#anyhow this was fun and like.. more relaxed than my other stuff so! a good time

[god-of-this-new-blog]

“Well,” Light whispered conspiratorially. “You’re my best friend.”

Amnesia Haze by @lightyaoigami (Praise_Lilith)

#real tags first boringgg #death note #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #hehe art for you Lightyaoigami #This fic is so cute and blowback/shotgunning is always hot #my fave lawlight trope is the ‘ur my best friend oops we are making out now.’ #I could not find reference I was happy with for so LONG that I nearly used a picture of me and a friend but thankfully #it did not come to that #that hand pic tho is reffed from me lol #anyhow this was fun and like.. more relaxed than my other stuff so! a good time

[thestarrynightslover]

It’s a Good Day to Have a Bad Date

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,383

Warnings: Slight mentions of an OC with criminal priors, violent tendencies, and a juvenile record. A teeny-tiny bit of angst.

Summary: The reader meets Jay as she's trying to find out stuff about the guy she's about to go out with and ends up switching dates.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Just to make one thing clear: I did some research on Illinois's laws  (not sure I got it right tho) and, apparently, this fic is very inaccurate. But I really wanted to pursue the idea, so just humor me, please 🙏🏻. Anyways, I had a lot of fun while writing this and thought about making a part two... But I'm not sure. Tell me what you think! 💗

| masterlist |

You inhaled deeply one more time before you walked into the police district. There wasn’t even a real reason for you to be so nervous about it. You weren’t a victim and you weren’t a criminal. So, what’s the worst that could happen? 

The worst that could happen was, of course, you getting a bunch of cops mad at you because you went to waste their time with some pathetic whining. It was decided, you were gonna turn back around right now, while you still had time, and just go home.

On second thought, though, it was a matter of public safety. Your safety. Which was just as valid because you were just as much of a U.S. citizen as anyone else. So you went in. 

Shit. The place was almost empty, which meant everyone would notice if you left. And they’d ask questions, so you figured you’d, at least, get ahead of them, as you walked shyly towards the front desk. There, you were met by an older woman who looked bored, and still, terrifying.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked you, while cautiously checking you out. Oh my God, she thought you could be a victim! You were such an idiot.

“Um, it’s, um, it’s actually nothing, really. I shouldn’t even have come here in the first place.” You told her while smiling a little. What you didn’t know was that what you said had only raised more flags in the sergeant’s mind, even catching the attention of a tall man writing some things down on a paper at the corner of the counter. The young detective stayed back because he knew that Platt would know how to manage the situation, but continued listening to every word of the conversation.

The sergeant, then, took her glasses off, setting them on the counter. “Listen, miss, my name is Trudy Platt and the reason why I became a cop was that I wanted to help people, in every way that I possibly could. So, if you need my help with anything, just tell me what it is. And, I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.” She assured you and, as much as you felt this huge sympathy for the woman, you also felt even worse about making her waste her time. So you tried to fix things.

“Oh, my God! I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m not a victim in any way, thank God. I said that I shouldn’t have come here because I’m not even sure if what I wanted to ask is legal…” You told her with a nervous laugh. Hearing that, the Sergeant’s eyes sparked with curiosity.

“Well, then I probably won’t be able to help you.” She told you, stressing the ‘probably’ and making the man at the end of the counter shamelessly turn his face in your direction in order to better hear your conversation. “But… Since you’re already here, and it’s been such a slow day for the District, maybe you should just ask me whatever you want to and I’ll be the judge of whether that’s legal or not. After all, unless you’re some sort of lawyer, I should know more about the law than the average civilian.” The Sergeant skilfully baited you.

“Um, no, I’m not a lawyer.” You confirmed with a small laugh while tugging some of your hair behind your ear. “Actually, since I’ve just recently moved here to Chicago ⎼ to Illinois, really ⎼, I’m probably a lot below your average civilian.” You stated with a giggle. At that, the guy that had lost his discretion about eavesdropping started chuckling a little himself, to which the older woman responded with a look you’d absolutely hate having directed to you.

“So, Chuckles, you have nothing better to do than to stay here listening to other people’s conversations?”

“First of all, it’s detective,” he started in a mocked smug tone, “and, second: no, uh, I actually don’t. I came to fill this paperwork down here exactly because we were about to kill each other upstairs, just to get out of the boredom.” He added, raising some paper files he had in-hand. “Besides, you know how much I, too, love to help people.” He said while shooting you a charming smile. Okay, that guy was pretty handsome. “Jay Halstead, nice to meet you.” The detective informed you, holding out his hand.

“Right, um, nice to meet you too, sir.” You replied, shaking his hand. “I didn’t even say my name, what a clums!” You joked while patting yourself on the forehead. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“Okay, just, please, lose the ‘sir’ with that one, otherwise, he’ll never let it go.” Trudy chipped back in the conversation.

“So, what was it that you wanted to ask the sarge? I can assure you that we’ll let you know if it’s illegal. After all, two judges are better than one.” He suggested, all smiles.

“Since when?” The sergeant practically barked at the younger man, just to add: “You know what? You wanna be here at my front desk, Halstead? Then be here, but be quiet and let the lady talk.” She bluntly ordered him, who decided to do as he was told.

“Alright, um, it’s just that this guy who I don’t really know anything about asked me out and I said yes, even though I got a bad vibe from him?” They just stared at you with their jaws dropped, so you added: “Pathetic, I know. But I didn’t really wanna judge him without any proof, or anything like that, so I figured that, maybe, I could try and check if he has any criminal priors or something.” You finished with a tiny embarrassed smile.

“And why on Earth would you think that we could give you this type of information?” The sergeant asked you, her expression being one of pure shock.

“I, uh…” You didn’t really want to embarrass yourself even more but felt the urge to explain anyways. “It’s just that I’m a small-town girl, okay? And, over there, everybody knew my family, so, whenever I wanted to go out with someone, my dad would just ask his buddies at the Sheriff’s office to look the guy over. And he always told me that that was really important, so, when I moved to the state’s capital, I just wouldn’t go out with anyone unless a close friend vouched for him. Because I was terrified of what I’d see and hear on the news. But here… I don’t really know anyone yet.” You blurted it all out, to two strangers! To two cops who probably had something, or somethings, better to do than to listen to your whining. “Anyhow, I’m really sorry that I wasted your time, guys. Won’t happen again.” At that, they exchanged a look, and the sergeant said:

“You know what? You’re right, kid. The world is a dangerous place. And, unfortunately, it is even more dangerous for us women. So I’m gonna look the guy up. But I’m not gonna tell you exactly what it says if something comes up.” She told you, much for your surprise, and, then, turned to the detective, saying: “If you say a single word about this to anyone, and I mean anyone, Chuckles, I swear to God that I’ll cut your tongue out myself.”

“Geez, sarge. How can you swear such an ugly thing like that to God?” He asked her, in a mockery tone, while making a hilarious expression.

“Ha! Keep that up and your tongue won’t be the only thing I’m gonna cut.” She threatened him again and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter when he made a shocked expression and put his hands protectively over his crotch.

“For your information, I wanna help the girl just as much as you, so I wouldn’t say anything. You didn’t have to threaten me.” He tried to recover, as you handed her a small piece of paper with your possible date’s name.

“Oh, I know. But I wasn’t about to miss out on the opportunity.” She shot back at him while typing the name on the District’s computer. “Okay, here it is... Wow."

"What? What is it?" You asked her, as you watched the detective perk himself over the counter to look at the screen.

"Jesus. This guy's got himself quite a rap sheet." He commented, making you shiver, thinking of what could happen to you, if you went on with the date.

"What exactly do you mean by that, detective?" You asked the man who probably noticed your discomfort, because he spoke again, in a tranquilizing tone:

"No, relax. It's nothing too bad, like violent or anything. But there's some pretty nasty stuff here." He told you, not really making you relax.

"There's something here, though." That caught the detective's eye again. "His juvenile record is sealed, the only thing I can see without a warrant is an observation from his caseworker. She says something about him having violent tendencies." She told you with a sigh, taking her glasses off again. "Look, I know that I can't tell what to do and what to not do, (y/n), but, as a suggestion? Stay the hell away from this piece of work. You seem like a nice enough girl, I'd hate to see you come in here as a victim someday."

“Oh, God, no! I heard you loud and clear, sergeant! Don’t worry about it, I’m canceling that date ASAP!” You exclaimed, agreeing with her.

“That’s great!” The detective spoke this time, sounding a little too happy about the fact that you were about to cancel a date with a man who had criminal priors and violent tendencies. So both you and the other woman stared at him. “Err, I mean because you’re not gonna go out with him.” You just giggled a little at the way he was digging an even deeper hole for himself. “Because he’s a bad guy.” He added, once again getting a glare from Trudy. “You know what I mean.” He finished, defeated, not looking in your eyes.

“Well, uh,” you started, trying to keep yourself from laughing too hard, “anyways, I can only thank you both. You guys got me out of something that could be really unpleasant, to say the least.” You told them, a bit more serious this time.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just glad we could help.” Detective Halstead said, smiling kindly at you.

“Yeah. This time, I actually agree with you, Halstead.” The sergeant half-joked.

“Aw, that’s very kind, but, really, thank you!” You restated your gratitude, then asking: “I should probably get going now, right? Stop wasting your time?”

“It’s not like we were doing much before you got here-” Trudy began saying, but was interrupted by the detective, who quickly told you:

“Yeah, you should go. You know, cause a police District…” You knew he was right, but those two seemed like really nice people, especially after having helped you dodge a bullet, so to speak, and you’d hoped that you were finally making some friends in the Windy-City. “Anyways, um, lemme walk you out.” He offered you while motioning to the door. At that, you and the sergeant shared a look that told you she also found it weird that the detective would wanna walk with you through such a minimal distance.

“Uh, um, o- okay.” As you and Halstead walked towards the exit, you couldn’t help but notice what nice features he had. Like, your mind just kept going back to what a good-looking man he was.

“So…” He trailed off.

“So…” You answered, not really sure about what to say.

“You know, um, it’s gotta be a hell of a bummer for you. Being here in Chicago without knowing many people. This city… It’s all about finding your community.” He told you in a sympathetic tone.

“Hum…” You breathed out as you thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, well, I guess that I can only hope I’ll have better luck at making acquaintances the next time I go out to explore it.”

“Right.” The detective agreed. “Uh, listen, I know that this may sound a little too forward, but, maybe, I could show you some of my favorite places, someday? I mean, only if you’re interested! Because I don’t want you to feel like-”

“Actually, I’d very much like that! If it isn’t going to be any trouble for you…” You cut him off excitedly.

“No! No trouble at all!” He quickly assured you. “Um, thi- this is my card.” He said, lifting up a small business card for you to see. “I’m gonna write my personal number on the back of it. Call, or text me when you have some time to go out. Or if you just want someone to talk…” The handsome man added with a smile. God, what a smile.

“Okay, um, thanks, dete-”

“No, please! Call me Jay.”

“Alright,” you acknowledged, a little nervous this time, “then, thank you, Jay. Just, be advised, I can be very talkative sometimes, which means you might regret giving me this.” You warned him with a sly smile while waving the card in front of his face.

“Huh.” Jay pretended to consider it for a moment. “Is it too weird if I say I have a feeling that I won’t regret it?” He then asked you with a cute shy smile.

“Well, it sure isn’t weirder than me saying that I really hope you don’t regret it.” You confessed to him with a wink.

“Hey, are you two gonna take that flirting elsewhere on your own, or do you need me to get you a room?” You heard Sergeant Platt call out, blushing immediately.

“I’m so sorry about that!” Jay told you, looking a little flushed himself. “You should probably go now.” He added with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I think you’re right..” You agreed, but, as you were turning around to leave, he grabbed your wrist lightly, saying:

“Just… Don’t forget to call.” Hearing that, you snickered a little.

“I have a feeling that I won’t.” You told him, almost repeating his previous words, which got some chuckles out of him.

Now you understood the nickname.

#jay halstead x reader #one chicago #chicago pd #cpd #jay halstead #flirty jay #trudy platt #fanfiction #fluff #fanfic #one shot #imagines #jay halstead x you #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd one shot #jay halstead x y/n #one chicago fanfiction #one chicago x reader #chicago pd fanfiction #one chicago imagine #jay halstead fanfiction

[restlessfandoming]

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 2) (chilumi fic)

[part 1] 

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

* * *

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 2)

“This is a surprise,” Childe said, “Madame President.” 

Lumine felt like she was sweating out an entire waterfall and experiencing winter in Snezhnaya simultaneously. “Ch-Childe,” she greeted, trying to remain calm. “What are you doing here?” 

The corner of his mouth was tweaked upwards in the faintest of smirks. “I should be asking you that. Me? This is somewhere I’m expected to be. You?” His smirk grew a little bigger. “Not so much.”

“I—” She took a breath in. “I am seeing what kind of places delinquents like you congregate. Seems like I was right,” she fibbed. She put on her President persona; hopefully that was enough to convince him. 

He tilted his head, blue eyes glimmering in amusement. “Tsk, tsk. I thought our student council president would be better at lying.” He eyed the fighter’s tape still on her hands. 

She quickly put her hands behind her back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Research is research.” 

There was silence as he just stared at her, his eyes calculating—something, she didn’t know what. 

“Well, I think I’ve seen enough. Looks like I’ll just have to report you to the school tomorrow,” she said quickly, turning to scurry away. 

“Outlander.”

Lumine froze. 

“Outlander,” Childe repeated. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

She heard his footsteps coming up behind her; she didn’t look at him as he circled her, observing her. 

“Same stature, same build,” he remarked. “Definitely explains the mask.”

He knows. He knows. Lumine felt her soul deflate out of her. 

Knowing Childe, this news would be all over the school within a matter of hours. Her spotless record was ruined. Her future was ruined. 

She bit the side of her cheek. Fine; no more pretending. “Yes, I’m The Outlander,” Lumine said lowly. She cast a glare at him. “What about it?”

Childe raised his brows, surprised at her admission. “What happened to, ‘Fighting isn’t fun.’?”

“It isn’t,” she sneered. “I do it because I have to.”

His eyes squinted in confusion. “Because you have to?”

“The money.” Her fists were clenched. “I need the money.” 

He blinked, staring at her in silence once more. 

Probably thinking of some way to torture me. What’s he going to do? Extort me for money? Blackmail me? 

It doesn’t matter. My life is over as of now. All because of Childe.

She readjusted her backpack, walking out the door. “Do what you want; I’m going home.”

He didn’t stop her. 

When the door shut behind her, Lumine ran as fast as she could, not even bothering to wait for the bus; she ran all the way home, trying her best to hold back her tears. 

Arriving home, she went straight to her room, ignoring Aether’s worried questioning, and laid face down on her bed. Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

The prospect that her future was going down the drain loomed over her shoulder like a thick, black cloud. On the other hand, her head felt like it was on fire: all the frustration and anger—at Childe for being there and finding her, and at herself for being so careless—bubbling over. 

She let out a quiet scream of frustration into her pillow, then sat up. She slipped off her hand wraps, taking a deep breath. 

No. She wasn’t going to let someone like Childe ruin everything she had worked for. 

She grabbed an energy drink from her bag, sat down at her desk, and continued studying through the night. 

Now isn’t the time to give up. 

* * *

It had been three days. Three days since Lumine had run into Childe at the arena. And yet, not a single person came to her asking questions, expelling her, arresting her. 

Did...did Childe really not tell anyone? Lumine wondered as she walked through the hallways. She had barely seen him at school these past few days—only brief glimpses of him in the crowded halls. He hadn’t even been stirring up trouble like he usually did. 

Maybe he’s still planning to do something with the information, Lumine reasoned. Or...maybe...he feels sympathy. 

Whatever it was, Lumine was glad nothing had happened. It seemed like her life was carrying on like normal. Maybe it had just been some crazy nightmare she dreamed up.

“Lumine!” a cheerful voice called. 

She turned, finding her friend, Xiangling skipping towards her, along with her other friend, Mona.

“Xiangling. Mona,” she greeted happily. 

“What’s wrong, Lumi?” Xiangling asked. “Your face was all scrunched up.”

The blonde offered a small smile. “Really? I guess I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Perhaps your duties as President are too strenuous,” Mona said. “I always find it relaxing to destress in a bath of honey and rose petals.” 

Xiangling’s eyes glittered. “Sounds yummy…” She shook her head. “Ah, forget that! We’re here to ask you to help us!” 

“Some inconsiderate brutes left their gym equipment in the stairwell, blocking the entrance to our club rooms,” Mona explained. 

Lumine sighed. “Let me take a look.” 

The three travelled across the courtyard, coming to a stop outside the club activities building where many clubs had their meeting rooms, including Xiangling’s cooking club and Mona’s astrology club. 

Blocking the stairwell was, indeed, a pile of heavy-looking punching bags. 

“Left by the boxing club, no doubt,” Lumine muttered. She turned to her friends. “No worries, I’ll get these out of your way, then have a talk with the boxing club about this.” 

“But they look really heavy…,” Xiangling said.

Mona raised her brows. “Will you be able to lift those on your own?” 

No different than lifting weights. Considering her fight training, the bags would be extremely easy for Lumine to move. However, of course, to everyone who didn’t know her intense training, she was of a small stature, the punching bags very obviously bigger than her. 

But it was her friends who needed help, and they wouldn’t be overly suspicious of her. 

“It’s fine,” Lumine reassured. “It’s just like...physics, right?” Judo, more like. “I just have to utilize my center of gravity versus its weight.” 

She grabbed the chain at the top of the bag, positioning it so it sat on her shoulder. Then, she swung her leg back, kicking the bottom while simultaneously pulling it, sending it flying over her shoulder, and out of the way. Just like a judo flip. She repeated it for the other bags until the staircase was cleared. 

“Wooow,” Xiangling sighed in awe. “You’re amazing, Lumi!”

“Very much so,” Mona agreed. 

Before Lumine could say it was no big deal, Xiangling leaned in a bit. 

“Say, isn’t that Childe, looking this way?” the cook whispered. 

The three glanced in the direction she was looking, and sure enough, the tall ginger was standing nearby, his blue eyes fixed on Lumine. 

Immediately, Lumine felt her fists clench. “Need something?” she gritted out. 

He blinked at her, then let out an amused chuckle, turning and walking away. Lumine glared daggers into his back until he was out of sight. 

“He’s so cool,” Xiangling said dreamily. “And so handsome.” 

Lumine rolled her eyes. Xiangling fawned over anyone remotely good-looking like they were food. She remembered a time when the cook looked at her like she was the best roast pig on the market. 

“He may have the looks,” Mona conceded, “but unfortunately, he doesn’t seem very interested in girls. He’s rejected every single confession he’s ever gotten—and that’s a lot.” The pigtailed witch put her hands on her hips. “Not very good karma in the stars for him, if you ask me.” 

Oh. Lumine almost laughed. Maybe he just didn’t tell anyone because he’s not interested?

Yes, that must be it. He was so uninterested, it would serve him no purpose to meddle in her life. 

Hopefully that means he stops causing me trouble wherever he goes. 

* * * 

Childe. 

Childe was in her manager’s office. 

Before any fight, Lumine had to report to the overseer of the arena, a man named Kaeya Alberich; he was in charge of paying her, and was the only person in the arena who knew her true identity. He had let her continue fighting because she was good at it—and he was in the business of putting on a good show. 

And now, Kaeya was talking to Childe. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” Lumine asked. 

Next to Kaeya, Childe gave her a smile like nothing was wrong. 

“Lumine! Perfect timing,” Kaeya said. “We have a proposition for you.”

“We?”

“Yes, me and Tartaglia here were discussing your future in this field,” Kaeya explained. 

Lumine’s face scrunched in confusion. “Tartaglia?” she echoed, looking at Childe, who innocently nodded. 

“Of course! Where are my manners? Lumine, this is Tartaglia; he’s a very prominent figure in our...community.” The older gentleman smiled. “And Tartaglia says he already knows who you are?” 

“We’re friends,” Childe supplied. 

“Friends?” Kaeya chuckled. “Lumine, you should have told me you knew Tartaglia.” 

“I don’t,” Lumine interjected. 

“We have a very odd way of joking,” the ginger said, winking at Lumine. 

Kaeya shrugged. “Anyhow, let’s get down to business.” He looked at Lumine. “How do you feel about Tartaglia being your new coach?”

Lumine choked on her spit. My...coach?!

“What...what does that mean?” she managed to get out. 

“Well, we both agreed that you seem like… a big fish in a small pond nowadays,” Alberich explained. 

“As your coach,” Childe said. “I can get you into different fighting arenas with my connections. More room for you to grow. And of course, more money.” 

“No,” Lumine said, almost instantaneously. Both men made a face. She continued, narrowing her eyes at Childe, “I don’t need your help.” Childe crossed his arms. 

Kaeya let out a nervous laugh. “Now, now, Lumine, this could be really good for you—”

“I’ll see you after the match for payment.” With that, Lumine rapidly left the room. 

Who the hell did Childe think he was? Barging into her life like this? 

She didn’t take handouts. If she wanted something, she’d get it, on her own. After her father left her family heartbroken and penniless, she learned that the hard way: she couldn’t rely on anyone else. 

During her match that night, she saw Childe sitting in one of the front rows, his eyes never leaving her. 

Damned creep, she thought as her fist slammed into her opponent, effectively winning the match. The crowd’s cheers swelled. See? I’m perfectly fine on my own. 

* * * 

“U-Uhm, Madame President?” Bennett called nervously. 

Lumine looked up from her laptop as she was typing in preparation for the student council meeting later. “Yes, Bennett?” 

“I, uhm, may have misplaced some of my reports for this week,” he admitted. 

Aether offered a smile. “That’s okay, Bennet,” Aether reassured. “We’ll go look for them.”

Lumine sighed and shook her head. “We have to turn them in tonight.” Knowing Bennett’s luck, the reports were probably at the bottom of the ocean somehow. “I’ll just rewrite them all later.”

Her twin looked at her, concerned. “Lumine, that’s a lot of work. Let me write them.”

Bennett tried to offer to rewrite them as well, but Lumine held her hand up. “I’m the President, it’s nothing to me. You two just worry about your other council duties, okay?” 

Bennett and Aether exchanged defeated looks—their President was stubborn, and once she had her mind set on something, there was no way of convincing her otherwise. 

Later, as the sun cast its sunset oranges through the windows of the empty school, Lumine still remained, hard at work typing away Bennett’s missing reports. 

Her head ached, but she still had a mountain of homework and student council paperwork to finish, not to mention preparing for work tonight. She let out a fit of coughs, before forcing herself to return to her work. 

“So I figure you’re some type of masochist,” Childe’s voice rang from the doorway. 

Lumine sighed, not having enough energy to be angry. “Do you need something?” she asked. 

“You know, you’ve practically worked yourself to death these past few days,” he said. “While I admire your resilience, it’s not healthy.” 

She stood, ready to throw him out of the room so she could go back to working in peace, but her head started swimming, the room becoming blurry around her, and she stumbled. Oh no—

Before she fell back, however, Childe was behind her, catching her. 

Within a second of his hands on her, she righted herself, shoving him away. “I don’t need your help,” she seethed. 

His expression was unreadable, his mouth in a tight line. “I see,” he said, robotically, before walking out of the room. 

Breathing heavily, she sat back in her chair, hand on her burning forehead. Shit…

* * * 

Just make it through the match. Just make it through the match. Lumine kept chanting to herself.

She was definitely coming down with something, her whole body rolling with heat, but she couldn’t afford to let it affect her—not when she had so many things that needed to get done. 

She wished Aether was with her, he would’ve made her feel better. But he was called in for work tonight at the grocery store, so she walked through the run-down streets alone. 

She was in a more dangerous part of town, but she and Aether had figured out certain routes to walk where they didn’t run into anyone else. 

Tonight, however, Lumine noticed a lone man coming towards her. She clenched her fist, ready to strike if needed. She got closer and closer to him, her muscles tensing with each step. 

She passed him, and nearly let out a sigh of relief. 

Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist from behind, twisting her arm against her back. 

Lumine cried out in shock, weakly trying to break out of his grasp. On any other night she could have easily taken him. Damn this sickness—!

She couldn’t stop him as his other hand inched closer to her jacket. She closed her eyes.

WHAM!

Lumine felt her arm get released, and she opened her eyes, turning around. 

The man who attacked her was on the ground, knocked out, and Childe stood over him, shaking out his hand after his powerful punch. 

“Childe?” she breathed out. Feeling lightheaded again, she found herself reaching out for him, unable to speak. 

Again, he caught her, but this time she didn’t force him away.

His hand was on her forehead, his other hand wrapped around her waist to support her. “You’re burning up,” he said. 

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Childe.” 

He softly chuckled. “It’s okay. Just rest now,” he murmured back. 

Nodding against his hand, she let herself relax, for the first time in forever. All her exhaustion came flooding in, and she quickly passed out in Childe’s arms. 

* * *

[part 3]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe #lumine #tartaglia #childe x lumine #lumine x childe #chilumi #lumichilde #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #me

[mypoisonedvine]

Ok ok ok😆 How about step dad lee has a “take your kid to work day” and has to bring the reader to work. There the reader can be wonderful distraction at the sharif’s office by hiding under lee’s desk *wink wink* or even being a distraction to the other officers making lee jealous. Maybe this could even progress to the reader getting a part time job as a secretary working at the sharif’s office where they have excuses for being together more!!

(warnings for semi-public sex, almost getting caught, sexual harassment (not by lee), some violence, oral sex)

"Uh, Lee, don't you think your stepdaughter is a little old for this?"

You nervously tugged at the hem of your dress, silently agreeing with the officer.

"My wife insisted," Lee shrugged.

Someone in the back of the room emulated the sound of a whip cracking, and the other officers laughed. One glare from the Sheriff at the offending men and they all straightened into silence. Was it weird that it turned you on to see him exert his power over them so casually?

"Have her help you with simple stuff, okay? She can type, which I can't say for half of you anyways. Treat her like a secretary for a day. Except, treat her better than you did the last secretary," Lee frowned. "I'll be in my office if you need me," he informed you in a softer voice. You nodded and watched him walk away, turning your gaze back to the room of men eyeing you. Some seemed not to care much that you were there, some seemed offended by your presence somehow, and some... some made you wish you'd worn slacks instead, with the way they were staring at your legs. She's adorable, one of them mumbled to his deskmate, apparently not as subtly as he thought. No wonder he keeps her locked up at home, another added.

"Um, I'm happy to help however I can," you offered with a smile.

"Here, let me show you how we fill out case reports," one of them offered, motioning for you to stand by his desk.

You started to get in the swing of things after that, commandeering an empty desk with a typewriter and using it to help some of the men finish up some their work. You actually sort of enjoyed it, although you thought all the dirt you were seeing on the residents of Knockemstiff was wasted on you since you didn't care to gossip-- your mother would've had a field day with the information you gathered.

Lee came out every hour or two to check on you, move papers around, regular business stuff. Things got a little stranger just before lunch, though.

"Whatcha workin' on now, sweetheart?" Officer Lupitski asked, his hand descending onto your shoulder and squeezing a little. You didn't like that he was touching you, but he leaned down to look at your work and effectively caged you in.

"Uh, just this open vandalism report... I think I know who did it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the witness said it was a short man, about 5'6", but she said he had on a blue cotton hoodie-- and that sounds like something Cynthia Fremont wears sometimes, and the height matches. Plus, the tag said CF, so..."

"Look at that, we made you a secretary when you oughta be a detective!" Lupitski laughed.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you smiled, your chest warming from the praise, "I'm just more familiar with the teenage girls of Knockemstiff than most of the officers are."

"Hm, you may not be as right about that as you'd like to be," he mumbled. "But anyhow, you don't feel bad about ratting out your fellow girls like this? I thought you were really into that feminism stuff."

"I don't know if feminism means letting somebody spray paint the library just cause they're a girl," you protested. "Where'd you hear that, anyways?"

"Your dad talks about you a lot," he explained.

"He's my stepdad," you corrected quickly, "so take it all with a grain of salt."

"No, no, he only says good things. Says you're a good girl, don't mess around with the law," he recalled, voice getting lower as his hand started to move to your back. "Sounds like he's right."

"Uh, I try to stay out of trouble, yes," you agreed hesitantly.

"But a little trouble is natural; I mean, a girl your age should be having all sorts of fun, that's the point of being young."

"I guess I find most of my fun within the confines of the law," you defended, trying to find a way to lean so that he wouldn't be so close to you but finding yourself trapped.

"Is it cause you're afraid of the Sheriff?"

You shook your head. "He doesn't scare me."

"Good for you," he praised, patting your knee and letting his hand rest there. "He doesn't scare me either," he purred, moving his hand a little higher, fingertips drifting under the hem of your dress as your breath hitched and your heart began to race. He was looking right at you with something sinister burning in his eyes, smiling with sharp but crooked teeth.

"Maybe he should," you suggested gently.

"Yeah?" he laughed, tilting his head and leaning in further. "Why's that?"

"'Cause I have a baton," Lee answered his question before hitting him swiftly in the face with it, which sent Lupitski tumbling back over your desk onto the floor. You giggled a little, and caught a few smirks from the fellow officers as well (though some others had that scared-straight look on their face).

"What the hell, man?!" Lupitski protested, spitting blood onto the floor.

"You tryna make your way to an early grave, Lupitski?" Lee challenged. "You've found a pretty speedy method, if that's the case."

"She's grown! She was into it!"

"Did you like gettin' felt up by this perv?" Lee asked you facetiously.

You shook your head, grinning when the officer on the floor looked back at you like you'd condemned him to death. Honestly, you might have.

"Get up," Lee rolled his eyes as he motioned for Lupitski to stand. As soon as he was up, though, Lee punched him and knocked him to the ground again.

"The fuck?! I thought you wanted me to stand!"

"Yeah, I did, but it was just so I could see you fall twice," Lee chuckled. "Clean up the blood and get back to work." Directing his attention to the rest of the room, he opened his arms in challenge. "Anybody else wanna take a spin, huh? Cop a feel, lose a tooth, it'll be fun!"

The men just looked around, shuffling their feet and clearing their throats nervously.

"...No takers? All right then," Lee nodded, turning to you, "you're spending the rest of the day in my office."

You stepped over the groaning form of Lupitski as you followed behind the Sheriff eagerly.

"Shut the door behind you," Lee instructed as he sat down at his desk. Once you'd done it, he patted his knee for you to sit on his lap. You felt a little nervous that someone would come in, but you were still excited to be in his arms again. He embraced you from behind, pulling your back into his chest. "I'm sorry about him," he sighed, "it's my fault, I should've known I couldn't trust them alone with you..."

"It's okay," you dismissed, "it wasn't that bad, he just put his hand on my leg."

"How high did he get?" he asked with concern in his voice. "Show me where he touched you, sweetpea."

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your knee, the comforting warmth making you relax a little. "Well, he started here," you explained, "but then he moved up... to here," you demonstrated, sliding his hand up until it reached where Lupitski's had.

"And then?"

"And then you hit him in the face, twice," you recalled with a shy smile.

"That's right," he beamed. You felt his hand moving higher from where you'd left it and you melted into his arms, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. "You know nobody can touch you there except your daddy."

You nodded, biting your lip as his fingers traced over the edge of your panties. Slipping inside, he growled a little when he felt that you were wet. "What's this, princess? Don't tell me you actually did like being touched by somebody else..."

"No, daddy, it's not that," you denied. "It was just... I thought it was really nice that you stood up for me..."

"Well, I don't care for it when other people touch my things."

"I know, daddy. And I couldn't help but think about what it would be like if-- if you had touched me in front of all those men, and showed them that I was yours..."

He grinned, finally rubbing your swollen clit as your back arched. "Mm, you're so shameless, baby. Is that what you wanted me to do? Beat him up and then bend you over the desk so I can beat up your cunt, too?"

You whimpered and nodded, hips bucking up into his touch.

"Dirty slut," he purred. "You know why I couldn't do that... but lucky for you, I have another desk right here that I can bend you over."

You giggled with delight as he pushed you up and over the wood, flipping up your skirt and pulling down your panties.

"Fuck," he groaned, "such a pretty little pussy you have, princess. And so wet for me, as always."

He didn't unbuckle his belt right away, instead leaning in to lick long stripes between your lips, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit and your hole-- wait, make that both your holes.

"Fuck, daddy," you gasped.

"Can you keep quiet, little girl? Or do I need to make you quiet?"

"I'll be good, daddy," you whispered.  It still took all your strength to keep that promise when he pushed his cock into you.  You gripped tightly at the edge of the desk, biting back moans every time the fat, swollen head of him plunged directly into your g-spot.

“You can’t imagine how many times I’ve been stuck at my desk and thought of doing exactly this to ya,” he chuckled lowly.  You wiggled your legs but he held you down, fucking you deeper and harder.  “Is this what you were hoping for, princess?  Is this what you want me to do to you in front of my men?”

You nodded with a whimper.

“You’d better hope nobody else steps out of line today, including you, or I might just be tempted to,” he threatened.  “I’d love for someone to give me an excuse to remind everyone that I’ve never been good at sharing my toys.”

After a few more minutes of pounding into you hard enough to rattle everything on his desk, you came with a choked moan and a sigh.  You were a little disappointed when he pulled out, because you wanted him to come inside you, but when he asked you to get under his desk and suck him off, well... you couldn’t say no to that.  Literally.

“Fuck, such a perfect little mouth,” he groaned.  “Wanna taste your daddy’s come, sweetpea?”

You nodded, without knocking his length out of your mouth, thankfully.  You always loved when you could taste yourself on him, as filthy as it made you feel.

“Then you’re gonna have to work for it.”

You were using your lips and tongue to suckle his tip while your hands worked tirelessly to pump the rest of him-- yes, you needed both hands-- when there was a knock at the door.

“Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he hissed at you before calling for the person to come in.

“Uh, I have these accounting sheets for you,” an officer explained, and you heard something set down on the desk above your head.  You looked up at Lee and watched his face as you kept going, though you were trying not to slurp or choke or make any other noises.  

“Thanks,” Lee nodded.

“Hey, wasn’t your daughter in here?”

“Stepdaughter,” Lee corrected quickly, just as you thought the same thing as the same time.  “And yes, but she’s using my private bathroom at the moment.”

“Oh, okay,” he agreed, although he sounded a little suspicious.  “I’ll leave you be.”

As soon as the door shut, you popped off of Lee’s cock and looked up at him nervously.  “Do you think he knew?” you asked.

“Did I say you could stop?” he countered; you got back to work quickly, not wanting to anger him lest he make good on his threat to fuck you in front of the station.  “I’m close,” he warned you.

You kept working until you felt him pulse and flex and, finally, come all over your tongue.  His hands tightened on your hair as he filled your mouth, the salty taste and the pressure on your throat making your eyes water.  He pulled you off of him with an exhausted groan.  

“Show me,” he requested, and you opened your mouth dutifully as his come pooled on your tongue.  “Good girl,” he smiled, “you can swallow now.”

You did, and licked up the small drop that had almost spilled from the corner of your mouth as well.  

“I think you should come with me to work more often, princess,” he grinned.

“I could use the typing practice,” you pondered aloud.  

“Oh, honey,” he chuckled, “you’re not gonna get in any typin’ practice, I promise you that.

#lee bodecker x reader #twi!lee #lee bodecker smut #i really hope that people know the whip sound effect thing is a way to call a guy whipped #kind of an obscure thing #also i wrote this at an airport #someone probably saw #oops

[piduai]

Interview with Noda Satoru from the Golden Kamuy fanbook

sharing anywhere is fine, but please credit me.

Q: Tell me how you feel about passing 6 years of serialization. Noda: I was already serializing at the time of my debut, so I guess I’d be able to give a summary when I’m finished. I don’t really think about how many years it’s been, it’s merely a checkpoint.

Q: What made you decide to become a mangaka? Noda: I feel like I wrote it down as my goal in my yearbook back in middle school. I also wanted to become a movie director, but as a mangaka you can create the entire thing by yourself. 

When Golden Kamuy just took off I was living in a tiny apartment and the postman, a young fellow and a reader of Young Jump, realized that I’m Noda Satoru. The magazine was sending me a lot of things, so it was rather obvious. “Are you the author of Golden Kamuy?”, he asked in a surprised tone while looking around the cramped entryway. I could feel feel his confusion regarding the fact that that vast Hokkaido world of the manga was being created in this modest apartment. Or maybe he just expected me to be making more money and afford a better place. Anyhow, I just thought again about how a manga can be created in even the smallest room in the universe.

Q: Who is your favorite character and why? Noda: As always, it’s Tanigaki. But well, I love all of them. I want to showcase only the best parts of them, and it hurts when I fail. For example I’m very happy that there’s a character who stirs the pot as well as Usami. He’d be Katsuo in the world of Sazae-san.  

Q: Which characters are the easiest to draw, and which ones are the most difficult? Noda: Characters like Shiraishi, Tsukishima and Nagakura, they don’t have a lot of hair and even if they turn out a little ugly their faces are well-defined so it’s easy to draw. In general faces that are strongly distorted and resemble caricatures are easy. Meanwhile Asirpa, Kiroranke and Inkarmat have neat facial structures on top of wearing Ainu clothing, so they are a very high-calorie effort for me. Ogata and Kikuta are difficult too. Their faces are distinctive and I have to make them look cool too, which is wearing me out the most.

Q: Have you decided on all 24 convicts at the very start of the story? Noda: Wouldn’t I sound like a badass if I said that that I have? Anyway. There were the ones that were based off real-life Meiji era criminals, such as Shiraishi, Kumagishi Chouan or the lightning couple, and of course there was Hijikata.

Q: Tell me of a funny thing from the manga that you are fond of. Noda: Gansoku’s “Hah! ☆”. And also when Koito Jr. Was flapping his arms and legs around trying to keep himself in mid-air.

Q: Why did you decide on Otaru as the starting point? Noda: I am from Hokkaido, so I’m familiar with Otaru and Sapporo. Otaru is close to both the mountains and the sea. Sapporo used to be a swampland, it’s wide and flat and there is no sea. Otaru is a place where foreigners come and go, there are many criminals roaming around creating danger, and money is found. There aren’t many big cities in Hokkaido. There were Ainu living in Otaru but sources are scarce, however Nakagawa-sensei, the supervisor over the Ainu language, told me not to worry too much about the difference of location, so I figured it would be best to make it Otaru.

Q: Was there any real life experience you had while growing up in Hokkaido that you turned into a scenario? Noda: When I was about 19 someone I knew told me that there is a locust graveyard on a nearby mountain, which sounded so ridiculous I had to laugh in their face. Turns out it indeed was a heap of locusts and their eggs left after a locust plague, that place was the Teineyamaguchi locust mound (a real historical site). I realized I ended up using this in my story. I owe that person an apology.

Q: Was there any scene that was particularly difficult to draw? Could you elaborate on it? Noda: The time Sugimoto went against Nihei and Tanigaki. It gave me a very hard time. Who goes where and does what, how does Nihei carry Asirpa, stuff like this. I had no time to waste either, I just remember that sequence overall driving me insane. 

There was also the sequence with Wilk, Sofia and Kiroranke being at Hasegawa’s photo studio. It’s really frustrating to draw something that you know will bore the readers, the story flow becomes less exciting too. I was praying for everyone to have a little more patience and keep reading, because the twist was so good.

Q: If you were to take part in the gold hunt, which group would you like to belong to? Noda: It seems that Hijikata’s group doesn’t have funding problems, and because Kadokura is there the atmosphere is relaxed too. I’d go there.

Q: If you were to find all that gold, how would you use it? Noda: No idea. Had a couple when I was younger, though.

Q: Were you planning to eventually transfer the action to Sakhalin from the very beginning of the series? Noda: Asirpa and Kiroranke have roots there, so I anticipated that the story will eventually move to Sakhalin. I also expected to have to travel to Amur river myself, but couldn’t go after all, only went as far as Khabarovsk. 

I was thinking of making Sugimoto eat permafrost mammoth. There was talk of a research team or an ivory excavation team’s dog eating mammoth. However there was no reason to make Sugimoto and Co go as up north as needed for permafrost, so I scrapped the idea.

Q: Tell me something about the hardships you experienced while doing research is Sakhalin. Noda: It was tough, but fun. I was only able to understand the clear differences between Nivkh and Orok people by going there; I couldn't by only looking at records and materials while in Japan. 

Complete unrelated, but I was surprised by how many stray dogs wander around there. One time my cameraman and I ended up being chased by one while looking for a factory and we had to run for it. The beast was big, about the size of a German Shepherd. The guide also warned us about junkies, it was really scary.

I also went to the Japanese military pillbox over 50th parallel north and prayed at a cenotaph deep in the mountains. I met a group of Japanese people in the hotel by the place where it's said you can still find remains of Japanese soldiers and their driver, a Russian, seemed to help with collection of the remains on the regular. He said that he's doing it out of reverence, even as a former enemy. As a Japanese, I felt gratitude. The 7th Division are villains in my story, but I don't have any personal bias against either side.

Q: What were the biggest differences between drawing Hokkaido and Sakhalin? Noda: Well... it's Russia. Even though Sakhalin is so close, it's already Europe. The structure of houses is strikingly different. There's also the differences between Hokkaido Ainu and Sakhalin Ainu, and differences between Orok and Nivkh people. There is no manga that will conveniently lay the differences of those down for you. 

It seems that the Orok and Nivkh's relation with Japan only got more difficult by the beginning of Showa era, there is only one person in the whole of Japan who can supervise on the Orok language. The professors in cultural studies I consult for Golden Kamuy are truly top-level; not only are they tremendously knowledgeable, they also understand how important to me is to stay impartial.

The wildlife, as well. There's a biogeographical boundary between Hokkaido and Sakhalin, observing animals I would never be able to see in Hokkaido was riveting. 

Q: Did Sugimoto really have a hidden plan during the whole stenka business? Noda: No idea. Even if he used it as a pretext to get everyone involved, though... cut him some slack. He's only a man. Sometimes he just wants to fight and win. Not for Ume-chan or Asirpa-san, just for the sake of proving to himself that he's strong.

Q: Your art is dynamic and detailed. I think your style changed quite a bit with time, though. How would you describe yourself as an artist? Noda: I want to preface this by saying that in no way do I think of myself as more skilled than other mangaka, but if you're drawing everyday for more than 10 hours you're going to improve a lot eventually, whether you want it or not. People who are able to keep the same style for years without change are the ones who are impressive, because it means that they achieved the peak of their potential. Ageing and health problems influence your art a lot, you know. I try to draw by observing. I use a lot of references. Drawing by memory alone is not a good thing.

Speaking of other artists, I once had one of the assistants I had working for me for years draw me a door knob from memory, and the result was a truncated cone resembling pre-packaged pudding. The actual shape of a door knob has an intricately angular circular shape. It's the result of being unobservant in everyday life. Good art requires constant observation.

Q: What was the foundation for your style? Is there an artist you were influenced or inspired by? Noda: Araki Hirohiko-sensei, for sure. During my time as an assistant, many authors told me to not even try to be original when it comes to battle abilities, it's already been done in JoJo, it has it all. He's kind of the Beatles of this industry, isn't he? 

By the way, I usually have no intention of parodying JoJo in Golden Kamuy, but my friends will tell me that they identified this or that reference from time to time. I read Part 1 about 30 years ago but I was obsessed, so maybe some things were just left in my subconscious. I only did one obvious parody, during the stenka fight. Funnily enough that trope started in Fist of the North Star, though, not JoJo.

Q: What's one thing that gives you the most motivation to write? Noda: Fan letters. I know how straining it is to write long and neat sentences by hand, and am thankful for them. I'm happy that people go that far to share their thoughts about my work with me. I'm really grateful to the people who keep reading and supporting Golden Kamuy.

Q: Did you have an interest in Ainu culture before starting the series? Noda: I did not. I'll be glad if my work makes people interested in the Ainu. Prejudice is born out of ignorance, so if you want to learn about the Ainu, don't limit yourself to Hokkaido only; there are museums all around Japan, and they have knowledgeable curators. It's important to remember to take into account the time period and the occupation of the person on which the research materials are based when you're trying to learn about the subject.

Q: You showed us a lot of aspects of life during Meiji and Taisho eras. Tell us about what surprised or impressed you in the process of research. Noda: It's not that I was particularly knowledgeable, so having to check every single thing was quite exhausting. The Ainu, the military, katanas - all of these needed research on my part. 

There are more regulations and rules set for things out there than one could assume, and mangaka who base their works on real life need to be especially careful about this. You have to take into account things like the size of the buttons on a military uniform, how a tea cup is held, and and how different people talk in different ways. For movies there's staff working on costumes and props, there's the cast, there are screenwriters, but in a manga you are the one responsible for every single detail. I wish I had a time machine and travel back to those eras. There are things I couldn't get right here and there that I keep having regrets about.

Q: Golden Kamuy was the main visual in the British Museum manga exhibition between May and August in 2019. I know you went there in person. How was it? Noda: The trip felt like a reward for all of my efforts. The exhibition is jam-packed by opening time, but I got special treatment and they let me inside early in the morning so I could walk around the vast British Museum in solitude. I also travelled between Jack the Ripper's crime scenes at night by taxi.

The driver in a taxi I caught by chance was wonderful, she looked up photos of the crime scenes and surroundings taken at the time of investigation on her smartphone and showed them to me one by one, saying things like "the third victim was found here!". 

I've always had a soft spot for Jack the Ripper, back in middle school I even wrote a screenplay for a school festival stage and played him in it myself. It was done in very poor taste, like that one scene in the Addams Family movie where there are arms blown away and fountains of blood gushing out. The audience loved it. 

Q: Please leave a message for the readers. Or maybe some advice for the troubled youth. Noda: I want people to say that everyone in Golden Kamuy had a satisfying ending, and I want that for everyone involved more than anything. As for advice for the troubled youth, there's none. Life is survival of the fittest. The weak ones get eaten.

#golden kamuy #noda satoru #translation #i feel burnt out

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 20

Word Count: 3,745

POV: Sid’s

Warngings: Language, Smut, NSFW but also kind of fluffy

Notes: It’s late, so no one will probably read this...haha But I’m putting it out there anyhow, because I need to hold myself accountable and I said I would post it after the Stars game. (Sidenote: I’m still upset about that loss) Anyhow, this is basically all smut. I was just in that kind of mood with Sid this week what can I say. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading!

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

Paris was everything you'd ever dreamed it would be and so much more now that you'd finally told (Y/N) that you loved her. Being there with her was like living out a fantasy vacation. The two of you spent the day soaking in the French culture. Holding hands as you went from exhibit to exhibit in the Louvre was everything, as (Y/N) shared your love of history. You weren't sure who was pulling who, into the next room to see each display. One of the most magical moments had to be when you were standing atop the Eiffel Tower, holding her in your arms and kissing her senseless. Though the one that stood out the most to you was standing inside Notre Dame Cathedral. Maybe it was the lighting at the moment, or the beautiful white summer sundress (Y/N) had on but you were overwhelmed with thoughts of her walking down the aisle towards you. Never in your life had you thought about marriage like you did right at that moment. You could picture her in this beautiful gown carrying a bouquet of roses as she stood amongst all your family and friends. Suddenly, you wanted to make this dream a reality, but you'd only declared your love for her a few short days ago. This was going from point A to Z in like sixty-second flat, but if there was one thing that you knew, it was how to work hard and see things come to fruition, and that started by making sure this was the best vacation that (Y/N) ever had.

 The time in France had been jammed packed, for it seemed you two were always on the go. Though you did enjoy the long nights at the hotel where you spent making love to (Y/N) every and any chance you could get. She'd even been adventurous enough to have sex out on the balcony one night. It wasn't something that you'd normally do, but there was just something about this woman that had you wanting her anywhere and everywhere. Which neither one of you seemed to mind.

 Thankfully, you'd booked a resort in the quiet town of Estepona, Spain, instead of Ibiza or Barcelona like you'd originally planned. The beaches were beautiful there and you enjoyed seeing (Y/N) just lounging on the chaise in her bikini. "Want to hit the water?" You asked her after closing the book you'd been reading for the last hour.

 "Sure," she agreed and you both headed into the warm ocean. The waves caught you both up, as you frolicked in the sand and surf, both of you giggling. Every now and then a wave would crash along the shore almost knocking you both to the ground until you were finally able to drift beyond their breaking point. "This place is truly amazing Sid," (Y/N) told you as you swam closer to her, so you could loop your arms around her.

 "You're amazing," you said nibbling on her ear which was only slightly salty from the water.

 "Stop, you're making me blush."

 "I like it when you do." Your hands roamed down her back to her ass, where you slid your fingers underneath her bikini bottoms before kissing her soundly on the lips.

 "What are you doing?" She giggled as you attempted to pull those same bottoms to the side.

 "I can't help it, you look so fucking sexy in this suit. I just have to…" you followed your words up by pressing a finger between her folds.

 "Sid," she half moaned, half chided you. "Someone might see."

 "Babe, look around. This beach is pretty private, for one thing, and for another, there are a couple women running around half nude." Europeans were much more liberal when it came to their sexuality then both Americans and Canadians, and you were one who wouldn't mind (Y/N) running around topless. Well, you might if you weren't by her side. "No one is going to pay any attention to us."

 "But what if you're recognized or something?" You'd been lucky so far and only had a couple people come up to you in France and ask for autographs, hopefully, that streak would continue over the next week.

 "No one even knows that I'm doing anything to you. Unless you decide to scream out my name. Which I'm not opposed to." (Y/N) shook her head at you, so to emphasize your point; you slid your finger deep inside her. She bit her lip to suppress the moan she so wanted to release. You continued to toy with her until she snuck her hand in your swim trunks and started to stroke your cock. "Oh, I see how it is."

 "What? Two can play this game, Mr. Crosby." It was deliciously naughty to be doing this out in public with (Y/N).

 "Mr. Crosby is it? I don't think that's what you called me last night." Her palm slid down your length then back up, twisting as she went and you had to grit your teeth together from the pleasurable sensations she was creating.

 "Mmm, no I don't think it was." She pressed her cheek to yours, as she sucked on your earlobe. "Would you prefer Captain, or maybe Daddy, or…" She didn't finish that sentence as your thumb pressed down on her clit. Her head sank down to the crook of your neck and you thought she was going to bite you as she held back a groan. Your fingers worked faster and so did her hand, and soon she wasn't the only one stifling her moans. You were almost regretting this decision to have a little fun with her in the ocean, but then she was cuming and you were too and as your hips thrust into her hand you knew this would be one vacation memory neither of you would ever forget. "Fuck baby, that felt so good."

 "More refreshing than the ocean?" She said with a little wink.

 "Definitely," you kissed her then, pouring all the love you had for her into it. (Y/N) was truly one of a kind and you thanked your lucky stars, and the Fleury's, for bringing her into your life. She was exactly what you needed.

 Over the next couple of days, you spent time at the beach as well as in Estepona. You took (Y/N) on a romantic carriage ride through the city streets one night, then ended up back at the hotel where you made love for hours. It was the following day that you noticed her stretching her neck more. "Babe, what's going on?"

 "My neck's a little sore is all. I don't think it liked that one position you put me in last night," she said teasingly.

 "Here let me massage it for you."

 "Wait let me write this down because you never offer massages. It's always me giving them to you."

 "That's because you're really good at them." You gave her a little wink then let your fingers rub her shoulder. "You're really knotted up."

 "Yeah, but it'll work itself out eventually." She sighed contently as you worked on her muscles.

 "We should get one of those couple's massages." You told her, thinking that it would be a nice way for both of you to relax. "I saw them mentioned in the brochure."

 "You'd really be into that?" (Y/N) asked.

 "I mean ya, if it means I get to lay next to you half-naked; I'm always in."

 (Y/N) laughed before reminding you, "you know there's no 'happy ending' during these things. Well, that is unless it's different over here."

 "The only happy ending I want is with your babe." You told her as you let your arms slide around her waist. "So what do you say? Should I book it?"

 "I think you're trying to get out of giving me a massage once again, but I'm game. Make the call." You dropped a kiss to her neck before heading over and grabbing the phone. (Y/N) scooted into the bedroom to change into her swimsuit as the two of you had planned on going to the beach. After a call to the spa, they told you they would have everything set up in your room in an hour. You'd ask to have it there for privacy's sake and they were more than happy to accommodate you. "Babe, we've got an hour, then we've got to be back."

 "Wow, you work fast," she said as she sauntered back into the living room area clad in a white bikini that had you rethinking going to the beach as well as getting those massages.

 You grabbed at her waist and pulled her in close. "I'd rather work on you."

 "Slow down there hot stuff. You are not getting me all….sexed up and then having someone else rubbing their hands all over me in an hour. Maybe after that hour."

 "Sexed up?" You cocked your head in inquiry.

 "You know what I mean." Her arms wrapped around your neck then. "You did it in the ocean the other day. We are PG until after these massages." She kissed you quickly, then slipped out of your arms before you knew what was happening. "Now are we going to the beach?" When you just stuck your lip out pouting, she added. "I'll let you put sunscreen on me."

 It wasn't exactly what you were looking for but you'd take her up on it and see if you could sneak in a few kisses and feels here and there. "Deal." (Y/N) evaded all your attempts at seduction in your hour at the beach, which only had you frustrated and you hoped that you weren't sporting wood as you made your way back to your hotel room for your massage. It would be sort of awkward, but then again maybe that's what couple's massages were supposed to lead to. The room was draped in darkness as you made your way inside. Furniture had been cleared so that two tables could be set up. Rose petals were scattered all over the room with soft candlelight glowing and the relaxing sounds of the ocean playing in the background. It really was quite romantic and you found yourself pulling (Y/N) closer to your side as the masseurs introduced themselves. There was a female and a male, and you kind of wonder who would be doing who, for the guy was kind of muscular and handsome and you weren't sure you wanted him to be touching your girlfriend, especially the way he seemed to be eyeing her in her bikini.

 After introductions were made, they then had you lay on top of the massage tables face up. Only a couple feet separated the distance between the two of you, so you reached out and grabbed (Y/N)'s hand, as the therapists began to work. Thankfully, the male masseur worked on you instead of (Y/N). You didn't realize what a jealous streak you had until the thought of some other guy touching her ran through your mind. "Feel free to talk to each other," the masseuse said as she kneaded (Y/N)'s shoulders.

 It seemed kind of awkward to carry on an intimate conversation in front of strangers, so you stuck to just keeping things basic. "So this is nice, huh babe?" You threw in the word babe for the male therapist knowledge, letting him know that (Y/N) was indeed taken, not that he shouldn't know that given that this was a couple's thing.

 "It really is. This whole vacation has been magical." She gave your hand a little squeeze. "I don't know how you want me to go back to real life after this."

 "Well, we don't have to just yet. We still have a couple weeks in Cole Harbour, before heading back to Pittsburgh." You had your two days with the Stanley Cup coming up and while that would entail a little bit of work, as there was a parade planned as well as other things; there was also a big celebration that (Y/N) and your mom had been working on.

 "That's true, though I'll be heading back before you."

 This was news to you and had you almost rolling on your side so that you could face her. "What do you mean?"

 "You know I have to be back on the twentieth to get things ready for training camp."

 "Yeah, I'm going with you then." Had you forgotten to tell her that?

 "Um…" she hesitated, weighing her words in front of the strangers currently massaging you. "You'll be mid training with Nate, so that's probably not going to work."

 "I'll just train in Pittsburgh."

 She turned her head completely so that she could look you in the eye. "We can discuss it later." The look on her face told you that there would be no arguing the point and you figured it was best to have this conversation when she was in a better mood. The two of you fell into a silence as what was supposed to be a romantic time to bring you both together now had this icy chill to it. The masseurs asked you to flip over and now you couldn't really even look at your girlfriend to gauge her mood. Instead, you started to work on a plan that would hopefully turn this time around. It was about fifteen minutes into your back rub that you sprung up from the table with an idea. You silenced the massage therapists with a finger, then wandered over by the phone grabbing the pen and paper and asking if it was possible for the two of them to leave you alone, but not let (Y/N) know. The masseur nodded his agreement a silent look passing between him and the masseuse working on (Y/N).

 In a soft voice, (Y/N)'s massage therapist leaned down to her and said. "We're going to switch a moment. There's a knot that I just can't work out." (Y/N) hummed out her agreement, not moving and then the two quietly slipped out the door. You went to work, kneading the muscles of her back, hoping she wouldn't notice it was you. Years of getting massage work done on your body had taught you a thing or two, though you had to admit you loved when (Y/N) gave them to you more, hopefully, you giving her this one in return would win you some brownie points after your earlier discussion. You toiled over her upper body for quite some time before moving down to her legs. Folding the sheet up to reveal her lower half, you slathered more oil on your hands and let them glide up and down her calves working your way up her thighs. When her legs drifted slightly apart you couldn't help your hands as they traveled to her inner thighs. Each pass had you inching closer and closer to her core. All you would have to do is shift her bikini bottoms to the side, that or undo the strings, and she would be exposed to you. Instead, though, you moved your hands higher to ass, the sheet sneaking higher up.

 By now you did have to wonder why she was letting some strange man touch her ass like this, but you still kept caress her globes, until temptation got the better of you, and you tugged at the strings. On your next pass of her bottom, you flopped the material down between her legs. This time letting your fingers slip between her folds. Fuck she was wet and now you didn't know if you were pissed that another man was turning her on or if your brain was just consumed with lust for this woman, but either way, you kept fondling her. You waited for her to tell you to stop, or more like the masseur to, but she didn't instead she just moaned. You couldn't help what fell from your lips. "Babe, why are you moaning?" Hopefully, it sounded like you were on the table next to her.

 "Because I always do that when you touch me like that." She giggled then and you knew she'd found you out.

 "How'd you know it was me?" Your fingers slipped out of her, as you were slightly stunned.

 "I'd know your calloused hands anywhere Mr. Crosby." Damn, years of hockey had made your hands rough, and not nice and smooth like someone who basically bathed them in oil all day. She flipped over to her front. "But please continue, as I have to say it was quite an enjoyable massage. Do you promise a happy ending?"

 "Oh baby, do I ever." You ran both hands up her legs, then moved so you were in the middle of the table, your fingers slipping down to her pussy. Taking your thumb and index finger you rubbed her outer lips together while your other hand caressed her breasts. This time when she moaned you took comfort in the knowledge that she knew it was you who was bringing her pleasure. It was easy to slip two fingers inside her with all the oil on your hands and all of the wetness on her cunt. You pumped them in and out her, your thumb flicking across her clit as you went. She spread herself wider for you, lifting one knee so you'd have more access to her. (Y/N) looked so beautiful laying there, glistening from the oils on her body and you told yourself then, that there was no way you were not going back to Pittsburgh when she did, for you didn't think you'd be able to stand being without her even for a few short weeks. Her cries brought you back to the present, and you slid your free hand to put a little pressure on her mons.

 "Sid, please…" she begged and her hips started to rise which only had you adding more pressure. You worked her little nub furiously as your fingers thrust inside her. It didn't take long until you felt her pussy walls contract on your fingers, sucking them deeper inside her as she came. A rush of wetness followed and (Y/N) called out your name as the orgasm overtook her. God, she was beautiful, her body slightly flushed from climax and a sheen of both sweat and oil on it. If it was possible your cock became even harder at the sight. You watched as this euphoric transformation came across her face and took satisfaction in knowing that it was you that could make that happen to her. Her hand grabbed your wrist and hauled you close to her, so she could clamp her mouth on yours. The kiss was full of heat and desperate, turning you on even more. "Will this hold both of us?"

 "I don't see why not, and if it doesn't, I'll pay for it." You stripped out of your swim trunks in record time before climbing over the top of (Y/N), and though you were confident in your reply to her; you still moved gingerly in case the massage table didn't hold up. Thankfully, it did as she wrapped her legs around your waist. The oil on both your bodies made it a challenge for her to keep the position but she did her best as your cock slid inside her slippery cunt. (Y/N) gasped at the feel of you. Buried to the hilt inside her, you almost came right there. It was like the first time that the two of you slept together and you loved that every time with (Y/N) felt new and exciting.

 "Sid," she panted out, and you gazed down into her gorgeous eyes that were shining with love. "Please move…I need you." It was all she had to say, as your mouth came down on hers stealing both hers and your breath away before you slowly pumped in and out of her. She felt amazing as always, hips thrusting to meet yours as your tongues entwined. This was exactly where you saw this romantic massage leading. Well, maybe not on the actual table but this joining of your bodies and heart. (Y/N) had swept into your life and just made everything perfect and you wondered how you'd ever lived this long without her in it.

 "I love you, so much (Y/N)." You felt the raw emotion in your voice and hoped she could hear it as well. They weren't just words you were saying to her, it was how you truly felt. You would do anything for this woman, give up anything as well, though she'd never ask that and you knew it. You needed her to know this but didn't know how to say it, so you let your body do the talking for you, thrusting deep inside her.

 She arched her back in pleasure, though her eyes never left yours. "I love you too, Sid," and you felt it with every move of her body and gasp of her lips. You knew she felt the same way about you; needed you as much as you needed her. The first spasm of her walls milked you inside as you noticed her climax hit her. Her legs tightened around you, as they started to shake, and then she was there, pleasure cascading over her as the orgasm struck. You locked your lips with hers as she cried out and followed her down the path of climax, spilling your seed inside her.

 There were endless kisses as you both came off the high and as much as you wanted to stay inside her forever; it wasn't the most comfortable position for the two of you on the small table. So dropping one last kiss to her lips, you slid out of the haven that was her pussy, lifting her up in your arms and carrying her to the bedroom. "What about returning all that?" She questioned referencing all the massage equipment in the living room.

 "They'll be well compensated for waiting until tomorrow. I have other plans for us tonight." It was that way for the rest of your vacation. You couldn't get enough of (Y/N). The public displays of affection between the two of you were ridiculous, and if your teammates had seen it they would chirp you endlessly, but you didn't care. In fact, you had a feeling it would become something that happened regularly during the season, so you prepared yourself for the ribbing you would happily take.  

#Not So Dangerous Liaison Series #sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #Sidney Crosby Imagines #Sidney Crosby Smut #Pittsburgh Penguins fanfiction #Pittsburgh Penguins imagine #Pittsburgh Penguins imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #hockey smut

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 31 Part I

Buster tried his darnedest to get her a date for the party. He first suggested John Barrymore, apparently forgetting (or not caring) that Barrymore had once been his greatest rival for her affection. Nelly’s opinion of him hadn’t changed since Tempest; hanging onto the arm of a crude drunk all night was not her idea of a good time. She said no. He next suggested Buster Collier. She’d never met him, but he’d been in so many pictures that she knew his face well, though she couldn’t say what the films had been about. Buster Collier had been going with Constance Talmadge until recently. The break-up wasn’t personal; Buster told her the two were still friends.

“Certainly not, then,” said Nelly. “She’ll want to know who I am, how he met me—no. She’ll know something’s fishy.”

The suggestion of Charlie Chaplin followed. She gave more consideration to it. Charlie was charming and easy to talk to. In the end, he was out of the question given the many rumors about his sexual excesses and questionable behavior with women. She didn’t think it was a wise idea and Buster had to agree. The two were friendly but not pals, and he admitted he didn’t know how far to trust Charlie either. In desperation, he floated the idea of his brother, Jingles.

“Are you kidding?” she said. Buster had told her enough about his family that she’d gotten a pretty good picture of Jingles, who lacked his big brother’s confidence in all areas of life and was a hopeless failure with women. “No one will believe that for a second.”

“Well, I’m out of ideas,” said Buster, sounding annoyed on the other end of the phone.

“Let me ask Bradford. He was my dance partner for Tempest. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go for girls, anyway, so he’d be perfect.”

Nelly didn’t know that her proposition was any better than Buster’s. To his guests, Buster had treated her presence at his party in October as no big curiosity, a matter of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say now to them now, what he’d say if Natalie in particular asked why he’d invited two big nobodies like her and Bradford. Natalie might rightfully wonder why they among hundreds of aspiring actors were there. Buster’s quick mind would probably come up with an explanation that passed muster, but Nelly worried. He’d mentioned once, an offhand comment that was far more significant to her than it was him, that Natalie had fits of jealousy over him. Nelly’s instincts told her that attending the party was a bad idea, that she’d be too much temptation to Buster and he’d give their affair away with a look or a word or, worse still, a tender caress. Regardless, she couldn’t refuse even if she’d wanted to. He’d hinted about a birthday surprise and she couldn’t let him down, not to mention she was dying to know what he’d cooked up. Aside from the tabletop phonograph and occasional record, he’d stuck to his promise not to shower her in gifts and she knew he wasn’t about to present her with something in front of his wife and guests.

Uneasiness gnawing, she directed Bradford to the Villa at dusk on Friday night. He was just as keen as she was to break into pictures, so he’d agreed to drive her to the party and be her date without hesitation, especially after she explained she only wanted to go as friends. He’d gotten a minor role in the newest D.W. Griffith, the picture she’d tried out unsuccessfully for, and was happy to tell her about it while they drove, far less stoic than he’d been with her on previous occasions. His chattiness, she guessed, was due to his eagerness to meet and charm as many stars as possible and he was having trouble controlling his excitement. As Bradford recalled how he’d spoken briefly to Griffith on the set earlier in the week, she wondered, as she’d been wondering lately, about her career path in Hollywood. There were murmurs at the United Artists canteen about a Mary Pickford talkie with Sam Taylor directing, not Shakespeare. It gave her mixed feelings. On the one hand, maybe Mr. Taylor had forgotten about directing Pickford and Fairbanks in The Taming of the Shrew. On the other, she’d been relegated to the prop house for Lady of the Pavements, the new Griffith. A niggling fear had begun to creep on her, that her much more mundane talents at management and organization were impeding her career as an actress.

As the long white drive of the Villa became visible in the distance, she asked Bradford the question she’d been dreading, knowing he’d have his own questions in turn. “When we get there, would you pretend like we’re going together?” she said.

“Pretend like we’re going together?” said Bradford.

“Yes,” she said, running her fingers over the thin chain-metal handle of her handbag. “Just, you know, hold my hand or put your arm around my waist while we’re there. Dance with me more than the other fellows. Maybe a kiss on the cheek once and awhile, that kind of stuff.”

“I’ll do it if you really want me to, but why?” he said, sounding mystified.

Nelly weighed whether to tell him the truth and decided she didn’t have a choice. “I’m seeing someone who’s going to be there and I don’t want his wife to get suspicious,” she said, being careful with her words.

Bradford chuckled. “Now I get it. I was wondering why you asked me of all people.”

She felt defensive. “You’re the closest I have to a friend, a friend who’s a fellow. I’ve been too busy to get to know very many people. It’ll be no different than if you were acting.”

“Relax,” he said, leaning over to elbow her in a friendly way. “You think I’d miss this? I don’t care what you want me there for, frankly. I’m at your beck and call.”

Her shoulders relaxed; she hadn’t been aware that she was clenching them. “Thank you,” she said. “I do like you just fine, I just didn’t know who else to invite. You’re the first fellow who came to mind.”

“Relax,” said Bradford again. He continued talking amiably as his Ford crept up the Villa drive. He wanted to know how she knew Buster and she reminded him of her involvement with Steamboat. “When’s that coming out, anyhow?” he said.

“Any day now from what I’m told,” she said, her mind only half on the conversation. Butterflies tickled her abdomen from the inside.

The circle drive with the fountain in the center was ringed with expensive cars, Packards, Rolls Royces, and Lincolns. There was a man leading a woman wrapped in a white fur stole up the steps and into the house. Bradford grinned like a little boy as he drank it all in. He helped her out of the Ford which was dismally out of place, but there was no sense in worrying about it now. She reminded herself that she was an actress and could every bit pretend to be a person who belonged to the ranks of the stars. With this in mind, she ascended the steps with her arm hooked in Bradford’s elbow and let him open the door for her. “Thank you darling,” she said, practicing that acting as he took her arm again. She hoped that the figure dressed in the beaded navy-blue dress and standing beyond the vestibule had heard it. Natalie was greeting the guests ahead of them. Seeing her, Nelly felt a little on the faint side. She’d rented her dress at Carmela’s again, this one $25 and less eye-catching. It was sleeveless and of bright purple damask. It had no beading or ruffles, just modest ruching around the waist. She’d accented it with her own glass amethyst pendant necklace and ivory silk stockings. She had wanted to look less noticeable, but the light in the vestibule made the satin threads in the dress dazzle and flash. She’d done a formidable job of keeping worry about her mistake with Buster at bay the past week, but Natalie’s nearness and realness brought it home. Slim though it was, a chance existed that this woman’s husband had made her pregnant. Before Nelly had time to gather her wits about her on this matter, she and Bradford were advancing to greet Natalie.

“How do you do?” said Natalie, and Nelly and Bradford echoed her.

Bradford answered Natalie’s unspoken question. “We work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

Nelly could only manage a desperate smile as she took in all the flesh-and-blood details of Natalie and remembered how Buster had looked in the mirror as he’d thrust himself into her. She wondered if Natalie recognized her from the party last autumn and was relieved at the sound of the front door opening behind them and the excuse to move on from the hostess so she could greet her next guests.

“Holy mackerel,” Bradford said under his breath, as he led her into the foyer and looked around him.

Nelly took stock of who was at the party already. She saw Norma Shearer, Bebe Daniels, Marion Davies, Pickford and Fairbanks, and before her eyes had gotten any further, Buster. Her heart went at a clip at the sight of him. She’d expected him to be upstairs and make a grand entrance as he’d done at the previous party. He was wearing a smart brown suit and his hair was neatly combed, every errant strand in place. He swirled a glass of whiskey and took a sip, talking with Norma Talmadge and a dark-looking man with Spaniard features. “That must be Gilbert Roland,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Hmm?” said Bradford.

“Norma Talmadge’s boyfriend. She’s married, but everyone knows she’s seeing Gil Roland,” she said, reciting the gossip she’d heard from Buster.

“You’re back,” said someone cheerfully.

She turned and beamed when she recognized Charlie Chaplin. The sight of him reminded her how fun it was to be among the brightest stars in Hollywood and her discomfort about Natalie eased. “Hello again,” she said. She held out her hand to his extended one and he kissed it, his lips soft and cool on the back of her hand. She giggled, thinking she really would have been in trouble if she’d attended the party with him. “This is Bradford. He’s with me at United Artists.”

“Oh, that’s simply heartbreaking. Don’t tell me you’re taken!” said Charlie, his hand going to his heart.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, leaning her head on Bradford’s shoulder briefly to demonstrate. “I’ll still save a dance for you.”

“If you’d be so kind,” he said, his accent rich and irresistible. “But why haven’t I seen you at United Artists?”

Nelly smiled and squeezed Bradford’s arm. “We’re undiscovered I’m afraid, but D.W. Griffith has his eye on Bradford. They spoke just this week. Me they’re keeping locked up in the prop department right now, but just you wait.”

Charlie winked. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? Will you be about next week?”

She could hardly believe it. And she’d been so worried about her career. “Of course.”

“Good. It’s settled. I’ll catch you when the band starts, hmm?” he said. “Lovely to see you.” He pressed her hand and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

Her head whirled. One minute she was worried about Natalie Talmadge finding her out, the next Charlie Chaplin seemed to be promising her some sort of a future in films. And there was a band!

“Drink?” said a butler she didn’t know, stopping in front of them with a tray on which were arranged a number of delectable-looking drinks, all of oranges, deep reds, and yellowish creams.

“Thank you,” she and Bradford said, choosing drinks after a few moments’ consideration. She went for the cream-colored one.

Another butler materialized with hors d'oeuvres. She plucked up one of the bite-sized trifles and popped it in her mouth. She tasted dill and some kind of fish. Bradford sampled one too before returning to his drink. She didn’t recognize the butler. Buster must have hired help for the party. Bradford wound a hand around her shoulder. “Thanks for all this, darling,” he said. The endearment was scripted for anyone within hearing, but he meant the words.

“You’re welcome,” she said, sipping her drink. It had the flavor of pineapples, a California taste if there ever was one.

Her eyes roamed over the guests again. She recognized Constance Talmadge, Harold Lloyd, Buster Collier, John Gilbert, and Gloria Swanson. There were many men she didn’t know, some of middling looks, some downright unhandsome; those were the directors and big shots. Her gaze flickered to Buster just as he looked over at her. He gave a small, unsmiling nod and returned to his conversation. A mild pang struck her at the coldness of his acknowledgment, but she was relieved that he was being careful. She and Bradford kept to themselves, smiling and responding in kind whenever a guest nodded and said hello. She missed Louise Brooks and wished she had a girl friend to keep her company.

They were on their second drinks when attendees began to nod at each other and move in the direction of the living room. Exchanging looks, Nelly and Bradford followed. The living room, fully decorated when she’d last seen it five days ago, had been denuded of all furniture. Against the loggia on the southwest wall, a full orchestra was arrange in a suite of chairs. The members held instruments of all sizes and shapes, violins, saxophones great and small, trumpets, clarinets, a drum kit, a piano, an upright bass, even a huge tuba sitting somewhat uneasily in one man’s lap. There were at least two dozen men in the band at Nelly’s quick count, dressed alike in black tuxedos and bow ties. With the furniture and grand piano moved out, the living room was more spacious than ever.

“Why, it’s Paul Whiteman’s Orchestra!” Bradford said into her ear, voice hushed. He nudged her and flicked a finger in the direction of a fat man with a round face standing to the right of the orchestra.

Nelly was dazzled. The realization that one of her favorite bands in the room burst through her like a beam of sunshine. She couldn’t find words for her awe, but clutched for Bradford’s hand and squeezed it. The orchestra was burbling in a tuneless way as violinists tested strings and trumpets and saxophones tried out notes. A kind of restlessness pervaded the scene, musicians keen to begin, partygoers eager to dance. This went on for a few minutes until Buster threaded his way through his guests and stood facing the crowd with his back to the band.

“Nate and I want to thank you for coming tonight,” he began. “It’s an honor and a—” He looked over the crowd for a few moments as though he were thinking about what to say next. “An honor, a pleasure … you know, that kind of stuff. Anyway, I’d like you to give a hand for this gentleman and his little band here. They’re not very well-known, but if you’ll just, uh, pretend a little I’m sure it’ll make them very happy.” He straightened his tie, took one step forward, and fell on his face. There was laughter. As Buster stood up and brushed himself off, Paul Whiteman took his place. He was even less a man of words than Buster, saying only to the guests, “Thank you very much for having us tonight.” He walked to the left of the musicians and addressed them. “Gentleman …”

Two men assembled at the front of the orchestra near the upright piano. Nelly wondered for a second how they transported it from gig to gig, but forgot the question when Whiteman lifted his baton, held it in the air, and dropped it. The two men and the one at the piano began scatting a capella.

Wot-dot-dot, doh-dot, dot-dot-doh

Wot-dot-dot-dot, dot-dot-doh …

The man at the piano laid his hands on the keys just as one of the singers started in a smooth baritone, “You’ve heard of the Charleston, the Black Bottom.”

“I’ve got a rhythm that’s really got ‘em,” chimed the other singer. “It must be something new.”

“Gonna start it for you,” sang the man at the piano. It goes like, One, there it is.

His companions joined him:

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

At this, the snare sounded a beat and the whole orchestra burst into voice. Bradford grabbed Nelly’s hand and waist and swung her into motion. She yelped with delight. The rhythm was too fast for her to think about whether her feet were doing five steps; she just clung to Bradford and tried to keep up with the foxtrot he was leading her in. Over his shoulder, she could see that all the other dancers were smiling, Marion Davies dancing with Charlie Chaplin, Gloria Swanson paired with John Barrymore. She felt a sudden, uncanny sense of belonging as she and Bradford galloped along. A clarinet soloed, followed by a violin in a high, reedy voice like a grasshopper.

One, there it is,

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

One, got to learn,

One-two, got to learn,

One-two-three, there is not such a lot to learn,

One-two-three-four, aren’t you hot to learn?

One-two-three-four, five steps!

As the singers carried on, it was all Nelly could do to keep her rhythm and her breath. She was panting and laughing when the final note sounded. She and Bradford withdrew from the dancers to get a drink of punch from the bowl on the table in the foyer. As soon as their thirst was quenched, though, she took Bradford’s hand and hurried back into the room. She wasn’t going to miss a moment of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra’s set if she could help it.

The orchestra had begun a sweet, wistful melody led by trumpets. She recognized it at once as “Mary,” one of her favorites. Rather than dancing, she stood on the edge of the crowd with Bradford and watched. The trumpets piped and her heart was overfull as she soaked in the music and her surroundings with all of her might. Dancers kicked up their heels in a slower foxtrot as the full orchestra echoed the trumpets’ melody. She could have watched all the beautiful stars before her in their tuxes and brightly colored dresses, but she had eyes only for the orchestra and Whiteman’s graceful conducting. It was a marvel the way he brought different sections of the band to life with just a flick of his baton.

One of the singers stepped forward as a violin finished off the melody. He was perhaps a little taller than Buster, but slightly husky, with ears that stuck out and eyes as blue as a spring sky.

What are you waitin’ for,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

What are you thinkin’ ‘bout,

Who are you thinkin’ ‘bout, Mary?

The bees are buzzin’,

They’re buzzin’ right in my ear,

And they keep on asking,

Hey, what’s the big idea?

He was the one with the smooth baritone like poured honey. All his notes flowed together without a single hitch. She recognized his voice from many of Whiteman’s records.

“He’s incredible,” she said, standing on tiptoes to whisper it in Bradford’s ear. He nodded in return.

Why do you lead me on,

Why do you be so con-trary?

You wouldn’t let my castles

Come tum-tum-tumblin’ down

Think of the things in store,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

The violins concluded the melody and the brass took it up again. Her senses were filled with trumpets and the snare, then the orchestra singing as one voice.

She didn’t notice how spellbound she’d become until applause startled her back to reality. She clapped along with everyone else and the singer gave a bow and a modest smile. Bradford was bending to say something about the music when Nelly felt the cloth of a suit on the bare skin of her left shoulder. She turned to see Buster. He looked ahead, nonchalant, and her heart gave a fond trot.

“How d’ya like your birthday present?” he said quietly, still looking ahead.

“Oh, don’t kid me.” Even as she said it though, she knew in her heart of hearts that he wasn’t joking. The band was for her.

Still not looking at her, he gave the slightest of smiles. “Pretty good joke, huh?”

Her eyes welled. “I don’t know whether to kiss or kill you. You’re out of your mind and I don’t know how I’ll ever begin to thank you.” When she looked at him again, he was finally looking back, his brown eyes so affectionate she was in danger of throwing her arms around him in front of all of Hollywood, including his wife.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” he said, but his tone was curious, not suspicious.

She wiped the trace of tears from her eyes and turned to Bradford, who by then had noticed their conversation. “This is Bradford,” she said, laying a hand on his upper arm. “Bradford, this is Buster.”

“How d’you do, Mr. Keaton?” said Bradford, extending a hand. He glanced from Buster to her as they shook hands and she saw him connect the dots. Her insides went hot and cold. In hindsight, her casual introduction of Buster was a dead giveaway.

“Where’s Louise?” she said, moving on and trying not to punish herself for her mistake.

“Brooks? Or my sister? Sis is here somewhere. Probably trying to corner Ramon Novarro by the punch bowl.” He removed his cigarettes from his breast pocket and pulled one out. “Brooks, you know the score. Wife thinks there’s some funny business going on between us and if I invite her to another party I’m dead meat.”

Trying to be friendly or playing an angle, Bradford butted in. “How’s your new picture, Mr. Keaton?”

“Buster,” he said, taking a drag off the cigarette. “Going alright I guess. Can’t complain. You in pictures?”

Bradford chattered away about D.W. Griffith and Nelly looked around them briefly to see if anyone was paying attention to their interaction. None of the Talmadges were near. She spotted Natalie and Norma chatting with Douglas Fairbanks across the room. Constance was standing nearer and speaking to a man Nelly didn’t recognize, but her back was turned to them.

“Wanna dance?” said Buster, fingers curving into her elbow.

She gave an anxious glance at Bradford, worried about him overhearing, but remembered he already knew. She said in an undertone, “I don’t think we ought to. Not for a few more songs at least. You should dance with a couple other girls first.”

Buster squeezed the crook of her arm and dropped his hand. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll be back.”

Half an hour later, he had taken her advice. The band had played “I’m Coming Virginia,” “Mississippi Mud,” and “Grandma.” Her next two dances had gone to Bradford and she’d sat “Grandma” out. Buster had danced with Constance Talmadge, Bebe Daniels, and Marion Davies. The crowd of guests had gotten louder as more cocktails circulated. Nelly had accepted a third drink, but was tempering herself and had taken only a sip. The blue-eyed singer stepped forward and commanded the crowd’s attention.

“We just added this one to the repertoire. It’s from a musical they’ve got in New York right now called Present Arms. Harry and Al and me, we’ll introduce you to it,” he said in a smooth, affable voice. He smiled, showing white, even teeth and snapped his fingers at the orchestra to cue them, eyes on the audience.

She was so focused on him that she was startled when someone seized the drink from her hand. Buster walked away from her and set her drink on a side table on the periphery of the room. “Come on kid, I’ve waited long enough,” he said, setting his hand on her waist when he returned. The orchestra was in full swing, the brass section taking up a melody that the strings underscored and singing out cheerfully. A clarinet butted in every several measures, rich and mellow. Nelly had danced with Buster a dozen times in her apartment and his bungalow, but as he folded her hand into his, she remembered just their first dance at the party in October. She’d been spooked then about her changing feelings for him and nervous lest Natalie think something was afoot. Now that they were really having an affair, the dread and nervousness were like a thousand pin-pricks to her skin. She was sure it must be obvious that Buster and she were more than simply acquaintances.

Buster led her in a medium-tempo foxtrot, his eyes cast upward, as though dancing with her among all the other women was no big deal. Only his thumb massaging her palm gave him away. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. She tried to pay attention to the dance, the rhythm of her hips and her feet and not the sensation that every person in the room was staring at them and wondering about the girl Buster was dancing with.

He leaned in, his cheek almost resting against hers. “Loosen up,” he said in her ear.

She put her mouth by his ear in turn. “I feel like everyone’s watching us.”

He gave a calm, closed-lipped smile. “Everyone’s too busy getting ossified and cutting a rug to pay us any, baby.”

“I still don’t feel—”

“Hush,” he said. “Just enjoy yourself.”

The brassy trumpet and an oboe bantered for a while before the full orchestra cut back in.

I’m a sentimental sap that’s all

What’s the use of trying not to fall?

I have no will

Aw, you made your kill

‘Cause you took advantage of me

It was the blue-eyed singer again. In the background, the two others crooned softly. Nelly closed her eyes for a beat and watched herself as Natalie might, were she able to peer inside Nelly’s head. Buster. The Villa. The Paul Whiteman Orchestra.

I’m just like an apple on a bough

And you’re gonna shake me down somehow

So what’s the use?

You cooked my goose

‘Cause you took advantage of me

Her purple dress. A room full of stars.

I’m so hot and bothered that I don’t know

My elbow from my ear

Suffer something awful each time you go,

Much worse when you’re near

Playing billiards in Buster’s game room. Buster enclosing her in his arms on his bed.

Here I am with all my bridges burned

Just a babe in arms where you’re concerned

Buster’s lips and tongue and fingers and hands. His prick.

So lock the door and call me yours

‘Cause you took advantage of me

The shower. The down blanket and the stars sparkling over Beverly Hills. Buster’s body warm against hers.

The brass section sang out again, boisterous, confident, the strings wrapping its melody. Nelly moved her feet, scarcely conscious of the dance. Her head was still planted in the clouds when it ended and Buster’s hands let go. She couldn’t help glance around her, wondering who’d been watching. To her relief, the one person who caught her eye was Bradford, who had just let go of Marion Davies. He kissed Marion’s hand and said something in her ear that made her laugh, then walked back over to Nelly.

“Don’t make me jealous now,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Look who’s talking!” she said, giving him the smile and all the weight of feeling she would have to Buster had she been able.

“Don’t forget your Orange Blossom,” said Buster, pressing it back in her hand. “I’ll be back for you in a little bit.” He turned away and she saw him catch John Gilbert by the arm and demand something that made Gilbert roar with laughter.

“How’d you enjoy your dance with Miss Davies?” said Nelly to Bradford.

“Oh, I expect I’ll be playing the lead in her next picture,” Bradford said, winking to show that his boast wasn’t serious. “How was your dance with Mr. Keaton?”

“He dances well,” she said, playing along.

A cool hand on her arm made her turn. Nelly blanched when she saw who it was.

“Have we met?” said the blonde woman, her smile warm.

“I don’t believe so. You’re Constance Talmadge.”

Constance smiled. She had a small, prim mouth outlined in a rose-colored lipstick. Her hair was waved and golden, her throat sparkling with a sapphire and diamond choker.

One of the singers was singing, “Baby face, you’ve got the cutest little baby face …”

“That’s right. And you?” said Constance.

Nelly reminded herself that she could act with the best of them. She put a hand on Bradford’s back. “Bradford and I work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

“I’m in the new D.W. Griffith,” Bradford offered.

“Oh, that’s fine,” said Constance, sounding interested. “What’s your role?”

Bradford smiled. “Well I’m just an extra at the moment, but Mr. Griffith said Thursday he’s going to fit me into more scenes. He found out I can play piano and thinks he can use me for a bigger role.”

“I loved you in Breakfast at Sunrise,” Nelly said to her. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

“Why thank you.” Constance was as friendly as could be, but there was something about her appearance that made Nelly uneasy. “Is this your first time at one of Bus and Nate’s ‘dos?” she asked.

Nelly put on her best casual smile. “My second. I was here last fall.” She didn’t offer to explain how she knew Buster and hoped that Constance wouldn’t inquire. Distantly, she heard the orchestra and saw the bodies around them moving in time to the music.

“Oh, then you’re old hat. Have you tried the crab croquettes?”

Nelly said that she hadn’t. She was wondering where the conversation would go next when Bradford broke in. “Miss Talmadge,” he said, his voice brimming with charm. “Would it be too forward to ask you to dance?”

Constance smiled. Nelly could tell she was genuinely charmed. “Even if it was, I’ll say yes.”

“Wonderful.” He palmed her waist which was clothed in blue silk and chiffon. Glancing at Nelly as he took Constance’s small, white hand in his, he said, “Sorry, darling. Don’t be jealous.”

Nelly could have kissed him. With only one thought in mind, she elbowed her way out of the crowd and to one of the butlers, she helped herself to a minty green drink from his tray. She tossed it back, grabbed an Orange Blossom, and gulped that too. To his credit, the butler was too well-bred to react. She would have explained to him if she could that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy another second of the party without being drunk. The encounter with Constance had brought her jitters to a fever pitch. Nodding her thanks to the butler, she took another Orange Blossom in hand and went to track down the washroom.

The blue-eyed singer’s baritone followed her down the hall.

Birds are singing merrily

The sun is shining peacefully

Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

She locked the door behind her and set the drink on the edge of the sink as she relieved herself. Her make-up needed no touching up, and her cheeks were flushed with drink. Buster had engaged the Paul Whiteman Orchestra as a birthday gift to her and she was going to relax if it was the last thing she did. Technically it wasn’t her birthday for a few more hours, but even if they didn’t know it, everyone out there was dancing in honor of Nelly Foster’s twenty-seventh year on earth. She exited the washroom feeling more secure with this thought. Bradford was playing his part perfectly. The Talmadges didn’t suspect anything. It was okay if she loosened up as Buster had urged her to do.

#Buster Keaton #fan fiction #RPF #Actor RPF #Golden Age Hollywood #1920s #Bing Crosby #Paul Whiteman Orchestra

[autumndesk]

Have you ever had to raise your grade before? How did you go about that? Also 10/10 for your vlog, it's very pretty.

Hi! Thanks so much for the compliment :) in university I’ve had to do a couple resits so you could say I had to raise my grade for those classes. I hope you’re looking for advise to study for resits and not for raising a grade during the semester. :)

Allow yourself to relax after your finals: go on a vacation, meet with friends, do fun stuff. Do everything but school related stuff. Just forget about school for a bit. 

But, it’s important to know when you have to start studying again. Relaxing for a month and then making a planner could end up giving you time management issues. You could make a planner a couple of days into your summer holidays: how many days would you ideally take to study the subjects and how many days do you need to prepare for the actual studying? Based on that, you can make a planner and know how much time you have to relax without getting yourself into trouble.

It’s important to figure out why you failed. Depending on what caused my bad grade, I’ll have a different approach.

Failing because I studied too little

It’s important to take your time now that you’re able to! Make sure that when making a planner, you plan enough study time this time to pass.

If the resit is for a course you took in the first semester (so often almost half a year ago), do not underestimate how much you’ll have forgotten! I made this mistake last year. I thought I wouldn’t need a lot of time to study for my resit, ‘because I had already seen the course’, but boy, I barely knew anything anymore. 

Failing because I had too little time to catch up on the course during the semester

When I had too little time during the semester to catch up on certain classes, I sometimes decided to focus on the rest and do the other class during the summer.

You’ll have to learn an entire course by yourself in one month or a couple of weeks, so it’s important to start on time!

It comes in handy to have passive knowledge, which I find more helpful than just starting to study a subject from scratch without knowing what the course is actually about. You could watching class recordings, read the textbook or a summary, etc.

If you decide to drop a course during the semester and do the exam in the summer, you got to have the discipline to study during summer holidays! If you know that you won’t study, please don’t use this method! A friend of mine has been using this method for two years: she only takes a couple of exams and she’ll do the other courses during the summer, BUT then she’ll say she doesn’t feel like studying during the summer holidays and thus she doesn’t do her resits. This is not a good method!

If you do decide to drop a class, I’d advise you to still take the exam. By doing that, you know what the exam will look like when you’re taking it in the summer (multiple choice, essay questions, etc.).

Failing because you hate the subject

If you’re having a hard time with a subject because you don’t find it interesting, make sure to pick enough days to study! 

By spreading the amount of work, you’ll have to study for a couple of hours a day and then you can reward yourself with some relaxing time. You’ll have to get through the subject anyhow, but if you give yourself only a couple of days to study ‘to get it over with’, you won’t be motivated if you have to study a subject you dislike for hours on end.

Failing because I did not understand the course material

Understanding a course takes time, so start on time!

Ask yourself if your previous study method worked. If not, change it.

At my university, some classes are recorded. Those recordings can be very useful to rewatch if the teacher can explain the course in a clear and understandable way. If not, don’t waste time rewatching! 

You could try studying from the textbook if that’s a method that suits you. Textbooks are sometimes more clear than the explanation of a professor. But, be sure what study material you have to know to pass: does the professor expect you to know the textbook, or is the textbook background information and do you need class notes to pass, because not everything the professor says is written in the textbook?

Look up videos on YouTube, there are a lot out there!

You could ask for the link to the recordings of the same class taught by another teacher who is actually capable of explaining things clearly

Ask a family member to tutor you if they know a lot about the subject

Try to find old exam questions and try to solve them 

Ask your teacher if he/she could send you more exercises

While studying, focus on the parts you’re having the most difficulty with. But, if you’re really not understanding a subject or two, leave them be. It’s better to know 80-90% of the course really well than spending too much time on 20-10% and not having enough time to cover the rest of the course in depth.

Failing because I made avoidable mistakes on the exam

Go look over your exam to see where you went wrong. Don’t just assume ‘it’s because I studied too little’ or something like that, you might have made mistakes that cost you a lot of grades, so by looking over your exam, you’ll know which mistakes not to make  again!

Write down which mistakes you made and what the correct answer is. Try to understand why your answer is wrong. There is no use in just learning the correct answers by heart.

Reread / study what you wrote down before your exam and write it down on a piece of scrap paper as soon as your exam starts.

Failing because I had too little time on the exam

On your exam, start with the questions that will get you the most grades IF you know the answer to those questions. For example, if there are two essay questions  that are 60% of your grade, and twenty multiple choice that are 40% of your grade, start with the essay questions first! 

If you don’t know the answer to those questions, start with the questions you do know. Don’t waste time, instead spend more time on trying to get all the grades on the questions you do know. If you have time left, try to write down what you know for the questions you left open.

Learn from why you failed. If you spent more time having fun during the semester (which is also important, don’t get me wrong) than studying, try to re-evaluate for next semester. 

Don’t beat yourself up over a bad grade! I used to do that, but there is no point. Your grade is what it is, being sad or angry won’t change it. Use your energy to prepare for your resit and ace that class! X

#Anonymous #studyblr #studying #how to study for a resit #resit #student #resits #study advice #study preparation #study motivation

[daantaat]

twu s2 thoughts even though nobody asked <3 just a brain dump and it’s quite long so I tried to separate my commentary by categories but it’s still a mess unfortunately. Spoilers under the cut!

General

Overall, I enjoyed season 1 more than season 2. I’ve watched season 2 three times now, and I do think it had some good parts that I definitely overlooked during my first watch (probably because I was preoccupied with Charlotte x Shona 😶😅). My initial reaction to this season was like ‘hmm so that happened and I’m not sure what to think’ but then I rewatched it and tbh I think my complaints are mostly to do with the time jump between seasons and the pacing...

Like yeah there’s only so much to touch on in six 25-minute episodes but!!! I finished the season wanting a bit more, because I thought that some of the things that were introduced were either not explained fully/well or they just dropped off completely and didn’t really have an effect other than me asking questions after the season was over, like it felt as though there were missing scenes— more on that later (though maybe they will be addressed in season 3??? If there is one? How soon do shows get renewed? Idk). Though I guess the audience does have to do some interpretation of their own but still... Idk! Idk. And the assumption that certain events/plot points mentioned in a character’s dialogue would be enough for context had me kinda “:///” y’know? Like don’t tell me, show me?? I’d like the full course please!!

Charlotte x Shona (+ Vish I guess)

I think it was really jarring to see their relationship grow from colleague/business partners to friends and then finally to something more in season 1 only to see them awkwardly handle their unresolved feelings in the workplace with nothing to show for their actual relationship besides a mention of “a week-long gay safari” + the brief flashes of a sex scene that was intermingled with Shona and Vish’s cyber sex session, which in itself is 😐😐😐 like yes it shows that Shona still thinks about/fancies Charlotte in some capacity, but if I were to choose between that sex fantasy/flashback or a flashback of Charlotte and Shona together (like Charlotte telling Shona she was falling for her!!!!)... I think I’d choose the latter? I was just disappointed that we didn’t really get to see Charlotte and Shona being all cute and romantic with each other this season :(

ALSO I wished we got to see more of jealous!Shona; I was super hyped to see that since that scene was included in the trailer. It was nice to see her want the best for Charlotte because she’s “great” but the jealousy part of knowing Charlotte is dating someone great got settled pretty quickly and instead we got Shona evaluating her commitment to Vish and considering the idea of having kids after learning she has a womb of a 39-year-old (😐) and it felt.... like a lot!! It was definitely different from season 1 Shona (”I actually don’t want kids” “I genuinely, I genuinely don’t, you know, it’s not a big deal. Just never have” in 1x04) but if this was to show her dealing with comphet or internalized homophobia or just simply running away from her feelings then... idk what to think of it! I really don’t. I think this is where things could have been written differently because using an affair with Charlotte like that (an affair that we didn’t even get to see besides the stolen kisses at the finance event) was so... ugh, I’m suffering here

Anyway, I think their office scenes were definitely highlights of the season, like Indira and Sharon really gave those scenes their all!! Even though it hurts to see Charlotte so heartbroken and Shona running away from her feelings and hurting Charlotte in the process, I live for the angst lol. I will say though, the 180 that happened after their convo outside Charlotte’s office was a bit “🤔” considering Charlotte had talked to her therapist about Shona for 4 months. Like one hungover feeling dump from Shona and they can move on? Hmm communication is connection, huh. And I guess they were just excited that the article got good results? But how cute that they got each other gifts of their picture in the article??? Wtffff I love my “unfunny and obvious” gal pals even though I’m in pain

As for the voice note... omg, so many questions. Like did Charlotte try to reach out to Shona after she abruptly ended their call to check if she sent the voice note to Vish?? Was that gonna be the first time Charlotte heard Shona say “I love you” to her? What was the reason Shona said “I love you” anyway??? Is she, you know 👀 Also do y’all think Vish will listen to the entire voice note since it was clear it was meant for Charlotte? And who knows maybe Vish’s phone died and he can’t turn it back on or check his WhatsApp or whatever. I’m in denial lmao. But also I think he's a pretty good guy, like when he sent biscuits over to the house when Shona wanted some and him saying what’s the point of having fun in New York when she's not there with him... :/ but he was also a bit weird about her putting a nail in a wall or leaving out the egg duck or whatever as a display item in their house though I suppose that’s not a huge problem so like idk man idk!!! I'm just saying season 3 better not have a time jump I need to see what happens and not just in exposition

Shona and Aine

Love them :) I wish they had more scenes together (if that's possible??) but I liked the somewhat change in dynamic seeing Aine a bit worried about Shona (asking her if she’s okay when she mentions she’s thinking of getting a fringe lmao and again asking if she’s okay when they’re unpacking in Vish’s house). And of course Shona is still very protective and worrisome but seeing Aine just miserably lounging around her apartment over the weekend and getting in her bike accident after Shona wasn’t too supportive of her and James’s business idea made me so sad :( like Shona was so shitty about her not typing up everything in the notes for the meeting! And not even reading James's CV... big yikes. Anyway I thought it was odd that we didn’t get a follow up on the voice note Aine left Shona after getting into the bike accident... like she sounded soooo shaky and out of it :((( what luck Shona was sick and didn’t see Aine with a missing tooth before she got it fixed

Anyhow, Aine was right when she said Shona needs to talk to her and talk about her feelings more!! AND this is part of where my complaint about the pacing and the missing scenes comes into play! I think we should have seen Aine and Shona fighting about Shona’s affair and leaving Vish the voice note. The audience knows Aine cares about Vish and I’m not entirely sure where her relationship with Charlotte stands since Charlotte told Freddie about her being in rehab (on the assumption that he knew, as Aine’s ex-boyfriend) but!!! Just cutting to them on the floor waiting for Vish’s flight to land was not as hard hitting as it could have been

Aine x Bradley (+ Richard)

OKAYYY. Cute!!! I definitely overlooked the signs during my first watch here but yeah they were definitely there during my rewatch(es)!! I quite liked seeing Bradley try to get Aine to stop talking negatively about herself and just try to treat herself better in general like exercising and actually eating off of a plate :’) and the comparisons between Bradley and Richard have me like 👀📝 Bradley saying he likes how much Aine talks vs. Richard’s friend Mark saying she talks a lot and how he wasn’t expecting a whole show to which Richard replies he thought that at first too but she “calms down” like brooo... alright. Anyway Bradley going with her to Tom’s funeral/service made sense since he actually met Tom (though Aine did vaguely talk about him and his drinking problem to Richard in 1x05) and the fact that she told Bradley about PACT and her time there but she didn’t tell Richard (to be fair she was thinking about telling him) hmm 👀 Also Bradley saying “Sometimes it would just be nice to be with someone you could just relax with as yourself” yeah I’m on board with them

Loneliness, COVID, Communication is Connection

Initially I thought these themes could have come across a little stronger but after rewatching... hmm. Yes, Shona was lonely in the house by herself; she even asked Anil to stay for dinner, had her own “pile of shit” boyfriend on her bed (which she did clear off), and told Vish that nobody had time for her. Also after the business meeting she asked Aine what she was doing during the weekend (which Aine also spent alone anyway), but I dunno... oh yeah her hen/bachelorette party was a bit lonely since places were starting to go into lockdown and not everybody could attend, but I think the COVID element entered a bit too late into this season? I’m not sure it really added much in terms of the loneliness. Maybe it did add to the uncertainty of things though

“Communication is Connection” was there but I thought it kind of fell flat as well, but maybe that was the intention— to highlight the mess that a lack of communication can cause? Shona apparently writing off Charlotte’s feelings and them not necessarily talking about their relationship/feelings until their convo outside Charlotte’s office... Shona talking to Seema saying she’s never really asked what Vish wanted (regarding kids) and Seema saying that’s a convo for her and Vish to have... Aine not telling Richard she overheard him and Mark talking about her... Richard not consulting Aine about telling Etienne about them and just getting a new tutor for him... hmm. What does it mean. What does it all mean

Other stuff I’m still thinking about/have questions about

Shona mentioning it’s “annoying” how Aine talks like she’s the only person to ever get sad in episode 1 but still telling Aine she’s fine and then in episode 6 Shona saying she only has two emotions or whatever so she doesn’t need to talk to Aine about her feelings as much -____- istg we need to get Shona to talk to a therapist in season 3!!!

I also liked that Shona, Aine, and Eileen talked more. I’m still a little disappointed that the fact Eileen leaving Shona for three months when she was a baby was not mentioned at all. Yeah it was a secret but when Eileen said “well, you should never lie. You’ll always get caught out.” I— HELLO? If anything, that secret seeing daylight could have had something to do with Shona's sadness + loneliness this season. Also could you imagine that becoming a fear of Shona’s, like what if she doesn’t want kids because she’s afraid of doing the same thing to hers if she has any??

Jim asking Charlotte if she’s straight and Shona immediately going “what does that have to do with anything” or something like that and apologizing to Charlotte after Jim left— I’m not sure how I should have read that??? Did Shona mention to Jim that Charlotte is a lesbian?? When he started to ask, he was still looking at Shona (yeah I’m reading too much into this I know)

Marcia figuring out that Aine and Richard were seeing each other (after he touched her hand on his way out to get a taxi)— what was the purpose? Other than Marcia obviously feeling bad for Etienne, whom I assume she sees as a son of her own (based on the Mom Instinct™ snooping when she was doing housekeeping + her convo with Aine when he came back from France). She didn’t talk to either Aine or Richard about it, just told Aine to have a good time when they were leaving the house to go to their “separate” events. I guess it wasn't her place to say anything, but hm. Speaking of Etienne, it was obvious he had a schoolboy crush on Aine (or at least he was vying for her attention) in season 1 and it’s really too bad we didn’t get to see his reaction to suddenly getting a new tutor or dealing with Aine and Richard’s relationship other than him looking at them hugging while the new tutor was teaching him. He deserved some more screen time this season :(

Hmm so that was all very incoherent but if you made it this far thank youuu <3 here are some last silly comments:

Absolutely loved Julie!! I want to know what she knows about Charlotte and Shona 👀 girl give me the scoop on the last 4 months at the office

Super sad we didn’t get to see Charlotte’s cat (I’m always gonna be vocal about this 🗣🗣🗣) or know who her new girlfriend was but at the very least we were introduced to one of the most important side characters of all: Charlotte’s stompy boots <33333 she really wore those around the office with a blazer/blouse/leather skirt! We love that lesbian attire

#aka me: grasping for straws #also hulu changed the description for episode 6. interesting #this way up spoilers #this way up #spoilers #my post #k.txt #this is so long i'm sorry

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Can you really determine height and weight and spinal curvature with a foot like Dr. Robotnik claims he did like in the movie?

Great question!

You can determine height, weight, and curvature of the spine by studying a footprint, along with a few other things as well! Lots of forensic anthropologists do this in their line of work. (I do feel the need to make this note: I am an Art Historian and a Cultural Anthropologist, I know the basics of forensic anthropology due to my introduction course to the subject).

Now, the reason why this question took forever to answer was because I, myself, was trying to figure out Sonic’s height, weight, and spinal curvature.

(These were the best and the most HD/Clear images that I could find of the infrared scan of Sonic’s foot, as well as Sonic himself).

Looking at this, we can determine:

Flat arch in the foot:

The flesh/muscles surrounding the phalanges and metatarsal bones are flat, implying that he runs toe-to-heel first instead of heel-to-toe.

Flat arches in the feet show that a person, or in this case an alien-hedgehog, is on their feet all the time. (We can see from the photo in the introduction).

This also shows that he’s athletic, but we already knew that😅.

When he isn’t running toe-to-heel, he actually stomps his foot instead of allowing the foot to naturally glide and plant firmly into the ground.

(The GIF is my example of him stomping/running in his Gremlin shoes).

When he gets his PUMA Dare shoes, the way that he runs changes to heel-to-toe.

THIS IS BEFORE HE GETS PUMA DARE SHOES, AFTER GETTING THEM HIS RUNNING IMPROVES.

He’s got bad posture:

It’s bad, but not as bad as you think. The white line is his spine, the blue are the other types of spinal curvatures of animals and human beings.

The white is his spine now, but the reds lines are predictions of what his spine COULD be if he doesn’t fix his habit. (That is how I seem to be interpreting it).

He stands with his ankles and his feet as a means of support rather than allowing his spine and legs to support his posture, which can be seen down below:

(Best example that I could find of him full bodied and displaying his stance. If anyone else has a fantastic photo for me to use for this example, please let me know! I will update).

He stands with his knees bent more to keep him upright rather than them being relaxed and standing properly.

He stands with his stomach and his chest puffed out, which makes the spine form into a “Lazy S, close to a C” rather than it being a strong “S” shape.

Very similar to a “sway-like spine.”

Yoga with Pretzel Lady can help him feel better, as well as daily stretching and working with the muscles in his legs.

His feet are, actually, hurting him... could be more than what he lets on to Jojo:

That’s due to the nature of his poorly made Gremlin/Hobo shoes.

Poor conditions of shoes could, and will in the future, lead for foot, ankle, femur, spinal, and hip problems... which is why he stands the way he does in the movie.

When he isn’t running, he really should be wearing compression-based socks, as well as slippers.

(I just wanted to share a photo of his shoes, I love that one has Velcro Straps while the other as shoe laces duct taped down).

Sonic weighs around sixty pounds:

Later on it was confirmed to be exactly sixty-two pounds.

Sonic himself said it in an interview here.

(And he’s a natural blue, but that’s a bit off topic here😂).

Sonic is around 2"5 to 2"7 feet tall:

That’s the equivalent to being 0.6 metres tall!

You must measure from largest toe to heel in order to get the height! (Source!)

(This technique in the article that I put in the “Source” tab can also be used to find the shoe size of a kid as they’re growing up).

Another way of measuring his height would be his stride that he takes when he walks. You can measure that from the tip of the toes to the back heel of the foot.

He’s smaller than Modern!Sonic, but taller than Classic!Sonic... SMOL BOY...

(Another note, as of April 2020, there has yet to be any further resources stating his height. I know, I’ve checked several times before making this post).

And that, my friend, is what I have determined from studying his foot characteristics!

Now, if you don’t like the analysis that I’ve presented, I can present you with another idea.

This one involves with us looking at the dog cage that Sonic was placed in when he was unconscious.

I’m assuming here that Ozzy is between 23-24 inches tall, 26-28 inches long. Normally a dog of that size will need to be in a dog cage that is roughly 28 inches by 30 inches. We can see that Sonic himself is almost 30 to 32 inches tall anyhow. It’s pretty basic, but it gives a visual idea of how tall he is.

Now, I know what you’re gonna ask me: “here’s an idea! Why can’t we just use the baseball bat that Sonic plays with to get his arm length and then calculate his height that way?”

Great question!

In short, you can’t. The kids that play on the team are much taller than him. The human children that play the game are a good couple of feet taller than our lovable space creature.

Also, if you look at the baseball bat itself, Sonic struggles a bit to hold onto it. It’s too big for him to play with. In order to find a perfect fitting baseball bat, you measure an arm length from your heart to the tip of your middle finger to find a bat that would be comfortable to play with. Getting a measurement that way wouldn’t work. The bat itself looks to be around for kids between the ages of 10-12 and a height of 4 feet(1.2 metres) to 5 feet (1.5 metres) tall.

So, as always, I hope that this answers your question! This was fun to do!😊

(Thank you @movie-robotnik-positivity and @the-brucest-fan and @indieblitz for supplying me photos and proofreading my stuff! You all are wonderful!❤️).

#Mystery Anon #I'm an art historian and I have a minor in anthropology #You actually learn this in your general anthology class😁 #To put bluntly he's baby sized #A little baby that's two feet seven inches tall #Sixty two pounds #And bad posture #😁😂

[heyheydidjaknow]

Can I have a lighthearted chapter? No, I cannot. Can I upload at the due date? Also no. But you can always count on me to make characters suffer. I would say that I'm sorry, but then I would be a liar.

Chapter 8

“Will you shut up?”

Donatello looks up from his computer. “Huh?”

Raphael’s eyes do not leave his magazine. “You’ve been muttering under your breath for the past hour and it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“You’ll live.”

“You won’t for long if you don’t cut that shit out.”

He sighs. “Are you ever content with just leaving me be?”

“As your brother? No.” He sets the article down. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Usually, I could not care less, but you wreck enough shit without the added benefit of being distracted.”

He looks back at the screen. “So, I’m a ticking time bomb to you?”

“Yes.”

He looks back at the screen as he tries to think of how to answer. “It’s just that…”

“Oh, wait, don’t tell me.” He smirks. “You’re all depressed because your girlfriend has a life.”

He goes red. “I don’t care if—she’s not my girlfriend, first of all.” His voice rises.

“Sure, sure.” He stretches. “You know, typically, girls aren’t into guys who obsess over them.”

“Look, I’m worried about her!” He sets the computer down.

He blinks. “Why?”

“Are you kidding?” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “She killed a man!”

“Yeah,” he nods, “and I’m pissed I wasn’t the one to do it. What’s your point?”

“True,” he smiles cooly. “What you fail to consider, however, is that the rest of us aren’t psychotic.”

“I’m hurt.” He places his hand on his chest. “I will have you know that I’m definitely sane.”

“See, this is why nobody comes to you about their problems.” He leans his head back. “You ask why I’m down, and you immediately give me a hard time.”

They both turn their heads toward the entrance as their two other brothers walk back into the lair.

“How’d it go?” Raph gets up to meet them.

“You didn’t miss anything.” Leo sits down next to Donnie, glancing at his laptop before staring at the empty television screen. “Nobody was there.”

“Really?” Donnie’s eyes tear away from his computer screen. “Nobody?”

“Man, it was weird.” Michelangelo stays standing. “It was, like, two bots and then nothin’.”

“That is incredibly suspicious.” The tallest brother saves his work. “You used the stuff, right?”

“Worked like a charm.” Leonardo stretches. “So, what’d we miss?”

“Donnie bitching about not talking to his girlfriend for a whole week.”

“Can it,” he hisses.

“Donnie,” his brother speaks from next to him, “I’m sure that Y/N is perfectly fine. If you’re worried about her, you can and should go check on her.”

He groans. “If it were that simple, I would’ve done that by now.” He holds his head. “But what would I even say?”

He sighs, “I’m not going to say the same thing every time.” He gets up. “Mikey, you try. I’m going to go meditate if anyone wants to join.”

“Hey!” Mikey sticks his tongue out at him. “How come I have to do it?”

“Because Raphael is as cuddly as an eel.”

Raph glares. “Do you wanna go right now?”

“See?” He walks off. “And I did it last time. Your turn.” They hear the doors to the dojo slide closed behind him.

Mikey sits down in Leo’s spot. “If you want,” he offers as his brother walks off to the dojo, “I can try talking to her.”

“Would you?” He sighs. “I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

“For sure, man.” He gives him a thumbs up. “What are brothers for?”

“If you don’t make him do things,” Raphael warns, “he’s never going to learn to do them.”

“Man, he’s our bro.” He wraps an arm around his neck. “You can’t just leave your bro out to dry.”

“The hell I can’t.” He gets to his feet. “You guys have fun with that. I’ll be in my room.” He walks off, taking his pet turtle with him.

“Don’t listen to him.” He shoots his brother a thumbs up. “I’m sure everything will work out.” Mikey hopped to his feet. “Be back in a bit.” He waved, running out of the lair. “I’ll be back in ten.”

--

The look on his face is less than reassuring.

“Well?” Donatello, who has been checking the time religiously, is sitting at the door like a dog waiting for his owner. “How did it go?”

He smiles tightly. “I have good news and bad news.”

He groans, holding his head in his hands. “Just tell me.”

“Well,” he says hesitantly, crouching down in front of him, “she’s not dead.”

“That isn’t exactly a high bar to hurdle.” He takes a deep breath. “What’s the bad news?”

He pauses. “She’s… freaked out.”

“On a scale of one to ten,” he asks slowly, “with one being—”

“Nine.” His younger brother nods certainly. “At least a nine.”

He stands up. “I should go check on her.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to do.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I think I made things worse, actually.”

“What else is new?” He runs out. “Tell Leo I’m going out,” he calls over his shoulder. He does not wait for a reply.

He does not blame himself entirely for the events currently happening; he is well aware that her inclusion into their mess was not willed by him. However, a part of him can not shake the belief that he and his brothers have, by virtue of their lifestyle, caused her more pain than he had ever wanted. A part of him, still, believes that he or someone else should have bitten the bullet; of them, you should be the last person in line to murder.

‘I should’ve said something, done something.’

He lands down on your roof, starting to scale down the building. You have left your window open: he can see your floral curtains fluttering in the autumn breeze. Artificial light streams from your apartment as soft music plays from inside. He lands on your windowsill carefully, reaching in past the curtains to knock on your wall. “Y/N?”

He hears the music shut off the shuffling of bedsheets, three steps. You pull the curtain open.

You have not slept in a week. You have continued to go to school, scared as to what would happen if you did not, but you have not eaten or drank in a while either; more accurately, nothing has stayed down. You have contributed these things, easily, to the newly introduced variety in your nightmares. You wonder, now, if seeing his body would have been such a bad thing; your head has conjured up every possible position he might have fallen in, anyhow. At least, if you knew, you would only have one image torturing you as opposed to the seemingly different variations your head could come up with.

Donnie is not a psychologist. He has never been able to fully grasp the subject as much as the others in the scientific field; all of medicine, for that matter, has, regrettably, been hard for him to wrap his head around, what with how different he and his brother are from humans, physiologically. His master was the closest he had to an actual human until you had shown up, but he was hardly exemplary of your typical human. However, be it by what knowledge he does have or by the way you hold yourself, he can easily tell you are off. The color in your face is gone, the bags under your eyes larger than he has ever seen them on you, and every move seems oddly sluggish to him.

“Oh, hey.” You smile tiredly. “If you’re here about Michelangelo, he was just here a few minutes ago.”

“I’m not.” He climbs inside. “He got back to the lair ten or so minutes ago. Are you alright?”

Your eyes are flooded with black for a moment, a wave of numb pain and vertigo washing over you as you spread your stance slightly, not wanting to trip over your own feet. You hold your face in your hand as you steady yourself. “Totally.” You wince as you nodded. ‘Let’s not move our head more than we need to.’

Years of attentiveness and common sense tell him that you are blatantly lying. “What happened?”

“Huh?” You close your eyes. “Oh, nothin.” You take a couple steps back, slowly sitting back down on the bed, which was covered in packets. “Please,” you insist, “make yourself comfortable.”

He shuts the curtains, crouching down in front of you to look your features over more closely as he tries to identify what, exactly, is wrong with you. “Am I allowed to touch you?”

You look down at him from your seat. “I mean,” you sigh, “you _can_, if you want. Just not anywhere a general physician wouldn’t touch, alright?” You give him a half-hearted thumbs up. “I trust you to know where you can and can’t put your hands.” You highly doubt that he has any bad intentions, really, but you want to make your intentions clear.

“O-oh, of course,” he nods quickly. “I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t—well, not that you wouldn’t—” his face went red. “I-I mean—”

“Dude, relax.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Take a deep breath or I’m gonna the wrong idea.”

He does “S-sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “That was weird.”

“You’re all good.”

He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” he notes, still red in the face. “Did you eat anything you normally wouldn’t?”

You give him a thumbs down. “I’ve only had soup. Do you want some?”

He blinks. “Soup?”

“Yeah.” You look back at the kitchen, where a pot of soup is sitting on the counter. “Ran out of leftovers a couple days ago.”

His eyes widen. “Days?”

You nod, wincing as you feel your brain pounding against your skull. “Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s been hard to keep things down. Glad I ran out, actually; I think I got a—”

He cuts you off. “How many days do you take between meals?”

You pause. “Now?” You shrug. “One meal every day or two.”

“Day or two?”

“Again,” you repeat, very confused as to why he looks as though he is about to have a heart attack right then and there, “it’s been hard keeping stuff down lately.”

“How are you not dead?”

You blink. “I beg your pardon?”

His voice rises as his speech sped up. “How many cups of that do you eat in a sitting?”

You sit up properly. “Maybe three or four and a couple pieces of toast?”

He looks about ready to pass out. “Are you insane,” he cries, an octave higher than usual.

You cover his mouth with your hand. “Shut up,” you hiss. “You’re gonna wake my neighbors up.”

He stops talking, grabbing your hand and pulling it off his mouth. He gets up, muttering something about being ridiculous as he pours you an unusually large bowl of soup and placing it in your lap. “Eat.” He stands there, glaring at you pointedly.

You are, admittedly, surprised by his icy, commanding tone. You do as instructed. “You act as though I’ve poisoned myself,” you point out between bites. “It won’t kill me, you know.”

“I’m not a licensed dietitian,” he informs you, clearly upset, “but the recommended caloric intake for a woman is approximately four thousand calories—”

“That’s wrong.” You are already halfway through the bowl. “It’s two.”

“Do you seriously want to get into a debate on something science-related right now?” You are genuinely scared by his expression; every word sounds oddly lethal, as if they themselves could kill you.

You swallow, standing your ground. “We can look it up, if you want,” you offer. “I know for a fact I’m… right…”

He has glared directly at you. It almost shuts you up.

You quietly eat the rest of the bowl. You set your spoon down with a gentle clatter, clearing your throat as you try to ignore the way he was staring at you as if he were trying to dissect you with his eyes. “Done.” You showed him the empty bowl.

“You genuinely see nothing wrong with your dietary choices?”

You shake your head, immediately regretting it. “I know it’s unhealthy, but not to the same degree you seem to think it is.”

“And you honestly believe that you only need to eat two thousand calories to be healthy?” His tone was softer now, likely in reaction to how quickly you had recoiled.

You nod hesitantly, ignoring the way your head pounds.

He pauses. “We’ll talk about that later,” he decides. “For now, I have to ask: why can’t you keep food down, exactly?”

You lean back, placing the bowl on the nightstand. You stay like that, closing your eyes. “I just keep seeing it,” you explain simply. “Hearing it, too; it’s kinda like tasting really bad and then having the aftertaste stuck on your tongue, but for memories. Or like doing something embarrassing and, every once and awhile, having something happen to remind you of it.”

“It? Oh.” As soon as he says the words out loud, he knows what you are referring to.

“Yup.” You pop the P. “I dunno if you knew, but it doesn’t splat.”

A heavy silence smothers you both, despite the sounds of the city.

You feel the bed shift. Your eyes glance over at the man lying next to you, hands folded across his stomach as he stares at the ceiling.

“I honestly don’t know what to say.” He sighs. "I wish I knew how to do right by you.”

“You don’t have to—”

He cuts you off. “I want to, though.” He rubs his face with his hand. “I want to be able to invent something that makes things easier for you, to keep you from getting hurt.”

“Dude, it’s fine.” You punch his arm lightly. “I’ll be fine, eventually. Just not right now.” You smile weakly. “But, hey? At least my dreams have a bit of variety, right?”

“Dreams?”

You chuckle tightly. “It turns out my head is rather creative when it comes to ways the body can bend. I almost wish I had seen the bodies; then they could all be consistent.”

He groans. “See, it’s stuff like that that makes me feel bad about not being able—not that it’s your fault,” he back peddles. “I just—”

“Stop stressing so much,” you cut him off. “That’s my job. Don’t put yourself into a tizzy on my account.”

“How could I not?” He threw his hands up in the air. “I care about you, Y/N. I’m obviously going to care if you’re alright.”

You pause. “My mental stability should be the least of your concerns right now, what with Shredder and all.” You close your eyes. “The only reason he hasn’t beaten you and your brothers within an inch of your lives is that I knew where he’d be when. All things considered,” you roll over to face him, “my having bad nightmares is a small price to pay.”

Another silence.

You sigh. “You should probably get going.” You pull yourself onto your elbows, leaning forward onto your knees. “I gotta stake out Shredder’s lair tomorrow so you guys know when to come in.”

He sits up next to you. “Y/N, I—”

“You should stop worrying so much, alright?” You smile gently. “I have some sleep meds if your dad needs them.”

He opens his mouth to say something, pauses, closes it again. “Alright.” He stands up. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“You didn’t.” He didn’t.

He stops in his tracks.

You rest your head on your legs. “Yeah?”

“Will we see you tomorrow?”

You purse your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ll definitely call you, though; it’ll be something of a feat to hijack a hijacked chemical truck.”

He looks back at you. “Please, be safe.”

You nod.

“Eat, too.”

You nod again.

“And drink?”

You roll your eyes teasingly. “Yeah, Dad, I’ll eat.”

His face flushes again. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You got it, buddy.”

You look so small.

‘I did that.’

He climbs onto the windowsill, hesitating to leave. “Goodnight.”

You wave lazily. “Goodnight, Donatello.”

He climbs out of your apartment.

You wait a minute or two before you close and lock your window. You pull the curtains shut properly behind him, walking back to the kitchen to put the food away.

You sigh, doleful. “Sorry.”

--

You were maybe thirteen years old. It feels like longer, but you were most certainly in middle school

Driving home after school one day, you had stared out the window, the radio playing something you half paid attention to. You don’t remember, now, what prompted the conversation—you figure it was some sort of assembly you had mentioned—but, somehow, the question of what to do if you were tied up in the back of someone’s car had been brought up. This was not an unusual line of conversation, considering your family’s conviction that you would be kidnapped someday, but you remember it specifically because, after he brought it up, you had run the scenario over in your head what felt like a thousand times.

“It depends on where you are in the car,” he had said. “If you’re in the back seat, you have to reach forward and try to choke the driver out, if you can’t get the doors open.”

“And if I’m in the front?”

“Ram your body against his. Get a hold of the wheel and swerve the car.

The line of thinking had confused you. “But,” you countered, “then the car would crash; we would both get hurt.”

“You have a better chance of surviving a car crash than whatever would happen to you once you get to wherever you’re going.”

You two had not spoken for the rest of the drive.

Now, you stare ahead at the road, eyes occasionally glancing at the man in the driver’s seat as you try to come up with a plan. You wish, now, that you had gone with your initial instinct to call instead of sending Leonardo a text message; who knows when he will get it?

“I feel almost sorry for you,” the man sneers. “You would be better off getting killed in the explosion than what’s going to happen to you.”

You say nothing.

“Hey?” He barks out a laugh. “You’ll get to see what happens to them.” He sighs happily. “I can see it now. The smoke, the fire, the smell.”

You eye the door. ‘Locked. Shit.’

“Those freaks won’t know what hit them.” He leans forward, staring at the truck in front of them. “Shouldn’t have messed with us if they didn’t want to meet their maker.”

‘Could I even survive it?’

“You know somethin’, kid?” He grips the wheel tighter. “I gotta give ya some respect; not a ton of kids would’ve come this far. Personally,” he shrugs, “I would’ve killed you right then, but Shredder wants more out of ya, apparently.”

‘Would he?’ You shift your feet to your right.

“I’ll thank you for one thing, though; I was getting sick of that pompous asshole.”

‘I just gotta get his hands away from the wheel. There are people in the back of this van. They’d survive, right?’ You fight to keep your breathing steady.

“For someone who hangs with those freaks, you ain't slick, hangin on the street corner.”

‘They’re ninjas. I gotta believe they’d be fine.’ You shut your eyes, stealing yourself.

“How you got Bradford is be—hey!”

You slammed your torso against him, eyes squeezed shut.

“What are you, fucking suicidal?” He yelled, trying to push you off.

You pull away, slamming one foot against his cheek and stuck the other into the wheel. You hear honking as you desperately bang your foot into what you pray is his body. You feel the car speed up as he screams obscenities at you. You force the wheel away from you as hard as you can.

The next few moments are a blizzard of broken glass, voices, and blackness as the metal deathtrap tries to shake the life out of both of you.

You figure that you must have passed out a second, for the next thing you remember is the smell of gasoline.

Your eyes snap open. You look over at the man stuck half out the window. You reach back, trembling hands fumbling with the buckle strapping yourself in. You slam yourself against the front window as you hear it click open. You use your arms to pull yourself through the hole, the rope slicing against a stray piece of broken glass.

Your head is spinning. The only thought currently on your mind is to get away from the car.

For some reason, you find yourself unable to stand. You, instead, crawl, dragging your body desperately away from the wreckage. You do not feel yourself doing it, ignoring the glass shards sticking themselves into your palms and under your nails, the way they slashed into your stomach and sides as you drag yourself over them completely irrelevant as you claw towards the sidewalk.

You hear the explosion.

You pull yourself into an alley, waiting for the ringing in your ears to stop as you hear the conflict happening a few blocks down. You swallow your vomit as you stare forward blankly, the smell of smoke filling your nostrils.

Another.

You fall forward, tears filling your eyes as the pain settles in. You do not know what happened to your legs, only knowing for sure that they could not and would not support your weight. Every muscle and every tendon is vibrating. Your hair sticks to your body as your clothes soak in some sort of warm liquid.

You do not like that smell.

‘Why is everything spinning?’

You hear yelling, the screeching of wheels against asphalt.

‘I’m going to die.’

The sentence repeats in your head over and over again as you lay there in the alleyway.

‘I’m going to die here.’

You do not know why you are shaking right now.

‘I don’t want to die here. Not now.’

“Help,” you beg. “Please, God.” You feel a sob rise in your throat. “I don’t… wanna…”

You hear screaming.

“Help,” you breathe.

You black out.

Table of Contents

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt donatello #tmnt x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #donnie x reader #2012 donnie #donnie #donatello x reader #donatello #gore #blood #glass #broken glass #car #car wreck #possible character death #major character injury #major character death #teenager #soup

[sepublic]

Ant-Watching

           Y’all ever watch ants?

           That’s what I just did. I came back from running an errand for someone else, and I decided to go visit my local gas station, right near where I live, just to see if there was anything I wanted to pick up. But, my attention was quickly piqued by a long line of ants, strewn across the sidewalk surrounding the gas station. I was of course intrigued, and tracked them from one end up the brick wall of the gas station, and into the tiniest possible hole there. I’m not sure where the hole led, it seemed so tiny, and I’m not sure how such a small, precise little tunnel could form in the seams between the bricks, leading all the way into wherever it was, within the gas station.

           Tracing the other end of the line, I saw the familiarly-textured dirt of an ant colony, nestled within beneath the local, obligatory bush placed next to the parking spaces. I’ve gotta admit, I have to hand it to whichever Queen Ant established this colony, she chose the perfect spot… Or not. Being directly next to a gas station, in the patch of dirt and shrubbery as close as possible to it, that’s an amazing source of endless, reliable food right for this colony, so close and convenient!

           On the other hand, I could see the proximity to the gas station leading to the colony having an exterminator called upon it. I’d be sad to see it go, but alas, such is life. Ants keep making do regardless. I wonder what happens to ants who survive the destruction of their colony, the eradication of their queen- Do they just blindly wander until they starve to death? If you introduced an ant to a new colony, would that colony accept, or instead reject and kill, the poor little creature?

           I went inside the gas station, did some snooping. I couldn’t find where the ants were, but if I had to guess, directly on the other side of the wall they were crawling into; There was a countertop with a trash area underneath. Is this where the ants were getting their loot- Some small tunnel outside, leading directly into the inside of this dark cubby where all of the trash and food was dumped? Either way, it was such a jackpot for them, I felt weirdly proud of them despite having nothing to do with it.

           I went back outside, and I noticed on my way back to the line, bristling and bustling with ants crossing by one another in opposite directions, that there was a dead bug. Quite a bit away from the line of ants, it was the dessicated corpse of… A cockroach? A beetle? I wasn’t sure what. Regardless, I wondered if the ants could make use of it; Or if they already had, the corpse seemed not much more than empty, chitinous shell, which might’ve been too hardy for the ants to break apart. Or, maybe they hadn’t bothered because it was too far away…

           To test my theory –because I honestly didn’t care if people were watching, I was allowed to do what I wanted, and as corny as it may sound, I think Dana Terrace and The Owl House helped me develop the bravery to be as weird as I wanted in public, and it’s enriched my day greatly for it- I skidded and lightly kicked the dead bug, all the way to the ant line. And, success! They seemed attracted to it, and next thing I knew the bug was bristling with shiny little ants; I’d accidentally overturned it while moving the dead bug, and exposed its much softer underbelly, ripe for the taking and picking! Now I felt proud, and this time it felt earned because I DID contribute, I did help with something the ants couldn’t have done on their own! I did good.

           So, I’m getting a bit existential about the life of ants. How it’s all long, thankless, endless work, as they drag food back, go on an arduous trek that for us giants, is just a few steps. Rinse, repeat, help feed the young, and so forth; Survive, but for what purpose? There is no downtime. Such is life, it’s interesting how we developed from just basic propagation, to really enjoying the fruit of existence; But only after we ensured it’d last, that we had reliable stuff to keep going on through. In the meantime, I decided to go back to the brick wall. There was another, tiny little hole, and I could see what looked like the tiniest little… egg shell? It was a shell of some sorts, gradually being dragged through, as if unclogging this second hole.

           I was half-tempted to help the ants with it, but I decided not to interfere, in case I did something wrong, or if I misunderstood what they were getting at. But, I later checked, and indeed they had dislodged it, and were now moving down the length of the wall with it! It was a roly-poly shell, I wonder what killed it- The ants, its own natural lifespan? But as I checked, I noticed this one particular ant, hauling a crumb of food bigger than the others I’d seen. While other ants returned from the gas station with tiny little beadlets of food, this ant had a larger, misshapen, yellow-ish grain of something. I wasn’t sure what, but it seemed an arduous and difficult task to handle it, to get it down the side of a vertical brick face.

           But, when I checked on the ant again- It succeeded! It was on the ground, scooting the grain, one gradual, agonizing millimeter at a time. I turned back to the dead bug, thought about helping the ants by pushing it all the way, right next to their nest; I grabbed a dead stick nearby that seemed sufficient, and for a moment I reveled in the power I had. I was no longer a child who’d be grabbed along by my parent and told not to mess around- I had the freedom and autonomy to observe insects, however I wanted! So I used the dead chip of wood to try and scoot the dead bug along…

           Alas, the wind came and it scooted it past the ant line, back upright. I tried again to scoot the dead bug back to its trajectory, but then some ants crawled up the stick, and onto my hand! I panicked for a bit, I think one might’ve bit me… But I brushed them aside. Eventually I settled for righting my previous wrong, by overturning the bug and returning it back to the line; I’d just settle for that, for now. No time for ambitious projects on behalf of the ants…

           Though, I DID consider buying just a little bit of food, and maybe scattering a piece or two by their nest, to see what the ants did with it! Ant feeding… Imagine that, like throwing bread crumbs to the pigeons, except I’m throwing tiny scraps of food to ants, diligently tearing apart and working, hauling, etc. Breaking it down bit by bit to divide the work, the power of infinitesimal hands amounting to something huge! I ultimately didn’t buy anything, alas, but it’s a fun thought, and I might try it another day and opportunity.

           Anyhow, I watched the ant struggle with its lone yellow grain; Somehow, likely because of the wind, it had gotten separated from the line, its grain moved away. I felt some compassion, and I grabbed another tiny dead stick-chip, and pushed it back to the line; This was much more successful, and the ant began moving the grain along the line, once more. I kept watching, and got tired of crouching upon the balls of my feet, so I just went F it, and sat down onto the concrete.

          THAT was much more relaxing, and for a while I enjoyed and watched and marveled, mesmerized at the coordination and moving patterns of it all, the shiny ants, how some had tiny little beads in their mandibles, etc. At one point I looked back along the line, closer to the nest, and I saw a tiny roly-poly, a living one; Nearby, stumbling across. In morbid fascination, I checked to see what would happen; Would the ants pursue and harass it, or was the reliable source of inanimate food, more preferable than taking on live prey?

           Thankfully, despite bumping into the ants at the line, the roly-poly was unscathed and ignored. It departed from the line, and headed elsewhere along the patch of dirt where the shrubs grew, the patch where on the edge dwelled the ant colony. I turned my attention back to the ant with its large grain. By this point, I was used to the hot sun beating down on me, but it wasn’t unbearable, and I felt gratitude for the brief periods of cloudiness and shade. Agonizingly, I watched the ant make its progress…

           At one point, it actually veered off-course, as these ants seem wanton to do, for some reason. I couldn’t let that happen again, so I grabbed another of my dead, discarded sticks –the ants ignored the cellulose they seemed unable to work with- and pushed it back on course. To my delight, the ant kept working, and I internally cheered as it pushed the grain up the slope of the driveway, surprisingly more easily than I’d anticipated, and much faster too! At one point, a kind passerby asked if I had a flat tire; To him, it must’ve looked like I was staring at the tire of the car parked in the space right next to the colony, as the ant line passed nearby. I said no, and he went on his way.

           The whole time, some other people went on their way, passing near me. Nobody stopped to look or notice, at least as far as I could tell; I was much too engrossed in these ants. I’m glad nobody stopped to bother or harass me for it. Eventually, the lone ant began transporting the grain into the final stretch, in the seams between the blocks of concrete, right before the colony itself! There were points where it seemed like other ants were helping with the burden, perhaps other ants took over for the original. I thought about how this lone ant likely went through all of this effort, took it upon itself without any thought, and would get no recognition for it.

           It didn’t think about it, it just did it; It saw something to be carried and worked with it, no thought about how hard it was, no consideration of letting someone else do it. It found something and grabbed it and moved! Marvelous. The ants kept moving the grain, at one point I lost it beneath a wood chip wedged in the concrete, but the ants succeeded in moving the grain past the chip, beneath and over as needed. Finally, right before the grain reached the colony, right before it arrived at the entrance to be dropped down, I hastily took a photo;

           And at the last possible second! I’d fumbled with the perspective, zoomed in, tried to figure out where my camera was looking at, before re-orienting and focusing on where the ant and its grain were, and finding it. I’d planned this for a while, a victory photo for when the grain had reached the colony, and I’d barely snapped my picture before the grain dropped in, out of view! I felt oddly triumphant; But then again, I HAD contributed, hadn’t I? I felt proud of these ants, of the ant- They’d finally done it! This long, agonizing work… The grain would make good feeding for the young and everyone else.

           And then, likely- The ants just went on! They went right back to work, always focused in the now. Never wondering, never questioning, such a simple existence. No higher thought nor reason besides doing what needed to be done, no particular selfishness, no shirking of the work, they just did it. It was almost robotic, although I knew that ants didn’t have any actual hive minds; They merely coordinated well. As one person said, if a giant watched us humans work and collaborate together, WE’d look like the hive mind! I’d sat and watched for a while, taking different positions, sitting and crouching and kneeling in various ways; But after faithfully, diligently watching this one particular task and its undertaking, more or less the whole way through, until it was finally finished…

           Well, I felt finished myself! And so I headed inside the nearby dollar store to cool down with its AC, near the frozen section, before getting back into my car, and heading home- Where I’ve since sat down to type this all out. I dunno, something about watching the ants in nature… It just gets to me, I think I ended up kinning a couple of ants along the way. Very wondrous stuff, and time really passed by; It was so much more fun, engaging, and unique, than what I usually did to pass the day along, whenever I drove out. 10/10, would do it again, Ants are wonderful and would recommend!

#ants #ant colony #ant #ramblings #anecdote #story time

[johannesviii]

So I guess I’m hyperfixating on Death Stranding at the moment

And since I’ve finally finished the story after playing it for like 100 hours over the course of seven months or so I guess I have Opinions(tm) about things I didn’t like in the game

They’re eating at my brain so I’m gonna put them all in a single post to get them out of my system once and for all so I can enjoy the rest in peace

Spoilers, obviously

Hi welcome back to ‘Johannes is obsessing over yet another video game with horror elements in it’! I guess!!

Our latest entry in that category was Until Dawn but since UD can be played in like 6/7 hours and I spent 100 hours of my life on DS, as you can guess we’re talking about a full-blown hyperfixation, the kind that physically hurts because I can’t focus on anything else even after having finished the storyline

But it was super gradual. Again, seven months. I barely made any progress from December to May because I was only doing side-deliveries at the beginning of Chapter 3 instead of... you know... advancing the plot. It became an honest-to-god special interest about two months ago, then 6 days ago while playing chapter 10 it reached hyperfixation levels and now I am in PAIN

I hate my brain

Anyhow

At first I wanted to list the good and the bad hings in it but there’s too many good things to list them all in full, excruciatingly long details, so

Very Quick And Very Incomplete List Of Good Things That I Love

It’s a post-apo game based on travel, logistics, and good will, and it straight up goes AGAINST the whole ‘survival of the fittest’ trope that SO MANY post-apo things try to push!! YES

I insist but it’s built on helping each other and keeping everyone alive, seriously that is my shit right there!

The online community is wholesome?? People leave stuff everywhere, you never see anyone but people put little helpful signs and send you likes, and in my game we almost managed to repair all the roads together

There’s so many new & strange allergies and disabilities and phobias in this post-apo world and? nobody is trying to ““fix”“ anyone?? Like Heartman with his padded floor and his little box that brings him back to life constantly. He’s just... living like that. Nobody’s going “hey maybe you should get another heart operation buddy”

The hero and his phobia of being touched. I. Loved. That. The quiet scenes when he was just talking with Fragile, sitting next to her. In any other context this would just be two people sitting next to each other and talking but it always feels so soft and intimate everytime he allows another human being to just. be next to him. I love it. I love them

Everyone crying constantly because of chiral allergy!!

I loved all the important characters bar one (Bridget/Amelie)!

Why is this walking simulator so enjoyable why am I enjoying the fact that holding L2 + R2 while walking feels like holding your backpack and that you have to relax at times just like you’d have to if you were actually holding a backpack

Seriously. Why

The atmosphere was so great, the music was fantastic and the visuals were on point. A E S T H E T I C

The ghosts!! The giant Beached Things!!! Chiral crystals look! like! creepy hands reaching for the SKY!!

THE RAIN DESTROYS THINGS AND KILLS PEOPLE BY ACCELERATING TIME THIS IS SO COOL SHUT UP

Everytime the game got surreal it was electrifying

THE SURREAL WAR SCENES ON CLIFF’S BEACH

Everyone is using emojis

There’s guys addicted to delivering packages in that game and they’re trying to steal our stuff and we’re like “haha they’re dumb” but we’re basically addicted to delivering packages as the player. So yeah that was pretty fun

Terrorists thinking humanity isn’t going extinct fast enough and wanting to just rip the bandaid and speed things up. Simple but effective concept

People ask for SUPER VITAL ITEMS right next to completely trivial stuff and I’m LIVING for it. “Please fetch my toy dinosaur”. I feel you dude

The most isolated characters are like "LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS THING I LIKE" in your emails because they haven't had contact with other humans in years, it's super relatable

There’s a farm where people use the fact that Timefall rain accelerates time to grow food super quickly in one (1) Timefall and harvest everything just before it starts to die and I LOVE that detail of worldbuilding so much

YOU’RE FIGHTING BEACHED THINGS WITH YOUR OWN BODILY FLUIDS IT’S SO STUPID BUT ALSO SO COOL?? I love yeet-ing my own blood at eldritch entities

THE T W I S T S

All the fanservice (bar one detail that I’m gonna complain about later) is on dudes. This game reeeeeeally likes to show dudes naked or somewhat naked. Mostly the main character but this mocap also L O V E S Mads Mikkelsen and there’s a shit ton of homoerotic shots in there

I love Sam the antisocial papa wolf delivery man and if someone touches him or his baby again, I will cry

LOU. LOU LOU LOU PRECIOUS BABY I’D DIE FOR YOU. Wait I did

I love Fragile and how brave she is and how she keeps helping people even if most of them wrongly think she’s a terrorist and yes I will eat this cryptobiote thank you

I love soft science boi Heartman who keeps dying again and again and is a bit too much interested in bodily fluids

I love garbage man Higgs and how complex, funny and still somewhat tragic this memelord actually turned out to be in the end

Seriously I want to stop fixating on this character but you can’t give me YET ANOTHER character who wants to die but at the hands of someone else, that is unfair to do that right after my fixation on the new Doctor Who Master

So yeah Higgs is yet another character who makes me want to grab him by the lapels and shake him and yell WHY! ARE! YOU! LIKE! THIS! STOP! BEING! LIKE! THIS!!

Cliff broke all three of my feelings beautifully and in excruciatingly well-acted scenes that transcended the sometimes lackluster dialogue

John made me cry during That Scene

Mama your background was tragic and terrifying and you didn’t deserve any of this shit and I love you

Deadman was more funny than anything, really, but I still liked him even if he had no sense of personal space whatsoever and it clashed horribly with Sam’s phobias

The ending had some sad parts but was mostly positive, thank goodness

Now I’m gonna explain things I dislike and this looks long but it’s actually only 5 main things so I bolded them to avoid confusion

Things I really disliked (and could have been handled wayyyy better)

We all know it but Kojima isn’t a master of subtlety and some parts of the dialogue kept repeating the same informations again and again AND AGAIN and I was like “ok ok I get it”

The dialogue can be so bad at times seriously

Kojima is a bad writer there I said it

It was particularly annoying with Amelie/Bridget and the fact she’s a horrible person trying (and failing) to justify her actions wasn’t helping

Bridges protocols are incredibly intrusive. All of them. I know it’s framed as bad and Sam hates being spied on all the time and in the end he destroys the device that does that, but I wish someone else would openly criticise it in-game

I guess Deadman sort of did but still

Also I know the whole BB technology was Bridget’s idea, and since she’s the actual villain it’s framed as a twisted, evil thing during the ending, but I wish that had been framed like that much earlier ; a lot of Bridges employees just... seem to accept the idea that their employer is using premature babies and their dead mothers as useful, if disturbing, devices. They seem to justify it by “uh we stole that technology from terrorists” to try to cope with the idea but... yeah.

I mean, one of the points being made very early on is that Sam sees his BB as his child who must be protected at all costs instead of a detection device, but I really wish he wasn’t the only one to object to that thing

Again, the game DOES frame "using babies and their dead mothers as tools” as evil and twisted, I just wish it was given a lot more weight and way sooner

Now let’s talk about the Token Straight(tm) in this game

In any other kind of context it would be a joke! But Death Stranding literally has a Token Straight Guy!

I mean, there IS a few hetero couples among the Preppers. Not a lot, mind you. Like, there’s the Montaineer and his wife for instance. But they’re just there and it’s not what their side plot is about

No I’m talking about this piece of shit right there

This f█cking Junk Dealer guy complains the girl he loves is dead because of Bridges and emotionally blackmails us by sending us old holograms of her before her supposed death (somewhat disturbing holograms too because she looks... pretty young in them), then he sends us on what’s essentially a suicide mission in a BT infested zone, THEN when we give him proof she’s still alive and living in another bunker nearby, he won’t go there himself to check??

But SHE’s like “ok, bring me to him, then!”

He doesn’t deserve you, girl

I’ve already seen several people pointing out that carrying a woman as cargo on your back is... debatable at best and sexist at worst, but that part didn’t really bother me to be honest? She asked to be carried to him and it’s her choice. She was talking to us the entire way too, so that made things a lot less awkward. Also Sam has this phobia of being touched by other people so I bet carrying another human being on his back isn’t fun for him. It was also super stressful to do, to be honest.

And then there’s this EXTREMELY AWKWARD scene when they’re reunited and decide to get married, and thankfully Sam finds it just as awkward as we do because he’s standing super far away from the bunker in a “can’t they talk about this later - I’m right there” way. And I’m under the impression it was intended as cringy, in a “yeppp young people in love are Like That” sort of way, so I can accept that, to be honest. If you don’t take that scene seriously, it’s pretty fun in, again, a cringy sort of way

BUT

Then you receive more emails later and this piece of shit guy complains about her and he’s like “ugh WOMEN” or “marriage is the worst” and they end up divorced in record time and she goes back to her bunker

Which isn’t my problem with this subplot either, I promise I’m gonna explain myself eventually but this context is important. It’s okay to have characters who are pieces of shit like this guy who reeks of incel cologne. It’s alright. Not every character has to be a role-model. It’s good to have characters you can hate.

BUT THEN they get back together later to try to patch things up and you learn he was part of a gang who murdered her parents even though he protected her against the rest of the gang and that’s what I hated about that storyline. I guess if you squint it can be read as “this woman is making REALLY BAD life choices” but I read it as “he saved her so she owes him something, he can’t be entirely bad” and y i k e s this left such a bad taste in my mouth, good lord.

But yeah miss Chiral Artist you’re making really bad life choices please get away from this dude as soon as you can, thank you

Also don’t do this ‘sending Likes’ pose ever again, it was hilarious but also you made me use the word “cringy” several times in this paragraph even though I absolutely hate cringe culture, look what you made me do

Now I have to talk about a scene that was intentionally disturbing as hell but ONE (1) detail in it was disturbing for the wrong reasons

To be honest, I really don’t like the Metal Gear Solid games and one of the reasons is the rampant sexism in them so I... was kind of bracing myself for Death Stranding and expecting it to have at least SOME really bad fanservice with a woman at one point or another but to my surprise?? There was none? All the fanservice is on dudes??? Hello? I really liked that (well at some point Fragile takes a shower in our room but we see literally nothing except her shoulder and then Sam looks away)?? What a refreshing change

THAT BEING SAID

And if you played the game you know exactly what I’m about to talk about

Yep this is the part where Johannes complains about how the bomb flashback was shot

Ok so I guess I should also give some context in case someone is reading this but hasn’t played the game, but the deal with this scene is that our friend Fragile was betrayed by her colleague Higgs who used to be a porter but became a terrorist after meeting the “main“ villain of the game. First he secretly put a thermonuclear bomb in one of her deliveries so she’d nuke an entire city without even knowing it, and everyone after that thought she was a terrorist. And then he tried to do that shit A SECOND TIME, but she noticed and decided to toss the second nuke into a bottomless lake of tar. But he caught her just before she reached the lake and he decided to give her a sadistic choice, which was “teleport away and the bomb stays there and nukes the city, or carry it to the lake but only in your underwear under this rain that speeds up time and it will do enormous damage to your health and your body”

And of course being the hero she is, she decides to take the second option

And it’s an incredibly disturbing scene and it’s genuinely hard to watch

But it’s also the ONLY time a woman is in her underwear in this entire game and there’s A COUPLE of shots that were male-gaze-y at the beginning before she started to run and the really horrific part started.

So in a way I guess it could have been worse? way worse, even

But it still tarnishes an otherwise disturbing (and harrowing at times ; seriously I know I’m oversensitive but it was physically painful to watch) scene with unnecessary shots

We know Fragile had a young body before this happened, this isn’t the point of this scene, guys

Whoever decided to keep these shots (probably Kojima let’s face it), that is bad and you should feel bad

Idk how to do a visual transition for that next one because I do not want to screen that memo

So here’s a screenshot with a nice landscape instead

tw: acephobia

Now I have to talk about something I like the GENERAL IDEA of, but not how the IN-GAME MATERIAL ABOUT IT was written

Because I have to talk about that “asexual world” memo

First I have to say that I absolutely love the fact that a mainstream game openly says in-game “this future is full of asexual people" and?? it’s just that, it’s a part of this world. That’s just how things are. It’s normalised. I love it. For crying out loud this memo has the word demisexual in it. I can’t think of any other mainstream game that had this word in it so far.

It should have stopped there and let me enjoy that in peace but it didn’t

THE MEMO ITSELF WAS CLEARLY WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THESE CONCEPTS and there’s some really bad stuff there. I’d say it’s accidental acephobia but it’s still there. I’m not the best person to talk about this because I’m bi, but it still rubbed me the wrong way

The words this memo uses near the beginning are “"sexless lifestyle” among young people” and yikes, my dude. “Lifestyle”, uh? Really?

And then it goes on about how these new labels were already more and more common “among young people before the Death Stranding” and it also rubs me the wrong way, in a “wow young people and their weird labels lol” sort of queerphobic way?

However I’ve seen a post pointing out that the line “One theory posits that the Stranding accelerated the proliferation of these sexualities” was maybe a way of saying ‘yo asexuals are causing the end of the world’ but... I don’t see it, tbh? In the context of the game, society is extremely divided and a lot of people live in complete isolation and social norms have heavily shifted and it’s kind of normal that there’s queer people visible everywhere now, aces included obviously, because nobody’s bothering to hide it anymore. It’s a post-apocalyptic world! People are just being themselves! A lot of characters also seem to be bi/pan! They’re just vibing ok

At least that’s how I read that part, I can understand if someone had a problem with that bit but I didn’t

BUT! THAT’S NOT ALL because the memo concludes (I’m paraphrasing) “the birth rate has dropped, which might be a problem, but harassment and assault have also dropped, which is good, so idk it’s 50/50″ and. like. I get the intention. But it’s clumsy as hell and very bad. Please don’t confuse abuse of power and attraction. They don’t go hand in hand. Don’t do that. Please. And you know that aces can have kids if they want to, right. Come on. It’s 2020 my dude. This shit is harmful

Also. Like. It’s the end of the world in this game. People don’t want kids. It... has nothing to do with aces. Reality itself is crashing down. People are reluctant to have kids because reality.exe might f█cking crash down at any given moment!

Or a Beached Thing could VoidOut their city!

Or someone might send them a nuke, not naming names!!

Anyway!!!

It’s really badly written and whoever wrote it should educate themselves and maybe get an ace to re-read their stuff next time??

Again I’m not the right person to talk about acephobia and I bet an actual ace would have plenty more to say about this

Thankfully it’s a memo written in-game by a random Bridges councellor and NOT by any important character that we actually know

"I must preempt myself by admitting that I do not have any empirical data" yeah so, f█ck off maybe

So I’m just gonna call that guy “another piece of shit character” but it still doesn’t excuse the fact that the memo was written by someone who thought it was a good idea to put it in the game

Just let me enjoy my super queer post-apo world in peace and don’t write shit like that in your game thank you and goodbye

Minor stuff I also disliked but it wasn’t as awful

I get that Sam is upset at the end because Lou is dying but the way he said goodbye to Fragile broke my heart. It was abrupt and you KNOW he’s upset and wants to have nothing to do with Bridges anymore and that’s very understandable but it isn’t her fault

Seriously I want them to be friends again

I’m gonna pretend they’re friends again after Lou is saved and that Sam is a freelance porter again and sometimes their paths cross and they just talk together in the middle of nowhere and share cryptobiotes

The pacing is weird, there’s this deluge of plot in the beginning and the end but not much in the middle?

The BT boss fights could have been these epic Shadow of the Colossus showdowns but no, they were relatively standard boss fights. Wasted opportunity

The running on the Beach scene sdfghjhgfdsdfghjhgf that was... dumb

A lot of preppers are interesting in one way or another but some are just boring. Also I wish the design of their bunkers was more varied

Amelie/Bridget’s motivations are all over the place, both creating Bridges AND the Demens is... a lot? I know she both WANTS and DOESN’T want the actual, final end of the world to happen but that is a lot to take in and it’s all very confusing

Who the hell cares about ‘rebuilding America’ I just want to build a network where people can help each other

The ‘likes’ are fun but don’t make much sense

In conclusion

Death Stranding Good

Some stuff Bad

Some stuff Very Bad (but it’s just one memo out of 100+ memos, thank god)

I’m still hyperfixating

Send help

#death stranding #long post #eye contact tw #acephobia tw #from a minor unamed character but still it's there

[drawbauchery]

Two Of A Kind

(fic by cartoons-tothemoon)

Rico was, in many ways, comparable to a feral cat. He came and went as he pleased, he always came back with some sort of new scratch or bruise with no explanation, and he gave off the energy of some sort of dangerous, feral…Thing, despite being almost passive outside of combat situations.

However, similar to a feral cat, despite the threat of pain or personal injury, you couldn’t help wanting to pet it, or keep it around. Rico was scrappy, and to a lot of people, that was charming.

That was how Kowalski rationalized it anyhow.

Of course, nobody could guess that he’d be currently hooked up with the prince of a sovereign nature, but at this point, it was one of those things that might as well happen. If Skipper was allowed to have his weird homoerotic waltz with his frenemy and Private was allowed to clandestinely pine over Skipper the way he did, why not?

Of course, Kowalski wasn’t precisely sure what he was allowed. He was a man of science, of course, but was he not too flesh and blood, like his compatriots? His last relationship with Doris, “The Dolphin” as she was often called, had soured in a manner that he was still at least a little sore over, but surely enough time had passed for him to move past all this…Right?

It had been a slow day in the lab. Skipper told him that if anything else spontaneously combusted this week that he’d lose his microwave privileges, (which, on one hand, was fair, but on the other hand, was just sort of humiliating) so all he could do was sketch out vague models and schematics until night fell, which gave him some time to think about stuff he usually didn’t.

For instance, all of the…Whatever was going on as of late.

He knows it wasn’t always like this, but something had changed, and he had no idea what caused Skipper and Private to go from close friends to close friends with issues, or what caused his perception of Rico to shift from highly unstable maniac to highly unstable maniac with a heart of gold.

However, just as he thought he was making a connection between the several, loud, pounding knocks struck against the door to his lab, which practically caused him to jump out of his skin.

“I AM NEEDING OF YOUR HELP.”

“The door’s unlocked.” Kowalski called, yet still rising to his feet to open the door himself.

“THERE’S NO TIME, I NEED-“ the door opened, revealing Julien, who stopped yelling. “I need a doctor. You’re like a doctor, right?” Julien asked, looking a little more frantic than usual, his hair spiking up in stress.

“I….Guess?” Kowalski himself questioned. “I certainly have the most first aid training.” He turned back to the lab to grab his first aid kit. He hoped he’d have everything he’d need considering how often he had to use this thing as of late.

“Good enough.” Julien said, soothing his nerves by playing with his ponytail. As soon as Kowalski returned, he grabbed his arm in his, and began walking Kowalski down the hall. “It’s Rico.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Kowalski sighed.

“Really? That’s all you have to say? Are you sure you’re a doctor? Because your bedside manner is terrible.”

“I never claimed to be a doctor. What’s up with him?”

Julien froze, and turned to Kowalski, while smiling a sheepish smile. “You’re not going to tell the boss man about this, right?”

“No? Probably not?”

Julien continued his brisk pace at that.

“Good, because that guy just hates fun! I haven’t so much has ever seen him crack a smile! He’s such a bring-down. Anyhow, I mentioned to Rico a few days ago that I’d love to go dancing sometime, so we went out tonight,”

“It’s only 6…”

 “SO WE WENT OUT TONIGHT, and let me tell you it was banging!” Julien said, but his face seemed to fall as he approached his room, and held Kowalski’s arm tighter.

“Nobody there recognized me, but…A lot of people…Still wanted something from me…And…” Julien stopped walking entirely. They were just outside his door.

“I never felt so scared. Death didn’t even scare me, but this? This was…”

Kowalski was simultaneously terrified and calm. He never had to do this kind of comforting before, bringing someone down from a panic attack. “Deep breaths,” he said. “Deep breaths. You don’t have to say anymore.” He placed the hand that Julien claimed on the small of his back, as that was all the position would allow, and saw as he instantly relaxed.

“Rico took care of them. And then we came home.” Julien said, with a level of severity and seriousness never seen on the man. Julien opened the door to reveal Rico sitting on Julien’s bed, covered in various bruises and scratches and blood. Far too many to go unnoticed.

“Fists can only do so much against glass and knives and guns.” Julien murmured, he looked rather guilty at the thought that this was all his fault. A feeling Kowalski wasn’t even aware the foolish prince knew. A feeling welled up inside of Kowalski as he wished to hold and comfort the man he saw before him at this unexpected reveal of depth. He always thought of Julien as far too annoying and horny to deal with, but…Maybe he did contain some level of multitude within him. Maybe there was something more there to see. This fascinated him.

Of course, this reverie would not last long.

“Are you trying to sew your wounds closed with dental floss?”

“It’s, uh, c-c-cleaner than the th-thread I k-keep in my p-pocket.” Rico shrugged, then winced.

Kowalski sighed, and made his way towards the bed. He popped open the first aid kit, and delicately took the arm Rico was hastily trying to stitch up on his own. The wound looked rather deep, like if the knife had been at a different angle, he’d be in a rather different place right now. However, he was here.

“Your stitches are so sloppy…”

“Y-Yeah, well, y-you try sewing in a t-taxi cab s-sometime.”

“I’m probably going to have to pull them out. You’re rather lucky that your other injuries aren’t very serious.” Kowalski looked up, seeing Julien nibbling his lip in the corner, looking almost as bad as Rico, emotionally.  

“Julien?” He perked his head up at the sound of his own name. “Could you get me an ice pack if you would? He’ll need it for his black eye.” Julien nodded, walking out of the room at a relatively fast speed, leaving the two alone.

“I’ll probably sew the new stitches in first, then we can loosen your floss stitches so we don’t have to worry about the wound being reopened…” Kowalski muttered, not to anybody in particular, but Rico was there for it.

“Ar-are you going to t-tell Skipper?”

“Julien already asked.”

“And?”

“I don’t see why I would.” Kowalski shrugged, taking out some anti-septic wipes to dress his other wounds. “You were just doing your job.”

“W-What?”

“Julien told me. You defended him against some guys in a club? It seemed rather…Chivalrous of you.” Kowalski choked.

“Ch-Chivalrous, huh?”

“Don’t get any ideas.” Kowalski said, trying to stop something before it started. “I just wish you two were more careful.”

“Awww, y-you c-care about us.” Rico smirked, leaning in for effect. Kowalski could feel the room getting rather hot, and not just because he wore a sweater all the time. Kowalski decided to take the bait this one time, just to throw him off his game.

“Yeah, I do. I care about all of you, a lot. It’s just that the others aren’t actively throwing themselves into danger at a moment’s notice. The others aren’t trying to steal aspirin trucks or get on Skipper’s bad side. You are.”

Kowalski took the moment to straighten his posture on the bed, and tug on a bandage for harder than he necessarily needed to do.

“You don’t value your own life enough for you to be doing all you do. Is it too much to ask for a little self preservation from you?”

Rico was speechless. It was…All rather strange, to have to listen to Kowalski talk like this. They weren’t what you would call the most open with their feelings, and considering the face Kowalski made before he launched into this tirade, he was just doing this to throw off his flirting. However, it worked, he sounded genuinely worried, and it legitimately made Rico feel…Bad. He felt bad for making Kowalski feel bad, because Kowalski was always…There. Not like, on his side all the time, but there. He was present. Comforting isn’t how he would describe his presence, but he found comfort within it. If he wasn’t there, things would just feel off and bad. Rico couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how Kowalski thought of things.

“S-sorry.”

Kowalski sighed. He sounded tired. Julien knocked quietly on the door as he rushed to hand Kowalski the freezing cold ice pack for Rico’s shiner. He thanked him kindly, and with that, he was finally able to move on to the process of actually stitching up Rico’s wound, as all other trivialities that drew Kowalski’s eyes were addressed. It was a rather calming process actually, as Julien sat beside Rico as Kowalski did his work, quietly watching.

When he finished his labor, he received a fist-bump from Rico, and a hug from Julien.

“I thank you a million times over!”

Kowalski hesitantly patted Julien’s back. “Yes, yes. Of course. Just remember that I’ll need to remove the stitches in the next two weeks and-“

Julien sobbed a little into his chest, and Kowalski leaned more into the hug as he held him tight and let go soon afterwards.

“Hey, everything’s going to be alright. You can remove most of the bandages in two hours, and if Skipper asks, Rico got in a fight with the feral cats in the alley again.”

“Those g-guys are j-jerks.” Rico muttered, and that was when he realized how long he was holding his boyfriend, while he was crying about his boyfriend.

“You’re two of a kind.” Kowalski smiled, which made Julien smile as he turned back to his boyfriend to make fun of his little pout. Kowalski’s smile grew somber, as for a moment, he realized that he’d thought that…Maybe, he was allowed “this,” whatever “this” may be, but the last thing he’d want to do is spoil their fun, and that was the last thing he was considered.

He packed up his first aid kit again as Julien peppered Rico’s face with kisses, and made his way for the door.

“Hey ‘walski. D-Don’t burn that m-midnight oil, huh?” Rico remarked, winking. Julien stopped his onslaught of affection to catch Kowalski running out of the room, cheeks burning, and his boyfriend’s own smug, slightly soft reaction.

“So, what did you guys talk about while I was gone?”

“K-Kowalski said that he l-loved us.” Rico replied, batting his eyelashes and leaning in close to Julien before he got hit in the face with a pillow, knocking him to the floor.”

“He did not!” Julien laughed.

“He d-did!”

“Not!”

“Did!”

“Not! I don’t believe it!” He smiled, not in a cruel way, but something that said that he was also a little soft for the strangely uptight man.

“Hmmm.” Rico hummed, quizzically. “I g-guess you’ll h-have to wait and s-see.”

“And I guess you will too.”

(This was supposed to be your typical fanfic set-up of one character patching the other’s wounds, all the while scolding the other for their wrecklessness. I’m a sucker for that. I would’ve done it as Skipper/Private if I could figure out who was going to be who, but this was also a lot of fun!! I can’t believe I haven’t written for these guys yet. I hope you enjoy!)

#cartoons-tothemoon #fics #pom #blood #this trio is such a good ship ok #i'm calling it julicoski #also you got all my gushing yesterday #so take my love in the form of a draw #and i'm torn between requesting skivate or just more followups to this one alsdknf

[the-terminal-archive]

“I still can’t come up with a nickname for you!!!” “And yet, I don’t have to come up with one for you.” “Mmm, but it’s so much more fun to give someone a nickname! It’s like being a cool friend!”

The bridge seemed to stretch on further and further, yet also seemed to descend closer to the magma the longer they went along. Several thin paths stretched out, coated in quartz shards of just about every color one could imagine. “...Hey, Phantom?” “Hm?” “What kind of inclusions did you put to get such a bright blue???” “Ah, it’s blue…? Uh, I think it was called dumortierite. I was lucky that it was growing in some of the mines that I went to with some of the diamonds I looked after. It...hah, I’ve felt it growing for some time, does it like me that much?” “Well, you seem to have a lot of it?” “I hope one day it overtakes the quartz hosting it.” “...What do you mean?” “It has a maximum hardness of 8.5… And, sure, it hurts every few days as it grows, but...Perhaps I’ll stand a better chance against these beasts.” There was a smile on their face, though it twitched with some emotion Ametrine could not describe. “I don’t mean to sound so melancholy, forgive me. You...You’re quite the rarity of a gem… Yet you stay with those colored green? Dear, you could pass for one who bears a purple hue!” “I know, I know! I just… I have my reasons for being there! Well...reason. Savvy is the one that helped me be...this, y’know? It’s nice, but I’m also kind of an anomaly? I mean, that’s what they said.” “Not really an anomaly… You’d still be taken in by the purple ones, they’d classify you as one with the personality of an orange gem, perhaps even yellow with how your citrine is colored. That’s assuming your fingers are purple at the tips...yes?”

“...Yea, I guess... But either way, I’d rather stay with my best friend!!” “...Hm.” The blue and yellow quartz took a sharp left, nearly causing Ametrine to fall off kilter with a squeak. It would take a moment for them to catch back up.

The bridge they walked along was poorly supported, though there were a few back routes to other paths judging by where they were going. Ahead, there was a series of small caverns...they probably wouldn’t fit more than a few people. The closer they got, the more Phantom would begin to look around, as if remaining alert in case something happened.

“...What are you doing?” “I just need to be sure of something whenever I come here. We should be fine, thankfully.” Ametrine nodded, and then flinched when they heard the sound of crumbling rock. Nothing fell, not yet, but… Goodness, was this place unsteady! “Not to worry, it does that a lot. The rock beneath us is likely a bit less dense than us, but it can still hold its own well.” “I-If you’re sure!” They went back to smiling a second later as they came upon the caverns. Poking their head in one of them, they glanced at the striped rock encasing it, the taller pointing to a small red rock poking out of it. Well- it wasn’t even that small. Ametrine approached it, the form being of two hands, a couple other organs with that same red hue poking out. “This one is still forming, but it’s the most promising. A shame they’re a red one, but...what can you do, hm? Even if they won’t be highly looked upon, it’s alright.” “What even is this...rock? Looks like a garnet. Savvy would be interested in meeting them if so!” “And that, you would be correct. These gems are found close to diamonds, it only makes sense that one would show up here.” “...Huh...did...did Savvy-” “Oh, heavens, no. There’s only a few other gems that could possibly be here, anyhow… and… a green gem? There’s not enough chromium here for that.” “Chromi...chro...hmm…” “It’s fine if you can’t say it yourself! Just know it’s important in gem growth.” They got no response, watching as Ametrine went up to the forming being and holding one of its hands. They weren’t surprised the other was so affectionate- rather- that the hand they held curled its fingers around the hand holding it, its form seeming to relax a little as some blood seeped out.

“Well...I certainly haven’t seen one do that.” “Savvy says it’s a little something special I do besides moving magnets and stuff! They said something about being able to make the nervous systems of others reactive for a short while? I don’t really care about the specifics…” “Well, it seems to appreciate the gesture. Perhaps later, when it’s fully formed, I could bring you back here to meet whoever this turns out to be.” “Maybe, if I’m allowed to! Ummm...what are in the other two?” “Just some zircon, would you like to see it?” “Mhm! If it’s fine!!!” “Well, if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked! These two aren’t nearly as- ...ah?” The pause made the projected eyes look at where Phantom was looking, a look of concern upon their face taking root. A moment later, warnings started popping up, recognizing the familiar threat. “G-GET BACK!” They yelped, darting away and back onto the bridge from where they went. The other would do the same, but damn near fell off the side of the platform supporting them. They looked around, almost confused? Perhaps trying to pinpoint something? Before their gaze fell on the first instance of any noise being made, coming from yet another beast. This one had fewer limbs, yet still towered over them. Its eyes, as if made of glass, were shattered in places, and it too seemed to only look around wildly, trying to hear any further noise. “Zircon… a 7.5, oh dear.” Even the quiet mumbling caught the attention of this new entity, and its corroded voice rumbled with piqued appetite.

“Right, Ametrine, do you feel any signs of a headache?” “Yeah!” “I need you to suppress them.” “U-Uh!!! I don’t think that’s how it wo-” “Just trust me on this! They take advantage of the mind, akin to some other entities that exist! If you must, just run!” “N-No, I’m not leaving you! You could die!” “...Indeed I could… Fine! I suppose I could teach you what I said I would, even though this one is a bit...dangerous to teach with.” “W-Wait, HUH?” “Here, just take this! Things will be fine!” And, before they could process much, Ametrine had one of their daggers! What’s more is that they heard a crunching noise from the taller gem, though it was uncertain from what, exactly. “It’s simple, really! Follow me, once we get to its back, we will tear its limbs from its form!” “It’s that simple?!” They squeaked as they leapt to the side, narrowly dodging a swipe from the beast’s claws and then following the other quartz as they took off. “I told you to just trust me! These are made of diamond bits, what else must I say?”

Everything felt like a bit of a blur soon after, whether that was due to the beast trying to mess with them or their boots kicking into high gear, Ametrine knew not. All they could make out was the beast’s thrashing once the two were on its back. That, and a couple things related to the Phantom… other than a few scuffs on the cluster they had, they were also thrown off the back they were upon at one point. Seeing no other option, they took off a second limb from the monster and used it as a means to guide them down to Phantom. Helping them back up, they...they even dusted themself off, as if they knew they had just a little time to spare.

“Ah- goodness, this is a horrible idea…” “YOU THINK????” “Wait…” They murmured, perking up a little. “...The bridge…” “Wh-What?” “We may have run into a bit of luck. Come along, little one!” They picked up the silver-plated gem, who made a noise of surprise. “Wh-What are you-?” “No worries! How good are you at landing on your feet?” “Not very good, why?” “I’m going to have to throw you.” “You WHAT!?” “Well, seeing as we’re already on the back of this zircon, I see no better means than to do this! Please forgive me!” Ametrine would have protested further, but there was nothing other than a quiet ‘Bon Voyage!’ As they were thrown. They could have sworn they saw a pale yellow shard thrown out as well, which was caught in the unhinged jaw of the Zircon, who willingly devoured such. Phantom waited in silence on its back until a loud hiss was heard, then started moving again, up to its head. As its movements started becoming erratic, they could hear small cracking noises. Please, let them carry themself far enough! There were several stumbles on the slippery skin, coated in bright red blood, though they managed to make it to the apex of the beast as it slammed itself onto the bridge. Such an action would cause it to break under the pressure, the quartz managing to leap off and though they didn’t stick the landing, rolling right next to Ametrine was better than landing on them. Though, a moment later, Phantom would heave themself up, a hand reaching for their head. “Augh...Never again will I make a decision such as this…” “You better not!!! That was the worst fear I’ve had in...uh...ten minutes!” “Mhm, right...ugh…” Perhaps the Zircon’s suffering in the magma below caused them a worse headache than they thought. “Mmm, I need a rest, teaching you things can wait a little.” Though, at least they still managed to grab the daggers that were theirs before Ametrine could notice or look up. However, when they did, their visor flickered a little as they adjusted to the adrenaline calming down, and-- “U-Uh, you’re bleeding…” “I sure am. It was just one of the yellow points, i-it’ll be fine.” “...Does it hurt?” “My entire head hurts….” “Right, right!! Uh!!! I can take you somewhere, hold on!!! I can take you somewhere to rest!” No response. They had only glanced away for a moment, but upon hearing the soft thud, looked over to see that the other had passed out. Oh… well! That wasn’t happening anytime soon! They also probably weren’t going to see that garnet anytime soon, either! … It was oddly silent in this cozy place! Hm...where were they going to take Phantom? They considered taking the tall one someplace safe, but...Oh, right… Tsavorite did want something taken care of. Perhaps they’d just have to cut this stay short. Bummer! And with that, they picked up the exhausted one, glancing at those small caverns once more before beginning to leave. Hopefully, nothing blocked their way as they made their exit from such a horrid scene- as they saw the mass of zircon bubble and froth as it struggled against inevitable death.

#cookie run au #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run #crob #Ametrine #Phantom Quartz #prologue : the kimberlite mines

[the-fiction-witch]

Steal Horses, Six Shooters And Syren Sting P1

TV SHOW : GODLESS (NETFLIX) X FUTURE  COUPLE : WHITEY X READER RATING : SWEARING / SMUTISH / VIOLENCE.

It seemed like a lifetime since this shit started. Looking back at it all it sounds a lot like a rather shitty movie. Or perhaps an adaptation of a Netflix show.

It all started back in some backwater berg my daddy shipped me off to when I was seventeen I got home from market one day and the farm boy who owned the house was dead on the wooden floor.

"Evening Missy" He smirked to me

"what the Hell do you want?" I asked

"Now little lady I just came over to ask ya some questions," He says

"Yeah about what frank?" I asked

"Old Makies barn over there seems full of some uhh let's call it less than pharmaceutical stuff missy, and I come over to find Makie dead, and your big brother ran off seems like your the only one accountable," he says

"You don't believe I did it?" I complained

"Well who else missy? Now you gonna come along quietly or am I gonna have to force ya pretty but down to the station" he smirked grabbing my arm

"get the Hell off me!" I yelled punching him hard knocking him out I grabbed my bag and his keys, I stole his little cop car and ran it as far to the border as the puppy would go before it killed over. I dumped the car and headed on foot to the next town some bumfuck town with some little bar I went through the wooden doors and walked up through the madness of truckers, biker boys, drunks and cowboys. I sat at the bar and the barkeep looked at me

"what'll it be Girly?" He asked

"What kinda shit you boys drink down here?" I asked

"Whiskey, We call it Syren Sting down here," He says "Pay up," he says I sighed realizing I didn't have any money I sighed getting off the bar and going outside to have a cigarette

"What the hell you guys! where's my singer, you little bitches? How are we meant to go on without a singer!" some guy yelled at the back door and I smiled

"hey, You boys need a singer?" I asked leaning on the door

"You know what she'll do," he says "Get on with the other boys, and I'll give you your cut when you're done," he says

"Deal" I smiled going out as some of the other guys went on the stage

"Hey? what's your name anyway hun?" he asks

"Angel" I smiled.

Once I grabbed my money I went to the bar getting a drink looking for a ride out of town I downed my glass and looked around the dirty place, I looked for anyone who I thought could help me and but as I was looking I heard a police car roll up outside. I ran to the little bathroom that was purely a room with a broken toilet and sink, I locked the door and saw man passed out on the floor I grabbed his keys and his checked overshirt slipping the shirt on and the keys in my pocket, I grabbed his wallet taking what little money was left, as well as taking his hat coming out the bathroom as people began to get suspicious I walked out keeping my head down "Hey! It's her boys!" I heard Frank tell so I unlocked the car with the key it flashing up in the car park so I ran jumping in as fast as I could sticking the key in and rushing off as fast as I could even if they where trying to chase me.

I managed to shake them and I stopped off in some little place as the car was about out of fuel anyhow. I parked up throwing the key in the seat and going inside, the place was almost empty maybe two old men sat at the car, the jukebox playing something gently in the background. A man who looked about one hundred severed drinks at the bar but my eyes met someone else. He was young looking but still older then me. His brown pants so tight to his body they hugged his every curve even if the slender kid hadn't got many curves to start with, his loose button down hung off his slender body two six shooters holstered to his legs, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a speckling of facial hair above his lip, his dirty blonde hair a long mess, a hat beside him as he drank leaning his elbow on the bar as he perched his skinny little butt on the barstool. His skin plastered in three years of dust and dirt and as I entered the place his brown eyes looked at me seeming shocked biting on his lip a little as he looked at me "Something worth looking at cowboy?" I asked "Don't know, not often a little thin' like you comes thought 'ere," he smiled at me "drink?" He offered "You paying?" I asked "I might" he shrugs "Syren sting, double if you can" I smiled going over standing beside him at the bar as the bar man made my drink "What's a little thin' like you doin' all the way out here?" He asks me "Whats it to you?" "Curious is all" "Circumstances" I answered "what's ya name anyhow?" He asks as I got my drink "Angel" I smiled "Angel?" He asks "there a last name to that or?" He asks "Just angel" I smiled "how about you?" "Whitey, whitey Winn." He smirked We sat for a while just chatting and laughing having a few drinks, we must have been here a few hours just having drinks and talking. "So tell me Mr Winn? What's a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?" "I've always been here," he shrugs "why ya thinkin' of stayin'?" He asks "Doubt it" I laughed "Really? Not even for a little while? Just maybe a night or so?" He offered suggestively "I know a great little place in town" "Yeah? Would this little place also happen to be somewhere your gonna be staying tonight?" I ask "Maybe" he shrugs having a drink as he did I heard the start of sirens and I got worried but then I figured it, if I let he cops get Infront of me, they won't be following me as much "Sure, let's Go then" I smiled and he almost coughed on his drink "Wait really?' he asked a little excited and I nodded downing my drink "come on then angel" he smirked playing the bill and grabbing my hand tugging me out with him, I made sure I had my stuff and got in his little car with him he raced off clearly excited as the cars pulled over at the bar, but one was clearly smarter and began to follow us without a siren "if that guy following us?" He asks as he kept checking his mirrors as the car got closer and closer and whitey sped up each time trying desperately to get away from him but he suddenly rammed the back of the car "yeah he's definitely fuckin' following us" he complained "what the hell's he followin' us for?" He asked  "they turn up at the bar how there followin' -" he began almost talking to himself but it clicked "there after ya, aren't they?" He asked "You could say that" I sighed "That's why he's following us?" He asks and I nodded and he sighed kicking it up a few gears "I'll loose him, the second we do your gettin' out angel" he warns "Why?" I asked rather annoying "Strangely enough angel I don't wanna be found in the car with some chick who's got police chasing her" he complained "Ohh relax" I said as the cars sirens started "What the fuck did ya do angel?" He asks as more cars began to follow us "I didn't do anything!" I agrue "Yeah! Ya didn't do anythin' that's why where about to get royalty fucked by these dickholes!" He argued "Don't you trust me!" "I've known ya three fuckin' hours most of which I was drinkin' so maybe start givin' me some actual answers" he argued as he sped up more trying to avoid them "Look I didn't do anythin' the dick hole sherrif framed me! All because I wouldn't fuck his son okay! I didn't do anything just loose them!" I yelled as they got closer and more violent one even ramming the back end of his car "Hell no! Ya might be cute as fuck angel but I'm not gettin' arrested for ya!" He complained "Why not!" "Because I'm the fuckin' deputy okay!' he yelled "What!" I asked "I'm the deputy for the country okay! Some sherrif finds me transporting a criminal in gonna get the fuckin' rope" he complained "Your not gonna get caught trust me" I told him "Fine what do ya wanna do?" He asks as the rammed us again "Hard left next opening," I told him "That's a one way street!" "Ya think I give a shit" "Fine" he sighed doing as I had told him I gave him a couple more instructions loosing more of the cars till I spotted a layby so I turned the wheel making us almost skid Into the dark tree filled layby and I turned the engine off getting my breath back, I always love a good chase. "Whoa..." He says "What?" I laughed "Is it weird I kinda liked that?" He asked "Like what?" I asked "Getting chased? The high speed! The lightning quick moves! The thrill! The energy" he explained "I don't know..." "Don't worry whitey I do too"  I giggled unclipping my seatbelt and sitting on his lap wrapping my arms around his neck "You wanna tag along with me a little while?" I offer "I don't know angel..." He says "It'll be alot more of that likely some more fun stuff" I smirked kissing down his neck "Ya know what... I'm sick of this bullish little town, fuck it I'm comin' with ya angel" he smirked "Good boy whitey" I smiled "you wanna make out in the back till the heats off?" I asked "Fuck yeah" he nodded

#whitey #whitey smut #whitey winn smut #whitey winn imagines #godless Whitey Winn imagine #whitey winn #whitey winn imagine #whitey imagine #godless whitey smut #netflix whitey imagine #whitey imagines #whitey winn smutty #godless whitey winn smut #godless whitey winn smutty #tbs #thomas sangster #thomasbrodiesangster #thomassangster #thomas brodie sangster