out, Rose having a purposeful stride as Izzy followed with a calm gait.

“So how do you think we should break the ice,” Izzy inquired. 

“First thing’s first,” Rose said. “We compliment their costumes no matter how weird they look to us.” She looked at Izzy’s zombie get-up. “Or just to me.”

“Maybe ask what they like, too.”

“Yes! Then we just have to be our normal selves. Mostly. In acceptable doses.”

“You are really overthinking this. I’d just be glad if the sister is even looking for someone like me.”

“I met a lot of picky guys, alright? But you’re right, he doesn’t seem like the type to be judgy.”

They approached a sign attached to a street light that welcomed guests to a ‘frighteningly fun time’ with cutesy skulls and pumpkins decorated on it with a 21+ disclaimer underneath. 

“This is it, Izzy,” Rose affirmed. “Rember. Acceptably weird.”

Izzy looked at her and shrugged.

“While we look for them let’s enjoy ourselves with some games,” Izzy maintained. “Wait. How am I going to know what they look like if they’re wearing costumes.”

“Oh, Cosmo will probably wear something strange.”

“Wow, you’re right. That really does help narrow it down.”

“Just trust me! We’ll find them soon enough.”

Without looking, Rose bumped into a man considerably taller than her wearing a dark green cloak. The man gave her a wretched look with his intense blue eyes.

“Oh my god!” Rose gasped. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

The cloaked man glared at her and raised a finger.

“Watch your step, you idiot.”

“Watch your mouth, micro-nuts,” Rose chided. 

The man was too perplexed to make a comeback and only looked at her again before the two girls headed off.

“The nerve of that guy!” Rose went on. “Grr! Let’s just find them and get it over with.”

“You’re not going to get on the boy’s good side with that attitude,” Izzy retorted. “Let out some steam and play a game.”

“Right, yeah,” Rose grumbled and sighed. 

One of the stands had a pumpkin carving contest and Rose took up the chance to use her frustration on a vegetable. She sat on a free chair and readied herself as Izzy went elsewhere. As time went on, the pirate-dressed judge was impressed by the contestants but was frightened by Rose’s intense carving and her creation of a screaming face. The clock rang, and the judge gave the winning prize of a candy basket to a person with a witch carving. Rose slumped, but at least the energy was out of her.

“Well,” she started. “That was a good game anyway.”

“I’ll say,” a baritone voice said from her right side.

The sound made her eyes widen and she turned to see a light heaired man wearing a wizard robe and hat smiling with a glazed look as he slowly waved.

“H-Hi, Cosmo!”

“Hi, Rose. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Me neither.” She paused. “I mean- It’s a nice surprise to find you here!”

He nodded. “I liked your technique of stabbing the hell out of the pumpkin. It’s a dying art I feel.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I got a bad mood from a jerk earlier. But I’m much better now.” 

She looked at his carving with a raised brow.

“I like the… carrot?”

“Spaceship.”

“That was my second guess.”

They both laughed, though Rose’s loud cackle dominated his mild chuckle.

“By the way,” Cosmo continued. “My sister’s here too. I think she’d get a kick out of you.”

“Oh, what a coincidence! My friend is here, too. We’re like sisters in a very loose way.”

“You could say that,” Izzy interrupted from behind.

“Jesus!” Rose jumped and clutched her chest. She breathed heavily until she cooled down. “Uh, Cosmo. This is Izzy Watson. Izzy, Cosmo Peters.”

The two strangers looked at each other with mild expressions.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Excellent,” Rose mumbled. She looked at Izzy who gave her an expectant reaction. “Oh! You said your sister was here? We’d like to meet her if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

He stayed in his chair for a good while as Rose tapped her foot anxiously.

“Cosmo?”

“Oh, I don’t know where she is. But we can find her.”

“Ngk. Sure, that’d be fine.”

The trio searched around until they saw a redheaded woman excitedly bobbing for apples in vampire attire. 

“Found her,” Cosmo said.

“How can you tell,” Izzy replied.

“Because redhead vampires are really rare.”

Izzy was stunned by his nonchalance and decided to just accept the answer. The woman waved to Cosmo with the apple still in her mouth as she jogged to them. 

“He~y!” she bubbled. “Cosmo, who are these lovely ladies?”

“Mattie, this is my coworker Rose Nakano.”

“Hey, how are ya!” Mattie burst.

“And her friend Izzy Watson.“

“Hi, there,” she cooed. “That zombie make-up looks really cool.”

Izzy’s frown lifted slightly and thanked her as she pushed her hair back. Rose in turn was smiling at the two getting along.

“Hmm,” Rose pondered. How about we travel together for a bit? We never get much chance to talk outside of work, Cosmo. And Izzy actually wants to talk to someone.”

Cosmo tapped his chin. “Yeah, all right.”

The 4 traveled around, with Rose initiating conversations with Cosmo about music tastes.

“Get out!,” Rose exclaimed and playfully shoved Cosmo. “You like Thunder Star, too?! I love their riffs and goofy music videos!” 

“Same,” Cosmo softly said with a small smile. “Johnny Fingers is the best rock bassist. I love how you can hear him. It’s really melodic and cool.” He smiled more as his face reddened to Rose’s delight.

On the other end, Mattie talked with Izzy about horror movies they saw recently including a folk horror movie about 17th century New Englanders.

“And there’s a lot of historical accuracies and everything,” Mattie blurted. “I think the focus on paganism being evil is really cliche, but the movie is so tense that I completely let it slide!”

“If you like horror,” Izzy smirked. “You’ll really like ‘Grid’. It’s about a serial killer in a town that loses all its electricity in one night.”

“Ugh, I hate that image, but I want to see it!”

“I can rent it for us to watch sometime.”

“Count me in,” Mattie replied as she twirled her hair.

Eventually the pairs split off to do various games as fog was covering the outdoor party, having a blue coloring that was mostly ignored by the 4 in their joyous moments.

#pretty long read #halloween #romance #F/M and F/F #perhaps something spooky later on?! #ooooooo #writeblr #njm

[siyeonrk]

MGA SEASON FIVE !      EP. 1 → PART ONE: CALLBACK PERFORMANCE       ( SINGING FLY 0:00 - 1:55 )

when she receives the email, she assumes it’s a politely-worded rejection letter ( albeit automated and thus, void of any actual sympathy ). it’s disguised a little like a positive note from the subject line, but siyeon’s received enough strongly worded emails from her parents about her behaviour at boarding school to know that’s how they reel you in — give you a false sense of serenity before hitting you with the hard stuff. so, she doesn’t rush to open it. she’s in the middle of her shift, hands ( and now phone ) covered in flour so she pushes it to the back of her mind and carries on through to the evening, the notification almost forgotten until she gets into the safety of her bedroom at home. 

a text from jeno lights up her screen but she barely reads the message. instead, her eyes are drawn to the box below it, the sender screaming at her loud and clear. mnet global auditions. yes, her rejection email, and so finally, she picks up her phone with little care, sighs as she clicks through to read it. 

congratulations. she thinks it strange to include the word on your final communication with someone, but the further she reads, the more it sinks in that this isn’t a rejection, far from it, actually. by some miracle, she’s through to the next round, one of far too many whittled down to a mere hundred— how had she sneaked her way in? endless wit and charm? potential for spinning a narrative down the line? she can barely believe it. 

so she reads it again, reloads and reloads as if closing the app or restarting her phone will prove to her that it’s just a figment of her imagination, that it isn’t real — that she hasn’t been contacted for a callback. if her phone hadn’t cost so much ( and hold so many memories ) she’d have dropped it straight to the hard floor. 

the next morning, when it’s all finally sunk in somewhat, she re-reads it again with a clear mind. two minutes, prepare a song, dance or rap for judges and the other ninety-nine contestants. for a moment, she feels a little nervous. she’s never sang for a group so large before, her biggest venue being her friend’s family-and-friends-only birthday party in late 2017 of about fifty people. or rather, forty-five that were actually awake by the time she took the microphone. god, who thought inviting their conservative extended family and all their grandparents to an 18th birthday party was a good idea? out of loyalty, she sang the full five songs she promised she would but after the second verse of the first, she was ready to call it a night. 

regardless, she has to do it. if not to be able to say she did, then to prove to herself that she can. her biggest problem is choosing a song. she already knows immediately that she’ll sing. what is the real question, though. for the auditions, she’d chosen something she felt would be entertaining and upbeat enough on a long day, but she doesn’t want to continue doing exactly the same thing. she’s not thinking too much about making herself memorable amongst so many likely far more talented contestants; in all honestly, the probably vital concept completely slips her mind. instead, she’s wondering how she can build upon what she auditioned with, how she can show something a little different without venturing so far out of her comfort zone that she risks it all. she wants to sing something familiar, something soft, without it being just another happy acoustic guitar and piano song. maybe something slow and sensual? an english ballad? 

in the end, spending hours scrolling through songs, she settles on something closer than she’d intended, but still distant enough that she feels that it gives off a different vibe. this time, she should have the chance to show off a little more colour to her voice. there’s a little tame belting, plenty of opportunities for her to adlib. it’s a great version of an otherwise very pop song, too, that she hopes most of the audience aren’t familiar with so it piques their interest when the backing track starts. 

only time will tell, and tell it will, as she spends the next few days practising it endlessly. her coworkers are fed up of her noise in the kitchen, her grandmother even grew tired of her singing wherever she is, whatever she’s doing, that she’d started going out on walks to the convenience store more, despite siyeon’s protests about her health. ( the doctor had said it’d be good for her to get out more, get fresh air and stretch her legs, but siyeon worries. she always worries. ) 

when the time comes, she nervously takes a seat, re-tucking her t-shirt into the waist of her jeans. the belt feels a little tight under all the lights and the pressure of so many eyes scanning by her as each contestant seems to be glancing at their competition. it’s hard not to run over the crowd growing when she knows there’ll be familiar faces amongst them, friends she’s not seen for a while because they’re all so busy with this and even a few ex-idols, too. her curiosity usually gets the better of her, after all. 

the hustle and bustle begins to die down as the next step of the auditioning process begins. now it feels like a tv show, with their elaborate stage and the lights dimming and cameramen whizzing around. she doesn’t know how much of today will make it into the first episode of the show, or how much of their previous round of auditions will either, but it’s a question long forgotten in the back of her mind when they announce the arrival of the judges. she expects it to be a group of known idols, seniors in the industry that are highly respected and regarded for their respective talents, like lc9 and myname members, or that phenomenal vocalist from she’z, but lo and behold, it’s another step up even from them as the ceos saunter in and suddenly siyeon thinks there’s no way I can do this and her palms begin to feel sweaty. 

this is so much pressure, she thinks, so much more than I expected. having to sing for a crowd so large already was enough to shake her a little bit, but she’d gotten over that with time. this, however, is an entirely different ball game— and she’d had no time to prepare for it. maybe if she’d known the ceos would be here, she’d have practised harder, brought something more extravagant to the game. they’ve seen countless talents in their lifetimes, what makes her think they’ll even bat an eyelash at her? 

but she’s here now and she’s worked so hard for it. she’s spent more hours than she has fingers and toes three times over readying herself for this moment — for being called down to sing and to show them what she’s capable of and hopefully, what she could be capable of in their experienced hands. she sucks in a deep breath. she has until she hears her name to centre herself and thankfully, with a hundred contestants, there’s plenty of time to get there. 

( and of course psych herself back out again, and then up again, then out, then up— and so forth. ) 

by the time she is called, she isn’t really sure what she’s feeling. it’s numb, surreal, and she thinks she’s probably going to trip on her way there just to ice that sweet, sweet carrot cake, but soon she’s standing before five of the most influential people in the industry and her palms are sweaty and her feet fidgeting and she’s bowing ninety degrees for a little too long. 

“I’m park siyeon and I’ll be singing fly by jiu.” she barely has time to shuffle her weight about to loosen herself up before the backing track is starting. 

it’s softer, already more subtle than the pop genre original, but siyeon honestly likes both reasonably equally. despite her usual affinity for acoustic tracks, she appreciates the harmonies and positive vibe of the first iteration of the song. after all, it’s a song about self love and that’s always best expressed through a happier beat, she thinks. but this version, the one she starts a few seconds in, comes from a different place. it might not entirely be something that’s overly important to her, to her own growth, but she knows confidence, spreading your wings, believing in yourself— they’re things so many people struggle with and if she can touch anyone with this deeper, more emotional rendition, then she’ll consider it a success. 

she does have to actually make it through the next two minutes first, though. 

invisible 안갯속에 나를 찾아야만 해 yeah 작은 불빛 그 희망은 상상만으로도 you’ll find

for the first verse and pre-chorus, her voice is much more gentle in tone. it’s akin to her audition, a little too breathy in places and a little too powerful in others as she moves into the chorus in due time. when she watches clips of these shows, so many contestants close their eyes, look as if they’re totally submerged in the moment but siyeon smiles, clicks along to the beat with a bit of bounce in her body. she wants to look relaxed, like she’s having fun ( and isn’t, instead, screaming for basically two minutes in her head not to forget the lyrics or mess up; no biggie ). of course, it means she probably looks like she’s trying too hard, but she’d rather appear nervous but trying than too dramatic, than emotionless or dry. delivery is just as important as actual talent, right? or maybe that’s just what she’s telling herself as she fails to see how else she might stand even a fraction of a chance against the other performers she’s seen thus far. 

높은 곳을 향해 손을 뻗어 볼 때 닿을 것만 같은 느낌 바라왔던 날들 가까워진 걸까 저 하늘에 그려져

just spread your wings 저 끝까지 가슴 뛰는 소릴 따라 두 눈을 감고 꿈을 펼쳐봐 you’re a hero, you can fly you can fly, oh, yeah, oh

the belted notes of the chorus are a contrast to what she’d handled in her audition. she doesn’t want to fall flat, so she always ends up putting a little too much gut into them, a little too much effort. on their own, they sound great. on their own, the softer verses sound great. together, her song is a little disjointed, her transitions between each unpolished but the potential is there. she lacks a little of the control they so likely desire, but it shows in her adlibs that she’s capable of it — if only she were to know what she was doing, if only she had someone to guide her along the way. 

though, again, maybe that’s just what she’s telling herself to plough through the worry that she’s already messing everything up. is there a world record for fastest mga audition to go wrong? at least she could stand a chance at that if all else fails. 

단 한 번도 보지 못한 세상이 펼쳐질 거야 구름 위로 날아올라 ‘cause your wings are made to fly

somehow, with the blink of an eye, she’s at the second verse and generously more than half way through her performance. she mellows back down to her quieter tone, though her bright smile doesn’t falter. she can’t let herself slip now; she’s made it this far and she’s determined to make it to the end. she’s no longer nervous about singing for the sheer number of people here, nor the ceos, instead a little elated despite other worries that she’d had the honour at all. after all, she can barely begin to imagine how many people auditioned and yet, here she is, one of the hundred the roster was whittled down to. that has to mean something, right? potential ( as a trainee or just as entertainment on the show, she doesn’t want to think too hard about ) shown, possibly, or even just to help buffer up their favourites for the show ( by comparison, she’s sure they’d look much more impressive ) but whatever it is, she’s here and she intends to savour every moment of it. 

due to the layering of the original, there’s a lot that’s missed in this subdued, single vocalist version. for that reason, she has to skip the first half of the opening line of the pre-chorus this time around, her voice projecting clearly with the run from the end of the verse. she’d practised it especially hard, recording herself to see how it sounded. she’d wanted them to think she’s professional, serious about this— isn’t fancy vocal tricks the way to do that? thankfully, she’s not able to overdo it, so it’s still quite tame as she executes a pretty adlib or two throughout. she wishes she could sing right through to the very last beat, show them how sweet her voice is in the slightly higher bridge, but her time is coming to an end. 

손을 뻗어 볼 때 닿을 것만 같은 느낌 바라왔던 날들 가까워진 걸까 저 하늘에 그려져

it’s not the most natural finish to a performance, but she does her best to fade out as the instrumental behind her does the same. the harsh cuts of her audition song had put her off, so she’d asked for help this time making sure she wouldn’t be remembered for making ninety-nine contestants and the five ceos jump out their seats at the sudden melody. 

when she’s done, satisfied, she bows once more and makes her way back to her seat. her heart’s thumping aggressively in her chest and the contestants sitting around her offer her encouraging smiles as she makes her way back over. her fingers shake against her thighs but she’s done and now it’s just a waiting game. a really horribly painful waiting game. 

#rkmga5 #rkmga5callback #* solo! #* mga5! #( wc; 2069 ) #( pls click the song link; you won't regret it!! )

[falseroar]

Broken Memories Part 16: Silent Scream

((Before we start, here’s a link to the last part, Part 15: Cup of Tea. I know the timing’s a little off with the references to PAX and everything since that’s over now, but I still wanted to include them.))

Dark leaned back in his chair, staring at nothing in particular. Not that there was much to stare at beyond the edge of this imitation of his desk aside from the darkness that surrounded him, but for a moment he could see his office again, his real office. He knew the moment you entered the room, he’d used Celine’s old crystal ball to watch as Abe and Mark went through his belongings while you and Wilford looked on, his fury growing with every passing second.

Not about the intrusion or the papers taken, although that was an insult he had no plans to forget. No, there was nothing in those papers that could help them, and the longer they spent chasing rabbit trails, the easier this would be. The problem was that they just wouldn’t forget you.

Every time, every time it just kept coming back. He should have had you crawling to him for help days ago, the minute Wilford forgot your name and that Detective scoffed at the idea of making some district attorney his partner. But then he just had to have that picture of you in his wallet, and Wilford—

Well, planning around Wilford was like trying to plan around a hurricane, but the others should have been easy. The Chef and the Butler barely took any effort, but even Tyler had remembered you when he finally saw you.

Dark could make them all forget time and time again, but it was becoming clear that he needed something more to get the point across to you.

He spread out the tarot cards on his desk, careful not to disturb the workings he had set up from Celine’s little bag of tricks, and picked out the Fool card to study it.

Mark. Even now he was trying so hard to find a way to fix this, to keep in touch with the others to make sure they remembered, to keep your hopes up. Sure that if he just kept you close, then he couldn’t possibly forget like the others. He had been holding out for far longer than Dark would have thought possible, but it was still almost funny how wrong a person could be.

Dark’s aura, almost completely red now, spread up from his fingertips to envelop the card as though it had just been set on fire. He smiled to himself as he focused his power and waited for just the right moment to make you see just how much you needed him.

 ---

After your talk with Wilford and a walk outside, you made your way back up to your room. It was still early, but by the sound of it more of the egos were up and moving around the house. You assumed that it was one of them whose voice you heard as you neared the top of the stairs, until you heard Amy’s voice as well.

“Why would you not go? You can’t just back out on everybody, and we were already planning on taking them—”

“I can’t risk it.” You recognized it as Mark’s voice before you rounded the corner and spotted both of them standing alone in the hall, just outside of the Host’s room. “Amy, I think it happened again yesterday. They haven’t said anything, but I’ve talked to the doctors and—”

He stopped as Amy gave him a look and turned around. Judging by the way they were both looking at you, you guessed that until now they both thought you were still asleep in your room.

Well, Mark had noticed your memory lapses. You thought about pretending like you hadn’t heard what they were saying, but then you came out with it and said, “Mark, if you need to go somewhere, go. I’ll be fine here with the egos.”

“I can’t do that!” Mark said. “PAX is all weekend, we’re going to be gone for days, what if something happens?”

“It’s just for a few days,” you said, wishing you didn’t have to be the one making this argument. You would have loved nothing more to go to PAX with them, but Mark was right. What if you just blanked out in the middle of the convention center? Woke up somewhere else, no idea where everyone else was? It wasn’t like they could just keep you locked away in the hotel room or put you on a toddler leash.

“A few days ago, you were okay and our only problem was a broken-down old van,” Mark pointed out. “A lot can happen.”

“You have a phone, we can always call you. Plus, Marvin is getting better with the whole teleporting thing, he can bring you back here in a second if he needs to,” you said.

Mark grimaced at the idea, but Amy told him, “Mark, you have to make up your mind eventually. The others are going to be here soon, and we were all going to drive up together.”

“It doesn’t really start until tomorrow, so maybe I could…” Mark groaned and covered his eyes, trying to think.

“Others?” you asked.

“Jack wanted to drop by and see his egos before he left,” Amy said. “He’s going to be busy with PAX stuff and another show before he flies home, so it might be a while before he has time to see them again.”

Which meant if you weren’t going with them, this might be your last chance to see Jack and Robin before they left too.

The thought made the reunion later bittersweet, although you couldn’t help but smile when all of the Septic egos piled on Jack the second he stepped through the door in a loud, rowdy mass that dragged Ethan, Robin, and even you into it before they allowed everybody in. Some of the Iplier egos, like Silver Shepherd and Bing, joined you all in the living room where they all tried to fill Jack and the others in on what they had been up to while they were here, and Jack shared some of the projects he’d worked on while he was in LA.

While Jackieboy and Silver told everyone about their mission from the other night (which seemed to have gained a few more bad guys and clever one-liners since they told it to you), you noticed the way Mark watched Jack with his egos. To you he almost looked, well, jealous of how easily they seemed to get along.

You thought about how it wasn’t that long ago that Mark avoided being in the same building as his own egos. Sure, he was still uncomfortable around Google and a couple of the others, but compared to back then? He would have laughed at the idea of staying overnight here and you couldn’t see him just playing a friendly game with Bing and Chase or helping the Jims with editing like he had yesterday.

When Mark stood up and said something about getting a drink from the kitchen, you followed him with the idea of telling him just that. Inside the kitchen, there was a noticeable lack of hazard signs or suspicious goo, and it looked like someone had mopped the floor and cleaned the counters since the last time you were here. The chainsaw flamethrower was sitting on the counter though, looking like an accident waiting to happen.

“Hey Mark?” you said.

Mark jumped back from the open door of the fridge and spun around to stare at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…” You trailed off as you realized that wasn’t just a normal “didn’t know you were there” kind of reaction.

No.

“Who are you?”

The question hit you so hard you felt it in your chest.

This can’t be happening.

You barely felt Amy’s hand on your arm as she came up behind you, a comforting squeeze as she said, “Mark, this is Y/N. You know them.”

Mark looked at you again, but there was still nothing there. You tried to speak, to say something, but you couldn’t do this. Not with him.

Amy let you go, saying she would talk to him, but you were already out of the room and making your way up the stairs. Down in the living room, Robin looked around at the sound of your footsteps but got just a glimpse of you out in the hall.

“Huh, I wonder where Y/N is going,” he said.

“Be nice if they were packing to come with us,” Ethan said and Jack nodded.

Silver surprised the others when he looked around and then asked, “Who’s Y/N?”

You paused at the second floor and made the split second decision to go that way, but when you turned the corner you were stopped by two egos, Bim Trimmer and Ed Edgar.

“Whoa there, pardner, where do you think you’re going?” Ed asked, catching you before you could run into them.

“I…” You hadn’t been thinking about going anywhere. “To see the Host, I need to talk to him.”

“Huh,” Bim said. “That’s strange, the Host doesn’t normally get visitors.”

“…Visitors?”

“Bein’ of the gentlemanly sort, I can show you the way,” Ed offered. “Say, how do you feel about babies?”

Bim saw your horrified expression and practically facepalmed. “Ed, we’ve talked about this, you can’t just start a sales pitch like that, you need to establish a connection first. Like I do with contestants and some of the less disposable interns. Speaking of, there’s an opening if you—”

He stopped when he realized that you were gone and Ed snorted and said, “Right, ‘connection.’ Way to ruin the conversation.”

You heard the two of them bickering as you ran up the stairs to the third floor.

“Do you think when Mark forgets you, those worthless copies will too?”

The breath caught hard in your throat when you recalled Dark’s words and you dove through the first door you came to on the third floor. There were glass walls on either side of the conference room, but you didn’t care who saw you anymore as you sank into the nearest chair and buried your head in your arms.

The large flat screen TV on the wall turned on by itself and filled with static. The buzz of the static filled the room before it slowly filtered away, the static forming into the image of Dark although the occasional line ran across the screen like it was an old VHS recording. On the screen he seemed even less stable than he did in person, with multiple red, blue, and green afterimages just slightly out of sync with his movements as he straightened his collar and then clasped his hands behind his back.

“Such a shame,” he said, noticing the small pause in your shaking shoulders at the sound of his voice before another sob made its way out. “How the people we care about the most can hurt us so much.”

He paused, waiting for a response, but none came.

“Take your time,” Dark said softly, his voice reverberating on itself. “You have plenty of it. After all, no one is looking for you.”

You still didn’t look up.

“Of course, you already know there’s a way to stop this,” Dark said. “It’s your choice. Fade, or let me help you.”

“Choice?”

Dark seemed visibly surprised by the tone of your voice, and he stared as you stood up and faced him, not even bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“What choice? I didn’t get to choose any of this! You stole my body and locked me away in a mirror for years! Mark didn’t ask me before he took that piece of the mirror and look what that did to me! The only choice I had was to break that mirror before you let me go back in there again for who knows how long, and now…I didn’t choose this, to have my own friends not even know who I am! And you know what’s worse? As much as it hurts when they forget me, I know it’s the same for them when I look them in the eye and have no clue who they are, and it just keeps happening and I-I can’t--”

You stopped as another choking sob came out. You didn’t even care that Dark could see you crying, and your tears kept you from seeing the very real confusion on his face as the image on the screen stuttered.

Dark stared at you, his mind working quickly. Something was wrong, very wrong. His workings had been designed to affect the memories of those from the party, the people who he associated most with those cards of Celine’s. You losing your memory was never part of the plan. He wanted desperation, to cut you off from the others so he could turn that on them later. He wanted his District Attorney, not that silent echo from a year ago.

“Y/N,” he said softly, and then louder as you turned away to leave, but you were stopped as you walked into the arms of someone else.

You blinked and Jameson Jackson came into focus, his face full of concern as he handed you an embroidered handkerchief and pulled you into a silent hug.

“It’s okay,” his speech slide said, rubbing your back with his hand as the tears started again. “I’m here.”

Over your shoulder, he made eye contact with Dark and reached down with his other hand to pull something out of his pocket that caught the light. It was a strange shape, flat one side and jagged on the other. The moment Dark recognized it as a piece of a mirror, the mirror, Anti winked and the audio cut out on the TV.

Dark’s image screamed silently as “Jameson” continued to comfort you, letting you lean into his hug for as long as you needed before leading you out of the room. At the door, you both seemed to glitch for a second before you disappeared, with no sign of either of you on the other side of the glass wall. Dark screamed again, the blue and red of his aura lashing out until the static reached a fever pitch, causing the screen to crack and go dark.

In his prison of darkness, the aura did not stop there and continued to rage, knocking over the desk and scattering Celine’s trinkets as it threatened to break through into Wilford’s reality. Anti, that glitch had used him, let him make the others forget all about you, let him get you to this point while nudging you that much farther along, and he had a piece of the mirror—

“I know, I know!” Dark said as his aura became washed in blue, his voice resonating in the darkness around him as if multiple voices were speaking at once to someone else as he promised, “We will get them back.”

He would make Anti pay over and over in increasingly creative ways for going back on their deal before he could do it first, for taking something that belonged to him, his District Attorney, and for forcing Dark to this point.

Dark looked down at the heap of cards and found the one that always reminded him of Wilford. Or rather, of the Colonel. Then, he prepared himself for the agony of acknowledging that he needed help.

((End of Part 16. Thank you for reading! ...Probably a bad idea to point out to Dark that he forgot to include Y/N on that list when Anti asked for a puppet, huh?

Link to Part 17: Enjoy the Show.

Tagging: @silver-owl413  @determinedrevolutionary @cherrybomb-jaguar @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior  @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl  @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette  @geekymushroom @cactipresident ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfic #wkm y/n #wkm mark #peebles #darkiplier #not #jameson jackson #anti #puppet #broken memories #nearing the end

[aatgm]

Part 4

we’re getting to the good stuff!! (warning: there’s descriptions of gore/body horror in this one) 

Part One    Part Two    Part Three 

Some time passed. Ava worked up the nerve to return to the living room with two porcelain mugs full of freshly brewed green tea. The man on the couch was sitting quietly and expectantly when she returned, as if he had never made any kind of terrifying scene at all. He looked confused when she held his cup out to him, as if he didn’t know what to do with it, but when she sat down and took a sip from hers, he did the same. Only a little tea ended up on the cushions.  

“So.” Ava’s eyes were squeezed shut, her brows knit together, trying to ignore the slurping sounds. “You’re trying to tell me you’re not human.”

“Yes! What exactly is so hard to understand?” The man gave an exasperated groan through the upturned brim of his cup. He’d already drained it- Ava guessed she had been right in thinking he’d been dehydrated. “That was delicious, by the way. What was it?”

“Just green tea,” Ava said, flushing uncomfortably. “I made it from a packet, it really didn’t involve any kind of talent on my part, but-”

“I have no idea what that means. Anyway,” the man cut her off. “I come from another world, one more vast and ancient than a human could ever understand. I am a member of a species leagues beyond your own, a creature of primordial power and turmoil…”

“What’s your name?”

“What?” The man stared at her, seemingly stunned that she’d dared to interrupt him.

“Your name, man. Mine’s Ava. Avalina. Everyone calls me Ava for short. What’s yours? Assuming your vast and primordial species has names.”

“Simon,” he said, so quickly he himself seemed caught by surprise.

Ava glanced at the tv. The contestant was being chewed out by a judge with the name “Simon” engraved on his nameplate in big block letters.

“Mhm,” she said. “That’s a pretty vast and primordial name, alright.”

“No!” he shouted. “That’s not my… that’s not what I said! I said…” his brow wrinkled into a furrow of concentration. “Sie… Zi… Siea….”

He roared in frustration. “I can’t pronounce it with this human mouth! It comes out wrong… it’s not… whatever I said! It’s…”

Ava raised her eyebrows. The guy looked close to breaking down- his whole face was turning red. He was straining his face muscles as if fighting some invisible force.

“Hey, dude, it’s okay,” she said, standing up. “Simon works for now, right? We can sort out the… human mouth problem later. Don’t hurt yourself.”

He stopped and seemed to relax a little. “Well… it’s not anywhere near as majestic and terrifying as my true name, but it’s better than nothing.”

“So… Simon,” Ava said. “I have a lot of questions for you.”

“Oh, by all means. I’m not surprised, after all I’ve said already. This all must be very confusing, but I’m glad to enlighten you on the state of the world as you’ve never known it before-”

“What exactly are you saying you are?” Ava cut him off again. She wasn’t in the mood for the showboating he was trying to do.

“What- oh. Ah, yes, that’s right! I didn’t even mention!” The guy who was apparently for the time being going to go by Simon stood up from the couch. He stumbled a bit, but caught himself and tried to turn the movement into a bow.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a demon.”

They both stood there in silence for what felt like a full minute.

“…Well!” Ava managed to chirp out. “Why don’t I make us some breakfast! You… clearly need… that is, we could both use some food!”

With that, she vanished up the stairs, practically leaving a dust cloud behind her.

 Ava stood hidden at the top corner of the staircase. She put her hands on her forehead and gripped it, trying to keep it from splitting open. He was insane. She had let a crazy person into her house. What had she been thinking?! What part of her could have ever possibly thought this was a good idea?!

She had to get him to the hospital. That much was obvious. She had to get him out of here and take him someplace he’d be safe. Someplace far, far away from here. But she had to do it without him thinking she didn’t believe him. She didn’t know what he’d do if really confronted, to her or to himself. He’d obviously been through something terrible, this was clearly some kind of coping mechanism, he’d been running all that way in that torn up, bloody suit…

Ava realized he was still wearing that suit. He’d been in it all night, she thought guiltily. It couldn’t be comfortable. He needed clean clothes. She nodded. Clean clothes. She could do that. That was a task she could accomplish. That would take her mind off all this bullshit.

She went to her closet and shifted through the back hangers, producing a white collared shirt and some black jeans. After some consideration, she rooted through the bottom of the closet and found an unopened pack of briefs. She wouldn’t be surprised at all if he needed them.

She took a moment to change out of her pajamas herself- she hadn’t even taken the time to put on clothes before she’d raced downstairs. It couldn’t hurt to look presentable for this. Just as she emerged from her room, feeling slightly less rattled, she heard a loud crunching noise from downstairs.

She raced down the stairs and almost dropped the clothes when she saw the source of the sound. Simon was sitting on the couch, leaning over the table and eating his mug. There was a huge bite taken out of the rim, and she could hear his teeth grinding through a mouthful of porcelain.

Ava’s mouth opened and closed several times before she found her voice. “What… what are you doing?” she practically shrieked.

Simon looked up. “Oh, you changed your outer layer!” he said through a mouthful, white dust trickling out through his teeth. “Are those pieces of cloth for me?”

Ava looked down at the clothes she was holding and back up at the maniac eating dining utensils on her couch. She shook her head and set them down on the table. That was NOT what should be occupying her attention at the moment.

“Why are you eating it?!” she shouted, pointing at the brutalized mug. Simon was still crunching away at it. The handle had almost disappeared. He stared at her, confused. Then he bit into the mug again.

“Bitch!! Stop!” Ava was full on screaming by now. “Spit it out!!!”

Simon just stared at her. Very deliberately, he swallowed.

“You-! What the FUCK!!!” Ava screamed.

“Don’t give me food if you don’t want me to eat it,” he said indignantly.

“THAT WASN’T FOOD!!!”

Simon looked down at the remains of the mug again. “Oh,” he said, sounding a bit disappointed but otherwise completely nonchalant. “Shame. It has a great texture.”

“We’re going to a doctor,” Ava shouted, reaching out to grab his arm. “You need to get your, your stomach pumped, or your fucking teeth replaced, or-”

“What- no!” Simon jumped back. His face had gone white with sudden terror. “You’re not taking me anywhere! No human settlements, no human records, they’ll FIND me!!”

“WHO??”

“The ANGELS!!” Simon shrieked.

Ava stopped in her tracks for about two seconds. Then she rolled her eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, we’re still doing this, huh?”

“Doing what?! The only thing I’m doing is BEING IN MORTAL DANGER!! I’ve been here too long, I need to keep moving before the angels find me. They have eyes everywhere-”

“THERE ARE NO ANGELS,” Ava shouted in frustration. “Whatever, whoever is chasing you, it is NOT a damn angel!”

Simon fell silent and stared at her with an expression that suggested he’d never even considered a person could be so stupid.

“Look,” Ava said, feeling a bit bad for breaking down the guy’s fantasy. “I can tell you’ve been through a lot. I know you’re freaked out. I would be too! But trust me, whatever’s going on here, there is a logical, earthly explanation. Angels and demons aren’t real, alright?”

Simon just continued staring at her. “I don’t believe it,” he finally said. “Is total ignorance a universal human trait, or are you just special?”

“Look, buddy-”

“I know it’s been a while, but surely you’ve retained SOMETHING… surely you couldn’t be so entirely ungrateful as to have completely FORGOTTEN!” He stood up in indignation, stumbling a little but grabbing the arm of the couch to steady himself. “Surely, they left you all SOMETHING, didn’t they?”

“What are you talking about?!” Ava snapped. She could feel her patience ebbing away. “You’re not making any sense!”

Simon slapped his forehead and opened his mouth, no doubt to shout something else utterly incomprehensible. Then he stopped himself. He looked down at his hands; for a brief moment, something like sorrow crossed his face. Then he looked back up at her with a slightly more patient expression.

“Watch me,” he said simply, and closed his eyes.

He sat back down on the couch, crossed his legs one over the other, folded his hands on his lap, and began breathing deeply. He was perfectly still for almost a minute. Ava considered whether she should do something.

She stopped in her tracks. There was a crackling sound, like bones.

Simon’s shoulders hunched forward. Ava heard tendons cracking and snapping as his head sank down to meet his hands. With an awful crunch, the back of his ruined suit ripped along the seam as some formless thing pressed out from inside his body. The bones of his back creaked and separated as whatever it was pressed outward.

With a wet snap, his back split open. A thin spray of blood spread across the room as a huge, hideous thing, something that looked like a goat skull with a thin layer of grayish skin stretched over it and hundreds of thin, backward-facing horns, emerged from his ruined back, mouth open and full of dog-like teeth. The entire rest of his body folded away from it like a discarded mascot costume, as the skull was followed by hideously long, spindly arms and hands that ended in claws as long as pencils. The thing just kept coming, arms followed by a torso, followed by legs, until the horrible blood-soaked thing towered all the way to the ceiling. It sat in the remains of what had once been a human body, now turned inside out, stuck to it like a half-peeled wrapper. It looked down at Ava, moving its horrible, skeletal head to set its bulging, wild, ancient eyes on hers.

Ava stared. Then she screamed.

The horrible thing that must have been Simon seemed taken aback by this. It opened its teeth-brimming mouth to say something, but it came out in a bubbling mess of vowels and low hisses that seemed to burn Ava’s ears as it reached them. She stumbled backwards, still screaming, her mind a jumbled mess of half-formed thoughts. She turned and raced for the door. As she went, she thought she saw the thing move toward her, half-stumbling on the fleshy mass that had once been its body. She grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open, racing out into the field.

#authorpost #avalina and the grave misunderstanding #original fiction #authors on tumblr #the actual book

[buzzworddotie]

YAY Clear Pee! RDPR S10E11

Disclaimer, I feel like I’ve been writing this post for the past 10,000 years because the lovely Tumblr app keeps crashing every damn time I get my shit together! Out with the laptop and on with the show...

Episode 11 of Dr.Rupaul

To Rucap, Season 10 kicked off with one of the most interesting cast of Queens we’ve had in a long time! A cast of brilliant and interesting contestants, Ru seemed to be back in the groove, those first few episode were EVERYTHING! But when we started to whittle away those lovable Drag stars, shenanigans and tomfoolery took over and here we are, Episode 11.

Let’s take a second to see how this goes

So this episode the Top 5 Queens had to personify their “Evil Twin”, kind of but not really. What they really had to do was delve into the darkness of their subconscious minds, tap into their psychological scars and unearth their inner demons as part of a super fun reality TV show!

I get the reasoning behind this one on paper. Give the inner saboteur, that Ru consistently tells us about, a voice - confront it. Allow yourself to be vulnerable, because apparently vulnerability is : 1. About hating yourself and 2. is what it takes to win the show!

But sweet baby Jebus, was this really the time or place? When the Queens are probably the most stressed out they have ever been, minus who knows how much sleep? If the challenge had been to look at it in a fun way, take the piss a bit maybe it would have felt a little less... triggering! But Ru was pushing these girls with some armchair psychology and it didn’t exactly scream “this is a fun moment!”

You really need to hate yourself, and I’m gunna tell you why 

What was slightly off putting about this episode, for me at least, was the Ru visits in the workroom. He pushed the Queens to go deep into his psychosis. When he spoke to Queens such as Aquaria or Kameron, he refused to accept how deep they were willing to go.

Ru is great, I love Ru. Without Ru I wouldn’t have a show to give out about! I love What’s the Tee, there are times when I find the things Ru says to be inspirational and offer a chance for introspection that I may not have considered before. I have been in deep levels of anxiety and depression and have found Ru, and this show to be such a help in picking myself back up again.

BUT, and it’s a big butt, in those moments Ru has been relaying a story about his own life and how he got himself through it. The issue for me in this episode was that he didn’t really do that here, he didn’t offer the Queens something to relate to. Instead he told the girls how he believed they should feel and how ‘evil’ their inner voice should be.

Should is a dangerous word. No one can ever tell you how you should feel, what you should think, should do. 

So in the end, in a challenge where they wanted to see the Queens let go and stop producing themselves, Ru took hold of the puppet strings and tried to produce these girls himself.

Source

What’s Even Happening?

Something that has confused me throughout this season is what exactly the judges are looking for. When we got to the runway, Kameron was read for her looks being too similar, Cracker for the looks not being similar enough, Eureka received praise for the looks being similar... 

What even was the criteria? Was performance ke? Was it about the voice over? In which case why was Asia not the winner and why didn’t Cracker get stronger praise? Was the look all that mattered? Was it about having comedy or about being as harsh as they could be? Did the looks matter? Was it supposed to be about making looks? Why did Ru ask them all if they were making a look if it didn’t matter? What is going on in here on this day?!

Let’s get Eval

In terms of the runway, I thought Kameron was going to get the classic read from Michelle, “How are you going to stand out here, Top 5 of RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 10 in a bra with a piece of fabric wrapped around your waist?!” 

She got read for the look a bit but I was surprised we didn’t see Michelle go full Visage on her ass. Kameron’s evil performance seemed to, from memory, focus mainly on more aesthetic self-reads, which I don’t think was key to the challenge.

Cracker’s first look was adorable and had she had the time to put together the second, we all know it would have worked, we’ve seen Instagram. But I have to wonder, would that have saved her from the bottom 2? Because Cracker was pretty fucking mean to herself in the voice over, deep cuts. That she is unoriginal, that she coasts to the middle. So would an outfit that worked combined with that have kept her safe, or kept her in the competition - who knows? 

Eureka’s voice over to me read more of the few things she knows she has been called out for, being loud, attention seeking and it didn’t really feel like an introspective moment. She did have a couple of things but she played up a character and maybe that means vulnerability?

Aquaria looked stunning. She really, really did. I loved her performance, personally, it was drama mawma, but did it meet the criteria of the challenge?

Surely Asia really ticked the boxes? She bared her insecurities and did it with two great looks. I’d argue Asia had the most “evil” looking twin of all of them.

Celebrate Mediocrity... 

It’s strange to see Eureka sail by and Kameron stay. I like Kameron and I’m mostly fine with Eureka but neither has blown me away, ever. Well, to be fair, I have on numerous occasions enjoyed their performances but overall I didn’t feel like these two were top, top Queens.

Cracker’s run confuses me most. From the off, Cracker was in the Top consistently. She had interactions with Ru and the judges that I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Queen have before, the banter and the back and forth. And if Review with a Jew is correct, there is footage on the cutting room floor of far more interactions that we never got to see,

Does this tinfoil hat make my ass look big?

I think Miz Cracker was screwed as soon as she didn’t go in for the Cracker vs Aquaria storyline. This may be a total reach but I felt like the show wanted to push that, it’s a reality TV show, they need drama, they need to be able to create characters and Cracker was not having it. Cracker never really took the bait, Eureka tried to stir it with Aquaria in the first episode and it almost worked as Aquaria had a moan but The Vixen stepped in and blew it all up when she tried to get Aquaria to face it head on.

But ultimately, this potential feud was not in Cracker’s favour, she didn’t want to be known as some copycat Queen. So does that mean Cracker gave us nothing? Well, not exactly, as I mentioned she had more interactions with the judges than we ever got to see, she was in the Top consistently and never got the reward, unjustly at times. She also had fun moments with Monet that again, we never got to see. Without a back story how would a casual viewer know that Monet and Cracker were so close? Why did we not get to see any of that? Is it because people complained with Season 9 being so sisterly? 

If anything Asia convinced me more that Cracker was actually doing well this season. I know she has gotten heat over what was an unfair comment but look at the context. During her voice over performance, Asia’s inner saboteur says “This is Cracker’s season”, surely she would say that because as far as any of them could see, without the edit, Cracker was nailing the competition. 

Asia saying she didn’t think Cracker was a star... Well girl, I love you, but after you said it was her season to win and then that I think there was a lie there somewhere. And I think the lie was when she said she wasn’t going to call out her top competition like Kameron did. I think Asia did do that and in that moment Asia acted as Cracker’s inner saboteur.

It was not a nice thing to say but it contradicts what I felt she really thought.

Who can say? I think in this challenge Cracker was bottom two. But I think her fall from grace is something that hasn’t made sense to me. Maybe on rewatch it will but I’m not buying it. She refused to play the game they wanted, she refused to give the growth they wanted, she didn’t do what they thought she should do. 

And she was right not to.  

The Top 4

Against all known Drag Race tradition, being bottom 2 three times, giving the same/similar performance each lip sync and a piece of fabric wrapped around your waist was enough to keep Kameron in the race.

Sometimes you wonder if the purpose of the show is now to create a great cast for All Stars as opposed to celebrating the more interesting girls during their season.

But, we have our Top 4. And I’d like to end on a positive note because I can sit here and type up my critique and honest opinions but I can’t do it without knowing in the back of my mind that there are “fans” out there who will verbally abuse and attack these Queens for doing little more than competing on a TV show.

Do I agree with every decision? Hell, no. But that’s part of the fun. We still get to discover these Queens we may not have heard about otherwise.

Kameron looked great, her make-up for the evil look was a fantastic, sexy tribal bitch and the Queen can bring it in her performances.

Next it’s time to see who makes it to the final and then we’re almost done gang. Another season of RuPaul’s Drag Race will be over.

Until next time x.

#RuPaul's Drag Race #drag queen #drag #Drag Race #evil twin #mizcracker #the vixen #Aquaria #eureka #Asia O'Hara #Kameron Michaels #Michelle Visage #rupaul #fashion #tv #vh1

[gleefuldarrencrissfan]

Chapters: 17/? Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Characters: Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Rachel Berry, Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman, Santana Lopez, Sue Sylvester, Brittany S. Pierce, Artie Abrams, Carmen Tibideaux, Jesse St. James, Quinn Fabray, Sam Evans, Mercedes Jones, Kitty Wilde, Sebastian Smythe, Jake Puckerman, Marley Rose, Ryder Lynn, Will Schuester, Emma Pillsbury, Coach Beiste Additional Tags: Competition, Reality TV, Alternate Universe, Eventual Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson & Sam Evans Friendship, Kurt Hummel & Rachel Berry friendship, Duet, Slow Burn Summary:

“Noah, take a seat,” Carmen ordered.

“I prefer Puck.”

“We don’t really care what you prefer,” Sue sneered.  “Do you want to tell us why you think you’re here today?”

“Because you want to tell me how much the viewers loved my badassness?” Puck replied with a small chuckle.

“Actually, it’s due to your inability to keep it in your pants,” Jesse retorted..

“Woah, what am I being accused of?” Puck inquired.

“Are you, the self-proclaimed ‘sex shark’, trying to claim that you haven’t slept with a contestant?” Sue taunted.

“No, I really haven’t yet,” Puck claimed.

“So it’s just a judge, then?”  Sue accused.

“W-what, Puck stammered?  

“Do you admit it, or do we have to bring out the evidence,” Sue threatened.

“What am I admitting to?”

“Let’s just say you are guilty of multiple infractions?” Carmen stated.

“Huh?”  Puck said, scratching his head.

“What she means is that you are in breach of your contract on multiple accounts,” Wesley stated.

“Just tell me straight what I supposedly did, dude.  I haven’t done anything inappropriate in the house.”  Puck huffed.

“Yes, technically, you didn’t do anything in the house, unless you count the pool house, which I had bugged, by the way,” Sue revealed with sly grin.  “So cut the bull, Mr. T, and admit what you did.”  

Puck gulped. “Well, Ms. July and I got a little wasted in the pool house a few times.  For such a little chick, she can hold her alcohol even better than me.  We played some drinking games, and I have to honestly say I don’t remember everything we did afterwards, except retching in the pool.  I did clean it afterwards though, free of charge,” he smirked.

“Mr. Puckerman, I’m afraid that won’t do you any good.  Although thank you for not leaving it in the pool.  Although, mightn’t it have been a good idea to clean up the pool house too?” Carmen asked.

“Uh, yeah, that might have been a better plan,” he admitted.  “So I’m getting booted over a few drinks and getting freaky with the hot judge?”

“Mr. Puckerman, we told you, we actually have some other infractions that could actually get you incarcerated,” Wes warned, “but we won’t press charges if you come clean about them all and leave quietly.  No one can know you made the show.  We are spinning it as if you were cut in the audition rounds.”

“Pressing charges for drinking and a couple of blow jobs?” Puck asked.  “Which of those is illegal?   I’m over 21.”

“You broke your contractual agreement of sobriety, not to mention using illegal substances.  Cannabis is illegal here.”

“Huh?”

“Pot, Puckerman,” Jesse answered.

“Oh, I thought it was legal here.  Mr….I mean, the person that sold it to me said that it was ok if it was medicinal.”

“Ignorance and stupidity is not a medical condition,” Sue snarked.  “And you are lucky we aren’t pressing charges.  We heard that you don’t do well locked up.”  Sue held up an envelope.  That scar on your nipple.  I can’t believe you had that thing put back in after those hoods ripped it out when you were in Juvie.  And now you need to spill the rest of your indiscretions.  What about the Prom Queen?”

“I didn’t have sex with her.  I wanted to, but that girl is uptight, although I don’t think I’m the only one on the chopping block if you really want to throw out anyone playing hide the sausage.”

“That is no concern to you, Mr. Puckerman.  You have committed multiple infractions, therefore, you are dismissed,” Madam Tibbideux explained.  “You need to collect your belongings and leave the premises immediately.”

“Wait, I’m off the show?”

“Yea, Mr. T, you are.  “Now, get the hell out of my office and the house.  You have five minutes before I allow Becky to get out the matches,” Sue warned.

“But wait, you guys were serious about all of that?  Like I said, I didn't actually tap that.  I mean she did play with my…”

“Mr. Puckerman, you are dismissed.  Good day to you, sir,” Carmen asserted.

“Alright, let’s go!”  Shannon barked, escorting him out of Sue’s office.  

“Man, this is bull!” he yelled,storming out of the office and nearly slamming into  Kurt.

“Puck, are you ok?” Kurt asked.

“I’m out man.  Hopefully, you and Curly bow tie boy didn’t do the dirty in the pool house.  She has it totally bugged, man.”

“Um, no.  I can’t say that I did,” Kurt answered.  “I’m not really sure why I’m here.”

“I don’t know, but apparently, I have 5 minutes to get my stuff out or Sue’s gonna burn it, so I gotta go.  Good luck man.”

Puck was being sent home?  Kurt’s mind began to race.  What if they regretted hiring him as a stylist?  What if they decided to send him home after the situation with Sebastian?  Kurt’s anxiety began to rush over him until he was a quivering bundle of nerves.  He just got back here, and he didn’t want to leave again.  

“Come in, Mr. Hummel,” Carmen summoned.

“Did I do something wrong?” The countertenor questioned

“No, we just wanted to inform you that you were an absolute hit on Twitter.  Audiences loved you.  And we haven’t really announced this to the other contestants yet, but unfortunately, we dismissed Mr. Puckerman due to breach of contract.  That leaves his spot vacant, that is, unless you would like to rejoin the contestants on the show.”

“Really?  I’m back on the show?”  Kurt gushed. His nerves instantly relaxed, and he sat down calmly in an empty chair.  

“Well, Mr. Hummel, audiences were impressed with your talent and your personality.  And the other contestants love you.  We hated that you left the show, and honestly, you would be helping us out so that we have even numbers again.  What do you say?” Carmen asked.

“Yes, absolutely!” Kurt smiled.  “I’d love to.”

“Now, before we make it official, we have to have you look back over the contract again.  We are very serious with all of the stipulations that you agreed to.  So before you accept, we need to address the allegations of a possible relationship with Elliott Gilbert,” Wes stated.

“We’re just friends,” the brunette answered.   “Then, how do you explain this,” Sue asked, turning around the monitor of the PC screen.  It was a very clear photo of the kiss between himself and Elliott.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Kurt started to explain.

“Really, because it looks like you and Glitter Rock are playing tonsil hockey,” Sue taunted.

“He kissed me, but it was because he was trying to get a guy to leave me alone.  He thought if he claimed to be my boyfriend, the other guy would back off.   Besides, Mr. Thompson informed me that dating a crew member was not against the rules.  However, I’m not nor will I see a co-worker.”

“Very well, Mr. Hummel.  Well, we need you to read back over the contract and give us an answer as quickly as possible.  If we extended this to you, could you commit to it?” Carmen asked.

“I think so, but I would like to run it by my dad.  I’d be leaving him again.  And I really don’t think I could abide by the family contact clause.  I really would need to check in with him daily.”

“Done.  We installed computers and set up email accounts.  We could make an exception so that you could email your father daily to check in for peace of mind.  Any other concerns?” Madam Tibbideaux asked.

“Mr. Smythe,” Kurt answered.  

“I’m sorry, but he’s a contestant too, and so far, he hasn’t broken his contract.  For this next performance, we will pair you with Puckerman’s partner, Finn Hudson.  Is that ok?  I know that puts you at a slight disadvantage, but we will help you in any way possible.”Carmen assured him with a soft smile.

“No, that’s fine.  Finn is a great guy, and I think we’ll sound amazing together,” Kurt smiled.

“Very good then.  As for Mr. Smythe, we can try to make sure that you two don’t room together or get paired for a duet, but that’s the best we can do,” Carmen sympathized.  “Although, we are confident that you can handle him.  I heard he’s been a lot more corrigible since the little incident, ” she smiled knowingly.

“Yeah, it was pretty unfortunate.  Red definitely wasn’t his color,” he chuckled nervously.

“No it wasn’t,” Carmen smiled.  “Welcome back, Mr. Hummell.

“Come on in, and take a seat,” Carmen told the blonde.  “We need to have a serious talk.”  The dancer looked around, and seeing Wes Montgomery, one of the show’s attorney’s,she hesitated to sit.  “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, but we need to discuss your contract with the show.  You have been in breach of your contract several times, and we have decided that you are no longer a fit for this production,” Mr. Figgins explained calmly.

“Excuse me?  I’m being fired!  she screamed.  “How dare you?  Over what?”

“Ms. July.  We ask you to hold your temper,” Wes advised.  “You know that there have been several incidences, and lately, you haven’t really been executing your duties with the professionalism that you are required to exhibit as a judge on this show.  You have arrived late, clearly intoxicated.”

“What I do on my own time is my own business,” Cassie objected angrily.  “I have a life, and I’m not a contestant.  I didn’t have to sign a contract about my use of substances.  I’m of legal age to drink.”

“Yes, but marijuana is still illegal.  Not to mention, we have reason to believe that you have been not only smoking it, but you have also been behaving inappropriately with a contestant.”

She walked right over to Sue and stuck her finger directly in her face.  “Excuse me!  How dare you accuse me of such nonsense,” she warned.  Ms. July’s face was bright red with rage as she, for a moment,  took her hands and started pushing things off of Mr. Figgin’s desk.  A cell phone hit the ground.  

Sue slapped her finger away from her nose.  “Watch it Roxie!  You might want to pick that up and push play,” Sue said.  “I’d say the nonsense is what came out of your mouth.”

Cassie pushed play and listened.  The video was blurry, and you couldn’t actually see who was making the racket.  “Seriously, this is what you are using to prove this was me.  That doesn’t really sound like me.  You can’t prove that this is me at all.”

“Actually we can.  Mr. T squealed, kinda like you did in this video,” Sue smirked.

“It wasn’t me.” Cassie said, rolling her eyes.

“Then explain  why your hair was found in the poolhouse,” Sue chided.  

“Like I’m the only blonde,” she sneered.

“Yours is the longest and dirtiest,” Sue pointed out.  

“What about the dancer chick? Or the mouthy chick.  Or the Prom Queen.  They are all blondes.

Sue leaned over and snatched a strand of hair from Cassie’s head.  “None of their hair samples match this one, Sue cackled, tossing the baggie on the table.  “Seriously, what were you thinking?  Sleeping with a contestant!”

“You still don’t have proof that we actually slept together,” Cassie argued.

“No, and we don’t need it because just you fraternizing with him and using illegal substances is enough to terminate you,” Mr. Figgins explained.  “Ms. July, you need to remove your personal effects and leave the premises immediately.”

“Whatever, I hated this gig anyway,” she huffed, rolling her eyes and slamming the door behind her.

“Well, that actually went better than I would have imagined,” Carmen commented.  “I know she has a history of lashing out.  Do you have a replacement in mind?  The live shows start next week.”

“Yeah, we are looking at a few, but actually we thought we might try a celebrity judge or two,” Mr. Figgins commented.  “With your contacts, I know that you could help us find a few people.”

“I know quite a few celebrities as well.  I once shot a video of ‘Physical’ right along with the original Ms. Olivia Newton John,” Sue gloated.  “Not to mention, I personally know Michael Bolton.”

“Great,” Carmen commented.  “So are we ready to make the adjustments for the show tonight?” Carmen asked.

“I think we have it covered.”

“Wait right here!” Shannon barked.  “And no funny business!”

“The two blondes shook a little at her order.”

“What’s going on? the blonde girl asked.

“Do you think they know.  I mean, Puck is packin’ right now.  I can’t believe he’s leaving.  The show didn’t even officially start, and they just sent him home.  I mean, I know that he was rough around the edges, but he was a good guy,” Sam said.  

The skinny blonde nodded.  “He is, surprisingly, Quinn admitted.  “I mean, he was a total player though.  Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Guppy mouth, Feberge’, get your butts in here.  You want to explain this?”  Sue held up the baggie.  “At first, I thought the Prom Queen and Geronimo were knocking boots, but we found this long blonde hair in the bathroom.  No big deal.  The same girl lost a couple strands of hair, except that they don’t come from the same head,  DNA doesn’t lie.  So why would your hair be found together, on the same towel.  

“Sam loaned me his towel after I got out of the hot tub.  He was about to get in, but I forgot my towel so he lent me his.  My back was hurting due to my injury, and his muscles were sore from overdoing it in dance rehearsal.  He was being sweet,” Quinn explained quickly.

“Oh, well that makes sense,” Sue said.  “So you just gave him the towel to use after you dried off you drenched hair.”

“Well, I’m sure that the steam from the hot tub dried that towel right up.  I offered to bring him another, but he’s such a gentlemen.  He told me that he would just use that one so I didn’t have to go get from from the dryer,” Quinn explained.

“And the sore muscles and back pain, that’s what all the moans and giggles were about, right?”  Sue inquired.

“Exactly, Sam grinned.  “She gave me a shoulder rub.”

“And what else did she rub while you were in the hottub together?”  Sue asked slyly.

Sam frowned.  “Nothing.”

“So you didn’t have sex?”

“Of course not,” Quinn answered with a smile.

‘Very good, Queenie.  I almost believed your little act of innocence, that is, if we didn’t have audio of your squeaky little voices on the camera.  And here you were badmouthing Stegasaurus Head for being a manwhore when you were doing the dirty with his friend.

“Ms. Sylvester, we really didn’t sleep together,” Sam reiterated what Quinn had said earlier.  

“And you expect me to digest that steaming pile of horse poo you just tried to shovel down my throat.  Seriously?”

“Yes, we do.”  Quinn answered.

“And why would I?”  Sue questioned.

“Because Quinn is a tease,” Sam blurted.  “And I’m not a manwhore.  

“So much for being a gentleman, Sam,” Quinn accused, rolling her eyes.

“Well, what else do I call it?  All you ever let us do was make out.  I could barely touch you,” Sam replied.

“Whatever, Sam.  Mrs. Sylvester, you aren’t really going to toss us over this?  Seriously?” Quinn asked.

“No, but don’t think that  just because you two didn’t actually do the nasty, you get to get off scott free?”

“You’re going to kick us out?” Sam asked, frowning.

“No, but only because you both were too pathetic to actually get down and dirty, but mark my words, there will come a time I may need your assistance, which I will expect your total allegiance, unless you want this released,” Sue warned.  As she was talking to them, her foot grabbed Quinn’s purse strap and casually pulled it under her desk so that the blonde didn’t see it.  

“Meaning?” asked Sam.

“I’m doing you a favor.  I may need you to do one for me,” she smiled slyly.  “This is a warning.  If it happens again, you are out on your ass.  Clear?”

Sam nodded.  Quinn stared at her stoned faced.  

“Now, get the hell out of my office,” Sue roared.

Sam turned quickly to head for the door.  He motioned for Quinn to go first, and he exited behind her closely.

“That was close!” Sam sighed.

“She’s not going to kick us out.  They wouldn’t have enough people for the show,” Quinn reasoned.  “She’s just trying to intimidate us.”

“I can do intimidations.  Alright, alright, alright.  Let’s go play the bongos with our shirts off,” he smirked, trying to sound like Matthew Mcconaughey.  

“Uh, really Sam?  That’s what you say immediately after we about get kicked off of the show?” Quinn said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, Barbie, get your butt back in here.  You forgot something?”  Becky screamed.

“Oh, I forgot my purse.  Go on without me Sam,” She assured him.

Quinn walked right in grinning slying, not waiting for Becky to see her in.  “So what did you want that you couldn’t say in front of Sam?”

“Q, you’re smart, but you underestimate me.  I know you and Beiber hair didn’t have sex, but I know you aren’t as innocent as you claim to be.  Actually, from what I understand you were a grade A bitch in school, just like one Sue sylvester.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Quinn remarked.

“Oh, no dear, you are just like me, in that we both use our beauty and intelligence to get what we want.  And you have something I want.”

“And what makes you think you can manipulate me?” Quinn challenged, her hands on her hips.

“How old is Beth now?” Sue questioned, tossing a file folder on the table.

“How did you know about Beth?”

“I told you.  I know how to get what I want.  I also know that you don’t necessarily care about winning this.  You just want to get back at your ex, and you wanted to make a name for yourself.  Which won’t happen if you get eliminated now?’

“What do you want?” Quinn asked through gritted teeth.

Sue tossed a cell phone on the table.  “Put it on silent.  If it vibrates, you answer it.”  

“Alright contestants.   Round two of the Twitter-off is about to commence.  Before this airs, we know that you are fully aware that Mr. Puckerman is no longer a contestant on the show,” Carmen stated.  “Please heed the example and make sure that you are abiding by all of the terms in your contract.  That being said, it left us with a vacancy, so without further ado, we would like to welcome back Mr. Hummel.”

Kurt stepped into the room, smiling directly at Blaine.  

“Frankenteen, Kurt will take Smuckerman’s place in your duet,” Jesse snickered.  “I hope that your song calls for Alvin, Simon, and Theodore.”

“Um, we were doing ‘We Will Rock You.’  Is that in your wheelhouse?” Finn asked Kurt nervously.

“I actually have a pretty wide range.  It extends almost 3 octaves, so I think our ranges are similar.  I actually have an idea that I think will work,” Kurt smiled.  

“Cool dude,” Finn smirked, stepforward to fistbump Kurt.

“Alright, moving on.  Our live show airs soon.  We have some changes we would like to discuss.  We have also decided that Sue will stay on the judging panel with  Mr. St. James and I,” Carmen explained.  “However, we have excused Ms. July  from the judging panel due to some issues that we will not discuss.  We have decided, instead of hiring a new judge, we will have guest celebrity judges each week.  And regarding the vacated stylist job, Mr. Hummel has agreed to help you with your look as much as he can, but we have given his clients out to his assistant, Chandler.  If there are no questions, we will move on,” remarked Carmen.

“Why did Puck leave?” asked Brittany.  

“We aren’t going to go into details, but he was in violation of his contract.  That’s all I’m going to disclose.  Any other questions not pertaining to the departures of Ms. July or Mr. Puckerman?” Carmen asked.

Nobody uttered a word.  “Very well.  Moving on to the show tonight.  The pace of the show is a little slower, so you should have a little time to type out more this time than last.  Please remember the guidelines about acceptable tweets, as opposed to inappropriate comments.  If you have any hateful or inappropriate comments directed at you, do not take the bait and alert us immediately.  Do not tweet that you made the show until we reveal it at the end of the show.  And you don’t have to answer every tweet.  If they ask personal questions, you may answer at your discretion, but we do have your profile pages going up tomorrow, so you can direct them to check that out tomorrow.”

“Alright, we have to excuse ourselves but our tech guru and his assistant is back to help you again,” Jesse added.

Jacob walked into the room, his eyes focused on Rachel.  He waved tentatively.  “Alright, everybody.  We have 12 laptops, so we will have to disperse them to the girls first, because their footage is first.   After your footage is over, you might want to pass it on.  A few of the guys that tweeted from the crew and band are here once again to tweet to keep the audience in suspense until the last moment, so make sure that you don’t reveal anything about any of the current contestants until it has been announced if someone made the show or not.  Regarding Noah Puckerman, he composed a tweet before he left, which Lauren will post  for him.  No one else is to tweet about his departure.  Understood?”  The contestants nodded, and the laptops were dispersed among the girls.  

Dueling Duets- Rachel Berry:

Hello again.  My performance is coming up, so I wanted to let you know that I was already here, ready to chat.  

Dueling Duets- Rachel Berry:

I bet that you are curious about what I chose to sing.

-SantanaLopez reply @ Rachel Berry:

And I’ll take that bet that most people don’t care.

Pendleton reply @ Santana Lopez:

I don’t.  I’m here for all of the hotties.

-GerberbabyHarmony reply @ Santana Lopez:

Yeah!  Bring on the cutie with the triangle eyebrows and the cute bowties

-Skank Shelia reply @ Santana Lopez:

and the hottie with the auburn hair and blue, green, gray eyes.

--Skank Ronnie reply @ Skank Shelia:

Both gay!  Remember!

--Skank Shelia reply @ Skank Ronnie:

Yeah, whatever! They are probably just saying that so that we won’t hassle them.  

Dueling Duets- Rachel Berry:

Kurt was my roommate.  Trust me.  It’s not a put on.  He’s perfect gold star gay.  

-LittleSunShine reply@  Rachel Berry:

Well, shoot.  

Dueling Duets- Tina Cohen Chang:

Sorry ladies.  They both said they were gay to me.  But I get it.  I thought they were both attractive too.  

--LittleSunshine reply @ Tina Cohen Chang:

I bet they’d make a cute couple.  They are so adorable!

--GerberBabyHarmony reply @ LittleSunshine:

I’d ship them.  Awwww!

--AdamsApple reply @ GerberBabyHarmony:

It is my recollection from last night’s tweets  that contestants can’t date one another.  Pity!

--LittleSunshine reply @ LittleSunshine:

Well, shoot!  :-(  Both such cuties.  

--AdamsApple reply @ GerberBabyHarmony:

I’d have to disagree.  Kurt is gorgeous!  The other one looks a little too much like a pigmy for my taste.

Pendleton reply @ AdamsApple:

Gel-ous much!  Get it, because of all of the gel.  :-)

Dueling Duets- Rachel Berry:

Anyways, back to the performances.  Though I have to say my performance of “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” was unmatched.

Mercedes Jones reply @ Rachel Berry:

Oh, Hell to the No girl.   Let the tweeters decided.  

-- BeatricefutureDuetsStar@ Mercedes Jones:

Your performance on last night’s show was amazing.  I can’t wait to see what song you do.

-- BeatricefutureDuetsStar@ Mercedes Jones:

I want to be on the show so bad.   I practiced all summer long.  I didn’t make it past the first round.

-- BeatricefutureDuetsStar@ Mercedes Jones:

Any advice?

Mercedes Jones reply @ BeatriceFutureDuetsStar:

Practice everyday.  Join a glee club or choir and surround yourself with other passionate people.

--Rachel Berry reply @ BeatriceFutureDuetsStar:

I agree with Mercedes.  Pick a few great songs, and practice, practice, practice.

Rachel Berry reply @ BeatriceFutureDuetsStar:

-- I used to post performances on Myspace and Youtube.

--Mercedes Jones reply @ Rachel Berry:

She wasn’t asking you.

Dueling Duets- Mercedes Jones:

However, Rachel isn’t wrong.  It’s important to have some great songs in your wheelhouse.  

Dueling Duets- Mercedes Jones:

-That’s why I picked Ain’t No Way by my idol, Aretha Franklin for this final performance.

-LittleSunShine reply@  Mercedes Jones:

You sound incredible.  I bet you would sound great on Beyonce songs too.  

Kurt sat quietly on the couch and watched some of the tweets shoot across the screen.   He was so caught up in the show, that he didn’t even realize that someone had sat down right beside him.  “Hey Kurt,” the dark haired boy said as he patted Kurt’s knee.

“Oh hey, Kurt squealed a little louder than he meant.  

“I heard the exciting news.  You’re back on the show.  That’s great!  I missed you so much!” Blaine smiled, engulfing Kurt in a hug.

“I missed you too.  I’m excited,” Kurt squeaked.  ”Although I am a little worried about the duet.  Finn is great, but I’m no rock and roller.

“I beg to differ.  You were quite the rock star the other night,” Elliott responded, walking over to Kurt.

“Hey Elliott,” Blaine smiled.  “What’s this about Rockstar Kurt?”

“Oh, Kurt and I did a duet the other night.  A song called Rockstar.  And Kurt was fantastic.”

“But of course he was.  Kurt is fabulous.  Although, I’ve never heard him sing a rock song before.  I’m kinda jealous,” Blaine pouted.

“Oh, I think everyone was jealous, after he swung around that pole like that,” Sugar blurted, pulling out her phone.  “It was pretty hot!”

Blaine cocked his eyebrows.  “Wait, what?”

“For real, Ladylips?” asked Santana, nearly dropping the Laptop., “You on a stripper pole?  I didn’t know you had it in you.  You just gave off this baby penguin vibe.”

“No baby penguin here, honey.    Just look at this hotness!”  Unique said, scrolling through each picture on Sugar’s phone.   Apparently the idea of Kurt getting his stripper act on was more intriguing than the show, and Jacob had to tell the girls to focus.

“Oops, I gotta tweet, baby.  There’s just a few more if you just want to hand Sugar her phone back when you are done.

“Damn, Kurt!”  Blaine chuckled.   “I thought you said you were uncomfortable with sexy.  You certainly have me fooled,” Blaine chuckled nervously as he scrolled through the pictures of the sweet, innocent boy that he was crushing on so much.  Although in those pictures, there was nothing angelic at all.  They was absolutely sinful.    Damn those photos.  Blaine crossed his legs trying once again to conceal his lust for the now blushing boy beside him.  He noted how Elliott was even more flirty toward him than usual.  He tried to shrug it off.  Elliott flirted with everyone, right?  

That was, until he scrolled to the final picture.  Without saying a word, Blaine sat the phone on the couch arm, stood up, and walked out of the room.  

“I wonder what that was about? He seemed upset.” Elliott chuckled, until he lifted the phone and saw what had caused the reaction.  “Um Kurt, did you look at the final photo?” Elliott asked nervously.

“No, why?” Kurt answered, but he didn’t need an answer.  On the screen in front of him was a photo of he and Elliott, lips interlocked in a searing kiss.  The phone slipped out of Kurt’s hand as a look of sheer panic spread across his face.

“Crap!  Blaine!” Kurt called.  “Blaine wait!” He yelled, running after him.  

#klaine fanfiction #glee fanfiction

[lovemesomesurveys]

5,000 questions survey series--part thirty-nine

3701. If you HAD to do your holiday shopping for EVERYONE in only ONE store what store would you pick? That would be hard. Can I cheat and just say online? ha.

3702. What's more annoying: the person in front of you driving ten miles under the speed limit on a regular day OR a person who cuts you off doing 10 miles over the speed limit on a stormy day The person who cuts me off on a stormy day because that could be dangerous.

3703. Define the word TIME without using the word time in the definition. A continuous span of progression. haha. That probably makes zero sense.

3704. What old cartoons do you remmeber watching? Stuff on Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network, Disney, PBS, Kids’ WB, and cartoons that aired on ABC and FOX in the 90s.

3705. Do you think that people care only about the people they know personally or do most people care about all people I wouldn’t say they only care about the people they know personally. Most people care about others and their general wellbeing unless they’re completely heartless, but it’s different for people you know and love versus strangers,  you know? 

Why do you think people feel that wway? I mean, you’re going to care more about people you know and love because you know and love them? It hits closer to home.

3706. Are you more like Brak Zorak or Space ghost and why Oh, those characters from that old Cartoon Network show? I remember seeing it sometimes, but was never really into it. It came on late at night, and as a kid sometimes I’d be up late cause I couldn’t sleep or didn’t feel well and that’d be like the only thing on besides informercials. 

3707. Would you rather see the movie first and then read the book or read the book and then see the movie? I’ve done both.

3708. Do you own any audio books? Nope.

What?

3709. Why are things the way they are? Good question.

3710. Do you believe that guns don't kill people and that people kill people? I mean, someone has to pull the trigger.

why?

3711. What is the best way you can think of to prevent murder? Not commit murder? :X  ha. I really don’t know. There’s some psychotic people who will always find a way.

3712. Why is it that in the USA thousands of people are murdered with a gun each year while in Canada only a handful of people are murdered with a gun each year Sources?

Sure sounds like the USA is doing something wrong, but what?

3713. Is there a difference between really being yourself and just being automatic and acting on whims? Uhhhh.

What?

I’m not sure how to answer this. 3714. Have you ever strolled through a graveyard? During the day.

In the dark? Noo.

3715. What is the difference between a good poem and a bad one? That’s subjective. I like good poems I relate to and that “speak” to me, but if a poem doesn’t do that for me it doesn’t mean it’s bad. To each their own.

3716. Who really cares about anything? I think a lot of people care about a lot of things.

Do you? Yeah. Some things maybe too much, others not enough.

Do you let it show, all the time? Depends what the thing is that I care about.

3717. Do you live with passion? :/

3718. Do you talk to squirrels? ...No.

3719. Do you kick up leaves? No.

3720. Whuch do you need more: sugar, caffiene, alcohol, drugs, sex, sleep? I’m picking two: caffeine and sleep.

3721. What images do you get from the phrase 'human subway'? For some awful, disgusting reason my mind went to the human centipede. *BARF*

3722. Joe Strummer died. Are you sad? I don’t know who that is.

Do you have a fond memory of him to share?

3723. If you are a guy are circumcised?

If you are a girl which do you prefer circumcised or not?

3724. Does it bother you that in the USA you will be tracked based on what web sites you visit, what online purchases you make and your email will be read by the government? I see where it can be helpful, but yeah it’s not fun having your privacy invaded and people all up in your business.

3725. Have you ever checked out the online personals? The what?

3726. What do you crave? Good health.

3727. On a scale of 1-10 how tough are you? 0. 

3728. On a scale of 1-10 how tender are you? 10.

3729. On a scale of 1-10 how good are you? Uhh.

3730. On a scale of 1-10 how evil are you? I think negatively and badly of myself, but I don’t think I’m evil

.3731. What would make a cool coffee table book? *shrug*

3732. What's the most interesting conversation piece in your home? *shrug*

3733. If you could get on the mall loud speaker on christmas eve you would say, “Attention holiday shoppers: Be kind to the employees and fellow customers, please.” It gets crazy during the holidays.

3734. What are you on the outside of looking into? Life.

3735. Are you more of a peculiar purple pie man or a sour grape? What.

3736. Who is someone you know should deserve more respect? My mom.

3737. Does the end ever justify violence as a means? Only in certain situations.

If yes, when? Like for self-defense.

3738. Care about everything, or care about nothing? Which would be worse? Caring about nothing is worse cause then what’s the point?

3739. Why do so many people on the internet pretend to be pregnant? I didn’t know that was a big thing. 

3740. Have you ever been the diary Hicks or Brian (same guy, Hicks is the old diary, Brian is the current one)? ...What.

If yes, what are your thoughts?

3741. What was your new years like in (answer all that you can remember)

1970?

1980?

1990?

1995?

1998?

1999?

2000?

2001?

2002?

2003?

2004?

2005?

2006?

3742. You know the Def Leopard song, 'Love Bites'? Yeah.

Do they actually mean love bites as in it sucks, or lovebites as in hickies? I’m familiar with the song, but I’ve never given it a real listen where I thought about the lyrics and what it means.

3743. All you want for chrsitmas is: We’re only in May.

3744. If you rearrange the letters in SANTA what words can you make? Ant, sat, an, at, as, tan, ass, nat...

3745. Say anything: I’m tired.

3746. Can you feel your life ending one minute at a time? Uhh.

3747. Is there something you don't want to talk about? Yeah.

3748. What is the most offinsive thing you can think of to type here? Who do you think it would offend?

3749. Who would you stop the world and melt with? “I’d stop the world and melt with you..”

3750. Is there anyone you wish you had never known? No.

3751. Do you prefer to drive or be driven? I don’t drive, so.

massage or be massaged? Be massaged.

pamper or be pampered? Pamper.

go down or be gone down on?

3752. What do you think of the sims? I like it. I go through spurts where I’m obsessed and then don’t play at all for a long time.

3753. How about the Sims Online? I’ve never played it that way.

3754. Professional or home pedicure and why? Neither. 

3755. Is there a difference between over weight and over fat? They mean the same thing.

What?

3756. What do you think of Rush Limbaugh?

3757. Do you buy books and then never read them? No.

3758. What does OPP stand for? “Other people’s property”, but there’s been the argument that the last P stands for “p*ssy” according to the song.

3759. If you had to be a character from married with children, what would you be? I wouldn’t want to be any of them haha.

3760. What did you get for christmas? A new phone, clothes, makeup, stocking stuffer things. 

3761. What was your best ever valentine's day? I don’t have one that particularly stands out.

3762. What movie would you like to see again, that you haven't watched since you were a kid? Hmm. I don’t know.

3763. Have you seen Fantastic Planet? No.

3764. Do feet disgust you? Yes.

3765. What pain releaver do you use? A prescription pain med.

3766. Are you an artist, a designer or a doodler? I’m none of those things.

3767. Do you belong to a gym? No.

3768. Have you ever been to court? No.

Over what?

Did you win?

3769. Would you ever take a caase on court TV (Judge Judy and such)?? They’re entertaining to watch, but no. Omg Judge Judy would probably make me cry haha.

3770. You are given a million dollars, only you MUST spend it (or as much as possible) IN ONE MONTH. ANY LEFT OVER MONEY WILL GO AWAY. WHAT DO YOU BUY? New house for my family and I and vacations.

3771. What are your pj's like? I’m wearing leggings and a long sleeved shirt.

3772. Is there a fabric you love above all other fabrics? Soft kinds.

3773. Can you think of any words (besides mom, dad and bob) that spell the same thing backwards and forwards? Racecar.

3774. Who would enter an ugly foot contest???? I don’t know why someone would enter a contest like that. 

3775. Would you rather see a movie with someone who screams during the movie, crys through the movie, or talks theough the movie? What's the least annoying? Cries through the movie. 

3776. Do you have any grey hair? I found a couple strands before. D:

3777. Are all the Jennifers you know psychotic? I don’t know any Jennifer’s. 

3778. Do you want to join a country club? No.

3779. 'I felt a funeral in my brain' - Emily Dickinson

What do you feel in your brain? A jumbled mess.

3780. What is the best atari game you can remember? I’ve never played.

3781. Hulk Hogan, Alf or Mr T? “I pity the fool.”

3782. Did you dance today? No.

3783. Are birds happy in cages? They need to be able to fly.

Are pets happy indoors? Depends on the pet.

3784. Have you, or has anyone you know, ever been stuffed in a locker? No.

3785. Critique this poem.

Last night death signed my yearbook Have a good summer he said see ya next year and then I realized it wasn't my yearbook it was my tombstone

Ew, that creeped me out.

3786. Red or white wine? I don’t drink anymore, but I did like white zin back when I did. Red wine gave me a headache.

3787. Hula hoops or jump ropes? Neither.

3788. Do you like tiffany lights? Sure.

3789. Do you like fights? No.

3790. What do YOU want to pin the tail on? Nothing.

3791. Wasn't last night fun? Not really.

3792. Have you ever met a group of more interesting people? Yeah.

3793. Would you eat Spaghetti with waffles to keep from offending someone? Sure.

3794. Do you play with Mr Patatoe head? I did when I was a kid.

3795. Would you rather live in an attic or a basement? Basement.

3796. Can you understand sign language? No.

3797. Do you wear ridiculous hats? No. Just simple ones.

Does Elton John? Sure.

3798. What music is wild and crazy? EDM.

3799. How does one live their life like a candle in the wind? I don’t know.

3800. Ziggy and the Spiders or Benny and the Jets? B-b-b-benny and the Jetssssssss.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #5000 question survey

[fashiioned-blog]

What is the relationship like between Ron and Monique? The show often ignored their dynamic but I like the stuff you and booyahd-mun are doing and was wondering how you guys see them?

OKAY - well first - thank you sweet human! I can’t speak for Nikki - because I’m not Nikki. However, from what we’ve discussed and IC text-chatted about all come together to make a ‘brother from other parents.’ tbh. They first bond over GWA and an eating contest ( which we see in the episode Pain King v Cleopatra. ) After that we see them together in Partners - and they have other interactions together in the series but they’re limited. Why? Well, Monique was used as the female friend for Kim - and they just kinda stopped putting Monique and Ron together because - they wanted to focus on Ron and Kim and their relationship feelings developing. Their is a nice scene between them in Emotion Sickness - when Monique is the one who is like ‘ you like kim, bro.’ and again in season 4 - when she tells him about Valentines Day. But the show kinda left us a bit… sad when it comes to their friendship. 

However, Nikki and I do talk about their being plenty of eating contests, life lessons, advice sessions, insult matches, GWA watching and arguing, Netflix binge watching of TV shows such as Daredevil, Jessica Jones etc. They LOVE comics - honestly the biggest argument that has come up about comics is about BVS because Ron hates it and Monique thought it was alright. ALSO RON SCREAMED DOWN A THEATER DEMANDING HIS MONEY BACK - AND KIM, MONIQUE AND RUFUS JUDGED HIM SO MUCH OVER IT. They also just have eating contests which are probably all over twitter and instagram. Also, Ron has been invited to watch Wrestling with the Green’s and has been outscreamed in the PAIN / STEEL debate. Ron and Monique have a lot in common and just imagine them always talking about something and Kim is honestly confused. 

ALSO Monique is a member of the Ron Defense Squad. Don’t insult Ron. Kim and Monique gets to insult Ron - you don’t. I mean - their is also canon evidence for that. When Bonnie is insulting Ron, It’s Monique who tells Kim to stand by her Ron. it’s also Monique who says to ‘fudge it.’ so Ron feels better. it’s also Monique who tries to get Ron and Kim together. It’s also Monique who mocks Bonnie for suggesting that Kim isn’t good enough without a boyfriend and going to prom with Ron isn’t a problem. Monique defends Ron a lot - sure sometimes, he’s a bit gross for her tastes - or he acts a bit odd. HOWEVER, she still clearly values him as a friend - and doesn’t give two shits. She understands he is Ron and loves him for it. Sure, she tries to change some of his habits - but she never suggests he is better when changed. She is also the ONLY ONE WHO TELLS KIM TO STOP WORRYING ABOUT BONNIE AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH RON. - bitch aint having it. S T A N D  B Y  Y O U R  R O N. HOWEVER, PAIN KING VS CLEOPATRA CLEARLY AIMED TO SET UP A FRIENDSHIP. KIM EVEN SAYS ‘THIS IS A START TO A WEIRD FRIENDSHIP.’ AND HONESTLY IT PAINS ME THEY NEVER REALLY USED THAT. ALSO DO NOT GET ME STARTED - DO NOT GET ME STARTED - ON THE CRAP THAT WAS MONIQUE - NOT GIVING TWO DAMN SHITS ABOUT RON WHEN HE LEAVES IN SITCH IN TIME. Actually - do that because I have my HEADCANON.  Monique is a very reserved person. She can hide her feelings very well - and so when Ron leaves - unlike Kim who is showing her sadness - Monique is hiding it. She has gotten used to hiding her feelings and has unfortuantly got used to people not being in her life anymore. So, she pretends like she is fine - but on the inside - pain. A bit off track - but monique loves ron. He is like another older sibling - even if he acts like he is five - and she acts like the older sibling. He is older by nearly two months after all. 

@booyahd  :  i told you . i had feels on this. 

#BOOYAHD #↜ ♥ ↝ ( done and dusted ┊ asks / answered ❯ #↜ ♥ ↝ ( observations ┊ important / meta ❯ #↜ ♥ ↝ ( you’ve reached the mun state your emergency? ┊ asks / ooc ❯