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florrickandassociates · 4 years

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TGF Thoughts: 3x10--The One About the End of the World

I did it, I wrote recaps for all of season 3.

Oooh, this ep starts off with the credits.

This is the season 3 finale, but it’s not written by the Kings. Maybe they were busy with Evil at this point? As I’ve mentioned before, Evil is very good. I am NOT a fan of horror, but Evil works for me for several reasons. If you haven’t seen it, you might be imagining it’s full of jumpscares and gore. It certainly has its fair share of jumpscares and gore, but they’re not the point. The show’s definition of evil isn’t just demons… it’s radicalized misogyny and slavery and racial inequalities. And, as you might expect from a show written by the Kings, evil manifests itself in misuses of technology quite frequently.

Honestly, I think I laugh more than I cover my eyes while watching. And, to be clear, I laugh because the show is funny. It’s quirky and bizarre, serious enough to be dramatic but light enough to be watchable.

It’s also got a central myth-arc (way more serialized and puzzlebox-y than TGW/TGF/Braindead) that’s as complicated as you want it to be. If you want to look for the hidden puzzle pieces (literal puzzle pieces!) you can. If you want to be an attentive but univested viewer, you’ll be able to follow the arc just fine. The arc itself is pretty simple and the Kings use recurring guest stars to build a web that pays off over the course of the season. So if you’re used to following a TV show with lots of guest stars-- and you all are, since you’re viewers of TGF-- the mytharc isn’t going to demand a lot of effort to follow.

Speaking of guest stars, you WILL recognize at least one familiar face per episode. And if you pay attention to the credits, you’ll recognize the names behind the scenes, too. I love it when showrunners collaborate with the same people over and over-- it makes me think they’re good to work with and look out for their friends.

Just finishing up the most recent season of Younger before I jump into writing this and there was a Liza/Charles scene giving me MAJOR Alicia/Peter in Death of a Client vibes, mostly because of her hairdo. Then I realized: both scenes were DEFINITELY filmed in the same place. I love it.

Confession: I don’t actually remember anything about this ep, except for the very end.

Kurt was working from home! He was prepping for 2020.

Oh we saw Julius leave the firm to become a judge? And here I thought it was a spoiler he was in a robe in the s4 trailer.

There is talk of making Lucca a partner! Yes! There’s also discussion of someone named Rosalyn, who I’m sure is great but also, have you met Lucca Quinn? But in all seriousness, if the writers want me to truly believe there’s another associate who can rival Lucca, they have to show it to me.

I do believe the partner who says Rosalyn would be better for the culture of the firm than Lucca, though. Lucca hasn’t shown herself to be that invested in getting to know her colleagues (aside from the two white girls), and I think (not sure though) Rosalyn is the one we’ve seen speaking up the last several episodes.

Jay is going to dig into Book Club more, and I cannot wait until this is gone.

Cookies shouldn’t have photorealistic faces on them.

Did they REALLY hire white guys for the mailroom because that consultant said to?

There is a very angry former client of RBL asking for more money from Julius. Blum put him up to it. Go away, Blum!

Now there’s a lawsuit to make it seem like RBL is exploiting all the police brutality victims they’re represented. This is part of Blum’s plot.

Diane accidentally answers a call from Marissa, so Marissa gets to hear all the gossip about salaries and partnerships.

Now there’s weird lightning. Not in the clear yet!

Oh RIGHT, there was that FaceTime defect. I forgot about it.

Lucca doesn’t want to know what Marissa heard, but she’s happy to hear more once Marissa’s started the conversation.

Is it possible for a man to say “ladies, we’ll get to you” in a work setting without sounding sexist? I don’t think it is.

Casually sexist judge likes Blum.

Oh hello Maia. Blum says Maia became “disgusted and quit” after seeing RBL’s methods. Well, that’s a lie. You’d know it was a lie even if we hadn’t seen Maia get fired, because in order for Maia to know the firm’s methods she would have to do work. (OKAY I WILL STOP BUT THIS IS THE LAST EPISODE WHERE I CAN MAKE JOKES AND I’M GONNA MISS MY PUNCHING BAG A LITTLE BIT)

Maia is using her mom’s name and carrying the portfolio Diane gave her, just to throw Diane off.

Diane confronts her about it and asks if this is retribution. Maia says it’s just “lawyering.” Maia could have gone to any other firm-- like, even Canning’s firm-- and I would’ve thought she had a point. I would say trying to throw Diane off is mean but no worse than what others have done. But Blum is so hateful and malicious Maia has no ground to stand on.

Maia says she’s coming after RBL because they’ve done wrong. She sounds like she’s convinced herself-- or maybe she’s gotten that good at lying. (It is telling that so many former clients would be willing to join this suit, though-- Maia isn’t wrong about that)

Show title spoken alert!

I am pretty sure the Diane/Maia scene right there is one I would have ripped Diane to shreds for if it had been her vs Alicia, and Blum wasn’t involved, because Maia’s being very practical (Blum is out to screw you; I am here for the clients) and Diane is on her high horse. Hell, maybe I’d even take Maia’s side if we got Blum out of the picture. But I hate him. And Maia’s on this case because Blum said so. She’s running his firm and working with all his clients; this one just happens to have a way to spin as doing good.

Kurt has to intro 45 and is drafting a speech. Diane doesn’t know yet, so she thinks his scribbled “the last two years have been amazing/brought me a new optimism” are about her. She finds out the real meaning for the scribbles and leaves the room.

Blum’s here again. I hate him.

Also RBL may have caught Blum and turned him in to the ACDB but Blum got disbarred all on his own by doing disbarrable shit repeatedly and knowingly.

Lightning balls. Weird.

Lucca asks Jay how she’s thought of. I feel like if you have to ask that question you’re probably not thought of as an integral part of the culture. This is a smart thing to show as Lucca’s weak spot. She’s never liked making friends. Lucca also worries she’s “not black enough” for the firm.

“Everyone likes you. Just, a lot of the associates think you never hang out,” Jay says. “So it’s high school? I don’t care about being popular. Who has time to hang out?” Lucca responds. That’s the problem, right there! Maybe this isn’t such a thing at RBL, but where I work, the partners always make a point of greeting everyone, sticking around at happy hours, etc. Part of their job is to create the culture. RBL doesn’t seem to have that culture, but I absolutely understand why some of the partners want it to.

And the “not black enough” comment is coming at least in part from Lucca’s tendency to surround herself with all the white characters when she does socialize.

“I do not have to prove myself to anyone, or perform what they think black should look like. This is 2019. I’m not playing this stupid fucking game,” Lucca responds. She’s right, I think, but I would also be curious to hear other perspectives. This situation feels pretty nuanced to me in that I think it can simultaneously be true that Lucca can act however she wants and shouldn’t be judged or typed for it AND that there’s a somewhat strong case against Lucca as a partner because of her engagement with her coworkers.

Does the fact that I like Evil!Maia so much mean I secretly liked Maia all this time???

Jay asks Marissa to help him create more diverse happy hours. And then it’s time for them to confront Book Club. Jay’s got some intel on Rochelle, who’s legit enough to have done polling for Eli. Overcharging a client 30% for a focus group seems like maybe not a big enough deal to blackmail someone with, but Jay tries!

Rochelle isn’t having it and tells Jay and Marissa, basically, that she’s going to escalate things.

Oh there are very many guns in Diane and Kurt’s bedroom suite thing.

Diane winds up writing Kurt’s speech for him by bullshiting. Kurt knows it’s bullshit. Diane’s writing a parody but it’s also not parody at all. “A parody but it’s also not parody at all’ is also true of the mindfuck that’s been the last four years.

Jay ends up doing drawings of cartoon animals to be used in court because the judge can’t understand anything complicated. One cartoon is Judy Giraffe, who may share a name with the toy Andrew Wiley’s kids had in late season 6 (but I’m too lazy to look it up and see if I’m right about that).

This also may just be Zootopia.

LOL there’s ASMR happening now. I could explain why but it’s more fun if I don’t.

This scene is hilariously over the top.

Maia was 12 in 2000. I feel like that’s inconsistent with other timelines we’ve been given but whatever.

Lucca awkwardly tries to socialize. Lucca immediately misspeaks by saying she thinks Obama probably wished that for one day he didn’t have to be “the black president” and her colleagues freeze up and push back.

Marissa then shows up and the scene ends. Awkward.

Now Blum’s hired actors to be disruptive in court. Ridiculous. I hate Blum. That said, this isn’t really any lower than Diane’s ASMR shenanigans.

Blum is singing now, goodbye.

I FORGOT ABOUT THE CORRUPT JUDGE ADRIAN WAS FUCKING.

So much COTW in this ep. Remember how it used to have meaning when the regulars got called to the stand? Like, I know this is technically character driven drama but it’s nowhere near as engaging as last episode’s internal investigations.

Rosalyn comes into Lucca’s office: she knows they’re up for the same partnership, and understands that’s why Lucca came to drinks. Rosalyn was informed by one of the partners, and as much as I like Lucca, Rosalyn is making quite a good case for herself by handling herself so professionally here. She comes to Lucca once she realizes the partners are pitting them against each other, “because that’s what people do to the black girls.” I want to hear more of what Rosalyn is about to say, but she’s cut off by BALL LIGHTNING. What the fuck? Now the power is out.

Rosalyn thinks it’s the end times. The red skies do suggest that. Lucca is unconvinced.

Diane pays Maia a visit. “So, you got what you wanted. A corner office,” Diane says. Had Maia expressed this wish? Or is Diane mocking her?

Maia says she knows what she’s getting with Blum, and “sometimes that’s better.” She isn’t wrong. But it’s BLUM.

Diane offers Maia her job back. No, PARTNERSHIP at RBL. HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. It’s hilarious enough in isolation, but the thought of Maia getting partnership over Lucca or Rosalyn (who both seem very deserving) makes it even worse. I think half of their staff would quit if Maia was made partner.

It’s more money and Maia is skeptical. She (wisely) guesses that she’d be forced out after six months, but Diane (has she talked to any of the other partners about this?) says that wouldn’t happen. “You’re trying to buy me out of my case,” Maia FINALLY realizes. Well, I guess it makes sense she’d believe she was actually deserving of a partnership after two years of half working.

Diane says it’s also because she impressed Adrian. Lol, okay. If that’s what it takes to make the suit go away.

Maia says she’ll think about it and asks Diane if it’s weird that they’ve ended up in this spot. Diane says yes and smiles.

Blum overheard the whole thing, naturally. He tells Diane that Maia won’t go with her. Now he is singing. Why is he singing. Why won’t he stop singing.

Liz does not like that Adrian and Corrupt Judge are friends. Why is Corrupt Judge here?

Diane watches Kurt awkwardly avoid clapping while standing directly behind 45. It is very funny and Diane enjoys it. Kurt is then removed from the audience, which leads Diane to say “Kurt, my God, I love you.” The incident makes the news almost instantly.

This Good Fight short has the characters in it. I imagine there’s a non-zero chance we get an animated, musical S4 wrap up given that they had to halt production.

It’s weird there’s a short that says the season is over, followed by another scene.

Lucca and Marissa discuss how Maia got the partnership offer. Why would Diane or any of the partners let that slip?! “Two black girls are up for the job and they give it to the white girl,” Lucca says. Marissa’s surprised she’s not angry, but Lucca explains-- she knows Maia’s not going to take it. Marissa thinks Maia will, but Lucca understands that Maia’s moved on.

Lucca no longer cares about the partnership because she’s realized “the best thing is to not care.” It’s almost like she was friends with Season 7 Alicia, who said this like twice an episode.

Then Marissa and Lucca drop acid in the office because the world is ending, I guess.

Didn’t the s1 finale also do this end of the world thing? A less apocalyptic version.

I think this Diane and Adrian scene may be a callback to that finale.

Diane posits that love and hope will get us through the endtimes.

Aaaah the case is still happening but I’m SO CLOSE to being done with season 3. I still love what TGF is doing, but its central devices and plots for season 2 worked so much better.

RBL wins! Diane notes that Maia hasn’t responded to their offer. Does that mean someone is still considering giving Maia a fucking partnership even though the case is closed? HA.

Maia points this out and Diane insists they really want Maia home. This is probably the worst judgment I’ve ever seen Diane have? She wants to bring her goddaughter who is three years out of law school on as a partner at her firm, OVER two extremely qualified black women? Even if Maia were truly the best lawyer ever, the optics alone are bad enough to make Maia a terrible choice.

Maia decides, instead, to head for D.C. with Blum. She gets in an elevator and sucks on a fentanyl lollipop, which, sure, why not? I think they offer her partnership purely so we the viewers can see she’s choosing to emulate Blum and she likes it.

BYE BLUM!!!!!!!!!! BYE MAIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I won’t really miss either of you, but also, what am I going to write about when I can’t complain about Maia?

And we’re back in the opening moments of the premiere, which, as it turns out, were a flashforward to this moment in which Kurt and Diane get SWATted seconds after Diane announces she’s happy and Kurt asks what could go wrong. I hope they’re both ok because I won’t be able to deal if they do anything to Kurt. (Or Diane but I’m less concerned about them killing her off lol.)

That’s a wrap!

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wannawrite · 6 years

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The Royals - PWJ

who?: Wanna One’s Park Woojin genre: 🌺 type: bullet point TW: gang au

blog navigator.

The Royals PJH | PJH2 | KD | KD2

part one / two

mafia! AU

what secrets does Woojin hide up in the clouds?

kind of a soft mafia! AU for a change of scenery. Thanks for requesting anon!! Hope you guys anticipate more.

disclaimer: pictures used do not belong to me and credit goes to their original owners everything that is written here is purely fictional DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERING

Park Woojin

code name: 6

nickname: Sparrow

by his friends and enemies alike

he’s deadly quiet, demure even

Woojin is the pilot in charge of The Royals fleet of private jets

no one has a clear headshot of Woojin as he always has on a dramatic fighter jet pilot’s mask

rumour has it that he’s only a boy of 20 years of age, has taupe coloured skin kissed by sun rays and a key identification factor

his snaggletooth

but that’s the only word on the street

Woojin was the most low-key member of The Royals, keeping his profile low and head hidden

no wonder he was called Sparrow

always flying off before anyone’s hand could clasp around him

fast

nimble

brown haired

speckled

another gossip column mentioned he was a good friend of Lee Daehwi, another member of The Royals

and that was how he became a key figure of the secret society realm

Woojin had always dreamt of being a pilot

when he was young, he had wanted to be an airforce pilot

lol how things have changed

his mother was a head officer in Incheon’s flight control tower

that was where the influence came from

his father had been a pilot

a little love story bloomed from there

obviously, they married and had two children

it was a happy family of four, all enthralled by the idea of jetting through the clouds

one day, a tragic accident had claimed his life

Woojin was a bit too young to remember specific details but he had a calling to fulfil his late father’s legacy

he wanted to succeed his father’s wish for him to continue flying planes

a national airforce fighter jet pilot would have been ideal

but he was happy to settle for the position of head pilot of Seoul’s notorious mafia

Woojin was sent to pilot school when he was a middle school student

only when he was a high schooler did he start practicing and honing his skills with real planes

small delivery planes that is

cute

Woojin was the kind of guy who took photos with every plane he had piloted

every single one of them were kept in an album in his mother’s house

yes, his cute snaggletooth was featured in ALL of them

his sister would scrapbook some candids and send them over to The Royals HQ in Seoul

sparrow’s scrapbooks were the talk of the town

Woojin was in charge of a lot of things

excessive things

almost too much

but he loved his job and lived for the thrill of flying

whether it was a goods plane, passenger plane, he just adored piloting planes

oh and it wasn’t exactly hard to renew his license when he had contacts in the business

occasionally, Woojin traveled back to his flying school to assist teachers

or take more classes since he is 20

still gaining knowledge

well, that’s how you got to know him

when you were young, your grandfather would tell you stories of the days when he was a fighter pilot

a pilot

he met your grandmother during his flying days as well

fascinated by his stories and tales, you too were determined to pilot plane

it was difficult

your parents did not favour this idea and your grandparents were your only supporters

in secret, they coached you on whatever knowledge they had

wings, propellor...fly!

you spent hours and hours poring over ancient plane encyclopedias, enriching your mind and spurring on your motivation

and then one day, your grandparents came home with an enrolment letter

into pilot school :D

you screamed and cried with joy

then worried about how your parents would react but your grandparents gave 0 f*cks

they the realest

‘just go, we know people there who will treat and teach you with the best of their abilities.’

and so you started to attend classes in secret

hehe hehe

it was all good

your coach loved you

your love for the planes and even theory classes was unexplainable

not one of your parents knew what you did almost every day after school

until you nearly crashed a plane and were severely hurt

that’s when your parents found out and damn...it wasn’t exactly a pretty scene

the amount of yelling and screaming was enough to shake the whole hospital

you had cried so much that the IV drip had to be replaced TWICE

idk if its a thing but it now is

though it took some time, they finally opened up to the idea of piloting

they managed to see things from a different perspective and wrap their head around it

and now they fund your studies :D

okay, so now the fun starts

you knew Woojin as Park Woojin, the guy from pilot school

your classmate

who is kind of too advanced for your class

Idk what game he playing

if someone asked you about him, you would say y’all talked

but not a lot

considering his attendance had been quite hectic and intermittent

and you did hear some fishy theories about him from the gossipers

Jenna claimed that he worked with the local gang, operating planes so he could import drugs from overseas

sounds a bit dumb but believable ??

you don’t trust Jenna anyway

but her words linger in your mind, unable to dissipate

just simple, harmless gossip

another source stated Woojin was a spy for the FBI, making sure not a single soul could leave the country so easily with their own plane

crazy

how much time do these people have?

you noticed that Woojin was close to many of the staff and instructors

definitely not trying to start your own theory here

he was a person to be curious about, intriguing

just your luck, Woojin ended up being your flying buddy for a term

idk hOw thIS WORKS SO IT GONNA WORK THIS WAY

quite an awkward pairing if you must say

but your instructor liked how you trusted your theory work and equipment, eyeing every reading carefully

he thought it would be a good match for Woojin, who trusted his own instinct but was a firm and steady pilot

day one: silence filled the space between the two of you

the instructor gave y’all an hour to read the manual, study, bond whatnot

yet, half of that was spent buried in books and theory videos

safety books

going over basics

reading about gear care

even though you knew Woojin was an expert in those aspects

there was just no talking

shhhh

quieter than your school’s library

that was most people’s impression of the quiet and cunning little sparrow, tricking people into thinking he’s demure and secretive

see, that’s how all those ludicrous rumours are born

finally, you just HAD to engage in conversation

THE SILENCE WAS JUST TOO STRANGLING

but he was hard to talk to

woojin barely said three words before the conversation lapsed

you pressed your lips together, unsure of what to do

you started to scribble, drawing cartoonish planes and clouds

that was when Woojin commented that your plane looked more like a bird

‘pfp...see if you can draw any better,’ you challenged

Woojin took another pencil from your case

‘Try me.’

And so that’s how you spent your ‘study session’

Since you do have quite a competitive spirit

You brought a whole ass portfolio of drawings the next day

Just so Woojin could get a taste of his competition

Banter, banter

After leafing through yours, he pulled out his own digital file of sketches

And his own little scrapbook

+2 for artistic talent

soon, the piles of non-work related books were growing in your locker

there were a couple more pencil scribbles on the picnic table

other students found rough paper with sketches almost everywhere

even on mock test papers

eventually, your instructor realised something was terribly off when both of you failed the month’s test

as punishment, you guys had to do clean up duty

and more homework

taking away your hands-on flying class for a month

but it was fun

partners in crime play together

partners in crime die together

so slogging after class was much more enjoyable in the company of each other

plus, the ice cream feast after was always rewarding

you guys would purposely take a long route to the bus stop to pick up convenience store ice cream

woojin would try to convince you that his flavour choice was much better

time was killed with the playful banter at the bus stop

many times you found yourself wanting to ask about all the rumours circulated about him

but you realised that Woojin was that kind of guy who would make a joke out of it

and take words like those lightly

bonus!

he had a great sense of humour

variety king

days resembling those wore on

but you were never tired of them

and it seemed like he wasn’t either

every occasion was constantly different from the previous one

another flavour of ice cream to sample

more areas to ‘clean-up’

messing around with the coaches

days at the academy were always divergent

so it was weird when Woojin didn’t show up one day

that time you managed to shrug off the anxieties and assumptions

then, he disappeared for two following days

that you definitely couldn’t ignore

you didn’t attend the same school as him and no one else at the academy knew him very well

when coaches were questioned, they seemed uninterested but assured of his safety

‘Don’t worry,’ said your instructor. ‘Woojin knows his way around things. Perhaps he just hasn’t been feeling very well.’

mhm

you watched how his irises flickered from yours to the surroundings

and back

any trace of uncertainty was erased when you took a second glance

‘Anyway, I have his assignment folder. Could you pass it to him for the summer? Thanks.’

‘Make sure it gets to him safely. Don’t pass it to a third party.’

his footsteps quickened as they grew more and more out of earshot

you scoffed in disbelief, feeling the effects of being alone while everyone else was buddied up

how were you ever going to find Woojin?

His mobile phone was turned off too

or he just wasn’t responding to your texts

you: hi woojin

you: I have your work file

you: can we meet so I can pass it to you?

you: you okay? haven’t seen you in a while

woojin hadn’t read those messages

Sighing, you closed the application and continued with your classes

forcing yourself to pay attention to content was harder when Woojin wasn’t around

every moment you swore that your phone buzzed in your pocket

unfortunately, it was just your imagination

there were no texts from him even at the end of the day

you fell asleep that night with an uneasy heart full of worries

woojin: yeah of course

woojin: Thanks btw

woojin: sorry about it

woojin: aha you won’t see this asap since its 2am

woojin: but tell me where to find you tomorrow

what a debonair comment from him

is that even an adjective to describe a phrase?

your face feels a bit warm

stop making a big deal out of nothing!!!

you: how about 11am at the Starbucks near my place

you text him the address

shockingly, Woojin’s response is immediate

Woojin: see you :)

a smiley face

what does this mean?

he’s happy to get his work, that’s what it means

calm down

the red alarm clock reads 8.30am

there’s time to freshen up

there’s also time for you to imagine every possible outcome of this meeting

which is taking place outside of class time

would it be awkward?

strange?

don’t overthink this

after much deliberation, you make it to Starbucks 15 minutes before the agreed time

all is calm at your seat near the window, drink on your table

and clutching Woojin’s file so closely as if it would grow legs and run away

then, two young men approach your table

‘Hi,’ one of the voices said. ‘You’re here for Woojin, aren’t you?’

you’re hesitant to answer, wondering what sort of relationship Woojin would have with them

your reply is cut off by the other guy speaking

he chuckles

‘I’m Jeno and he’s Jaemin. We’re Woojin’s friends and he sent us to collect his work,’ he says.

you observe how he hides his hands behind his back, how he presses his lips together too often

liar

Don’t give it to a third party

pass it to him personally

Jaemin’s hands reach for the file. ‘Now if you just-‘

‘I don’t think so.’ Your words slice through the tension. ‘Woojin is supposed to collect it from me himself.’

The message sent is clear

Don’t f*cking touch this file

Jaemin’s jaw seems to clench while Jeno begins to crack his knuckles

‘Well,’ Jaemin begins, his arms retreating. ‘Woojin has something to attend to so he called us to get it. It was a last minute arrangement.’

Jeno scrolls through his phone, pulling up ‘Woojin’s’ texts

The messages are indeed are from a contact called Woojin, he lacks an avatar though

‘I’ll message him right now.’

however, messages from him rain in

Woojin: hey if anyone with the names Jaemin and Jeno talk to you, get away

Woojin: i didn’t send them, we don’t get along

Woojin: even if you don’t encounter them, I need you to go home this instant

Woojin: I’m so sorry, I can’t meet you today

his texts confirm your suspicions but now you’re curious about his relationship with them

How long could teenage boys hold grudges for anyway?

you: i’m talking to them rn

you: ...what should I do

you: jaemin’s pretty adamant about getting your stuff

Woojin: shit

Woojin: one of my friends is nearby, his name is Jaehwan

Woojin: go with him

Woojin: now, go to the barista and tell them you want a cupful of whipped cream with chocolate sauce

you look up from your phone, a bit taken aback by the information

your guard is well up now

‘Well?’ Jaemin almost hisses before he catches himself

‘Hmm, I’m waiting for his reply. He wants me to order him a coffee.’

your heart wants to thump out of your chest

even your lips begin to dry

something just isn’t right

your brain and body aren’t reacting positively

As the last word leaves your lips, the barista whispers into a well-concealed in-ear

out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of the employees ripping her apron off and tossing it into the bushes

she was outside of the store, clearing dishes from the outdoor seating area

when she draws close, she makes a noise about not seeing you in a long time

but her eyes watch Jaemin and Jeno in the back

It’s to throw them off

Good plan

who came up with it?

the two mysterious boys grow increasingly irritated

it shows clearly in their actions

furious whispers

side glares

constant drumming of fingers

the girl’s eyes flicker over your shoulder for barely a second

an unnoticeable look

‘Jaehwan’s here,’ she says just as the bell chimes

‘You’re in good hands now.’

her smile is genuine and so is her embrace

you and Jaehwan don’t even exchange a slither of a greeting

in fact, you can’t catch your breath as the same lady ushers you out through the kitchen door

it’s only a matter of seconds before Jaemin and Jeno are alerted of your disappearance

that’s when their rage would be on the loose

Jaehwan frantically bundles you into a nearby car

honestly, you aren’t convinced he’s the best company

perhaps better than the previous Js

‘Where’s Woojin?’ you heave out. ‘I need to talk to him.’

Jaehwan begins to exit the parking lot, sunglasses on.

‘Sorry, reaching him will take a while. And, sorry for the suddenness of everything. You must be...surprised.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ you blurt out. ‘I’m utterly confused and terrified!’

‘I don’t even know where I’m going and who’s taking me!’

all your emotions are in a jumbled mess

being with Jaehwan feels like sitting in a lion’s den but with a metal cage surrounding you

safer but not wholly

staying with Jeno and Jaemin would mean the lions would have devoured you before your feet even reached the bottom of the pit

Woojin didn’t answer any of your calls

Jaehwan notices your hopeless attempts at contacting your friend

‘I’m sorry, he isn’t available at this moment.’

‘And why the hell not! He told me to meet him! He doesn’t have any plans! He could’ve come to meet me! I just want to give him his work file!’

The outburst makes you feel a ton better

Like the bag of bricks, you carried had been carrying was thrown at someone you hated

Suddenly, the road sign reading ‘Incheon Airport’ catches your attention

especially when Jaehwan seems to be en route

‘Why are we headed to the airport?’ You question, unsure if you want an answer

‘We’re going to see Woojin,’ Jaehwan replies casually.

‘W-w-we’re going out of the country?’ The stutter is inevitable

Jaehwan appears to furrow his brow as if puzzled

‘Um...yeah. Jihoon and Sejeong will deal with your accommodation,’ he informs, not that it is very helpful

Who and who?

‘Does Woojin even tell you anything?’ Jaehwan asks as he drives to the airport carpark

He shakes his head in disapproval when you answer with a ‘no’

‘I don’t have my passport,’ you say

your words don’t even affect Jaehwan, he simply says that a Kang Daniel has got you covered

again, who, what and how?

‘C’mon. Let’s go. I’m sure Woojin has all the answers to your questions.’

Jaehwan pushes your back, urging you to move quicker

‘What the hell,’ he curses under his breath. ‘Hurry up, I see...uh, J and J allies.’

there isn’t time

Plus, you don’t have the courage to turn around and glare them in the eye

Contrary to your assumption, Jaehwan skirts around the ‘Private Jet’ counter and settles for a commercial flight queue

he says something about it being too risky to dispatch one of his company’s private jets

the jets come as no shock

After all, Woojin does needs his planes

it’s likely his close friends are all like-minded and share the same interests

Jaehwan speedily dashes for the ‘First Class’ row

he speaks to the counter staff in such a quiet tone even you can’t decipher his words

‘Don’t worry about your passport, I have connections.’

don’t actually do this!!!

that makes your stomach clench and twist with nerves in the most horrid manner

somehow

your passport appears

it isn’t a replica, it isn’t a faux document

it’s in the flesh

...did someone break into your house?

‘Yeah,’ Jaehwan answers your unspoken question. ‘Of course someone stole this from your tabletop. You need to get better security.’

you face blushes red in embarrassment

'I’m a pilot,’ you manage a counter attack

your new friend only chuckles

jumping snaking immigration queues is something you could accustom yourself to

ahhh, the luxuries

soon, you’ll be able to join the ‘CREW ONLY’ line

Before you know it, you’re seated in the first class section of a reputable airline

woah

this is new

you don’t want to know where Jaehwan or Woojin or whoever has the money to pay for all this

then again, these people own a fleet of private jets

Jaehwan advises you to chill and enjoy the flight

but the bundle of nerves only tightens in your stomach

You’re on your way to Hong Kong

with a small bag of essentials and the clothes on your back

Jaehwan’s in the same situation

yet he seems so used to it, there’s no point being anxious

tbh you’d rather pilot the plane than ride in it

why would Woojin be in Hong Kong?

did he fly there on impulse?

does he even know the route?

he did just receive his pilot licence......

no, he couldn’t possibly

it sounded like a hasty getaway

A sudden change of plans

as if he was in trouble.....

Who are these people Jaehwan mentioned?

Is Woojin hiding anything from me?

Of course he is! Jaehwan knows but he feels that only Woojin has the right to tell me

besides, he’s asleep

how can he be sleeping at a time like this?

it’s barely 2pm

the day is going just fine

hopefully, things start looking up from here

Hong Kong...

Woojin...

I’m coming for ya

#Admin L #wanna one #wanna one scenarios #Produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #park woojin

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hellotinywonder · 6 years

Text

(re)Generation 2018: meet your heroes.

DAY THE FIRST, Wednesday:

Snow. Darnit. I’m going delay my trip a day.

DAY TWO, Thursday:

I got up at 5:30a, trekked down to my conveniently already-packed car through the snow, but the streets were clear, and I began my drive westward and northward. Dawn over snowy mountains is spectacular.

I visited with puppeteer friends in Richmond, saw their local makerspace, and hung out with an old friend from my touring days and her new dog, Dave, a rescued sweetheart from Puerto Rico.

DAY THREE, Friday:

Off to DC, with literally NO traffic. I had brunch with the incredible JoJo (Burlesque Poetess), who is a Doctor Who nerd of equal or greater value, and extended bandfamily from ten years ago. It’s been so great to reconnect and talk art and ideas and nerdy references. And how we engage with the universe, and how sometimes the universe engages right back.

After brunch I headed to visit my friend Matt and his wife. It was great. I met Matt a few years ago at a convention, all because I had PuppetCapaldi with me, Matt used to write and draw for Doctor Who comics, and has since become one of my closest art friends and advisors and person to send random texts to in a crisis. Good people, but this is the first time we’ve hung out in person since our initial meeting. It was great. A few hours later I was off to Baltimore.

It took 3 hours. Which didn’t mean much to me, as I don’t drive DC to Baltimore often. But yes… I later learned it should be a 45 min trip. I parked eventually and made my way to the hotel for ReGen. I knew only one person going in, and I promptly sought him out: Drew Meyer. I snuck into the back of his panel (it’s worth mentioning that I met Drew the same day I met Matt, and PuppetCapaldi did those introductions too) and tried to use context clues to make out what it was about. I got as far as Drew referring to the Tardis as “sort of like a windowless van”, when I abandoned that notion and decided I’d just make a note of it, so I could mock him in my end of trip summary… like… now.

After touching base, and handing off my puppet suitcase (Drew was storing it onsite so I could attend the March for Our Lives the next day without needing to worry about a giant rolly-bag and crowds) I caught Irene Richard coming out of the panel she had just hosted with Rachel Talalay. I feel like I’ve known Irene for years, I think it’s how decidedly New Yorker she is, but this was our first time actually meeting. We hit it off, as I knew we would, and then by some twist of awkwardness and fate, I was standing at a table with Rachel Talalay admiring a scribbled storyboard movement sketch. I love things like that. Process-peeks. I realized I didn’t have anything to say to Rachel (aside from the whole: You’re awesome, inspiring, and your eye is fantastic), which is bothersome, because I’m a fairly interesting person at times, and I want to learn so much from her, she’s a powerhouse in the industry I am just starting to dabble in, and am always keeping an eye on. I didn’t have any puppets with me to reinforce that I make stuff, etc. That’s fine, there was a whole weekend ahead.

I skipped out to dinner with Drew and his friend Brent, and shortly after went home to my friend’s house, where there was a party.

The party, I won’t get into too much, but I walked in and it was like knowing everyone. They were activists, peers, they had a prison letter writing campaign going on in the dining room. I had such a wonderful time meeting everyone, it was a completely unexpected bonus. I miss my punkrock anarcho activist friends. Good to see organization like that in Baltimore. I slept in a room with multiple accordions. Perfection. Thank you Jonathan for your hospitality and your excellence.

DAY what is it now? Four? FOUR, Saturday:

I got up early, mostly because I had been and would be antsy about giving my panel on puppet and prop-making that night. No one else in the house is up, and I need coffee and to get to the March.

I get a Lyft to town, remembering seeing a Starbucks a block or two away from the hotel. I’m traveling with just a little backpack and my travel mug as my puppets are stored at Drew’s so I get out and head off to it. *Normally I’d avoid Starbucks and hit up a local cafe, but the Baltimore Harbour is rather commercialized I couldn’t find an indie place to scope out. I was not alone in this…

I walk in, an amalgamation of bleary-eyes and nerves, and to my left I see a familiar figure and hear a voice, and at first I dismiss it, as I don’t quite place it- holy damnit. It’s Peter Capaldi. ***Now, I am going to stop you here. Peter Capaldi is a big deal to me. I met him last year, PuppetCapaldi in tow, and some friends got me to make a 24 hour comic about it. (It’s here https://tinyurl.com/y9cfma2t) worth a read, and it’s flipping cute, and I might reference it once or twice more.***

He’s talking with Rachel. I make my way past them, because they are having a conversation and the day is young, and I am about to go shake my fist at government, and I need coffee and… While I’m waiting in line, they finish their conversation and get up. Fine, universe, I might as well, I wanted to reconnect with Rachel anyway, so I do. I say hello, I explain that this is a very bizarre and rather delightful start to my day at least. Rachel introduces me, Peter shakes my hand. “I’m Peter.” “Valerie.” We talk for a short while. Peter grabs my travel mug and inquires about my Scottish flag sticker with EU stars super-imposed. I explain that, while I am not from the UK, I’ve kept up on Brexit and I talk about meeting with the remainers outside of Westminster, and when I was in Glasgow- Glasgow? Oh yes, and then I point to the sticker next to it, which is a map of one of my favourite cities in the world: Glasgow (my travel mug is adorned in stickers from places I’ve been recently, namely Glasgow and Berlin, and Tokyo…) Peter doesn’t quite recognize it, so I point out The Clyde, and it clicks. “Oh!” He says, then we start to talk about Glasgow. It’s brilliant. He points to a place on the map and shows us: “I have a flat right around here.” I show him where I stayed, across from Kelvingrove. “Oh, that’s the West Side.” He’s right, but I act jokingly incensed. Glasgow, Glasgow, Glasgow, and then it’s time to go. We say our goodbyes. And they are on their way and I will see them later and…. I need coffee.

I walk back to the hotel a few minutes later (to set eyes on puppets, make sure everyone’s all set, and tuck them away at the Pixel Who booth, who have lovingly adopted us for the weekend), glowing. It occurs to me I just got to talk to Peter Capaldi about Glasgow. Not Doctor Who, not The Thick of It, not Puppets, just Glasgow, a city we have a mutual fondness for. This is somehow the best thing ever.

Okay, get your head together, Valerie. It’s time to go to the March. So I do, it’s about 4 blocks away, an easy walk and the whole time I’m overwhelmed with what today might end up being like. The March is indescribable. I went to the local Baltimore version, knowing DC would be too much to contend with if I am to teach a puppet workshop that evening, but I believe it was worth stepping out wherever and being counted in the hundreds of thousands of people demanding better gun control in the US. Kids are on the microphone, empowered by their peers, and finding their voice, and demanding their safety, and I’m already just emotionally dilated and I begin to cry. It was such a powerful morning.

After a couple hours, I’m starting to fade. I leave the March, return to the hotel, get some food and grab my date, a 3 year old, beat to hell, semi-retired PuppetCapaldi. He is the goshdarn belle of the ball when it comes to conventions like these, especially when Peter is present. We go to a panel interview of Peter. As he’s my aforementioned ArtHero, I am terribly interested in what he has to say, but I don’t care as much about meta Doctor Who information unless it’s fun anecdotes of monsters and puppetry, of which there are a couple. The only thing I am interested in him answering related to Doctor Who is what was it like to make something like this in the world of Brexit or Trump, or how does Doctor Who intersect with our current reality, because sometimes it seems to offer direct commentary, and Saturday (with the March) was just a particularly important day. A sort of: did Doctor Who, the franchise, feel it has a duty of care, with how it couches its viewpoint in media, etc. I never got to ask that question, but someone asked one similar. His answer was lovely, talking about how ultimately Doctor Who is being made for kids, and giving them the globalist (universalist) perspective of The Doctor will help shape their thinking and the world as they inherit it. That world leaders should be afraid, because Doctor Who is communicating with the generations that will replace them. It wasn’t quite the question I had, but it was close enough. Thank you, whoever asked it. I looked for her after (she had blue wristlets), but never found her.

I ran into Rachel again after this, and donated to WhoAgainstGuns and got a lovely postcard of the (now dismantled) Tardis interior, which I love, a set I desperately wish I could have seen, could have been on, and I did try. She signed it to me. “To Valerie from Starbucks” and we talked about how we both ended up there that morning for lack of other options. I apologized for bothering them, but there was no need. It also caught me offguard to be remembered. That’s a long time problem for myself. I’ve written about it many times before. I am getting accustomed to the concept that people do in fact have object permanence when dealing with me. It’s nice to be remembered.

I’m about to go get our little family photo taken, when Michelle Gomez passes by and sees PuppetCapaldi she makes “the face” as I have come to call it. “Whaaaaarghourgh!” She yells as she’s rushed by. I make a note to find her later. She made the “I know that guy!” face, and I think she wants a picture with it.

I am currently, in present as-I-write-this day, realizing how darn wordy I am. I’ll try to condense. We have our photo taken. Peter puts together that I am me. The woman from this morning, but also that we have met before, once he sees the puppets. I let him play with the finger puppet, and before I know it we’re looking into the monitor (THEY HAVE A MONITOR, BLESS YOU!) and I’m talking about finding focus, etc. A photo is taken of me adjusting Peter’s arm while he stares down the camera, and then one where I look at the camera but he, and all puppets present, are focused on the monitor. Both are super adorable.

We’re removing puppets, etc and Peter says “You made all these, yes?” Oh yes. Someone prompts me and I mention the puppet I brought that is loosely based on Armando Iannucci, not that anyone would recognize it. “I would recognize him” Peter says. “Bring him by and show me.” So, that’s that. I’m off. A bit thrilled that I’m getting a reputation as the puppet lady. I mean, I’m certainly working at it, but attaining it is an altogether different feeling.

I’m sitting outside in the hallway playing with two little girls who were there for photos and talking to them about puppets and Sesame Street, and that sort of thing, when Peter and his folks pass us. The girls and I (and PuppetCapaldi) wave at them, and I continue to pack my photo into my Spacejunk sketchbook and then I’m alone in the hall. I head for the elevators and as I turn the corner I walk into the most wonderful scene:

Young Theo Tidemann (who I did not know at the time) has just started playing ukulele at Peter’s request, while we’re all waiting for elevators. Theo starts “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You.” It’s wonderful. It’s sweet. It’s about to get even better. Peter starts to sing along, then slowly we all do. A bunch of strangers, singing in impromptu harmony. It’s so magical. Singalongs are like my religion. That metaphysical energy of communion through song? It’s transcendent to me. Early on I realized that I was in a perfect moment, and I thought of this kid I was about to meet, and he deserved a video of this. So I juggled my puppets a bit and took some poor quality video with my phone, it pans up and fades out, and it doesn’t matter. It’s the perfect moment, and we can rewatch it anytime. (It’s on @hellotinywonder’s instagram… https://www.instagram.com/p/Bgt7jO8Ar25/ and BBC-A put it in an article about Doctor Who’s Day recently) Other things happen that day. I get a moment with Michelle, she takes a photo with PuppetCapaldi, but I’ve never seen it since. I am still looking for it. It’s a great exchange, though. Showing someone your art because they are excited about it. I’m pretty proud of that. I play ukulele in a room of other ukulele people… it’s ukubiquitous!

I sit in a dark corner and just breath a bit. I end up talking about puppets with the custodial staff, and it’s one of the most delightful conversations of the weekend. Throughout, I am adrift.

PUPPET PANEL! It went WELL! Kathy O’Shea David helped out and brought her army of puppets as well, I would go on, but really, it was mostly just me talking about puppets, how to build, what to use, asking questions, answering questions, and corralling a puppet petting zoo. Unexpected hit of the posse was Kyle the Fish! Everyone loves Kyle, I demonstrated my feelings on ventriloquism with him (when using a puppet, in my opinion, moving your mouth doesn’t matter, if your focus on the puppet is correct, and your manipulation is believable and you hit your lipsync, people will just accept it.) As I started to put puppets away, when my panel was over I looked up and saw Kyle, some kid was manipulating his mouth, and it was so moving. I make reference puppets like I do fanart, to expose people to the other stuff I do. Do you like PuppetCapaldi? He’s a portrait puppet, a skill I possess, and can do for anyone! Do you like this Rick from Rick and Morty? He has moving eyes, a mech I designed, and also use over here… People fell in love with Kyle, who is my very own intellectual property, and that meant the world to me.

At some point, I and my puppet rolly-bag float away to bed.

DAY I FORGET, IT’S THE LAST ONE, Sunday

I drive myself in this time, so I can scoot off when I’m done. Puppets stay in the car, with the exception of PuppetCapaldi, my date, and Armando, who I debate quietly… I mean, he’s janky, he’s not quite right, he’s not a portrait puppet, he’s just *based* on Armando Iannucci… do I want to show a piece to Peter that I don’t fully stand behind? I’ll decide later. I stuff him into my travel tote which I realize then is my tote from the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. I sigh. I am the biggest nerd ever, even when I don’t mean to be.

I have Coffee with the Creators. This is delightful. I get to pick some people’s brains, and let others just tell me about what they do. I am thrilled to get to speak more with Simon Fraser, a comic book artist for Doctor Who, I swear, I do collect them as friends, it seems. I also get to meet Steve Gostelow whose table I’d been eyeing throughout, but we missed eachother. He was a monster maker, and sculptor, and having a materials and process geekout was fantastic.

There’s a moment when Rachel is about to come to our table, and she has to get up and leave, we make this brief sort of eye contact and I realize as she’s headed out, that it’s fine. We’ll catch up later, that is such a strange and wonderful feeling. She tells me later she had to run up and get her photo taken with the three Doctors. Adorable. Flipping Adorable. I will see her again in a little over a month, and that is spectacular.

I am walking around the con, taking it all in and Peter and his small group walk by, I’m talking with my new fellow blue-haired early 30’s lady friend Gale at Nightengale Needles, and I look up and see him. I have nothing to say to him so I resort to my clown communication skills and make a friendly, but decidedly silly face.

It is returned.

This is a professional milestone, in my book.

Later I am in the vendor area, and I meet up with Simon Fraser and his family. We talk a bit more, he likes PuppetCapaldi (really, that puppet handled nearly all my introductions, it’s great). I am looking through his portfolio of work for sale, mostly because what he is selling is traditional blue pencil and ink, and I like just looking at people’s work, understanding how they develop a peice. Then I see the page. It’s 4 vertical panels of Osgood throwing her scarf to a falling Twelfth Doctor. She saves him. He is appreciative and grumpy. She looks like me. I’ve seen this page, I’m told it’s from a Free Comic Book Day issue, from Titan, I assume. I was eyeing a wallet made out of it on Etsy, I love it. I love the composition, the dynamics, the SHELOOKSLIKEMEness of it all. And here it is. Waiting for me.

I rarely buy things at conventions, but this page has been in my mind for almost a year? And I love it, and now it’s mine. And in some strange cosmic organization, it was always mine.

On my way out I touched base again with Steve Gostelow. I show him my “Celastic: Do It Old School!” button. While he didn’t use Celastic, he still appreciates it. We talk a bit more maker shop and it’s wonderful.

Okay, the last line for meet and greet and autographs. As I said in my comic, these are the people PuppetCapaldi was made for. We had time, and I struck up conversations with all the lovely people around me, especially this woman, Michelle, who gave me a clif bar. Smart folks. I showed her the comic, which gave her a bit of context into what was about to happen.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with getting an 8x10 glossy photo signed, but that is not where I am at. When people set down what they would like to have signed, I pulled out my do-not-lose-me-orange A4 #Spacejunk notebook and open to a random page. That is what I want signed.

When I’m about to meet Peter, again, I take off PuppetCapaldi, that’s not what this is about. The woman in front of me is having her Missing DoSAC Files book (one of my favourite books ever) signed “by Malcolm”. Peter pens a short, furious, and F-laden diatribe for her. She thanks him and wishes him a happy birthday. “Ah yes!” He says. “Thank you.” He goes on to sign a photo she had in her collection of signables. “You know, I’ll be 60,” he starts, “and when you’re 60 the government gives you a little pass. And I can take all the buses and trains for free.” The public transit junkie in me is thrilled. It’s always nice to have common geekery with the people you look up to.

Oh, then it’s my turn. Okay, then. I try to briefly and calmly (everything is madness around me) explain that I am here to ask him for some advice, or encouragement, that I, and many like-minded friends of mine are all at these weird professional empasses, and I look up to him, and have for some time, even this puppet has gotten me work out in the big crazy world of TV and Film. He smiles and grabs a blue sharpie (which I realize I had secretly hoped he’d use blue, despite the several black, silver, and gold sharpies on the table).

“Shall I make it out to you?” “Sure.” I say, (I mean, fair is fair, I’ll share the advice, but this is my letter, sorry kids.) “...I’m Valerie.” I continue. “I know.” He says and continues to write.

I’m again caught off guard at this display of object permanence. This hero of mine knows me. Knows my work…

He is writing, but stops. “Have you got your Armando with you?”

Ulp. More object permanence.

“Well, I mean, yes, but it’s not quite-” “I want to see it!” He puts the pen down. He’s written something about stars aligning.

I dig Armando out, explaining that he’s only *based* on him, for a show I’m building… I slip my hand through the secret hole in the sleeve, and lift the puppet’s head.

Peter makes what I have described earlier as “the face”.

He gasps, giggles, then buries his face in his hands. Armando looks around a little frantic, and a little jangly, scratches his head. Peter lifts his head, locks eyes with me, locks eyes with the puppet, and devolves into laughing. “It’s *so* like him!” he says. “I need to show this to him.” His handler takes our photo together. Peter explains “this one is special, this is for a friend of mine.” A woman who I guess knows Iannucci’s likeness also gets it and now she’s laughing.

“I’m going to send this to him!” Peter tells me while his friend takes the photo, “He’ll love it!”

Peter sits back down, again telling me how much Puppet Armando is like Proper Armando and recomences writing. He just keeps going, we’ve stopped talking, and it’s rather quiet, surrounded by the din of the convention. Sharpie on paper, scratching.

Someone behind me taps me on the shoulder and checks to see if I am doing okay. I tell them I am fine, and I am. I am perfect.

He’s stopped mid-sentence, and is just writing “work” over and over in the margins.

He finishes. Having filled the page, which is adorable. “There. Is that alright?” He asks. I tell him it is. And I thank him. “Good luck.” he says, handing it up to me. “And have fun.” (I will.)

“You are very talented.”

All of this means so incredibly much to me, I don’t think I can properly explain. I thank him again and look up. The rest of the world races back into my consciousness. Michelle, my new friend from the line, is only a little bit crying. “Are you crying?” I ask. “Maybe!” She says. And I realize she is, because she gets it. Because she read a silly little comic about this weirdo art girl who is just collecting advice, inspiration, and encouragement from the people she looks up to, and somehow today it’s coming together perfectly.

Empathy Abounds.

Peter and I say good-bye, and I’m off to put Armando away more properly.

(Oh, I also scurry back to the table to pick up Armando’s eyebrow which fell off. Peter looks up and I hold the eyebrow up to my own and it all registers. Such a puppeteer move, you guys.)

After that it’s just a farewell fanfare finale. I say goodbye to everyone and then I am off. Completely rejuvenated artistically, emotionally, professionally… I can’t describe it all, and I’ve been doing nothing but describing it all for seven pages of a google doc!

I drive through the evening and end up in Staunton, VA, just as the sunset turns to night, to stay with my friend before heading home the next day. We order Chinese, as she’s also just come back from performing and we are prolevel ladies that deserve a night in. We’re talking about art, and Fringe festivals, my weekend, and hers, it’s great to continue this creative thread outside of my Baltimore adventure. I open my fortune cookie, which says: “Watch for a stranger to soon become a friend.” That’s sort of how I’ve been living my life, as of late. We make more tea.

Pan Up.

Fade Out.

#doctorwho #peter capaldi #rachel talalay #regeneration who #baltimore #adventure #puppetcapaldi #fingerpuppetcapaldi #tinywonder #puppets

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talabib · 3 years

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How To Turn Failure Into A Valuable Experience

If you’ve ever had to do anything creative, you’ve experienced failure. It’s a necessary part of the creative process. But there’s more to it than that.

It turns out that when you look at how some of humanity’s greatest minds think of failure, they don’t think of it as an event to be overcome. They see it as a necessary part of the journey towards mastery.

This post explains why failure isn’t something to fear, but rather something to understand. How can it propel us forwards, to our successes?

Mastery has nothing to do with avoiding failure; rather, it’s about relentlessly striving for more.

When people speak about artists and athletes, they often use black-and-white terms, like “good” or “bad,” “success” or “failure.” Well, that kind of hierarchical language is deeply misguided, because failure can actually help you achieve mastery.

To understand why failure can be such an advantage, first we need to understand mastery. Mastery is about endurance, not perfectionism (which is bound up in how we want others to perceive us) or success (related to particular events). In other words, mastery is the unrelenting pursuit of a goal. Think of it like chasing something that can never be caught; it’s about striving for the impossible.

Digging a little deeper, consider the Archer’s Paradox as a metaphor for the process of mastery. The Archer’s Paradox refers to the idea that the archer will draw her bow and point her arrow in a way that's intended to account for elements that are outside of her control, like weather.

So, in a sense, the archer is constantly striving to control things that cannot be controlled. And like the archer, those of us who seek mastery also try to hit the target despite facing enormous trials over which we have no control

And since mastery is borne of this continual process of unrelenting striving, we shouldn’t even use the word “failure” to describe the difficulties we encounter on the path. Because as long as you keep working past the moment of “failure,” the event becomes a learning experience.

Not to mention, these difficulties (i.e. “failures”) can also be a form of motivation. As playwright Tennessee Williams said, “The apparent failure of a play sends me back to my typewriter that very night, before the reviews are out. I am more compelled to get back to work than if I had a success.”

For most of us, there’s a gap between what we have achieved and what we want to achieve.

Since failure is a misguided concept, how can we talk about unrealized achievement? Well, there’s The Gap, a term which refers to the fissure between what you have achieved and what you can achieve.

For instance, a young Hart Crane encountered The Gap when the esteemed poet Ezra Pound deemed Crane’s work “all egg” and no incubator. He meant that Crane’s poetry didn’t match his high potential. In other words: Crane was in The Gap.

Since anyone can fall into The Gap, what can be done to close it? Well first, start by creating a safe haven, a mental or physical space that protects you from criticism and allows you to take risks.

The playwright August Wilson created his safe haven in a restaurant. One time, while he was scribbling away, a waitress asked whether he was writing on napkins “because it doesn’t count.” In fact, that was precisely the case: Wilson wrote on napkins because it felt safe; it allowed him to keep striving without worrying about criticism.

As you can see, a safe haven can be immensely valuable for unleashing creativity, but this protected space also comes with risks. Because after all, when you shield yourself for too long, you often lose touch with reality.

That’s what happened to Pontormo, a sixteenth-century Florentine fresco painter who spent eleven years working on a portrait in isolation. After the work, neither he nor the painting survived.

The risks of isolation are one reason why, after creating a safe haven, you have to find a way to incorporate criticism and pressure. Composer Leonard Bernstein valued having the pressure of limited time: “To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan, and not quite enough time.”

For example, the author and neurologist Oliver Sacks was desperate because he hadn’t written anything for months. So, he gave himself an ultimatum: write a book in ten days or commit suicide. Nine days later, guess what happened? Sacks finished his book.

Near wins compel us to confront our limitations and push past them.

Have you experienced that sinking feeling that sets in when you miss the bus by just a few seconds? It can be extremely frustrating, especially if you have somewhere important to be. Although these near wins are excruciating, they’re also necessary, because they push us forward

This has actually been proven by psychologists Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, who found that near wins have a profound effect on our thinking, leading us to obsess over “what might have been.” The psychologists even found that the more frustrating the failure, the more it affects our behavior, motivating us to work harder.

For instance, consider Jackie Joyner-Kersee, who was one-third of a second away from winning gold in the 1984 Olympic heptathlon. Her near win had such a motivating effect that when she returned to the Olympics in 1988, she set a record nobody’s beaten since.

But a near win not only motivates us to achieve great things; it also shifts our perspective, focusing our attention on the process of striving and not the end goal.

Triathlete Julie Moss may be one of the best examples of this phenomenon. During the 1982 Ironman race, Moss had a six minute lead, but then she collapsed during the last half-mile. Although she could barely control her limbs – much less stand up – she still crawled through the last yards of the race, willing herself to push past the pain.

In other words, Moss’ focus shifted from her original goal (winning the race), to the how of the race – that is, how was she going to push past her pain to cross the finish line?

These kinds of near misses define our lives, because the path to the finish line is rarely a straight one. So we learn to keep moving forward, even when it’s a struggle.

In order to reach your potential, you have to surrender yourself to pain.

Near misses motivate us to push past our frustration and accomplish great things. Pain is another difficulty you may have to overcome on the path to mastery: That is, you have to accept and surrender to pain to reach your potential.

Since everyone experiences tragedies, setbacks and disasters, pain is inevitable. A lady was forced to face this sad fact head-on when her seven dear friends all died within a year.

This was obviously a deeply painful experience for her, but eventually she accepted that death is unavoidable. And once she accepted the fragility of life, she was inspired to find more meaning in each moment she had.

That’s how surrendering works: Once you accept your pain fully, you can finally begin to understand it – and then move forward.

The martial art Aikido is a great metaphor for this process. Aikido is all about using your opponent’s force against them, by absorbing their energy and redirecting it back towards them. Wendy Palmer has mastered this technique, making her one of the most powerful and fearsome Aikido fighters, despite being only 5’5”.

Just as Aikido literally trains participants to absorb hostile energy and transform it, we have to learn how to accept setbacks, surrender to their pain and transform the energy or emotions they provoke.

To that end, it’s remarkable how many great leaders faced painful adversity on the path to mastery. For example, Martin Luther King Jr., now renowned as a great orator, had to overcome a speech impediment. In fact, his verbal tic was so noticeable, he was penalized for it when he studied oratory in Seminary.

How did he overcome his impediment? As MLK put it, “Once I’d made my peace with death, I could make my peace with all else.” In other words, once he accepted the fact that life is fragile and painful, his speech impediment simply disappeared.

To get creative, embody the amateur.

If you want to accomplish great things, you have to allow yourself to experiment and play! This idea gets right at the amateur’s advantage – that is, the benefit of having more experience than a novice, but less than an expert. So, why do amateurs have an advantage over experts? Well, amateurs act for pleasure, not money or career-related reasons – and pleasure goes hand and hand with experimentation, leading to truly original new ideas.

To understand the benefits of experimentation, consider scientists Andre Geim and Konstantin Novoselov, who created the world’s first two-dimensional object (a layer of carbon found in graphite) and consequently won a Nobel Prize. This groundbreaking invention was a product of their “Friday Night Experiments,” which consisted of ludicrous experiments with low probabilities of success.

By stepping into the role of amateurs, the scientists had the freedom to play with ideas – eventually leading to a major breakthrough.

And this playfulness is why amateurs have an advantage over experts. The latter are burdened by the Einstellung effect: once someone has developed rigid routines, they are less likely to rethink what works and come up with new ideas. But this is a faulty mindset, because what worked once might not work again

We’ve seen that experimentation results in innovation, and so can playing in a childlike way. That’s why companies like Mattel encourage employees to play in the office, whether on carpets that look like grass, or in chairs that stimulate space shuttles.

There’s even a scientific connection between creativity and play. One study gave two groups of four-year-olds a toy. The researcher showed the first group how to use the toy, but didn’t show the second group. In the end, the second group spent more time playing with the toy and even discovered hidden features.

Ultimately, the study showed that playing intensified the second group’s curiosity, leading them to find more innovative uses for the toy.

On the path to mastery, cultivate grit.

Grit is the final piece to understanding the way failure and setbacks can lead us to mastery.

So what is grit? It’s having a thick skin in the face of defeat. Grit ties together ideas we’ve already discussed, like surrendering to pain and striving for mastery.

Taking a step back, it’s important to note that grit is different from persistence or self-control. Persistence is rugged steadfastness towards an end goal – like studying hard to pass your medical school exams and become a doctor. Self-control is more temporary – like resisting temptations.

By contrast, grit is endurance displayed over years. It’s about continuing to strive for mastery despite apparent failure, over and over again.

For example, the director of Iowa University’s world-famous Writing Program noted that the most successful writers were those who most wanted to become great – not the ones with the most natural talent. So in the case of the most ambitious writers, grit is a matter of continuous, unrelenting effort over time.

But grit isn’t only about making a continuous effort, it’s also about applying it towards mastery. And that’s why art is one of the best ways to learn grit. After all, art teaches us to constantly reassess ourselves, our work and our ideas – even as we continue to strive.

Consider that artists have to deal with criticism all the time. Well, successful artists have figured out how to use valuable parts of the criticism to improve their work, and discard the rest.

Imagine standing next to a painting you poured your soul into, while dozens of critics figuratively tear it apart. How would you respond?

In the end, having the grit to face that kind of criticism is what you truly need to succeed. So find a way to absorb all the criticism, pain and difficulties you encounter, and incorporate them.

Failure, as we know it, doesn’t really exist. When we confront what looks like failure, instead of bowing to it, we need to see it as it really is: a valuable learning experience. Because after all, if you want to accomplish great things, you have to find a way to transform your setbacks into motivation. In other words, you have to continually strive for more in order to achieve more.

Action plan: Next time you think you’re at rock bottom, tell yourself: “Great, I can only go up from here.” After all, although being at rock bottom might feel like a failure, it isn’t! It’s part of the path towards achieving your goals.

#How Turn Failure Into A Valuable Experience

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voightsgirl · 6 years

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crossfire: volume i - chapter 16

a/n i’m not a fan of this chapter, but it’s important and i wanted to have one more from jay’s perspective!! sorry for the cliffhanger, though!! i will try to upload another chapter this evening because i’ve been a little behind this week and next week i’m not at home for much of it, so i’ll make up for it!! :) & previous chapters can be found here

☆ fight for her ☆

"So that's it?" Erin asked, her eyebrows arched slightly. "No more paperwork or anything?"

The social worker, Sharon Macintosh, sighed. "It depends what you mean by 'it', Detective."

When Erin didn't respond, she continued.

"Since Avery is only in your custody for protective measures, yes, it is a significantly easier arrangement than should you be deciding to foster her for the first time, but you're not in the clear yet. I spoke to your Sergeant, and he's agreed to let me sit in at the district for a few hours each week when Avery is there – just so as not to spook her out or draw any attention to your residence while you're still working the case."

Erin nodded, trying to keep up with what she was saying.

"Speaking of your residence, I understand that you are cohabiting with your boyfriend, a … uh…Detective Jay Halstead?"

"I – yes. That's correct," Erin replied.

"Well, then, I'm going to need to meet with him separately before anything is set in stone."

"Okay," Erin frowned. "I don't see…"

"Ms Lindsay, you have to understand – normally, I wouldn't even consider this as a suitable placement for Avery. Leaving a fourteen year old witness to a murder with an unmarried couple who both work full time, long hours, one of which has a history of substance abuse and the other, not too long ago, was booked into the Chicago Med psychiatric ward for PTSD. Now –" she saw the brief anger flash across Erin's features and hastily continued before she could be interrupted, "-I've been doing this job for long enough now that I know that there's so much more to a person than what's on paper, and I can see that you and your partner are good people and that you want what's best for Avery. I have placed this girl in twelve different foster placements in the past four and a half years, and none of them have been so eager to actually help her as you seem to be. So for that reason, and that reason alone, I'm going to ignore what it says here," she tapped the brown folder containing all of Erin and Jay's information that she held tightly to her chest, and smiled at the detective, "and treat you as just another client."

Erin didn't even realize that she had been holding her breath until it freed her lungs and released a shaky breath.

"That being said, I'm going to need to keep a close eye. This placement may be only temporary, but I will not hesitate to withdraw my blind-eye and remove Avery from your care at the first sign of trouble, do you understand me?"

Erin nodded. "Yes, of course," she agreed. She made it look as though she had utter confidence in herself and her abilities to care for a deeply troubled fourteen year old, but she was so nervous inside that her palms had become all sweaty and she could practically hear her nervous heart ferociously pumping blood around her tensed body.

"You've spoken to your sergeant about arranging a placement at a new school for Avery, I hear," the social worker prompted.

"Yes," Erin told her. "I think that would be the best for her. A fresh start, you know?"

She nodded.

"Besides, I think I'll rest easier when I'm working if I know that she's surrounded by a safer environment and responsible adults," Erin added.

"What school are you planning on sending her to?" So many questions.

"Voight knows the Principal of Saint John's, and he owes him a favor or two."

"Saint John's, huh? That's expensive."

Erin shrugged. "Like I said, he owes Voight a few favors. Anyway, like you said, it's only temporary, right? I would never dream of sending Avery there long term – frankly, I think she'll hate it – but she needs the structure and discipline of a school like Saint John's, at least at first. Voight's arranged a place for the first few months. It's hers if she wants it. I'll drop her off myself each morning and I've asked the Principal to make sure that she won't be allowed to leave without either me or Jay there."

"And what if you or Jay can't make it?" she asked. Erin wondered if this was what it was like to be on the other side of an interrogation.

"Uh, one of my colleagues should be able to take care of it. Voight, maybe, or Burgess, if he's busy."

"And if you're all out somewhere on a call?"

"Sergeant Platt should be able to take care of it, or…" Erin thought for a second. Of course! She nearly slapped herself at not having thought of it sooner. "Will. Jay's brother. Or his fiancé, Natalie."

"Okay," she seemed satisfied. "Can I ask you to fill out these emergency contact forms for me?"

Erin raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said no more paperwork?"

To her surprise, the social worker laughed. "There is always more paperwork. You should know."

Erin grinned; Sharon seemed to be warming up to her. Taking the pen, she filled out a form each for Natalie and Will – thanking her lucky stars that her friends were doctors, and hoping that Sharon would be impressed – as well as one for Voight, one for Burgess, and, for good measure, one for Gabby and Casey, hoping that their experience with DCFS and the foster system from back when they fostered, and nearly adopted, Louie, would earn her a few extra points.

"Here," she handed back the forms, and Sharon took them, her narrowed eyes scanning the page to see that she;d done it correctly, before placing the papers inside her brown folder and snapping it shut.

"All done," she said lightly.

Erin breathed another sigh of relief.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Erin stopped short, nodding nervously.

"I think we should all go out for dinner tonight. You, Avery, Jay, and I. I'm going to stop by the district later to talk to Jay, but I think it's important to make sure Avery doesn't feel like everything is going on behind her back and that she doesn't have any control. I know I said I'd cut back on the normal house visits, but as long as you and Jay are there – you can ask your Sergeant to count this as overtime, bring your badges and your weapons, whatever – it shouldn't be a security problem, right? I've known Avery for years, so she's comfortable around me, and I just think getting her into a more neutral ground, such as a restaurant, is a better idea than anything on familiar territory, you know?"

Erin nodded. "Okay, but I'll have to swing it by Voight first. No promises."

"Thank you," Sharon said. "And just so as you know, I don't usually ask foster parents to bring guns to dinners out."

Erin laughed lightly, but stopped herself when she realized that the social worker had referred to her and Jay as 'foster parents'.

"Uh," she said. "We're not…foster parents. At least, not at the moment. We're just cops, doing our jobs, helping a person of interest in protective custody, right? Like you said, it's only temporary." But her voice was small and uncertain, and, in spite of herself, Erin found herself wishing otherwise. It's only temporary, she'd said, but she knew that she was reminding herself more than Sharon.

Something told her that the social worker was very, and happily, aware of the transience of the situation.

☆

"Jay Halstead?" A voice from behind the detective made him jump slightly and he nearly spilled the coffee that he had just made himself all over his hand.

"Yeah…?" he said slowly. "Who's asking?"

"Sharon Macintosh, from DCFS? I'm here to talk to you about Avery Murray."

Jay remembered the phone call from Erin earlier, warning him, and he jumped into action. "Of course!" he beamed. "So lovely to finally meet you," he offered her his hand and she took it gingerly.

"Mmm," was her only reply.

Damn, he thought, Erin had said she was cold, but…

"Well, can I get you anything?" he asked. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Just a glass of water will be fine," she said pointedly.

When they had settled down at the table in the breakroom like a proper interview, Sharon started asking the questions.

"So, I get the impression from Erin that this whole situation has been initiated by her?"

Bam! There it was. Straight in there, Sharon, don't hold back, Jay thought sarcastically.

"She was the one who extended the offer of help – and she came up with the idea of Avery coming to live with us, yes," he told her. "But she asked me how I felt about it before she made any decisions, of course."

"And what did you say?" she asked, after she had scribbled something down into her notepad. Jay tried to read it upside down but before he got a good look, she leaned forward on the desk, covering her notes with her elbows as she shifted her weight towards Jay and clasped her hands together. She had a tiny shrug to prompt his answer.

Jay swallowed. "I said that I support her no matter what, and that if she feels that she – we – can make a real difference to Avery, then I'll back her decision a hundred percent."

"Even though it could mean a thousand new problems for both of you, as well as all the strain that it would put on your relationship?" she raised an eyebrow.

Jay stared at her. This felt an awful lot like an interrogation. What did she want from him? "Trust me, I can handle a teenage girl. And trust me, Erin and I are not going to have any…tension because of this. Like I said, I support her no matter what."

The social worker shook her head. "It seems to me," she muttered. "That you two haven't thought this through at all."

Jay stared at her again. "Excuse me?" he asked, stunned. What the hell?

"Neither of you have the faintest idea what you're doing. I'm sorry, but I can't let Avery stay with you just because you want to help. She isn't a piece of furniture, you can't just fix her up using an instruction manual and then go on your way. And especially given your history, and not to mention Erin's –"

Jay was furious. His fists had balled at his sides and a vein throbbed in his neck, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to control his temper. "And what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded quietly, avoiding eye contact with her.

"I mean," Sharon sighed in exasperation, "that you can't seriously expect me to leave a fourteen year old girl in the custody of an unmarried, full-time-working couple, half of which is a recovering drug addict with priors such as possession and solicitation, whose mother is a convicted murderer, and the other half is a mentally ill cop who has also had restraining orders and allegations of excessive force!"

She was near shouting at him now, and Jay was absolutely fuming. The rest of the unit, who had previously been sat outside, engrossed in phone calls and paperwork at their desks – or pretending to be, at least, while they attempted to eavesdrop like the nosy cops they were – had now dropped any pretense and were openly staring at him through the glass.

"I'm sorry, Detective Halstead, but I just can't, in good conscience, grant you and Detective Lindsay custody of Avery."

She packed up her things, and opened the door, leaving it slamming shut behind her and Jay's heart breaking and stomach sinking because he really, really did want to help Avery out – seeing her shivering and sobbing and shooting up the previous night had been enough to convince him that she needed their help – but also because he couldn't bear the thought of having to tell Erin that it was his fault she'd have to send Avery back into the system again; his fault that Avery would think she'd been right the whole time when she said that they'd just spit her back into the system when they were done with her; it was his fault that Avery would lose hope and go back to hating the one person who was truly willing to fight for her.

Fight for her.

That was it.

Jay saw Sharon crossing the bullpen, and he saw his colleagues' eyes following her as she went, and he knew Voight was in his office next door and would see everything – and he didn't care. This was his only chance.

He flung open the door and stepped out into the bullpen.

"You're wrong," he spat. "You're wrong."

☆ ☆ ☆

thank you all so much for reading and supporting this fic!! if you’d like to be notified when it’s updated either head over to my ff.net account or message me and i’ll tag you at the end of the post :)

@allenting @sophiaxjesse @writteninthestarsandthesky @riverdaleangels@chillmydude @halsteadpd

#chicago pd #linstead #linstead fics #erin lindsay #jay halstead #cpd #mine #myfics #crossfire

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ourlaptopisbroken-blog · 7 years

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Kevin.

Okay so this isn't really scary, well in a perspective it might. I mean I was scared at first but I'm glad that I am nowhere near this guy. You'll see what I mean. It is the second semester of the 8th Grade, and every student in the school gets a schedule change for their 7th period class. I happen to land in a Keyboarding class, which is what the name suggests and you stare at a monitor for a full almost an hour without looking at the keyboard, practicing exercises for each letter, number and symbol on the keyboard. I hated that class, the only good thing about was if it was a Friday and the teacher would allow us to play measly old computer games on the prehistoric computers. Other than that, 7th period was not what I looked forward ending my school days. Especially because of this one guy. I remember meeting him on the first day of the second semester. All the students were outside the Keyboarding class waiting for the teacher to open the door as she was arriving late. We waited patiently outside, we couldn't use our phones as we were not allowed so people just picked up conversations. I decided to sit down on the pavement since the class took in an outside building, and I didn't actually recognize any faces. As I waited there, a very plump dude that was in my grade level walked up to me and took notice in the way I had my hair. He had pointed out that it was a bit too long and had asked if I have ever actually had a hair cut. I wasn't really hurt but mostly bothered that he had walked up to me just to insult me. I simply just didn't answer and the teacher had arrived and opened the for us to enter. After a week of having the freedom to sit wherever we wanted, the teacher had told us that we had assigned seats for now on. I didn't really care, and it didn't really affect me. There were very few 8th graders and they were all lame. The class consisted mostly of 7th graders so I kind of just did my practices and went on with my work. Surprisingly, I sat in the same corner just three seats away from the wall, and Kevin had been moved a few seats to his left, with a handful of 7th grade boys. For the longest time Kevin was always an annoying son of a bitch in that class. He never did his work, always talked very loudly (that class was very quiet), and always had the teacher scream her pussy out at him. I believe at one point he even had her driven her off so bad that she had sent him to the office. Even worse, he had arrived late so many times that once the tardy bell rang, the teacher had completely locked the door so Kevin would not enter and was forced to either go turn himself in the office or roam the halls. One typical day, the teacher screams at Kevin once more and moves him from his spot for like the 3rd or 4th time. He would have sat next to me if it weren't for a 7th grade girl that sat between us. Thank god. At least for a while I was very thankful of that girl, even though I never spoke to her. Kevin had become very quiet since he had been deprecated from his buddies. But he quickly adapted to his new environment and began hitting on that girl, and would often ask her very inappropriate questions. The girl would often ignore him and acted too good for him, so I don't believe that she was uncomfortable, probably disgusted but not bothered. Later on, that girl began to be very absent, and she would often have to leave early. Wasn't good news for me but I guess it was good news for kevin. Oh my god. If only I could describe the terror. This motherfucker, brat, epitome of annoyance, "Kevin", would not leave me the fuck alone if he had the chance to ever prey on me. He would never let me do my work. He would purposely cheer me on in front of the whole class for no fucking reason.(again the class was very quiet) At one point he even laughed at himself and then attempted to start a conversation with me. Kevin: "George." Me: "What." Kevin: "Do you like *hehe* pussssyyyyyyyy?" (I ignore him) Kevin: "George." Me: "Shut the fuck up kevin." It was like this for weeks, that girl probably moved or something because soon enough I was facing this bitch of human every single day. Gladly, he would be absent too sometimes, but this guy didn't even do his work so he had nothing better to do but waste his fucking time doing nothing but annoying me. One time, I was playing those really old computer games that I mentioned before, because I would seriously do that over keyboard practices. Kevin must have been pretty bored too 'cuz he was trying to be Nr. Fucking Picasso and draw something but gave up so only after a few scribbles and went straight to annoying me again. This time, he came in a more stealthy approach. He began staring at me with his mouth open, on the edge of his damn chair while I had my eyes locked on the computer feeding my virtual fucking fish while I comfortably rested on my chair.. not a single time did I have any eye contact with him that day. Then he began breathing too fucking hard on my neck. I fucking had it, I turned off my computer and just rested my head on the table. The more times he became absent, the more he seemed to not be ay school at all. I don't recall even seeing him around during the last few weeks of school. I had soon forgotten about Kevin. I moved to another district, and had not heard of him until recently. I have this friend, Anonymous. She knows about Kevin. We talked about him, and how weird he was. We had established on the fact that he was a fucking freak. She told me about last year in the 9th Grade that he was getting really close to her and tried to block her from the door as everyone left her class and as they were the only two remaining in the class. Basically, he was trying to hit on her, things almost turned bad. But what had really shocked me was this, I had pointed out to her that I was glad that he was not around the last few weeks of school due to him being really annoying. She asked me: "Wait, you didn't hear?" I was confused: "Hear what?" Her: "He was sent tojuvi" Me: "Oh damn. What did he do?." Her: "He stole someone's phone, and the owner tracked it down with Find My iPhone. When the owner had gotten it back, he found multiple images of child pornography." When I heard this, I felt my heart fucking collapse. This was the most fucked up shit that I would ever expect from Kevin. His face, it burned as an image into my brain. Reminding me of how much of a creep ass, and how far his intentions took him. He had harassed that girl that sat between him and I. He had SEXUALLY harassed my friend. Most alarmingly, he viewed child pornography on another persons phone. I mean it when I say that I was actually mortified. A guy like Kevin, you would expect him to do other things, but this took the fucking cake. It made me wonder how a 14 year-old ,plump, pimple-faced, four-eyes, mouth-breathing fucker like him could be brought into the world to do such sick ass things. If I had the chance to, I would fuck him up, I don't think sending his ass to juvi was enough to make him learn. Fuck Kevin.

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talabib · 4 years

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How Turn Failure Into A Valuable Experience