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#future myra
puppypopcornpizza · 6 months
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hawke
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fablexeo · 1 year
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Two different coins
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myearts-uwu · 10 months
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Out of context Ana ai
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ink-ghoul · 9 months
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It's my great joy to announce the plans for the Scarland Art Book fan-project! 🌸
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🔥 UPDATE: YOU CAN FIND US NOW ON @scarland-artbook
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What's this about?
It's an artist collaboration, to create a compilation of illustrations, concept designs, sketches, and thought processes that mockup the development of theme park design.
This project will be centered around showcasing Scarland's architecture, landscapes, and experiences along with the designs of its products, costumes, advertisement, rides and everything else that is so carefully crafted for a park.
Who's organizing?
Yours truly @ink-ghoul, along with @berrysquared, @septictech, @cocoabats, @kazehita, and @peanutbutter255 with support from Elle, Reshie, Blods, Void and Myra.
How can I join the project?
The process will be the same as a fan-zine, we will open application forms in the near future! keep an eye on that!
🔽 We would love to hear your opinion on this idea, please let us know by answering this form (closes on July 9)
More news coming soon, reblogs appreciated!
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reiderwriter · 8 months
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hi i love your writing
could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both
A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.
Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.
My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸
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“Okay, what about Amelia?”
“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”
“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”
“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”
“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”
“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.
“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.
“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”
“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.
“How big did you say our little girl is now?”
“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.
“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.
“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.
“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.
“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.
“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.
“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.
“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”
“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”
“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”
“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”
“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.
“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.
It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.
“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.
“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.
Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.
“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.
“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”
His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.
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zapbib24 · 3 months
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Out of boredom today I'm replaying the NWH press tour for myself, I keep catching myself during the Myra interview when Tom said that "the next 5 years he wants to focus more on the future of his life than his career" or Z's words that she "misses Noon" so much. I don't know if they already felt at the time what might happen in the future but it just catches my heart so much 🥹
"I would like to spend the next 5 years of my life focusing on the future of my life rather than on the future of my career" -> he spends an entire year taking a break from work and focusing on building homes with his wife in their hometowns
"I miss Noon" -> she takes all the steps necessary for him to travel internationally and he spends an entire year living that bi-continental life with his parents
Truly living their best lives 🤧
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sammunmak · 1 month
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Specs & Max Freelance Police in: Hells-A-Poppin'!
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+ sam’s vices !!
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this is basically an au idea i had for the alt timeline! i wrote out all the changes to the first two seasons, but it's a bit on the longer side so i'm sticking it under the cut.
this takes place immediately after sam and max steal the elevator from their future selves. there’s no obvious changes at first. the director gives them another contract after telling her they misplaced the first one, but not without threat of not giving them another one if they manage to misplace this one. once they wrap up the case and free myra stump from the hypnosis, they take the elevator (and their music contract) with them and put it away in storage, vowing to never speak of the possibility that they just killed their future selves again. ah well, knowing themselves, they probably survive. everything else afterwards is pretty much the same, though when sam and max see superball for the first time sam asks max if he looks familiar. max takes one look at him and proudly declares nope, not at all, and that’s the end of that.
the first major change happens in 106.
hugh: for in all the universe, there’s only one force chaotic and destructive enough to stop me now! but you wouldn’t do that, would you max?
max: who, ME? well, i’m- i’m flattered, but-
hugh: no you wouldn’t, not without your trusty partner, at least.
max: huh?
sam: what exactly are you implying?
hugh: i’m going to… drumroll, please… [drumroll] separate your bliss!
max: really?
sam: what does that even mean?!
hugh: it means i chop off every part of you i don’t like! it’s like circumcision, but double the laughs.
max: he-ey!
sam: quiet, knucklehead.
sam gets split into 3 vices. gluttony, greed, and wrath. wrath is formed from sam’s right ear, greed is formed from sam’s left hand (it even keeps the wedding band!), and gluttony is formed from. well, the stomach. max loses all romantic interest he had in hugh bliss in that moment. 
max is very annoyed about the whole situation. he never has to do work on their cases, and suddenly he’s being forced to figure everything out on his own! but seeing sam’s awful blissed-out state is worse. blissed-out sam is basically just a big puppy. all smiles, completely clueless about everything around him, and has to be led around by his remaining hand if max wants him to go anywhere. max considers shooting him every time he makes a comment about hugging trees or something sentimental crap like that, but one look at that big dopey grin on sam’s face and he just can’t do it. he needs to turn sam back quickly, he’s turning into a sap just being near this… shell of his partner.
wrath is in the sanctuary, threatening the COPS for information on max’s whereabouts (yes it’s just noir sam lol). when max and bliss sam finally make their appearance, wrath almost immediately tries to shoot bliss sam. max stops it, of course. it seems like max is the only person wrath won’t lash out against. max has to open one of bluster blaster’s side panels, then get wrath close enough to it to shut the panel on his ear, pulling it off wrath when it tries freeing itself.
once sam gets his ear back, he seems to randomly decide to shoot at max.
max: what was that for?!
sam: i dunno, it just felt right.
when max walks into bosco’s store, he immediately makes eye contact with gluttony sam, who’s sitting on the floor eating a giant tub of ice cream. it doesn’t seem very interested in eating actual people (haha foreshadowing?) in the freezer are a bunch of popsicles. max can grab one and give it to gluttony, who’ll chomp it down wrapper and all. max has to put jimmy two-teeth into one of the wrappers in order to get gluttony to eat him, then pull out jimmy and sam’s stomach with the magic hat.
sam: anyone else suddenly got a hankerin’ for a fudgie freeze?
max: you don’t know how glad i am to hear you say those words.
greed is inside the office, hoarding just about everything in there and more. somehow there’s items in here max didn’t even know they had. or maybe greed just grabbed everything not bolted down to the floor on the way back to the office.
max has to buy bosco’s invention (which is just a big magnet), then use the spoon bending talisman to pull the spork out of the hugh bliss statue’s hand, give it to greed, and then use the magnet to drag its ass towards him and just yank sam’s hand off it.
sam: are you using that magnet?
max: nope! it’s all yours.
upon collecting all 3 vices, sam returns to normal, and they can now go fight hugh bliss. cue world of max :)
not much else changes until 204.
once they enter momma bosco’s store and accidentally reveal max’s lack of interest in girls, momma bosco becomes infatuated with him. sam and max try and argue against this for a while, until max tells her that he’s a married man.
ms b: i don’t see a ring on your finger.
max: well check again!
max flashes his left hand, revealing a bare ring finger. oh. he didn’t put on his ring today. sam is missing his ring as well. seems they got a bit excited when flint invited them on a case with him and forgot them.
(not gonna lie this whole puzzle isnt fully fleshed out. the whole plan would be that they have to go back to their prom and essentially crash it in order to help max realize he doesn’t like girls. i did also have the idea of superball printing marriage certificates instead of patents, which they’d need to grab one from him and hang it on the corkboard in the near future, then go to the distant future and take their wedding rings from their future selves. if i do ever have an idea of how exactly this all pans out i’ll make it into a fic or something. for now tho this is the best i could come up with.)
max is very proud to show off his new wedding ring to momma bosco.
later on, sam is glad he kept that music contract on him, once one of the pedros asks for one.
of course, despite keeping their past selves from boarding the UFO, the elevator is still oddly enough missing when they run back to it.
max: hey, the elevator’s gone! what gives?
sam: hmm… remember what got us into this whole mess, the temporal anomalies and whatnot? maybe it’s another one of those? maybe this is the universe’s way of trying to correct the timeline, and we have to leave the same way our future selves did, since we’re-
max: alright, alright! less talky more- figuring out how to get off this dang ship!
ah well, having two elevators seems a bit overkill anyway. 
not so long later, in 205:
sam: you better release our pals’ souls from hell, cause my excitable little friend is getting angry.
max: and i’m angry, too!
satan: there’s no need for that kind of talk. i’ll gladly release your friends. just sign this release.
max: hold on sam, i got this!
sam: …you sure, max? 
max: positive! watch this. [he pulls out a crayon and scribbles his name on the contract]
satan: and that’s that.
sam: well that was pretty easy.
satan: now just do me a favor and think of the most horrible thing you can imagine.
max: ooh, that might take a second, there’s so many- oh, maybe- wait no, i’ve got it!
satan: good. now off you go!
[max disappears]
sam: sweet summering sausages sweltering on a busy sidewalk, what did you do?!
satan: he traded his soul for that of all your friends. they never read the fine print. now max will spend eternity in his own personal hell!
max: back in the office? where’s my partner?
specs: i’m over here!
max finds himself stuck inside a now very tidy office with specs, the neat freak of the soda poppers.
max: so where’s my REAL partner?
specs: what are you talking about, i AM your real partner.
max: uh, no. last i checked my partner was a six foot tall dog in a suit, not… you.
specs: oh, max. clearly you’re confused. you’ve always had a terrible memory. but don’t worry, i’m here to keep everything in order for you.
max is just about ready to start ripping out patches of his fur when he sees sam, sticking his big nose through the hole in their office wall. after a bit of arguing, max remembers the key card. he yells at sam to use it so they can kick demon’s spec’s ass together. when sam gets in there they do just that, ending in sam throwing the demon out the open window. with max’s personal hell defeated and leonard’s soul free they leave and finally go and confront satan.
as a bonus, a fun change to a piece of dialogue in 201:
sam: how long do you think it’ll take for one of us to kick the bucket?
max: i dunno, but i think if one of us were to go, the other would follow very close behind. maybe not even by choice!
sam: does that mean if i go first, i can take you with me?
max: sure does! in fact, i encourage it!
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schweizercomics · 4 months
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Companions of Christmas, Dec 1: Santa Claus
Santa or Saint Nicholas (“Santa” means “Saint,” and “Claus” is short for “Niklaus/Nicolas) was born to wealthy parents in a small port city in Asia Minor. Nicholas became a gift-giver at a young age when, upon learning that three sisters who wished to wed their loves could not do so because they had no dowry with which to pay their future husband’s family, he tossed coins through their window in the dead of night. Finding that he could so easily change lives for the better and bring hope to those who had little through these small acts of generosity, he sold his property and belongings and used the money to continue helping those he found in need. As he was already following his god Jesus’s order “sell what you possess and give the money to the poor,” it was only natural that he would adhere to the next dictate “then come, follow me,” which he did, becoming first a Christian priest, and, soon after, the bishop of Myra.
Nicholas, a noted brawler even during his bishophood, never backed down from a fight in service to others. He frequently found himself rescuing the innocent from execution, saving children from those who would exploit them, and battling monsters and creatures long viewed by the Christians as servants of evil. But instead of killing these foes, Nick would recruit them. Using both force and Christian magic, he would make them accompany him on his errands and missions of mercy, and the exposure to his generosity and kindness changed their perception and their hearts, turning them from forces of destruction to forces of good, though few lost any of their wildness.
Nicholas was born a mortal man, and died one, at the age of seventy-three, on December 6, 343. His devotion to his faith and service to his neighbors ensured his place in heaven, but heaven was no paradise for Nick, who fretted constantly for the children of the world. He petitioned the three aspects of God for a charter, to return to earth and bring joy and comfort to its children through acts of charity and joy. His charter was granted, and he returned to earth one year later, and he has done his good works each December since.
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Happy December, friends! Each year around this time I post up drawings of Christmas and other winter holiday figures, along with narratives to explain the practices with which folklorists and holiday buffs might be familiar. When stories exist, I use them; when they don't, I do what I can to piece together what folklore surrounds them to fill in the gaps (or, in some instances, defer to the theories of my friend and fellow narrative reconcilianist Benito Cereno). I hope you enjoy them!
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seat-safety-switch · 1 year
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You might be inclined to throw away all those fancy metal tins that your Christmas cookies came in. Some aunt, grandmother, or well-meaning social worker gave you baked goods, and you ate them all the first day. Now, you’ve just got the metal tin kicking around, taking up your counterspace, daring you to throw it away. And yet – and yet – your hand is stayed just as it hovers over the recycling bin, ready to condemn the tin to the hereafter. Why is that?
For me, it started as a young child. In a world covered in low-quality plastic products, the presence of a low-quality metal product is a novelty. And metal has many uses. You can conduct electricity with it, make cool noises when you bang on it with a hammer, or use it to patch up a rust hole in the quarter panel of your 1978 Volare. Sure, that metal has been treated to avoid pesky liability lawsuits for tin poisoning, but after a few zaps from Mr. Welder while you hold your breath to keep the residue mostly out of your lungs, it’ll all be taken care of.
And, beyond its value as a raw material, a metal tin is useful to keep things in. What kind of things? Bolts. Screws. Nails. Relays. Lengths of wire. In other words, all the other stuff you don’t want to throw away because it could be useful one day, but don’t care enough about to organize properly so that you can actually find it when you need it. Unlike a regular old cardboard box, the tin looks good on your shelf, which will increase the odds that your next of kin won’t immediately throw it away themselves. And who knows? Maybe those bolts will prove useful to them, in the dust-blasted apocalyptic future where they can’t just order more bolts from Uncle Jeff’s Comedy Warehouse.
I like to think I can grow as a person. And this time, I sure did. That cookie tin ended up in the recycle bin, and it almost made its way out to the curbside recycling bin before I fished it back out and put a bunch of windshield-washer-sprayer-hose fittings in it. Aunt Myra knew what she was doing when she gave me that tin, almost like it was an apology for her decidedly uninspired ginger sparklers this year. Could barely taste it with all this weld-spattered cookie-tin wax covering my tongue.
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riveatstoes · 6 months
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For Your Consideration, Some Terrible Losers Club Headcanons**
**Mostly Eddie cus I think he’s silly
When they got married, Eddie and Myra’s wedding colors were teal and white
Their wedding song was “A Thousand Years” from the Twilight soundtrack — Eddie thinks it’s the most beautiful song to ever be written
Richie uses Apple Music (saw this in a fanfic somewhere, couldn’t unsee it)
Eddie’s the type of guy to mansplain the “true message of” Hamilton to the women in his workplace/Myra
After Derry 2016, Bill sends all of his books to Beverly so she can approve/veto the endings. She’s usually a good neutral party
The Losers meet once a month at least for dinner and to catch up
Richie gives them all VIP passes to his future shows and they never fail to show up (even when he ends up relentlessly bullying them on stage)
Bill and Richie definitely kissed in front of paparazzi once “for the bit” (Audra approved of this and thought it was hilarious)
Eddie was a huge fan of Twilight but didn’t admit it because he saw himself as “above” the other fans
They welcomed Patty Uris as an honorary Loser after Stan’s funeral. She and Mike get along the most of all of them
Despite not being a millennial, Eddie certainly acts like a stereotypical one and you cannot convince me otherwise (hence the Twilight and Hamilton references)
Eddie’s the type of guy to say “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”*
*If he doesn’t have his coffee then Eddie’s a little bit agitated throughout the day, BUT if Beverly doesn’t have her coffee she will kill someone. Stan is somewhere between them
Mike adopted a Pomeranian after leaving Derry. Richie is sometimes horrified of it
The others bring up Eddie frequently in a joking way, but rarely (at first) does Richie participate. Somehow nobody notices that he gets quiet when they bring the topic up
The Losers got famous on social media after reconnecting, purely because of how weird they seem together. Beverly’s personal accounts quickly turned into everyone’s source for Losers content
I’m sorry but Ben seems like the type of guy to go to a family event and ask “where’s my hug? :D”
Bill would want to make his son a junior to “carry on his family name” but also, I feel like if he were to have kids he’d be graced with all girls. Girldad Bill…hm
Richie being their universe’s Bill Hader is so silly to me because, and ONLY because of Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs. I feel like the Losers would relentlessly bully him for that shit
Not a headcanon but I love Patty and Audra, I’m quite possibly their biggest fan
Audra, Patty, and Bev best girlboss unit. I love the idea of them hanging out maybe I should write a fanfic about it
Obviously I’m a huge fan of the idea that Stanley and Eddie never died but that’s not exactly a headcanon so. Um. They’re still alive in my heart
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bitter69uk · 5 months
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Considering Mae West’s 130th birthday was in August and the anniversary of her death (22 November 1980) is later this month, the 16 November installment of the Lobotomy Room club is a tribute to cinema’s high empress of sex! And - because this is the Lobotomy Room film club (devoted to Bad Movies for Bad People) – rather than show one of her 1930s classics, we’re screening West’s infamous final movie Sextette (1978)!
Persuaded to make one last film, the 84-year-old diva made zero concessions to her age and cast herself as a much-lusted after bombshell Marlo Manners, surrounded by besotted male admirers (including 34-year-old future James Bond Timothy Dalton as her husband-to-be. The rest of the oddball cast includes Ringo Starr, Alice Cooper, Keith Moon, Tony Curtis and George Hamilton).
Yes, the mind-boggling, misbegotten musical comedy Sextette is an unintended camp classick which made The New York Times declare, “Granny should have her mouth washed out with soap, along with her teeth!" BUT: I recently watched the 2020 documentary Dirty Blonde, which proposed a kinder reappraisal of West’s reviled later films Myra Breckenridge (1970) and Sextette, asking the viewer why we are so horrified by West still flaunting her sexual appetites into old age. As film historian Jeanine Basinger argues, “There’s a wonderful courage and defiance” to West’s sheer stubbornness in taking what she had in the 1930s and trying to make it work in the 1970s.  Judge for yourself over cocktails at Fontaine’s bar on 16 November!
Lobotomy Room Goes to the Movies is the FREE monthly film club devoted to cinematic perversity. Third Thursday night of every month downstairs at Fontaine’s cocktail lounge. Numbers are limited, so reserving in advance via Fontaine’s website is essential. Alternatively, phone 07718000546 or email [email protected]. The film starts at 8:30 pm. Doors to the basement Bamboo Lounge open at 8:00 pm. To ensure everyone is seated and cocktails are ordered on time, please arrive by 8:15 pm at the latest. Info.
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markrosewater · 6 months
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Probably been asked before but why is fluros of Myra's marvels from unfinity acorn when everything on the card has been in legal magic in the past (goblin game) and was planned in legal magic in the future (talion)
We promised that all cards with partner would be acorn, and it seemed odd to break the cycle having four have partner and one not, so we left it acorn.
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myearts-uwu · 1 year
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Random question but how many of you would be interested if I make some Myra or Myra x Anastacius merch like postcards and acrylic charms or maybe even acrylic standees? Or maybe just some wmmap characters charms in general?
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maxwell-grant · 3 months
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🔥 The Shadow in the pulps
Myra Reldon was really, really cool on her debut, and pretty much never again sadly. Like, she was okay on the following ones, but her spark was lost once she became entirely reliant on her gimmick and could not longer show up or match The Shadow to the same extent. She was the greatest beneficiary of Gibson's "introduce this new agent as a potential villain and then reveal later they were a good guy" method but unfortunately she turned out to be a one-trick pony with a very limited trick. I blame this more on Gibson being generally unwilling to/lackluster at writing women than anything, Myra has potential but she's in a rough spot (and not at all because of Margo, but that's a spiel for another time).
I don't think the early years were the absolute definitive best ones. Gibson was still finding his footing big time and the character was still operating on undercooked surroundings and cast. Like yeah, if you think these novels are worthless whenever The Shadow is not on screen, you're probably gonna gravitate more to the ones where he's at his most distant and invincible, but I think that's extremely reductive and also plainly wrong, he's not even at his absolute coolest in those either.
I've thought a lot on how to make the best of it and I have some ideas but frankly, and I could change my mind in the future but for now, if I could excise the Xincas from Kent Allard's character/backstory, I would. It's just, I don't think you can escape the mighty whitey bullshit baked into the concept guys, I like The Shadow having globetrotted extensively and done something important in South America and the ring having all that lore into it and etc but the Xincas are just, they get cut out of adaptations for good reason.
I agree that Shiwan Khan is overused as hell and usually a bad omen but, thing is, I actually do like him, I do think he had some really good things going for him, and I actually do think he had a lot of legit reasons for being The Shadow's arch-nemesis. That said, I do get that the character is toxic and, even if I argue the particulars of it, I do understand there is a degree of inescapable Yellow Peril there that might not really be worth salvaging. Really the biggest reason I even want Khan to work is less about him and more because, well,
The Shadow's villains kinda suck, and he's not particularly conductive towards having a good rogues gallery in the first place, which really wouldn't be an issue (most characters don't have one) if they didn't keep making a comic book superhero out of him. It's partially because, well he's already the villain to end all the villains for a start, hence why the best-regarded pulp villains generally had surface similarities to him. But The Shadow doesn't really invite that kind of deeper Spider-Man/Batman parallelism, he can't have an over-the-top collection of outsized personalities to fight ala Nick Carter/G-8 because he already is the central outsized over-the-top personality here, and he kinda has the Punisher problem (he can't have a bunch of villains running around because he's supposed to actually handle them for good even if he doesn't kill them) but worse, because his supporting cast actually matters, and fixing this villain problem would come at the expense of risking his supporting cast of agents and honestly, that wouldnt be remotely worth doing.
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trilliannnn · 5 months
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Grooming.... let's talk about it:
Let's start back in 1919. Charlie Chaplin, who would become one of the most famous and celebrated movie stars of all time, was 29 when he married 16 year old aspiring actress Mildred Harris. Their marriage only lasted 2 years. In 1924, Chaplin repeated the pattern with another 16 year old, Lita Gray. He met Lita when she was just 6 and began taking her on dates around the age of 12.
1954 -- Sam Cooke meets a 12-year old Aretha Franklin and brings her to his hotel room. Before her father interrupted, Aretha said the conversation "took another turn."
In 1957, 23 year old Jerry Lee Lewis married his cousin, 13 year old Myra Brown. She still believed in Santa.
Also in 1957, 16 year old Anna Mae Bullock met 24 year old Ike Turner. He quickly took her into his band, helped make her a star, and began to treat the newly christened "Tina" as if he owned her. They married 6 years later. Tina once wrote that she was afraid not to accept his proposal.
In 1959, Elvis Presley met his future wife. He was 25 and she was 14. They stayed in touch via phone and letters for the next 2 1/2 years. At that time, Elvis took her on a drug romp to Vegas, followed by moving her into his Graceland mansion. They didn't marry until 1967. While both parties claimed that Priscilla was a virgin on her wedding night, biographer Susan Finstad makes a strong case that this could not be true. Priscilla herself has admitted that she & Elvis slept in the same bed and that Elvis "taught (her) other ways to please him." Elvis reportedly had a predeliction for 14 year old girls, both before and after his marriage to Priscilla.
Chuck Berry was arrested and found guilty of transporting an underage girl across state lines for immoral purposes, spending two years in jail in 1960.
In 1969, Sable Starr, queen of the so-called "baby groupies", had a brief relationship with Iggy Pop. She was 13. He later wrote a song about it. Starr had sexual relationships with many other band members, including encouters with David Bowie, Mick Jagger, and Rod Stewart.
It's 1972 and Rock stars are still having sex with little girls and everyone knows it, but no one does anything about it. Lori Mattix tells of losing her virginity at age 14 to David Bowie. She went on to start "dating" Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page that same year, a relationsihp that began when Page's manager kidnapped her and brought her to Jimmy's hotel room. Page kept Lori essentially locked up in his house for most of their 18 months together. The "baby groupie" also reports a sexual relationship with Mick Jagger when she was just 17.
In 1973, married singer Marvin Gaye met and pursued 17 year old Janis Hunter. He wrote "Let's Get it On" as a tribute to his lust for her. Marvin took his teen date to dinner shortly after they met, where he bribed the waiter to bring her alcohol, then had sex with her later that night. They had a baby by the time she was 18, and married in 1977. The marriage lasted just 3 years.
In 1975, Steven Tyler purchased the guardianship of a 16 year old girl (Julia Holcomb) from her mother when he was 27 so that he could legally take her with him across state lines while he was on tour.
In 1978, Ted Nugent also purchases the guardianship of a teenager from her parents. He was 30, Pele Massa was 17. Years later, Ted reportedly received oral sex from a 12 year old Courtney Love.
March 10, 1977. One of the most well-known cases. Director Roman Polanski drugs and rapes 13 year old Samantha Gailey. Allowed to plead guilty to a lesser charge, Polanski nevertheless fled to France before sentencing and remains exiled from the United States. He has not been exiled, however, from Hollywood and continues to make movies and win awards to this day.
Eagles drummer and vocalist Don Henley was arrested in 1980 in Los Angeles after paramedics were called to his home to save a naked 16-year-old girl who was overdosing on cocaine and Quaaludes.
Colored over as a a "grand romance" and a "decades long relationship", Celine Dion was 12 years old when 38 year old Rene Angelil became her manager. They went public with their relationship when she was 19.
I
n 1984, Rolling Stones bassist Bill Wyman started dating Mandy Smith. She was 13. Although they did not marry until she was 18, Mandy says she was 14 when they first had sex. Mr. Wyman has never been investigated, much less prosecuted.
Red Hot Chili Peppers' lead Anthony Kiedis readily admits to having sex with a 14 year old girl when he was 23. According to him, once he confirmed her age he "had sex with her again." In 1986, the 24-year old musician began dating 16 year old Ione Skye.
In 1990, 16 year old Mayte Garcia's mother sent a video of her belly-dancing to Prince. He arranged to meet her, confirmed she was 16 and a year later moved her into his house. When she was 19, he initiated a sexual relationshi by informing her it was time to go on birth control. They married when she was 22 and he was 37. Before Mayte, Prince met "Anna Fantastic" when she was 15. At 17, she moved into his compound where they had a two year long relationship.
In 1991, 32 year old director Luc Besson met and eventually married model Maïwenn Le Besco when she was 15. Their relationship inspired his movie Léon: The Professional (1994), which followed an emotional relationship between an adult man and a young girl.
In 1993, Jerry Seinfeld picked up a high school student in a public park. He was 39 and she was 17. He and Shoshanna Lonstein dated for four years -- through her college years.
Also in 1993, MC Ren of N.W.A. was accused of raping and impregnating a 16 year old girl in the group's tour bus. The case never went to trial, however a paternity test showed that he was the father of the girl's baby.
Noted pedophile R Kelley secretly married R&B singer Aaliyah in 1994 when she was 15 and he was 27. They met when she was 12 and he later helped write and produce her first album -- "Age Ain't Nothing but a Number."
In 1995, teen star Brandy (age 16) started dating 21-year-old Boyz II Men member Wanya Morris. Keeping their relationship under wraps due to her age proved too stressful for the couple and they broke up soon after.
In 1997, Woody Allen should have become notorious when he married his de facto step-daughter. Though she was 21 at the time of the wedding, the two met when she 8. No matter the spin, the facts are stark. This wasn't the only time Allen dated a much younger woman. Actress Babi Christina Engelhardt began a years-long love affair with Allen when she was 16 and he was 41. When Allen was 42, he romanced 17-year-old actress and high school senior Stacey Nelkin.
It's the early-mid 2000s and "That 70s Show" actor, Wilmer Valderrama, continues to date teenage girls in an effort to deny that he is now over 30. He dated 16-year-old Mandy Moore despite being four years her senior. At age 24, Valderrama dated 17-year-old Lindsay Lohan though they kept the relationship a secret until her 18th birthday in 2004. In 2010, the 30-year-old began dating 17-year-old Demi Lovato.
In 2001, Fast & Furious star Paul Walker (28 at the time) was dating 16-year old Aubrianna Atwell. This was not Paul's last time to date a teenager. His girlfriend at the time of his death, Jasmine Pilchard-Gosnell, was 23 to his 40. They met when she was 16.
Back in 2004, 26 year old Joel Madden and Hilary Duff did the familiar dance of being "just friends" until her 18th birthday in 2006. When asked about whether she was intimate with Madden or not in a 2015 interview with Cosmopolitan, Duff stated, "I had a 26-year-old boyfriend. So everyone can make their own assumptions about what I was doing."
In 2005, clean cut TV heartthrob Chad Michael Murray begins dating a girl in high school. They get engaged when she turns 18 and Murray calls her a "little sweetheart" and says they have been together "for awhile."
Similarly, in 2006, co-stars Hayden Panettiere and Milo Ventimiglia began dating. She was 17. He was 12 years her senior.
Actor Doug Hutchison married 16-year-old Courtney Stodden in 2011, when he was 51 years old. The dysfunctional pair became famous as reality stars, with Courtney undergoing extensive plastic surgery to maintain their image.
Rapper Tyga and Kylie Jenner began "hanging out" an awful lot beginning in 2014 when she was 16 and he was 24. They dated on and off after that, though they became a lot more openly "on" after her 18th birthday in 2016.
In late 2018, 44 year old Leonardo DiCaprio publicly reveals that he is dating 21 year old model Camilla Morrone. It's not the age gap that puts Leo on our list, it's the fact that he's known Camilla since she was 11.
2018 -- 14 year old Millie Bobby Brown innocently revealed that rapper, Drake, age 31, has been close friends with her, for the last year giving her advice about boys. He texts her, "I miss you." This is the same Drake who has, more than once, skated around that "just friends until she turns 18" line -- most recently with 18 year old model Bella Harris.
Guys, this isn't a friendship. This is GROOMING. No one will stop it. They'll "date." He'll have sex with her, probably in a couple of years. No one will care because he's a man and a star.
NO ONE WILL CARE UNLESS WE START MAKING PEOPLE CARE.
Make them care. No free passes. No 2nd chances. A ruined career is the least they deserve. It's not cute. THIS IS NOT OK.
~ Verity Violet
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Ez nagy valószínűséggel mind igaz. :(
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downwiththeficness · 3 months
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Shadow and Veil-Chapter Thirty Two
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Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.
A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  
Word Count: ~3500
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Eva stood in the motel bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. Nothing about the reflection staring back at her was any different than it had been several days before. And yet, everything was different.
Her feelings about it were somewhat ambiguous.
Two days ago, Eva would have said that she was happy—no, that she was ecstatic. She was away from Josh, and the business, and the worries all packed together in that house. She was with a man she was slowly developing deep feelings for, that she could see herself loving in the not too distant future. She had money and a destination. Things were looking up.
That was two days ago.
On day one, it hadn’t seemed very important that Horacio was distracted. He was either focusing on the road, or making a call, or memorizing their route on a map they bought at a gas station. By day two, Eva started to worry that something was wrong even though he assured her over and over that everything was going exactly how it was supposed to go.
Today, Eva was beginning to have serious doubts.
She woke alone that morning and the place beside her in the bed was cold. There was no note on the nightstand to tell her where Horacio had gone or when he would return. With nothing else to do, she dressed and wandered to the lobby to find some breakfast and spent about half an hour picking at a bagel before she went back to the room.
There was no sign of him anywhere, but his bag was still sitting next to hers. Eva was certain he hadn’t abandoned her.
Why did she feel so uneasy?
The TV was a nice distraction for an hour or two, but eventually Eva’s worry began to overcome her meager ability to cope. She paced the room, occasionally peering out the window. Then, to keep herself busy, she counted and organized the money so that it laid neatly in her duffel.
Eva ignored the fact that there was a pistol sitting at the very bottom.
When that was done, she emptied her personal belongings onto the bed and took stock. Some of her favorite dresses were mixed in with more comfortable jeans and t shirts. She had heels in black, navy, and brown along with a pair of sneakers. A small cosmetics bag held her make up, a bit of moisturizer, and a hair brush. An even smaller bag held all the most valuable pieces of jewelry she owned—most of them gifts from Myra.
Eva opened the zip and poured out it contents. She was glad she had the foresight to thread her necklaces and bracelets through straws so they wouldn’t get tangled. Eva examined each piece in turn and dropped it back into the bag.
Her wedding ring.
It glinted at her in the low light of the room, a physical reminder that Josh was still alive and that she was technically still married to him. The ring was a simple piece, a two carat diamond set into a yellow gold band. Eva stared at it, turning her hand from side to side so that the facets in the stone flashed at her.
Eva pulled it from her finger—or, tried to. The band caught stubbornly on her knuckle. She turned it and tried again, then wiggled it back and forth. The thing refused to budge.
Little fucker.
Sucking her teeth, Eva dug into her cosmetics bag for her moisturizer and dabbed it around the circumference of her finger. The ring fought against the glide of the lotion, but she was eventually able to get it free of her hand. With a feeling of triumph, Eva tossed the ring into her jewelry bag and zipped it closed.
At the very bottom of the duffel, carefully folded into a linen, was Eva’s baby blanket. The very last piece of her childhood that she had left. Unfolding the linen, Eva lifted the blanket up so that she could see it in its entirety.
It was nothing special. A two by three foot quilt that was somewhat faded. The edges were frayed, but the batting was still thick and fluffy. In one corner, almost completely invisible, was a small “E” stitched in a thread that matched the fabric. Eva ran her thumb over the letter, wishing that she had more memories of her parents to take with her.
She’d left them too young, was too stupid to hang onto them for a few more years. And now, they were gone and all Eva could do was try to remember them. Her mother singing hymns in church. Her father smelling like oil and gasoline after coming in from working on the tractor.
The way cornbread tasted fresh from the oven.
The wail of a record as it played after dinner.
The both of them slow dancing in the kitchen after they thought she was in bed.
Eva wiped her face of the tears and folded the blanket back into the linen. With a sense of ceremony, she put it back into the bag and set her other belongings on top of it. Then, because she was suddenly very, very tired, Eva laid down and rested.
The sound of a lock turning roused her from not-quite sleep. Eva blinked blearily up at the ceiling until her vision came into focus. She turned her head to the side in time to see Horacio closing the door behind him.
“We need to go.”
Her voice was rough when she replied, “Go where?”
“An air strip not too far away,” he explained while he ambled over and sat on the bed next to her. “Its small. Out of the way. Too risky to use the airport.”
Too risky.
Horacio used that term a lot over the last few days. They took the long way into Mexico, crossed the border at night. He guided their car on detours, just in case. In case of what, he wouldn’t say. When she asked, Horacio’s answers were vague and Eva was beginning to tire of it. She sat up and passed her hand over her face with a sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, not wanting to start a fight. Her misgivings were small in comparison to the larger problems they were facing. They could wait until they were safe.
A hand touched her arm, “Talk to me, Eva.”
Oh, now he wants to talk, she thought angrily. What she said was, “Talk to you? Really?”
Eva couldn’t keep the anger out of her tone, nor could she school her face into something less annoyed. She was tired and vaguely hungry, and it was so incredibly frustrating to feel like she was being intentionally kept in the dark.
Horacio’s brows drew together in confusion, which only fueled her ire. She looked away for a moment and tried to figure out if she wanted to uncork the bottle of her feelings.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said airily.
“Nothing?”
“Yes!” Eva hissed, “Exactly.”
He shook his head slowly, “I don’t understand.”
Of course, he didn’t.
She inhaled a calming breath, “You were gone this morning.” Eva held up a hand when he started to defend himself, “That’s not really the problem. The problem is that you haven’t told me anything. Nothing. Not a single answer to my questions. And when you do answer, you won’t elaborate. I have left everything I have ever known to come with you, and you’re making me follow you blindly. You have to understand how frustrating that is.”
Horacio was silent for a moment, as if waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Eva looked away and took another deep breath.
He scooted closer and touched her hand to draw her attention, “The call I made after you agreed to come home with me was to Javier. Josh made bail within an hour. He called in a few favors with state police to find you—his kidnapped wife. We were lucky to already be in Texas at the time. If we hadn’t...it would have been difficult to get you across state lines.”
God, it sounded so logical. If she were a little less angry, Eva might have felt remorse for lashing out at him. Instead, she grew even more frustrated, “You should have told me.”
“I was afraid you would change your mind,” he said honestly, “that you would tell me to send you back to him.”
He was right.
Eva was abashed at how accurately Horacio predicted her behavior. She would have been scared, would have suggested he send her back so that he didn’t compromise his cover. Might have even demanded he put her on a bus back to Louisiana.
The hand atop hers squeezed, “I was afraid I would have to actually kidnap you.”
She almost laughed, her lips spreading in a knowing smile. Horacio nudged her with his shoulder and the laugh escaped her.
“And,” Eva hedged, “everything else? That was only the first day.”
He shrugged, “Caution. I didn’t know how far he could reach. Its why we’re flying into South America on a privately owned plane. Less likely he’ll be able to get his hands on the manifests.”
A slow wave of affection rolled over her. It mollified the anger she felt at being left out of the plan, but didn’t take it away completely.
“You should have told me,” Eva asserted again in a gentler voice, “I would have understood. We could have talked about it instead of…”  She trailed off and gestured ambiguously around.
Horacio nodded, “I thought it would worry you to be looking over your shoulder.”
She could admit to herself that he was right. That any sense of safety would dissolve like cotton candy in water. But, not knowing felt like it made her worry more.
“You’re right,” Eva retorted, “I was worried. But, not about Josh—Josh, I can handle.” Her voice softened with emotion, “I thought, I don’t know, that you…”
Again, she trailed off. Thinking the words was one thing, saying them was another.
“That I…?” he pressed forward as he tried to catch her wandering gaze.
Eva couldn’t look at him, “That, maybe, you changed your mind. It seemed like it was too much work to help me get away.”
She could hear him take a breath. And then he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. Eva chanced a look at him, instantly caught in the intensity of his eyes. He looked upset, but she didn’t sense that the feeling was directed at her.
“I have not…” he began, then started again, “How…?” Horacio’s free hand brushed against the skin below her ear, barely skirting her gland, “My decision is the same.”
It felt good to hear him say it. The knot of anxiety in her chest unwound a bit, allowing Eva to breathe a little bit deeper. Every one of those breaths was touched with his scent, and it calmed her just as much as his words.
“I don’t like it when you don’t tell me things,” Eva admitted.
Horacio pulled his lips between his teeth, “I know that, now.”
“Please don’t do it again.”
“I won’t,” he promised in a voice not much above a whisper.
“Okay,” she said, “thank you.”
Leaning forward, he sealed their agreement with a kiss. His mouth lingered on hers, soft and warm. When he moved to end it, Eva followed. After days of feeling a growing distance between them, she needed the physical contact to ground her.
His arm wrapped around her middle, free hand drifting up her thigh to rest heavily on her hip. Eva leaned into the touch and traced the seam of his lips with her tongue. He let her deepen the kiss, let her shift her weight so that she sat astride his thighs.
Her senses drank him in—his scent, his heat, the way his chest arched into hers. His hands alternated between gripping her hips and sliding beneath the hem of her top to caress the length of her spine.
Horacio broke the kiss, “The taxi will be here soon.”
“Taxi?”
Eva was not ashamed of the neediness in her voice, nor the way she interrupted his response by kissing him until she was dizzy. Horacio certainly didn’t seem to mind.
“For the plane,” he gasped against her mouth. “I, ah, sold the car.”
So, that’s where he was that morning.
Her chin lifted as he peppered her neck with kisses, “The plane…”
She got a kind of rasping ‘uh huh’ in response. He was more focused on nuzzling the hollow of her throat.
“The plane,” Eva said again, “to take me home with you.”
Horacio nodded absently as his fingers curled into the neckline of her shirt. He pulled it to the side, kissing down her chest until he met the cup of her bra.
“To take me home,” she repeated, impassioned, “as your wife.”
Oh, he liked that.
Horacio’s hands moved to tangle in her hair. His kiss grew fervent. Commanding. Eva could only hold onto his shoulders while every touch of his mouth took the very breath from her lungs.
A car horn blared loudly from just outside the door.
Eva flinched, whipping her head to the side. Beneath her, Horacio also stilled. She could feel his breath fanning across her neck and chest.
When she looked at him again, he said, “Taxi.”
Disappointed at the interruption, Eva let Horacio ease her to the side. They sat for a moment, exchanging shy glances.
The horn sounded again.
Rolling his eyes, Horacio stood and went to the door. He opened it and waved to the driver. Then, to her, he said, “I’ll get us checked out. Can you take our bags to the car?”
Eva nodded, “Uh huh.”
After another lingering look, Horacio stepped out into the noon sun and closed the door. Eva ran her hands over her hair and calmed her racing heart. Then, she climbed off the bed and shouldered her two bags.
The taxi outside already had its trunk open. She dropped her bags into it and went back for Horacio’s. By the time she stowed them safely away, he was strolling away from the motel office towards her.
Just like in the bar, Eva found herself unable to look away from him. It was as if the axis of her entire world was balanced squarely on Horacio. His broad shoulders. The little curl that hung down over his forehead. The way his smile grew bigger as he came near.
Eva stood in that spot until he slowed to a stop in front of her. She rose up on her toes to meet him in a brief kiss, couldn’t help but to share his grin when she dropped back down again.
The ride in the taxi was surprisingly short, not even a half hour down a winding road. Horacio had been correct when he said they were going to a small air strip. It was not much more than flattened dirt atop which sat a small propeller plane.
Horacio, carrying two of their bags, greeted the pilot with a handshake and a few sentences in Spanish. Eva, bag slung over her shoulder, offered a smile in greeting and let the pilot take the bag from her. Horacio helped her into the plane, guided her through fastening her seat belt, then saw to his own.
In what felt like no time at all, the plane was in the air and the ground was falling away from her at breathtaking speeds. The ride was a little bumpy, but the pilot looked utterly calm as he confidently navigated them to the South.
A few minutes into the trip, Horacio reached over and took her hand. Eva turned her attention away from the window to find that he was looking at her with a joy that was barely restrained. Although it hardly seemed possible, they were almost to the finish line. Eva’s smile started soft, then spread into a grin, then to a giggle that felt like relief.
When they landed, Horacio guided her to another taxi and gave an address to the driver. In the backseat, he pulled her into his side and draped an arm around her shoulders. Eva let her head rest against him, content, as the car moved through traffic. She lost track of time, didn’t even bother to orient herself as unfamiliar towns passed by. Figuring out where she was could be handled later.
The taxi pulled to a stop in front of a two story house in a residential area. There was no car in the driveway, but the porch light was on. Horacio paid the driver while Eva got their bags. She waited on the sidewalk with them, unsure.
Horacio had no such hesitations. He simply picked up two of the three and ambled up the driveway and onto the porch. Eva, bag in hand, followed him slowly. She watched as he set the bags down and felt behind one of the shutters. He tugged free a key and used it to open the front door.
Horacio looked over his shoulder at her, then jerked his head to the side in a silent bid for her to come with him. Eva stepped through the threshold of the house, looking around with curiosity.
It was sparsely decorated—a couch sitting against the far wall of what was probably the living room, a TV sitting on a small entertainment console. Through an opening she could see a staircase that led to the second floor and on her left was an empty room.
Setting her bag down, Eva closed the door and asked, “Whose house is this?”
Horacio set his bags down, too, and replied, “Ours.”
She looked at him with confusion, “You bought a house?”
He hummed in confirmation, “My apartment was too small for two people.”
Eva’s mouth opened, her confusion growing, “When?”
“Yesterday,” Horacio answered, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “I had a colleague fax me the paperwork to our motel.”
Slowly, Eva put together all the work it would have taken to acquire a property without even being in the same country. It was a lot of fucking work.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, eventually, “I wouldn’t have minded a small apartment.”
His smirk was almost too reminiscent of Diego, “You wouldn’t have minded until we were both trying to use the tiny, tiny bathroom in the morning.” He stepped up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, “It was a place for a single man, not a married couple.”
Eva felt her cheeks warm as he referenced their ‘marriage’. It didn’t really seem to matter to her that it was more or less a piece of paper, that there was no one there to witness it but them. She liked it, all the same.
“How did you even find the place?”
Horacio took her hand and began leading her through the house, “I know the neighborhood. Its quiet. Good schools.”
He was thinking about schools?
The empty room led to a kitchen that had an island topped with groceries. Horacio loosed her hand and began to sort through them.
“You arranged for a house and groceries,” Eva asserted in a dis believing tone.
Looking up from a bag of coffee, Horacio shot her a dimpled smile, “It was Trujillo’s idea.”
“Your colleague.”
“Mmhmm.”
Eva looked at the bounty of food in front of her, “I should send a fruit basket.”
He chuckled, “I’ll buy him a beer after work some time.”
Not convinced that a beer would square the debt, Eva added, “I’ll send his wife a fruit basket.”
Dinner was a kind of soft, sweet bread and fruit served with beer that was ice cold from the fridge. They ate on the floor of the living room, passing a paper plate between them while the TV played quietly in the background.
With the leftovers packed up and their bellies full, they collected their bags and climbed the stairs to a bedroom that already had a bed with fresh linen, a nightstand, and a dresser. Too tired from the journey to shower, Eva pulled on her pajamas while Horacio checked that the house was locked up.
She watched him undress from the bed with sleepy eyes. He climbed in beside her and slid beneath the sheets. Eva stared at him, wondering if she was dreaming. Nothing about the last few days felt real. Some small part of her brain kept telling her that Josh might have actually got her to drink the fentanyl. That she was laying on the floor of The Lounge, dead, and that this was the afterlife.
And then Horacio reached out to take her hand, and Eva’s mind was quiet.
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