#can you tell what media ive been inspired by lately... can you guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

islandofsages · 2 months

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HEYY!! I love your writing from what i've read and i was wondering if i could ask for a gn reader (yuu) teaching the housewardens about like classic fandom lore- like imagine them turning into matpat to explain fnaf and undertale!! 😭😭 feel free to not do this and have a good day!! Thanks :D

characters: housewardens x gn!yuu

tags: platonic, fluff, crack kinda, imagines format

warnings: swearing

author's notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG also all the fandoms mentioned here are all fandoms ive been in at some point :D fun times mhm

Riddle Rosehearts

He knows you’re very passionate about fandom culture but you never really had the chance to infodump about it to him

Until one day, you drop by Heartslabyul for a leisurely visit, when you see a not-so-clearly distressed Riddle sitting in the lounge

Not-so-clearly meaning he’s holding a teacup in his hand yet not drinking it, eyes closed as if he’s holding in all his emotions

You grow worried at this sight and slide next to him on the couch where he is seated, hoping you can help alleviate some of that stress

He sees you and he allows himself a sigh, then musters up a smile for you. He greets you and you cut straight to the point - can you help him with anything?

He releases a second sigh and shakes his head, telling you he only needs some sort of distraction. He just had a long day and needs to take his mind off things

You take a second to think of things that you can distract him with – that’s when a lightbulb goes off in your head. This is a prime opportunity for you

“Okay, I’m guessing you haven’t heard of Five Nights at Freddy’s since it’s a franchise from my world and all but the lore is crazy. So it starts like this…”

He wasn’t expecting to be paying much attention to the contents of what you’re saying but sooner or later, he ends up leaning towards you with his hand cupping his chin, mouth slightly agape at the story you’re telling

This inspires you to dump even more information about the media somehow at the rate that you’re going

By the end of it, he’s completely forgotten what he was so worried about. His head is full of creepy pizzerias for kids and haunted animatronics

He ends up having some trouble sleeping that night though. He’ll get you for that later.

Leona Kingscholar

He won’t lie, your interest in fandoms is too reminiscent of Idia for him – he doesn’t admit this to you obviously, since he hasn’t had the chance to

But on one particularly boring day, you decide to skip class with him and he lets you tag along for the hell of it

In the span of three seconds, he’s already off in dreamland. Sometimes you wish you had such a skill

Since you have nothing better to do and he’s way too deep in his sleep to even care anyway, you start rambling to yourself and a slumbering Leona

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about Undertale lately so I need to dump it all somewhere. So basically you play as this kid…”

Little do you know halfway through his nap, he wakes up from how much you’re talking. At first, he’s annoyed by your yapping but then he grows interest in what you’re saying

He’s almost tempted to try that game for himself and almost disappointed that it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland. Emphasis on almost.

When you’re done rambling, that’s when he stretches his arms over his head and yawn, commenting how noisy you were

You shrug it off. You're used to him complaining about you yapping instead of napping alongside him

…But then he asks you to tell him more about Undertale, if there's any more information you’re keeping from him out of the kindness of your heart

You smile smugly at this and his expression seems to say “don't make me regret asking” but oh, you definitely will make him regret even being friends with you in the first place

Needless to say, regrets were not the only thing he held at the end of that day.

Azul Ashengrotto

Similar to Leona, your fixation on fandom culture reminds him too much of Idia. not that that’s necessarily a bad thing - it’s more of an observation

And he gets more than an observation when you get the chance to show him what you’re made of: useless fandom culture and gaming knowledge

Speaking of Idia, he goes to you as a last resort to ask you to help him understand whatever the hell Idia’s talking about

You don’t know too much about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture just yet but when Azul explains the premise of a certain game and its fandom, it gives you an idea

“Sounds pretty similar to Yandere Simulator. Ooh, that one has a lot of history. Let me tell you about it…”

Unfortunately for him, he ended up unlocking your geekiness instead of having you address the things he was confused with

But at least your story makes it a bit easier to understand? He’s yet to decide that really but at least it sounds like you’re taking his lack of slang knowledge into consideration

Your infodump really gripped his attention though - it’s interesting to know another side of human culture, even if it’s not the humans of Twisted Wonderland

He would nod understandingly (or at least, politely) and thank you and your geekiness

He relays your story to Idia and finds it intriguing how similar fandom culture is in both Twisted Wonderland and your world

He would invite you to Board Game Club meetings so that you can rave and find out more about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture with Idia

He’d realize that was a big mistake and he may or may not have created the nerdiest pair in the world - but you guys are his nerdiest pair in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s very curious about fandom culture - he doesn’t know too much about it nor anyone who knows a lot about it so almost all the fandom information in his head are from you

He really wants to know more!!! So of course that warrants a hangout session fabricated as a study session to get Jamil’s stamp of approval

So there you are in his room, books laid out in front of the two of you but most importantly, a laptop

You two watch about a dozen videos on Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture and as you absorb all the very-much-useful information, you sneak in tidbits from the culture of your world

“This one in particular is reminiscent of Danganronpa. Man, that one was a wild ride…”

It’s exciting to be able to talk about it with someone you trust wholeheartedly, especially Kalim, whom you know wouldn’t be so judging

He only nods in understanding at every point you made, his eyes sparkling with all the curiosity in his body

You were on your thirteenth video when you two are interrupted by a rap on the door and an unfortunately-familiar voice

So obviously you and your bestie hurriedly rush to close all the tabs on your laptop and open up something more academically-inclined

Which is obviously a…dictionary site

Jamil blinks twice at this, says nothing (but probably noting how it makes sense for you guys since you two are bumbling idiots) and walks away

If there’s any dictionary being read that day, it’d be a dictionary of fandom terminology, that’s for sure.

Vil Schoenheit

He doesn’t know too much about it - and doesn’t bother to learn much about it since he has better things to do - but since it’s you, he tries his best to be a good listener

The two of you sit down in the courtyard one day, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves music to your ears; beauty truly is everywhere around you when you’re next to him

He’s talking about something. You’re not sure what because you’re entranced by the way his hair hangs above his eyes so elegantly. He notices this and calls you out for it

You shrug and excuse how you can’t help it - he’s like a dating simulator love interest in the real. He asks you what you mean by this. Now’s your chance to shine!

“Hmm, you know, something like Mystic Messenger? Hehe, let me tell you a bit about it…”

Unluckily for him, your “a bit” turns out to be a four-hour long ramble about the aforementioned dating simulator a little too reminiscent of Rook for his liking too

Despite his reservations, he really did enjoy hearing you talk so passionately about your interest; it’s a bonus that the topic itself is interesting

He tells you he wouldn’t mind trying out the game or at least finding out more about it though unfortunately it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland

You share his shame - until he says he’ll pitch the concept of the game to some authorities he know and perhaps make it a reality

Sorry, he’s going to what now?

You’re a little shaken. Sometimes you forget he’s a world-class model, despite his looks and mannerisms. You save your nerves for if a Twisted Wonderland version of Mystic Messenger actually ends up happening

He thanks you for enlightening him about fandom and video gaming culture. You use this as a cue to add another four hours of ranting about V’s route in the game.

Idia Shroud

You’re another victim for him to taint… or so he thought. You’re more of an ally than a victim at this point, considering how nerdy you are

He’d dump fandom lore on you and you’d reciprocate it right back. He’s genuinely so impressed with your knowledge, even if they differ by some degree due to being from different worlds

He gets more impressed when you pull up with knowledge about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture like damn, you really brushed up on your talking points already

Friendly rivalry aside, he really does enjoy talking about fandom culture with you and hearing about the things from your world - every story you tell adds a little color into his world

One day, the two of you are leaning on each other, on your phones because of course you are, even if you two are friends, talking still isn’t Idia’s strong suit

That’s when you blurt it out–

“Hey, wanna hear about this game called Persona? It’s a turn-based RPG and…”

Regardless of his response to your question, you ended up babbling away either way. It’s how conversations start between the two of you

You’re speaking so fast, he would have mistaken you for a rapper - or a doppelganger of himself even

Consider him entertained - he finds himself smiling by the end of your yapping and intrigued by your story

He then obviously starts to relate it to something from Twisted Wonderland, passing the listener baton to you

You don’t mind – you can stay there for hours and hours, just going back and forth with your fellow nerdy-ass friend.

Malleus Draconia

This man barely knows how to use a smartphone so you had to be a little patient with him when guiding him through the fandom culture trenches

He’s happy that you trust and cherish him enough to talk about your interests with no reservations or shame – and the feeling is mutual

On a certain weekend, the two of you are hanging out as usual. Chatting as friends would do

You don’t know why but the conversation reminded you of a certain fandom

“It’s kinda like Genshin’s community, I guess. They’re a riot, let me tell you that.”

Oh? What’s a Genshin and why is its community a riot?

You’re glad he asked – because you’ve prepared a 100-slide presentation on the history of the game and its fans

He asks you why and how did you find the time to make that. You tell him to shut up and that it doesn’t matter, he just needs to listen to you

You start and it feels like you’ll never stop – there’s just so much to say and Malleus has so much time in the world

Seeing his reactions to certain events makes you crack up and at times, you’d laugh at his shocked expressions (or sigh exhaustively, depending on the event you’re explaining)

When you finally stop, he gives you a one-man standing ovation. You blush a little at the attention and unexpected reaction but you appreciate his sentiment nonetheless. He tells you that your presentation has been very informative for him

You’re relieved to have been able to get that off your chest… and Malleus is more than ecstatic to relay the information to everyone he’s ever known. You obviously pretend that you had no involvement in his sudden investment of a game from another world.

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theparanormalperiodical · 3 years

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Top 10 Controversial Horror Films That Are Famous For All The Wrong Reasons *gags* *cries*

At the beating heart of horror is offence.

From that undeniable sense of something not being quite right, to the CGI-blood-spurtin’-adrenaline-fuelled scenes that leave us shaking in our boots, horror pivots on the knife edge of controversy.

It’s used to drive plots. It’s used to drive hype. And at the end of the month, it drives studio executives to the bank.

Horror films can be traumatic enough. But there are some films that bear the cross of controversy more than others. There are some films that have been branded as so damaging to their potential viewers that merely circulating copies of the film is illegal.

And yet their infamy has forged cult viewership. What was once shielded from us has now become ‘must see’.

Today we are going to be counting down horror’s most controversial films and what made them quite so topical.

*I’m going to star the ones that you can actually watch without getting traumatised. Some are controversial not because of their content but because some religious or political groups disagreed with them*

#10 - The Blair Witch Project (1999)*

Let’s ease in with a classic - a classic you can watch without sleeping with the light on.

In this found-footage flick we see a team of film students as they explore a local urban legend. But what they find leads them to unknown and ungodly territory.

The problem with this film is that it was marketed as a true story. No, not based on a true story, a true story. Yep, they claimed what we were seeing was real, found footage of some teens going mad as they forage deeper into mysterious woods.

IMBd went so far as to report that the actors were dead. Then, the movie studio super-charged their efforts to confirm to the public that not only was this film 100% real, the three main actors were still missing. The parents of the actors then started receiving sympathy cards.

There’s even a mocked up website that perpetuates these claims.

#9 - Night Of The Living Dead (1968)*

Time for another not-too-disturbing film.

This is the original zombie apocalypse film saw a group of Americans attempt to survive an incoming attack of the undead while trapped in a rural farmhouse.

But the Motion Picture Association of America wasn’t too happy about it. The film rating system was yet to be in place, allowing children to also show up for an afternoon screening and be greeted by a 97 minute montage of extreme violence.

“The kids in the audience were stunned. There was almost complete silence. The movie had stopped being delightfully scary about halfway through, and had become unexpectedly terrifying. There was a little girl across the aisle from me, maybe nine years old, who was sitting very still in her seat and crying”

#8 - Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986)

In this psychological film, we watch a random crime spree take place at the hands of a couple serial killers. Loosely based on real murderers Henry Lee Lucas and Ottis Toole, its controversial reputation was founded on the gore ‘n’ guts screened in the movie.

Whilst it didn’t receive much attention from the public, various classification boards across the world ensured new versions edited with certain scenes - often involving sexual assault and necrophilia - removed for viewers.

In 2003, the BBFC (the UK classification board) finally allowed the uncut version to be released and Australia followed suit in 2005.

#7 - I Spit On Your Grave (1978)

It’s the original rape-revenge flick. And it managed to piss everyone off.

Originally titled Day of the Woman, it tells the story of a fiction writer who exacts revenge on a group of four men who gang rape her.

Despite its pro-women claim-to-fame, the 30 minute rape scene begs to differ. Furious debate surrounds its feminist label as a film that forces the audience to endure rape from a female perspective and long-winded violence against men (something which is often reserved for women in horror). Regardless, the graphic violence earned it a steady ban in Ireland, Norway, Iceland, and West Germany.

#6 - Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)*

You don’t get many controversial Christmas films. They typically stick to a cookie-cutter plot ‘n’ purpose every holiday season. But there are no strong women who need to rediscover the meaning of Christmas here.

Instead, we see a child traumatised by seeing his parents murdered on Christmas Eve go on a seasonal rampage as an adult.

A week after its release in the early 80s, it was pulled from theatres due to backlash. Marketing was focused on a Santa Claus killer with adverts often airing during family-friendly TV programmes and meant numerous children developed a phobia of Father Christmas. Large crowds protested cinemas with one notable protest involving angry families singing carols at the Interboro Quad Theater in The Bronx.

It was only in 2009 - 25 years after its original release - that a DVD of the film was first made available for purchase in the UK.

#5 - Psycho (1960)*

This legendary film follows the disappearance of a young woman after her encounter with a strange man called Norman Bates, one of horror’s most iconic figures. The controversy that would engulf this fim lay not in the violent attack on an innocent woman or even the disturbing content of the film.

Oh, no. It was because of what the leading lady was wearing.

In the opening scene of the film, we see Janet Leigh wearing nothing but a bra.

*gasp*

This racy attire was emblazoned across promotional material, meeting Hitchcock’s high standards of creating controversy around the movie. There was a no late admission policy for movie theaters, and the posters told viewers “Do not reveal the surprises!” to maintain a mysterious aura around the plot twist.

#4 - The Human Centipede (2009) (all of ‘em)

I’ve watched a lot of horror films, in case you couldn’t tell.

I’m used to watching a scary movie, shaking off the anxiety, and moving on with my life. But there are some that stayed with me. I only watched the trailer for the first movie, and it legitimately traumatised me. It gave me quite a severe, sudden bout of a depression for a solid month when I was 13.

Throughout horror’s goriest franchise, we see an evil doctor and amateur mad scientist attempt to sow several people together into a centipede-like chain from mouth to anus.

*retches*

At the heart of promoting the franchise was controversy. Tom Six, the director, forced a narrative that claimed from the first film that this was "100% medically accurate". He even alleged a Dutch doctor helped inspire the film, confirming that with an IV drip, this was entirely possible.

Although it didn’t receive furore that amounted to serious censorship or long-term banning, it was infamous for having its viewers vomiting in the cinema aisles.

The second film, however, was subject to much more severe controversy and could not legally be supplied in the UK until 2011 due to its heavy focus on sexual abuse, more graphic violence than the original film, and it’s pretty vile depiction of a murderer that was intellectually disabled.

Audiences were used to the graphic nature of the franchise by the third and final release. As the least-controversial and least-enjoyable film according to critics, it barely made a dent in the horror community.

Good riddance, I guess?

#3 - Faces Of Death (1978)

I’m not sure I’d recommend this one per se - but I will give it credit for being an interesting project.

This documentary-style film is a montage of footage of people dying in different ways. As a result of its very graphic and very real content, it was banned and censored in many countries. Only in 2003 was it released on DVD in the UK after a scene was cut featuring dogs fighting and a monkey being beaten to death.

Germany, Australia, and New Zealand followed suit, reversing their bans and releasing edited versions.

However, 7 years after its release, the media revamped its interest in the film after a maths teacher showed it to his class at a Californian high school. Two of his students claimed they were so traumatised they received a costly settlement to reimburse their emotional distress. Things took a darker turn a year later, when a 14 year old bludgeoned a classmate to death with a baseball bat; he claimed he wanted to see what it would be like to actually kill someone after watching Faces of Death.

#2 - Cannibal Holocaust (1980)

This Italian film’s title alone hints towards two frightening things: flesh-eating humans and genocide. In this found-footage movie we see an anthropologist lead a rescue team into the Amazon rainforest to find a group of filmmakers that went missing.

The rampant graphic content including sexual assault and animal cruelty showcased in the film (7 animals were killed during filming in some pretty horrific ways) led to it being banned in 50 countries.

Some also alleged that a handful of deaths seen in the film were real, as were the missing film crew. In fact, the actors portraying the documentarians signed contracts that stopped them appearing in motion pictures for an entire year to maintain the illusion of reality.

And only 10 days after its premiere, the director was charged with obscenity and the film confiscated. All copies were to be turned over to the authorities. There are currently a range of versions that have been edited to varying degrees and are allowed for circulation.

#1 - A Serbian Film (2010)

No.

Nope.

Don’t do it. Don’t watch this film.

A Serbian Film follows a retired porn star who agrees to feature in an “art film” for some cash. Little does he know this film will include rape, incest, pedophilia, necrophilia…

Just don’t watch it.

It is still banned in South Korea, New Zealand, Australia. It is supposedly a parody of politically correct films made in Serbia that are funded by foreign groups and allegedly speaks openly about post-war society and the struggle for survival.

*shakes head*

Off to have a 3 hour shower, brb.

If you, uhhh, liked this post please like and reblog.

And if you want to hear more about horror and the supernatural every week hit follow!

#horror #Horror Movies #horror films #best horror movies #scary movies #banned films #video nasty #a serbian film #human centipede #the blair witch project #cannibal holocaust #faces of death #banned movies #censorship #night of the living dea #controversy #controversial films

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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MONDAY, JANUARY 18TH: GOLDY'S LOG

I miss Suga. Scratch that. I miss Agust D. My spirit animal.

I've been thinking about him a lot lately, wondering if his injury isn't an exemption to military service. I wonder if he qualifies, in light of his injury, as an able body. I wonder what their law defines as able body.

I wonder if he passed the legal physical exam and health assessment test when he turned 19, since he's had that injury way before debut. Or if BTS have undergone that mandatory military service assessment since they are all past 19 and what their results are.

Jimin has chronic back pain too. That should qualify him for an exemption to military duty. He can still do desk work if it's that serious.

I should talk to ***** and look into South Korea's law on exemptions to military service.

Moon values the arts and culture industry. There's already been an extension for conscription for the benefit of BTS. Their success and longevity in the spot light perhaps influenced this decision. Should BTS maintain this momentum, an exemption would be inevitable I feel.

I miss them. They've been gone for too long. I'm worried about the impact this is going to have on their popularity if they disconnect from fans for so long or be mechanical about the way they connect with their fans.

I hate the limited access to them. But Scarcity increases the value of a product and it's not surprising if this is the approach BigHit is adopting in the wake of the pandemic.

Limited access not only raises value, it creates demand. Bang PD is a bigbrain marketing genius- I hate it.

They are taking a huge risk with this new marketing strategy. Personally, I'd stick to what works but then I am no marketing guru. Just a consumer who likes to play it safe. I guess I won't be getting hired anytime soon. Fuck.

It's all very fascinating.

What's equally fascinating is the shippers out here on these streets. The Jokers.

I... they confuse the hell out of me sometimes.

How are they going to question my rationality when I talk about moments I feel Jikook are having issues in their relationship or had broken up etc but then have no problem with and even applaud that same rationality when I talk about moments that has led me to believe there is lack of depth in Tae Kook's dynamics or that they are not real by any standard or that another ship in BTS isn't real.

Do I have two minds? Or are they more inclined to be selective in their beliefs based on their biases towards Jikook and against other ships? It's weird.

By the same lens I define Jikook as real, I define Tae Kook or any other ship that includes JK and Jimin as not real. And by that same lens if I feel Jikook aren't together then I'm wrong and irrational?

It really confounds me.

Not sure if they expect me to apply double standards to Jikook in those instances.

I don't think there is right and wrong opinions or perspective when it comes to shipping, but I think if they are right about me being wrong about my perspective on Jikook then I must be wrong about my perspective on any other ship in BTS as well.

I can't be right about one and wrong about another. I'm either right about all or wrong about all.

I can't be 'right' about Tae Kook having 'issues' in their bond in such a way I think it often bars them from fully nurturing their bond and developing depth to it but then be 'wrong' about Jikook also having issues that mess with their bond from time to time when it's the same measurement I use in accessing the depth of bond of both ships.

I really don't understand their way of thinking.

What is right and what is wrong and who decides on that?

I think we ought to substitute right and wrong with 'believe and believable.' The approach to such discourse should be about what one is willing to believe or not believe about certain discussions: I believe this. I don't believe that. Because believes stem from our personal biases towards a subject.

And the people that come running to me with 'look, Jikook smiled at each other in On era so change your mind'

I would except I hear this debate all the time. I wonder if they realize they sound exactly like the Tuktukkers in my DMs trying to convince me Tae Kook is real.

'Look Tae sat on JK's laps! How can you say there is no depth to Tae kook' ' He squished JK's cheeks' 'Jk said he wants to ride with Tae, if there was no depth why did he say he wanted to ride with him'

I have a feeling Soft Koo is back. The days of Terminator JK might be over. Too bad, I liked terminator JK. He was a bad ass.

I like that he is experimenting with his looks. But I'm glad his Ravi-esque phase is over. I wonder who he is drawing inspiration from this time. He reminds me of Jimin though. There is something peaceful and serene about his looks.

Can't really tell much because Bighit is sitting on tons of footages. I think I need to send a truck to Bang PD HQ.

I don't like that Jimin posted a Vhopemin photo for Tae's birthday. It was cute and all but I don't like it. That shit felt passive aggressive as fuxk. Lmho. What, he didn't have a V or Vmin photo in his gallery? Sounds like someone didn't put much effort in their VMin agenda for this post.

I wonder if he will keep the same energy come JK's birthday. I mean both him and Tae didn't post for him💀

May be I'm reaching on this one. But a single post where V was not even the focus of the post... I think his birthday means a lot to him and he enjoys when people shower him with love and attention and I don't think his birthday is an exception.

And he kept reiterating after such said birthday how he recently discovered he loves to be loved and how he does most of the things he does in order to be loved by his fans, friends and family.

And it breaks my heart that, the headlines read BTS shower X, Y with love on his birthday but the two people close to him were missing from that list this time. The media talks about BTS posting for eachother as them showering eachother with love. Certainly they all know this.

And the fact Jin posted for Tae after Tae's birthday says a lot about Tae and JK. Tae had no intention of posting perhaps because he left JM a message on the packages. With Jin I feel he was overcompensating for not posting for him on his birthday...

JK gets a pass. If JM wasn't happy about him not posting for his birthday, he would have pulled a Jin.

Jimin talking about coming to the realization he loves to be loved makes me think JK withholding his affections openly made him come to the realization he loves to be loved. Just a hunch. And the only reason JK would withhold his affections is if Jimin himself estopps him. Those two give me headaches.

I think I got the closure I needed from this.

LESSON: dont get on JM's bad side and bloody post for his birthday 💀

Tae been releasing photos of Jimin and Jhope a lot lately. Not sure how that makes me feel either. I think it's beautiful. But when I think about all these beautiful photos he has of Jimin on his phone and how generous he is with them- I think they would have been more meaningful had he released it on JM's birthday. The snow photo he posted still sits in my Vmin heart somewhere.

I really don't like this not posting for each other's birthday business. It's 2021. They need to cut it out.

I feel JK set a bad precedent but personal happiness first so good for him.

This moment haunts me for some reason.

What was going through V's head. I want to know. RM looks done. Lol.

Jimin is really beautiful. I love his eyes when he smiles and the thing he does with his shoulders.

Some people complain I write a lot. Some say I don't write enough. Ayayayai!!!!!!

What to do.

I think I accidentally deleted a post.

I'm looking forward to JKK1. Stay Gold, Still with you, Your eyes tell... I hope he hasn't given his best away cos those were bops.

PJM1... oh God I'm nervous. I'm excited for it but nervous. I think Serendipity is a classic. The Christmas song was equally great and frankly the only good Christmas Ive heard so far and I don't even like Christmas- nothing against Baby Jesus I just think it sucks. That bridge in Dis-ease is something.

I want to read his thoughts. His spotify playlist is insightful but I want to confirm if he really sees himself as a mess who is always causing his lover grief.

I mean he did say he has realized he needs to be considerate towards those that love him. Not sure yet the connection there.

I want to read his thoughts.

PJM1....

I love JHOPE. I think his ship with Jimin is beautiful and healing. They make my insides warm. Not sure if their shippers think they are real. Do they? That would be awkward.

I think RM and Jimin need to spend time together... it would be good for them.

Jimin and Sungwoon shippers are alleging Jimin has been staying with Sungwoon all this while. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

But the bit about him living with Sungwoon before the start of Bon V 4 has me🤔

Around that period, I don't believe JM was at the dorms and Jikook were not together then too. He must have been staying somewhere...

I'll let them have that.

But around November 2019 when he was having issues with JK he was staying with Tae too so no I don't think that means Sungwoon is queer or that Jimin is sleeping with him💀

They need to get out of their imaginations.

I think Jikook will drive me crazy one day.

I can feel my cranium swelling.

JiRose shippers need to pack it up. They really think Jimin is straight? 💀

It's the bad editing for me.

That doesn't look like a straight face to me. Unless his butt was on fire and he was uncomfortable looking at that black interviewer, I think that's his flirting face.

Lately I've been thinking about what ifs.

What if Jikook is not real?

I wish I believed that.

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eideticmemory · 4 years

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EVER SINCE NEW YORK IV | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic. Cover by @timey-wimey-lovi!

PART 4! Read Part 3 here!

SOUNDTRACK:

Let Me Know - Clear Eyes.

Friends - Ed Sheeran.

Perfect Places - Lorde.

Word Count: 4,551.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, drinking, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Fall, Junior Year.

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City.

“We’re going out tonight,” Claire said, plopping down on your bed.

“Oh? We are?” You replied, a notebook in your lap, and your back resting against the pillows.

“Yes. There is a welcome back party on campus tonight and we’re going.”

“I don’t feel like partying,” you sighed. “We just moved back in. There’s still so much left to do, to unpack.”

“Guess what? It’ll be here when we get back. And we’ll have all of tomorrow to decorate. But right now, we’re juniors, we’re thriving, and we’re gonna party!” She did a little dance, her red hair bouncing on her head.

You giggled, “Fine. Only until midnight! Then, we’re coming right back.”

“Geez, grandma? Midnight? Make it one!”

“Fine, one-thirty.”

“I’ll take it,” she smiled. She hopped out of bed, and turned on her heels, finger guns pointing at you. “Wear that red tube top. Step all the way out, kid. I mean it!”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

You wore the top. It looked good. Abnormally good. Insanely good. It hugged your body, and accented your breasts, little ruffles handing on the hem. You paired it with a loose pair of jeans, leather boots, and sparkly jewelry. Your hair was pulled out of your face and you applied light makeup.

“Yes, ma’am!” Claire cheered when she saw you. “For someone who didn’t wanna party, you sure snapped.”

“Hush,” you blushed. “I just wanna be prepared, y’know, in case we take pictures or run into people.”

Person. Singular.

You anticipated a high chance of seeing Matthew tonight, and if it was true, it would be your first time seeing each other in person in two months. After week upon week of late night phone calls — full of dirty words, quiet moans, and soft goodnight wishes. With his timezone being three hours behind yours, the two of you set alarms on your phone to talk in the early hours of the morning. Until you fell into this routine of talking every night. First, helping each other get off — sometimes more than once. And then having a sleepy, giggle-filled conversation about anything under the sun. It regularly lasted until one of you fell asleep.

So, yeah. You were eager to see him. Even more eager to get back to his place. Get back underneath him. It’d been a week since you last spoke, both of you being too busy moving back to New York. You ached for him dearly. And you wanted his first reaction to seeing you again to be lustful, intense. The outfit was perfect.

Claire and you walked across campus, arm in arm, skin glowing under the lights, hair blowing in the breeze. The music was palpable, and you could hear it from miles away. The two of you stepped into the dorming building, giggling at the sight of familiar faces, the smell of alcohol and weed, the sound of bass.

For most of the night it was easy to mingle. You carried a solo cup of alcohol from each room — vodka. Everytime you drank rum, you got horny. It was weird. You couldn’t turn a corner without bumping into someone you knew, be it a dancer, an actor, film student. Being a double major, and active on campus, you knew way too many people. And everyone seemed to be there that night. It took you a good hour to rotate amongst groups.

“[y/n]?”

You turned around, a smile instantly appearing on your face. “Alex! Oh, my goodness! How are you?”

The dashing boy smiled at you, his hand on your shoulder. “Hey! I’m great, how are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. I’m currently trying to have a good time despite being tired as hell.”

He laughed, “Well, I see you’ve got some good time juice there, so you’re halfway to freedom. Hey, I forgot to tell you — your performance in the nutcracker last Christmas was incredible. I, uh, I actually went to the spring ballet after that because I was so impressed.”

“Thank you,” you grinned. “I like to inspire people to experience ballet. It’s cool.”

“I was very inspired,” he nodded. “Hopefully we’ll have some more classes together this semester.”

“Yeah! If not, you know how to reach me.” You bit down on your lip to keep from smiling too wide. He gave you a quick wink, and walked away.

You instantly began looking for Claire, rushing around the dorm for anyone resembling your friend. You noticed her in the threshold of a room, shoulder leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. You walked up to her, “Claire! Claire, you’re not gonna believe who I just ran into. It was definitely not the reunion I was expecting tonight.”

Claire was dazed, staring in front of her with a face solid as stone. You very rarely saw her like this, and it freaked you out right away. “Claire? Claire, dude, what’s wrong?” You turned your head to follow her gaze, and your eyes landed on the couch.

People lined the cushions, and dead in the center was Matthew. His hair had grown out a lot, and he dressed differently. All button down shirts and khaki shorts. With that damn chain tucked in his collar. And beside him was a girl. Hair jet black, a matching black mini dress, paired with sandals. They were kissing. Hot. Heavy. His hand gripping her hair, the other on his thigh. When they seperated, she touched his lips and you felt yourself having a stroke. The giggled at each other and Matthew kissed her cheek.

“It’s about one-thirty, right?” Claire asked you, her sight not moving.

You gulped. There was an ache in your chest that made it hard to speak. But you took a deep breath, and release the words, “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Claire walked around you, heading towards the exit, and you followed. The two of you walked home, silent, arms over each other’s shoulders. In the room, Claire dropped her stuff to the floor, kicked her shoes off and sat on her bed. You rushed into the space, approached your nightstand and rummaged through it.

“What are you doing, [y/n]?”

“I’m packing a bowl,” you replied, grabbing your herbs, a lighter and the bowl.

“Right now? In here?” She gasped.

“Is that okay?”

She sighed, “Yeah. Come share.”

The two of you sat on her bed, thirty minutes later, laying against the wall with your heads staring at the ceiling. Your eyelids were lowered, red, and your breathing was slow.

“I’m hungry,” Claire said, texting on her phone. “Do we have gummy bears? I want gummy bears. But haribo gummy bears. Not those knocks off we used to buy. And some soda. Soda would be so good right now. My mouth is so dry.”

You stayed quiet, eyes focused on the lights overhead. You couldn’t get the image out of your mind. Matthew. And that girl. Kissing. Touching.

“Her name is Veronica,” Claire said.

You turned your hear to her, “Huh?”

“Her name is Veronica,” she repeated. “Or Roni for short.” She rolled her eyes. “She, uh, she’s from Vegas. She went to school with...Gube, actually. They dated.”

“Oh...” you nodded. “Are you...are you okay?”

“I — I, yeah, I’m fine,” she shrugged. “It’s just...really inconvenient of him to go back to her right now.”

“Back to her?”

“They’re together. They’re dating. Apparently they got back together this summer.”

You furrowed your eyebrows together, a thousand thoughts running through your mind at once. “What do you think about that?” Claire asked.

“Uh...” You shrugged. “I’m surprised anyone actually touches that boy,” you laughed, the sound coming out broken and sad.

“Yeah...well...Misty says Roni is a big one for Gube. That, um, necklace he wears? She gave it to him years ago. He never took it off.”

You nodded, “Yeah,” your voice cracked. “Well, that’s...that’s some heavy fixation there.”

“[y/n]...”

“I should shower. I’m gonna shower.” You went to get off the bed, but Claire grabbed your wrist. You turned to her, and she pushed your hair out of your face.

“I’m really upset about this, kid,” she said. “Can you...can you just lay with me for a bit?”

You sighed, gave her a small smile and leaned in to hug her. She held you close, placing one hand on your head and the other on your rest. And she let you rest your head on her chest, as you let silent tears roll down your cheeks.

Monday morning, you got up at 5 in the morning. You spent 2 hours in the ballet studio, twirling and dancing until your feet went numb. When you returned home, Claire was still asleep and you took a quick shower. You tried on ten different outfits, applied makeup, spent a long time on your hair. You made breakfast, checked for any assignments, surfed social media. And still had an hour before class.

You chose to walk around campus, locate all your classes, grab some coffee, and then you headed to your first class. Walking through the building, you sipped on your drink, moving absentmindedly roaming the halls. Suddenly, a hand reached out and pulled you into a storage closet. Your scream was cut short, and you jumped as the door closed behind you.

You looked up at see Matthew staring at you, a soft smile on his face. “Hey.”

“I’m going to class,” you muttered, turning to exit the room. But Matthew put his hand on the door knob to stop you.

“Wait, wait,” he pleaded. “Um, do I see you at the party —“

“Yep,” you nodded, not making eye contact with him.

“So...then, you saw me at the party with—“

“Yep.”

“Okay...[y/n]...”

“I really have to go to class, so, thanks for the detour, but I’m leaving now.” You removed his hand from the knob and left the closet, not looking back.

You walked into your classroom, swallowing to get rid of the weird feeling in your throat. You set your bag down and took a seat. You attempted to shake Matthew out of your mind, the smell of him, the sight of him, the tension of being so close to him. But it was hard. It may have been the hardest thing ever.

“Well, well, well,” a voice called to you. “Guess I got lucky, huh?”

You looked up to see Alex, giving you a toothy grin and a look of pure joy. “Alex,” you breathed. “Hi. This is awesome, you’re in here?”

“Yeah,” he took a seat beside you. “Haven’t seen you much since freshman year. This is nice.”

“It sure is.”

So.

Remember number eight on your list of atrocities against Matthew Gubler?

Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project.

Alex would be the friend. He was gorgeous and kind and so good in bed. You first met in a cinematography class freshman year, where he very boldly asked if you wanted to hang out some time. You smiled, said yes, and that led to the aforementioned sexual encounter. It only happened a handful of times, until the semester was over. Then you didn’t see each other as often.

But he was here now. He was here and he was flirting with you. You were flirting back. You were hurt and upset and confused and so fucking horny, you could burst. So, after classes, you reached out to him and asked if he could help you with a pre class assignment. He told you to come over. You did.

You didn’t work on the assignment though.

Starting off pretty hot and heavy, it was a few weeks of meaningless sex until he asked you out. Claire cheered when she heard the news, causing you to give her a confused look. “Why are you so happy that I have a date?” You giggled.

“Oh...I just — Alex is cute! He’s great, I always wondered what happened to him. You said he was good in the sack and he was always sweet to you. I’m just, so glad you’re happy.”

You gave her a faux smile, “Yeah. I’m happy.”

Alex’s friend was having a birthday party at his apartment, and Alex insisted you come. Said it was the only way he’d be able to have any fun when everyone got too drunk. You agreed, and when he picked you up that night, you were dressed in a purple romper and diamond earrings.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “You look beautiful, too.”

He held your hand as he drove to the apartment, as you got out the car, walked up the stairs, entered the living space. He introduced you to everyone you met, his arm around you proudly and your head nuzzled into his chest.

Watching you across the room was a very irritated Matthew Gubler, who sat with Veronica on his lap and a beer in his hand. You didn’t notice Matthew’s presence for a long time, considering the fact that he was avoiding you, and you were more focused on Alex.

While talking to Alex’s friends, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You strolled down the hallway, searching for the restroom.

“[y/n]!”

You turned around, confused. Matthew marched up to you, his hands in his pocket, his face determined.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you told him, and continued to walk.

He followed you. “So, you dating Alex now?”

“That’s not really your business, now is it?”

He grabbed onto your arm and pulled your body into his, hiding you two behind a corner. “No, but it bugs me.”

“It bugs you?”

“It bugs me. I don’t want you with Alex. Alex is a dick.”

“Well, not to me—“

Matthew leaned down and kissed you, his hands tightened on your waist. He kissed you like he was starving, mouth open, breath heavy.

You pushed him away, your eyes closed in shock and ecstasy. No, no, you thought. “Matthew—“

“Let’s leave,” he interjected.

“Huh?”

“Let’s leave. Me and you. Let’s go.”

“No,” you snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because, I’m here with Alex! And you’re here with...her, so, no. I’m staying here, with the guy I came with.”

“C’mon—“

“Matthew, no! No! Are you deaf? Are you dumb? Leave me alone, and go back to your girlfriend.” You suddenly didn’t have to pee anymore, so you returned to Alex and his group of friends. Matthew watched as you took a seat in Alex’s lap, and you pretended not to notice.

There was radio silence for months. Matthew even removed you on snapchat, and for your sanity, you ignored it. You continued a casual relationship with Alex, and he continued to worship the ground you walked on. A vast change in pace from Matthew. Claire pushed for the Alex relationship hardcore, saying hi to him when came over, giving you guys time alone, tagging alone with you two to parties.

But every once in a while, you thought about Matthew. When you saw a particular movie, or heard one of his favorite bands, right after you would have sex. And especially on Halloween. Over the summer, he told you all about his costume plans, party plans, and movie marathons he was going to have. And for some reason, like a clown, you just assumed you’d be with him when it happened.

By the time final exams were over, you and Alex considered yourselves exclusive. You strolled into the end of the year party, holding hands and laughing. You’d fallen into a good groove with his friends. They all liked you, you liked them, and you enjoyed their company. While sitting with them, one pulled out a joint, lit it and began to pass it around.

“Want a hit?” Alex asked.

“She’s pretty tiny. Can she handle it?” A friend said.

You glared at her and took the paper between your lips, inhaling and holding a large amount of smoke. She watched in amazement as you exhaled through your nose, “Well...I stand corrected, princess.”

You took in a sharp breath of air.

And that was just the beginning of the spiral.

You stayed in rotation of the weed for a long time, until your thoughts were nothing but a mess of words racing everywhere. Your eyes felt heavy, so did your body. And you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You were wondering was there ever really a connection or were you just highly sexually compatible? Did Matthew ever have feelings for you or did he just want one thing? Why does kissing him and fucking him and just talking to him feel so different? How come when everything falls apart, you want Matthew? How come when everything is going well, you want Matthew? Need to talk to Matthew. Where’s Matthew? Where’s Matthew?

“[y/n]!” Alex called. “You’re high as fuck,” he laughed. “What are you thinking about?”

Matthew.

“Come here,” and he pulled you into a kiss. And when you pulled away, feeling nothing, nothing at all, you realized you needed Matthew. You needed to feel something. But Matthew wasn’t here. And you wish he was here. Where’s Matthew?

Tears were springing to your eyes, but you quickly began to cough, distracting yourself with a new sensation. You rose to your feet, and exited the room, much to Alex’s disapproval. He watched you rush past him, his face laced with confusion.

Everyone you passed by looked like Matthew. Why did everyone look like Matthew? You missed Matthew. And this was unfair. You wiped at the tears in your eyes, but they were already gliding down your cheeks. They burned your skin and it made you cry more. You were blinded. And way too high to notice Matthew - the real Matthew - entering the hallway.

His eyes were redder than red, a lot like yours. His movements were slow. But something told him to reach out for you. Like a magnet. And you fell into his arms. It took him a whole second to realize it was you, but he did.

“[y/n]?” he whispered. “Oh, my God, [y/n]. What’s wrong? What happened?” His hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs wiping the tears on your cheek.

“[y/n]!” Oh, no. Alex. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

At that point, you looked up at Matthew. Focused in on him. Said his name. But his attention had turned to Alex. And he was pissed. You could tell.

“Wait, wait, Matthew, wait,” you pleaded.

“What the hell did you do to her?” He shouted, holding you close.

“Wait, Matthew, he didn’t—“

“Gube, let her go, dude!.” Alex snapped, reaching for your arm.

And that sent Matthew through the roof. He released you from his arms and moved towards Alex, delivering a swift punch to his face. You’d never seen Matthew so much as cuss someone out, so this. This. This was hard to register. Nonetheless, you screamed his name, attempting to push both of them away from the brawl. But it was useless.

Two guys had to step in and separate Alex and Matthew, pulling them to opposing sides of the hallway. And you had to decide who to follow. It wasn’t a hard decision to make.

You kept a good 100 feet behind Matthew the whole time, watching him stomp his way to his residence hall. You knew exactly how to get into the building, but weren’t sure you should. You’d never seen him so angry. So red. So primal.

But, Matthew.

Oh, God, Matthew. What would you say? What would you do? Did he want to see you? Did he want to be alone? Was his roommate there? You paced for 20 minutes, freezing your ass off outside the dormitory. Your mind was made up when you found the side entrance and let yourself in, marching up the steps. Now or never. Now or never. And you needed to see Matthew now.

You perched yourself in front of his door, paused, and proceeded to knock with full force. “Be home, be home, be home,” you whispered.

He was home.

He came to the door, shirtless, his face bruised, his hair tasseled, and that stupid, ridiculous gold chain around his neck. And you’d never wanted to suck a dick so badly in your entire life. You instantly imagined grabbing him, kissing him, pulling him close. But you didn’t do that. You stood there, looking like an idiot, until he spoke.

“What are you doing here, [y/n]?”

You hadn’t even thought about it. It just felt right to follow him. “I—I wanted...I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

He shrugged, “I’m alright.” His face was stern. Stoic. No emotion showed on his features and it made you sick.

“Oh,” you said. “Okay.”

You stared at each other for a long time. You just wanted him to say it. Ask you to stay. Ask you to come in. To admit it. But he wouldn’t. So you had to walk away.

“Okay,” you nodded, sadly, and ducked your head as you headed towards the exit. “Okay.” You sniffled, patting at your eyes as they watered.

Matthew watched you go. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. “[y/n],” he called.

You’d stopped in your tracks.

“You...you were pretty stoned at the party,” he told you. “Are you sober?”

You turned your body to face him. You thought about his eyes. How red they were. How slow he moved. How you had both been utterly and totally high as hell. “I’m sober,” you said. Honestly. After all of tonight’s events, and the sheer shock of seeing Matthew, being so close to him again, you had sobered up. “Believe me, I’m sober. Are you?”

Matthew licked him lips, nodding as he sighed. He stepped out into the hallway, and pushed the door to his dorm open. He signaled for you to enter.

You gave him a quick and sad smile, and you avoided eye contact with him as you stepped into the empty room. He led the way to his private room, and let you in, closing the door behind you. You kept your back to him, arms crossed over your chest.

He sighed, “I’m—Veronica and I broke up. Actually, she broke up with me...again. So, y’know, it wasn’t much of a surprise, but—“

“Matthew,” you cut him off, turning to him. “I need a favor.”

He hesitated, then his voice was strong, “Anything.”

“I leave for home next week for Christmas break. And since, I can’t seem to figure out what the hell about you is driving me insane, Matthew Gubler, I’m going to need time. Space. If you need time and space. So, you need to make that decision.”

“Okay.”

“But right now, take your clothes off,” you ordered.

“Okay.”

He stared at you lustfully, just like you wanted, his body moving on autopilot to remove his shorts and boxers. You mirrored his movements, and took off your dress, subsequently tossing your bra and panties onto the floor. He grabbed onto your body and kissed you, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your waist. He pushed you back onto his bed, falling on top of you and kissing your neck. You held onto his torso as he made way to your collarbone, nibbling on it lightly. He pulled away and gropped your breasts, massaging them with his fingers.

He was practically drooling over them, his eyes focused solely on your boobs. He leaned down and sucked on your nipple, while his hand slid down between your legs. He felt around your core, and slowly slid two fingers into you. You threw your head back, and moaned.

Matthew kissed a trail from your breast to your hips. He began to kiss your inner thighs, kneeling down in front of you and pulling you up to his face. He pressed his tongue against your clit, working his muscle in an up and down motion. You moved your hips against his face and his fingers, gasping weakly. You forgot how good his mouth felt, but this was huge, huge reminder. You gripped onto his hair and swore under your breath.

He noticed your thighs tightening around his face, and increased his intensity and speed. Your back arched off of the mattress, you whimpered into your mouth, and your chest was heaving. You let out a long groan as you came on his face, your entire body tensing up. He withdrew his fingers from you, and licked up from your core to your navel to your breasts. He kissed your neck, then your lips. And he sucked his fingers clean, holding eye contact with you.

Overwhelmed, you pulled him in by his face and kissed him passionately. He grunted against your lips, rubbing his cock on your core. He pushed into you, his jaw dropping and his forehead against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and this encouraged him to thrust into you. Matthew held you in his arms, moaning into your ear as he moved his hips.

You kissed his jaw, sucking on the skin until you felt it pulse between your lips. You could feel his muscles moving under your palms, and his cock striking a sensitive spot inside of you. It felt like you were crumbling, getting weaker by the second. But when you felt the chain hitting your chin, you wired back to life. You gripped onto the necklace and twisted it around your fingers, angrily biting your lip.

As he slammed into you, you muttered a soft “fuck!” and yanked on the chain. It popped off of his neck, and it was cathartic. You moaned and threw it to a far corner of the room. You reached down and rubbed your clit quickly, panting as Matthew’s body began to tremble. He kept his gaze focused on you as you let him fuck you into another orgasm, and your hips rolled against his in an eager rhythm.

“Oh, fuck!” Matthew exclaimed, pulling out of you just in time. He released himself onto your stomach, moaning and gasping for air.

The mattress creaked as he laid down beside you, collapsing with a thud. The two of you stared at the ceiling, naked and breathy and covered in sweat. You rested your hand on Matthew’s chest, and he intertwined your fingers.

The next week, you were headed to the train station to get home for Christmas. Not knowing what to say to each, Matthew and you hadn’t talked since last week. You sat in the back of an uber, your suitcase at your side, when your phone vibrated in your lap. You picked it up and recognized Matthew’s name flashing on your screen.

You sighed, swiped to answer, and held the phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“I don’t want space.”

“I—“ You stuttered.

“I want as little space as possible.”

You were stunned, quiet, “Okay.”

The line went dead, and you set your phone down. You bit down on your lip. But the smile was still clear.

[PART 5.]

#mine #college!matthew #esny #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg #mgg smut #mgg imagine

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notbadcal · 5 years

Text

// UNLOVING YOU // COLBY BROCK

This was inspired by the song Unloving you by Alex Aiono, thats all, enjoy:)

”Youtuber and social media star Colby Brock has finally been locked down by actress Jennifer Novak. The pair first met at the Stanley hotel whilst Brock and his friends were filming a video for his...”

A loud sigh echoed through the small apartment in the center of Los Angeles.

“Guess its time to go” the petite brunette that was sat on her couch in said apartment concluded

She stood up and walked out to the balcony. She lit up a cigarette and dialed a number on her phone.

“Laila” her brothers voice was heard on the other line.

“Hey Jack” She said as she took another drag of the Lucky Strike that was dangling from her lips.

“Hey what’s up sis?” He asked

He was concerned since he knew that she never called this late at night. She was much more caring about other people to do so. She believed there was a certain curfew to calling people.

“I think I have to move out” she sighed

“What why?” Jack was confused, he thought she was happy living with Colby

“Colby got a girlfriend” was all she said

It was quiet between the two siblings for a few seconds before the older one spoke up.

“I heard” jacks voice was sad and laced with sympathy.

He knew that Colby was someone Laila loved dearly and not just as a friend. Everyone around them thought that they were a couple. People on the street that didn’t know them thought they were a couple. They would hold hands, cuddle even kiss from time to time. They even lived together. And know it was like an end of an era.

Laila had no idea that Colby had been seeing someone but when Brennen had sent her the video she watched of a reporter telling the world Colby’s secret, was when she found out.

She was sad, furious, but mostly hurt. Hurt that he hadn’t told her how he felt. Hurt that she sat at home everyday alone waiting for him because there was no one shed rather spend her time with, whilst he was out with someone else.

“Laila, you still there?” Jack asked

“Yeah” her voice sounded weak.

“Do you want to come stay with me and J for a while?” he asked.

“No, I’ll stay here I’ll just look for apartments so I can get out of here” She said.

“Okay, but my door is always open” Jack told his sister

Right as Laila was about to answer the door to the balcony opened. Colby’s head poked out and a smile spread on his face when he saw his roommate and best friend. His smile, however, dropped when he saw the tears staining her cheeks.

“Hey, Jack, Colby’s here, I have to go, thanks for talking to me” she said and her brother told her of course and then they hung up.

“Have you been crying?” Colby asked, concerned as he sat down on the chair next to the one Laila was sitting on.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Jennifer?” she asked, ignoring his question completely.

Colby’s blue eyes widened with realization.

“I was going to I just didn’t know how to tell you” he sighed and put his head down.

He was ashamed.

“You broke my heart Colby Brock” Laila whispered

This made him snap his head up.

“Don’t say that” he pleaded

“Why shouldn’t I, it’s the truth, you knew how I felt about you and I know how you felt about me so why is that a surprise to you that I’m sad?” she was getting angry.

“How you felt?” he asked

“All I feel now Colby is that I wish I could just unlove you” she said

“You don’t mean that” he shook his head

“Why, You have a girlfriend now, why do you care” she asked

The cigarette that was resting between her fingers was almost burnt down to the filter but she didn’t notice.

“I wish I could unsay the words I said, I wish that I could undo all the videos, I wish that I could unkiss your mouth that has now kissed someone else, I wish that I could unreel your touch, I wish I could unlove you Colby, I really wish I could” she was full on crying now.

The tears weren’t stopping, and Colby’s recently dry eyes started tearing up as well.

“I’m sorry Laila” he said and put his head down once again.

“Sorry doesn’t unbreak my heart” she said and stood up throwing the cigarette but over the railing and going inside to start packing her things.

Two months had passed, Laila had found a new apartment right next door to her friend Brennen. She was doing her best to unlove Colby but she was failing and that wasn’t a secret. She hadn’t seen him since she moved out a month and a half ago. She hadn’t heard anything about him either. She was focused on her work. Going to and from set was the only time she left her house. She hoped he was happy. She hoped that Jennifer treats him right.

A knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

“Laila! Open up” she heard Brennens voice

She sighed and walked over to the door to open it. She had just gotten home from set and she hadn’t even had time to take a shower or change out of her costume.

She swung the door open and the person in front of her was definitely not Brennen Taylor.

“Colby”

“Hey, can I come in?” he asked

“I don’t know” she sighed

“Please, I really need to talk to you” he pleaded

“Alright” she moved to the side to let the blue haired boy inside

“Ive missed you” he said once the two of them sat down.

“Don’t” she said

“I’m sorry, Brennen told me how you’ve been” he said

“Brennen doesn’t know how I’ve been because I don’t tell him” she said

“Thats exactly it Laila you don’t talk to anyone anymore. Katrina and Devyn and Tara have all been trying to reach you, and so has Sam and Corey and Jake, I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you this bad”

Laila played with her fingers as she racked her brain for a response. She knew that she had shut all of her friends out but she didn’t want to hear about Colby and his new girl.

“I know” she just said

“I broke up with Jennifer” Colby stated

“What? Why?” Lailas head snapped up

“She wasn’t you” Was all he said

He took ahold of her hand and looked into her eyes.

“You might be able to start Unloving me, but I could never, because I don’t regret when I said I love you, I don’t regret the videos, I don’t regret the kisses, and I wish I could touch you all the time because I am so hopelessly in love with you Laila and I don’t regret letting you know that” he confessed

A small smile made its way onto Lailas face.

“Unloving you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and every night I’m not with you I guess I just get closer to the bitter truth that I can’t unlove you Cole Robert Brock”

“I’m glad you can’t” he said and from then on out it was the two of them.

They were together all hours of the day, and if they weren’t they made sure that they were either texting or talking on the phone because now that they finally had each other, they didn’t want another reason to say, “I wish I could start Unloving you”

#Colby brock #Colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines #xplr #samandcolby #imagine

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kittybennett · 4 years

Text

your choice | anti-soulmate au where they weren't born with soul-mates and they meet in a group where other people who don't have them meet-up. and they come to the conclusion that they're not weirdos for not having them. cause they have the group and each other jhskfjksdf - @malcolmbrights

ok i’m sorry this turned REALLY long but here we go.

aka: five times ev didn’t go to support group and one time she did

Evelyn Reyes spends much of her sixteenth year of life staring into reflective surfaces in the vain hope that she will find a soulmark has bloomed on her skin while she wasn’t looking. Most people are born within them, though it isn’t entirely unheard of for the matching tattoos to make themselves known in the years between childhood and adolescence. A teenager already, Evelyn is a rarity, late even by the most generous of time frames, and this makes her a repository for her peers’ pity. She takes to wearing long sleeves even in the sweltering heat of summer to avoid questions, but finds that it’s all people want to talk to her about. No matter how they phrase their comforting platitudes or prying questions, it all sounds the same to her.

Are you scared that you might be utterly alone? How relieved I am that it’s you and not me.

Evelyn hates them all, but most of all she hates the guidance counselor who calls her into her office to offer ‘support’ and gives Evelyn a flyer for a group of people with deceased soulmates. It’s not the same, the counselor explains, but those in the group might understand what Evelyn is going through. They can sympathize on how horrible it is to not have a soulmate.

Her cheeks burn hot. She shoves the flyer into the pocket of her hoodie and begs to be excused. On her way home she tears the flyer into little pieces and throws it over a bridge, watching the pieces of paper flutter and land on the river below while angry, shameful tears prick at her eyes.

After that, she stops checking her body for new marks.

ii. The first man that Evelyn loves also takes pains to keep covered up. Unlike Evelyn, he actually has something to hide: a bright blue tattoo of a bird in flight. The space where it adorns his forearm is usually bandaged lest Jamie’s eager admirers find a way to replicate it and render the mark useless.

When they lie together at night, Evelyn traces the mark. It’s the closest she’s ever been to one that didn’t belong to either of her parents, and even at a young age she knew not to ask questions about theirs.

“They weren’t soulmates.” Evelyn tells her lover one night. “His died when they were little — childhood sweethearts. And my mom has never talked about hers, but I know he’s gone too. She wouldn’t have married my father or had me if she thought he was still out there.”

What she doesn’t confess hangs in the air. Jamie addresses it anyway.

“You know that’s not the reason you’re like this, right?”

Evelyn is silent but the finger that was tracing his mark stills.

“Evelyn. It’s just bad luck. Seriously.” He tilts her face so he can stare into her eyes. Jamie is rarely serious, so this sudden sobriety makes it difficult for Evelyn to hold his gaze, but she does. “Bad things happen to lots of people, and it’s not the end of the world. My cousin is widowed, and he remarried and—“

Before he can finish his story, Evelyn kisses him. And kisses him. Her distraction works.

That night Evelyn prays for the first time in well over a decade: asking for a blue bird on her forearm. ( She breaks up with Jamie a week later. Better to get out with her heart mostly intact. She never does find out what happened to that cousin of his, though sometimes she wonders if she should have let Jamie finish. )

iii.

“Would it kill you to write something happy for once? Just one ballad about summer love, or getting dicked down?”

Evelyn frowns. “You know I’m not the bubblegum pop type.”

“That’s for sure.” Her producer sighs. “Listen, you’re good. But can’t you just write a love song that isn’t super … intense and depressing? Give us something fun and light-hearted for once.”

“What if I haven’t felt that?”

“Then pretend, or talk to someone who has.” The producer fixes her with a look between pity and sternness. “Seriously, Evie. Don’t come back here without a love song. And get a therapist.”

Evelyn returns in a week with a song about the thrill of a first glance and the intense flush of devotion that follows it. The song spends several weeks on the charts and goes viral after someone creates a Tik Tok dance for it, though none of that matters to sole inspiration for the song: Evelyn’s new cat.

iv.

Her second-ever happy love song is not as commercially successful, but it is inspired by a human being this time. Naomi is brilliant, and funny, and the most talented actress of her generation (according to a Vanity Fair correspondent but Evelyn is inclined to agree). The first time she refers to Evelyn as “the love of my life”, Evelyn spends the better part of a week repeating the moment in her mind.

Naomi really should have thought to mention the caveat.

Three years later, Evelyn laughs at something a precocious child on a television program says and asks, “What would you do if your child asked you that?”

Naomi shakes her head. “Pour myself some scotch and direct them towards their other mom, or dad.”

Evelyn is frozen.

Other mom or dad. Not you. Not the love of her life. Because Evelyn is only the love of Naomi’s life … for now.

Evelyn turns off the television program. “You don’t think we’ll raise children together?”

Naomi looks sheepish. To her credit, she picks her words more carefully this time. “Evelyn … be realistic. I love you so much but - someday I’m going to meet the real thing. You can’t ask me to say no to them for you.”

Evelyn feels the same hot shame she did when she was sixteen and finally accepting that she had no soulmate and never would. This time she won’t cry, not in front of Naomi. “I’m a person. Not your training wheels.”

She moves out the next day.

Dating apps aren’t much different, as it turns out. She has way too many messages from people who assume that being bisexual means she wants nothing more than to fulfill the threesome fantasies of heterosexual couples, and even more messages from people who think that because she is “unmarked”, she isn’t looking for anything serious. To be unmarked is to be written off entirely as a romantic partner, or at least as a serious one.

She deletes the dating app, but not before she posts a screenshot of her DMs to her Instagram with a caption finally addressing the rumors that she is unmarked.

I've always been private regarding the subject, but I owe it to anyone else like me to be more candid about my experiences as someone without a soulmark. Yes — I am unmarked, but not unworthy.

That night she’s flooded with messages from others like her, who thank her and repost her message. It’s humbling and uplifting all at once and Evelyn is guilty that she didn’t do it sooner. She responds to as many as she possibly can.

( One message stands out among the rest:

@ teorror: hey @reyevie - if you’re in nyc, my support group would love to have you! we meet at [ …. ] )

vi.

In the end, it’s not another rejection or loneliness or even solidarity that leads Evelyn to finally try talking to others like her.

It’s pettiness, and a lot of annoyance.

A former classmate posts a soulmate announcement on Facebook in which the caption describes meeting her soulmate for the first time as the single most important day of anyone’s life, the center of the human experience.

It makes Evelyn grit her teeth.

She is indignant that anyone would not consider the pain and feelings of inadequacy those words might cause for unmarked youth like the ones she’s received messages from, or her younger self. And she realizes with a pang of regret: it’s not just social media, or dating apps. It’s also the songs that people like Evelyn have written, the films and books that saturate the market that convince everyone that no other kind of love or measure of happiness matters when compared to romantic love.

As much as Evelyn craves it, she refuses to accept that it should overshadow every other aspect of her life.

She scrolls through her messages until she finds the one from @teorror again, inviting her to join his group and decides to show up and prove her point, even if she’s the only one who knows it.

To her initial horror, the group is small. There are only three people there, and Evelyn is just about ready to turn on her heel and walk away rather than join such an intimate gathering when a man bolts from his chair with an overjoyed expression on his face.

“Hey! You actually came!” He goes to her, and offers his hand to be shaked. “Can I call you Ev? Guys! This is Ev! The singer I was telling you guys about? Come on, sit down.”

The man she’s guessing is Teorror (Teo, she’ll later learn) guides her towards the others and the other man produces a chair for her and introduces himself as Rico.

Mercifully, they don’t ask her to introduce herself first or talk first. The woman next to her (Claudia) does, then Rico and Teo. Eventually they all turn to Evelyn.

“You don’t have to share if you’re not ready, Ev.” Claudia says, adopting Teo’s nickname for Evelyn. “The first time can be overwhelming.”

Ev nods, but feels she should try anyway. “I’m Evelyn — and as I guess you’ve figured, I’m also an unmarked.”

Immediately, a shadow crosses over the faces of the others. Evelyn stops.

“We try not to use that word.” Rico says gently and Evelyn can tell he’s taking care to not embarrass her. “It isn’t good to define ourselves by what we don’t have, rather than what we do.”

“Tell us about you. Teo says you’re a singer?” Claudia coaxes helpfully.

Teo offers Evelyn another wide smile. “I used to call myself leftovers. Or spare parts. I thought it was really funny, you know? But they’re right: focusing on what you lack just sets you up for more pain.”

It’s something to think about. She’s back for the session next week.

As the months go by, she sees the group outside of meetings too, starting with a potluck at Teo’s and leading to drinks and mechanical bull rides with Rico, or sightseeing with Claudia. At first she wonders what it might be like to share a soulmark with one of them … to find a soulmate after all … but eventually, she nearly stops thinking of the marks altogether.

Those fantasies end entirely after another night of dancing, as they’re having greasy fast food and Teo slings his arm around her as he tells a story that requires exaggerated facial expressions and wild hand gestures. She laughs and almost misses the moment where Claudia returns to the table with her order and slides her a crispy taco (Ev’s favorite) and Rico picks at the tomato (which Ev’s hates) and places it beside his own burger so that Evelyn won’t have to. They know her well, she realizes, better than anyone. They love her better than anyone …and suddenly Evelyn feels overwhelmed with her love for them in return.

Here is the intimacy she’s been craving her whole life: a love that doesn’t ask her to define herself by it, or insist upon its sole importance. It simply accepts, and gives.

Evelyn can only wonder why she ever thought this wouldn’t be enough.

#long post for ts #bc i dont remember if readmores show up on mobile #evelyn reyes*#tag later #mw*

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foxyotomelady · 5 years

Text

Another love, Chapter IX (JuminxReader)

Author’s notes:

The following story is partly inspired by the game itself (obviously) and partly by THIS post. Go check it out, cause I think it perfectly explains why Jumin is so overprotective sometimes.

Be aware of: strong language, angst. Actually, it's only one way to describe this chapter:

Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

It's been a few days since the gossip about the whole "love drama" came out and since you learned about Mr. Chairman's plans.

Surprisingly, these were peaceful days. Well, maybe not for Jaehee who had to deal with the phone calls from Jumin's father, as Jumin refused any conversation with him. For you these days were very constructive. You saw Jumin calming down, being less stressed, less jealous and not as anxious as ever.

But of course, these days did not last too long.

One morning, when Jumin went to work, and you were writing in a chat room with Yoosung: You: you really played this game all night?

Yoosung: I had to

Yoosung: I can't miss this event

Yoosung: I'm so tired

Yoosung: and I must stay for another hour

Yoosung:

You: Shouldn't you study?

You: You said you failed the lastest exam

Yoosung: hfdsybkb

You: ????

Yoosung: Elizabeth just ran over my keyboard

Yoosung:

Yoosung: Can't Jumin take her already?

Yoosung:

You: He's better now, so I think he might take her back soon

[Zen has entered the chat room]

Yoosung: oh, sorry, I must leave!

Yoosung: my guild needs me!

You: good luck! [Yoosung has left the chat room]

You: Zen?

Zen: god...

Zen: I had a terrible dream

You: what was it about?

Zen: I do not know if I should write about it

Zen: this dude will go crazy

You: But it's only a dream, right?

Zen: I saw you

Zen: You were scared and a woman was dragging you somewhere

Zen: I ran after you but you both disappeared into the dark

Zen: and yeah it's only a dream but

Zen: I tend to have prophetic dreams

You: whaaa? really?

Zen: yes, that's why I'm so worried

Zen:

You: hopefully, this dream will not come true

Zen: yeah...

Zen: but taking into account all the rumors around Jumin and you

Zen: I can't help but worry

You: did this woman in your dream look like Glam Choi?

Zen: no, I saw her for the first time

You: so maybe it's really just a random dream

Zen: I hope so...

Jumin's POV

The first day at work after the gossip leaked was terrible. All his employees whispered about it. He had to organize a meeting to explain the whole situation - it helped, now the company was in relative calm. He felt guilty for this situation - if he wouldn't be overcome by jealousy then nothing like that would happen.

Y/N, as usual, was right. His behavior was not healthy. It was wrong. Simply wrong. But even now he could not control his anxiety. It was better than a few days ago, but...

She did not call me and she did not write for about three hours and thirty-five minutes... He thought, massaging his temples. Maybe I should call, check if everything is alright... Then there was a knock at the door. Jumin gave a short "Enter, please". It was Kang Assistant, "Sir, Mr. Chairman is here to see you," Jaehee looked worried. "And... also Sarah."

Jumin frowned, "I do not want to see any of them, send them away." "Just let me in, I'm his fiancée!" A squeaky voice spoke.

"No, you can’t come in here!" Jaehee tried to stop the unwelcome guest but in vain. Sarah went in, followed by his father. "What is the meaning of this, son, why did not you want to let us in?" His father was very upset. Jumin sighed, "Assistant Kang, leave us alone." Jaehee left, obeying his request, and he continued, "You are both unwelcome here, and I do not know anything about having a fiancée. I thought I had made myself clear the other day, I will not marry this woman. " "It's because of this girl?" Sarah squealed so that his ears ached. "The girl who is dating that famous actor?" "She's not dating him, it's a misunderstanding and gossip, besides I have to advise you to be quieter, my office is not a place for such scenes."

"Scenes ?! So I'm making a scene ?!" There were for no doubt false tears in Sarah's eyes, "And what was that scene the media say about?" "I am here to ask you the same, my son," His father put in. "You always blame me that the rumors about my relationships with women are bad for our company, but you're no better now."

"I admit it's my fault, but nothing like that will happen again."

"But does this girl really deserve you?" Sarah squealed again, sobbing. "She is a viper who plays on two sides, I would never do it to you!"

"I advise you not to express an opinion about Y/N in this way, I will not tolerate it, especially from the gold-digger mouth." Sarah gasped, and his father narrowed his eyes, "Son, this is not the way you treat your fiancée!" "How many times do I have to repeat myself," Jumin corrected his tie, it got stifling, "this woman is not and will not be my fiancee." "Mr. Chairman, you promised me!" Sarah stamped her foot like a capricious child. Before his father could answer, the phone rang. Jumin looked at the screen of the cell and his heart ached with relief, "I'm sorry, but I have to pick it up," He quickly picked up the phone, "My love? Is everything alright?" "How dare you! In front of me!" Sarah was furious. "It's all right," Y/N answered over the phone. "But Jumin, what are these screams?"

"Do not worry, it's just that gold-digger." "Sarah?" "I'm leaving!" Sarah hurried to the exit. "You really disappointed me, son," His father added. "The feeling is mutual, father." And so his father also left, slamming the door behind him. Jumin took a deep breath, "Finally, they left." "Are you alright?" "Yes, my dear, I was just surprised that my father and that woman were here together." "Did you read what Zen wrote in the chat room?" "Yes, I do not believe in such things, but I admit that I thought about strengthening the security on our floor." "I just wanted to tell you to not do anything like that, we have enough security here, no one will be able to enter this apartment." "I hope you're right," Jumin rubbed his eyelids, "Please, call to me more often when I'm here." "Okay, I promise." "Ah, moreover, I do not like the fact that you appeared in Zen's dream." Y/N giggled sweetly, "You know that Zen does not have control over it, let alone me? I guess it's because he is worried about all these rumors." "Maybe I should come home earlier today?" He suggested. "Don’t do this, Jaehee has enough work, and recently you have not been too kind to her." "Are you scolding me right now?" "Exactly."

Your POV

Another few days passed and nothing happened. Everyone forgot about Zen's dream and considered it completely random. Besides, none of the RFA members thought that Glam or Sarah could resort to something like kidnapping. But, either way, Jumin told the security chief and Yoon not to let these women approach you.

It was quite late when you heard the screams at the door. You got up from the sofa and approached the door to see what this fuss is about.

"Let me in or I'll tell Mr. Chairman that you didn't obey me!" You heard this voice before. Was it Sarah?

"I'm sorry miss, but I can't. Mr. Han instructed me not to let you in."

Sarah screamed, "Are you deaf? I said I'll tell Mr. Chairman and he’ll fire you, I swear! Other bodyguards let me in at this floor because Mr. Chairman requested it. You should do the same for your own good."

"I'm Mr. Han's employe so only he can fire me, miss. Please, let me escort you from here."

"I assure you that Mr. Chairman can do anything he wants with you!"

Annoyed, you opened the door. Both Sarah and Yoon looked at you in surprise.

"Ms. Y/N, please go back inside," Yoon said, apparently worried.

"No, let me talk to her."

"Ms. Y/N please, I have clear instructions from Mr. Han. I can't let this woman near you," You saw that Yoon was sweating. The poor man was clearly taken aback because of all this.

"She want to talk, so just let her, gosh~!" Sarah scoffed.

"Yoon, I don't want to make any problems for you. I'll explain everything to Jumin. He will never fire you if I tell him not to. But I can't convince Mr. Chairman, so it'd be better if we obey Sarah's wish."

"Oh my~! This girl actually has a brain!" Sarah giggled awfully. "Yoon, this is your name? I'll remember it. Listen to this smart girl and let us girls talk. I just want to take her to the cafe for a little chit-chat."

"To the cafe?" Yoon frowned, he had sweat under his nose and on his forehead. "Ms. Y/N can't leave this apartment. It's a request from Mr. Han."

"What?" Sarah gasped and laughed. "What are you? His pet? I heard he lost his cat recently, that's why she keeps you here? Are you replacement for a cat? You poor girl!"

Yoon had a really weird expression on his face. You could tell that he was very uncomfortable upon hearing these words. You know for a fact that he was worried about Jumin's obsession over you almost as much as Zen, but he couldn't do anything about this.

"Yoon," You touched his arm, ignoring Sarah behavior. "I can deal with her. She's just a girl, she won't hurt me."

Yoon sighed loudly, "Please contact me if anything happens. And please do not leave the building. There are many cafes in here."

Sarah was very pleased when you were going to the cafe she chose. The first thing that alarmed you is that the cafe was located near one of the exits from the building. You sat down at a table away from the other guests and ordered a coffee.

Sarah was looking at you with a devious smile.

"So?" You asked coolly. "What do you want?" The second thing that struck you was that there were no security guards nearby. Did she really plan something? Shit, you should take Yoon with you! But maybe you were just oversensitive.

"I must admit that you are a sneaky one, first Hyun Ryu and now Jumin Han, decide and leave one of them to me!"

"Grow up, Sarah, you know it was stupid gossip." You looked at her coldly, stirring the coffee.

"I can provide the media with more rumors, for example, about the fact that Jumin Han is an obsessive freak who closes his girlfriend in his own apartment."

"God, you're so childish. I'll ask you again. What do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious? Leave Jumin alone, break up with him, cheat on him, whatever."

You raised your eyebrow and took a sip of coffee, "And what if I don't do it?"

"Then you will have to deal with me," When you heard that voice behind you, you shuddered.

It was Yuwoon.

Why there were no bodyguards at the last floor? How Yuwoon and Sarah got to know each other? I'll explain it in the next chapter. So stay tuned! :>

#the drama continues #Sarah's a bitch #but Yoon is the sweetest bodyguard in the world #lol #my fanfictions #fanfiction #mysme #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger #jumin #jumin han #zen #yoosung #jumin han x reader #jumin x reader

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lobsters-on-their-heads · 6 years

Text

Continuing Travels of Cophine, Part 2, Chapt. 10

Disclaimer reminder: I haven't been to the Middle East, so if I've gotten some details wrong, please let me know in a respectful manner. This chapter and the upcoming ones involved some interesting research, and I've tried talking to people who've been there, but of course things slip through sometimes. Let me know!

You can read the entire work from the very beginning here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116799

The night after the party, after a small dinner at Sarah's house, Cosima and Delphine rode with Sarah to the airport as cold evening rain peppered the city. Most of the trip was silent, with Cosima in the front seat and Delphine in the back with their carry-on bags. Delphine had spent most of the day recovering and doing a great unintentional impression of a cartoon sloth, but the after-effects of last night's brownies had worn off by late afternoon, and she was more or less back to her usual self.

As the airport infrastructure came into view, Sarah sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose.

“You gonna be a'right, then?” she asked.

Cosima peeled her face from the passenger side window and blinked at her sister. “Yeah. Yeah, we're gonna be fine. Why?”

“No reason.”

Sarah steered the car towards International Departures and sucked on her teeth.

“We will have personal security from the moment we arrive in Baghdad,” Delphine assured her. “It's a highly reviewed company, personally recommended by our contacts both here and abroad.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sarah rubbed her nose some more and the airport itself came into view. “I would feel a bit better if Helena went along with you, though, to be honest.”

Cosima laughed and imagined Helena following them around the Middle East. Hell, just getting her through airport security would be a trick to write home about. Putting a hand on Sarah's shoulder, Cosima said, “Do not worry about us. We're okay with what we have, and Helena needs to stay here with her boys. And don't go reading too many news stories about the places we're going to, either.”

Sarah laughed. “Not often someone accuses me of reading too much. Anyway, it's not me. It's the kids, reading up on every place you two go off to. I've got Alison on my case, too, telling me every little horror story she sees online –”

“Yes, we've heard,” Delphine cut in. “She's been on our cases, too.”

“She's calmed down recently, though,” Cosima added.

“And Art,” Sarah went on, like the words were being pushed from her body against her will. “He's coming to me every week with some other story he heard from one of the translators about someone's brother getting his head cut off, or somebody's sister being sold off to IS for God knows what. It's not like I just can't listen, Cos.”

The car wound its way into the departures lane and down the alphabet of airlines as everyone thought about what Sarah had said. Aer Lingus, Air Canada, Air France...

“Well,” Cosima said, “just remember, and tell everybody else this, too, that the stuff that makes the news, and the stories people tell, are the exceptions. I mean, yeah, obviously it happens, but not every day. Aid workers go in and out of Iraq and Syria every day without getting any more than a paper cut or a couple of nasty pimples.”

“We're being careful,” Delphine added. “We're being very careful.”

Sarah made a face. “Right.”

Five minutes later, Sarah pulled up to the curb near the Turkish Airlines sign. There were hugs and promises to call once they'd arrived in Baghdad, and as Cosima and Delphine went inside with their suitcases and bags, Sarah leaned against her car and watched them go.

Inside, the check-in process was smooth and the security checks predictable, and when they settled into the airport-standard restaurant close to their terminal, they still had thirty minutes before boarding their plane. They sat sipping water and nibbling on what passed for a “harvest salad,” and Cosima watched the other late-night fliers going by while Delphine did her daily social media Leda check, twelve hours later than she usually did.

“You did yours, then?” she asked Cosima.

“Yeah, at lunch time. You were kinda busy trying to remember that pool noodles aren't sentient, though, so you get a pass.” Cosima kissed Delphine's cheek, then her lips. It would be weeks, or possibly months, before she could that in public again. “You were super cute the whole time, though, fyi.”

Delphine grunted and resumed flipping through status updates of new bikinis, inspirational quotes, and cute babies.

“By the way, didn't Gabriela call you last night?”

“You mean while you were baked out of your mind and climbing all over my sister?”

Delphine looked like she had a retort coming, but just rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

Cosima giggled and squeezed her fiancée's arm to show no ill will. “Yeah, apparently her husband's divorcing her. Guess he was only in it as a monitor, and he was kind of convinced they could have kids, but when that obviously didn't happen, he peaced out.”

“Hm.” If Delphine had any thoughts or comments about being a monitor herself, she kept them to herself. Her thumb hovered over her Facebook feed. “Look at this.”

“What's up?”

The post Delphine pointed to was in Hebrew, and the picture beneath it showed a hand with an IV going into it.

“Oh, shit,” Cosima whispered.

“It's Avigail Chernev,” Delphine said. “One of the Israelis. It's the first time she's posted anything in almost a year.”

Cosima scooted her chair over to get a better view. “Is that her hand? For sure?”

“I assume so. It looks like yours.”

Cosima held her own hand up next to the picture on the phone and squinted. “I'll take your word for that. You are, like, the Leda expert at this point.”

Delphine's eyebrows twitched. “Yes, I suppose I am. You're still my favorite, though.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

Delphine took a screenshot of the Facebook post and emailed it to David Margolis, their Hebrew translator and Israeli cultural guide based back in Toronto. They would translate it themselves, too, with Google, but David's translations were more accurate and nuanced, and he could more easily match up the texts with others he had on file for both Israeli Ledas.

“There's WiFi on the plane, at least,” Delphine went on, “we'll need to monitor this pretty closely.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Cosima smirked. “Did you seriously just say monitor? Even after what I said about Gabriela's husband?”

Delphine stuck her tongue out and copy/ pasted Avigail's status into Google translate. In a second, the English side read Third treatment of the week, here we hope we can cure it soon!

“Third of the week, shit,” Cosima murmured. She pulled up a map of the Middle East on her phone and measured the distance between Baghdad and Tel Aviv. It was a hell of a lot closer than Toronto, but they weren't exactly next door neighbors. And then there was the whole messy political situation.

Meanwhile, Delphine pulled the Europe and the Middle East notebook from her carry-on bag. She flipped through it and tapped her finger on the first Israeli entry.

Avigail Chernev, born 11 June, 1984, in Bet Shemesh, current residence Tel Aviv Monitor as of 2016 – Daniel Fridman Primary care physician as of 2016 – Dr. Joseph Blachar [two msg sent by D.Cormier via D.Margolis, no replies] Social media contacts attempted 21 July, 3 September, and 4 December – no response

Delphine added a line about today's Facebook post on the otherwise empty page that stood in sharp contrast to the information-crowded pages on either side. The page before detailed the medical history and social media habits of Lonah Gerbi, the clone in Haifa they had already made an appointment to treat. Delphine tapped Lonah's page.

“We're not scheduled to be in Israel until the end of May,” she said. “Eight weeks from now.”

“Right, and we scheduled Lonah's treatment after all these other countries for a reason.”

She checked the time. They had fifteen minutes until boarding their plane to Istanbul, where they had a five hour lay-over before flying on to Baghdad. Baghdad, of course, being in one of the many countries with restrictions on travelers who'd had their passports stamped in Israel. Then she looked at Avigail's hand again. Third treatment in one week. Failed treatments, almost certainly, probably radiation or some kind of chemotherapy. The side effects alone probably kept her from working or taking care of her family or whatever else she would have been doing otherwise, and it was quite likely that the treatments had actually hastened the disease's progression, as it had in Jennifer Fitzsimmons.

“She can't wait until May,” Cosima said. “None of the other clones in the Middle East have shown these kinds of symptoms.”

“That we know of.”

She nodded. “That we know of.” Of course. More than once before had a Leda stayed quiet and private right up until she was dying, and only then did Delphine and Cosima hear anything about it. Desperation brought people out of hiding. Or, in the case of Nooran in Djibouti, brought the attention of enough people to point Cosima and Delphine in the right direction.

Delphine was watching her with those big doe eyes, waiting for her to say something, but the decision was obvious.

“I'll email the airline from the plane,” Cosima said. “Change the flight from Istanbul to Tel Aviv instead of Baghdad.”

Delphine's face didn't change, though. She licked her lips. “We still have to cure the others, though. Even if they don't have symptoms, we still have to – ”

“Oh, for sure, we're curing them, too. But we have to get to Avigail first.”

“Yes, but – ”

The airport announcement gong sounded, announcing preboarding to Turkish Airlines Flight XXX bound for Istanbul. They packed up their things, threw away their trash, and went to loiter near the gate with everyone else. At this hour, the crowd of passengers was quiet, mostly businessmen buried in their phones or newspapers.

“What if,” Cosima offered, “we just ask them not to stamp our passports in Tel Aviv?”

Delphine snorted. “Yes, certainly. Have you ever tried telling a passport controller what to do?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well, I don't think it's a very good idea.”

Some of the businessmen looked up from their devices to listen to the only conversation happening, but the announcer called for first class boarding, so Cosima and Delphine hoisted their bags back onto their shoulders and got on the plane.

Once they were in their seats, enjoying the perks of the frequent flyer program, Cosima said, “Maybe someone else can go to Israel. Cure the Israelis, and we finish up the rest of the Middle East.”

“It's an idea,” Delphine agreed.

Cosima pulled out her phone and texted Scott while the coach passengers filed past.

A minute later, though, that idea was shot. I'd love to, he replied, but I can't take that kind of time off work. We have a big project right now.

She swore under her breath but typed, Okay, thx anyway

The faces of Clone Club flashed before her eyes, and she imagined all of them in lab coats in an Israeli clinic, syringe in hand. Art, Sarah, Alison, Helena, ... None of them fit that image. None of them had experience putting needles in people. Well, Helena might, but she probably wasn't used to aiming the needles with the intention of helping, and she had none of the other necessary skills for this endeavor.

She tapped on her phone until the crew directed them to turn off their devices, and held Delphine's hand as Toronto faded away below them. When the city was entirely gone behind clouds, she turned to Delphine and said, “Rachel would do it. She gave me my treatment, and she knows clone stuff.”

“And she is completely inaccessible to anyone who wants to contact her.”

“And there's that. Fuck.”

Once the fasten seatbelt sign was off, they both had their laptops out, emailing everyone on the Clone Club listserv for ideas and support. David Margolis confirmed their translation of Avigail's status and offered to reach out to her in Hebrew for them, which Delphine replied would be very helpful. Delphine posted a notification on the Foundation's website, just in case Rachel happened to be checking in from wherever she was. Cosima's Google searches confirmed that, indeed, for most of the countries they would be traveling to in the next two months, entrance was denied to anyone who'd been to Israel.

After thirty minutes, though, Cosima found herself staring into space at the shadowy clouds moving below them, forgetting what the hell she'd been typing, or starting one sentence and finishing it with another thought entirely. Beside her, Delphine kept trying to hide her yawns.

“It's after midnight,” Cosima said, dropping her head on Delphine's shoulder. “Maybe one of us should get some rest.”

Delphine kissed her forehead. “You go ahead. I'm used to working late.”

“And I'm not, is that what you're saying?”

“Mmm, yes. You work late, of course, but not like this.”

“Not on an airplane.”

“Correct.”

Delphine was right. Something about traveling had this way of knocking Cosima right out. Maybe the sound of a motor, steady total-body vibration, and occasional rocking back and forth made her feel safe, like she was six years old again and her parents were taking care of everything.

When she woke up, the window shade was closed and Delphine's light travel blanket was tucked around her shoulders. To her right, Delphine dozed with her arms across her chest and her head tipped to one side, laptop still open on her tray. The rest of the cabin was bathed in daylight and a flight attendant went down the aisle announcing the last call for beverages or snacks. According to her phone, it was 7:20 in the morning, but when she raised the shade the sun was well above the horizon.

Right. If it was 7:20 am in Toronto, it was 2:20 pm in Istanbul, and they were scheduled to land at 3:15.

She opened her laptop, trying not to jostle Delphine as she checked the clone business email. Five new messages.

Art said he would look into it but made no promises, which could really apply to most of the emails they'd exchanged with him over the past year.

David Margolis forwarded both Cosima and Delphine the email chain with Avigail Chernev, her medical team, and himself. Avigail's primary doctor right now, it said, was a Dr. Ada Bronstein, and both she and Avigail were excited about the possibility of a new treatment option.

There was an email from her mother, linking to an article about a suicide bombing in Basra and begging Cosima to be careful while she was over there.

Her advisor at U Minn sent her a list of epigentics conferences that Cosima “really should consider presenting at.”

And to her surprise, Rebecca Twell replied to Cosima's mass email, saying she was so sorry to hear that another of their identicals was ill, but Rebecca could not take off that kind of time, either, and regardless she did not feel comfortable administering any kind of medical treatment to anyone. She ended her email with a reminder that if and when Cosima and Delphine made it to Scotland, they should absolutely drop by for a pint.

Cosima went back up to the email chain and tapped Dr. Bronstein's number into her phone. That five-hour lay-over coming up in Istanbul was starting to feel awfully short.

At Istanbul Atatürk Airport, they got microwaved sandwiches and juice from Starbucks and found a terminal waiting area with no one else sitting in it, so they could spread out over several seats and the floor, charging everything that needed electricity. Delphine exchanged more emails with David Margolis and Avigail's medical team, and compared her symptoms with notes in the MEDICAL notebook that listed all observed symptoms and treatments with side effects.

Cosima called everyone, starting with Adele. Alphabetical order seemed as good as any order right now.

Adele answered with a dynamic yawn. “Oh, hey, Puddin' Pie, how are you doin'? How's Delphine, more to the point? She back from her brownie trip yet?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's good,” Cosima said. “Did you get our email?”

“Huh? No, I haven't checked yet. Why, what's up?”

While Cosima explained the situation, Adele responded with various “uh huh,” “yeah,” or “well shit.” When Cosima finished, Adele laughed. “Oh, honey, I wish I could help you. I really do. But heroin is the one drug I will never, ever touch. Needles skeeve the hell outta me. I stick to drugs that go into holes my body already has.”

Cosima had not said anything about heroin, but she laughed for Adele's sake and said, “Okay, that's cool. That's, uh, probably for the best, actually.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you tried Colin, though? He's gotta have some skills there, right?”

“Uh, not yet. I don't have his contact info, actually. Do you?”

“No, but you know who does.”

Felix picked up on the third ring. “You want Colin's phone number? What for?”

“For the stuff I emailed you about. Did you get our email?”

“I mean, I skimmed it. I've only been up for about 30 minutes. Why? You still haven't found anybody?”

“No. Colin's, like, potentially our last hope.”

Felix muttered something unintelligible, but a moment later produced the number for her, and listened as she read it back to him. “He won't go, though,” Felix added. “I'm certain of that.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, first of all, he's hates flying. He's only flown once, and that was to Calgary ten years ago. He doesn't even have a passport.”

“He doesn't...?” She had forgotten that people could even exist in the world without a passport. “Wow.”

“So, feel free to call him. Tell him that I'm not pining away in his absence, and that he's much more attractive when his head's not shoved up his own arse.”

“You know, I think I'll let you tell him all of those things, and I'll just stick to clone business, okay?”

She called Colin and left a message, and checked the message that had dinged while she was talking to Felix. A picture greeted her at the tap of her thumb: the main room of Nooran's apartment in Djibouti, with the girls and Mohammed, the younger boy, sitting around a folding table that had not been there when Cosima last visited. On the table were the art supplies Cosima and Delphine had given them, and each of the younger children held up a piece of artwork to show off. Fatima sat the farthest from the camera, and she held a book close to her chest, a smile tugging at her lips. The table wasn't the only new item in the photo – a calendar and a flag decorated the wall, and a drying rack laden with laundry snuck into view in the lower right corner. The cell phone used to take the picture must have been new, too, since the family had not had one before.

While Cosima studied the picture, distracted for a moment from Avigail's troubles in Israel, another message popped up, this time showing Nabil taking a selfie with his siblings in the background. Tapping Delphine to get her attention, Cosima took a picture of them together, Delphine smiling and Cosima making a face, and sent it to the kids.

“They are such good kids,” Cosima remarked. “We gotta see if we can keep helping them out, somehow.”

“Mmhm.” Delphine's attention was already back on the task at hand. “Julian can't go. Neither can any of my other medical contacts, including the doctors we know are aware of the cloning situation. All of them are busy, uninterested, or no longer reachable at their former email addresses. I texted Ali, even, from Tripoli, but he's tied up for the rest of the month, apparently.”

“Why Ali? He doesn't have medical training.”

“No, but I thought maybe he could at least transport the cure to Avigail's doctors for us. They could administer it, I expect, on their own, although I haven't confirmed that with them.”

“Oh, yeah. That is a good idea.” She texted Clone Club back with that idea – not to treat, but to transport. Anyone could do that. Anyone that didn't need to go to any of the Muslim-majority Middle Eastern countries that Cosima and Delphine needed to go to, that is.

Colin called back at 4:23 pm Istanbul time. “I'm sorry, you want me to do what, now?” he asked.

She gave the spiel again. “And you're really our last hope.”

“Why can't you do it?”

“Because once we get an Israeli stamp, all these other countries won't let us in. It's geopolitical bullshit.”

Colin exhaled into the receiver. “I don't think you understood my question. Why can't just one of you go, and the other one go to all the other countries? I mean, there are two of you, right?”

Cosima bit her tongue and pushed her hand into the top of her head. “Well, for starters, all the people we're curing look exactly like me. Haven't you noticed? We're clones. It's gonna be pretty weird for me to look all of them in the eye before treating them.”

There was another heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “And you can't futz your way around that for one dying woman? Wear colored contacts or something? Seems like it'd be pretty easy. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Felix's last comment about the location of Colin's head came to mind, but Cosima said, “Just trust me. It's not the best idea.”

“Well, I haven't got any other ideas for you. I am not flying to Israel for you. I am not sticking a syringe into a woman I've never met for you. I am not going to deliver biological material that I have not personally inspected to a doctor I've never met for you. I don't even work with the living, remember? I sure as hell don't speak Hebrew.”

“That part really doesn't matter. Think about it, at least?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I'm not changing my mind.”

Just go yourself. She could change her appearance somehow and treat both Israeli Ledas while Delphine was in Iraq, but then Delphine would be in Iraq all by herself. And several weeks after that, Delphine would have to go to Syria all by herself, because Cosima would not be allowed in either of those countries.

Cosima made her way down her contacts lists and called everyone she hadn't already talked to, to see if they or anyone else they knew would be willing to pick up the job. Some people she called again, just in case.

“We'll sort something out,” Sarah assured her after coming up with no new ideas. “I already gave Art a call.”

Cosima even called her mother.

“Oh, Sweetie, I'd love to help,” her mother said, her voice heavy with sleep, “but I am completely unqualified for that kind of work. Even though you know your grandma's been trying to send me to Israel for decades, like with that Birthright program, you know, but for older adults instead of teenagers? Anyway, Israel would be great, but I really just can't go treating someone's illness. I'd probably do it wrong and make everything worse. I'd stick the needle in the wrong organ or something. I work with fish, not people.”

“Well, maybe you could just bring the cure into the country, then? Drop it off and take a week to see the sights.”

“Oh I can't. I'm having bunion surgery tomorrow. Did I tell you that?”

Bunyan surgery. Great. “Uh, no,” Cosima said. “You didn't. How 'bout you send me an email all about it, huh? I have to make some other calls. Unless you think your podiatrist might want to go to Israel for us?”

Sally laughed. “No, but she is Jewish, and I think she's been before. Hey, why don't you just mail it? The treatment, I mean? It's all sealed up, isn't it? You'd have to pay extra, but I don't think that's a big issue.”

Cosima could have kicked herself for not thinking of that earlier, but still, the idea didn't sit well with her. She and Delphine made a point to personally carry the treatment whenever they travelled specifically because they didn't trust anyone else with it. When she floated the idea to Delphine, Delphine's face mimicked her own.

“I mean, it's possible,” Delphine conceded. “But certainly not ideal.”

“I don't know how many other options we have, though.”

She shook her head. “Not very many. None that I like very much. We have a phone conference with Dr. Bronstein in about ten minutes, though, so we can always run it by her, see what she thinks.” Delphine checked her watch and muttered “putain” under her breath before winding the little knob to get in sync with local time. “It's very last minute, of course. I was afraid we might have to wait until tomorrow to talk to her, and, like we've been saying, Avigail doesn't have much time left. Dr. Bronstein seems willing to do whatever it takes, though.”

In the time before their phone conference, Alison called, and after a moment of checking in, repeated Colin's suggestion. “I don't know why you don't just go over there yourself, Cosima. You and Delphine are the only ones who have any experience with this. Put a surgical mask on and no one will notice you look the same.”

Cosima bit her tongue. “So you don't know anyone who could step in and help us out? No one at all?”

“No one who I'm willing to out myself to by sending them to Israel to treat one of my clones, no. Just go! You can rejoin Delphine when she's finished treating all our sisters in those... other countries. Or, you know, like I've been saying all along, you can just split the work and get it all done in half the time.”

“Alison,” Cosima began, “People recognize me. They recognize that I look like other people. Don't you remember how you felt way back when Beth first contacted you, first said you were a clone...”

Delphine nudged her before she could continue. “Dr. Bronstein's calling.”

“Gotta go, Alison. We'll talk soon, yeah?” She hung up before Alison could say anything else, and popped in Delphine's left earbud so she could participate in the conversation without annoying the few other passengers now camping out in the waiting area with them. Cosima took a deep breath to center herself and switch her brain from Sestra mode to professional mode as Delphine gave Dr. Bronstein a warm greeting.

“Yes, hello to both of you,” Dr. Bronstein said with a voice that reminded Cosima of character from Downton Abbey. “It's so felicitous that you've found us. I'm afraid Ms. Chernev's prognosis is quite poor at this point.”

“Yes, that's my understanding, as well,” Delphine said. “She knows that you're in contact with us, yes?”

“Oh yes, I've just spoken with her and her family, and Ms. Chernev has signed the agreement allowing me to discuss her condition with you and your translator, Mr. Margolis. I believe a PDF of the agreement has been emailed to you, as well.”

Cosima didn't see it right away, but considering everything else they were doing to save the Ledas, she wasn't too worried about a single release of information form.

“So, Dr. Bronstein, can you give us another quick run-down of Avigail's symptoms and prognosis so far?” she said.

“Well, she's been in my care for almost two years,” Dr. Bronstein told them, “starting with lung polyps that remain and have no clear cause.” She went on to give every symptom of the disease, and all the attempted treatments. Avigail had had numerous seizures that resisted the effects of anti-convulsant medications, and she'd been on oxygen full-time for the past year. Her doctors had tried every treatment that Cosima would expect them to and then some. Avigail had lost her hair and now weighed only forty-one kilograms. Her vision was spotty, She had difficulty swallowing. She was jaundiced. Her kidneys failed almost a year ago, and she was on dialysis, but the rest of her health conditions kept her off the kidney transplant list.

“Anyway,” Dr. Bronstein concluded, “I don't know exactly how you've found us, but any help you can offer is incredibly welcome. We don't know how much time she has left, since we've never seen something like this before, but, well, to be honest, it might not be very much time at all. Her family's been advised to help her get her things in order.”

Cosima hung on every word Dr. Bronstein said, picturing the cells and tissues and organs, and the woman lying on the hospital bed. “Third treatment this week,” she'd said, just that morning, on her Facebook page. The understatement of the century, it seemed. If nothing else, Avigail's attitude seemed positive.

“I'm glad she has her family with her,” Cosima said.

While Dr. Bronstein gave a standard sort of agreement, Delphine put her arm around Cosima's waist and held her tight, until an airport employee walked by and gave them a double take, and Cosima scooted away. On her own cell phone she typed We're in Turkey again, babe and showed it to Delphine. There could be no public displays of affection here.

“So, Dr. Bronstein,” Cosima said, “we've actually seen this condition a few times before, and we're very interested in treating Avigail if she'll let us, but, um –”

“Yes, that's what your colleague said in her email. How soon can you get here?” She laughed, and Cosima had a mental image of large front teeth.

“Well, that's just the thing,” Cosima began. “We'd love to get there as soon as possible, but –”

“–but we're also going to a lot of other countries in the region,” Delphine finished when Cosima's hand flapping indicated she needed help.

“I see,” Dr. Bronstein said.

“For the same purpose,” Delphine went on, “and our understanding is that we're not allowed into those countries after we've been to Israel.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Cosima and Delphine exchanged a long look. In her research, Cosima had run across another interesting fact – people who visited Palestine were occasionally not allowed to enter Israel, unless they were Israeli citizens. She'd made a mental note of that and moved on, since they didn't plan to visit Palestine, but now she dredged it back out.

“For what it's worth, Dr. Bronstein, we're traveling exclusively for medical purposes. We really have no interest in anyone's political positions. We just want to cure these women. And, again, for whatever it's worth, we are not planning to go to Palestine. We haven't heard of any patients there with this condition.”

“Oh! Hahaha...” Dr. Bronstein chuckled. “No, no, I was thinking more of our patient here. You see, I've reached out to other doctors, and no one has any idea, either, so I'm simply surprised, ehm, surprised that you've had so much experience. That's all. And, worried, quite frankly. I am quite worried about what will happen if she is not treated soon.”

“Well, we have the treatment with us,” Delphine said. “We could send it to you.”

“With you? As in...?”

“As in, we're sitting next to it right now,” Cosima said. “But we're worried that if we bring it over, we won't be allowed into some of the other countries that we really need to get into.”

“I see. Well, one of you could come and the other could go to the other countries. Or not?”

That idea again. The worst part was that it was right. It would be the easiest solution. It would also be the absolute worst one.

“Yes,” Delphine acknowledged, “that is one of our possibilities, but we'd prefer not to travel alone if at all possible. I'm sure you understand.”

“Well, where else are you going, exactly?”

Delphine pulled up the itinerary she had save on her laptop. “Iraq, later today. Iran, Kuwait, Turkey, Lebanon, Syria...” Below Syria on the list were Jordan and Israel, followed by the European countries, but the noises Dr. Bronstein was making on the other end of the phone interrupted that flow.

“You're going to Syria?” Dr. Bronstein exclaimed. “Have you really found a patient there in such dire straights that you must absolutely go into that blazing inferno to treat them?”

Dire straights was putting it rather dramatically for most of the Ledas at the moment, since less than twenty percent had developed visible symptoms, but that was beside the point. “Yes,” Delphine said. “We have. She may have more time than Avigail, but we don't know how much.”

“Well, you certainly are dedicated,” Dr. Bronstein said. “You're not going to Jordan, then? It's a bit more peaceful.

“We are,” Cosima said. “After Syria.”

“I see. I was going to tell you that entering Jordan and Egypt is often easier after a trip to Israel than some of the other countries are, so you may consider going there instead.”

Cosima leaned her head back against the wall. That was not the point. “We'll keep that in mind, thank you.”

“About our other suggestion, though,” Delphine said, “about us mailing you the treatments. There would be five vials, all properly secured, with extensive instructions --”

“Erm, I don't know about that. You've administered this treatment to other women, you say?”

“Yes, more than a hundred of them.”

“Oh! Well, I can't think of anyone better qualified, then, to administer than yourself. I wouldn't feel completely comfortable no matter how extensive your instructions are, if I knew that there was someone better qualified to do it. And I assure you, Tel Aviv is quite safe. You don't need to worry about traveling alone here.”

Dr. Bronstein probably had a reassuring smile on her face, but Cosima's stomach continued the drop it had started twelve hours earlier. If Avigail's main doctor did not want to give her the cure herself, there wasn't much chance anyone else over there would, either.

“And if you're worried about the stamp,” the doctor went on, “I'm told that many tourists don't get their passports stamped at all. They have this little piece of paper they stamp for you instead. You can throw that away once you've left the country, if you like.”

Cosima and Delphine looked at each other. That changed everything. “Really?” Cosima asked.

“That's what I've been told. I'm a citizen, myself, so of course I've never been in that position.”

“It's worth a try,” Delphine said.

“Can we expect a visit, then?” Dr. Bronstein asked.

“We, euh, we need a few minutes to discuss it, privately,” Delphine told her. “May we call you back?”

“Of course. This is my mobile, so it shouldn't be any trouble.”

They got off the phone, and Cosima started pacing around. “If they just don't stamp it for anyone, we've been pulling our hair out for nothing. Not that I'm complaining, but, it would be suspiciously convenient.”

Delphine tapped away at her keyboard, then her eyes darted back and forth. “Other travelers back it up, actually.”

“Shit, we should've just put that in our Google search first. Here I was trying to see if I could tear the page out of my passport without anyone getting suspicious.”

Delphine leaned back against the wall, fingers resting on her keyboard. “You want to be the one to go, then?”

“I think it makes the most sense.”

Delphine nodded. “I agree. Just in case, you know.”

“In case they don't let me in anywhere else, after all. Which is still a possibility, I think.”

“I think so, too, but I don't know how much of one.”

Cosima thought of everything Dr. Bronstein had said about Avigail, about how she seemed to be staying alive out of sheet pluck while her body fell apart all around her. In the end, there really had been only one solution – this one. “Go ahead and call her back,” she told Delphine. “I can be there by tomorrow morning.”

A few hours later, after a visit to the ticketing agent, a phone call with Alison, two more phone calls and an email with Dr. Bronstein, and repacking of their carry-on bags, they stood together just outside the terminal for Delphine's departing flight to Baghdad, which she would take alone. Cosima's flight to Tel Aviv left in two more hours. Outside the terminal windows, the sun had set almost an hour ago, and each of them had several more waking hours ahead of them.

“Try to get some rest where you can,” Delphine told her. “You won't do Avigail any good if you're exhausted.”

“Yeah, I could say the same for you.”

“I have a little more time. The appointment isn't for another twenty-five hours.”

“Yeah, but you have to get to it.”

Outside on the tarmac, Delphine's Turkish Airlines plane pulled up to the extendable passenger bridge. Before it began discharging passengers, Cosima nudged Delphine and gestured towards the women's bathroom.

“Come on. Last chance for a little while.”

Delphine followed her into the largest stall and giggled as Cosima locked the door behind them. “You want to have sex in the bathroom? In ten minutes?”

Cosima made a face. “Not sex, no. Not smelling like this. Just...” She draped her arms around Delphine's neck and pulled her down for a long kiss. They stood together holding each other and kissing until passengers flooded the bathroom with their chatter, their laughter, their complaints, and a couple instances of explosive releases.

“I just wanted to kiss you again,” Cosima said. “It's gonna be a couple days till I can do it again.”

Delphine cupped Cosima's face in her left hand, stroking her earlobe with her pinky finger. “It's just a couple of days. I'll text you when I land, yeah?”

“Yeah. Same. I'll... I'll keep you abreast of all affairs.” Her terrible attempt at imitating Dr. Bronstein's accent made Delphine break into giggles again, but their moment was cut short by knocks on the stall door.

“We have to go,” Delphine whispered. She peppered Cosima's face with kisses and told her how much she loved her.

“I love you, too,” Cosima said, just before the knocking resumed with a bit more force. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will, I promise. You, as well.”

When they opened the door, they were greeted by a stout cleaning lady and a couple of curious travelers, all of whom expressed some version of “oh!” Delphine gave them her best smile and a cheery “Bonsoir!” as she and Cosima maneuvered their way through the people and back out into the main terminal.

And like every other flight they'd taken in this part of the world, Cosima did not hold Delphine's hand in the boarding line, or rest her head on Delphine's shoulder. For those other flights, though, Cosima had still been beside her, and now she wasn't. She stood by the departures board and watched her fiancée move through the line of almost exclusively Middle Eastern travelers and get her ticket checked. Just before rounding the corner onto the passenger bridge, Delphine turned and paused. She smiled and gave Cosima a tiny air kiss, then made her way down the hall and out of sight.

* * *

Four hours later, standing in line at Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv, Cosima flicked through her messages. Delphine had arrived safely in Baghdad an hour before and was suitably exhausted. She said the security escort was working out fine. Cosima texted her love and sent another message to Dr. Bronstein saying that she was waiting for passport control.

Wonderful! Dr. Bronstein replied. I will retrieve you personally and deliver you to our guest house. I am the tall thin woman in the burgundy jacket, but I also have your name on a sign, so we should have no trouble at all finding each other.

In the next message, Alison assured her that “the Jewish family who lives down the street” had been to Israel and never gotten their passports stamped in Tel Aviv, and they'd never had an issue visiting any other countries. She did not, however, specify which other countries they had tried to visit. See? Alison went on, I told you this would work out just fine.

Scott texted her that one of his Muslim coworkers had tried visiting Israel a few years ago, but got turned away at the border with Jordan. But that shouldn't be a problem for you, Scott said.

The line inched forward. A baby cried. A man bragged to a woman about the ultra marathon he'd run in Israel last year. A little boy whined about being hungry. And Cosima swayed on her feet with no one to lean against.

It was after one in the morning when Cosima finally reached the passport control window. She gave the uniformed man behind the glass her best smile and handed over her passport, open to the picture page.

“Miss Niehaus?” he clarified, winning top marks as one of very few people who got the pronunciation right on the first try. He spent longer than any other passport official ever had comparing her face to her picture, confirmed her date of birth and residence, and asked how long she planned to stay in Israel.

“Two weeks,” she said. They'd made the mistake way back in Ecuador of being vague but honest about how long they would stay, so now they gave a nice firm, if wrong, time frame right up front. He nodded and began flipping through the passport, slowing down after a few fully-stamped pages.

“Um, actually,” she said, “I was wondering if I could get one of those stamps pieces of paper instead?”

He glanced up at her and resumed his exploration of her travel history. “You go a lot of places, Miss Niehaus.”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

He clucked his tongue. “Very many places. Mexico. Argentina. Oman. Libya. Saudi Arabia.” He looked up at her with a frown. “And you have visas for Iran, Syria, and Iraq. You plan to visit them later?”

“Yes, well, you see, that's why I'm kind of hoping you might stamp a different paper instead, because they might not let me in if I have your stamp, and well, you know.” She smiled and held up her hands in a “what're you gonna do” gesture, to show that it wasn't his fault politics were all fucked up.

He did not smile. He leaned over, picked up the phone receiver, and mumbled into it. When he hung up, he gestured for Cosima to step to the left. “Stand aside, please, Miss Niehaus.”

“Oh. Okay, sure. Um, can I have my –”

The officer handed her passport to a tall man in a gray uniform who approached and looked her up and down, one hand on the strap of his rifle.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered.

The room they took her to was tiny, with a long table on one side and two metal chairs on the other. A uniformed woman directed her to remove her boots, jacket, belt, and all of her jewelry. She then gave Cosima the most thorough pat down Cosima had gotten from anyone other than Delphine. While that went on, an middle aged woman (Soldier? Guard? Border officer?) sat in one of the metal chairs. The man who'd taken Cosima's passport placed her bags on the long table, and he handed the passport to the second woman, who set a recorder with a blinking red light on the table.

“Sit,” the woman told Cosima. “Take your hair down.”

Cosima did so, and the younger woman worked her fingers down the length of every one of Cosima's dreadlocks.

“It's okay, I left the explosive hair pins at home,” Cosima snarked when the hair inspection was about halfway done.

The younger woman paused for a moment. “No jokes, please.”

So Cosima sat quietly while the man opened up her bags, setting the electronics to one side, and the older woman looked through her passport. Maybe it was her exhaustion seeping through, but the more she watched them working, the more they reminded her of General Leia Organa and Kylo Ren from the new Star Wars movies.

The officer Cosima now mentally called General Organa began the conversation. “So Miss Niehaus, what brings you to Israel?”

She had practiced professional answer for that. “It's a medical trip. There's a patient here who's arranged for us, I mean, for me to come and treat her.”

“What's the patient's name?”

“Uh, that's confidential. Patient confidentially's very important to us.”

“Who's us?”

“The Sadler and Daughter's Foundation. Their information is on a card in my purse.”

The Kylo Ren guard emptied her purse onto the table and fished around in her things until he got the little stack of business cards, which he handed to the General.

General Organa arched an eyebrow. “So you're based in Toronto, but hold a US passport. Where will you be treating this patient?”

“At the Tel Aviv Medical Center.” When the General put the cards back on the table, Cosima added, “I have an appointment there first thing in the morning, and our patient's life really depends on me being there.”

As if on cue, Cosima's phone rang, vibrating its way in a little circle on the metal table next to her laptop.

“That's probably my contact at the hospital,” Cosima said. “She was supposed to pick me up here.”

No one moved to hand her the phone, but they waited until it stopped ringing to speak again. “And who is this contact?” the General asked.

That part was not exactly confidential. “Dr. Ada Bronstein. I can give you her contact information.”

“Please do. We also need to search your email addresses and your mobile phone.”

“Excuse me?”

“Failure to comply will jeopardize your chances of entering the country.” The General gestured to the male guard, who handed the laptop and the cell phone over to Cosima.

“Unlock these,” he said.

Unlocking her phone, she saw that, indeed, Dr. Bronstein had called her, and sent a text message inquiring about her whereabouts. “Can I just respond to these real quick?” Cosima asked.

General Organa frowned up at her, but did not say no, so Cosima sent a quick text. They're asking me a lot of questions. Then the young female guard took her cell phone and the General took her laptop. While they poked and prodded, Kylo Ren continued his search of Cosima's carry-on bag.

“I hope you like all the pictures of my fiancée,” Cosima muttered to the guard scrolling through her cell phone.

There was no reaction from the guards to her statement. Kylo Ren, though, held up the case containing the Avigail's cure, and Cosima sat bolt upright.

“What's this?” he asked.

“That's the medicine we use to treat people.”

“What is the chemical composition?”

At this point, it must have been close to two o'clock in the morning local time. Cosima's hands and legs were trembling, and biting her tongue got harder with every question they asked. Still, miraculously, she did not give the chemical composition as “the cum I scraped off your mom's face last night, bitch” but rather gave the actual breakdown of materials in each vial. The guard's face glazed over after five words or so, but the little recorder on the desk blinked away, and someone listening certainly knew what she was talking about.

“Where was it manufactured?” Kylo Ren asked.

“Toronto, Canada.”

“Where exactly?”

“The basement of a comic book shop. The Rabbit Hole.” She waved at her laptop. “Look it up. There's a picture of it on our Foundation's website.”

General Organa leaned forward on her chair. “You have been asked a serious question, Ms. Niehaus. If you wish to enter the country, I strongly suggest that you take this process seriously.”

Cosima's voice trembled and she dug her fingers into her palms. “Dude, I am as a serious as a fucking heart attack. There is a woman here in Tel Aviv who needs that medicine to survive. You can call her doctor if you don't believe me. Her number is in my phone.”

“That won't be necessary.”

Cosima bit her lip and struggled not to cry. She was in the habit of not drinking much in the last hour of any plane ride, in case she couldn't use a bathroom anytime soon after landing. The habit came in handy now, but her throat was dry and the blood vessels in her head throbbed, and crying wouldn't make any of that better. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Can I at least know why you're holding me? Or, like, your names or anything? Badge numbers?”

In college, when she participated in far more political protests, she'd had the whole spiel of what to say to cops memorized. But that was years ago, and she hadn't been exhausted or desperate to save someone else's life.

The young female guard came around in front of her and held Cosima's phone up so the screen was a foot away from Cosima's nose. “Who are they?” she demanded.

Cosima put her glasses back on to see the picture of Nabil and his siblings around their new kitchen table. “Friends. Their aunt is a friend of mine.”

The guard handed the phone to her superior and looked down at Cosima with a face that had switched from professional indifference to outright contempt. “Where are they?”

“Djibouti. Why, you wanna call them, too? Wake them up in the middle of the night?”

The General's body language also changed when she saw the picture. “How do you know these children?”

“I just told you, they're my friend's nieces and nephews.”

“What friend?”

“A friend in Djibouti. She was also a patient of mine, and the kids are in her custody.”

The General shoved the image closer to Cosima's face. “Those children are not Djiboutian. They are Arab.”

If she had been less tired, Cosima would have rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you got me, they're from Yemen. They're refugees. You might be aware that there's a bit of a refugee situation, like, fucking, globally right now, right?”

“Well, that's a bit closer to the truth, finally.” The General pointed to Nabil's selfie, not to his smiling face but to the wall of their apartment, where a green flag with white swords decorated the drab brown and gray. “What symbol is that, Ms. Niehaus?”

“I...” She looked again, with the feeling of being dropped into the most important geography pop quiz of her life. The flag looked Saudi Arabian, but the swords pointed up more, and there was a book between the sword tips that wasn't present on the Saudi flag. The flag wasn't Djiboutian, Egyptian, Algerian, or any other country she recognized, either. “I have no fucking clue. I'm sure you have a specialist somewhere in Tel Aviv who can answer that question for you, though.”

“Smart ass,” Kylo Ren muttered, shaking out her underwear once piece at a time.

“Ms. Niehaus,” the General said, “I suggest you give us a very good explanation for this photo, right away, or I shall have to deny your entry into our country, not only for today, but for the next ten years at the very least.”

Tears fell from Cosima's eyes before she could speak. So much for not crying. “What the fucking hell,” she whispered into her hands. “Please,” she said, looking at the General and opening crying now, “they're just kids. They're good kids. Their parents are dead. I don't know what the flag means. They probably don't know, either. For fuck's sake half of them can barely read! This has nothing to do with Israel, or, or with anything else! Just let me cure my patient and leave! Then I swear to God I'll stay away for the next ten years or forever if you want me to!”

General Organa might have said more, but the door opened and a trim young officer stepped in and addressed her in Hebrew.

They stepped out together, leaving Cosima with her guards, staring at her belongings scattered across the table and quietly sobbing. Delphine would have been out of here by now. She would have said just the right things, had just the right whatever-the-fuck, and they would have let her in the country with no problems. But now, hopefully, Delphine was sleeping peacefully in a hotel bed, in a country that everyone had told them not to go into, and Cosima was this close to being denied entry into what Alison called “the only civilized country in the Middle East.”

Cosima had almost dozed off on the little metal chair when the door opened again and the General came in with Cosima's passport in her hand and a scowl on her face. “You're very lucky, Ms. Niehaus. We've been instructed to let you into the country without further delay. Get your things together, please.”

Keenly aware of the guns still pointed not exactly at her but certainly not away from her, Cosima stuffed everything back into her bags, only taking any care with her cell phone, her laptop, and the cure. She asked no questions and made no comments. Once she was finished, she turned and held out her hand for her passport, but instead, the guards led her back around to the passport control desk.

“Dr. Bronstein will meet you through those doors,” the General said, her voice dripping with disdain. Then she cut in front of the other people waiting to get into the country, went into the passport control booth, and stamped Cosima's passport with the Israeli travel visa.

#continuing travels of cophine #cophine fanfiction #cophine fanfic #orphan black fanfiction #fictional depiction of israel

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insectoid5 · 6 years

Text

The Making of Insectoid (Part 1)

Several weeks ago, @whistlingwindtree complimented me on my icon, prompting me to talk a little bit about it. But it also reminded me that, back when it was new, I had planned to write a page covering how I made the thing, and post it on my website. Obviously, that never happened (because social media, fanfic, and everything that goes with it crept in and took over my life), but now that I'm out of school till August, I have more than enough time to tell this story properly.

Tagging those who expressed interest: @raksha-the-demon @frozenartscapes @shardsofarendelle @carrieasagiri @grrlgeek72 and @above-d-clouds. Wall of text and pictures below the cut!

Disclaimer: I would really appreciate that these images do not wind up anywhere else, on Tumblr or otherwise. I trust most of you to do the right thing, but this is Tumblr, you know.

The Name of the Bug.

I suppose I should begin at the beginning, and explain the origin of my screen name. Now, I was a fairly avid Lego builder when I was young; it's lesser now, because of Real Life and Social Media Distractions, but a significant portion of my closet is filled with it. 😂 Anyway, about 20 years ago, Lego's newest building system was the Insectoids, which look like this:

[That's my own scan, BTW, of the #6907 instruction manual. No point in hoarding Legos (and instruction manuals) if I don't show them off sometimes . . .]

Now kid-me, being an avid builder, and seeing that these sets were TOTALLY WICKED looking (and since I'd always liked the space sets in general), wanted every single set. (We didn't accomplish that for many years, but some deals on eBay finished the collection eventually.)

Around the same time (late 1999 or 2000), my dad discovered a computer game for Linux that had been around for several years, called XPilot. XPilot is a arcade shooter sort of game, largely influenced by Atari's Gravitar (which my dad also enjoyed), and a game inspired by it, Thrust. As such, the game has fairly simple graphics, but has endless potential for customization, both in the server program (which runs the "map" or world you play in) and in the client program. Most importantly, it is a multiplayer network game, gathering users from around the world, with a "meta server" that shows you what XPilot servers are running and who is playing, and allows you to join them. (Despite the game's decline in popularity, by the way, the meta server is still running.)

Because it's open source, XPilot was soon ported to other OS's, including Windows. My dad, brother, uncle, and I started playing around what I would guess was the peak of interest in the game; it wasn't too many years before human players started becoming scarce. Here's an example of what XPilot looks like, captured from a game I played in 2016, using the teamplay-optimized fork of the original XPilot client:

[Full-res image is HERE. That's my ship in the middle; the heads-up display shows who I'm targeting and what items I have, while the list at the left shows the players in the game, which on this map are mostly robots (R).]

Anyway, back to my story. (If I carried on explaining the game, you might be stuck here reading all day.) The short of it is: when we started playing XPilot, I needed a suitable nickname, and my latest Lego obsession fit the bill. (As a side note, at the same time, I gave my brother a nick that complements this one: Arachnoid (or just Spider). This earned us the collective nickname "oids" from a few players. 😂)

The Ship(s) of the Bug.

The spaceship that you fly around in XPilot, or "shipshape", can be whatever you choose or draw yourself, as long as it follows the predetermined rules. Anything from a simple triangle—

[This is the default ship, if you have no other ship set.]

—up to a custom-drawn polygon of 24 vertices:

[Insectoid XII, 2012.]

The Insectoid ship here, "XII" or "Mk 12", is the twelfth iteration of its design going back to 2000:

[Twelve years of artistic tweaking. Note that "I" is not here; it was lost long ago, but looked similar to "II". "IV" and "VIIIB" were seldom-used prototypes.]

These are, of course, not the only ships I've designed. Being artistically-inclined, I have, to this day, drawn 350 different ships. (The bulk of these can be seen on my website.) Now, because XPilot ships are simple polygons, it's fairly easy to make a graphic of one to use as an avatar online. For a while, I did use a screenshot of my ship, hand edited in MS Paint and filtered in IrfanView to look more flashy:

[Insectoid VII, 2007, firing missiles.]

I used that method to make avatars until about 2011. With Insectoid XI being more hexagonal in shape than its predecessors, I added an extra background feature to the drawing:

[Insectoid XI, 2011, with honeycomb background.]

In 2012, I discovered Inkscape, and eventually started using it to make vector graphics for my webpage. The first thing I did, though, was convert my entire XPilot ship file at the time to a PDF, and thence to individual SVG images. From there, I improved on my previous avatar-making process to present my newest ship, "XII", with the clean lines and filter effects only a vector graphics program like Inkscape could produce:

[Insectoid XII, 2012, with honeycomb background. The engine exhaust was done using a "film grain" filter, and glows with multi-layer opacity tricks.]

I was content with that for almost two years. In 2014, I decided to try something a little more ambitious: a 3D model.

Next: from vector image to 3D model . . . and back again.

[Continue to part 2]

#bug musings #bug tells a story #the making of insectoid #xpilot #bug does art #bug knows inkscape #(or at least I do now XD)#precisely on schedule #(edited to add link)

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taykhhsins · 6 years

Text

The Vibe

Previously on... Masterlist

Chapter IV

It has been two weeks since the concert, and my name and face were plastered all over the media. The overwhelmingly positive reviews of the song and my performance with Sik-k has been the biggest energy boost for me. I have too much inspiration for songs now, I've run throw my notebook. When I’m not writing songs in the studio or making videos for my channel, Jay and Cha Cha have been running me all over Seoul to prepare for the music video and meeting important people in the industry. When I do go to my hotel I'm sleeping within minutes.

Jon and I are playing phone tag right now, we never catch it other at the right time. I hope this doesn’t become a trend in our relationship. Of course, I could be a Higher music artist in the states, like most of my future label mates, but seeing how beautiful Korea makes me not wanna go back. Yeah, I miss Jon and my family but… Korea has been so welcoming to me musically. I don't know what I’m gonna do.

But I can't think about that stuff right now. I need to focus on filming this music video. Being a Youtuber I’m comfortable in front of the camera, but I’m not usually acting in my videos. When we were tossing video ideas around I suggested they hire a model to play the main girl. The song is a very flirty chill song, so I know the video would have to match. I didn’t want to be in a position that would make Jon jealous, but they insisted I be the main girl. So here I am on set cuddled up with Kwon on this small ass coach. We were shooting in this cute little house in Busan, right on the beach. We shot our solo shots earlier the morning to take advantage of the natural light. They want the romantic sunset to be the background of our couple shots.

“Alright Sik-k, for this next shot, your gonna rap this part as you look into her eyes.” The director says a handheld camera in his left hand.

“Like this” Sik asks his thumb lifting up my chin just like the director said. When our eyes met I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out, since we weren’t filming at the moment I could afford to be goofy. Sik-k laughs and pushes my face away.

“Yeah something like that” The director chuckles out “maybe will do another take with that ugly face, it'll be cute” he adds before backing up to get in position.

“all of her takes have that ugly face, she can’t help it” Sik-k jokes earning an elbow to his ribs.

“oops just trying to get in position… my bad.” I mumble dismissing his yelp of pain. He plucks my chin just as they yell action. We look into each other's eyes as he raps his part. We did a couple of shots like that so the editor had options for the final video.

“okay for this next one, Vibe, you’ll sing to him, but towards the end of the chorus grab Sik Hand and you'll both walk off to the left and out the door. Got it?” Asks the director, I nodded along as I pictured what he wanted in my head.

“so as I say ‘Wanna spend all my time with you, come to explore life with me babe’, I lead Sik out of the house?”

“Right!” He confirmed moving to where he’d film us. “start the track” he calls out when everything is in position. When the music started, I did as he asked. But as I go to pull Sik-k up, he was like dead weight. His stupid smirk settled on his face, I could tell he was trying to hold his laugh in.

“Min Sik Kwon!” I exclaimed, letting a few giggles slip through my lip. His face cracks into the stupid laugh he was holding in. “you're so annoying” I mumble popping his hand.

“Reset! Let's do this again, c’mon Sik” the director calls.

I sat back down and cuddle up close to him again. They play the track again and I do my part. This time everything goes as planned. We shoot a couple more clips before cutting for a break.

“ I'm happy you did this shoot with me… it can be really awkward doing that intimate stuff with a model” Sik confessed as he relaxes into the coach. “I was really worried when you were arguing for us to hire one.”

“I wasn’t so sure about doing it… like you said it's kind of intimate, so I was worried about my boyfriend.” I say letting a deep sigh escape my lips. I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms tight around them. “I have gotten a chance to explain the concept to him, so I still a little meh about it,” I confess. I don’t wanna argue with him over bull shit, but at the same time it would be worse if I don't tell him at all and he finds out like the rest of the world.

“Do you think he’ll really get upset about it?” He chucks a little, but I can't help but think back to that day, Jon, got mad about them feeding me fucking food. If he could get mad about something so innocent who’s to say he won't about this. Anytime I bring up the guys he gets so salty and annoying that I don't wanna talk to him anymore. I pretty much hate talking to him now

“He got upset when I told him that y'all were feeding me food when we went out to eat a while back.”

“Is that why you slap are hand away now?” Sik-k’s annoyance was evident on his face and it only deepens when I nodded my head.

“Think about this way, wouldn’t you been on edge if your girl was in another country surrounded by men all the time?”

“I don’t know…I guess I wouldn't be too thrilled that another man was putting food in my girl's mouth.” He says with a sigh. “But this is work, it's how we get known and start making that money. He is gonna have to get over that if he wants to date an Idol.” He adds gesturing around to all of the cameras and people.

Everything he said was right… doing music videos like this is part of the job description. Being on set shooting has been so fun, and I’m not gonna give it up because he is a little insecure. As much as I don’t wanna piss him off, I wanna enjoy my time here. These experiences I'm having are once in a lifetime, I can spend my time tiptoeing around trying not overstep boundaries I don't even know are there

“Hey, tell your boyfriend that your gonna be my Platonic date to this award show coming up.” Sik demands putting emphasis on the word “Platonic”.

“Why I gotta be your date, hmm? Got turned down by that girl from the club?” I tease. He pushes at my shoulder and I fall over on my side, still laughing. Hanging around Sik can have just as many serious moments as funny ones. He knows how to cut the tense in the air. Being around Sik was just relaxing to me

“It’s so we can promote the song, besides we are performing there anyway”

That revelation made me stop laughing immediately as I sat up to look at him.

“What's with that look? They didn’t tell you?”

“No, they ain’t said shit to me! When is it?” Just as my questions slip through my lips the two CEOs stroll on to set. “Hey! When were you gonna tell me we were performing at an awards show?” My question catching them by surprise.

“We were just asked like two days ago,” Jay says

“We actually came to tell you now… though Min Sik could keep that mouth shut.” Chase says smacking min Sik in the back of his head. He yelped loudly grabbing at the back of his head

“I didn’t know it was a secret” He hisses

“Well, when is it… I didn’t really pack for an award show.”

“It's this Friday, and your look has already been taken care of,” Chase says leaning over the couch in-between Min Sik and me

“We have a styles getting a couple of looks for you to choose from when the day comes” Jay adds his two cents. “How's the music video coming along?”

While Sik filled them in on the progress of the video I checked my phone. I had a few texts from Autumn, Marcus, and Jon. I quickly texted the first two back and let Jonathan's text sit for a little longer. He asked what I was up too and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell him exactly what yet. Before coming out to Korea I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell him, and I can’t say I know exactly how we got here in these short two weeks. If our love is to work we have to be completely upfront right? I mean he has been honest with his feelings and so should I.

I typed out several variations of a text, but they all mean the same thing. It was a simple thing to say so why couldn't I just say it? “I'm shooting a music video with Sik-k. Oh, and I’m going with him to an award show.” It doesn’t matter how I say it, I know the reaction was gonna be the same. Just as the Director called for the end of the break, I hit send and turned off my phone. I’ll deal with the reaction later.

I didn’t get a reply until on the day of the award show, two days later.

“Ok.” was all it said and I after being ignored for two days I wasn’t exactly in the mood to reply back to him. It helped that really didn’t have time to text him back anyway with preparing for my performance.

Higher Music and AMOG rented the penthouse of this fancy hotel not far from the venue. We all slept here last night because we had a long day of rehearsal and Jay didn’t want us to be late or anything. Jay Park “the professional” was on the clock now and everything had to be perfect. He made us run through the song ten times until it was how he liked it. I couldn’t hate on him

At the moment we were chilling eating Dinner before we had to get dressed up… Well, the guys where. I was standing in front of a rack full of clothes. I needed to decide what I would wear on the red carpet. I run my fingers across the soft fabrics. This was my first red carpet appearance and I needed to make a great impression. Debuting to an entire country on national Tv is different than debuting at an underground hip-hop club, this was more damning. H1gher Music could decide not to sign me based off this and that would be the single most devastating thing in my life right now

“Put on a runway for us.” Hoody suggests before taking another sip of her sujo. All the boys nod in agreement. I agree, having their opinion would help me make a choice. The stylist and I wheel the rack into my room and she puts me in the first outfit. It was a light pink pants suit with a black low cut bodysuit. I slipped on the white pumps she picked out.

Checking myself out in the full-length mirror, I didn’t hate the look. It was perfectly tailored to me, but it didn’t feel like something id wears.

“Shall we show them?” The stylist asks already headed for the door. I follow after her out to the rowdy crowd. Grey gestures for me to do a spin and I do, Showing them all sides of the outfit. I even took the suit jacket off to show them the bodysuit more.

“Next,” they all say, and with a sigh of relief I go and change. It was like that for the next two outfits, but the next one… damn. It was a white off the shoulders dress. stopping at the middle of my thigh and the sleeves pooled nicely at my wrist.

“This is the one” I mumble to myself as I look in the mirror. Slipping on some pumps that matched my skin tone, I walked out to see the reaction of the peanut gallery. They dropped silently when their eyes landed on me. I did a spin like the other times, but when I turned around they still hadn’t said anything. I looked down at it because maybe it really wasn't the one. Maybe it looked way uglier than I thought

“so?” I ask a little put off by their quietness

“This is the one. We don’t need to see more.” Min Sik said walking over to me.

“You look stunning.” Hoody says clapping

“You aren't allowed to stand by me… fucking steal my shine” Jay says jokingly

“Are you sure it isn’t cause I’m even taller in heels?” I say trying not to laugh in his face, but hearing everyone else dying got me.

“Ha ha Ha our Erin thinks she’s so damn funny” He mumbles walking into his own room to get dressed.

The van ride was filled with laughter, so I didn’t have a chance to feel nervous, but once we pulled up to the venue It all came rushing in on me. Seeing the red carpet, the fans, and all the Cameraman has me running through all the ways I could fuck up. What if I trip over in front of all these peoples? Or my dress falls apart?

“Stop shaking, you’ll be fine.”Min Sik whispered in my ear. I didn’t realize that my leg was shaking until Sik-k rested his hand on my knee. “I’ll be right there with you. Just breath”

I took a deep breath and exhaled just as the doors to the van slide open. Cameras flashed rapidly and the sounds of fans filled my ears. Jay and Chase got out first then the rest followed before it was just me and Min Sik.

“I'm not gonna let you fall,” He says before getting out. He takes off his suit jacket and blocked me from the cameras as I climbed out. When I stood next to him I helped him put his jacket back on. His hand resting on my back and guiding me down the carpet.

We stop every couple of feet to take photos; sometimes with the entire group, or just me and him, or just one of us. When we finally get inside the venue, I let out a breath, I didn’t know I was holding, out. We followed staff to our seats. They put us on the left of the main stage up in the balcony. I looked around at the venue, It was quickly filling up with Idols and fans. The coaches next to us were empty, but not for long. I watched as a staffer collected the name tags off the seats before I could see who would be sitting next to us.

“Oh my fucking God” I let slip as the seven men walked in, It was BTS. Sik pinched my sides before laughing. He knew just how much of an ARMY I was. Honestly, anyone who watches my videos knows I am the biggest ARMY. I make dance covers and lookbooks inspired by them. This moment is like getting that DM from Jay all over again.

I stood up with everyone else and greeted them, before taking our seats again.

Jay leaned down next to my ear “Don’t start fangirling” He teases.

“Leave me alone,” I say pushing his face back. But I can still hear his stupid laugh. “I really want their autograph” I mumble to Sik hoping he would keep it between us. I clear forgot who I was talking to and who I was surrounded by.

“Well let go get it,” Jay says standing up.

“what- wait-“ before I could stop him he had already gotten their attention. I slowly turned around in my seat to see them looking at us.

“Hey my friend is … what do you call your fans again?” He asks

“ARMY.” they say and my little heart damn near explodes.

“Yeah she's a huge ARMY, always listening to your music” Chase chimes, and Sik pushes me to stand up. BTS eyes landed on me and I wanted to go hide somewhere.

“Sorry to bother you” I mumble. “But would it be okay to get a photo… and you guys Autograph” I ask playing with the sleeves of my dress. They looked at each other before nodding.

“Yeah, we’d look to take a picture for an ARMY.” Namjoon says with his signature smile. Sik took my phone and told me to sit in between Jungkook and Jimin.

“Its uh… Nice to meet you guys” I try to say but out of nervousness my Korean pronunciation was shaky. Jimin and Jungkook looked at me confused. I repeat it again but clearly and they smile nodding saying it back.

“Our Erin is so nervous she’s forgetting how to talk, So cute” Sik jokes

“You wanna die? Just take the picture” I grumble making BTS laugh loudly. He sucks his teeth at me before snapping photos. He hands my phone back to me and I look over the photos quickly.

“You watch Anime ?” Jungkook asked pointing at my Spirited away phone case.

“Yeah… Spirited away is my favorite Movie” I say starting a conversation that I didn’t think would end. All the members got in on the conversation… except for Suga or Yoongi. He didn’t say much and didn’t seem that interested in what we were talking about. I didn’t get a bad vibe from him, and I know it was in his nature to be a little more reserved around new people. I gave Jungkook my number so we could play each other in Fortnite, I told him I was gonna kick his ass. Jonathan and I would play each other and I've gotten pretty damn good at the game. I've even bet Sik and Chase when we play during our downtime.

“So do you work for Jay Park?” Jin asks leaning in closer. I notice Yoongi, who was sitting beside him perk up a little.

“I'm on trial for a recording contract with H1gher Music.”

“So are you a rapper?” Yoongi asks quickly

“I can rap a little, but I’m mostly here to sing. Singing is what got be discovered so that what I’m sticking with” I laugh nervously. Knowing that I had Yoongi’s attention mad my fingers rub quickly against my phone case. Yoongi was just as handsome in person as I thought he’d be… well, all of BTS was really.

“That’s really cool, Good luck on your debut.” Taehyung chimes in with his big boxes smile.

“I should get back to my people, It was really nice to meet you guys. I’ve been in ARMY since your debut, keep up the good work.” I say flashing a bright smile before heading back to my seat. Just as I sat down the show started and a Camera was pointed at us. I saw that we were on the big screen and I shyly wave at the camera with Sik-k laughing beside me waving too. We got to watch most of the show, and I had to fight myself from sneaking looks over at BTS throughout the whole show. About halfway through the show Sik-k and I got escorted backstage to get ready for our performance

I quickly change out of my dress and to my performance outfit. Long silk pants and a black bralette. My stylist helps me into a black silk jacket and to put on the chokers she picked out. With one last look in the mirror, I’m out the door. Sik-k and I both walk out of our dressing rooms at the same time.

“Ready E?” he asks as we follow the staff to the side stage

“As Ready as I’ll ever be” I whisper. I feel like I've drunk three cups of espresso and a red bull; I'm a jittery mess all over again. He pats my shoulder in attempts to reassure me, but the thought of performing in front of industry professionals and my favorite Kpop group was making me want to run away. If I fuck up in front of all these peoples I will be the embarrassment of H1gher Music and I just know Jay and Chase won't sign me then.

“When you hit that stage all them nervous are gonna go away.”

“How do you know that.”

“Because you're like me. We get nervous before every performance but when we hear the music we totally forget we were even scared.”

He was right. As soon as I heard the first note, the nervousness of earlier felt silly. My energy feed off the crowds loving reactions and I got lost in the moment. Just like the first time I performed, Sik-k and I played off each other. We danced around each other singing the lyrics like it was just us. Our on-stage chemistry is undeniable. When the sang the last note, I wanted the song to begin again.

The walk back to our seats was filled with compliments from Idols I have looked up too. I was riding on a high that I never want to come down. And the good Vibes didn't end there either, as soon as we entered our section everyone seating they broke out into a round of applause. My cheeks burned as I saw the look of amazement from BTS.

“That was really amazing” Namjoon spoke and his members nodded in agreement. I simply bow my head and say “thank you” because anything more would show just how much I'm freaking out inside. It's one thing to meet your Favorite group, it's another thing for them to compliment you on something. I was just a little flustered

“Now I’m really looking forward to your debut,” Jimin adds

“Fingers crossed that I get signed,” I say with a wink

“She’s too good not to get signed.” I hear Suga mumble and I can feel the burn from my cheeks rush to the tips of my ears. I can’t wipe the smile off my face when he smiles up at me. Before I could say anything I was called back to my seat. I quickly waved goodbye.

Tonight I can't fall asleep because all I can think about is everything that has happened today. A smile was a permitted fixture on my face and I can't say id ever get tired of it. This was the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. This moment right now, the post-performance high still lingering on me as I gaze out my hotel window. It is now that I feel like my dreams are tangible, I can feel it on my fingertips

...Continue

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deliverydefresas · 6 years

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masters of the scene

I know this is super shocking bc this is probs the soonest (?) ive posted between parts lmao

I did want to hurry things up before saturday, tho, so here we have it, friendsss. if you’ve missed a part:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

AU: Matteo Balsano is a famous singer who has been crushing on this one girl he saw every day behind a window many years ago, back when he first started recording his debut album and inspired his first big hit, “Princesa”. Luna Valente, professional Olympic skater turned actress is at a local (and very popular) talk show to promote her breakout movie. This is where it all starts.

BREAKING: OLYMPIC GOLD MEDALLIST SAYS GOODBYE TO SKATING

SOL BENSON, 24, recently known for her role as skating legend Marissa Mint in “SHATTERED WINGS”, announced this morning she wouldn’t return to training, or to any competition as a participant again. The announcement was posted on all her social media accounts, reading: “I can proudly say it’s time. Today, a new chapter in my life begins. I’m officially retiring from professional skating.”

Benson also took the chance to thanks her fans, saying: “The last ten years have been an unforgettable experience. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to thank everyone who has been by my side helping, supporting, and cheering on me on this journey. I’ve done everything I could and wanted, and I hope you’re all as proud of me as I am of myself and the accomplishments we’ve done. I love you all very much.” The now ex-skater didn’t specify why she was leaving, but she affirmed it wasn’t anything but a personal choice: “I know many of you are shocked, or confused as to why I’m doing this now, that’s the reason I want to point out it’s not because of my health or a change of careers, as I know some might be thinking. Simply, this is me acknowledging my heart’s desires.”

Opinions and critics were instantaneous from the fans.

@ Sol_Benson: Thank you. pic.tw.com/3747829

@ solnation: @ Sol_Benson please tell me this is an early april fools joke I’m crying

@ sol_fan73937: @ Sol_Benson THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT, THIS IS NOT WHAT I PLANNED, AND I JUST WANT TO SAY I DO NOT UNDERSTAND

@ SolMiReina56: @ Sol_Benson on one hand I’m happy you’re doing this in your terms but on the other I just want to scream whAT THE FORK BENSON

Benson’s famous friends, however, showed nothing but support for her.

@ Simon_RB: today the sun goes down and the moon rises! So proud of you @ Sol_Benson

@ JimM: Working with you, one of the greatest skaters of our time, was a privilege. Being your friend, and share all these memories, is an honor. Your talent will shine bright like your soul no matter what ♥ @ Sol_Benson

@ TheAmbarSmith: An absolute star. @ Sol_Benson

The news broke amid rumors of the skating star dating Italian heartthrob, Matteo Balsano, leading some fans and theorist that her new relationship was linked to her decision.

@ SolecitoDeMadrugada: I don’t wanna start sh*t here, folks, but Sol said she’s acknowledging ‘her heart’s desires’…. What if Balsano convinced her to quit????

@ SolBonita: If Matteo Balsano had anything to do with this I will cut that bitch in half just sayin’

@ soltteoforever: omg what if sol quit to form a duet with matteo???!!! #relationshipgoals

@ elbalsanito: if y’all really think MATTEO BALSANO would make his two minute long girlfriend quit her career for him y’all are batsh*t crazy don’t even look at me

So far Benson and her team have offered no comment to the critics, choosing silence over explanations, and only time will tell what she’s planned for herself next.

Is this really her end in skating? Will she approach a musical career with her beau? For more Sol Benson, click here!

He was a coward.

And an idiot.

An idiotic coward, really, because he hung up on her as fast as his brain and hand could do it. He could’ve lied, told her it was only a guessing. Or he could’ve come clean about his stalker-ish ways and freak her out. Or come clean and skip the stalker-ish ways. But, no, he’d hung up and now when she saw him she’d demand an explanation and probably give him crap for hanging up on her and then creating a lame excuse as to why.

Because so far, he could only come up with his phone dying in that exact moment and him forgetting to call her back. For two weeks.

Again, an idiotic coward he was.

“Are you listening to me, Matteo?” he’d been lost in his thoughts again, unsurprisingly. It was something he’d been repeating lately, and usually blamed it on him ‘mentally’ writing his songs. Sometimes, it was the truth; but most of the time it was an excuse to get Gastón and his mom off his back. Today was Delfi’s turn at enduring this lost lapse. “Matteo! This is a serious matter, you dick!” he’d laugh at the insult if it weren’t for her aggravated look. He was used to the annoyed, yet knowing look of his friend and his birther, but Delfi looked nothing but stressed. “Can you focus on what I’m telling you?”

Matteo threw her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Delfi. I was just-”

“I don’t even want to hear it! I just need to listen to me and tell me what the fuck is happening between you and Sol Benson!” Well, shit. She was even cursing now.

“What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely confused now. Delfi knew better than anyone that he wasn’t dating, and even if he was, she never cared about it before. His manager sighed exasperated, throwing a newspaper across the table, pointing to him to read it.

The sole headline was enough to make his blood run cold.

“Read it till the end.”

“She’s retiring?” Matteo couldn’t believe it. A million questions came to his head as he read the article, ‘why’ being the loudest. “I just- what?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care about her, Matteo.” She sighed again, passing her fingers through her head. “What I do care about is that they’re mentioning you as the responsible.” Delfi raised her hand when he opened his mouth to protest. “I know you aren’t. And I’d like to think a woman like her is strong enough to not let an idiot like you convince her to give up her career. However, this is bad because you’ll be crossed as a chauvinistic pig, and could seriously hurt the image the older fans have of you. We need to counterattack, fast, and I need you to tell me just exactly how close you are to Sol.”

“What for?” He was getting defensive, and Delfi could tell so, too. She softened her look.

“This is not about you being a heartthrob, Matt. This is about people judging you wrongly-”

“Are you listening to yourself? They already judge me wrongly!” Delfi pursed her lips.

“Okay, bad wording. Still, we can’t let them think you’re that kind of person either.”

“Can’t you talk to Gastón about it? Maybe he can-”

“We agreed to break the contract with most of the magazines and the heartthrob stories, but you can’t just sue someone for linking you as someone’s boyfriend. If this was an article solely about you, we could make an agreement with them but since it’s about her-”

Matteo frowned. “Can’t you talk about it with her team? You said you knew them, maybe you can work on something together-” Now she looked offended.

“What do you think I’m doing? This is why I citied you here, we’re meeting them in ten minutes to discuss it! And first I needed your stupid ass to explain your situation to me so we could have some ground but all you’ve done is daydream about God knows what!”

“Wait, what?!” he looked down at his sweatpants, and the semi-sweated t-shirt he’d worn to go to gym before the meeting, and he just knew his hair was a dishevel mess. He hadn’t even bothered with his contacts, so his glasses were stuck on his head unless he wanted to be as blind as a mole. He’d thought he’d only be meeting Delfi, and now- “she’s not coming, is she?”

“Who is ‘she’?” Delfi air-quoted, not getting why he was getting freaked out.

“Luna – Sol, she isn’t coming, right?”

Delfi scoffed. “Of course, she is! This is all about her, why wouldn’t she be here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he almost whined, jumping out of his chair to get his gym bag, and spray the shit out of his deodorant on his body. He didn’t have any hair gel, so his hair had to stay the same. He was really regretting not taking the time to fully showering before coming.

“Oh, so now you care about how you look at meetings?” He didn’t answer her, still busy with his gym bag. He was sure he had mints buried somewhere. “I take that you like this girl?” Matteo said nothing, but nodded the slightest. “I know the rumors aren’t true right now, but I really need you to tell me if you think they will. The earliest Gastón and I can come up with counterattacks to protect your privacy and hers, the better. Especially since her contract with her team will drop soon.” Delfi asked, her tone a lot softer and less teasing. She’d taken his wishes seriously, and he was very grateful about it. He was in good hands if shit ever hit the fan.

Matteo dropped his bag, and sighed a quiet ‘yes’. And then turned to her, louder this time, “I don’t want anything hurtful, insulting or degrading to be said about her. The less she’s mentioned, the better. If it means we must re-sign with them, and have them write me off as a playboy, then so be it. But not a bad word about her, Delfi.”

She smiled, her words comforting him a little. “If it’s in my hands both of you will be protected. Now, go tame your hair before your little star runs away from seeing it and turns into stone, medusa-boy.”

She was this close to picking up her phone.

The urge of checking her phone was eating her up but Luna was trying her best to avoid any type of interaction with social media in the last two nights, but it was proving to be harder than she imagined. After the news were out in the open she’d turned everything off; her phone, laptop, and tablet, burying them deep in one of Nina’s photography drawers so she wouldn’t be tempted to read her fan’s comments, or the articles magazines and newspapers were publishing on the web.

When her team called her early in the morning for a meeting, though, she knew something else had happened. They’d already discussed everything related to her retirement, and weren’t meant for another meeting for another three weeks, when she’d sign the remaining papers to break most of her commitments and contracts, with only the bigger ones left until she could find another lawyer outside of her management. Not that she didn’t trust them, but Mariano was more a “making business only” instead of “breaking business” type of lawyer.

“Still no news from Tamara?” She asked Nina beside her. Nina shook her head.

“She said she’d be meeting us there, to ask for Alzamendi and to not talk until Mariano and she were present.”

“Alzamendi?” She repeated, “does that sound familiar to you?”

“I think I might have an idea.” Nina admitted. Luna looked expectantly at her, urging her to tell her. “Pedro’s girlfriend, Delfina Alzamendi, is a head manager here.”

She frowned. “But she’s in the entertainment business, not in sports. Why would she cite us here?” Her eyes widened, “you don’t think…”

Nina shook her head rapidly. “No, no, no. Tamara’s better than that, she knows you don’t want to enter acting, she wouldn’t do that to you. I was thinking more that maybe one of Delfina’s clients could be involved.”

“But why would Ámbar contact me vía my manager? She has our house number, and Simón’s and yours.” Nina looked at her funny, confusing her. “What?”

“I’m not talking about Ámbar, L. I think this is about Matteo.”

His name made her scowl. She still hadn’t forgiven him for hanging up on her without an explanation, or a goodbye, and the guy had sent her to voice mail after she tried calling him back.

“He has my number too.” Not that he cared to use it again. Boys were stupid.

By now Nina looked amused, but grimaced after a moment. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”

“Seen what?”

Nina took her phone out of her purse, typed in her code and opened her phone’s browser. She was about to protest when she saw her type ‘sol benson matteo balsano’, but was quietened when Nina clicked on an article about Matteo being the reason she was retiring from skating.

“This. It started the morning you posted the news on Twitter and a fan replied saying you meant Matteo when you said you were following your heart. I think that’s why Delfina wants to talk to you and Tamara, because Matteo wasn’t left in the best position. People are crossing him as a controlling chauvinist.”

Luna was feeling dizzy. She had meant for the news to affect her only, but now she was dragging Matteo too. “People are saying this?”

“Mostly your fans, and uninvited activists, but yes.”

“He must hate me now, Nina.” She groaned, hiding her face with her hands. By now they were almost by the entrance desk, and a few of the people there stared her way.

“He couldn’t even if he tried, Luna, don’t worry.” Her friend cooed, squeezing her hand in comfort.

“His manager contacted mine, Nina. People don’t do that unless they’re strangers or you hate the other person.”

“I think you’re exaggerating a bit.”

“He at least has to be mad. If anyone said I’m the reason they’re quitting their career I’d be too.”

“Maybe, but not mad at you. The people saying this are mostly gossipers and fans you have no control over, Luna, don’t worry.” She nodded a couple times, trying to calm herself and the unnecessary guilt she was feeling in that moment.

When she finally felt calm enough, she dragged her feet to the lady behind the desk, asking her politely where she was supposed to go. The lady’s eyes shone with recognition, before asking her who she was meeting with; as soon as she said ‘Alzamendi’, the woman’s grin could have rivaled the Cheshire cat.

“Miss Alzamendi and Mr. Balsano are waiting in room 7. Go straight that hallway and turn left on the first corner, it should be easy to spot it, the numbers are big enough; they’re still waiting for Mr. Périda, and your team, though. Is there anything I can get you both to drink? We have black coffee – black, decaf, with milk, vanilla latte and moka, tea – chamomile, green, lemon ginger and berry sangria, hot chocolate – sweet, bitter, Spanish, Mexican, white and raw, lemonades – strawberry, mango and mint, sodas-”

Luna blinked a couple times, surprised that a) they had so many options and b) they made their receptionist learn all of them.

“Uh, do you have water?” Nina asked, interrupting the woman before she went on to list all their available sodas. The receptionist shut up immediately, pursing her lips at Nina for a second before nodding, then she looked at her, expectantly.

“A Mexican hot chocolate would be nice, thank you.”

“Anything to eat? We have a couple of restaurants delivered to us, if you’re hungry.” Before she could refuse, Tamara’s voice was heard behind them.

“Luna!” She smiled politely at her manager, nodding in greeting to Mariano. “I’ll have a latte and the sir will have black coffee, no sugar, please.” The older woman addressed the receptionist, who simply wrote it down on a little notepad. Tamara didn’t bother to thank her before she was dragging Luna – and Nina, who was grabbing her hand- towards the hallway the lady had pointed out before. “Okay, so; Matteo Balsano’s manager called me yesterday and requested to have a meeting as soon as we possibly could, that’s why I called you last minute, sorry. Are you aware of the rumors going around of you two?” Luna begrudgingly nodded, “good, I don’t have to explain it, then. Alzamendi didn’t specify why she was requesting us, but my bet is on the news hurting Balsano’s image of the perfect guy.”

“That’s what Nina told me, too.” Tamara’s eyes flickered to Nina’s.

“Good.” That’s all she said before going back to explaining. “More likely than not, they’re pissed. It could be the boy, it could be his manager, it could be the label. Or a mix of all. We already broke all magazine deals, so there’s not much we can offer to clean his name. We’re betting on his team acting up and choosing to clean it up themselves, while praying they don’t leave you dirty at all. Mariano can make up an agreement with his lawyer to even out and make it fair for both.”

“Do you think Matteo’s capable of going as far as dirtying up Luna’s name?” She could tell Nina was worried, and already feeling protective of her. Tamara shook her head.

“He doesn’t strike me as the type, but we need to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.” She told them honestly, finally stopped walking in front of a door. Before they entered, though, she looked at Luna straight on. “Listen, munchkin, when you enter that door you need to forget whatever relationship you have with the guy.” She was about to protest, but Tamara shook her head. “Just until we know where we stand. And who we stand against, okay?” She merely nodded. “Good. Are we ready?”

Matteo was sure those had been the longest – yet quickest, because he spent most of them rushing to make himself more presentable- ten minutes of his life.

The door opened, and the corner of his mouth went up at the knowing he’d see her in seconds. When she didn’t acknowledge him, the smile fell. When she sat down on one of the chairs and kept her eyes on the table, he frowned.

Was she mad at him, at the situation they were in? Was she sad? What if it hadn’t been her decision? Could that be why she looked so… not herself?

He was about to go to her when Delfi stopped him. Matteo looked at her, questioning why she’d done it, but she sent him a look that said ‘quiet’.

“Delfina,” the woman – who was part of Luna’s team, if his guess was correct- greeted his manager, a tight smile on her face. Then she turned to him. “Mr. Balsano, nice to meet you.”

Delfi sent her a polite smile. “Tamara, Mariano, it’s always nice to see you again.” He could’ve sworn he heard the man say, ‘is it?’ under his breath. “Miss Benson, Miss Simonetti, long time no see.” Wait, she knew them?

Luna looked up from the table, throwing a quick ‘hello’ to her; her eyes flickering for the shortest time to his face, before turning down again. His frown deepened as Nina’s friend answered Delfi’s greeting, more enthusiast. “Hi, Delfi, it’s good to see you again, too. I wish it were under, uh, better circumstances, though.”

He could tell Delfina was amused at her words, if her mouth twitch was any indication. “Straight to the point, huh? Sadly, we’re waiting for Matteo’s lawyer to get here first.”

“Why isn’t he here yet?” the man asked rudely, disdain clear as water on his face. Matteo felt attacked by his tone, and jumped at Gaston’s defense.

“I’m not his only client, sorry not all of us can afford to have a clear schedule twenty-four-seven.”

Mariano raised his brows. “Ah, yes, you’re right. Real jobs keep you busy. My bad.”

Matteo scowled at him. “How would you know? You’re jobless now that your client is quitting her not so ‘real’ job, no?”

“Matteo.” Delfina warned him in a hiss, pinching his arm to keep him quiet. He noticed Luna’s blank look turning into a small grimace.

Mariano was about to retort when Luna’s manager grabbed his arm. “Don’t.” Then she turned to Delfi, “I think’s it’s for the better to start discussing the elephant in the room, sweetheart. You can always update your lawyer when he comes.”

Delfi pursed her lips at the nickname, but stood up with a nod. “Fine. I don’t think I have to explain why we’re here exactly.”

“You understand this is not Miss Benson’s fault, right? This was a matter taken out of context by their fans and the media.” The man’s tone wasn’t exactly condescending, but even Matteo felt like he was trying to teach Delfi how to do her job.

Still, Delfi remained as calm as she could. “We do, as I’m sure you understand your client’s choices shouldn’t taint my client’s image, no?”

“He’s as tainted as you can get them. Aren’t ‘playboy’, ‘heartthrob’, and ‘ladies man’ nice ways of saying man-whore?” Matteo heard small gasps around him, but he was too shocked at the insult to notice whose gasps were from. Mariano looked smug. “If anything, he is the reason they assume conclusions. If your client didn’t have the image he has, our client wouldn’t have linked to him in the first place.”

That was enough for his friend to snap. “If your client had been properly trained to do interviews without making a mess we wouldn’t be in this situation at all!”

“Those articles had died down until both your clients chose to approach ours at a public event knowing there would be photographers all over the place! How’s that for trained?”

“Enough, Mariano!” His partner shut him up. The woman had the decency of looking ashamed. Delfi and him, though? They were pissed. “I’m really sorry, guys. This is not at all what we came here for and I apologize for my-”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Tamara.” Delfi interrupted her, “he does.”

Mariano pursed his lips, but spit out the apology anyway. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved just now.” Matteo clenched his jaw, moving his gaze to Luna, who looked mad, too. At whom, though, he didn’t know.

“As you know, all our news deals are broken. We have no control, or stance to negotiate with them anymore. So-”

“So, you want us to fix it for you? Is that it? Why should we, after the stunt your team just pulled?” Matteo almost growled, his anger rolling in waves through his body.

Tamara grimaced. “I was hoping we could make an agreement. I know we-” she pointed to Mariano and herself, “-haven’t behaved as we should. But this isn’t about us only.” She looked at Luna, whose frown and pursed lips were more evident now than before.

At last, she fixated her eyes on his.

“I’m not asking you to do anything for me.”

Matteo sighed out, “Luna-”

“No. Listen, if your image-” she scowled at the word, “- is so important to you I can ask Jazmín or someone else to interview me and I’ll tell them the truth.” Matteo almost choked up. Where was she getting at?

“The truth?” Delfi repeated, expectant.

Luna’s friend looked worried, now. “Lu- Sol, please-”

She looked at him, her eyes not wavering for a moment. “Y’know, that you’re not the reason of my decision. I’m sure your fans will be shocked to hear you’re not the center of my universe.”

“Luna, plea-” Nina tried to gain her attention, but she still didn’t move her gaze from him.

“And I’m sure they’ll be glad to know we’re not dating, much less friends.”

Had he been punched? He felt himself getting his breath knocked out of him. He barely heard her friend warning her. “Luna, stop. This isn’t you talking.”

“No, let her talk.” Matteo was proud he didn’t sound as hurt as he was feeling.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me now?” her sarcasm was throwing him off. Why was she mad about him not talking to her when she basically ignored him too? “Or do I have to wait another two weeks for you to answer me again?” Oh.

Oh.

“You’re mad abou-”

“Dude, no.” Was that…? When had Gastón arrived that he didn’t even notice? He felt his friend squeeze his shoulder, before palming it a couple times. “Don’t answer that, you’ll never win that argument.” He whispered, shaking his head in Luna’s direction. Then he turned to everyone in the room. “So, what did I miss?”

#soy luna #lutteo #luna valente #matteo balsano #my sl ff #my lutteo ff #soltteo #my sl au #queued bc uni

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