#also like. one mention of heat in here but not enough to merit a tag

[mantisgodsdomain]

Falling victim to madness in the Chilaios Discord part one (with a link to the post mentioned at the end). Part 2 linked here (note: slightly more nsfw text). Transcript below cut.

A Discord conversation between three discord users - us, nicknamed Speculative Vore Cookbook, Cup of Chilaios Soup, and Oh Kay! (wormlette).

Speculative Vore Cookbook: Experiencing the impulse to rewrite the changeling chapters for fun and profit. Do you think that considering that half-foots apparently see dwarves as Extremely Attractive Laios sparks some kind of Thing in Chilchuck as a dwarf

Cup of Chilaios soup: GRABS YOU PLEASE CONTINUE

Speculative Vore Cookbook: Listen considering Us there will be spec bio about this but. Listen. Since we've been doing the species as "uncanny-valley-type not quite Like You" for the most part with just a little bit of increased compatibility within "families". Do you think that it would be fun if he can suddenly see all of Laios's features in this new light of this particular species. Where all of the tallman features abruptly come into focus in a format far more recognizable and all of a sudden he can draw some Very Certain Lines to someone who is abruptly several times more recognizably attractive rather than, like, would be very attractive if it weren't for the subtle distortion of species.

Cup of Chilaios soup: my third eye has opened

Speculative Vore Cookbook: Do you think being a tallman himself would help with that? An abrupt distortion of the brain. Do you think he would be able to draw back those memories to abruptly have the uncanny-valley barrier splinter under the force of, y'know, he knows precisely what that translates to, and with the added perspective it seems much less alien, and much more "for the love of god he's not supposed to be getting crushes on the job"

Speculative Vore Cookbook: We need to make elves Weirder for this also. They're like the only race on the chart right now that Doesn't have a close-relation group where things like attraction translate more easily we need to make them more fucked up Absently rotating the idea of dwarves having an excellent sense of smell compared to their other close relatives both for enhancing their appreciation for Good Food (a surprising amount of taste is tied up in your sense of smell) and for underground navigation & communication And Laios will absolutely be Weird About It

Cup of Chilaios soup: Laios: wow Chilchuck why do you smell so breedable (gets crushed by a rock)

Speculative Vore Cookbook: Walks up to Chilchuck and starts sniffing him unprompted so he can deliver a food-critic review of his scent Breedable waits for whenever we actually get ourself to do sex pollen heatfic and can also do cool spec bio stuff but like with reproductive cycles Still rotating the idea of making DM tallmen Weirder. We already know they're taller than IRL humans we need to add like some extra fuckshit in there We've got to do the speculative biology first you see. Make it more fucked up. We've already set it up so they're fairly closely related to orcs we might as well add some fantasy bullshit in there.

Cup of Chilaios soup: Tallmen have slower metabolisms maybe? And they need to at A Lot to support their mass? You are so correct eat A Lot*

Oh Kay! (wormlette) (replying to initial message): wait hold on holy fuck man.

Speculative Vore Cookbook: So far what we have for them as their Thing They're Known for is like. Endurance. Tallmen Specifically are known to be able to walk for hours without growing too tired. Not quite as strong as orcs or ogres, of course, but they're tall enough that they practically eat up ground with every stride, and they just don't stop moving.

Cup of Chilaios soup: passing the braincell around like it's a joint KINGS OF TIRING THEIR PREY OUT

Speculative Vore Cookbook: Orcs and ogres are ofc known for their brutal strength, which is Significantly Less Pronounced in humans - but all that strength burns energy, and they'll tire out far faster. Humans just keep going, far beyond what they really should be capable of.

Cup of Chilaios soup: guys who will climb a fcking mountain and be like ":D wanna walk back to town on foot"

Speculative Vore Cookbook: We think that the Big Thing People Know for elves would be their magic but we think that the magic thing is less about being naturally predisposed to it or whatever and more on the fact that enough of their society circles around it that pretty much any elf you meet's been deliberately raised to cultivate their magic, We think that their actual primary feature, like, physically, would be like. We're basing them on ungulates, right? Elves have long, willowy limbs, especially compared to their bodies. Look very graceful as adults who have had centuries of experience walking around and like wretched ganglebeasts at any point when they haven't gotten the hang of it yet. ABSURDLY fast in a sprint, because those long-ass legs are useful for Something, and that Something is being on runnable stilts. Not much stamina, though. (we are returning to this because we are fond of Marcille and we want her to be, like, Weird but in a way where they pass it off as Normal Elf Weird until the Changeling Thing happens and they have to cope with the fact that actually, elves are way weirder, and Marcille is weird in how close she is to other races as opposed to. Uhh. That Fucking Setup

Speculative Vore Cookbook (replying to Cup of Chilaios soup": "guys who will climb a fcking mountain"): Tallmen will climb a mountain carrying equipment on their back and need like a thirty minute breather tops before they're back up and at it like "okay now time to go down the other side" We think it's fun if it's a thing like the half-foot/dwarf/gnome cluster's enhanced senses, where the Absurd Stamina is part of what their other close relations have going for them, but whereas orcs and ogres have it to a Reasonable degree, Tallmen specialize really hard into doing this One Thing and get it in spades. Much like how half-foots spent all of their stat points in their ridiculously sensitive senses, to the detriment of things like strength and durability, tallmen have stupid amounts of stamina. Don't have to be as strong as your close relatives when you can simply outlast them!

Oh Kay! (wormlette) (replying to Speculative Vore Cookbook "returning to this because we are fond of Marcille): really like learning abt elf weirdness in the context of marcille, specifically as a half elf. really liked how that reveal was handled, since fionil is also a half-elf i didnt notice for a LONG time that she was perhaps different than other elves. i really like that!!! tall-men just have a lot of stamina. basically canon re: how much shit laios carries around. particularly in a good dog RIP they're like. alaskan mal specced. they just keep going and going forever

Speculative Vore Cookbook: We think that her, like, subtly softer features and such get Very Fun especially with the potential familiarity aspect vs what full elves have going on if we go full weird on elves because we fucking love how Absolutely Fucked ungulate anatomy is and it scratches a little itch in the back of our brain to let the Graceful Forest People overlap with, like. You Know The Specific Flavor Of Creepypasta Beast

Oh Kay! (wormlette): ^forever comparing everything to dog breeds

Speculative Vore Cookbook: We casually mention that Falin's wrist bones are shorter than elf wrist bones in Drain Your Well Dry and we really need to elaborate on that some day Marcille is like the shetland pony of elves in that she's got like WAY more just… bulk, compared to an elf that's normally like 98% gangle 2% meat And she's still, like, insanely boney compared to human standards. We like to think she has the build of a greyhound. Insanely long for no reason.

Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting Speculative Vore Cookbook "casually mentioned Falin's wrist bones are shorter): I NOTICED!!! I LUV THAT… marcille studying ennervation and everything… it kills me… i always thought of her as so carefree looking in her little spellbook and walking around and now im haunted by like. how much of it was her studying human anatomy for what she feared was inevitable!

Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting "like to think she has the build of a greyhound"): oh yeaaaag sighthound build would be GOOD for elves.

Speculative Vore Cookbook: But she still looks… More Similar To Other Races, y'know. You can see the similarities to her and other races and it makes it a tiny bit easier to slowly feel more at ease around her. Elves are weird and you don't see them often, but y'know, you've been around This One Elf long enough to start picking up on stuff, y'know? She's not that different from you, when it comes down to it, and sure she's a bit childish but that's probably normal for longer-lived races who're in the first halves of their lives, honestly. Aging slower and all. You can draw the lines if you pay enough attention, you've spent enough time socializing with other species that you can figure out the basic key, and though there are some things in there that really throw you off, as with any other race, it's not like you're handling an entirely new skull structure like with kobolds, right? It's readable, with enough time. Similar enough to tallmen that you can use your experience there and then fill in the gaps. And then you meet full-blooded elves when the Canaries come knocking and these guys are WAY more offputting than you thought actually. What the fuck is up with them? What the hell?

Cup of Chilaios soup: They have the reflective deer eyes from those horror edits

Speculative Vore Cookbook: Putting elves as a weird isolated branch in the humanoid evolution tree was a galaxy brain decision for us tbh. Their whole Weird Superiority Thing very much gets worse when they're the only people who don't have close relatives they can reference from. The other long-lived races seem to mingle FAR easier than them, and though we know it's The Attitude and such, it's fun to make them just… offputting.

Oh Kay! (wormlette): your miiiind

Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting "not like reading an entirely new skull structure like kobolds): btw dont you love the thingie about kobolds having a vocal chord structure that doesnt realy support them speaking common. so no matter how smart they are they seem "animalistic" to humans. i love that a lot it's like. hmm. i really like when it's not body horror by itself but put into a societal context, it BECOMES horrifying. u know? it would be fine. except the dehumanization it leads to

Speculative Vore Cookbook: YESSSS it slaps so hard. We think that there should be more bonus subtle differences with just random other races we think it's SO fun when biology fucks you over just as firmly as society.

Cup of Chilaios soup: SO TRUE KAY Rotating all these thoughts in my mind

Speculative Vore Cookbook: It's not that something is wrong with you. It's that you weren't built for this world the same way that everyone else was.

Cup of Chilaios soup: The parallels,,,,, the themes,,,,, Biting my leg

Speculative Vore Cookbook: Anyways do you think that part of the reason Kabru is so Like That is because he went from normal human body language to a bunch of elves with the same general bauplan but next to no shared body language vocabulary, Do you think he had to like manually learn how elves express social emotions with a race so isolated that they're probably developing whole separate methods of socialization completely divorced from anything the short-lived races even do and then had to relearn how to act like a Human when he went back into the world.

Cup of Chilaios soup: OH MY GOD Also sorry but Idk how far some of the peeps reading the manga are, perhaps it would be nice to spoiler the Kabru thing:0 BUT I AGREE THIS IS SCRATCHING MY BRAIN KABRU MY BELOVED THIS HEADCANON IS SUCH GOOD BRAIN FOOD

Speculative Vore Cookbook: We love making fantasy races like just a little bit more fucked up

Cup of Chilaios soup: As you should!!!!!!!

Speculative Vore Cookbook: TBH it widens the gap between species if they're, like, similar enough that you think you Should be able to interpret the signals they're giving off because they look Just Similar Enough that they should emote and socialize and such like you, right? But the similarity is, as they say, mostly just skin-deep, because it does so much more to widen cultural differences when the cultures also work on different biology. Anyways we think half-foot communities should be really dense in population because they descended from an ancestor with the Meerkat Strategy of having a fuckton of people with very sharp senses all looking out for the same colony in such a way where there's always at least one person awake to raise the alarm and we think it's fun if half-foots are set up for a significantly more tactile & densely-populated community than most other species.

Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting Speculative Vore Cookbook "part of the reason Kabru is so Like That): I DO. I DO THINK THAT. DO YOU THINK THAT tallman socialization feels so coarse and simple and easy-to-read by comparison.

Speculative Vore Cookbook: It's cool & fun if Chilchuck has to deliberately avoid almost all forms of touch to avoid being demeaned and seen as Lesser And Childish while also being wired to have like minimum five hours of skin contact with colony members per day tbh. Touch starve that man in ways that are difficult to understand for his party that he will actively have to muffle if he wants to be taken Seriously because most other races see it as Childish to cling

Speculative Vore Cookbook (quoting Oh Kay "I DO THINK THAT"): YES and we think it's very fun if him having to manually relearn tallman socialization also makes it so he finds it easier to interpret other races because he already has to like work out what Everyone's thinking from a pre-prepped body language dictionary and it's just so much easier to interpret when he doesn't have to re-invent the wheel every time

Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting Speculative Vore Cookbook "childish to cling": @_@ im so FUCKING normal

Speculative Vore Cookbook: :333 The changeling chapter constantly lives rent-free in our brain we think it's fun if like anyone who gets half-footed starts experiencing the intense skin hunger cravings like less than an hour in and have no idea what the Fuck it is because they've never lived in a body made to be that Social before and Chilchuck has to like take over to offer a bit of touch even if it's undignified since. Y'know. He knows how it feels. No reason to subject them to that, even if it's gonna cost a bit of dignity. It'll cost them more dignity if they start freaking out over it. It's efficient :333 Dealing with senses cranked up so high that you can tell when someone's moving around clear on the other side of the building probably makes it a whole lot harder to handle even More stimuli in a normal and dignified manner Something something we're grabbing a cool post we made

#we speak #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #chilaios #admittedly little of it. we go fully into the madness here #fantasy biology #changelings #marcille donato #kabru of utaya #chilchuck tims #headcanons #speculative biology #also like. one mention of heat in here but not enough to merit a tag

[moonlit-han]

bad squirrel ↠ han jisung

genre: bad boy!jisung au, enemies to lovers au, high school au; humor word count: 2.8k warnings: so fluffy, swearing, mildly suggestive  |  gender-neutral reader request: yes (thank you for such a clearly imagined and fun request, anon!)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You’d never understood why Han Jisung had to be so loud.

Wasn’t the “bad boy” of the school supposed to be the quiet, brooding type? Not that Jisung didn’t do his fair share of lurking in corners doing gods knew what, sneaking out of the school to mysteriously reappear hours later, and drinking from a flask in the middle of class…. But he was just so damn loud. All the time! And because Jisung was loud in class, you strongly disliked him. Sure, he did his work (sometimes, like when the sun rose in the west) and had friends—two, to be exact: Chan and Changbin—but other than that, he kept to himself, yet was somehow loud. Jisung also strutted around the school like he owned it, looking much like a disgruntled raven.

As you were in the same year, you were intimately familiar with all his less-than wonderful propensities, and had listened to more gossip about him than you’d care to admit. Granted, that was simply to hear anything about him. You had a strange fascination with Jisung that somehow existed in tandem with your dislike—you couldn’t understand it. And, you commonly thought about him at the most random times; this also meant that you ranted to your best friend, Seungmin, far too often.

Jisung sat in the corner of the cafeteria with Chan and Changbin, and scribbled. He was always scribbling in a notebook he kept in his back pocket, and you wanted to know what he was writing—probably something like emo poetry. And today was no different. Occasionally, he’d look up and stare into the middle distance.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on inside his head?” you asked as you chewed a mouthful of your lunch. Seungmin saw where your gaze rested and rolled his eyes.

“No. Definitely not.”

“But would it be cool to—”

“Again, no,” Seungmin interrupted before you could careen off onto one of your tangents about the merits of this person or that. Except, this person featured all too commonly in those tangents, and Seungmin was tired of hearing it. “I don’t want to hear about the exact wave pattern in Han Jisung’s hair or how long you think he’d had that leather jacket. And I definitely don’t want to hear your thoughts on his skinny jeans.”

You smirked, turning back to the table in front of you on which you’d neatly arranged your lunch: grapes, almonds, a container of rice, and a mix of vegetables and fish. You hadn’t necessarily been planning to rant about Jisung, but now that Seungmin mentioned it…

“What do you think he does when he’s not in school?” you mused, chasing a bit of cabbage around the bottom of your lunch container with your chopsticks. “I mean, he seems to just exist in his own little world—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with anyone except Minho and Chan, and even then, not that often.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Seungmin yawned, resting his chin on his hand. “Probably goes off to some corner and broods. That’s what guys like him do: brood and very obviously not talk about how emotionally distraught they are or whatever. But in a Byronic way—I don’t think Jisung has a violent bone in his body.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at your best friend, who was steadily losing patience with the whole conversation. “I can think of one bone that might be quite . . . angry and maybe violent but probably just hard. Good with forceful th—”

“I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT HAN JISUNG’S DICK, Y/N!” Seungmgin burst out, drawing stares from the other students seated at neighboring tables, including Jisung himself. You made to bang your head on the table, more embarrassed than you’d been in a long time.

Seungmin, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “Y-Y/N, oh my god, I’m sorry. Hey, don’t hit me!” This was because you had started playfully but insistently punching his thigh. “It’s fine,” Seungmin continued, trying to reassure you. “It’s not like I said anything that would— Oh shit, he’s coming over here.”

You tried to slide under the table, but only succeeded in getting yourself stuck before shimmying back into your seat. You looked up just in time to see Jisung slide into the seat opposite you and lean meaningfully on the table.

“So, Y/N,” he drawled, flashing a feline grin at you. “What exactly did I just hear?”

“I didn’t say anything, Han,” you retorted, nose aloofly in the air.

Jisung sighed. “Okay, okay, maybe you didn’t say anything, but Seungmin definitely did.” Seungmin spluttered and shook his head violently, really not wanting to be drawn into your squabble.

“So?” you said casually, still picking at your lunch. Meanwhile, your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. “So what if he said something?”

“Why would Seungmin say anything about me, though,” Jisung said. “It’s not like you two like me or anything.”

You just stared at Jisung. Why did he sound petulant? “No, we don’t. You didn’t hear anything, so go away!”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Jisung wheedled. “I know you’re curious….”

“Han, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jisung protested, leaning back as his hands waved wildly.

“I—” you began, and gulped. “It’s just… You’re just this moody guy who walks around like he owns the place. And you wear tight skinny jeans that leave very little to the imagination. How could I not assume you at least think you have . . . um, yeah.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Seungmin moaned, and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

Jisung had leaned forward now and was staring at you intently. You looked away, even more embarrassed than before, and he sighed.

“Y/N, I’m not quite sure what to say, besides the fact that I like my tight pants.” He paused, then chuckled lightly and winked. “And that you clearly like my tight pants, too.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and blurted. “Why are you even talking to us, Han?”

Jisung stopped as he rose from the table. “I was intrigued. Plus, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Han winked, then turned and walked back to Chan and Changbin.

You just watched him go—casually appreciating the view—completely stunned. Had Han Jisung just said you were cute? Ugh?

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” Seungmin was shaking your shoulder. “Y/N, you might start drooling if you don’t watch out.”

Coming back to yourself, you hurriedly shut your mouth and demanded, “Did he just say I was cute?”

“How am I supposed to know? I had my fingers in my ears!” Seungmin exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“Well, you are no help whatsoever,” you grumbled, and went back to eating your food.

Seungmin was silent for a moment, then said, “Do- Do you like him?”

You almost choked on your rice. “What?”

“Do you like him?” he repeated.

“The last time I checked, I definitely didn’t like Han Jisung. He annoys the hell out of me!”

Like the traitor he was, your best friend just made a ruminative noise and smiled down at his food.

↠↞

There was a park along the route you walked to and from school every day, and you liked to cut through to its other side as a short cut and to have some time in nature. Today, the leaves rustled loudly under your feet as you wove between the trees, distracting you sufficiently that you were completely wrapped up in your thoughts until your eye caught on a spot of black.

You stopped and squinted, brows furrowed ever so slightly. You couldn’t be sure, but that looked to be Han Jisung squatting under an oak at the edge of the park. Thinking the last thing you wanted was Jisung to see you spying—no, simply watching as you, too, strolled through the park—on him, you ducked behind a tree.

A few feet away from Jisung, assuming it was him, a squirrel sat on its haunches. It looked like he was talking to the squirrel, holding out his hand with a small pile of sunflower seeds resting in its center. As you watched, the squirrel, clearly used to this sort of thing, scurried forward and then away, its prize of seeds securely held in its mouth. This happened several times: the squirrel snatching a few seeds, stashing them around the other side of the tree, then coming back to retrieve more from Jisung’s hand. Strangest of all, you could have sworn you heard cooing along the lines of, “Aren’t you so good? Yes, you’re such a good little squirrel. Ooooh mhmm that tastes good, doesn’t it!”

Seeing the boy stand, you pulled your torso back behind the tree and peeked out as he walked away with a spring in his step. Yes, that was definitely Jisung.

Lost in your thoughts, you began to walk home. Feeding squirrels and talking to them was not “bad boy” behavior—of that much you were certain. So, did this mean that Jisung wasn’t as bad as you’d thought? Or was he slowly killing the squirrel by lacing the seeds with poison?

You shook your head, scolding yourself for such thoughts. But the fact remained: Han Jisung fed the squirrels and acted distinctly cute around them, and seemed to drop the persona he cultivated at school.

In a nutshell: you were confused.

The next day, you walked home the same way and at the same time, hoping you’d catch Jisung with the squirrel again. As you neared the edge of the park, sure enough, there was Jisung. You wrestled with your conscience for a moment, then walked the last meters to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?!” Jisung exclaimed, shooting to his feet and almost hitting you in the nose with the back of his head. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I was walking home,” you said innocently, giving Jisung a bright smile.

The young man in front of you was shifting back and forth on his feet. “Did you see—“

“Did I see you talking to a squirrel?” You grinned now, crossing your arms. “Yes. Yes, I did, Han.” Jisung spluttered. “Not so bad a boy, are you?”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that!” he begged. “Just because I wear all black, brood, and write emo poetry—“

“Hah! So you do write it!”

Jisung gave you a look. “Yes, I write poetry and song lyrics for my friends. What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirped.

“Can you-“ Jisung sighed. “Can you at least not tell anyone that I feed and talk to the squirrels? It’s, like, my own way of doing good, you know?”

“Sure, I won’t tell anybody. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, the more you know…” Jisung said and, yet again, winked at you before striding away. You admired the stark contrast between his black clothes and the oranges, yellows, and reds of the leaves on the ground.

↠↞

A couple of weeks later at the end of October, your English class was lucky enough to go on a weekend camping trip to experience the misty atmosphere in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Part of you thought that your teacher was a bit odd for wanting them all to get spooked by mist, but you couldn’t argue with the fact that the foliage was beautiful. After a long day of traipsing through the forest to find the perfect lookout point for the next morning’s mist viewing, the class gathered around a fire to eat and talk.

The fire was warm in front of you where you sat on a conveniently placed log; if you'd been any closer, you would have definitely singed something. You'd been a bit stupid and hadn't brought a proper jacket, thinking the evenings would still be warm at the end of October, but oh how wrong you were. Your nose was cold and your hands were even colder, a fact you tried to hide by sitting on your hands. Soon, however, your shoulders and back felt the slight breeze the rustled the leaves surrounding the clearing.

Across the fire, Jisung tracked your every move with bright eyes. In truth, he’d been watching you all evening and noticed that you were now cold. He noticed a lot about you these days, really. You didn’t see him quietly staring, his black clothes turning him nearly invisible, but you knew he was there on the other side of the flames.

You jumped a little, shoulders shrugging as warmth settled around them, and looked around. On the log next to you sat Jisung, like the piece of the night sky come to earth.

“Better?” he asked casually.

“Y-yeah.”

The two of you sat there silently as your classmates gossiped and ate around you. Occasionally, you saw someone glance your way, then turn back to their friends as if Jisung’s stare repelled them. You’d expected to feel awkward around him, expected to feel some dark aura radiating off him, but it was easy to sit with Jisung. His leather jacket was wonderfully warm, it’s weight around your shoulders oddly comforting, and the faint smell of whatever soap Jisung used caught on the collar made you smile.

“Here,” Jisung said softly, holding out the flask that always hung at his hip. “Have a sip—it’ll warm you up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m not going to drink, especially since we’re on a school trip,” you hissed.

“It’s just tea, Y/N,” Jisung said, tone affronted. “What did you think I had in here?”

“I- Tea is fine. Thanks.” You took the proffered flask and sipped what was perfectly brewed and sweetened black tea. The hot liquid sliding down your throat to your stomach was a delicious feeling. You returned the flask to Jisung, your fingers brushing as you did so.

The fire crackled, sparks flying up as sticks fell and broke apart. But these were not the only sparks that were flying around that fire. Between you and Jisung there seemed to be a thread of energy along which those other sparks danced, and, unexpectedly, you wanted to follow that thread to its end with the young man beside you.

Every now and then, you glanced at Jisung. And, every now and then, he glanced at you. After five tense minutes of this madness, you finally glanced at each other at the same time and smiled nervously.

“So,” Jisung began, “um…”

“Hmm?”

“May I say something?”

“I- Yeah, sure.”

Jisung took a deep breath, hands twisting in his lap. “Y/N, I have what’s got to be the biggest crush ever on you. And if you don’t return the feelings, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll never mention it again and I’ll make sure to leave you alone or whatever you want,” he said in a rush.

You wrapped Jisung’s jacket closer around yourself and turned slightly on the log to face him. The firelight danced in his eyes, the look in them soft and searching. His lips were parted slightly, as if to say something.

“It’s okay, Jisung,” you murmured, realizing that this was the first time you’d called him ‘Jisung’, at least to his face. “I think— I think I like you, too.”

Jisung’s face lit like the sun that would rise hours later with the dawn, his smile glorious. “Really?” he asked excitedly.

“Mhmm, I do.”

“That’s great,” Jisung breathed, and made to shift closer to you but stopped himself. “Um, so what now?”

“Want to cuddle?” You hardly believed that you’d just said that, but with Jisung’s jacket around you and him sitting so close, you couldn’t help it.

Jisung laughed and held out his arms to you, and you scooted closer to him so that you leaned against his as his arms went around you. After a couple minutes of shifting positions, the two of you settled. You could practically feel Jisung smiling behind you as you rested your head against his shoulder. Like your own, his heartbeat was faster than usual from nerves and excitement, which made you feel quite proud. You’d actually made the cool, seemingly confident bad boy of the school nervous.

Thinking you’d mess with him a little, you turned your face up to his and kissed his jaw. Jisung nearly jumped, which would have deposited both of you squarely on the cold ground, and then looked at you.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

“Won’t know until we try, right?” you replied.

Jisung needed no further prompting and brought his lips to yours, sending a current of warmth along that thread between you. You had to smile because, completely unexpectedly, you liked kissing Jisung. You liked it a lot and would be perfectly happy to continue kissing him all night long, if given the chance.

Drawing back from Jisung, you noticed your classmates staring at you and Jisung, and smirked back at them. Unlike you, they didn’t have a cute boy to kiss and cuddle with. They weren’t the chosen person for the Han Jisung.

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stayhavennet #stayracha #0325-net #ultkpop #han jisung #han jisung fluff #han jisung fanfic #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #han jisung drabbles #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids han jisung #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz jisung #skz x reader #stray kids high school au #moonlit-han #.moonlight

[internalsealpanic]

The Thorn pt.1

summary: “Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

 or my 6 thousand word essay on why I want more Sugar daddy!Slade fics.

a/n: This is just straight up smut Never combine stress thirst plus an amazing enabler. Thanks to @littleredwing89 for basically co-writing. Also I need more case fics with undercover gentlemen’s clubs stuff.  I will edit this for grammar later. 

warnings: mentions of murder and sexual assault (for the case), mirror sex, collars, oral (male receiving), choking, kind of public sex?, size kink (this is to be expected at this point), strength kink,  reader is kind of a dumbass, and praise kink. 

villain’s masterlist or masterlist

Saying this wasn’t your scene would be like saying the sun is bright. Obvious but wholly inadequate in describing just how out of your depth you are. You cross your arms over your chest in a futile attempt to shield them from prying eyes. The soft fabric of your lingerie feeling too little in contrast to the men clad in expensive suits leering at you as they passed your skittish form.

 You try to swallow down the nervousness. You try to tell yourself this is fine, that it’s just for the case. But the silk collar tied tightly around your neck and your own fraying nerves made it extremely difficult to ignore just how vulnerable you felt. 

 God, what made your awkward ass think you could pull this off?

 You lift your head, eyeing the other men and women around you. You all wore matching silk ribbons tied into bows behind your neck, a circular, silver tag hanging off of it. You wrinkle your nose at how young some of them look. Some barely look old enough to be anywhere near a place like this. 

 Part of you feels thankful that you shut Nicky’s idea down to go with a leather lingerie set but the stark contrast of your lacy lingerie set made you stand out too much in the sea of leather. It made you stand out just enough to color both your cheeks and ears from the amount of attention you were getting. You close your eyes trying to ignore the heat permeating from your skin. You try to focus on the details of the case. 

 For the last 8 months, there’s been an increase in the number of young men and women going missing and turning up dead. The assumption had been that it was due to the increase in gang activity but something felt off about the deaths. 

 Nothing was consistent. The victim type, the area, and even the M.O. of sexual assault were varied. Only the mode of death was even close to being consistent but even that presented its own problems. The injuries were too clean, too efficient for the killer to have drawn any pleasure from it especially when contrasted with the victims’ other injuries.  Normally people who make those injuries have a certain type and a certain way of doing things. And the clean efficiency of the disposal method had easily ruled out any of the local gangs. 

 When you brought all of this up to your boss, he waved you off saying something about looking into it. Somehow not getting fired after screaming at your boss (probably because you’re one of the few crime scene techs willing to stay in this shithole), you decide to conduct your own investigation. The more clues you uncovered (out of sheer spite) the more they seemed to point to an organized crime group, likely involved in trafficking.

 Finally, after a month and a half of searching, you found a solid lead. Augustus Klineberg. Despite the name, he was new money. At least, here in Merit.  

 “I’m his type!”

 “And so are a dozen bodies laying around in the lab, what’s your point?”

 “Sita, got me a part-time job at the Thorn.”

 It hadn’t been easy. The thorn was an exclusive gentlemen’s club that specialized in certain kinks. It had taken Sita a week to even get you an interview but after that they eagerly accepted you with worrying enthusiasm. Either way, this conversation was simply a formality. 

 Bernard stares at you and you watch as his entire being crumples into the dining room table. He turns to his husband pleadingly. “Nicky, Please, my love, talk some sense into her.”

 You turn to Nicky who is innocently sipping from his coffee mug filled with whatever ungodly creation came to Bernard in the dead of night. He tilts his head back seemingly collecting the right words. “Y/n has a point.”

 “No! Not you too!”

 “Yes!”

 “Bern, think about it. Klineberg would never suspect her and unlike most of Klineberg’s victims, Y/n is a ninja gremlin.”

 Bernard gives him a withering look while you snort. Nicky shrugs and continues to drink his, what you assumed was, liquid crack. 

 “Y/n, are you sure about this? The Thorn- Well, it isn’t exactly like your other undercover jobs.” You give both of them a cocky smile, biting into your mini waffle. “It can’t be that hard. All I have to do is sit there and look pretty.” At that little remark, Nicky burst out into a fit of laughter loud enough to wake the neighbors. 

You run your hand through your hair still, feeling flustered. You need air. 

 “Hey Nina, I’m gonna need like maybe 5 minutes.”

 “Sure, just don’t blame me for whatever excuse I give the bossman,” Nina says, shrugging at you. She flips her red curls over her shoulder, winking at a patron and tilting her hips to show off her curves. Both you and the patron are slack-jawed and entranced. Maybe you should try that sometime? Some time being after you stop gawking at Nina’s ass and probably also after you take in some air. 

 You shuffle away awkwardly keeping your eyes to the ground. You shrink into yourself easily as you cut through the crowd. This case was going to be the death of you and Bernard’s eulogy would just be a very short but satisfying ‘I told you so’. 

 Mercifully, you find a quieter area. You would have preferred to go outside but standing alone in a dark alley in skimpy underwear might be a bad idea. You flatten yourself against a wall and close your eyes. Maybe you could tell them you aren’t feeling well which isn’t entirely untrue. You felt sick being this vulnerable. You should probably leave before you do something stupid. 

 A hand on your wrist drags you back to reality. It takes absolutely everything in you not to break his wrist. You open your eyes to see Klineberg hoovering in your personal space. 

 “Are you ok?” He asks, the concern in his voice sounding synthetic. You try to wriggle out of his hold not bothering to hide your discomfort. You note how his smile seems to get bigger as you struggled more. Clearly, he was enjoying your discomfort. 

   “Thanks for finding her for me. The manager said she’d be in this general area but it’s quite hard to see with just one eye.” Slade says casually, settling a large hand on the man’s shoulder. Your heart stops. Of all the people you had to run into-

  Klineberg eyes him skeptically. You have to respect him for that. You’ve faced Slade several times before, only making it out due to luck or hours of planning. If you were Klineberg, you’d be pissing yourself. Despite the almost friendly expression Slade had on him, you can tell this wasn’t up for negotiation. And apparently, so can Klineberg seeing how he dropped your hand. 

 Slade waves a neatly dressed man over. The man eyes you appraisingly and your heart takes an express elevator to your throat. Were you that obviously out of place? 

 “We’ll be taking a room.”

 “Of course, sir,” The man answers politely, finally, taking his eyes off of you and handing Slade a key. 

 Wait. We?

 Slade starts walking without a word, the crowd parting for him easily.  You briefly look back at Klineberg who is still looking at you like he’s going to tear you apart with his bare hands before following Slade.  

 You walk behind him wordlessly. Your mind is still reeling from the fact that Slade ‘Deathstroke: The Terminator’ Wilson just saved you from your target and your own terrible acting and is mortified by the fact that he has now seen you in skimpy lingerie. The steps you take are measured, making sure to stick close to him but not too close.  You keep your eyes to the ground as you walk behind him, hoping it’s enough to hide the expressions cycling through your face. 

 You two enter a room. It was unexpectedly spacious even under the dim neon lights. You look around finding the room furnished with expensive decorations looking nothing like the seedy gentlemen’s clubs you’ve busted before save for the pole in the middle of the room. It looked more akin to an expensive hotel bar, again, save for the pole. The darkness of the room and the quiet flow of the music set quite the intimate atmosphere which just made you that more skittish. 

 Slade makes his way across the room, eyes searching the corners and spaces of the room. He nods seemingly satisfied with the setup and likely not spotting any recording devices. Your stiff shoulders loosen a bit, if nothing else you could at least speak plainly now. 

 Slade takes his suit jacket off, revealing broad shoulders and the outline of strong back muscles. Your throat dries. Something warm stirs in you and you’re gawking again. God, you really need a better reaction to attractive people. 

 Slade holds out a glass of whiskey to you, a playful smile on his handsome face. He doesn’t seem to mind you staring at him. You swear viciously not skimping on colorful words but walk over to take the alcohol regardless. It’s on his tab and you honestly needed some alcohol in your system if you’re going to talk to him.

 “So, working for the cops not work out for you?”

 “Nah, my last sugar daddy just kicked the bucket, so I’m looking for a new one,” you say, giving Slade a wry smile.  You watch him cross one leg over another easing into a relaxed position through the wall. It was polished to a mirror shine. You guess that’s the kind of thing rich people liked. 

 “Hmmm, that can be arranged.” You choke on your drink. You scowl at him. He simply shrugs at you taking a sip of his whiskey. 

 You hear the door open, forcing you to pretend to be civil. A man around your age, dressed in a classic waiter’s outfit comes in with a tray of whiskey and two glasses. You don’t know how but you can tell the whiskey is worth more than your apartment. This doesn’t help your urge to punch Slade. 

“Will you be requiring any special toys tonight, sir?” The straightforward tone of the question makes you stiffen more than anything. The man’s eyes flicker towards you but his focus remains squarely on Slade who eyes you openly before smiling and saying “No, thanks, Anthony. I think we’ll be just fine.”

 "If you say so, sir. Please feel free to let us know if you need anything." 

 You wait for Anthony to leave before turning the full force of your scowl at Slade.“How the hell did you know his name?”

 Slade regards you impassively over the rim of his glass. You refuse to break eye contact.  He raises his hands in mock surrender.  “Alright, Kitten, you caught me. I do frequent this club quite a bit.”

 “You kinky shit.”

 He eyes you again, his eye clearly tracing your curves. “I’m not the one sitting here in their underwear with a collar on. Speaking of which-” Slade nods his head towards something in front of both of you. 

 You look at the pole, blinking dumbly as a smile spreads across his face. He tips his head to it. “I did pay for your time and the customer is always right.”

 Your mouth twists into a snarl as the tips of your ears run red. “You are insufferable.”

 “Don’t make me call the manager.” You sigh at the unspoken ‘it is definitely going to blow your cover and get you shot. At best.’ and begrudgingly you make your way to the pole. 

 You grip the pole in front of you, flexing your fingers against the cold metal. Anxiety thrums under your skin. Your eyes flick nervously to Slade who’s got the audacity to sit comfortably, sip whiskey, and smirk at you as if he was completely in his element. 

 “No need to be shy. Be a good girl and give us a good show,” he says, winking at you. Your hackles rise and your face pulls into a frown before rearranging itself into a sultry smile. You put one heel in front of you, hooking your leg around the pole and grinding your clothed sex into the metal in an undulating motion that has Slade clenching his hand around his glass. You try your hardest to grin and you suspect you’ve failed. Not that Slade’s noticed considering his eye is laser-focused on your ass. 

 With your one leg on the floor, you push yourself into a spin. Your body tips back as your hand runs down your face, chest, and abdomen drawing attention to the plains of exposed skin and delicate fabric accenting your shape. Pulling your body back up, you let your body slide down to the floor. Your legs split as soon as you made contact with the floor giving him a full view of your ass. He whistles appreciatively, tilting his head. You watch him through thick lashes, eyes bright and predatory under the neon lights. You roll onto your hand and knees. He smiles down at you watching the sweat drip down the valley of your breasts.  You were a sight to behold. 

 Slade pats his knee. “Come here, kitten.” Hunger flashes in his blue eye. It sends a warm shock through your system. It’s odd being looked at like that but you can’t feel yourself getting too concerned over it. Not when it sends a pleasant hum through your mind. 

 You crawl towards him in time with the movement, slow and steady in its place. Stopping in front of him. A large hand grasps your chin, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.  

 You sit on his lap, hand grasping his broad shoulder. Embarrassment floods back into your system now that you’re this close, now that you had the full force of that hungry gaze on you. You feel your skin heat and the weight of his gaze makes your stomach flip. 

 Seduction was other people’s gig, not yours. 

 Large hands settle on your waist, pressing circles into your skin. The buzzing feeling in your brain returns and you refocus on your task. His hands slide down the side of your body, fingers digging into your hips. His hands follow the circular motions your hips make on his crotch and guides you over the growing bulge. You hear his breath catch and hiss as you grind down on his crotch. You wrap your hands around the silk tie dangling from his neck and roughly pull him into a kiss.  

 His fingers dig into the meat of your ass drawing an embarrassingly loud yelp from you and giving him access to your mouth. You suck on his tongue and receive a pleased groan from him. Your tongues wrestle for control as he kneads your ass, making you mewl and moan into the kiss. You break the kiss needing air while Slade admires his work. 

 When Slade dips in for another kiss, you pull away pushing off of his broad chest a flirty smile dancing across your features. You turn from him, heels clicking against the floor as your show off the lushness of your figure.  In the mirror, you see Slade settling back into his position and grinning at the corners of the room again. His arms relax on the back of the couch. 

You close your eyes and let the music swallow you whole. You don’t dare hazard a glance at the mirror. You sashay your hips to the music, loosening your tense muscles. You open your eyes giving Slade your best seductive smile. You run your hands up your body, tangling into your hair. 

 You bite your lip as you slide them back down. Your fingers catch against the collar. Slade’s mouth twists.  

 You ease your arms out of your bra and let it drop to the floor. Your nipples pebble in the cold night air. The sight of them makes the corners of Slade’s mouth twitch. You push past the warmth stirring in your stomach in favor of trailing your hands down your body. Your fingers toy with the straps of your panties, watching as Slade licks his lips in anticipation.  You slide the flimsy garment down your legs, bending over and giving him a good view of your wet pussy through the mirror. 

 Stepping out of them, you toss them at Slade, who just to be an asshole, catches and pockets them. He grins at you and shrugs unapologetically. You scowl at him putting as much venom into your features as much as possible.      

You sway your lush hips in time with the music, letting the slow beat dictate the rhythm of your movements as you saunter towards him. You swallow, the silk collar still wound tightly around your neck. The intensity of his gaze makes you painfully aware of your nakedness but the embarrassment heating your skin shoots straight to your core, making you shudder. 

 Reaching him, you straddle his thighs, your plump ass grazing over his growing bulge. You moan, mouth-watering at the sensation. Your mind dwells on the feeling, your insides growing slick at the thought of him inside you. 

 Your fingers trail up your thighs and up over your stomach. You watch as his eye follows the slow tantalizing movement. His large hands grip onto the plush headrest of the couch, squeezing them as his face twists just a smidge with a mix of exertion and frustration. 

 You give him a playful smile as you slow the gyrating of your hips. A growl rumbles from his chest and you snap your hips back against his erection, the loose movement of your body hypnotic like ocean waves. Tipping your head back into his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. Your hips continue to undulate against him, feeling the deep bass of the music ripple through your body along with the shockwaves of heat coming from your core as you grind it against his bulge. The coarse feeling of the fabric against your core making your knees grow weak.  

 A sinful moan tumbles out of your lips followed closely by breathy panting. You let your eyes slide shut soaking up the sensation of his suit against your skin. You reach behind you hooking your arms around Slade’s broad shoulders to steady yourself as your press closer to his large form. He presses his lips to your neck, the prickle of his beard against your skin making you shiver. “Yeah, just like that, kitten,” he murmurs against your skin, a large hand settling on your thigh.

 You push further into him. You grind your hips, the movement deep and slow. Your hand tangles in his hair, gently guiding him to your lips. Your lips move against each other just as your bodies do, slow and sensual. You catch his lips between your teeth, nipping at it. He chuckles at your invitation, sliding his tongue inside your mouth and joining your lips once again. Below you, you feel another large hand hook onto your thigh. Both hands grip your thighs fiercely pulling them further apart, exposing your sopping pussy to the cold night air. 

 Slade breaks away from your kiss, his panting breaths hot fanning your face. You stare at each other with half-lidded eyes, lust bright in them even in the low light. He captures your lips again in a quick kiss before planting one on your shoulder. “Play with yourself,” he says, the command steady and rough against your ear. 

 The tone of his voice makes you shiver as you reluctantly release your hold on his shoulders. Keeping one hand tangled in his hair, you slowly slide your hand down your body, mewling into his skin when you reach into your neglected folds. You slip two fingers in immediately. You shudder and bite your lips trying to stop any obscene sounds from escaping. 

 A hand tilts your chin, coaxing you. “Good girl, look at yourself. Look just how wet you are just for me, kitten,” Slade says, nibbling at your ear. You yelp, your hips bucking into your hand, ass rolling against his member. You watch yourself in the mirror red-faced, open-mouthed, and sinful. Your dripping sex is in full view only obscured by your hand as your fingers dip in and out of your core. Slade’s eye never leaves the mirror even as he plants kisses against your skin. His large hand grasps your neck making sure you don’t look away from the mirror. You think of how easily he could break you and you feel like you’re on fire. 

 You're so close.  You’re so so close. You can even see the desperation carving itself so plainly on your face. Anxiety and arousal mix into a potent cocktail in your gut. The nervousness from earlier rearing its ugly head. You whine in frustration, adding in a third finger but you can’t seem to reach over the edge. You hear him chuckle behind you and see him grin into your skin. At least, one of you was having fun. 

 He gives your shoulder another rough kiss, leaving a mark before speaking. “Having some trouble, kitten?” You wrinkle your nose at his tone but...in truth, you were. You bite your lip not knowing what to say. You’re so close but… the venue made you shy and that was an entirely different problem.  Using the hand on your neck, Slade tilts your head towards him, the heat from his lips ghosting over yours. “All you have to do is ask for help, kitten,” he murmurs against your lips. The vibrations send another shockwave of desperation wreaking havoc throughout your already oversensitive body. 

 He tilts your head back to look at the mirror. You can feel your ears warm at the thought of begging but you’re a hair’s breadth away from your end. Biting your lips and furrowing your brow, you take a steadying breath but it still comes out breathy when you exhale due to the hand squeezing your thigh drifting closer to your core. He presses slow circles into your inner thigh with his thumb, his teeth nibbling at your shoulder leaving marks. A vicious curse leaves your lips blunted by a moan that follows it. 

 “Slade, please. Please. Sir, please.”

 “Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

 You tighten your grip on his hair and roll your hips against his. He growls in your ear but he doesn’t budge. “Use your words, kitten,” he commands, sounding far more patient than he actually is. You whimper, rocking against him. He holds you still, fingers digging into your flesh and body leaning into yours. “Words.”

 You pant, hot breaths loud in your ears. Whether it was his or your own you were hearing, you didn’t know and didn’t care, not when your head was jumbled with the buzzing under your skin. You swallow. His eye following the movement of your throat and the silver glint of your tag winking at you in the mirror. “Slade- Sir, please- Please, I need you. I need you inside me.”

 “That wasn’t too hard now was it?” He says capturing your lips in a rough kiss. You scream against his lips when you feel two large calloused fingers thrust into your core, stretching you replacing the ache in your core with a burning stretch. Slade releases you, steadying you so that your eyes are once again on the mirror. You both watch as his fingers pump in and out of you, the room filling up with your moans. “Keep your eyes on the mirror and watch as I make you cum.”

 He presses his thumb against your clit. The syllables of his name coming out garbled and incoherent. You cum with a whimper. Your body shakes uncontrollably, your bones melting. Your lungs take in greedy gulps of oxygen feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of them. Slade lets your head lull back against his shoulder. You press little kisses against the powerful muscles of his neck. “Thank you, sir.”

 Slade removes his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling empty. “Clean up the mess you made,” he orders, pressing wet fingers against your lips. You open your mouth letting them in. You slide your eyes shut and swirl your tongue around them. You bob your head taking them in deep. You moan, rocking your hips against his still hard cock, letting yourself imagine what it would be like to take him into your mouth. Your enthusiasm earns you a hiss from Slade. You smile as you continue to suck on his fingers and rock your body, the fire in the pit of your stomach reigniting. You flutter your eyes open. In the mirror, you see Slade, brow raised and mouth wrangled into a shape of wry amusement. “See, I knew you were a good girl,” he says voice strained. You grind your ass into him as you moan around his fingers. You gasp when a rough hand grasps your breast, nipple pinched between calloused fingers. 

 “Are you that hungry for my cock, kitten?” he asks, removing his fingers from your lips. Both your lips and his fingers glisten with your saliva. You nod not trusting your voice to be steady. He thankfully accepts it.  

 “Well, have at it,” he says, hands repositioning themselves on the back of the couch easing into a more relaxed position and looking as smug as humanly possible. He really is getting his money’s worth out of this. You shift your body making sure you brush up against his erect member as you did so. He looks almost pained when you finally face him. You drag your hands up and down his shirt, his muscles barely hidden by the soft silky material. You lick your lips, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. You slide yourself down his body, hands kneading and worshipping every stretch of muscle they come across. Fuck, they feel so good to your touch. 

 Getting to your knees, you rest your cheek against his knee. You let mischief shape your features. He quirks his brow at you, tilting his strong jaw urging you to move on. You massage his thighs as you pull yourself up. You undo his belt tossing it to the side. You pinch the zipper of his pants between your teeth and pull it down, grinning as you do it. Slade lifts his hips a bit to help you ease his pants and boxers down. Your mouth waters visibly when his cock springs free in all its glory. You gulp audibly as you figure the logistics of fitting all of it into your mouth. 

 “Take your time, Kitten. I’ve requested you for the whole night. We have time.” He drawls, smug. You roll your eyes at him finally deciding that head-on was the only way to tackle this. You lick a strip up his member paying special attention to the large vein running down the middle. You flick your eyes up to him, seeing his muscles tense. You grasp the base of his cock tight in your hand, kissing the tip and giving the slit a long, languid lick. The taste of precum wakes your taste buds. You hum, sucking lightly at the head, your hand twisting up and down his cock. His jaw tightens, the strain of keeping his hips still tightening the muscles of his thighs. 

 You spread your legs wide as you sink your head down taking him in and giving him a good view of your wet pussy. You take him in as far as you can, gagging when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. The corners of your eyes sting with tears. You still yourself, letting your throat relax around him. You pull yourself back up. Your plush lips massage his length as you go and your warm hand not trailing far behind. You keep your mouth on the head of his cock before sinking back down. His sheer girth is sure to make your jaw ache but you couldn’t make yourself care, not when you’re growing wetter the more you worship his cock. Slade for his part looked like he was gonna tear the couch apart every time you sank down to take is cock on, the fluttering walls of your throat driving him up the wall. The soft music of the room was now barely audible against the mingling sounds of your moans. Slade’s unrestrained voice was dripped with whiskey and sin. 

 His cock twitches in your throat and it’s the only warning you get before cum splashes against the back of your throat and fills your mouth. You choke but when your eyes meet his, the muscles of your throat work automatically to swallow his load. The movement followed closely by his eye. You pull back, light-headed. He grabs your chin, tilting it up to inspect your mouth. He hums satisfied.  “Kitten, that mouth of yours is definitely worth more than the price of admission.” He says brushing a thumb against your bottom lip as you pant. 

 A familiar ache in your core returns when your eyes land on Slade’s still hardened cock.  

 “Of course, a little cockslut like you wouldn’t be satisfied ‘til you’ve been filled,” he chuckles pulling you into his lap so that you’re facing the mirror, your dripping pussy hovering over his saliva covered cock. The throbbing head teasing against your sensitive folds. He kisses your shoulder, his teeth pinching your skin leaving another red bruise. You whine as he guides your hips, moving them to ever so slightly brush your core against his cock. 

 “Sir, please. I need you. I- I need you to fuck me,” you beg, hands tangling in his hair and eyes watching his member in pained hunger. You sound so needy but you also needed him inside you filling you up. 

 Slade hums in your ear approvingly. He pinches your ear lobe between his teeth, making you keen. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” That was the only warning you got before his hands guide your hips down onto his engorged cock. Your walls flutter with every inch, stretching you with every inch. A hand cups your breast while he continues to guide you down onto his cock. Rough calloused fingers knead your breast as he whispers compliments into your skin in between kisses. The cacophony of sensations is almost too much for you. 

 “Such a good cockslut, look at how well that tight cunt of yours is taking me in.” You roll your hips, urging him to quicken his maddeningly slow pace. He simply chuckles at your attempt as both his hands steady your hips. You almost cry in relief when he finally bottoms out. You pant savoring the burning stretch tearing at your insides. Pleasure and pain mingling in your sense.  

 Slade rests his chin against your shoulder, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “Kitten, I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock,” he says, in a low commanding tone making you shiver and leaving no room for arguments. You grip on to his arms, nails digging into the meat of his muscle, to steady yourself. You lean forward to get yourself into a better angle. 

 Ah ah ah

 Breathy moans and the slap of skin against skin filled the air as you roll your hips against his. You watch yourself in the mirror, breasts bouncing, mouth hanging open, and tongue lolling out getting lost in the pleasure. The mixture of shadow and light highlighting and isolating the frantic need carving itself onto both of your faces. The coil in your stomach twists as your eyes meet his in the mirror. Icy blues trailing up and down your body possessively.   

 His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it gently as he trails kisses up your spine. Your hips stutter, your walls squeezing around his cock. “You like that?” he whispers into your ear, putting just the tiniest bit more pressure around your neck. You feel your walls flutter around him and he moans in your ear. His other hand squeezes at your hip, nails digging into your soft flesh.     

 With a growl, he snaps his hips against yours almost violent in its intensity. You let out a loud yelp. Slade jackhammers into you like a madman, pummeling your pussy. His tongue dragging against your sweat-covered skin.  “Cum with me, Kitten,” he grinds out, nipping at your ear. Your pussy clenches and unclenches around him trying to squeeze his cock, gripping him as if not wanting to let go of it. He bites a hickey into your neck and you feel the coil in your stomach burst. You feel a flood of warmth fill your aching core as Slade lets himself go. 

 He turns your body around to face him, careful not to separate you two. He pulls you into a deep kiss as both of you ride out your orgasms. 

 Your body slumps against Slade’s, head resting on his shoulder and chest pressing against his. Your breaths come out in puffs fanning against his neck. Slade presses a kiss to your forehead. You yawn and kiss his throat, his pulse hot against your lips. 

 “Satisfied?” he asks, pulling your wrist to his lips nipping and leaving marks on it. You wonder just how many marks he’s left on you and if he’s technically allowed to do that. It just seems bad for business. 

 “Yes, sir,” you answer, nuzzling into his shoulder. He chuckles, rubbing his large hands soothingly over your aching muscles. He holds you tenderly for a while, both of you basking in the afterglow.  

 Through thick lashes, you see Slade look at his watch. You whine when he starts to shift. Wrapping your arms around him, you press your body closer. You see his brow wrinkle and have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. Sucker. 

 Slade gives you another kiss as he reluctantly extricates himself from your warmth. You shiver at the motion. Your oversensitive walls flutter making him groan. You whimper at the feeling of emptiness as he gently places you on the soft cushions of the couch. He places another kiss on your forehead then your shoulder then your wrist as he drapes his jacket over you. “Sorry, kitten, I have some business I need to take care of,” he says tucking himself back into his pants. “But if you feel like a repeat performance, feel free to come back,” he continues, fixing his shirt as he grins down at you. Your stomach flips despite how tired you feel. 

 You watch him walk away then stop. “Oh and I’ll be keeping these,” he teases, holding up your panties and tucking them back into his pocket. You try to sit up intent on throwing the entire bottle of whiskey at him but your limbs fail you, still feeling like jelly.

  The next time you open your eyes is when you feel someone patting your cheek lightly. 

 “March,” Anthony’s voice comes out in a haze. It takes a second for your mind to recognize the name as your alias. You take a deep breath trying to quell the panic from being woken up. 

 “What time is it?”

 “A quarter past one.”

 Good, you’ve only been asleep for an hour.  

 “Thanks.”

 “You’re pretty lucky. Looks like Mr. Wilson was feeling generous,” Anthony laughs, thumb pointing to the stack of cash by the whiskey. 

 That asshole. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! 

a/n: This will be a 3 part series because I am thirsty as hell. 

  Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#Slade Wilson #slade wilson x reader #slade wilson smut #slade wilson imagine #dc smut

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Sweet Tooth”

So this little bitty drabble was originally written as an Easter one shot, and because I was just wanting some fluffy, happy fun. It takes place probably a couple of years in the future from the end of season six: Killian and Emma are married, they have a toddler daughter, and Henry is driving! I think that's really all you need to know in order to enjoy.

Can also be found in my “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” collection of one shots and drabbles on AO3 or ff.net. 

"Sweet Tooth"

by: @snowbellewells​

"Oh husband of mine…" Emma Swan's voice drifted into the living room from the hall with a playful lilt she'd never had much occasion to use before meeting and falling for Killian Jones. Well, she amended to herself wryly as she came up behind where he sat on their couch, hunched over furtively and clearly hiding something, at least not beyond skips she had intended to seduce before taking them down. Still, using it to toy with her pirate a bit before catching him in some form of mischief was a much more entertaining scenario.

She peered over his shoulder, eyes sparkling and a smug smile on her face, almost certain she knew what she was going to find, even as her fingers ran up his neck and scruffed through his coarse, dark hair before gipping it and pulling his head back a bit to meet her eyes where she hovered over him.

Satisfied merriment flickered across his devilishly handsome face and in Killian's brilliant blue gaze as she stared him down – almost as if he had wanted her to catch him all the time. It was in rare moments like this, precious bits of down time for the two of them together, in their home, safe and comfortable and able to simply be themselves, that Emma saw the playful, boyish side of Killian Jones emerge gleefully. He'd had to grow up so fast, just as she had, that when the little boy he had been before betrayal, slavery, pain, and deprivation, felt assured enough to peek through just a bit in play with her, with Henry, or with their daughter, it was beautiful to see. As a ship's captain in a dangerous realm, fighting beings like Rumplestiltskin or in tenuous cahoots with such devious compatriots as Cora or Pan, his buoyant, youthful nature had found little outlet for hundreds of lonely years. Now, however, it was sweeter, gentler than that, and it warmed Emma's heart.

As her eyes trailed from his, she easily spotted the bag of individually wrapped miniature candy bars which she had been hiding in the kitchen cabinet behind her cocoa mix. There were also three or four crumpled metallic gold Twix wrappers on the coffee table in front of him which Killian had not had time to hide. Not to mention the small trace of chocolate in the corner of his smile that she was already hankering to lick away in a slow, sultry kiss.

"You do know those were meant to be for the kids' Easter baskets, right?" she chided, pulling just the tiniest bit harder with the hand she had carded into his hair – all part of the teasing more than genuine irritation. Though, if he had demolished enough of her stash that she had to go back to Clark's mini-mart for more treats to take to Regina and her mother's ridiculous dressy dinner and egg hunt, then Killian was being dragged there with her to hear whatever town complaint Leroy would be standing at the counter yammering on about, to get an earful of Frederick and Kathryn debating which dog food was best for Ajax's coat and joints while they blocked the way down the aisle, to listen to Marco discussing the merits of hand tools versus power, Archie and Belle comparing notes on which herbal teas were best for calm and relaxation, to be sidetracked by Ashley wanting to get them on the PTA phone tree, or whomever else most felt the need to bend an objective listener's ear and so always managed to get her wrapped up in their conversations. It was why she could never return from what should be fifteen minute errands in much under an hour, and why she tried to stock up on all she could think of when she went. Yep, if her pirate had pilfered all the chocolate she bought ahead to avoid the holiday crowd, then he was getting a taste of the chore that shopping was for her.

Raising an eyebrow at her insouciantly, as if he had read her thoughts and had very much raided her collection merely to get a rise out of her, Killian hissed through his teeth just slightly at the increased pressure on his scalp and shifted restlessly on the couch, clearly feeling the tension and heat in the room creep upward just as inexorably as she did. Running his wicked tongue across his lower lip in an obscene gesture that both infuriated her and made her want to suck it into her own mouth, he brought his hand up to uncurl her fingers from his dark hair and pulled it down toward himself, making her lean further over the couch as he murmured, "Oh yes? Well, if that's the case, come and take them back from me."

Emma's breath stalled in her throat at his words; the look in his eyes as he gazed back at her upside down and waggling his eyebrows ridiculously should not be as devastating as he made it, but he unfairly turned the teasing around on her all too smoothly. By the time he had brought the hand he'd captured to his lips, tracing his warm, wet tongue across her palm and up her wrist to nip lightly at her suddenly racing pulse, she was on fire beneath her skin and ready to crawl over the back of the couch to get to him.

Humming lowly to himself, Killian continued his slow, deliberate path with lips, teeth and tongue up to her elbow, and Emma could only watch, entranced, panting and flushed. How had she lost control of this whole situation so quickly? She only wondered briefly to herself before silently admitting that she didn't really care if she had – only with Killian could she truly relish the relief of not having to take the lead and handle everything all the time. She was just moving around the end of the couch to take back the upper hand, and perhaps give Killian a taste of something well beyond pilfered chocolate, when Henry came thundering down the stairs into the room.

"Guys, come on!" he groaned, immediately flushing as red as his mother and turning away slightly. "You're in the middle of the living room!" He hadn't really seen anything scarring – yet – but the way both of them had sprung backwards and given him matching deer-in-the-headlight looks made where things had been headed crystal clear. It wasn't the first – nor would it be the last – time he'd walked into a heated moment about to turn into a raging inferno.

Shaking his head at them in good natured exasperation while Killian chuckled lowly with a shrug and his mom offered a sheepish "Sorry, Kid", Henry plowed on, holding up a somewhat crushed-looking, pink beribboned Easter basket. "I found Morgan's basket grandma made her last year," he announced wryly. "Don't ask why it's buried in the bottom of my closet, but here it is. I knew you were looking for it. She might actually be old enough to put something in it this year."

Both his mom and stepdad smirked with him then, remembering the vision of his year old sister contentedly trying to stuff a handful of grass into her mouth the year before.

With an added explanation that he was off to pick up Violet, and twirling his own newly acquired set of keys to David's old pickup – now his – in his hand, Henry was off with a teenaged warning to keep it PG, he thought he'd heard his little sister stirring from her nap on his way downstairs. "See you at 5!" he called at last, and then was out the door.

Emma sent Killian a devious little smile full of promise as they did indeed begin to hear the sounds of their young princess waking up and moving around in her room overhead. Morgan Ruth Jones was not afraid to make her presence and wakefulness known, and as if on cue, she began to call out for "Mama!" and "Papa!"

Still grinning as she jogged up the stairs to fetch their little girl and get her ready for the party, warning Killian that the rest of the chocolate needed to go in the plastic eggs not his mouth, and quickly, Emma contented herself with the anxiously happy thought that she still had a treat awaiting her when they got back home.

Tagging: @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jennjenn615​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​@tiganasummertree​ @laschatzi​ @winterbaby89​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @lfh1226-linda​ @shireness-says​ @snidgetsafan​ @ineffablecolors​ @let-it-raines​ @spartanguard​ @mayquita​ @thislassishooked​ @linda8084​ 

#cs one shot #ouat ff #cs fluff #cs future family #ouat Easter au ff #self promo sunday fic #sweet tooth

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 105

Chapter Summary -   Danielle is tired and jet-lagged, which is not a time to question her integrity.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle sighed as she crashed onto the bed after a long day. The heat, the time zone differences and if she was completely honest, she felt a little lonesome for Tom. Groaning as she felt herself getting a tad frustrated, she just lay on the bed and got her phone out, sending a quick “I’m alive” text before curling up against a pillow and falling asleep.

The next morning, she dragged herself out and forced herself into the shower before grabbing some pastries at the breakfast counter of the hotel and getting a cab to the offices of Lucas’ company.

‘How is the jet lag treating you?’

‘I want to sleep for a week, how do people do this?’

‘Your boyfriend does it a lot.’

‘Yes, and I have a newfound respect for him.’ She commented as she grabbed a very large cup of coffee.

‘May I ask you something?’ Danielle paused, she suspected whatever it was he was about to ask, Tom was the key part of it. She turned and looked at him, nodding. ‘Do you find it odd?’

‘What?’

‘Having a film star for a boyfriend?’

‘No, because to me, he’s Tom, dorky, book-loving Tom.’

‘But he has a big name.’

‘In certain circles.’

‘He could help you.’

Danielle’s jaw clenched slightly. ‘I don’t want or need help. And I am behind the scenes, so Tom’s name does little for me there, thankfully.’

‘You don’t want his help?’ Lucas asked curiously.

‘No.’ She stated firmly. ‘I don’t.’

‘He knows Branagh as well though?’ Danielle frowned. ‘I was talking to him, he was thanking me for suggesting you and then mentioned that it was great to bounce around ideas with you, that you were receptive to his ideas but also that you added your own input that he found valuable and that you brought your boyfriend along to speak with him.’

Danielle felt uneasy as to the tone he was using. ‘Yes, Tom knows Ken, they worked together before on a few projects, quite a few actually.’

‘But why bring him to a business meeting?’

‘Sure you know yourself, when both of you are home, it’s nice to actually do stuff with your other half. Your wife is so busy with work too, isn’t that why you had her at our meeting, to spend time with her while you could? We just had the added bonus that Tom and Ken know each other, so we got to have a wonderful conversation where effectively Ken embarrassed him with stories for my amusement and Tom and he got to actually spend time talking again, they are considering working together in the future as a result of that meeting.’ She smiled. ‘So, does that mean that technically, I got him a job, not the other way around?’

Lucas’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m not quite sure. So, you didn’t bring him to secure the job?’

This time, Danielle’s jaw clenched completely. ‘I have not, nor will I ever, use Tom to “secure a job” I will get by on my efforts and mine alone. I noticed the flaw, I wrote my piece that caught Browne’s attention and had him contact you, I went into that hotel and spoke to you regarding it, and though yes, you suggested me to Branagh, it was my talking that convinced him, you just said yourself there, my ability to add to his idea, he and Tom talked about Wallander and Thor and theatre, he and I spoke shop. Tom hasn’t a clue one end of a safety harness from the other, it is not his job to know.’ She rose from the table. ‘I am not sure I wish to continue with this if it is going to be assumed that I have Tom as a means to get ahead in my work, he went with me that day because I was shitting myself at the idea of a project that big with such a renowned actor, he dropped me the day of our meeting because he knew I was terrified but he didn’t come in, he respected me enough in my job to not do so. He knows I would never want to get anywhere on his coattails but on my own labours.’ She walked towards the door. ‘I am sorry it had to go like this, I really am.’ she sighed, walking out of the office.

As she pressed the elevator call button, she felt her heart begin to sink. She had thought her career was on the rise, but this had put it all to a halt. Part of her wondered if she was being petty, but the other part was highly insulted at the insinuation she was using Tom and his name to further herself. She worked hard, she didn’t have to use Tom’s name, nor would she. She loved Tom, not his name or influence. Angered and with a severe dislike of elevators anyway, she decided to go for the stairs, it was only fifteen floors down so she began her descent. When she opened the stairwell door into the lobby, she noticed Lucas standing in front of the elevator doors, she looked at him for a moment before focusing on the door and walking out it. She hailed a taxi and gave the address of her hotel, noting Lucas watching her from the doorway of his offices, but she refused to look at him.

In the safety of her hotel room, she kicked off her shoes and looked around, her files in hand. Danielle looked at them bitterly, all her hard work, her chances of getting somewhere, blasted from the water by the idea she had used her boyfriend’s name. She felt angry for a moment at Tom for costing her for a prestigious role. If he had been normal, an Average Joe, she would have gotten more credit for her hard work...she paused, feeling guilty. Danielle was no fool, she knew it was in no way Tom’s fault, she was just upset and venting. Tom was in Atlanta, blissfully unaware of the terrible mess her career was in. the thought of which caused her to pause for a moment. Her career was in shambles, one call from Lucas and Branagh could drop her, she could very easily be blacklisted and she would never be able to explain herself because of how the industry worked. Upset, she sat on the bed, heartbroken at how events had played out. She wanted to talk to Tom, to just hear his voice, but she was embarrassed, she did not want to tell him, she felt like a failure. With the word screaming like sirens in her head, she felt her chest starting to hurt from the sensation of it. She had failed.

As though by divine inspiration, her phone began to vibrate, taking it out, she looked sadly at it, a text from Tom, telling her he was proud of her and that he loved her. Danielle wanted to cry, but nothing happened, she merely stared sadly at the text, she felt unworthy of a successful and wonderful man such as Tom. she was about to throw the phone on the bed when she realised she had actually dialled his number, quickly, she pressed the cancel button, but only a moment later, he called back. Sadly, she pressed the answer button and put her phone to her ear, she was desperate to hear him. ‘Hey.’

‘Elle? Darling, what’s wrong, are you alright?’

‘Yeah, I am just so jet-lagged.’ she sighed, it was, after all, not lying. ‘I don’t know how you do it.’

‘How long were you working yesterday?’ he asked, his voice filled with concern.

‘I landed at half six, I went straight to the office, I got back at half eleven last night, I think.’

‘Jesus Elle, what time are you there today?’

‘I was there for eight.’

‘Are you still there now?’

‘No, I am at the hotel.’ she wished she had said nothing.

‘Can you grab a quick nap?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Do so darling, you need it, that is all that has gotten me through some days.’

‘How is everyone?’

‘Wonderful, it is great to see them all again.’ she could hear the elation in his voice.

‘Good.’ She tried to sound enthused.

‘Elle, whatever it is, are you alright?’ Tom’s voice was one of concern, yet it was clear he did not want to push her.

‘It’ll be fine.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Elle?’ He prodded.

Danielle attempted to say nothing, but the punch to the gut that was her day was pushing out. ‘I shouldn’t waste your…’

‘Danielle, stop, do not try to deflect, do not try to pretend you are alright and for the love of God, don’t you dare try and hang up on me.’ She said nothing. ‘What has happened, please tell me.’

‘Lucas made a comment regarding you coming with me to meet Branagh.’

‘Okay, why is there an issue with that?’

‘I am not sure, he brought his wife to his meeting with me and that was trans-Atlantic. But he went on to ask if I used you to…’ Danielle could hear Tom make an odd click noise with his tongue.

‘So…’ His tone was every attempt to be steady, but she could hear it waver slightly. ‘What happened?’

‘I stated I have not, nor shall I ever use you or your name in my work, that if anyone could not see the merit of my work as it is, then it did not matter and left.’

‘Left?’

‘Yes, I left. I am back at the hotel now.’

‘Elle…’

‘What, I am not going to have anyone dismiss me or my work.’

‘But your career…’ Danielle said nothing. ‘This is twice I have cost you work.’

‘No…’

‘Elle, because of me, Durham cost you a job you really wanted, and now this, you said this could catapult you into your career, skipping years of the drudgery, and I cost you again.’ he sounded heartbroken. ‘How are you even speaking to me? You should despise me.’

‘All I wanted was to hear your voice, I wish you were here.’ she admitted.

‘Why, you should want to break up with me.’

‘Tom, I don’t blame you, I blame them, it was never your fault, they chose to be assholes, you have been nothing but supportive and respectful of anything I have decided to do. I would not change this for the world. I rather work at Subway making sandwiches for forty years and have a crappy little two-bedroom in the council flats with you than all of this if it meant I still felt as supportive and loved, honestly.’

‘Really?’ Tom seemed somewhat taken back by that.

‘Yes, with the obligatory chav named for our kids and a terrible faux leopard print clothing and all.’ Tom chuckled. ‘I mean, full-on Vicky Pollard.’ That sent Tom laughing.

‘You would look ridiculous-looking like that.’

‘Yes, but so long as you were there, being you, in an Adidas trackie, Nike Airs and your white socks tucking your pants legs in, shitty tattoos of the kid's names on your forearms, if you still made me feel as happy, I would not change it.’

‘Well, that is one hell of a declaration.’ Tom’s smile was apparent. ‘I am sorry, though.’

‘So am I.’

‘How are you?’

‘I feel like absolute shit, I am tired, hungry and I feel like an absolute failure.’

‘I’m sorry, Elle.’

‘I tried.’

‘Can you fix it?’

‘I don’t know, and I don’t want to if it means I have to accept such comments about my integrity.’

‘That is your decision, you know I support you.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘I…’ The room phone rang, 'One moment, Tom’ half in concern, she walked over and held it to her ear, ‘Hello.’

‘Ms. Hughes?’

‘Yes?’

‘This is reception calling, I have a Mr. Lucas Waters asking for your permission to come to your room?’ Her tone was sterile of emotion, a common trait in American receptionists, Danielle had realised.

‘I…’

‘Elle?’ She could hear Tom on her phone. ‘Perhaps it would be wise to listen to what he has to say.’

Danielle paused for a moment. ‘Is he there?’

‘Yes Ma’am.’

‘Could you please put him on for a moment?’

‘Of course, Ma’am.’

‘Danielle?’

‘If you want to talk, I will speak with you in the hotel bar, like hell am I bringing a man that is not Tom to my room.’ she stated coldly.

‘Of course, my apologies.’

‘I will be down in a moment.’ she hung up the phone without delay before putting her own phone to her ear, ‘Tom?’

‘My little fiery Irish girl.’ She could hear him smile. ‘Get an apology before anything else.’

‘At the very least.’ She promised.

‘I love you, good luck.’

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 105 #tom hiddleston #Tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

[thel3tterm]

Our Author is Dead

This is my current novel project. I’ve been working on it for ~5 years, and its been through many painful drafts and revisions.

Current status: about halfway through the final draft. ~23 chapters and counting.

Read it here!  What is it about?

When Rouge’s boyfriend, Michael, goes missing under mysterious circumstances, he leaves behind boxes of incomprehensible research, and a realization that he hadn’t been the meek eccentric they always believed.

Rouge wanders from town to town, trying to piece together what happened and hopefully bring him home.

Along the way, they have to deal with biological monstrosities, an enigmatic being who eats words, a vigilante in a rabbit mask, overpowered teens on the run from a nightmarish organization, and worst of all- a war over who gets to be the protagonist of the story they apparently live in.

The World:

Our Author is Dead takes place in a country known as Doma.

Doma is very similar to our contemporary society. There’s junk food, convenience stores, comic books, air conditioning, interstates… but no electricity. The east is bordered by an ocean, and its western desert ends in an incomprehensible, uncrossable ‘wall’ of abnormality.

Lets Talk Biomancy: All technology is based upon living organic tissue- a field known as Biomancy. The field is completely normalized in their world. It gets them from place to place, lets them communicate long distances, runs the factories, does pretty much everything electricity does for us. In many cases its unnoticeable, running through the walls or inside of gadgets one might not even suspect are alive. The most noteworthy examples though, are full fledged lab created ‘animals’ of sorts. They might be pets, household assistance, or most commonly, vehicles. Zap Heads: Some people actually do study electricity, and believe in the merits of it as an alternative means of engineering. …Of course, we all know that its just a fringe science and that there’s no way to actually use electricity for anything substantial. People who study it call themselves Electricians. Everyone else calls them Zap Heads.

Novus: A subgroup of people in this country are known as Novus. A Novus, for one reason or another, is born with a slight or major split from their own body. Most people are only able to have an influence within themselves. They are only able to think inside their heads and move what’s attached to them. A Novus is able to have an influence outside of themself, which can manifest in a myriad of ways. Some might bend reality around them to their will, some might be able to reach into another person’s head and change things around. -Novus are looked at negatively by most of the country, and are often disparagingly called ‘Wiz’, based on the thought that they’re like witches. -Medical researchers believe that it is some kind of a birth defect, but are unable to determine if the root is environmental or genetic. -They’ve been noted to have a much higher average body temperature, and a weaker immune system. Flexing their 'abnormalities’ seems to require an extreme amount of energy, so they need to eat a lot more than average and struggle to keep a healthy weight. -Religious people believe that it is caused by a moral failure, and that Novus need to have more self discipline to 'correct’ themselves. -Upon discovery, Novus are immediately documented and given a facial tattoo and serial number. -Most Novus wind up being seized and taken to a 'rehabilitation’ center before they reach the age of eighteen. Few will ever actually leave the rehab centers. Only a small number remain free to adulthood. The Bones: One of the oldest and most prestigious families in Doma is known as the Bones. Despite appearing frequently in history textbooks, newspaper and magazine articles, interviews, important dinners, parties, and the like, very little is ACTUALLY known about the Bones. Here are some definite knowns: -They invented Biomancy several hundred years ago. -They are the only family who actually knows how to make a Biom from scratch, and they hold this secret very close. (Factories merely assemble the Bioms, but an outside party is not able to make a working one unless it comes from them.) -All of their children are women. No Bones has ever been a man. -They seem to have an extreme influence over all the goings-on in the country. Politics, Novus control, science, media, you name it, they’re there. Melissa Bones is currently in charge of their family operations, and her daughter Pamela is the up and coming heir. Characters: Rouge: -27 years old -Novus -Non-binary (they/them) -Very thin, brown hair (unless they dye it) usually in a sideshave or shaggily uneven, long face, tan skin, chipped front tooth, average height -Almost always wearing a patched up and shabby blue coat. -Anxious, self loathing, self-described as 'completely ordinary and boring’, sarcastic, artistic, tenacious -Was diagnosed a Novus at age 17 in a freak accident. They had never caused anything to happen before, and have done nothing unusual since. -Was rescued from a rehab center under equally bizarre circumstances by a childhood friend, and is a rare 'adult’ Novus. -Has a taste for the finer things in life, and likes to critique food and visual design -Loves outlandish fashion, but has no money for it -Is looking for someone dear to them who mysteriously went missing Valence: -Is that even her real name? -19 years old -Extremely powerful Novus. Perhaps the most powerful there ever was. -Can bend reality around her, create bursts of light and heat, move objects at a distance, alter the shape and material of things -Stocky and muscular, on the shorter side, round face, tan skin, black hair typically kept short -Prefers masculine clothing -Prone to anger, determined, stubborn, courageous, strong moral compass, black and white mentality, fiercely independent -Both of her parents are well known 'Zap Heads’. Her siblings are well known activists and researchers. While smart, she was more drawn to music, and felt trapped under the expectations placed on her by her family. -Was friends with several vigilantes and rogue freedom fighters who knew her family -Was taken at age 18 after snapping someone’s leg in half, and brought to a secret facility run by the Bones -Broke herself out and has been on the run since -Was in a shitty garage band. Plays bass. Loves comic books and underground music. Tariku: -14 years old -Novus with the ability to 'see’ into people’s inner selves and mess with their heads, plus a few other things I won’t mention here yet. -Dark skin, thick hair, short because he’s still young but will grow to be tall, on the thinner side -Prefers to dress crisply, usually opting for collared shirts -Wears a blindfold most of the time to prevent accidentally spying on people. (Also because he was taught that his ability is a sin, and he can’t turn it off…) -Thoughtful, cautious, strategic, quiet, prone to guilt, shows little emotion but feels things intensely, rarely shares what he’s thinking about, extremely curious but is often too afraid to explore or take risks -Never swears or uses contractions while speaking -Grew up in a facility with several other Novus with similar abilities who were being trained for a specific, mysterious, goal -Knew Pamela Bones -Decided to escape with Valence after an incident he is keeping a secret, for now -Is curious about 'normal’ things people his age do, but is so far underwhelmed by the reality of the outside world Corvid: -??? -This thing seems to show up randomly in Rouge’s room at night. Is it even real?  -It talks in garbled voices patched together  -Wears a raven mask. Who knows what it is or what it wants. Is it even human? Michael:  -A childhood friend of Rouges, then boyfriend -Tall, gangly, dark curly hair, freckles -A bit of a know-it-all, passionate about everything, pleasant and friendly, keeps things to himself, doesn’t like to share uncomfortable details of his life -Difficult family life, a lot left unsaid -Might be involved in really dark and shady things -Got kidnapped and who knows where he is now Proto: -Lives in the woods -Always wears a rabbit mask, even while they’re sleeping, like a weirdo -Supposedly a friend of Michael’s, but Rouge had never heard of them -A friend of Valence’s as well, and worked with her family -Vigilante, destructive Pamela Bones: -20 -Pale skin, freckles, bright red hair kept long, perfectly aligned teeth, green eyes, a bit on the shorter side, fit, curvy figure -She’s everywhere, it seems. An international icon -Sounds bubbly and friendly enough, but there’s something wrong with her voice, and her eyes, and her smile. It seems a bit uncanny, a bit... off somehow Read it here! ________________________ Tag list: @leonajasmin-writeblr @zburatorii

#oaid #writing #writeblr #wip #spilled ink #writers of tumblr #current project #original writing #original characters

[bensboynton]

Good Enough b.h; Part 2

part 1 is in my masterlist: link in my blog description

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of drugs/alcohol, infidelity(PLS DON’T CHEAT ON YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER FOR THE LOVE OF GOD)

feedback would be greatly appreciated:)

Key: Y/BF/N = your boyfriend’s name

A/N: this gets heavy towards the middle and end, but i promise part three will be really fluffy and have a lot more ben in it okay? okay. 

also i should probably mention that your boyfriend is also an extremely successful singer.

“Gwil, you’re needed on set.” Gwilym rolled his eyes playfully, looking over at you. “I’ve just sat down!” you giggled at the man’s exasperated response, lightly tapping his leg with your foot as he stood up to leave.

“Go get em’ tiger.” you murmured as he gave you a thumbs up, flipping his mop of brown curly hair over his shoulder. You laughed and turned your attention back to the book currently laying in your lap.

The PA’s voice had interrupted the extremely interesting conversation you were having with Gwilym; a heated debate over the better type of chocolate. Clearly, dark chocolate was superior, but Gwil was very passionate about milk chocolate. 

You had only been working on the set of the movie for a few days, (you weren’t exactly sure how many, though. Due to the ever-present jet lag and SEVERE lack of sleep, the days were starting to melt together) but you already felt like your cast mates were your second family. You had grown especially close with Gwilym and Joe, who acted like your big brothers.

So far, you had already had one lack-of-sleep-induced mental breakdown, (these happened more often than you’d like to admit) and both Gwilym and Joe were there to comfort you every step of the way. 

You began blocking out the rest of the world as you focused on the story sitting in your lap. It was the original Romeo and Juliet play, one of your favorites. Since minoring in creative writing in college, you had become quite the sucker for Shakespeare.

“Romeo and Juliet, eh?” you heard a deep British voice echo from your left. You spun a piece of your hair around your finger, meeting the forest green eyes of the only other man in the room. “One of my favorites,” he continued, biting into a green apple in his large hand.

“These violent delights have violent ends,” Ben spoke dramatically, “or something like that.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip as he made his way over to sit down on the couch opposite of you. Ben was in his full Roger Taylor gear, his wig and costume astonishing enough to make even the biggest of Queen fanatics do a double take.

“It’s been my favorite since I did an analysis in college.” you murmured, flipping the page over quickly, beginning to chew on what was left of the nail on your right thumb. 

“What was your major?” Ben inquired, furrowing his brows in curiosity.

“Technically psychology, and I minored in creative writing. But my psychology degree doesn’t really get much use now.” Ben nodded thoughtfully at your response.

You glanced back down to the play, continuing to gnaw at the skin on your thumb.

“Stop that.”

You glanced up at Ben through your thick eyelashes, confusedly cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“Stop what?”

“Biting your nails. I’ve noticed you do that a lot.” He spoke as he lazily leaned back on the green couch.

You quickly placed your hand at your side, sitting on your fingers as you meet the eyes of the crazy good-looking British man. 

Your friendship with Ben was… unnecessarily complicated. He acted strange around you sometimes, and the awkwardness that resulted in some of your conversations was unnatural compared to the camaraderie you shared with the rest of the cast.

“Sorry if that came off as rude or something, I used to bite my nails too.” you smiled up at him, noticing the slight bouncing of his left leg as your eyes drifted back to the page of your book. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to comprehend a single thing. 

You glanced back up at the jittery blonde man. “I feel you. It’s been a bad habit of mine since grade school.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. The quiet buzz of the heater unit in the small waiting room was the only disturbance in the increasingly awkward silence between you and Ben.

“Oh, before I forget,” he exclaimed as he rummaged through his pockets, “I forgot to give this to you yesterday before you left, but you dropped this napkin on set and the lyrics on it kind of looked important.” your heart soared at the sight of your familiar blue ink on the white piece of fabric.

“Oh my god. You found it!” you practically shot off the couch and snatched it from his hand. “Thank you so much, I thought someone had thrown this away. This is the chorus for my next song, I think.”

Without really thinking, you leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You know, you shouldn’t worry as much about how you’re perceived by me. Or anyone else, really. Just a word of advice.” you spoke as you admired the napkin in your hand. 

You noticed the beaming smile resting on his face, accompanied by a slight flush of pink as you identified the smell of cigarettes and an oddly scented cologne that suited him strangely well.

“It was really no problem. I had a feeling it was important, especially with lyrics as amazing as those,” you blushed as you hastily pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, “and thank you for the advice. I’ll try to keep it in mind.” 

Ben winked at you playfully, causing you to let out a small chuckle, but your heart was doing backflips in your chest. He just had this effect on you…

There was a small pause as you skimmed over the lyrics on the napkin before you placed it in the small bag you brought with you to set every day. 

“Not that my opinion really has much merit, but I think you’re really talented,” Ben paused, moving a piece of his blonde wig out of his eyes, “not a lot of people can compose something like that on a napkin and have it be solid enough to make a complete record out of it." 

You bit back a big smile as you met his stunningly wide eyes that could blow a breath of fresh air into you anytime you looked at them. His tiny grin was gentle, with sincerity practically bleeding through the edges of his lips.

"That truly means a lot to me, Ben, thank you. Means more than you could ever know, actually.” he lightly scratched the back of his neck, breaking your intense eye contact, “and, not that my opinion has much merit, but I think you’re an amazing drummer.”

He laughed, lightly rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger, reaching to adjust the wrist band that was tightly coiled around his left arm, “I appreciate it, but I’m no Roger Taylor.”

“Woah, hold up there. I never said you were that good.” Ben’s jaw fell slack as he playfully glared at you, his eyes seeming to be searching you for something.

You carefully moved to go sit back down, but before you could even take a step, the door swung open. 

“Ben, Y/N, you’re needed on set now.”

You offered Ben a soft grin as he held the door open for you, walking into the hustle and bustle of the movie set. Today was going to be a long, long, day. 

You had been working on the Bohemian Rhapsody movie for about two weeks at this point. Saying that out loud makes it seem like a lot less time than how it felt. Nevertheless, the glamour of being an actress has most definitely worn off.

The dazzling red carpets and interviews felt like they were eons away, seemingly working their way farther and farther into your future with each passing hour.

Don’t get it confused, you loved acting, you loved your job, but the long days and long nights were starting to mess with your system more than you’d like to admit.

Just last week, you were in the middle of shooting a scene with Rami when you felt lightheaded and fainted for a few seconds. Right there, in front of the entire cast and crew. Definitely not one of proudest moments.

The combination of lack of sleep, all the caffeine to attempt to make up for said lack of sleep, having to memorize your lines, rehearse for the final three shows of your tour, and deal with all the absolutely wonderful elements of being a woman was really starting to wear on your wellbeing. Mentally, and physically.

But, nevertheless, you were playing your dream role in your dream movie about Queen, whom you got to go to work with and talk to every day. There really wasn’t that much for you to be complaining about.

And, for the first time in a really, really long time, you felt completely and totally happy. 

“Y/N, we’re going out to get some drinks. Wanna tag along?” Allen smirked at you, nudging your shoulder as he grabbed a bottle of water before turning to leave. 

“Dumbass question, of course I wanna go.” You spoke, turning to grab your purse on the counter and beginning to follow Allen and the rest of the cast out the door. 

You were about two feet away from the exit, able to feel the cold London air on your legs when someone called your name. You turned around and saw it was one of the PA’s.

“Y/N, you have a visitor. Says his name is Y/BF/N? Should I let him in?” she inquired from across the room. 

You stopped dead in your tracks, all the color quickly leaving your face. He couldn’t really be here, could he? 

“Yeah, let him in,” you said breathlessly, sympathetically looking up at your friends, “could you guys wait here for a few minutes while I deal with this?" 

They all nodded and went to sit back down on the couches and chairs in the little side room. Ben gave you a reassuring smile from across the room, before reaching over and putting a rugby game on the TV. You turned towards the woman at the door.

You walked with the PA who informed you that he was in the room right across the hall. You took a deep breath and stood in front of the maroon colored door.

It wasn’t like him to come for surprise visits. And he knew you hated surprises, so there was definitely an ulterior motive here. Just the thought of that made butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach as you gathered your courage. You finally knocked on the door twice before letting yourself in.

Seeing him awkwardly standing there was certainly… something. For lack of a better word, he looked like shit. Pure, unadulterated shit. And you weren’t surprised, because he had a bad habit of getting absolutely wasted most nights while he was on tour. 

Whether it was backstage after his show or at some random club or bar near the venue he performed at, he was always under the influence of something. That’s why you never went with him on his tours, because he’d be too drunk or too high to have a conversation with you that didn’t end in a screaming fight. And something about his posture signified that this meeting was about to end in a similar way. 

You now realized how long you had truly been avoiding this. The inevitability of the conversation you two were about to have felt to be swarming around your bodies. You were truly now able to realize how unhealthy this has been for you. How you kept everything that bothered you or made you even slightly upset inside rather than provoke the man you “loved” over something so small.

You two definitely didn’t have the healthiest of relationships, you’ll be the first to admit that. But the idea of having to eventually have to go to weddings alone, go home to an empty apartment and live in constant silence scared the everliving shit out of you. You hated silence, you hated being alone. 

So you had just put up with it.

Sometimes you would think that he gave up on you. He would stop returning your calls and the number of goodnight text messages from him would dwindle, so you’d think maybe he was done with you. Maybe you wouldn’t have to put up with the heartbreak of the severing of your relationship. Maybe the connection would diminish over time until it eventually dissipated into thin air. 

But now here he was, in all his drunken, grimy glory on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody in London, about 6000 miles away from what should’ve been his current tour stop. And you felt like you were going to throw up. 

All the feelings for him you thought you had lost came rushing back with a force so strong it almost knocked you off your feet. You wanted so desperately to run into his arms and greet him with a kiss, but you couldn’t. You had to fight your muscle memory. 

"Hi.” he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse as he shifted his gaze to your shoes. He couldn’t even make eye contact with you.

“Hey,” you whispered back, staying quiet for the fear that a normal sound would shatter the delicate chain that was tying your faltering relationship together.

He turned away from you, walking over to the tiny window in the eerily silent room, pulling out a cigarette and lighter from his black leather jacket. You sighed to yourself. You weren’t allowed to smoke in here but you would be damned if you were going to tell him that, and risk angering him.

You acted… different, around him. It was like he was a damp towel that was thrown on top of you whenever you two were together. You suddenly became a shell, a ghostly hollow of whom you were supposed to be. And you fucking hated that. And you hated him for that.

The silence in the room was so heavy on your shoulders you swore your feet would break through the wooden floor. It was uncomfortable, just like everything about him. He was an uncomfortable person.

“I don’t want to draw this out, because this won’t be pleasant for me or for you.” He broke the silence, speaking louder than before. And just like you feared, it shattered whatever was left.

“My management agency got a courtesy letter two nights ago from TMZ about a story that was breaking tomorrow about me. And I wanted you to hear this from me, not some stupid fucking twitter news highlight.”

The sharp, stunningly cold tone in his voice was so foreign to you. The last time you two were together for longer than three days, his voice had been warm, welcoming, and like a home. He was your home. And now you felt like you were listening to a stranger speak. 

You almost stopped him. You almost barged out of the room and left whatever it was that he was going to say unsaid. He was hesitating, and you could feel how hard he was trying to force the words out of his throat. And that scared you more than anything. He was never the type to shy away from the truth, or what needed to be said. 

That used to be something you admired, something about him you were in love with. He was crazy and wild, completely explicit and transparent. The complete opposite of you. 

And maybe when you went on your first date with him you thought being around someone like him would change someone like you. Maybe you thought he would be able to coax you out of your shell. 

He suddenly looked away from the window, meeting your eyes. Your stomach dropped at his pin-head sized pupils, the harsh color of his blue irises reaching out and slapping you across your face. 

He let out a shaky breath, retrieving a piece of yellow folded paper from his jacket pocket. “You know, I’ve never been good with words, so to be completely honest with you,” he paused, taking a drag from the cigarette perched between his slender fingers, “I have no fucking idea how to say this right now.”

You wanted to comment, to say something, but it was like you suddenly forgot how to speak. You were frozen. He had his imaginary grip around your throat and you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. These few seconds felt like they were dragging on for an eternity.

“You cheated on me, didn’t you?” you whispered, feeling the familiarity of strain in your throat. 

You weren’t religious, you had never been to a church in your life. But at this moment you would’ve dropped to your knees and prayed to any God that you were wrong. That he hadn’t been unfaithful to you. 

He handed you the piece of paper he had been holding for a few minutes, “I wrote down as many as I could remember. But some of the times I-” he began before you let out a laugh. 

“Because you were too drunk?” you continued. He nodded, letting his head fall to stare at his shoes.

You had run through this scenario in your head before, on a particularly late night when you couldn’t fall asleep. You never thought you’d be actually living it, yet here you are. 

To be honest, you expected to be a tearful mess. But all you felt was pure anger coursing through your veins as you unfolded the paper and glanced at the words. 

Jessica from Calgary, July. Allison and Tiffany from Montreal, June. Megan from Iowa, mid-August. And there were way more on the list that you couldn’t bring yourself to read. You let out a chuckle. You should’ve known. 

“Did you think about me, when you were with them? Did you ever give me a second thought?” you inquired. He looked back up at you like a deer in headlights. 

“Did you ever wake up and see my voicemails, my text messages, and regret it?” He was still speechless, looking at you like you were speaking in some long lost foreign language.

You let out a deep breath of disbelief that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, collapsing down on the upholstered couch, “when did you decide you didn’t love me anymore?" 

"Y/N, I never stopped-”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t sit here and try to make everything better with your cheesy bullshit of how you never stopped loving me, how you still love me even after all we’ve been through. I really don’t want to hear it." 

There was an uncomfortable pause as you felt scalding hot tears well up in your eyes. You tried blinking them away but this just caused them to spill down your cheeks. "I’ve been on two world tours across five continents and I never once thought about betraying you. Betraying us. Betraying what we had. It wasn’t even a question.”

You looked back up at him, your tears dripping off your chin and settling into the hollows of your collar bone. And you suddenly lost the loose leash you had on the emotions running rampant in your gut. 

"I would’ve done literally anything for you. If you asked me to not take the part in this movie, my absolute dream job, I would’ve declined and apologized for being an inconvenience to you.”

“If you asked me to throw myself off a cliff, I would’ve done it in a fucking heartbeat. And you have the nerve to stand here and act like you cheating on me however many times you did is no big deal? Like you didn’t just betray the only person you had left?”

You were yelling now, and to be frank, you didn’t care. You didn’t have the empathy nor mental capacity left to care. You had never experienced a heartbreak so severe it made you nauseous. 

You were confused and so dizzy. You felt like you were about to pass out or throw up the sandwich you had for lunch, but you couldn’t tell which one. You’re weren’t sure if you were dreaming but also not sure if you were even alive. Maybe this was Hell. Maybe you passed away in your sleep last night and you were living in your own, personal Hell.

Because you could deny it all you wanted, but you were still in love with this man. Hell, you’d still die for him. That wouldn’t change. He had you wrapped around his pinky finger and both of you knew it. And that’s why it hurt so bad. Because everything hurts more when it comes from someone you love. 

"I came out here as a fucking courtesy, so you didn’t have to find out about this on the internet. I didn’t have to fly out here, didn’t even have to tell you, but I did. There’s no need to act like a god damn child!” he screamed, angrily opening the window to his right. 

He threw his cigarette butt out the slim opening and slammed it shut, causing you to jump slightly. It sent shivers up and down both of your arms.  

“A courtesy? Oh wow! All for little old me? Well, aren’t you just a fucking saint! You deserve to be knighted by the fucking Queen of England for that, really.”

You took a deep breath, grabbing your hair by the roots before throwing your head back with frustration, “All I ever fucking did was care for you, look after you, and put up with your bullshit excuses and mistreatment and I’m done. I am so, so fucking done." 

You stood up abruptly to get a little closer to his towering height. "Looking at this entire shit show in retrospect, I can’t believe I ever wasted even a moment of my time on you. I’m over it. I’m over you. I’m over us.”

After speaking those words into the quiet atmosphere of the room you were in, you felt your anger evaporate into thin air. “You know, you’re a real piece of shit? I pray to God that the next girl has some standards and goes running for the hills when she gets to know the real you. Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

Suddenly, your tears were back, welling up in your eyes as you looked him over once again, his face a mixture of shock, sadness, and disbelief. 

He chuckled, returning to his spot near the window, mumbling something under his breath. “So, we’re done? That’s it? Just like that, two years out the window?” he huffed out in disbelief.

“Yeah, just like that. Because you’re not supposed to cheat on your significant other. This isn’t an open relationship. This isn’t how this works, genius.” 

He rolls his eyes, walking over to the window yet again as he mumbles something under his breath. "Speak up.” you snarled. He studied you for a moment, an amused expression on his stupidly perfect face.

“I said, you wonder why I would cheat on you, then you go and act like this.”

You were speechless. Your head was pounding so ferociously hard, you didn’t want to believe he had actually just said that to you. You wished you could wake up in a cold sweat in your bed back home in LA and you could turn over and go back to sleep. You just wanted this to be over with.  

“Get out,” you mumbled. Your voice cracked, and noticeably so, and it allowed your sadness to leak out of your words into this already small room that felt like it was getting smaller. 

“What did you just say to me?"You could hear the aggression practically gushing out of his mouth, and you didn’t want to stick around to find out what happens next.

"I said,” you spoke, taking a pause to soak the absolute hatred form the air into your skin, “get. out.”

“So you’re really going to tell me to leave? After a 12-hour flight?” he let out an exasperated sigh, “God, you’re such a fucking bitch.”

You’re not quite sure what, but something snapped deep inside you, like a gate opened and all the immature anger you had been trying to contain escaped like air escaping a popped balloon.

“Get the fuck out and leave me and my friends alone! I hate you. I fucking hate you!” your voice was hoarse, and every word leaving your throat was like a punch to your stomach. “I never want to see you again. Just leave, please. Leave me alone.” you cried out, clutching your arms as close to your sides as humanly possible. 

He stomped past you and slammed the door behind him, and you swore the ripped it off it’s hinges. And it was definitely enough to make you shatter into a thousand little pieces.

He was finally gone.

You managed to make your way to the wall, resting your shoulder againsst it handle before turning around and slowly sinking down to the ground. You covered your mouth with your hands, letting the tears freely slip down your fiery red cheeks.

You don’t know exactly how long you sat there, but it was definitely a long time. By the time you recovered, the sky outside had darkened and the moon was becoming ever more present in the evening sky. 

You made your way over to grab your phone from its spot on the table. You pulled up the camera app and looked at yourself. Your eyes were puffy and swollen, and your nose was raw from wiping it so many times. Frankly, you were a mess. You attempted to calm yourself down, trying to take deep breaths.

After finally returning back to Earth, you grabbed your bag and walked out of the room and across the hallway where your group of friends was still waiting. You briskly walked across the room, pretending that nothing had happened. 

Your cheeks and eyes were red, but you didn’t wanna give away the fact that you had been crying, so you turned to the table of snacks and started tidying it up, moving your hair in your face. 

"So sorry that took so long guys. We can head out now if you’d like.” There was no response.

“If you guys are okay with it, do you think we could stop at McDonald’s on the way there? I could really use a milkshake.” Silence. You ignored the quiet in a room that would normally be filled to the absolute brim with sound. 

“Y/N…” you heard the uncertainty in Gwilym’s voice as your name rolled off his tongue. 

“Do British McDonald’s even have milkshakes?” you inquired, taking a shaky breath, “I’ve just realized I’ve never been to a McDonald’s here. Personally I’d prefer chocolate but vanilla would do the job.” Your voice seemed to shrink until you were speaking at the volume of a whisper. 

You just kept your hands moving, trying to distract yourself from the tears welling up in your eyes yet again. There was still silence other than you organizing the snacks and rummaging through your purse. 

Suddenly, you felt a large, warm hand on your wrist. You slightly turned your head to the side to see Ben, his brows furrowed together and a look of genuine distress powdered across his normally light and carefree eyes. And that’s what caused you to hit your breaking point.

You slammed your face into his chest, letting your fatally weak sobs echo in the silent room. His arms were around you in a second, supporting most of your weight due to your knees suddenly giving out. 

Your body was shaking with your echoing cries, your sobs so intense they were comparable to dry heaves.

Rami’s voice was heard behind you, quiet and still. “I don’t think we’re going out tonight.” This caused you to rip yourself out of Ben’s iron-tight grasp.

“Please don’t let me and my personal problems put a damper on your fun night out. Go and enjoy yourself,” you wiped a few tears from your eyes, “I’ll be fine, I promise.” you heard Joe let out an exasperated sigh from the couch, drawing your attention to him.

“No, you’re not fine. And you probably won’t be for the immediate future. And that’s completely okay because you have us,” he took a deep breath, looking you up and down slowly. You could see a flash of pain in his deep brown eyes.

“I’m really very sorry that we eavesdropped on you, but we can’t change the fact that we heard almost everything that happened in there and I know that you’re not okay right now,” he spoke quietly, the usual tinge of humor in his voice gone without a trace, “and I may not have known you for a year or even a month yet, but I do know that no one likes to be alone when they’re hurt. So we’re staying.”

Being truthful, you could’ve collapsed right then and there at the sound of someone having your back as unquestionably as Joe did. It was such a relief, tears began leaking out of your eyes again. Ben pulled you into another one of his comfortingly tight hugs and led you over to the couch, where he sat you down between himself and Joe.

Looking up to momentarily meet Ben’s eyes, he gave you a sad grin. Not having the energy left in your bones to return it, you slouched down and plopped your head on his muscular shoulder.

You felt his body stiffen slightly beneath you, but at this point, you didn’t care. You just wanted to go to sleep for a really, really long time. Part of you didn’t want to have to deal with this absolute disaster. 

You were tired. And tired of being tired. And tired of being used and thrown around and treated like you were nothing but a toy. You wanted to stand up and shout how you weren’t something to butter up and taste when others got bored, you wanted to scream and cry and break things and punch holes in the wall. But your body was so fragile at the moment, everyone around you thought the smallest touch might cause you to break. 

Yet somehow, even after the most violent break up of your life, you had never felt so accepted and genuinely cared for in your entire life. Ben’s arm was now wrapped around your fatigued body, your head still on his shoulder, the TV in the dressing room was on, and you were surrounded by your new family. Strangely, you had never felt more wanted in all of your years of existence.

This feeling of comfort was just enough to lull you to sleep in the middle of the evening, sitting on an uncomfortable couch, slouched over and your neck already beginning to stiffen. 

But somehow, through all of this, you managed to feel one overwhelming  thing for the first time in your life; inner peace. 

taglist: @pastel-world14 @benhardyseyesjj

#ben hardy #ben hardy headcanon #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #ben #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #lucy boynton #rami malek #gwilym lee #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #borhap boys #borhap cast #queen #joe mazzello #allen leech #bohemian rapsody movie

[spaceshipkat]

I know there have been at least a couple of authors recently who had to apologize for the content in their books because of harsh social media backlash. Sj//m’s books have a relatively large anti base, so why hasn’t she faced any repercussions yet? Even with the whole soap dick thing. I know that wasn’t her fault, but still. Aren’t there any concerned parents that take their adolescent daughters to her events concerned about wingspan and all that shit? Why aren’t we loud enough?

why aren’t we loud enough…? this is such a hard question to answer, mainly bc it’s one i ask all the time but haven’t yet been able to arrive at an answer i’m happy with. i think a large part of it, especially in the wake of the recent authors who’ve responded to backlash and withdrawn their books from publication, is due to who, exactly, is speaking up about sj/m and how. most of us antis are anonymous to the world at large (although a lot of us chat behind the scenes and are close friends), so it’s not as though we’re authors, editors, or journalists such as those who’ve spoken up about APFW or BH who might be able to have a real impact on what’s going on. 

i think soap dick is a good example of the sheer amount of white noise between antis and those who might actually have a real role in curbing what sj/m does. when soap dick happened, many authors (some of whom i firmly believe are aware of our blogs and tags) acted as if they were the only ones speaking up about the sexual content in sj/m’s books–and that was the big issue soap dick brought into the light: not the racism, not the ableism, not the transphobia, etc. so those authors spoke up about the explicit content that isn’t acceptable in YA, patted themselves on the back for being A Good Ally, and then promptly forgot all about it bc that was apparently all that the situation merited. 

in the case of sj/m’s behavior vs authors of APFW and BH, it comes down to their sense of morality and their privilege or lack thereof. APFW and BH are both written by POC, one of whom is gay, while sj/m is about as privileged as you can possibly get since she’s cishet, white, blonde, and wealthy, just to name a few. sj/m has gotten away with what she writes for years and she has the clout to keep going the way she is, versus a debut author who doesn’t have a track record of good sales yet. beyond that, it also hinges on when they debut. the publishing industry of 2019,when both BH and APFW were set to debut, is a helluva lot different from the industry back in 2011, when sj/m debuted with t0g. after all, We Need Diverse Books was only formed in 2014 and #ownvoices only became popular in 2015. 2015 is, incidentally, when both ac0tar and q0s released, which are the two books that clinched sj/m’s control over what appears on bookstore shelves, bc she was a big enough author with a heavy enough name that blanket-rejecting editorial notes was within her powers. she just happened to debut at the right time and has used that to her advantage ever since. 

one good thing i think soap dick managed to do is make sj/m jump ship to Adult. most, if not all, antis say that we wish she would publish in Adult to protect teens from accidentally picking up one of her books. in some cases it’s too little, too late, bc she’s a guaranteed sale, which will thus ensure every bookstore keeps their shelves stocked with her books, thus allowing new readers to pick up the books. (it’s a huge reason why we antis do what we do and put up with the harassment from her stans: to protect potential readers from the content in her books.) of sj/m’s own admission, CCity is only published in Adult bc it has more sex than ac0tar (how that’s possible is a mystery), and, also of sj/m’s own admission, what PG-13 means to her is R/NC-17 to us (i need to find the interview where she said this, because i know i’ve shared it before). with such a loud and fervent fandom, she doesn’t have to worry about the ramifications of that belief, since she simply retreats from all social media instead of addressing the issues. 

which, i think, is the best answer i can give for why we’re not loud enough: sj/m plugs her ears and pretends we’re not there at all. i’ve mentioned before that it was…2016, i think, when she was last on twitter. she had a live chat with B&N wherein a few early antis asked her, point-blank but politely ofc, why she was writing what she did. both she and B&N ended up blocking any accounts that asked tough questions like that, and shortly thereafter sj/m vanished from every platform apart from instagram and pinterest on occasion. she allows blooms to take the blame, as proven by how she didn’t say a damn thing about soap dick and let blooms take the heat for what she writes, and throws her stans bread crust and empty bottles and calls it Thanksgiving dinner, and they lap it up because they’re starved of interaction with her. 

i don’t think sj/m did any of this consciously (apart from ignoring critique, obv), but a career of eight years and thirteen books has given her the freedom to keep going as she is, especially since the only backlash comes from anonymous antis. but i try to remind people from time to time that we aren’t here for sj/m, but for readers. knowing i’ve helped people avoid the books, or recognize problems in the books, is the main reason i’m still here. if something we talk about gets noticed by blooms or sj/m (there are some instances where it definitely seems like someone at blooms with some semblance of control over the representation or problems in the books is at least aware of what we say in our tags–proven with Mor becoming a lesbian or the half-assed explanation as to how alien and rowboat aren’t closely related despite the family tree we all know of, since we pay more attention to the details in the books than sj/m herself), that’s just a pleasant byproduct of our work here. 

i’m not sure if this answered your question, but this was something that had been percolating in my head for a while now, so i’m glad your ask gave me the opportunity to talk about it a bit. :)

#ask #anonymous #anti sjm

[parf-fan]

2018 in-house shows posted!

Once more, no mention on their facebook page or in their emails, but I suppose that’s what I’m here for.  If you go to PARF’s website, you’ll find that the list of in-house shows has at last been updated for this season.  I took the liberty of copy-pasting it all here nonetheless.

King’s Court King Henry and Queen Catherine host the visiting king and queen of France. Never before have so many monarchs gathered upon a Mt. Hope stage! Will the Master of Revels, Sir Walter Roderick Kensington, be up to the task of entertaining four royals? Join them at the Endgame stage, and watch the saga of the Field of Cloth of Gold commence!

(I am so pleased that they specifically mentioned the question of whether Sir Walter will be able to cope with four monarchs.)

Human Chess King Henry and King Francis, in the spirit of friendly competition, have agreed to match wits in a game of Human Chess. All the denizens of Mt. Hope, from lowly peasants to noble knights, will take the board as members of the kings’ armies. But as the ring of steel fills their ears, and the thrill of battle heats their blood, will the contest stay friendly for long?

(I didn’t read the above description, for it undoubtedly contains what would count as spoilers to me.)

Ultimate Joust

As the sun sets upon Bosworth Field, four knights will meet in mounted combat, as a crowd of thousands looks on. Come and cheer for your favorite knight; thrill to the pounding hooves and the clash of steed and steel. Join the royal court and all the villagers of the Shire, in the epic Ultimate Joust that has made Mt. Hope famous.

(I didn’t read the above description, for it undoubtedly contains what would count as spoilers to me.)

Finale in Song

As the festival day draws to a close, the town gathers for a final celebration of song, dance, and laughter. Join King Henry and Queen Catherine, along with King Francis and Queen Claude of France, and the entire town of Mt. Hope, in a village event that reveals the very heart of the Shire.

(I didn’t read the above description, for it undoubtedly contains what would count as spoilers to me.)

Grand MacGuffin Melee Good Master MacGuffin has not had much luck with his establishment. It seems like every new business venture he tries always winds up in a massive brawl. But this time, he has decided to attract a fancier sort of clientele. Come attend the grand opening of MacGuffin’s Gallerie of Fine Arte. With such a high-class aspiration, what could possibly go wrong?

(I’d finished reading this before I registered that it was for a show I consider storyline, and therefore didn’t want spoilers for.  That said, this can only end well.)

Disasterpiece Theatre The Master of Revels, Sir Walter Roderick Kensington, has assembled the shire's best performers (who had nothing else going on at the time) to delight our guests with a masterpiece on the stage. They present a different modern story with a 16th century twist every weekend; and of course when Sir Walter tries to get something done-- anything that can go wrong will go wrong. It will truly be a Disasterpiece!

(As soon as I’d read the title and the fact that the description starts with naming Sir Walter, I was already dying with laughter.  I am so glad that character and his particular style of overwroughtness managed to become so iconic.  This promises to be fantastic.  I predict that they will definitely adapt Mean Girls, if nothing else.  I also vote for an adaptation of Newsies.  Les Mis would be great, but I dunno that that counts as “modern”, and it’s also a little long, ya kno?)

Bloody Best Attend the tale of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, He Who Would be King of Scotland. ‘Tis forty minutes of brutal combat, murder most foul, and disturbingly comic violence. And blood. There will be blood.

(B l o o d y B e s t i s t h e S c o t t i s h P l a y.  Which should be interesting, because the entirety of the grounds count as a theatre, and it’s only safe to name the play if it’s in the script.  So what if someone tries to interact with the performers regarding the contents of Bloody Best after the show is over?  Would improvised interaction be close enough to keep them safe?  Or will it call down the curse if they are forced to utter it in that circumstance?  And if the latter is true, will they then be able to get to the edge of the grounds / the gate into the performer-only area [that is, leave the theatre] in time to be able to perform the ritual to lift the curse?  Most importantly, am I cruel enough to put this to the test?)

The Sirens The pirate crew of the Relentless Contessa is out for blood and gold...on any other normal day, but today, they are taking a break to demonstrate their fierce musicality, daring boldness, and filthy pirate jests!

(THE SIRENS ARE PYRATES THIS TIME AT LAST FINALLY YESYESYES I HAVE BEEN WANTING THIS FOR YEEEEAAAARRRRS!!!) (No Bloody Shame [THE BLOODY SHAME!] though. I’m sad.)

The Rakish Rogues What happens when two French Nobles and two English Nobles are employed by Their Majesties to entertain the masses? They don't know either! Watch these charming nobles sing revelrous songs and regale you with rowdy vulgarities.

(After years of the Rogues being in some of the more lightweight outfits, their day of reckoning has finally come.  Boys, welcome to the excessively  heatstroke-laden life of a noble.)

The Irish Revels The three Eugenia Sisters, proprietors of The Wild Rose Inn, are celebrating the return of their father by reassembling the family band. Join them for rousing Irish folk music and quirky family values.

(THE IRISH REVELS ARE RETURNING THE IRISH REVELS ARE RETURNING THE IRISH REVELS ARE RETUUUURNIIIIINNNNNG!!!!!) (Yo, the MacGuffin Stables and Tavern has competition!)

Friday Knights Come see our Improv Track perform feats of mental, verbal, and physical agility for your entertainment! Presented in 2 acts, the first half is a competition of comedy as 2 teams face off against each other in "Whose Line..." style improv games hoping to earn the laughs and love of our audience judges. Then, after the intermission, both teams come together to perform a completely improvised musical based on the audience's suggestion!

(Quite pleased this is back.  Rest assured I shall actually attend this time.)

Neighborhoods Kings and Queens are great and all, but what do the average citizens of Mount Hope do on a festival day? Seek out these interactive stories that you can get involved in all over the shire to find out! Provide your expert opinion at a Town Hall Meeting; help track and arrest a wanted thief (or help the thief escape!). Get involved in the happenings of Mount Hope and influence the lives of its inhabitants at these scenarios found not on stages, but in the neighborhoods all around the shire.

(So.... literally exactly what it’s always been.  It’s just listed here this time.)

Music with Their Majesties Take a break with Their Majesties, as they demonstrate Their musical merits and host the best of entertainment from the realm.

(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Robin Hood You think you know the story of Robin Hood? You've probably never heard it like our Apprentice of Revels and her rag-tag team are going to tell it to you.

(........ Apprentice of Revels?  There’s a Apprentice of Revels now?  Sir Walter has a hecking apprentice this year!  I’m like really really hyped about this character’s existence.  For some reason, my mom is convinced this role is gonna be played by Katie Markey.)

Finale Dumb Show Have you missed every Plot Show during the Faire day? Did you not even know there WAS a plot? Arrive to the Globe Stage 15 minutes before Finale In Song to catch up on what happened in the silliest way possible!

(I am left with a deep-seated happiness over the Dumbshow’s return.  But they wrote it wrong.  I have it from the actors, it is oNE WORD!)

The Legend of One-Eyed Willy The Cabin Boy of the "Relentless Contessa" has been tasked with finding more members for the ship's Pirate Crew. Come join his crew, and witness the tale of the most feared pirate to ever sail the seven seas! Presented by The Mount Hope Players!

(was One-Eyed Willy aboard the original Bloody Shame [THE BLOODY SHAME!]?  That wold be a good reason to fear them.)

King's Cavalry Join the Master of Revels and The Lady Mayor for some literal horse-play on the chessboard directly before our Human Chess match! Bring your nipperkins so that they may join the King's Royal Mounted Cavalry!

(Everybody who, like me, attends King’s Cavalry because they went to Chess early to secure good seats, Y’ALL BETTER FUCKIN’ CLAP AND CHEER FOR THOSE KIDS, I SWEAR!)

King Arthur: The Legend of Murray Everyone knows that King Arthur was the Wizard Merlin's greatest apprentice, but did you know Merlin had another apprentice after Arthur? Come experience the tale of Merlin's OTHER apprentice: Murray!

(I’m gonna have to figure out how to make this fit with the canon of BBC’s Merlin, friggin’ fantastic.)

Is... is there no Tournament Joust this year then, or....

#i'm actually really caught up over the absence of tournament joust #what does it mean????? #in any case i am EXTREMELY EXCITED #THESE SHOWS LOOK SO GOTDAMN GOOD OKAY #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #MY ANTICIPATION KNOWS NO BOUNDS #IT IS A POWERFUL BEING ALL OF ITS OWN #IT MAY HAVE ALREADY ACHIEVED SENTIENCE #AM I EVEN THE ONE TYPING THIS ANYMORE? #COULD IT NOT BE MY MANIFESTED ANTICIPATION WHICH ACHIEVED SENTIENCE AND FORCED ME OFF MY OWN COMPUTER? #parf news #parf in-house shows #parf 2018 #parf #pa ren faire #pa renn faire #pa renaissance faire #pennsylvania renaissance faire #renaissance faire #renn faire #ren faire #faire #renfest #ren fest #renaissance festival #here's a health to the queuempany

[freedom-of-fanfic]

What advice do you have about tagging? Cause I feel like that courtesy is starting to turn into another Holy War too and I don't like it. (Ie: if you didn't choose to warn for every aspect of the content you created, it's now Open Season on you and your fic. It's okay for Antis to come for you bc you were a Mean Evil Person who didn't Use Enough Tags.) What happened to Choose Not To Warn as a valid warning??

This is an interesting topic tbh, and it’s getting more heated because on tumblr, post tags also function as community spaces. (I’m not really going to address the ‘do you tag the ship if it’s a negative depiction’ debate here, but I have other asks about that.)

let’s be real: anti-shippers have absolutely noticed that non-antis advocate heavily for fic warnings. They personally would rather that content that needs warnings not exist at all, but because many people who don’t agree with antis do agree with warnings, they will exploit that. two easy ways to antis exploit warning systems:

going into a warning tag and harassing the creators of works in the tag, ie going into the ‘noncon’ tag and messaging the creators to tell them their work contains and normalizes rape.

going after creators for not using the 'right’ warnings, ie: two characters have sex while drunk & no regrets. The creator tags it 'dubcon’ to be safe, but someone starts a dogpile because the warning should have been for 'noncon’.

It’s very much a 'damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation. You can never win with antis: they will only be satisfied if your content ceases to exist entirely. (don’t bother to try to make them happy.)

What happened to Choose Not To Warn as a valid warning??

so for those who don’t use AO3: Archive of our Own has one mandatory tag and several options for it. we’re only concerned with the last two:

Major Character Death: one of the main characters of this story dies.

Underage: underage characters doing nsfw things.

Rape/Noncon: sexual acts are committed with someone whose consent is questionable, not given, or denied. (imho, this is a warning I would also use on dubcon. your mileage may vary.)

Graphic Depictions of Violence: graphic depictions of physical violence may make for distrubing imagery.

No Archive Warnings Apply: if your fic doesn’t contain a main character death, underage characters engaging in sexual acts, rape/noncon/dubcon, or graphic depictions of violence, you can indicate it by checking this tag.

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings: this fic may contain character death, underage sex, noncon, or graphic violence, or it may not. the creator has elected to not warn for this content, so the reader proceeds at their own risk.

If you click on a fic with 'no archive warnings apply’, you can be sure the fic won’t have character death, underage sex, rape, or severe violence. if you click on a fic with 'choose not to warn’, you can’t be sure the fic won’t have any of the above potentially upsetting content.  

Unfortunately, many people either don’t realize there’s a difference or choose to ignore it.

'why even have the option to not warn, though?’ because there are some reasons why a writer might want you to proceed with caution but not want to give specifics:

a warning would give away a major plot point of the story/they don’t want to spoil any part of the fic with a warning

they would rather the fic not appear in the warning tags

they would prefer to warn in their own words in the author’s note or summary

they’re not sure if archive warnings apply but want to be on the safe side

they just don’t want to warn

(fun fact corner~!: tagging fics with content warnings more specific than 'contains slash’ or '18+ only’ is more or less a post-internet fandom expectation. It wasn’t until 1999-ish that readers seemed to expect warnings for upsetting content and we’ve been wanking about them ever since. (for funsies, here’s a timeline of fandom meta about warnings; the earliest content is from an alt.tv usenet archive, posted in 1997.) tagging/warning is a fairly ubiquitous practice now, and I am of the opinion it’s better to warn than not, but warnings are still optional and AO3 honors that.)

That said: I personally think that 'choosing not to warn’ on tumblr is rude and/or potentially dangerous because tumblr doesn’t function well as a content archive. Unlike AO3, tumblr is terrible at content filtering. tumblr mobile doesn’t honor readmores (except in reblogs) and you can only search one tag at a time under most circumstances: therefore, things that are likely to be upsetting to a percentage of people should be warned for so that blacklists can catch it.

if you would prefer to not warn for content on tumblr, I’d recommend some of the following as possible workarounds:

flag the post as 'adult’ if appropriate, even if you choose to not include a warning.

explicitly mention that the work may have violence/abuse/noncon/etc but you’re choosing to not specify either way.

if possible, host the content off-site and provide a link.

alternatively, post your unwarned work to a blog that you’ve flagged as unsearchable, and therefore won’t show up in the 'search’ function.

another long post (should I give up on trying for brevity?), but here’s the short version:

tl;dr 1: antis often act in bad faith and it’s impossible to please them. tagging is just another excuse for coming after works they don’t like. tag at your own discretion and weigh negative feedback on its merits, not its emotion.

and tl;dr 2: choosing to not warn is still a valid option but people forget it’s a thing and get burned by it, so it’s best to be really clear about it (and if you’re a consumer, pay attention if someone says they’re abstaining from warnings!)

final note: please enjoy this 2006 LJ post explaining that fiction doesn’t have to be moral, depiction does not condone real behavior, nobody is harmed in the making of a fanwork and censorship is not the answer. 11 years of the same wank! some of the participants in today’s discourse were literally still in diapers.

#in defense of tagging #tagging discourse #rape mention #noncon mention #anti shipping #damned if you tag damned if you dont #fandom history

[bloodgulchblue-blog]

In The Shade - a RvB fic

Grif can tell Sarge what they weren't doing parked in the shade for 2 hours.

Rating: M // Length: 2549 words // Pairing: Grimmons Tags: some sappiness, some nsfw, some angst, who knows where i was going with this one? not me!

“What were you doing parked in the shade for two hours?” “Well, I can tell you weren’t doing...”

"I'm stopping here, I need to catch my breath." Grif said, driving back behind a huge pillar of rock and into the shade it created. "You know, you have a really good arm with that stuff. I never would have thought you could hit that foot-shaped boulder with the dynamite. Where did you get that stuff anyway?" "Sarge keeps a large stash of it by his nightstand... I always thought it was kind of odd, but since I'm the only other one allowed in his room since he hates you and Donut can't even find his way around the fucking base, I can borrow some whenever I want to," Simmons was speaking with a matter-of-fact tone as he fidgeted with his helmet. He stopped as he finished his sentence to face Grif again. "Why does he hate you so much, anyway?" "Some people just make mistakes, I guess. I'm pretty awesome, so I mean, it's his loss." Grif was crossing his arms now, and Simmons narrowed his eyes behind his visor and sighed dismissively. "Yyyeah, nevermind, I remember why.. Okay. Anyways, I'm starting to get a bad feeling about parking here." Looking down at the floor of the jeep below him, he couldn't pinpoint what was making him feel weird. "What? Why? Simmons, don't tell me you miss Sarge that bad already, we've been gone like fifteen minutes." "Huh? No! Don't be stupid, it's the jeep, it sounds different." "Sounds different? Man, you're hearing things now. You're losing it for real." "No, I'm not." Simmons was losing patience for his orange-armored teammate. Though, honestly he had none to begin with. "Loosen up, Dimmons. We're just stopping for a little bit anyways." Grif was having none of it and slid down in his seat, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. He fully intended to take a nap. "Wait, 'Dimmons'?" Simmons asked, unsure whether to even be offended. "Yeah, Dimmons. Like, dim. As in not bright. See? You didn't even catch something simple like that. Dimmons." The maroon-armored man just stared at him. "That is the dumbest thing you've ever come up with. It's almost impressive." he remarked. Grif didn't respond, just sunk lower in his seat. So the silence began. It had been about five minutes and all the sound there was was the low rumble of the Warthog; And five minutes of silence is a long fucking time in Blood Gulch. Simmons was fidgety from the feeling of anxiety regarding the Warthog, but Grif couldn't be more relaxed. Simmons looked around for something to do. His sight caught the dynamite again for a second, but he decided that wasn't the best idea. He briefly thought about how he wished Grif was even capable of having second thoughts like that. The Warthog shifted as Grif sat up some. "I'm bored." "Let's go back then. The jeep is being weird." "It's the same as it was ten minutes ago, Simmons. Just let it go," "I'm serious!" "You're always serious, could you take it easy for a while? Jeez, I should expect nothing less from the kiss-ass." Grif sneered. Simmons groaned. "Fine, but when something goes wrong- not if, when- you do not get to blame it on me. And I get to say I told you so." "Fine. Tightass."

Ten minutes went by. Vague conversation led to deeper questions and discussions about things going on in the Gulch. Simmons seemed way more into the discussion than Grif unless Grif was the one talking. It was actually sort of nice; It was refreshing compared to the constant ridiculous grumbling and bickering. They were both thinking it.

“So, what I’m saying is, honestly, who fuckin’ cares which side of the canyon we’re on, whichever color we’re wearing or anything like that?” Grif threw his hands up in a heated shrug, nearly knocking one into Simmons’s helmet. “Jesus... Yeah, I mean you’re right, it’s pretty goddamn stupid.Especially given that it’s a canyon, with no fucking merit to have control over anyway. Not to mention the fact that you’d do the same amount of not working on either side.” Simmons agreed, holding Grif’s hand away from his helmet. The orange tinted soldier pulled it away and shifted in his seat to face him more.”Dude, I don’t even know what you guys look like.” he stated with a voice of discontent. That clearly had been on his mind for a while. There was a pause.

“Take your helmet off.”

“What? No! Why? You take your helmet off!”

“Okay, fine. Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

“Don’t say it like that. Why would I do that? I’d probably die if I did.”

“Why would you die? Stop being a baby and take it off; Look, same time,” Grif put his hands on the sides of his helmet, ready to pull it off. Simmons knew Grif may be lazy, but that never stops him from being stubborn as hell when he wants something. He can be stubborn as hell about being lazy as hell. But right now, he wanted him... Wait, that sounded weird. Scratch that. Simmons caved.

“Fine, same time. God this is so fucking stupid.” he remarked, but his hands went up to his helmet anyways. “Ready?”

“Okay, one... Two... Three!” Grif counted down and Simmons pulled off his helmet. Only Simmons.

Grif hadn’t pulled hard enough to get it off the first time, and then stopped trying as he got... Distracted. Simmons’s tan skin and red hair are what he saw first, then his out-of-focus brown eyes, then, oh god, his freckles. Grif’s eyes were wide behind his visor, and suddenly his helmet was really hot. Simmons was just pissed off and embarrassed, glaring at him for fooling him into being the only one without his helmet. He reached over and put his hands on top of Grif’s on his helmet, ready to pull it off. “No, I’m not being the only one to do this, fuck you. Take that thing off, asshole. That’s not fair!” Simmons was pulling on the helmet, but from his angle it wasn’t exactly easy. Grif snapped out of it. “Okay, okay, fine, Jesus... Let go of me! I’m taking it off!” he knocked Simmons’s hands away and slid his helmet off of his head. His brown hair bounced down in a fluff. Simmons grabbed his glasses from where he’d put them in his armor and slid them onto his face.

Their eyes met, and there was silence. Simmons looked him over; His dark skin and the hazel eyes capturing him in an instant. Grif had a couple of tiny moles on his face, one under his left eye and one right above his jawline... It was cute, Simmons thought. Then he realized what he was thinking and now both of their faces were hot.

Staring at eachother was a strange experience. Both of them didn’t want to look away, but also didn’t want to seem weird. Not to mention now both of their cheeks were hot. It was getting to where they were aching to put their hands on the other’s face to closer examine it. Grif cleared his throat. “Uh. You wear... Glasses?” he asked, speaking up after what seemed like ages. That made Simmons look down and away a bit. “Yeah, my visor has the prescription I need though, so I only carry them around in case my visor cracks or something. I’m honestly surprised it hasn’t with you guys around. It’s good to be prepared.” he explained. Grif was amazed to finally put this voice to this face. Simmons thought the same. “So,” Simmons said, thought he started it and had no idea where he was going with it.

“Yeah. So. Uh, this is usually the part where I’d initiate truth or dare or something. If you were a girl.” Catching himself with that remark, it sounded more forced than ever. Are you kidding? Who knows how many years of sexual tension they had built up with their bickering and with Grif’s occasional gay remark, and how could we forget Grif’s calling Simmons gay. Of course he’d propose something as childish as that. Simmons knew something like that was coming eventually. He rolled his eyes, looking away from him and crossing his arms. “That’s the dumbest thing you could have said right now.” he said, not meeting his eyes. He looked troubled. Grif furrowed his eyebrows and looked at him, trying to see his face better again. “Uh, are you okay dude...?” he asked, kind of confused, but sounding more impatient as he wanted to see his face more and now the guy��s fuckin’ hiding it or something.

“Yeah, of course I’m fine? Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Simmons replied defensively. He seemed insecure about his appearance, though Grif had run into some hints towards that before. “Is this like... Like when you hide in the bathroom and cry, and then I go in there and the mirror’s all cracked up from you punching the shit out of your reflection?” he asked bluntly. Simmons tensed. Ouch. Grif sighed. “I don’t know why you do that. I think you look good, honestly. You know, for a dude.”

Simmons bit the inside of his cheek, looking back at Grif as he put his hand on his shoulder. Grif patted there, looking at him. “Cheer up, jackass. I mean, look at me. You could be this unlucky.” he said with a little laugh. “This is the only time I’ll admit you’re hotter than me. Hope you recorded that because I’m not saying it again.” Simmons’s face was hot again.

“Oh yeah. I got that on recording for sure.” he said, and Grif huffed.

“Good, then now you have something new to jerk off to when Sarge won’t tell you ‘Good work, Simmons!’“ he teased.

Simmons groaned. “God, you’re unbearable.”

Grif moved a little closer to him. “Hey, uh.” he had no control over the words that were leaving his mouth, they poured out like a waterfall pieced together from rash thoughts, “So, I mean, we’re alone, and I know you like what you see, and if I admit that so do I, do you think that maybe uh... We could do something about that?” he was looking at Simmons while he leaned kind of closer. Simmons’s eyes widened.

“What? Dude, and you call me gay all the time? That was gay. You want to do gay stuff with me?” he was in awe, taken aback by Grif’s proposition, but Grif took it as him shooting him down.

“Fine, okay, yeah, nevermind.”

“No,wait I uh. Okay, sure, I’m not really... Opposed. I guess. God, this is stupid.” his cheeks were burning, and he didn’t even know what Grif had in mind. Grif didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the yes before Simmons changed his mind, grabbing the ginger by the front of his armor and yanking him closer, kissing him immediately. God, they’d both forgotten what human contact felt like, and, well, Simmons never knew. Not kissing anyways. And definitely not more than that. Simmons was so tense that Grif broke away from the kiss to speak again.

“Dude, chill the fuck out, we’re the only two in the middle of this desert. Your secret is totally safe with me.” he said mockingly. A look of bewilderment crossed Simmons’s already distressed expression.

“What? My secret?! This was your idea!” he argued, and Grif of course ignored that completely and kissed him again, closing his eyes. Simmons couldn’t help but give in, allowing himself to, as Grif said it, ‘chill the fuck out’. He melted into the contact and his eyelids fell half shut. He leaned in slightly closer and put his hands on the sides of Grif’s face, then moved one to the orange soldier’s hair. This wasn’t happening, he thought, he’d wake up with a boner any minute now, he was pretty sure of it. Though, it just kept happening. It was still happening. Still. It’s really happening. Oh god, he thought, this is really happening and I have no idea how it works. Simmons grew tense again and Grif just moved his hands to wrap around Simmons’s middle and pull him closer. Simmons broke away and opened his eyes, looking at Grif, who then also opened his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Grif asked him, not trying to overstep any weird boundaries with him or something... Boundaries were something Simmons had a lot of, many of which Grif overstepped on a daily basis. But these would be in a whole new category.

“Yes I’m... I just don’t really, uh. Know how to do this.” he admitted, though he was aware that this was common knowledge.

“You’re doing fine, just-” Grif was interrupted by the Warthog sputtering under them and promptly falling out of commission completely. “Oh, god damn it. You have got to be kidding me.”

Simmons’s eyes grey wide and he moved back from Grif, though he stayed in his arms how he was being held. “I knew it! I knew there was something wrong with the jeep and you didn’t believe me, and now it’s dead! We’re dead!” he yelled in his usual panicked voice that came out when anything went wrong. Grif held onto him tighter. “It’s. Fine. Jesus, Simmons, you’d think by now you’d learn how to let something go but here we are, in the middle of sharing a fuckin’ moment, and you’re intent on yelling about something that doesn’t matter.”

“It does, matter, Grif! A lot!” he was this close to jumping out of the car and running back on his own, but something was keeping him from that. And it wasn’t the fact that Grif had a hold on him like he was the last person on the planet. It was the fact that it was Grif, and that we was in this situation. With him. “It’s... Fine, it’ll be... Okay...” he slowly calmed down, resting back to where he was before.

“Thank Christ... Uh, so where were we?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

--

A while later, and I mean a while, they arrived back to the others. They had a few more marks under their armor than they did going in, and under their helmets they wore wide, knowing grins. They both knew it’d be back to normal soon, though. Approaching them was none other than Sarge.

“Grif, Simmons, where’ve you two been?”

Simmons straightened up. “Our patrol didn’t go exactly as planned, Sarge.”

Yeah, I’ll say, Grif thought with a dumb smirk on his now chapped lips.

Sarge furrowed his brows beneath his visor and was paying closer attention now. “Did you find something? Wait a minute, where’s the jeep?”

Grif took a breath. This was gonna be interesting to explain away. “Yeeeah, it’s like this.”

#red versus blue #red vs blue #rvb #grif #simmons #grimmons #rvb fanfic #this might be inconsistent #i dont want to reread it again because i might begin to hate it and end up just deleting it and i need to get it out here #i forgot about it for a bit actually

[mara-tevith-solo]

Real Funny - part 7

Something I’ve been slow cooking for a few years, a little all over the place. Some plot pieces aren’t mine, just something I played with.

Trigger Warning; Contains swearing, violence, mentions of nudity and death

Hours passed as I listened to the activity beyond the curtains, lost in my own little world. The curtain moving snapped me from my thoughts as I sat up stiffly, watching Kenobi as he entered as quietly as possible. I guess it was night cycle. "Sergeant Skirata will be here in a few days to collect you. Generals Zey and Jusik both agreed that he was the best option for you." He seemed drawn and tired, as though he had aged years in a matter of hours. 

"Thank you General." I murmured softly, feeling as drawn as he looked. Kenobi was a good General, he cared about his troops and their well-being. 

"Don't forget to check in now and then." He smiled tightly, the expression not reaching his forget me not eyes.

"I won't forget sir." I assured with a half-assed smile of my own. 

"It's been a pleasure serving with you, Valeri. May the Force be with you." He was saying goodbye while we had privacy, just in case things got emotional for the both of us.

"And you as well, Obi-Jesus." I teased gently. It was what I had called him before I was assigned to the 212th and it got a genuine smile out of him. Without warning, the normally collected Jedi pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me like a brother would a fond sister. I smiled into his shoulder, knowing that he would always be counted as a good friend, no matter what. "You take care of yourself, no more sleeping for an hour and then being up for several days straight." I ordered playfully when he finally released me.

"Only if you don't get yourself hurt again." He responded before taking his leave. I sighed and laid back down, preparing myself for the days of waiting in boredom. 

Those days were long, sleep rarely finding me when I sought after it. I had known that Hardcase would die in Umbara, and I had been foolish to hope that he wouldn't. That foolishness had come full circle to bite me in the ass as hard as it could. I was resolved to believe that hope was stupid and reckless, but nothing eased the pain of the lose of the truest and closest friend I had ever had. Fives visited me when he could, sometimes just sitting with me, neither of us saying a word, other times we would watch soap operas on his comm padd "I have to ship out tonight, the 501st is leaving to resupply somewhere in the Outer Rim." He murmured softly against my hair, pulling me tighter into his chest. Our soap opera was forgotten on his hip as I burrowed my face into his red casual uniform. 

I stopped the tears before they fell, but I couldn't stop the way my skin heated with the sorrow "Promise you'll come home?" I whispered, not trusting my voice to not crack at a higher volume. It was only then that I realized that I wasn't referring to a place when I mentioned 'home'. It was more of a group of people, a common ideal. 

He seemed to pick up on that as he smiled into my hair "I promise I'll come home to my favorite girl." He hummed, referring to me  as 'home'. Thankfully, my blush was indistinguishable from my flushed sorrow. I hummed in response, moving so that my tight side was more comfortable. The last hours passed like blinks, and all too soon, Fives had to leave to suit up. 

It was another sleepless night before Kix opened the curtains to reveal my salvation. "She's just a kid." I heard Skirata murmur to the Null beside him, worry evident on his features as he looked me over. 

I remained at attention, not having been dismissed by the blue striped lieutenant at his side "I'm twenty-six, sir." I corrected as respectfully as possible, my eyes fixed on the two as I waited patiently for the lieutenant to command me to ease. He didn't though, seeming to put me through a test of patience. Joke was on him though. 

Kal cleverly hid his grin behind an itching of his nose "Still a kid to me." There was still humor in his tone. The Null seemed satisfied after a few more seconds, and returned the salute. I didn't let my relief show as I moved into the at ease position, my stomach wound burning with the strain. "So, why did you request me?" 

"A Commander was moving for my full removal from the GAR. I have no where to go, and I would cease to be useful to the Republic..." I cut myself off, having wanted to add 'to the clones'. They were what I really cared about at the end of the day. 

"And since I don't see much action, you thought that I'd be the best bet to appease the Commander?" There was a hinting in his tone. He had seen my service record, naturally. So there left few other options as to why a Commander was moving for the removal of a soldier. 

I perced my lips and felt that anger and betrayal to my core "The Commander and I have since cut ties sir." He seemed shocked to say the least, sharing a look with the helmet of the Null.

The two shuffled uncomfortably for a moment before readdressing the issue "Do you have anything to change into?" Without a word, Kix, who had been silent as a church mouse to one side, presented me with a pile of folded clothes and my boots, cleaned of the Umbaran soil. I took them with a nod at Skirata, before the three men left. Once the curtains were closed, I was stripping, the ring on the chain thumping lightly against my breastbone every time I straightened up. I dressed in the plain undergarments, black fabric pants, loose red tank top, and an aviator's jacket that was fur lined inside. I was thankful for it, and stuck my hands in the pockets experimentally. I was confused and curious when something thin and metallic met my left hand. When I pulled it out, it was Fives's dog-tags, and also Kix's and Jesse's. I smiled and teared up at the memento before slipping it over my head and joining the males outside of the curtains. "Your kit's already on our ship. Say your goodbyes, we'll wait outside." Skirata smiled warmly, catching sight of the tags and the ring before he and the Null left. 

I turned to Kix, who stood there like a statue, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the floor "Be safe, that's an order." He murmured, barely looking up at me.

"The same goes for you, and use protection, don't want to hear about you getting an STD." I winked with a little smile.

"Come here you." He groaned, folding me against his chest as though he never wanted to let go. It was silent between us, no words needing to be said, the embrace said them all. "Please be safe." He pleaded, pressing a chaste kiss against my temple.

"I'll be as safe as I can." I promised with a minute tightening of my hold on his waist before we both backed away from each other. It hadn't felt like enough, but time waits for no one. He gave a final wet smile and flicked my nose before I gave a slight wave and turned my back to the med center, never looking back. Not even when the doors closed behind me and the future stood not even a pace away. I knew, that if I looked back, I'd never be able to take another step forward. Skirata gave me a knowing glance before leading myself and the Null to the ship.  

It was an old smuggler's ship that held no real merit of its capabilities, normal grey, a single wing off to the side. It was average. The inside though was more than average. It had weaponry and hidden panels that, no doubt, had hidey holes behind them. My kit was in a clear bag behind a seat, completely repaired with a fresh coat of paint. I was almost sad to be leaving without thanking whomever had done that. "Make yourself at home." The Null grinned from the pilot's seat, his helmet on the console. There was a warm smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes that tipped me off to who he was. I was wary as I sat in the seat my kit was behind, watching him from the corner of my eye. Mereel was a notorious flirt, even in the vague wiki profiles. "I'm Mereel." He offered me a hand in greeting, his eyes honey light and dancing.

"Val." I smiled stiffly, feeling awkward under his gaze of interest. I shook his hand non-the-less, it would have been rude not to.   

"So, what's a pretty sergeant like you doing single?" He grinned, beginning the start up phases for the ship. 

I was taken aback by the question, staring at him wide eyed as his fingers worked skillfully over the console. My brain was everywhere at once before I realized that I was taking too long to answer "I don't take well to betrayal." I turned to face the front as Kal entered the cockpit, strapping myself into the seat. Mereel, thankfully, left the conversation where it sat.

My life was off to a new adventure, broader horizons awaited. But I would never forget where I came from, and what struggles I had to endure to get to where I was. As the ship rumbled out of the station, I gripped the armrests firmly, breathing in the air of new opportunity.   

#the clone wars #commander wollfe #obi-wan kenobi #oc #Clone Troopers #null arc #kal skirata

[jeepsister72-blog]

The Pros and Cons of Copper Cookware

[Photographs: Vicky Wasik. Video: Joel Russo.]

We've spent years here at Serious Eats building a compendium of cookware information, covering nearly all you need to know about buying, caring for, and cooking in everything from cast iron and carbon steel to modern nonstick and stainless steel pots and pans. But there's one classic material we've written almost nothing about: copper. The reason shouldn't surprise anyone who's considered buying a copper pan and then seen the price tag. That sh*t's expensive!

And yet it's worth a look, in the same way a luxury sports car is of interest to just about any car enthusiast, whether they have the dough to buy one or not. The car analogy is particularly apt, since copper really is the fancy sports car of the cookware world. It's flashy, it's fast, and it doesn't come cheap. Though, to be fair, it sells for a hell of a lot less than just about any car, even the most basic one, and most people own at least one of those, right?*

* I, a person who knows nothing about automobiles and who didn't get his driver's license until he was 29 years old, have no business writing car analogies. VROOM, VROOM!!

Given the historic importance of copper in the kitchen, and its continued use in higher-end French restaurants and some homes, it helps to understand a bit about it. Here we'll take a look at copper cookware to suss out its strengths and weaknesses, and try to help you decide whether you want to go deeper by investing in some.

Since Serious Eats is a media company and not an investment bank, we unfortunately aren't in possession of the types of funds that would allow us to buy a large collection of copper cookware on which to get tons of firsthand experience. To help fill in some of our knowledge gaps, we headed up to East Greenwich, Rhode Island, to visit Jim Hamann at the industrial complex where he runs his two copper cookware companies, East Coast Tinning (dedicated to vintage copper cookware restoration) and Duparquet Copper Cookware (where he makes his own line of copper pots and pans).

Jim gave us a tour of his factory, answered a litany of my copper questions, let me spin a couple pans with him, and allowed us to film him in action.

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Copper was the first metal to be worked by human hands, and that history goes back a long, long time—about 11,000 years. That makes the human relationship with copper about as old as agriculture, though for several millennia we didn't do much with it beyond shaping it into decorative objects. Several thousand years later, but still some time before the Egyptians raised their pyramids, our ancestors figured out how to hammer copper sheets into bowls and other vessels. By the time of the Romans, if not before, we were using it to make cookware.

Copper is famed for its ability to conduct heat and electricity—it's no accident that it's copper and not iron that runs through the electrical wires in our walls—and it's this quality that makes it such an interesting metal for cooking. In a lot of ways, copper sits at the opposite end of the conduction and heat-retention spectrum as cast iron, making them two very different, yet complementary, materials for cooking.

Cast iron, as a reminder, conducts heat relatively poorly. It heats slowly and is prone to hot spots, but once it does get hot, it holds onto that heat very well. This makes it great for doing things like searing thick steaks, since you want the pan to remain hot when the cold meat hits it, which ensures the steak will sear and brown as efficiently as possible. Cast iron's great heat retention also makes it ideal for slow-cooking dishes that require sustained, even heat, like stews and braises, especially when placed in an oven, where the cooking vessel is heated from all sides.

The even heat of this copper skillet made a steady ring of brown around each little pancake, no matter which part of the pancakes was closer to the pan's edge and which closer to the center.

Copper inverts these rules. It heats quickly and evenly, but it loses that heat just as fast. This responsiveness gives it a nimbleness and agility that can be very useful for delicate proteins like fish and seafood, as well as sauces, caramel, and chocolate—remove a copper saucepan holding a delicate sauce from the heat and its temperature will drop rapidly, reducing the chances the sauce overcooks or breaks from exposure to the retained heat in the metal.

If you'll allow this automobile-ignoramus to return once more to my car analogy, you can think of copper as the sports car of the cookware world, and cast iron as the pickup truck. They're both useful for certain—often very different—tasks.

That's the simple explanation, anyway. Put a handful of cooking geeks in a room and the conversation heats up faster than copper on a flame. Arguments erupt over whether copper is good enough to justify its cost, and whether its relative merits really set it far enough apart from the crowd of more affordable cookware.

Someone from the Modernist Cuisine team might point out that copper's unrivaled conduction isn't the full picture. They'd argue that burner size and the thickness of the metal are factors that are just as critical, noting that a 7mm-thick piece of aluminum heats just as evenly as a 2.5mm-thick piece of copper.

Inevitably someone else will refute that, arguing that the Modernist team only looked at evenness of heating and failed to consider copper's responsiveness—how quickly it heats up and cools down as more or less heat is applied to it. You can have copper's evenness with a 7mm-thick aluminum pan, they'll say, but you'll lose its responsiveness in the process.

An engineer, trying to keep the peace, will kindly put together a summation of the pros and cons of the primary cookware metals, explaining in lay terms essential concepts like thermal conductivity, heat capacity, specific heat, and thermal diffusivity. In the process, he will make a pretty good case that copper has a lot going for it. But then it falls apart when specific pots and pans get called into question, and ultimately everyone just starts trolling everyone else and we get nowhere.

And that, really, is the challenge: The relative performance of a pan—any pan—can be an extremely difficult thing to assess given the variations in mass, thickness, shape, size, and material from one design to the next. Not to mention that the effectiveness of any given pan is dependent on what's being cooked in it, and the experience of the hands using the tools in question.

I invite anyone who's up to it to try to wade into the more advanced physics to see if they can't come up with a more definitive answer than what's already out there, but here's where I've landed: copper is a unique metal with unique properties that make for some of the most deft and efficient cookware in the kitchen. Other options, including plain aluminum and stainless steel with a thick aluminum core, can rival (or come close to) copper in many—but perhaps not all—ways. Copper certainly loses on cost, but it wins on looking pretty freaking great, if looks matter to you.

So, do you need copper cookware? No, no more than a person who drives needs a sports car (or any other very expensive car). I've been working as a professional cook for 15 years in restaurants and food media, and I've rarely used copper. Most professional cooks rarely use copper, and you can absolutely cook great things without ever picking it up.

But should you eschew copper? No, no more than a car enthusiast should avoid buying a sports car. If you want a sports car, if you'd like the experience of driving a sports car, if you can afford and are willing to pay for a sports car, then yes, for sure, get yourself a sports car!

I want to add that I personally find a well-made copper pan to be an object of beauty in the kitchen, like a great piece of vintage cast iron, and that aesthetic quality can have value in and of itself. Its preciousness can remind you to pay more attention as you cook and, consequently, can help you cook better. At least, it does if you find meaning in the form of an object and not just its ability to accomplish a task.

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A tin-lined copper skillet.

One of the key things to know about copper is that it's reactive. Acids like vinegar and tomatoes can leach copper into the food; over time, the ingestion of copper can be toxic. For this reason, most copper cookware is lined. What it's lined with is one of the main considerations to keep in mind when buying copper pots and pans.

Traditionally, copper was lined with tin. Tin is a pure element, like copper, and it has some fantastic qualities. First, and most critically for its role as a lining, it's totally inert—tin will not react with acids or anything else you would cook on it.

Second, and very importantly, tin is impressively nonstick all on its own, without any need for the seasoning we all strive to build up on cast iron. You can fry an egg, cook pancakes, or lightly sear a piece of fish on it and, for the most part, the food won't stick.

The downside is that tin has a low melting point of around 450°F (230°C), which a pan can quickly reach if left over a flame unattended and empty. For this reason, tin-lined copper should never be preheated while empty, and it should never be used for very high-heat searing (save your cast iron for that).

Tin is also somewhat soft, and can be worn away over time or damaged with metal utensils and abrasive scrubbing (I admit I have, on occasion, been a wee bit reckless and used a thin metal fish spatula on it). With care, a tin lining can last many, many years, but eventually even the most well-loved tin-lined copper pans will need re-tinning. While it's a rare event, you do have to factor that in when buying tin-lined copper, as it's an extra cost in the lifetime of the pan.

These days, though, the most common lining in copper pans is stainless steel. Lining copper with stainless steel is a much newer invention, since it's a heck of a lot more difficult to bond those two metals. The advantage that stainless steel offers is durability, just like any other stainless steel pan. The disadvantage is that it absolutely sucks in terms of adhesiveness: food loves to stick to stainless steel.

Also bad is that, while uncommon, if anything goes wrong with the stainless lining (say the lining decouples from the copper shell), you're probably out of luck. Unlike re-tinning, there's no easy way to fix a busted stainless steel–lined copper pan.

You will, on occasion, see copper lined with nickel, a practice that was briefly popular in the '90s, but has since fallen out of favor. More extravagantly, some copper pans are lined with silver. Silver, it turns out, is an even better conductor of heat than copper (not that conduction matters much with these ultra-thin linings), and it's supposedly very nonstick, though given the price, I don't expect to ever be able to confirm this firsthand.

In a few select cases, copper vessels aren't lined with anything at all. Jam pots, for instance, are made of bare copper since there's enough sugar in jam to prevent the fruit acids from reacting with the metal. There's also a plain copper mixing bowl intended solely for beating egg whites: the copper prevents sulphur atoms in the whites from bonding too tightly, helping to maintain the integrity of the foamy peaks.

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Aside from the lining material of a copper pan, the other most important characteristic that affects quality is the thickness of the copper. This can have a dramatic impact on the performance of the pan. The general wisdom is that copper cookware should be 2.5 to 3mm thick. Any thicker and you start to lose too much of the copper's rapid response to heat; any thinner and it won't heat as evenly as it should.

You're unlikely to find copper that's much thicker than 3mm, given its value and also density (copper is heavy, so adding more metal than is necessary just makes the pan that much more difficult to use), but you're quite likely to find copper that's less than 2.5mm thick. You're probably okay down to about 2mm, but any lower than that and you're getting into decorative pot territory: it may look nice in your kitchen but it won't perform well. This is where a lot of companies try to skimp, so make sure to confirm how thick the copper is before handing over your credit card.

Finally, the method used to produce copper cookware—whether it's made from spun copper, stamped copper, or rolled copper—is not determinative of its quality, even if spinning copper, as Jim Hamann does, requires a considerable amount of skill. Also, for those wondering about copper cookware that has hammer marks on it, while the practice of hammering copper was once used to strengthen the metal, today those hammer marks are almost always done by machine as a decorative gesture. They're mostly a matter of taste, and, again, not an indication of quality.

If you want some tips on where to find quality copper cookware, look at Hamann's tin- and silver-lined selections at Duparquet; the tin-lined pots and pans from Brooklyn Copper Cookware; and famous old-school makers like Mauviel and DeBuyer, which now focus on stainless steel–lined pans.

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As expensive as copper is, you can sometimes find a deal when shopping vintage goods (I saw one guy online who bought a pot worth hundreds for just $14). They key is to know what to look for. First, as mentioned above, is the thickness of the copper: it should ideally be 2.5 to 3mm thick (though down to 2mm is okay; larger stockpots are often thinner due to their size and weight).

If the piece is vintage, there's no chance it's lined with stainless steel, since that's a much more recent development. Nickel and silver are possible, but chances are an old piece will be lined with tin. The tin may have darkened—it darkens naturally over time, and you can use it with no ill effects—but if it's worn through to the copper below, it'll likely need to be re-tinned.

Old copper pots can come from many parts of the world, but if you're in the United States, chances are good that the cookware came from either the US, Britain, or France. There are some key details that can help you determine which country it's from.

At left, a pot from the UK with its sharply triangular handle attachment; at right, a French saucepan with a rounded triangle attachment; in the center, an American pot with an elongated, bar-like attachment.

The first is the shape of the handle where it attaches to the pot. Copper pots from the UK can be recognized by the sharp triangular shape of the pot-handle attachment, while French pots have a rounded triangle. American copper pots tend to mimic the French rounded triangle, but with a more elongated shape that can begin to appear bar-like (sometimes it's very bar-like). American pots also often have chunkier rivets than their European counterparts.

Left, the French (and American) teardrop handle loop; at right, the UK's keyhole loop.

You can pick up more clues from the end of the handle where the hanging loop is. The French loop hole looks like a teardrop, whereas in the UK it's more of a keyhole or an arch. Once again, American makers (many of whom came from France) mirrored French practices with a teardrop.

Beyond the handles, you should look for a maker's stamp, which can provide clear info about who made the pan and where it was made. (Jim Hamann of Duparquet got his company name by registering an old abandoned trademark from an American copper cookware company that went out of business in the 1930s.)

No matter how dingy an old copper pot may look, remember that, short of extreme damage (say, a hole in it), it can be fixed up like new. After re-tinning and polishing, what may have looked like a piece of trash could easily be an object of remarkable beauty and value. Sure, it's no Porsche, but good luck finding a dingy-but-perfectly-functioning one of those at the local junkyard.

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Source: https://www.seriouseats.com/2019/01/buying-copper-cookware.html

[placetobenation]

The moment you’ve all been waiting for has arrived and the voting for the Greatest WWE Tag Team Ever is open here. But there’s no need to get in a big hurry, voting remains open through the end of the year and I’ve got a few more of these articles planned. You can catch up on past House Afire articles here and check out the Facebook group here.

I’m starting something new with this column where I’ll try to talk a little about an older team that has little to no footage. I’m no historian and I’d much rather watch matches than do research for this, so by all means do your own research on teams you’re interested in, but I wanted to at least bring up a few teams.

We’ve got some real heavy hitters this week so let’s get to it.

Fabulous Kangaroos

Years Teamed in WWE: 1963-1964

Total Matches: Costello-Heffernan- 112,  Costello-St.Clair- 2

Combined Days of Tag Title Reigns: Costello-Heffernan 516 (WWWF U.S. title prior to consideration period)

Match Suggestions: Footage is so scarce and anything you find on YouTube is likely not the WWWF so feel free to watch to get an idea of their style, but there may not be any WWWF footage

Thoughts: It would appear that there are five different versions of the Fabulous Kangaroos (plus three versions of the New Fabulous Kangaroos.) At least those are the ones that appear on wrestlingdata, there may be more. I’m going to try to not just repeat the Wikipedia page, because you can check that out yourself. The original Kangaroos were Al Costello and Roy Heffernan and competed in Capitol Wrestling Corporation (the precursor to WWWF) from 1958-1963 until the company became what is today WWE. Historians and sources I found credit them as being the most over and historically important team of this time, truly being tag team pioneers. Wrestlingdata credits them with having 112 matches in WWWF in 1963-1964. They held the WWWF United States Tag Titles three times for a combined 516 days from 1960 to 1962 (which is technically before the consideration range.) The next iteration was Costello and Ray St. Clair who appeared in two matches at MSG in 1967. Wrestlingdata also says Costello and Don Kent worked under the Kangaroos gimmick in WWWF in 1972, but I can’t find what matches or how many there were. The fourth and fifth iterations of the Kangaroos did not appear in WWWF.

Placement Range: How do you judge the work of a team whose work you can’t see because there’s no WWWF footage? It’s very difficult to decide what to do. I decided I would consider any team with strong longevity, title reigns or historical significance. Historical significance is also difficult to judge, since WWE is a company that places little value on its own history, unless it is to advance whatever narrative they’re pushing at the moment. But all the historians and fans of the day agree the Fabulous Kangaroos were the best, most over and most important team of their time. If you go by the letter of the law, 112 matches in two years was a helluva lot to have with one company when there were so many territories. If you go by the spirit of the law, it seems clear that the Kangaroos had far-reaching influence in Capitol Wrestling and tag team wrestling in general in the period immediately before the consideration period. My original plan was to slot in a few teams from the 60s or early 70s into the bottom portion of my list, but…I kinda think the Kangaroos merit being a bit higher. I don’t know how high I can go without having a better idea of match quality, but it seems like the Kangaroos are the team to test those limits. For now I’m going to say middle of the back half of the list, maybe in the 55 to 85 range.

Tito Santana-Ricky Steamboat

Years Teamed in WWE: 1985-1987

Total Matches: 20

Combined Days of Tag Title Reigns: 0

Match Suggestions: vs. Dream Team (4/21/85), vs. Mr. Fuji-Don Muraco (11/22/85), vs. Moondog Spot-Rene Goulet (4/14/85)

Thoughts: Two of the greatest babyface workers to ever grace the WWF/E teamed together 20 times from 1985 through 1987. The results were spectacular. Three of those matches are posted in the Facebook thread, but frankly, their fate will live and die based on your thoughts of their match with the soon-to-be-named Dream Team. It takes place in the midst of the Valentine-Santana feud and, like the rest of that feud, it’s fantastic. I’d put it in consideration for best WWF tag team match of the 80s. If you’ve never seen it, what the hell are you waiting for? Watch it now, I’ll wait. Welcome back and you’re welcome. Even if you won’t consider Steamboat and Santana due to their lack of longevity, you should watch the match. If you do have other teams on your list based on one great match (like Austin-HHH, Austin-Michaels or Bret-Owen) you should watch that match and give some thought to Santana and Steamboat (and some extra credit to the Dream Team.)

Placement Range: I love the match with the Dream Team like Saturn loved Moppy. But you probably already guessed that. Santana and Steamboat will take up one of the last spots on my list as a personal favorite due to that match (and they were good in the other matches we saw.) Their lack of longevity prevents them from climbing higher, though. If you’re a voter that will consider a team based on one classic match, give that match a look and give Santana and Steamboat some thought.

  Brain Busters

Years Teamed in WWE: 1988-1989

Total Matches: 177

Combined Days of Tag Title Reigns: 76

Match Suggestions: vs. Hart Foundation (SummerSlam ’89), vs. Rockers (SNME 3/11/89), vs. Demolition (SNME 2/3 falls-7/29/89), vs. Strike Force (WM 5), w/ Demolition-Bolsheviks-Fabulous Rougeaus-Conquistadors vs. Powers of Pain-Rockers-British Bulldogs-Hart Foundation-Young Stallions (Survivor Series ’88), vs. Rockers (3/18/89), vs. Rockers (1/23/89)

Thoughts: Arn and Tully might be the best team at heel shenanigans, timing and cutting off the ring to ever grace a WWF ring (The Revival might be the other contender and I think both teams should take that as a compliment.) It’s just beautiful heel tag team wrestling. They have more great matches in a year than most teams could have in a lifetime. Their matches against Demolition are some of my favorite Demos matches, their SummerSlam match against the Harts is a great match and I could watch them wrestle The Rockers every day. They wrestled The Rockers both all the time and not nearly enough, as I love nearly all their matches. Some will knock them for longevity having only a year in the company, and that’s true, but it was during the time period where the company would run multiple house shows in the same day (the Busters and Rockers had another match at MSG the same day as the Boston Garden match mentioned) so they racked up more than 170 matches during that year.

Placement Range: Great work in every match, great matches with the Rockers and Harts and a title run add up to a tremendous year-long run. And that adds up to somewhere in the 20 to 35 range on my list.

Smoking Gunns

Years Teamed in WWE: 1993-1996

Total Matches: 456

Combined Days of Tag Title Reigns: 331

Match Suggestions: vs. Owen Hart-British Bulldog- (IYH: Mind Games), w/ Tatanka vs. Bam Bam Bigelow- Headshrinkers (SummerSlam ’93), vs. Owen Hart-Yokozuna (IYH 1), vs. Owen Hart-British Bulldog (IYH: Buried Alive), vs. Owen Hart-Yokozuna (WM 11)

Thoughts: Maybe the OKeyst team to ever compete in the WWF/E. They weren’t especially good nor were they bad overall or at any one particular thing. Everything you can say about them has a counterpoint. They were the best team of their era and “held the division together” (whatever that means), but the other teams of the time were a bad lot. They didn’t have anyone to work with, but they didn’t have any great or memorable matches (and their best matches were against Owen and Bulldog, who are better workers than the Gunns.) They had dumb over-gimmicked characters, but their characters were far more believable and relatable than others of the time, like hog farmer hillbillies and fitness freaks. For every yin there is a yang (not Jimmy Wang Yang…probably) with the Gunns. They did have impressive longevity (but again you’d think they’d have accomplished more with than kind of time with the company.) They definitely are deserving of a place on the list, but I think they’ll have a wide range of placements.

Placement Range: It would be fitting if they came in right at 50, since for every high there is a low with the Gunns. But I think they deserve to be a bit higher for two reasons. One, they do have impressive longevity and were the focus of the division for a decent amount of time. The other reason is simply that the list of other candidates is a bit lacking, with a lot of teams having flaws in match quality or longevity. I think the Smoking Gunns will wind up finishing between 35 and 50 on my list.

MNM

Years Teamed in WWE: 2004-2007

Total Matches: 196

Combined Days of Tag Title Reigns: 285

Match Suggestions: vs. London-Kendrick vs. Hardy Boyz vs. Regal-Taylor (ladder match Armageddon ’06), vs. London-Kendrick (Judgment Day ’06), vs. London-Kendrick (4/7/06-SD), vs. Hardy Boyz (December to Dismember ’06), vs. Hardy Boyz (Royal Rumble ’07), vs. Batista-Rey Mysterio (SD 12/30/05)

Thoughts: Sneaky great resume. Their match against the Hardy Boyz at Royal Rumble ’07 is one of the WWE’s best examples of a Southern style tag match with MNM getting the heat on the Hardys. That match is a classic, but the match at December to Dismember was also excellent, and stood out like a diamond in a goat’s ass on that dreadful PPV. They were also involved in the four-way ladder match at Armageddon ’06 and had a number of outstanding matches with London and Kendrick. In addition to these matches, they had great characters and often hobnobbed with and opposed main eventers, feuding with Batista-Rey, Batista-Eddie and Eddie-Rey at various times. MNM always felt like a big deal and always delivered in the ring.

Placement Range: They had the feel of a main event act, had classic matches with the Hardy Boyz and always tore the house down with London and Kendrick. They never felt out of place opposing super-teams made of main eventers. The only thing holding them back is longevity with just under 200 matches, but that’s enough to place them inside my top 15. They’d probably be top 10 with a few more matches and I wouldn’t argue much with anyone that had them that high.

  Harper-Rowan

Years Teamed in WWE: 2012-2018

Total Matches: 398

Combined Days of Tag Title Reigns: 184 (NXT and SD)

Match Suggestions: w/ Bray Wyatt vs. The Shield (Elimination Chamber ’14), vs. Usos (2/3 falls Battleground ’14), vs. Usos (Money in the Bank ’14), w/Bray Wyatt vs. The Shield (Raw-3/3/14), w/Bray Wyatt vs. Goldust-Cody Rhodes-Rey Mysterio (Raw-2/10/14), vs. Goldust-Cody Rhodes (SD 12/20/13), vs. New Day (SummerSlam ’18)

Thoughts: The Blyatts (or Wundgeons if you prefer) are a tough team to evaluate. They’ve got great matches against the Usos, Rhodes brothers and the six-man match against The Shield at Elimination Chamber is a classic. I really like their work, especially when they were the Wyatt Family. As the Bludgeon Brothers they’ve been the top team and focus of the division earlier this year, which I found terribly disappointing (that’s not necessarily their fault, I’m constantly amazed by the ineptitude of WWE creatives to have The Bar, New Day and Usos all on SD and still not be able to have an interesting tag division.) It seems like the company was so focused on getting the Bludgeon Brothers over that they had them squash everyone and by the time they were ready to let the team have longer and better matches, they’d already beaten everyone and then Rowan got injured and here we are. They’ve got impressive longevity with just under 400 matches in the company. Individually, they check all the boxes, but it just feels like they could’ve been so much more. Maybe they still can after Rowan returns from injury.

Placement Range: Harper and Rowan have a very impressive resume of matches. Their classic six-man against The Shield and their matches against the Usos and Goldust-Cody put them in the top half of my list. Their longevity and title reigns boost them further, so I expect they’ll be between 25 and 40 on my list.

  Mustache Mountain

Years Teamed in WWE: 2017-2018

Total Matches: 31

Combined Days of Tag Title Reigns: 2 (NXT tag team titles)

Match Suggestions: vs. Undisputed Era- (NXT UK Championship 6/26/18), vs. Undisputed Era (NXT TV 7/11/18), vs. Undisputed Era (NXT Takeover- Brooklyn IV 8/18/18),

Thoughts: The trilogy of matches that Mustache Mountain had against the Undisputed Era earlier this year are some of the best tag matches the company has ever seen. The matches all played off each other and had an emotional hook. It was all tremendous stuff. If you haven’t seen those matches you need to watch them for your own good and before voting. Longevity is obviously their limiting factor, but they’ve had 31 matches for WWE, which is twice as many as HHH-Austin or Bret-Owen. So, if you weigh great matches heavily, you should seriously consider Mustache Mountain, as they didn’t have just one great match, they had three and I haven’t seen them have a bad match.

Placement Range: This will depend on how you weight longevity relative to match quality. But if you are comfortable putting teams on the list for one great match, Mustache Mountain should be on your radar. I said earlier that Santana-Steamboat will make the back end of my list. Well, Mustache Mountain has more matches and better matches than the Santana-Steamboat team, so they will make it, as well. They’ll be in the bottom quarter, but they’ll grab one of those last spots.

  Hardy Boyz

Years Teamed in WWE: 1996-2009, 2017

Total Matches: 603

Combined Days of Tag Title Reigns: 229

Match Suggestions: vs. The World’s Greatest Tag Team- (One Night Stand ’07- Ladder Match), vs. APA (Fully Loaded ’99), vs. London-Kendrick vs. MNM vs. Regal-Taylor (ladder match Armageddon ’06), vs. The Bar (Extreme Rules ’17 cage match), vs. The Bar (Great Balls of Fire ’17, iron man) vs. Dudley Boyz vs. Edge-Christian (SummerSlam ’00- TLC Match) , vs. Dudley Boyz vs. Edge-Christian (WM X7- TLC Match), vs. Dudley Boyz vs. Edge-Christian (WM 2000- Ladder Match) vs. Edge & Christian vs. Dudley Boyz vs. Benoit-Jericho (TLC- SD- 5/24/01), vs. MNM (Royal Rumble ’07), vs. MNM (December to Dismember ’06)

Thoughts: Strong number one contenders. If the Hardy Boyz don’t check all the boxes for you, I’m not sure what you’re looking for. Look at this list of match recommendations. They’ve got tons of classic matches you remember easily, spanning nearly 20 years and with a wide variety of opponents. Their ladder and TLC matches were revolutionary at the time and remain incredibly entertaining today, among some of the best matches in company history. Now, I’ll grant you that a lot of the matches on their list are ladder matches and TLCs. Some may dismiss them as daredevils or stunt men because of this, but they can put on classic straight tags, as well. Look no further than their matches with MNM in late ’06 and early ’07. Their return at WrestleMania 33 was a great moment for them and one of the highlights of the show, and they showed they still had it in the ring with their matches against The Bar in ’17. The helped re-energize the tag division in ’99-’00 and have had more than 600 matches with the company, putting them in the upper echelon of teams for longevity. Matt and Jeff are one of first teams that come to mind when I think of WWE tag teams, and they merit strong consideration for a top spot (or THE top spot.)

Placement Range: One of a very few teams I’d consider for the top spot. A lock for my top 5.

 That’s it for this week. I’ll be back soon looking at more teams. Again, if I missed any matches or other highlights let us know on the Facebook page.

#IFTTT #Place to Be Nation

[sleepadvisor]

Our Tempurpedic vs. Casper Bed Comparison for 2017

Casper is a brand that’s relatively new on the block, and it is one that’s shaping up to be a strong competitor. However, can it hold up against Tempurpedic which has more than 20 years of experience and expertise in the mattress industry?

That’s right – we will be stacking two particularly exciting mattresses against each other – the comparatively new Casper vs. the established Tempurpedic. For this comparison, we have decided to choose the TEMPUR-Cloud Supreme Soft Mattress as it is one of the best-selling units of the line.

So, without any further ado, let’s jump right into the Casper vs. Tempurpedic mattress comparison and see which one would perform better.

Want to see even more options? Check out our top picks for the best mattress you can buy.

Construction/Materials/Layers

These are essential qualities of the mattress, and it is obvious that they are of enhanced importance.

Casper Construction

The Casper mattress is 9.5 inches thick, and it is made out of 4 different layers of memory foam.

The 1st layer of the Casper is made out of poly foam, and it is 1.5 inches thick. The material can be characterized as responsive, and it allows for free movement throughout your sleep. It is also the layer that’s going to attribute to the overall bounce of the bed. This layer does a great job to diminish the heat retention and ensure that the mattress is breathable.

The 2nd layer is comprised of 4.0 PCF memory foam which is intended to deliver the necessary pressure relief, support, and body contouring. This is what the majority of people are looking forward to when it comes to it. The manufacturer has placed it right below the poly foam layer to minimize its heat retention. The heat that is absorbed by this material is intended to remain beneath the surface layer to prevent you from feeling it.

The 3rd layer is made of 2.5 PCF support foam, and it is 1.5 inches thick. It’s intended to ensure that you receive a proper transition towards the base layer of the mattress. It is acting like nothing but a transitional layer which is also quite breathable.

The 4th and last layer of the Casper is made of 5 PCF high-density support foam, and it is 5 inches thick. This is designed to function as a foundation for the unit, and it is going to hold its entire structural integrity. This is something that you want to keep in mind.

All of the densities that we cite have been taken from the website of the manufacturer, and even though they have been taken down, we’ve used the reference from there.

Tempurpedic Construction

Now that we’ve seen the construction of the Casper mattress, let’s have a look at the highly priced Tempurpedic mattress.

The 1st layer of the Tempurpedic is made for comfort. It’s comprised of 2 inches of visco-elastic memory foam. This is what’s intended to deliver the initial soft feel. That’s a sensation that a lot of sleepers are looking forward to. Unlike its counterpart, the Tempurpedic relies on the first layer to contour your body and to hug it conveniently. This is what the mattresses of this line have been particularly famous for.

The 2nd layer is made out of another Visco elastic memory foam, and it’s intended to deliver both comfort and support. Even though it might seem like the same thing, this one is slightly denser, and it delivers a rather firm sensation. This is what’s going to enhance the support as the firmer appeal will also provide you with the proper transition from the top comfort layers to the foundation one, making the entire sensation a whole lot smoother.

The 3rd layer is made out of polyurethane. It is 4 inches thick, and it acts as the main transition layer between the base and the comfort foams. It is particularly convenient.

The 4th layer, which is also the last one in this Tempurpedic, is made out of 3.5 inches high-density polyurethane foam. It is very dense, and it is going to ensure the deep compression support that you will certainly need to feel the proper comfort.

All in all, the constructions do seem quite similar. This is something that you might want to keep in mind. Now, let’s move forward to other distinctive characteristics.

Firmness/Support/Comfort

Casper Firmness

Regarding firmness, the bed scores around 6-7 out of 10. This hinges on the medium firmness line, but for some heavier sleepers, it feels a bit more. If you are over 180 pounds, you will feel the Casper to be a bit firmer. The reason for this is quite simple – the mattress has 4.5 inches of comforting layers, and as your weight presses them down, you will come in contact with the high-density support foam which is far tougher in comparison. This something you’d want to account for.

The Casper mattress brings a splendid overall sensation and proper bounce. Unlike memory foam mattresses which are rather traditional, this one is quite responsive. This means that you will not feel as if you are drowning in quicksand. You will see an approximation of about 2.5 inches of sinking which is quite convenient. The hug is moderate while the pressure relief and support are pronounced and explicit.

All in all, given the moderate price tag, we’d say that the bed performs extraordinarily well. This is something that we can’t deny.

Tempurpedic Firmness

On the other hand, we have the 2 inches of the sinking of this particular mattress. Regarding firmness, the Tempurpedic scores around 5-6 out of 10 on the firmness scale which is a bit softer in comparison. The initial 2-inches sinking would be increased to about 3-inches after a few seconds. This is something that some people might not prefer. However, the hug is balanced and well-rounded, and it allows for the lighter areas of your body to sink in properly as well. This is going to help regarding pressure relief.

The support is something that impresses. If you are a stomach sleeper, you will most definitely appreciate the bed as particularly reliable. This is something that you should most definitely keep in mind. However, if you are heavier, the Tempurpedic mattress might prove to be slightly softer, leading to a rather awkward spinal alignment.

Tempurpedic vs. Casper Side by Side Comparison

 CasperTempurpedic MaterialsMemory foam and coolingMemory foam and poly foam Height9.5”11.5” Firmness6-7/105-6/10 Motion TransferVery MinimalVery Minimal SupportGreatGood Warranty10 years10 years Trial Period100 nightsDepends on retailer

Should You Buy a Casper or a Tempurpedic?

It goes without saying that both of these options are excellent – there is no doubt about it. They offer high quality of the materials, managed heat retention and proper capabilities.

However, there can only be one winner, and this battle doesn’t end in a draw. We’d have to say that the Casper mattress is definitely something that you should consider. It is extremely cheaper in comparison, and its performance doesn’t really step back. In fact, we think that it even outperforms the Tempurpedic. The price difference alone should be enough for you to make the right call. So, let’s break it down a bit.

Why is Casper the Better Option?

Feel and Comfort – the Casper brings adequate support for the wider range of sleepers, it has a very nice feel and splendid comfort. It is a bed that’s designed to fit the needs of the majority of people, and it scores a medium 6 out of 10 on the firmness scale which is quite appropriate.

Price – the difference in the prices is absolutely tremendous. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t even feel as if we are comparing to objects which are comparable at all. The Casper is almost 4 times cheaper.

Transparency – that’s just it. Tempurpedic is quite secretive about the materials they use. If you notice, we haven’t mentioned how dense the layers are – this is because we don’t really know.

Check CASPER Pricing & Availability Here

Why would you want to consider the Tempurpedic?

You have no problem spending a lot of money – if the price is not an issue, this is a great option. Even though we don’t believe it’s worth that kind of money, some sleepers don’t really care about that side of things. If you can afford it, Tempurpedic is definitely a great choice – there’s no doubt about it.

You are a fan of memory foam units – as far as its construction and materials go, memory foam is what you will get. If you are a fan of the sleeping sensation that’s brought by it – this is a great choice.

As you can see, both options have their merits. Even though we are definitively behind going for the Casper, we can’t deny the performance capabilities of its counterpart as well.

Check TEMPURPEDIC Pricing & Availability Here

Recommended Reading

The 9 Best Memory Foam Mattresses in 2017

The Best Couple’s Beds For 2017

The 7 Best Side Sleeper Mattresses – 2017 Reviews & Ratings

The post Our Tempurpedic vs. Casper Bed Comparison for 2017 appeared first on The Sleep Advisor.

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[thesleepstudies]

Best reclining sofa and best recliners for back pain and heavy people – based on 1300+ user experiences

The results you’ll see below are based on consultations with 4 furniture repair experts and statistical modeling of over 1300 user reviews of the recliners.

About 8 months ago the experts helped us make the initial picks of 17 products. We then analyzed all the user experiences and used that data to get to the quality ratings you’ll see below.

What are you looking for?

This guide is split into 3 sections – click one of the buttons below to skip to the section you’re interested in.

Best reclining sofa / Best recliner for back pain / Best recliner for heavy people

According to the user satisfaction ratings, this is by far the best reclining sofa.

Best reclining sofa - Homelegance bonded leather

Homelegance was also one of the first brands our panel of furniture repair experts mentioned. What they stressed is the fact that it’s one of the brands with the lowest %s of malfunctions – whether it’s the classic mechanism or the power sofa (it comes in both versions).

The firmness and loft are in the medium range and what we’ve seen is that 92 % of satisfaction with the comfort.

More info:

Materials:

Leather (PU, bonded)

Percentages – Polyester (74), Leather (18), Cotton (10)

Width of the seat: 21 “

Colors available: black and brown

Design of the armrest – rolled with tufted channels and nail accents on the side

Height of the armrest: 25 “

Mechanism – double-reclining levers for the classic and power mechanism for the power recliner

Dimensions: 90 x 38.5 x 40 “

Also available: chair and loveseat in matching colors

Best recliner chairs – Merit Glider Club & Esright Ergonomic

The “race’ was too close for us to pick only one recliner – both the Merit and the Esright ended up with pretty much the same ratings overall.

The choice between the two will come down to your preference – the Merit is more of classic and it’s a “beast” in terms of comfort and size.

On the other hand, the Esright is the obvious pick if additional features like massage and heating are a factor for you.

Let’s take a moment to analyze what the two recliners have to offer.

Merit Glider Club

The overfilled baffles for the back make it unparalleled in terms of balancing support, comfort and value for money.

We’ve seen products with similar features, frame and material quality cost 300-400 % more than the Merit Glider.

The depth and width of the seat is (21.75 x 22.5m x 19.5 “) is at the sweet spot to accommodate most body frames – including people on the heavier side. The height of the sit is 36 “.

The recline mechanism is classic – meaning that the footrest comes up as you tilt the back. The mechanism is easy to unlock and lock back into place just by pressing your legs against the footrest.

Bottom line – if you’re not looking to spend a fortune on a recliner, the Merit Glider will exceed your expectations.

Best recliner for back pain and top value for money – Esright Ergonomic Heated Massage Chair

When we started working on this guide about 8 months back and we saw this Esright on the list that our furniture repair consultants put together we didn’t think it will find it’s way to our top picks.

Why?

Because when we see the word “massage” we expect a hair that costs thousands.

That’s why we were taken aback by the price – it’s a fraction of what similar chairs cost. And that’s not an exaggeration – chairs with a heating and massage features go for 500-800 % more than this Esright.

The reason behind it is that most of these high-end models come in classic leather, while this Esright is PU. The good part about PU is that, if well-made like it is with this chair, it looks and feels just like real leather and it’s more durable, resistant to stains and spills and easier to clean.

For us, as well as most users we talked to, the point about it not being real leather is moot. In fact, we’d choose this Esright over the crazy expensive leather models even if they were much closer in price - if you ask us, this Esright is THE best recliner for back pain.

Bottom line

There’s no better recliner for people with back pain out there. The one-piece arched design of the back-rest relieves the muscle tension along your spine and the nerve pressure that’s the cause of back pain in a vast majority of cases.

Add the massage and the heating feature (5 control modes and 2 levels of intensity) and you’re left with one question, “How in the world is the price tag so low?”

Best recliner for heavy people – The Stallion 500

People on the heavier side HAVE TO be extremely picky about what they spend their money on.

In these 8 months of putting this guide together – we’ve seen it all. Most products that claim to be heavy-duty had with no clear substance behind the claims…majority not even listing the capacity of the chair.

That’s what different about the Stallion 500

The 500 in the name stands for the capacity of 500 lbs and it’s by far the highest we’ve seen.

More importantly,we were able to confirm the claims by sifting through every experience of users we could find. The Stallion 500 is THE best recliner for heavy people, and the "race" is not even close.

If recliners were people, the Stallion would be the Hulk.

Reference info about choosing the best reclining sofa:

For most homeowners, one of the costliest items they purchase is the sofa. This single item of furniture must be durable, attractive, and comfortable. It also has to be ageless, able to “go with the flow” when decorating tastes change. The choice becomes even more difficult when you are looking for a living room sofa with multiple uses, such as a sleeper sofa or reclining sofa. With that in mind here are some guidelines to help you make your ultimate decision.

Fitting a Reclining Sofa

The foremost requirement for a reclining sofa is that it fits. It should fit the room, certainly, but it should also fit the person who will be sitting in it. Sit in the chair for at least 5 minutes in the showroom. Your feet should reach the floor to ensure comfort. Does the headrest push your head forward when you are in an upright position? Are there bumps in the padding or upholstery? When the recliner is fully extended, does it still fit your body? There should be proper lumbar support when reclined, as well as support for your lower legs and comfortable positioning of the headrest.

Choosing Foam

Foam density is a major indication of the comfort and durability of any piece of furniture. Foam density also affects how well the cushion keeps its shape. Upholstery foam ranges in density from 0.9 to 2.5. For a recliner which will see a lot of use, look for a foam density rating of no less than 1.9. This will be more comfortable, and the recliner sofa will keep its shape better than less-dense foam.

Frame and Structure

It is really easy to overlook the need for a good structure. Shoppers get caught up in upholstery fabrics, styles, textures, cost, and colors, and forget to look under the sofa. If possible, look at the underside of the sofa. If the salesperson won’t turn the sofa over, ask to see the print materials for the furniture. Here are some things to watch out for:

“Solid wood” and “Real Wood”

These are designations that can be used for press-board. This is simply sawdust and wood chips that have been suspended in glue and pressed into the shape of a board. The end result is a weak plank with no wood grain running through it. There is no inherent strength to the plank, so screws will strip out of the board. In addition, this type of board is not strong enough to stand up to the rough life of a recliner. Pressboard is soft and fragile, breaking down over time.

Fasteners

Take a look at the fasteners that hold all of the mechanisms together. Are they plastic or metal? Plastic screws will break from the constant movement of the mechanisms of a sofa recliner. The screws, themselves, should be substantial rather than small.

Hardwood

The frame of the sofa should be made of solid hardwood such as birch, poplar, or oak. It is more expensive, but at least the sofa will last until you are sick of it, instead of breaking down before you have it paid off. Hardwood runs about $1000 more than the cheap stuff.

Plywood

The next top choice for frame materials is plywood. High-quality plywood is made of layers of wood glued and pressed together. These layers run in alternating directions, and can produce a nice, strong product. If you can see the edges of the plywood, look for “voids.” These are what appear to be holes in the edge of the plywood, and indicate poor quality construction. This is the type of plywood used to frame houses. You want furniture-grade plywood. Good plywood construction will cost about $300 more than the base rate.

Warranty

You have probably had the experience of an item breaking the week after the warranty runs out. But, look for a reclining sofa with a warranty, anyway. Look for a warranty that will cover manufacturers’ defects and defects in materials for at least 3 years.

Upholstery

Now that we have the structure chosen for the new recliner sofa, let’s start choosing the upholstery.

Color

The first thought that comes to mind is that you may want the sofa to “match” something else in the room. If this is the case, most decorators advise you to select something in a neutral color. This will make it easier to change your decorating style or color theme.

Fabric

Most families, these days, move toward durable, washable fabric such as microfiber. This fabric is resistant to punctures and doesn’t scratch. A reclining sofa with microfiber can be very comfortable. Printed upholstery fabrics vary in durability and thickness. In general, decorators suggest that you select a pattern that will not dominate the entire room. A small to medium print is preferred. Printed fabric also tends to hide small indiscretions that stain upholstery.

Leather

If you have allergies to either the environment or your pet, you may want to go with leather upholstery. There are many kinds of leather, with different levels of comfort available. Some leathers are so soft they scratch easily and look “used” rather quickly. Others are such thick leather that there is little flex or comfort offered. Do your research on different types of leather so that you will find one that is comfortable yet durable.

There are 8 types of leather used in upholstery. The top 3 picks are:

Full Grain Leather: The most expensive, it is the least processed leather. It will be stiff at first, but soften with use.

Top Grain Leather: Very similar to full grain, this leather is buffed, making it softer from the outset.

Split Grain Leather: When the top layer is removed from a hide to make top grain furniture, the lower section of the hide is used for split grain upholstery. It is harder to the touch and harder to maintain. Don’t confuse the texture with full grain leather.

Special Features

There are many different features available in sofa recliners. Some of them have flaps on the side which you pull out to activate the mechanism. Others have levers for the same purpose, or simply respond when you push back on the armrests. Still others have electric motors that recline the chair.

In keeping with the electronic theme, you can also find reclining sofas with built-in heating pads. Some models have laptop plugs and USB charging stations built in.

There are also the options that have storage built into the arms or center console. You can buy them with cup holders and remote caddies. Other sofa recliners have articulating headrests and offer your choices in reclining positions.

Cost

Reclining sofas vary in cost according to construction quality and fabric. Technically, a sofa has 3 seat cushions, while a loveseat has 2 cushions. Reclining sofas may be full-reclining, meaning that the middle seat is also a recliner, or it may be dual-reclining, meaning that only the two cushions on the ends are reclining seats. The two models on the ends will be operated with a flap-lever, a handle-lever, or a power switch, while the middle recliner will be operated by pushing on the back of the sofa. All of these features will affect the cost of the sofa.

Best Power Recliners

Power recliners are those that have buttons on the side rather than levers. They are operated by electricity. Power buttons will add about $200 to the cost of your recliner sofa.

Microfiber Upholstery

A microfiber full recliner sofa will cost between $1,300 and $1,500. These will be manual recliners with the inset flap-lever for operation. Some will have the handle-lever action. More intricate stitching will add to the expense of the sofa. For example, a sofa stitched with the details of an automotive bucket seat will add another $200 to $300 to the recliner sofa cost.

Leather-Look Upholstery - PU leather

You can upgrade to a leather-look recliner sofa for $200 to $300 more. However, while modern leather-look fabrics look and feel nice, they dry out and become stiff and cracked after a few years.

Leather Upholstery

It is uncommon to find an entire sofa upholstered in leather, since it is so expensive. Usually, you can find a leather recliner sofa that has leather seats, but vinyl has been used on the sides. This reduces the expense of the sofa. A sofa made with these materials will cost about $100 to $200 more.

Upscale models

Upscale models that are made with hardwood and metal mechanisms rather than plastic cost between $1,000 and $3,000 more.

General Cost

So, in general, the prices a leather/vinyl full-reclining sofa will range anywhere from $500 and a couple of thousand. For our top picks, we included the category rating of value for money, which means that our top-rated models are in the lower range of the price range.

If you want a durable piece with hardwood and metal, rather than particleboard and plastic, you will pay between $1,900 and $2,700 for a microfiber piece, and $2,800 to $4,100 for a leather, fully automatic recliner sofa.

Your quest for a good reclining sofa is fraught with peril. Don’t settle for the pretty, “real wood” model on the showroom floor.

FAQs about the top picks:

About the best reclining sofa

How far does it recline?

It’s not full-reclining, it goes back to about 7-10 % incline.

Assembly and size on arrival

It arrives in a big box including all the pieces needed for assembly: The couch base (about 24 “ wide), backs of the chairs (three of them for the classic size), and the two sides. So, there should be no problem getting it through the width of average doors (30-33 wide doorways and up)

What if I have a narrower doorway?

If your doorway is especially narrow (like 28”), it can still pass. Some of the screws do stick out and you might have to remove those to fit it through.

Is it easy to assemble?

It shouldn’t take more than 15-20 minutes to assemble – you just slide the parts as described in the instructions.

Is it any good for tall and heavy people?

The leather is PU, so it’s heavy duty and more durable and resistant to damage and scratches. The loft and the density of the foam is solid enough to be comfortable for a people on the heavier side. However, the frame is not sturdy enough for and we’ve seen reports from heavy people that it gives in fast under weights over 300 lbs.

You can see our pick of the best recliner for heavy people here.

For tall people – we measured the dimensions between the bottom of the seat to the top of the head cushion and it’s about 28 “. The headrest cushions are broad enough to be comfortable for people of different heights, including tall.

If in doubt, measure the distance between the bottom of the seat to the to of the head rest of the couch/sofa chair you have and compare that to the 28 inches we mentioned for this sofa.

Is PU leather real?

No – PU leather is faux. It’s made from splits of the hide and then finish with polyurethane to make it more durable. It performs very well in water-resistance and fading tests. The main advantage of the PU is that any accidents and spills are easier to clean.

And of course, there is the fact that PU items are much cheaper.

How does PU look?

If made well, PU passes the look test…we dare to say that even professionals working with leather can’t tell the difference without examining it closely. Is the inclination of the loveseat the same as the chair?

Yes, the inclination of all the items is the same as it comes close to a full flat position, which makes it good to sleep on.

Does the loveseat come with ports for USB?

No, there’s no port to be used for plugging in a USB.

What is I have a cat, how does the PU hold against the claws?

PU is a durable material, more so than real leather. But with cats that are aggressive to furniture you are likely to see some scratch marks. It’s very unlikely that your pet can do any significant damage, but as far as the scratches go – yes, you might see some marks with prolonged use.

If that’s your main concern, click here to read our top picks among cat-proof couches and sofas - https://thesleepstudies.com/cat-proof-couch/

How far should I place it from the wall?

The manufacturer recommends about 12 inches of clearance between the unit and the wall. The clearance is needed so that you can comfortably use the inclination angles without damaging the walls or the sofa.

Manual vs. power?

Based on what we’ve seen, it’s the experience of most owners that the manual levers are very easy to use and most of them don’t think that the power option justifies the extra cost.

Final thoughts

It did take more than we expected to complete this guide, but now that we have it, we believe it's the most complete source of information to help you choose the best reclining sofa for your money as well as the top options for heavy people and those with back pain issues.

The last point we'd like to make is that we update our picks quarterly or bi-monthly, depending on whether we see any significant signals or red lights about changes in quality of the products.

We do it to make sure that what you're reading stays relevant.

The Sleep Studies Team

Best reclining sofa and best recliners for back pain and heavy people – based on 1300+ user experiences is courtesy of https://www.thesleepstudies.com/