Black Skull Archfiend Dragon ———————————————— 1 Level 6 “Archfiend” Normal Monster + 1 “Red-Eyes” Normal Monster If this card attacks or is attacked, your opponent cannot activate cards or effects until the end of the Damage Step. At the end of the Battle Phase, if this Fusion Summoned card attacked or was attacked: You can target 1 “Red-Eyes” Normal Monster in your Graveyard; inflict damage to your opponent equal to that target’s original ATK, then shuffle that target into the Deck. You can only Special Summon “Black Skull Archfiend Dragon(s)” once per turn. ———————————————— Can Be Found In: Clash of Rebellions (CORE-JP049)
“Red-Eyes B. Dragon” might not be the strongest monster from the classic icons of the franchise due its high Level, but always tried its best to stand out. Several counterparts like “Red-Eyes Darkness Metal Dragon” and “Red-Eyes Wyvern” have a place arround or not the original Normal Monster, “Inferno Fire Blast” is a lethal Burn card to play arround with, and various Fusions to pull out made the monster not be as supported as “Dark Magician” or “Blue-Eyes White Dragon” but still able to face several ordeals. It wasn’t until recently that, like Harpies, “Red-Eyes B. Dragon” evolved into the Red-Eyes archetype, considerably improving the setups arround Fusion Summons in combination with the Ritual “Lord of the Red” and some Archfiend creatures.
“Black Skull Archfiend Dragon” is a menacing creature when comes to battles, and is not just due its high stats. When entering a battle the Fusion disbales the opponent of using cards or effects, completely assuring that no last minute countemeasures disrupts us from defeating monsters in its battles. After “Black Skull” gets in a fight, once a Battle Phase ends (Regardless of player turn) the Fusion will deal damage equal to the ATK a Normal Red-Eyes monster in our graveyard, for inmediately return them to our deck. Overall, “Black Skull” not only will have battles completely in its favor, but even if is not fighting will punish the opponent by simply entering any Battle Phase and might force them to retaliate to avoid further damage.
“Red-Eyes B. Dragon” always had solid support to bring out some of its Fusions, and now that it became an archetype of its own things became even easier. “Black Skull Archfiend Dragon” requires two Normal Monsters, a Level 6 Archfiend and a Red-Eyes, and since the build goes arround Normal and some Gemini monsters is no much of a problem to fit classic creatures like “Summoned Skull” or “Beast of Talwar” (Treated as Archfiends). Specially due the Spell “Red-Eyes Fusion”, allowing us to use materials straight from the Deck in exchange of losing any further summons for the rest of the turn. The Spell reduces the setup to bring “Black Skull” to searching it as soon as possible, easily possible by “Black Metal Dragon” once leaves the field either as equipment or as a Monster. Later on and as the graveyard becomes bigger, “Dragon’s Mirror” will banish the required materials to Fusion Summon during late turns. In resume, either “Black Skull” is brought with materials from the Deck or by using Monsters from the graveyard. Just be very aware that “Black Skull” Burn effect only works if was Fusion Summoned, so if you’re going to revive it from the graveyard remember that will lose said ability.
If any player enters their Battle Phase, “Black Skull Archfiend Dragon” will get into action. If in our turn the Fusion is facing other monsters we don’t have to worry of menacing effects like “Dimensional Prison” or “Honest” getting on our way, assuring the destruction of our target as well dealing extra damage afterwards . During the opponent’s they pretty much are unable to face “Black Skull” unless heavily prepared, so have cards ready against stat boosts and disruptive effects outside battle. Meanwhile, be always sure that “Black Skull” has some Red-Eyes members ready to retrieve and deal massive damage after each Battle Phase. This is easily done not only by “Red-Eyes Fusion” summoning this creature by dumping materials from the Deck, but also cards like “Dragon Shrine” and “Foolish Burial” directly milling monsters. Since most Red-Eyes members are Level 7, “Cards of the Red” can use them as cost to obtain drawing power while fueling the Fusion’s effect. Finally and since the build mixes Dragons and Fiends, “D/D/D Dragon Overlord Pendragon” becomes available after using them as cost from our hand or field as well to destroy backrow.
“Black Skull Archfiend Dragon” will start Duels with its arrival as well create huge comebacks on late turns. This is easily achieved by both “Red-Eyes Fusion” and “Dragon’s Mirror” barely asking for any setups whatsoever aside of the required materials, turning “Black Skull” one of the easiests and most available Fusion Summons in the entire card game. With complete protection in battles, “Black Skull” not only will defeat and/or deal damage to the opponent but also use those high ATK members resting in our graveyard to deal lethal damage after each strike. While getting in a Battle Phase with this Fusion is terrifying, “Black Skull” is as vulnerable as any other creature in the game during the rest of the turn, so be prepared for even the most common threats. But combine it with the several summon and revival effects Red-Eyes carries with them, and the build will easily overcome any field as “Black Skull” declares extremely damaging attacks.
Personal Rating: A+
+ Complete protection in battles + Deals powerful Burn damage after each Battle Phase it gets involved + Instantly brought to the field with few to zero setup thanks to “Red-Eyes Fusion” and “Dragon’s Mirror” + Several methods to fuel the graveyard and assure big damage with its effect
- Vulnerable as any monster outside battles - If brought outside Fusion Summon will lose its Burn effect
Summary: Pre-Kerberos, Shiro and Keith made pancakes depending upon specific circumstances in Shiro’s love life. Now, as Paladins of Voltron, that hasn’t changed.
Takashi Shirogane was a creature of habit. Every time he spent a night with his girlfriend (of the week usually or at the most, three months, two days, and five hours), Keith woke up the next morning to the alluring scent of blueberry and lemon zest pancakes. (Apparently a happy Shiro liked to dote on a grumpy Keith.)
Throughout their years at the academy, Keith woke up quite a few times to Shiro’s cheerful disposition, but other times, the slamming of the front door jerked the young cadet awake in the dead of night. Shiro always blinked, frustrated and embarrassed, before ruffling Keith’s hair as a silent apology on the way to his bedroom to sulk in solitary confinement.
Keith never let him stay that way too long. When those times came, he went to work, making the pancakes himself – usually sans the finer ingredients – before entering Shiro’s room without knocking. He always found his brother the exact same way, pushed up against his headboard, knees bent, pillow tucked under his chin, arms wrapped tightly around it. Shiro watched some stupid show from his youth about these mechanical beasts that would form one huge fighter, and as always, Keith said nothing. He just dropped the plates to the bed, then followed to sit cross-legged and wait. And as always, Shiro broke first.
Hi! I'm a huge fan of your works! And I was wondering if you could make one where he is a nerd but then transforms into this heartthrob just for you without knowing that you already had a crush on him during his nerdy days... You finally get together but then he cheats on you? You can decide if it deserves a happy or sad ending. And hopefully it lasts for more than one part. Sorry for that long request but I really hope you grant this request! Lots of love! xx
nerd harry always reminds me of marcel, and don’t tell me they’re the same person
and this will most definitely last more than one part, hon
AND I LOVE HOW YOU SAY GRANT LIKE I’M A GENIE
“Does anyone know the answer?”
As per usual, Harry’s hand shoots straight in the air. He barely looks up from his notebook as the teacher calls on him. He says, with absolute confidence, “The answer is five. Well, more specifically Four point ninety five, but then the question said to round up to the first decimal place.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Mrs. Wang looks at the rest of the class. “You are a brilliant example to the rest of the class.”
But you don’t hear what she says next, as your eyes are on the back of Harry’s hair. His glasses are set on the top of his desk, and his face is practically buried in a math textbook. Even from two rows back, you can see his hair shimmer from how much gel he’s using. But you don’t blame him, after all, he has to do something to tame his naturally curly hair.
“Y/N? Am I interrupting your daydreaming?”
Your head snaps up, and you pray to all the Gods out there that your cheeks were not as red as you thought. But then, of course, they were. “N-No, of course not, Miss,” you bite our lip as you hear someone laugh behind you.
It’s Grant, the most popular guy in your grade. You roll your eyes as he snickers, “Y/N, if you need any help making your dream into a reality, you know where to find me.”
Harry’s head glances up from his book, back at Grant, then at you, all while Mrs. Wang tries to settle the class again. “What are you looking at, Styles?” Grant leans forward on his desk, “Not like you can ever get any.”
Laughter erupts, and Mrs. Wang’s eyes widen, “Grant, apologise–”
“Sorry, Miss,” Grant grins, while raising both hands. “I don’t think I have anything to apologise for. You always said to tell the truth, and–”
“Cut the crap,” you turn around to glare at him. He raises his eyebrows, surprised that you let a cuss word escape from your mouth. “That was rude, and who are you to talk? All this shit about sex, yet I’ve never seen you get to first base. And I’ve been to all of your infamous ‘orgy’s’. So, when you’re done being a dick, maybe you can go grow one.”
You turn back around, and you can’t focus on Mrs. Wang threatening to call your parents because your cheeks are flaming. You can practically feel Grant stare daggers into the back of your head, but there’s nothing he can do about it because your brother was a senior, and his friends were practically your brothers too. And deep down, both you and Grant knew that one bad word from you to your brother and his face would be black and blue.
The class resumes, and you try hard to focus, but you keep seeing Harry in the corner of your vision. And he was looking back at you too. He pretended to check the time at the back of the class, but you caught him subtly casting a glance at you.
You looked down for the rest of the class, afraid of your own emotions.
The second you walk out of the classroom, Grant and his friends surround you.
“That was pretty rough, what you said back there.” All of them were six-feet tall, and it didn’t help that heels weren’t allowed in school. You try to ignore them as you walk to your locker. “Hey, bitch, listen to me.”
You roll your eyes as Grant leans forward, smirking, “You know what they say….when people are mean, it means they like you.” You scoff, and he tilts his head to the side. “Whatcha say, babe? We can ditch last period and go make out in my car.”
Slamming your locker shut, you look up at him with a fake smile, “First bitch then babe? I’ve got another B word for you: Bastard. And when people are mean to you, it doesn’t mean they like you, it means they don’t. And I will never make out with you. Never hit on me again.”
You storm off, and you hear him call, “I like a girl who plays hard to get!” Turning the corner as quickly as you can, you end up bumping into someone and send papers flying everywhere.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you immediately drop to the ground, gathering them in your hands as quickly as possible. “I’m so sor–” Then you look up and see Harry. He’s smiling at you shyly, adjusting his glasses.
“It’s okay,” he says awkwardly, grabbing the papers from your hands and shoving them back into his folder, shutting it tightly. He sticks out his hand, “I’m Harry. We just had–”
“Math, yeah, I know,” you shake his hand, and you both rise to your feet simultaneously. His hand feels strong in yours. He lets go immediately. “I know you. We also have English, Science and Art together. I can’t believe you don’t know who I am.”
He shakes his head, smiling sheepishly, “No, I do…I just thought that you might not.”
“Why would I not?” You grin. “You’re literally the smartest person in the whole school.”
“Oh, yeah,” he looks down at his feet. “I’m smart. That’s why.”
“No, not just that,” you quickly say. You didn’t want him to be upset. You didn’t know why, but you just couldn’t stand to see him sad. “You are smart, yes, but you’re also funny. I love the references to How I Met Your Mother in your slam poetry,” you laugh, “I’m almost always dying in the corner.”
His green eyes light up, and they’re so beautiful. You almost say it out loud, but then he says, “Really? I thought no one noticed…and I gotta say…your art! You’re so talented it’s almost hard to believe.”
“Thank you so much.” Your heart flutters. You open your mouth to carry on the conversation, when you hear someone behind you shout Y/N! It’s time to go to PE! “I’m sorry, I gotta go,” you say to Harry.
“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” he nods. “Have fun in PE?”
You laugh, “Like that’s ever gonna happen. See you in Art?”
“Yeah,” he smiles, and you wonder why you never had a conversation with him before. “See you in Art.”
It’s when you’re almost at the end of the hallway that you turn around and see Grant talking to Harry, in the same spot you were just in. The taller boy is leaning in close, and you could only guess what he was saying. Grant’s eyes land on yours, and you shoot him the middle finger. He smiles, whispering something in Harry’s ear.
Then he slams all of his folders on the ground, and paper goes flying everywhere again.
“Y/N, come on, we gotta go or Coach is gonna kill us!” Your friend urges you along, and you nod, following after her.
You score all the goals for your team that day, and when your friend asks you why you’re so aggressive at flag football, you shrug and say, “I just picture the ball as a bomb, and the end zone as Grant’s face.”
So my friends tell me that I have a knack for creating resumes and cover letters. I have gotten my friends numerous fellowships and positions in the past. I want to hone my talent. Send me your resume, cover letter, and a link to the position you are applying to and I will help you get the job of your dreams!
This is absolutely free as I want to build a client base.
Message me on here or email me at email@example.com
Many job seekers spend countless hours writing, polishing and blasting their résumés to dozens of companies. Then they wait and never hear a thing.
Here’s how you change that and ensure your résumé is seen:
1) Have someone proofread your résumé.
2) Keep it simple. Avoid graphics and logos
that may “clog” how an applicant tracking system reads your resume.
(✉ >> Shulkie): I can’t just contact my favorite green lady? (✉ >> Shulkie): I’m offended you think I need legal help… again. (✉ >> Shulkie): But since we’re on the subject, can someone sue you for false advertisement… like on a job resume?
( ✉ → Black Cat ) : Sorry I’m still in Lawyer Mode ( ✉ → Black Cat ) : That depends ( ✉ → Black Cat ) : What did you do?
I am not black, but I stand with my black brothers and sisters. The system which victimizes them is the same system that victimizes us. “Black Lives Matter!” I argue and shout, I stand with them. Do not let the enemy divide and conquer. None of us can be freed until we are all freed. And so we must all wake up and stand together.
“Black lives matter!” I say, and I’m met with cheers and agreement. Our anger joins together and we build a brick wall against the naysayers who try to throw excuses, lies, buzzwords, “thug”, “resisting arrest”, “hoodie”, to justify the slaughter. We will not bend. We are united. We are siblings.
Until a Latinx person is the one killed by police. Until politicians pin the blame for violence and the economy squarely on the shoulders of my tired, overworked and underpaid, abused, vulnerable people. Suggestions are thrown around. Send them all “home”, as if the United States is not the home of countless children who have lived all their lives here and know no other place. Shoot them at the border, they’re all drug dealers anyway! As if no mother has ever crossed, wailing infant in hand, desperate to escape the violence, the poverty, and the sex slave trade of her town. “They’re taking all our jobs!” They say, as I see men and women who graduated from fine universities in their home countries, reduced to scrubbing toilets and frying fast food for mere pocket change.
And when I turn to my black brothers and sisters. “The same War on Drugs that incarcerates and victimizes you, is what is giving control to the Drug Cartels who are tearing our countries apart and forcing Latinx people to cross the border! We deserve to be heard too!” I raise my hand and wait for their reply. I hear silence.
What about solidarity? I ask to form a united front. “Our lives matter too!” I’m told to keep quiet. That it isn’t about us right now. That we’re only distracting from their message. And besides, we shouldn’t be breaking the law and coming to this country illegally anyway. That’s our own fault.
I’m reeling. And yet time and again, this is what I see.
My people are killed in the streets, both here and in our Latin countries. No one cares. To bring it up is to get us “off message”. Besides, we shouldn’t be illegal anyway.
And I stand there with my mouth hanging open. I have never been an illegal, no one in my family is. Why, then, are you punishing us?
I have had friends who were illegals. Does that make them any less human? Does escaping certain death, even if it means crossing without permission, make one deserving of death? Why, then, are you punishing us?
I try to forget. I try to shake it off. Keep fighting. Solidarity, I say. Our allies will come. Solidarity.
“The wage gap isn’t just about white women!” I hear people say. “Black women get paid 64 cents on the dollar, compared to White women who make 77 cents!”
I nod in fervent agreement. “Yeah! And Latina women make only 56 cents!”
“Shhh!” I’m coddled and pushed to the back. “Not right now. This isn’t about you right now. Stay on message.”
I look down at my feet, ashamed. “Okay.” I say. “I’m sorry.” I say.
“Black people are discriminated against for their names.” My allies lecture me, educating me. “An employer will look at a Black name on a resume and not even bother. You can have ANY other kind of name, Asian, Polish, Jewish, German, French, Latin, and no one cares. But Black–”
“Hold on!” I say, confused and hurt. “That’s not true! Haven’t you heard the stories of men who have had to change their names, from names like Jose to Joe, just removing one letter, to even be LOOKED at? I myself have gone to job interviews and had interviewers be SHOCKED at ‘how good my English is’, as if they didn’t expect me to speak my Native language at all, let alone well. All because of my last name! How can you say only you suffer this? Can’t we both bear this burden together?”
I go quiet. Of course, I’m not trying to invalidate them. I’m sure what they say about their struggles is true. But why can our struggles not be included?
I watch Big Hero 6, looking for mindless entertainment. For distraction. It has a diverse cast of characters, which is so refreshing to see. Until I get to the Latina. There is nothing Latina about her. They designed her as the whitest Latina they could manage. She reads white in everything from appearance to action. Except for one thing… what is it that they used to mark her as Latina?
An accent. A horrible, inconsistent accent. My blood boils, thinking of all those interviewers who have praised me in surprise when they learn I am so “fluent” in English. Why? Why, why, why? All the other people in this film have no accent. There are Asians and a Black character and they all sound as American as apple pie. Why, then, isn’t the Latina? Why are we always othered, even among our fellow minorities? We’re not QUITE one of you. Not QUITE American. Not QUITE human.
I post about the film on my blog, angry and hurt and deeply perturbed.
In response, my inbox is flooded with messages. “You don’t understand, this is the first Disney film to show Japanese people in a positive light! Big Hero 6 is important! Don’t say these things!”
I want to cry. Am I that terrible a person? Of course I want Asian American kids to have positive representation. Of course! But is it so much to ask for Latin American kids to have the same?
We don’t even have a Disney princess. I want to scream.
I recall an Asian best friend I had in grade school. I remember a sleepover at her house, with her staunchly republican father shaming me at the dinner table. That night as we lay in our PJs in her bed, she told that she agreed. That Latinx people are all criminals who come here to mooch off the welfare system. That I’m the exception. I remember leaving her house with a lead weight in my chest I did not have the capacity to verbalize. I stopped talking to her shortly after. I simply couldn’t bear it.
What about feminism? I practically screech, so hard my throat feels raw. What about Gay rights? We have LGBTQA Latinxs! Latinx culture is EXTREMELY patriarchal with the whole “machismo” tradition. What about our struggles?
I’m silenced. Told to stay quiet. This isn’t about me. We’re speaking over them. We need to listen and educate ourselves and STOP asserting ourselves. WE DON’T MATTER, is what we’re intrinsically being told, over and over. Everyone else is MORE IMPORTANT and you will NEVER have equal standing!
I feel betrayed. I want to believe in solidarity. I don’t want a racist, oppressive system to win by dividing us, and thus diving our strengths.
But all around me, the truth is thrown in my face. Our people are good as bodies to have on your team. But they only want us to stand FOR them. They won’t stand WITH us. No wonder so many Latin people stay in tight-knit communities which continue to speak only Spanish. What does the English-speaking world have for them?
But at least the older generation has these tight-knit communities, where they can speak of their homeland with nostalgic melancholy. What does my generation have?
We who have only ever known this country, and yet who are not allowed to be seen as fully American. Those of us who do not belong to any other country or culture, but who are told we are nothing but ghetto anchor babies who can’t speak either of our languages well. Who are told, we should get used to being janitors and maids, because there is nothing else for us. And I, who have written entrance essays for many friends and helped them get into great universities, but possess no financial foundation to do so for myself. Where do I belong? Where do any of us belong? Waiting tables? On the street corner? Being treated as sex objects and vacuum cleaners? Told that our messy, hard to handle hair, is because we are ghetto and unclean and refuse to brush our hair. No one reassures us that our natural hair is “beautiful”.
I don’t want them to win. I don’t want them to beat us. I want to stand with our brown brothers and sisters and win freedom for all of us. Don’t let them divide and conquer!
But deep down I know… the enemy has no need. We were never united to begin with.
You sat the cup down on counter and padded on bare feet to answer the door. A disheveled looking Jiyong stood on the other side, panting. “Jiyong…why..?.” “I love you..” He blurted, interrupting you. “W-what….”
“Jiyong…I don’t…what?” You shifted uncomfortably, pulling Youngbae’s t-shirt down over your thighs. “I love you.” He repeated. You squinted at him, “Are you okay? Have you been drinking?” “___________, this is not a fucking joke.” You scrunched up your face, “Did I say it was?” He exhaled, scratching the space between his eyebrows. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.” You felt your chest tightened, “Jiyong….you don’t love me.” “Don’t tell me what the fuck I feel.” He said it with such fierceness that you took a step back, blinking at him. “O-kay…” You said, a little uneasily. He looked like shit, like he hadn’t been sleeping. “Ji-…” “Stop talking.” Your mouth snapped shut, and you stood there with your hand on the door, ready to close it in his face. “You know what?” He started, finally looking up at you, “You’re right..” He scoffed a short laugh. Confusion. That’s what you felt as you watched Jiyong pass through several different emotions at once. “Goodnight, __________.” “Good…night..?” He walked away from you, leaving you to stare stupidly after his retreating figure. What? You closed the door, feeling more at a loss than anything. How do you tell someone you love them, and then in the next minute do a complete one-eighty and all but take it back? “It makes no gotdamn sense.” You shook your head and made your way back to the kitchen to finish you water.
A pair of arms wrapped around your middle, "You look good in my shirt.” Youngbae rested his chin on your shoulder, hands pushing under the thin, white material. He danced his fingers against the skin of your stomach, causing you to squirm. “You know, __________. I haven’t had the chance to taste you yet…” Oh. “Y-Youngbae..I don’t thiiii-…oh..” His finger swirled around your still-sensitive clit in light, feather-like touches. Your thighs clamped shut and he chuckled behind you, kissing your shoulder before removing his finger from you. You heard the faint sound of his finger sliding from his mouth with a wet popping sound. He kissed your shoulder again, “Come back to bed.” You let him pull you out of the kitchen, reaching back to shut the light off as he led you back to your bedroom.
“I had a good time last night.” Youngbae smiled as he stood at your front door. You were slightly disappointed that he had to go, but that’s how one night stands worked. You leaned your head against the door and smiled back at him, “Me too.” He looked you over and groaned, biting his bottom lip. “I do hate to go, but if I don’t, I’d never leave.” You rolled your eyes at his corniness, “Please…” “I’ll call you.” Doubt it. “Sure thing.” You smiled anyway, waving him off as he walked down the hallway to the elevator. He had such a nice ass. You would know, you’d spent most of last night with it in your hands. Even the simple action of recalling the events of last night made you giddy. You’d had some damn good sex before, Jiyong was an expert lover. But Youngbae? Jeebus take the wheel. That man’s stamina was otherworldly. Your cellphone rang and you rushed to it, hoping to catch it before it stopped ringing. “Hello?” You answered without looking at the caller ID. “Well I’ll be damned. You took him home didn’t you?” Stef, your friend from last night said as soon as you answered. A smile pulled at the corners of your lips, “I did.” “BITCH! TELL ME EVERYTHING!” You had to pull your phone away from your ear. “Nah.” “Why not?” “I don’t kiss and tell, heathen.” “’I don’t kiss and tell’ my ass. I saw you come out of the bathroom with him. Who’s the heathen now?” You cackled at this, knowing full well that anyone with eyes saw you leave the restroom with Youngbae at the club. It was no secret that the two of you had sex in there. “Tell me the dirty details. Does he fuck like a gawd or what?” You broke into an ear-to-ear smile, “Girl.” You pulled your phone away from your ear again as she screamed into the receiver. “I’m coming over. I need you to tell me in person. I’m obviously living vicariously through you now.” “Girl, hold on a sec. Someone’s knocking.” She went silent on the other end as you opened your front door. Youngbae was standing there with a smile on his face, “Do you drink coffee?” “Bitch…”
“It’s a shame we didn’t get that coffee.” Youngbae joked, tracing patterns into your bare thigh. You laughed, propping your head up on your hand, “I was really wanting some too.” Yes. A shame. A beautifully tanned shame. “I think I woke up just fine.” You breathed, moving your face closer to him, lips brushing his. You felt his mouth turn up into a smile before he kissed you. “I don’t think I’m fully awake yet..” You laughed as he rolled on top of you, settling between your legs. “I think I need another taste before I wake up completely.” As much as you wanted this, you had to do the one thing you didn’t want to, kick him out. “Youngbae…I have to get ready for an interview.” He chuckled, dropping his head. The tips of his hair shook against your bare skin, tickling you. “I have to get going anyway..” He looked up at you, making you regret bringing up your interview. If you could stay in bed with him all day, you definitely, one hundred percent, would. He pressed a final kiss to your lower abdomen before maneuvering his way out of your bed. You watched him get dressed, a little disappointed. You really wished you could have stayed rolling around in your sheets with the beautiful man you’d brought home last night, but alas, life needed to be lived.
You glanced at your cellphone screen as you half-walked, half-ran your way to the open elevator doors. You were going to be late for your interview, which was never a good sign. First impressions were everything. And although Jiyong was allowing you to keep the apartment, you still needed to get a job. You weren’t sure how long he’d be willing to shell out money for you to keep staying there now that you’d inadvertently shot down his possible love confession. “Hold the elevator!” You hollered as you neared the large, steel doors. A hand shot out, stopping them from closing. “Thank you!” You rushed to say as you hopped inside, excusing yourself. “What floor, ma’am?” “Thirteen.”
“President Dong will be with you shortly.” The secretary said to you with a false cheeriness that you’d come to be very familiar with. You smiled at her anyway, hoping she’d hate you less for being the one potentially replacing her. Sure, you were beautiful, but was that really your fault? You were blessed with phenomenal genes. In other words, you were blessed. Good looks, well educated, and you dressed as if you’d stepped out of a fashion magazine? Who wouldn’t be threatened by that? Especially if they looked like they hadn’t seen a decent night of sleep in weeks. That poor woman. She smiled back at you before sitting down at her desk, directly across from where you were going to have your interview. The layout of this office was similar to that of a certain former boss. You shook your head, dismissing thoughts of him. Now was not the time. Five minutes of silence, and the woman returned to where you sat, “President Dong will see you now.” She said with the same overly sweet tone. You smiled politely, picking up your handbag and the slick, black folder with your resume tucked inside. “Right this way.” She ushered you to the door and then left you standing there, wondering if you should just walk inside. You knocked on the glass, waiting for a response. “Come in.” You pushed the door open, stopping in your tracks when you’d seen who was on the other side of it.
“Youngbae?” He looked up at you and smiled, gesturing for you to close the door. “Have a seat.” This cannot be happening to you. Not again. “What a pleasant surprise.” He said with the brightest smile you could have thought possible on a human being. “Shame on you, seducing your potential employer in order to have a good interview.” You gaped at him, “I-I…I didn’t know…” You tried, waving your hands in front of you frantically. He laughed, a beautiful sound. “I’m fucking with you.” You closed your mouth, clearing your throat and looking away from him. “Do you have your resume?” Your head shot up, “I’m sorry?” “Your resume..” Oh! You snapped into attention and rushed to hand him the folder. “I, umm…have about a year in secretarial experience. I also have clerical experience as well.” He nodded as he flipped open the folder, pursing his lips as he read over your information. Shutting the folder, he smiled at you, “I will give it some thought, and then have my secretary give you a call if you’ve gotten the job. Is that fair enough?” You nodded enthusiastically, standing to shake his hand. “I’m sorry to rush you out of here. I have a lunch meeting with my brother. He’s not one for tardiness.” You laughed nervously, feeling like your stomach was going to drop out of your body. “Not a problem, sir.” You bowed slightly, avoiding eye contact. You grabbed your bag from the floor as there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.” The door opened and there was the last person you thought you’d see. “Jiyong! Right on time.”
If Darcy could put “besties with Black Widow” on her resume, she would. Though, she was pretty sure it would land her somewhere around the 50/50 mark on a scale of ‘would help her get a job’ and ‘would get her blacklisted from ever applying for a job in the general vicinity of said place again.’ Eh. She would still proudly declare herself a friend of Natasha’s. Which was why she was not freaking out that the super spy was sleuthing around the medical office, which conveniently happened to be down the hall from Jane’s lab.
Oh and also, JoMo has never seemed like a snobby actor or anything, but it must be frustrating to be a classically trained actor and have a show where almost every other actor is pretty talented, and then have to waste your time propping up an actress who doesn't even seem to grasp the most basic acting skills (I'm not even trying to be mean, but in most of her scenes it seems like PT isn't even sure what direction she should be looking let alone what her facial expression should be).
Honestly it is sad. Because the Originals were basically created because of him. He was the character that caused a huge publicity wave. He was the character that people appreciated. He was the character that was in one of the most acknowledged ships. He was the actor that made this a possibility and then a reality. And instead of having his own show now he has PT’s show. He can’t say anything about it. He has to support it. Because in the end it is his own name that is at stake here. Critics, networks, productions and most of the viewers already no PT’s “worth” when it comes to acting and to projects she can deliver. But with Morgan is different. He can act, he can draw people in. He has a classical education. If this fails it will be a black spot in his resume (it already is actually because in the system he works in and in the eyes of serious critics etc the lack of quality of this show is noted) and in all honestly he is not getting any younger. At least before that he had the time and the will to search for more interesting projects that could help his career evolve (and practically and artistically). And if PT was a brilliant actress things would be totally different but it is blatantly and painfully obvious that she isn’t. And it is even more unfortunate because it is quite provocative. You have a bad actress that has to stand next and against good actors and actresses and that makes her weaknesses stand out even more and then instead of focusing on the actors and the characters that deserve the spot light the production and the writing team focus on the talentless girl and creates a lead character that makes no sense. If she was a supportive we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now. The Originals were supposed to be different and everyone knows it. And the viewers and the actors that play in the show.
I don't see nothing on ferguson in my dash anymore & now I'm seeing the Name Eric Garner but I know so little about the situation this scares me a lot we're slipping
I can update you on Eric’s case and give you some details to look at. In a lot of ways, Eric’s case is more appalling that Mike’s case because the two contradict each other.
Michael Brown’s murder escalated the cry for cameras on officers. But Eric Garner proved what we all feared: that you can catch clear racial prejudice and murder on camera but white officers will still be let off because of technicalities.
The NYPD is intentionally adding insult to injury:
Eric’s murderer is Daniel Pantaleo. Do not forget his name.
Pantaleo has “apologized” to Eric’s wife; who responded that the time for remorse was when her husband was suffocating. ( asphyxiation tw)
Chokeholds have been illegal in the NYPD since 1993 and the officer still was not indicted.
The main thing to note is even with the protests and the general public outcry for justice, we are still facing the genocide of black people in the United States and I agree that it is horrendous that non-black bloggers can just resume “normal” blogging as if this issue was solved after Darren Wilson resigned.
This shit has just begun. And the people that have resumed their normal activities are falling into the trap of holiday cheer; which is exactly what racist America wants to happen.
And us white bloggers especially cannot become complacent. Complacency is privilege.