#how long can he self finance these tours?

[zot3-flopped]

Louis has to talk a big game about himself and his songwriting abilities because he knows the art doesn't speak for itself. Real artists like Harry don't have to constantly repeat “as an artist“ when they speak or give their opinion on something. It's like those people who describe themselves as “honest“ all of the time. If you're really that honest, why do you feel like you need to keep reminding us?

I think Louis knows deep down that he can't sing and that he doesn't have that “star quality“. That's why he keeps focusing on his knack for honest lyrics. That's why he keeps reminding us that he was the one behind the songwriting for 1D's biggest hits (even though he likely only added a few lyrics here and there). I mean, you can delude yourself all you want, but if the whole industry and general public keeps on commenting that you can't sing and that you act like an asshole, then deep down you're going to know it's true.

There are minor changes he could make, but he doesn't think he owes his fans anything. He talks about how he wants to just be himself and for people to accept him for that. Well, fine, dude, but your “self“ is rude, pompous, and worst of all lazy. And he knows he's lazy too. He will never even bother to dress in a way that his fans like. He just throws on a tank top and sweats for thousands of paying fans just so he can be comfortable. In general, he values his own comfort over his popularity, which will be his downfall.

He could have gotten singing lessons. His voice would've never been as liked as Harry's because it's not deep, but he could've at least had an okay voice. Instead, it's like listening to a screeching pre-pubescent child.

He could have put on a fake persona like some artists do, or even just stepped away from social media completely and become “mysterious“ like his ex friend Zayn. That would've been a smart idea since he can't help but not keep his mouth shut and just pisses everyone off and curses at them.

He could have changed his style, even if it's not what he actually likes. He could have hired a stylist who will style him like a popstar and actually try to make him look attractive (as much as they can...). A large part of popstardom is about looking attractive whether he likes that or not.

He could have stuck to making EDM music since those songs gained more popularity than his Oasis copycat music does now. If popularity isn't what he's after, then whatever. Fine. He doesn't have to do anything I listed, but he doesn't get to complain about getting no radio play or not charting.

I mean, I don't even know if he could be considered an indie artist. He's just got a fanbase who like him because they were fans of him in 1D. Even indie artists get played on the radio once in a while, or their song trends on tiktok. At least popular indie artists like Chappell Roan or Troye Sivan. Louis doesn't keep getting new fans. He's like a throwback act. Most of his fans have been bere since 1D and he's not gaining any new listeners on spotify. There's no opportunity for growth because he doesn't try to make himself appealing in any way.

I just think he's making music as an excuse to tour and party, like you mentioned before. There's no other explanation for why an artist wouldn't TRY. He knows he has a dedicated fanbase and that's all he ever caters to. He knows they'll stick around through every “fuck you“ he throws their way, as his clothing choice, lack of attempt to remember song lyrics he supposedly wrote, lack of attempt to preserve his voice let alone train it to be halfway decent, and lack of stage presence all demonstrate.

He's truly just a rich, entitled brat paying for his own career so he can look like he has a modicum of success and so he can party and do drugs on his fans' dime, while he gives them nothing in return.

Brilliant summary of Floplinson's many failings! 👏👏👏

#how long can he self finance these tours? #with fewer and fewer fans attending #louis tomlinson

[skulljackxiii]

GrojBand Comeback Tour - Laney Penn

Support me over at Patreon: www.patreon.com/skulljackxiii

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(Note: Having always being the voice of reason, I wanted to make sure that she's still acts like the straight man that balances all the weird and crazy antics of everyone else around her. But she'll easily be swept away and participate in whatever scheme her band is cooking anyways due to her unwavering love for her leader Corey. Speaking of which since that's such a core part of her character, I'll add more details behind her background and her history with Corey. Growing up she was raised in a family with military background; her dad being a Staff Sergeant, her mom was a Second Lieutenant, and her brothers being part of the Marine Corps, Navy, and the Air Force. Naturally she grew up with a rough exterior that took every threat head on, not backing down from anything or anyone. Naturally this made her the toughest kid in the neighborhood; being feared, but also all alone in the end with no one around...except for one boy. Corey was in awe, thinking that Laney was the coolest guy around and wanted to be good friends, all while not knowing that Laney was a girl. Being someone of her age that encouraged her, that was so honest, and wasn't afraid to be near her, naturally she developed a crush on him. Though years later she feels that her love life is in danger when she meets Carrie and learns of her past with Corey when she moved away; immediately labelling her as her enemy.)

Role: Laney is one of the key members of GrojBand, taking the role as the bass player and backup vocalist of the band. Along side that, she also has the responsibilities of maintaining the Band's finances as the Business Manager; booking and making sure the band is within their budget and keeping tabs on how much they're making (though her duties in this position is disregarded throughout the entire tour with Corey being the one handling with all the spending and financial actions. This made her suspicious and curious of how Corey got his hands on that kind of money, especially when there wasn't a lot in the band's savings in the first place.) She also instructs basic choreography to add more flare to their performances, but with her military knowledge and combat training she's extra useful being the security team along side Kon.

Bio: Laney grew up in a home that knew nothing but action, discipline, and some more action. Having a family with nothing but boys and a mother that has military background, Laney's appearance and attitude matched with the rest of them; rough, tough, and strong. She always heard that any problem that she faced can be fixed through force, and so whenever there was some bully or random kid making fun of her she would immediately subdue them. Through this no one dared to mess with her, but that caused her to be feared by everyone else as well. With being feared and having the appearance of a boy, Laney grew self conscious about herself and sad that she has nothing that could help cope with her issues. But she got used to it and believed that there was no point on making friends because she never stays in one place for long due to her family's careers. But then, as if life listened to her problems, appears a very bright and happy kid named Corey Riffin. Unlike everyone else, Corey was excited to meet and get to know Laney because of how tough and cool she is for being bold and taking action without any concerns; he always says that Laney is the kind of guy that he wants to be, all while not realizing that she's a girl.

For the first time of her life, she finally met someone that was happy to see her and  wants to hang out. At first she saw him as her irreplaceable best friend, but her feelings towards him would change each time they hung out. The way he speaks and behaves always made her feel laugh and happy, but what really made her realize her feelings was when she sees him speak so passionately about his love of music. The way he speaks about it made her envious, unable to grasp that kind of passion about something that you have so much pride and love for. But he didn't just talk about music he encourages her to try it out. At first she was reluctant and worried that she might break his guitar, but when she attempted playing something inside her clicked. Thanks to Corey she finally found something that she loved and put her time into. But the good times didn't last because during the last year of elementary school, Laney had to move again due to her family's career. They were sad with the thought of separating, but then Corey promised that they'll meet again and when they do they'll form a band and get famous. With that in mind, Laney left with a smile and continued playing music until she saw him again.

Years passed and Laney moved back to Peaceville after her parents decided to retire from their jobs in the military. When she finally met up with Corey it was a big happy reunion for the both of them, though Corey was a bit setback when he took another look at Laney. Unlike before, Laney is now wearing makeup, dressed more feminine, and became slimmer; but since it's his best friend from before he didn't treat Laney any differently (again not realizing that she was a girl from the start). Now with these two reunited, they started making plans and officially starting calling themselves GrojBand.

#total drama #total drama island #tdi #fanart #grojband #total drama fanart #laney penn #laney #punk

[catb-fics]

Sorry for the lengthy ask!

@ pacifymebby I should’ve said Catfish signed away all their rights regarding self released music and going to another record label under their deal length. They are exclusive to Island (Communion records is a subsidiary of Island btw) until their deal is over. Poor wording in my other ask. This is standard for all record deals. Van technically owns the songs he writes and earns royalties on them *if* Island has recouped the money they fronted Catfish initially for each album they’ve released. This money is recouped usually through from album sales but can be taken out of royalties until the label has recouped their money. For example, if Island spent £300k on everything regarding The Balance. Van and/or Catfish don’t get paid in royalties off the songs he’s released until Island’s recouped that £300k.

What I initially meant was that their label controls what’s actually released and when. More recently, record deals for new bands last for 1 album (which would’ve been The Balcony) and depending on the success of the album they can be extended for multiple thereafter. Total speculation but I wouldn’t be surprised if Catfish’s projected 4th album is their last album of this current deal (contracts after the initial album are usually signed on a 3-5 album basis but can go as far as 10+). Anyway, we’ll never know exactly what their contract fully entails as every deal varies between clauses, terms, legal and financial things and are kept private. Sometimes they can prohibit **active** members forming side projects. I’ll touch on that later if anyone’s interested. Bondy and Bob fully left the band, meaning they’re done with their part in the contract and independent musicians now. Benji could be too, but as far as I’m aware he’s sticking with Catfish.

Bands can still be in studio making an album as long as the label approves it. Labels will offer financial support and help bands find producers and recording studios (labels oversee the process as well), with tour and finding tour managers, music videos, band management etc. which is exactly what’s up in the air right now. This “team” is what Catfish have to figure out themselves.

However, record labels are responsible for promo (advertising), interviews, upfront finances, sales (marketing), publicity (a mix of marketing & advertising), contracts, legal issues, the general image of the band, album concepts and merch. This is the record label “team” I’ve been mentioning for a while that Catfish definitely still have since they’re still with Island. If they were no longer signed, they would be listed as alumni or not on their website whatsoever.

Anon that said the crew received a call about their split: that sounds correct and falls under what usually happens in these situations. I had heard a few variations of the same thing with less detail. Van probably jumped the gun with the Cardiff gigs thinking Catfish still had a chance at survival. We all know how Van is. Thanks for that, if true. I’ve been told repeatedly by multiple people with decades of experience and former crew that when shit goes down like this, bands will stay quiet till things are sorted out. It’s a layered process. Which is the “business move” on their label’s side. It can translate into a whole comeback thing that creates mad marketing opportunities and all that. They’re probably going to ignore the whole “split” and play it off as they had a member change while recording an album. Sounds like Van pulled a fast one.

With all that being said, Catfish still being with island, Sardy teasing and VM MUSIC LTD & CATB LIVE LLP in existence is basically guaranteed to be music coming. Again, this isn’t to cause excitement but more of an understanding of what chaos Van has put himself in lmao.

I’ve also asked multiple professionals with decades of experience to look look into this (and more info that I’m not comfortable sharing) and have said regardless of their outer status, it’s very obvious from an inside perspective that an album is coming. Which indicates that they’re going for the comeback marketing once things are done. So there’s that.

This whole thing is whelming and a conversation is needed to address the whole thing and clear things up. I’m not here to fight or argue lol we’re all adults here and can have civilized conversations ♥️ if I’m leaving anything out I’ll address it later - 🌴

Thanks 🌴 anon

Just gonna post as there’s a lot of info here!

#catb asks #🌴 anon

[mythomagically-delicious]

Okay so in a better world au ford and fiddleford created the Institute and made up, right? What happened to stan?

The point of that first post about "the twist" was this: what if Stan and Ford switched bodies and stans was sent into the portal with ford inside, and Stan in Ford's body remained behind. Stan immediately tries everything to turn it back on, to no avail. He went thru hundreds of papers and notes trying to understand ANYTHING and he got some general idea that ford had had a research partner out here who knew things- knew ford, knew the portal, he could help!

Stan in Ford's body races to town instead of staying isolated in the cabin for four weeks, and finds fiddleford. Fiddleford looks confused and stranger than the notes suggested but it matches up. He begs fiddleford to help him, and despite the falling out fiddleford has enough fondness for his old friend remaining that he is swayed. He doesn't get his full mind erased by the society bc he isn't abandoned fully and left wandering the town to be targeted by blind Ivan in his power grab.

Fiddleford and Stan (in Ford's body) go back to the shack and stan starts to take him to the basement when fidds starts freaking out, yelling and crying about the world-shattering consequences. About the things he saw, rhe demon, and more. Stan calms him down, takes him back upstairs. He's frustrated to high heaven and back but he knows he could never do this alone.

(He hasn't told fiddleford who he really is. Yet. He will, he just needs some help first. Who would help a loser like stan? But ford has a friend, he can be ford for a little bit to work the angle and get his brother back.)

It takes time. Way too much time, for Stan, but fiddleford slowly recovers enough of his sanity and calms his nerves enough to go down to the basement and not freak out. Stan admits to anything fiddleford asks him about, anything he saw from Ford's notes and makes it convincing that he's asking for a second chance. Maybe they could rebuild it, better? Without demon assistance?

Fiddleford helps tear it to shreds. They mark every part as they dismantle it and fiddleford searches for the reasons it opened a portal to nightmares. He doesn't follow schematics blindly, any more, no more blind trust to his friend. But he does help. Stan is learning on the job. He isn't convincing in the slightest of being a genius but fiddleford is too frazzled to notice. He's got his own shit going on.

They tear it down. Stan is afraid and angry and desperate but he holds his shit together. Fiddleford regains more of himself as they go. Stan learns more about ford and fiddlefords time together as fiddleford recovers memories and tells them to Stan. Stan makes his own notes, of how to Be Stanford Pines.

In time, they get to a stable place of living in the shack together, Stan trying to learn as much as he can about this science shit, pretending he was hit by the memory gun into forgetting himself when fiddleford questions it. Fidds is afraid to go confront the society, and can't remember where they are anyway. Stan doesn't care about it as long as his cover isn't blown. He hasn't told fiddleford yet. He will! But not yet.

They begin to plan a new, stable trans-dimensional vortex. It takes a whole hell of a lot, but they slowly build it anew. Still in the cursed basement, not even a skeleton of the old machine left after they destroyed it the first time.

Stan is flying less by the seat of his pants. Taking a leaf from Ford's book and staying up to radically terrible hours of the night studying and trying to understand all the science and math shit to make this work, to keep stringing fiddleford into helping him. Fidds takes time for his own projects and Stan doesn't bug him about it, saying if it makes money to split it, and when fiddleford hits a big invention that also happens to patent well and spread? They use the money to help their new portal.

It takes ten years to do it, but they recreate the portal, this time to a place they can control thru careful calibration. Fiddleford writes a scientific paper about it, publishes it with ford as a co-author, and they get international renown. Stan knows how to work a crowd and he uses their leverage to get people invested in investing, so to speak. It's not cheap to fund the energy required to turn it on, so they expand the building and create the Institute of Oddology, given enough time and building and circumstances lining up just right.

Fiddleford runs the teams and the day to day stuff. Stan handles finances and resource allocation and scheduling tours, interested parties, rivals, anything business side. He and fiddleford go to the first stable dimension together , though, and Stan uses all of the science gizmos at their disposal to search for ford while they're there.

He doesn't find him. He still hasn't told fiddleford. Its been too long at this point, right? What if he takes the money and fame and everything and kicks Stan out for lying? He mostly rode fiddlefords genius to get here, there's no way he'd not be mad about this.

They go to many dimensions. Stan takes samples and learns scientific process thru osmosis over the years and contributes to publishibg written works to the greater scientific community.

He looks for Ford. He finds nothing. He tells no one his true purpose for everything he's achieved to that point. He lies and wears Ford's face and shakes hands and is a sham.

One day Fiddleford races to his office, frantic and eyes wide and hands shaking slightly like Stan hasnt seen in years. It's been 30 years since ford was lost to the portal. And fiddleford comes to him and says there's a parallel you, Stanford, in conference room B, we need to send him on his way immediately, you remember what happened to Ernie on that trip 8 years back?

And Stan ignores this, heart pounding, and knocks fiddleford out, locking him in the office, racing to conference room B.

He bursts in, and sees a version of his brother. One he doesnt see in the mirror. A real Stanford Pines, 30 years older than the kids they were when they fought beside the portal. Apparently no universe is fair, if ford ends up inside in multiple dimensions.

Stan is speechless. The portal!ford is on the defensive, but interest is clear in his face. He keeps his distance, cognizant of parallel!fiddlefords warning from before. Of counterparts meeting in a dimension of origin. Annihilation.

Stan cries. Ford looks shocked to see his own self in such a state. He doesn't know what to do. Stan surges forward for a hug and Ford tries to dodge, afraid of the consequences. Stan traps his hands to his sides and sobs on Ford's mysterious black coat, calling him brother. Ford's inner alarm bells go off even as he clenches his eyes shut against the incoming total destruction.

When nothing happens except for a wet patch to grow on Ford's clothes, he opens his eyes and studies himself. They look scarily similar, truth be told. His counterpart heartier than he, an interdimensional fugitive. That makes sense. Parallel ford is apologizing into his jacket and clutching him hard enough to leave bruises.

Ford dodges out of the grapple his counterpart has him in. He demands answers in a clipped tone. Stan does his best to reign it back in as he confesses what transpired in this dimension to this dimension traveling ford. How he hopes his own brother, trapped in stans body, is still out there, still surviving, still where Stan can find him.

Ford starts a fight. Stan defends himself but it gets physical and he doesn't have the same instincts to take down he did when he was younger. He remembers the last fight he had with his brother, and doesn't want that to happen again.

Fiddleford eventually gets free of the office and runs in to see parallel ford beating the shit out of his ford. He stuns ford with a device on his belt and brings things back to some semblance of order, getting a first aid kit out to tend to them both. P!Ford's knuckles, mainly, and stans face.

The truth comes out, ugly and stained and fiddleford forgives Stan immediately. He turns to parallel ford and helps him out of the room, promising help with his weapon and more, later.

Stan is left with the knowledge that all these years later, no matter what he does, his brother hates him.

Fiddleford helps ford with his weapon. If ford can destroy bill cipher, more dimensions will open up to be explored. If his and stans ford is still alive out there, they'll have a better shot if Bill is out of the picture. They send parallel!ford off a few days later. Fiddleford goes to Stan that night and calls him by a name that hasn't been spoken in 30 years. Stan can barely look at him. Fiddleford gives him time and space, but tells him he understands.

A month and a half later, a ripple is felt thru thousands of dimensions at once, the death of Bill cipher in every iteration is making its way thru the multiverse. Celebrations are happening as people cheer and laud thr name of the one who saved them, spread in a cosmic understanding by some greater power. Stanley Pines, shatterer of Bill Cipher.

4 years later, they find Ford. Ford in Stans body is old, ragged. He's missing an eye and an arm and so much more of who he used to be. But they bring him home. He doesn't want to switch bodies back.

Stan feels guilt eat at him, but ford is different than the other traveler they'd met. He's more settled. He thanks Stan for finding him. Doesn't blame him for how long it took. Didn't think he'd be come for anyway.

It's strange and rocky but slowly strides are made to bridge the gap of decades and become people they want to be, again. Brothers, friends, explorers. They never body swap again, but they settle into themselves and own who they are.

#stanley and stanford #fiddleford mcgucket #parallel ford #a better world au #but with a twist #gravity falls #flash fic #i wrote this on my phone #electron carpet #body swap au

[mundane127]

nct127 as ideal summer holiday destinations and what it says about them.

taeil : jeju, south korea. taeil appreciates familiarity and finds comfort in travelling alone where he is able to move at his own pace. he doesn't need to plan out and follow a strict itinerary and need not worry about not being able to communicate. the kind to ditch conventional drives and impulsively ride a bike to enjoy the sea view. loves to self-indulge when he is alone - booking a beautiful suite near the beach and taste the freshest seafood. and yes, since music = taeil, watch him explore the hipster and rustic music stores where he has the luxury to spend as much time as he wish in his personal bubble away from the world.

taeyong : lisbon, portugal. a man of art - taeyong really enjoys that mix of rustic building and the rich culture. he is like a burst of colors, eccentric and expressive. might pop a dance move or two in the middle of the streets and loves to maybe just lay back and have a cup of coffee as he people watch. enjoys the preparation process of holidays, reads up and learns a few lines to communicate with locals. i can just see him with his tinted sunglasses, map in hand and a new friend he met a few minutes ago that finds him really friendly despite a language barrier behind the camera helping him snap pictures. taeyong lives in the moment.

johnny : mallorca, spain. music, beach and chill screams johnny. not getting drunk or going to clubs for five days straight kinda rave but more of enjoying the night scene to the fullest, basking in the local nightlife, unafraid to try interesting concoctions, vibe and free from the shackles of the world at the music festivals and meeting new people from around the world through wine-tasting and paddle surfing. won't hesitate to spend on trying local food and there's always a snack in one of his hand as he walk around. doesn't like plans too, very spontaneous and focuses on making memories even if he ends up at a dead end where he least expects it.

yuta : okinawa, japan. also enjoys domestic travels because he doesn't like the hassle or being bound to a tour guide in somewhere he isn't familiar with. besides, okinawa is a combination of so many other famous summer hotspots! slightly more on the adrenaline side, can dive and snorkle for many days if he enjoys it, researches on the top local food to eat and makes sure to structure a schedule to visit all of them. spends his final day on the beach sun-tanning, no thoughts and no worries at all and taking the opportunity to recharge fully to start afresh after the holiday. not exactly a big fan of shopping.

doyoung : amorgos, greece. apparently, the only way to get to this island in greece is by ferry and can take up to eight hours but the result at the end of it is exactly why doyoung started on this journey anyway. he is not only competitive, but very very tenacious and determined and believes that at the end of a long painful journey, he gets to savour the beautiful view. obsessed with being away from people, loves his alone time and probably carries a diary with him to document his holiday. may have chosen not to buy roaming so he can truly unwind. plans his finances well and stays in a hostel / guesthouse where he can find like-minded travelers.

jaehyun : istanbul, turkey. loves shopping and admiring the cultural elements of this modern yet rustic city. jaehyun gives off an energy where he likes trying everything but not exactly the kind that find importance in meeting new people. also another avid photographer, but rather than pictures of himself, he takes pictures of cats by the streets or locals going about their day. our boy may be a little shy and reserved contrary to what people often see and he is a 'feeler' so he remembers the moments in their scents, sounds and the energy it gives him. a quiet and peaceful traveller, don't want too much attention and emphasizes on blending in.

jungwoo : gold coast, australia. rubs off me as someone who really loves to spend his entire trip high on adrenaline and the capital of amusement parks is where jungwoo will be. has lots of fun even if he takes scary rollercoasters alone. an introvert with extrovert tendencies where he'll unknowingly crack jokes and naturally become the life of the party. his long day ends with him just taking nice long showers in his hotel bathtub with some good music to recharge from all the human interaction. not a detailed planner but likes having a rough idea of what to expect at the next amusement park he is about to conquer. always checks his documents.

mark : san diego, usa. we've seen how he blends in so well with the local asking whether they know that song. lonely travels are exciting because he gets to geek out without anyone else's opinion. honestly prefers nights over days because of human traffic, likes therapeutic activities like watching fireworks and star-gazing or cinemas under the stars. loves to just stand among many and enjoy music. may or may not take part in hot-dog eating competitions because of the sudden burst of energy. in a place where mark doesn't feel out of place and matches his energy, it is where his true self is unleashed.

haechan : bangkok, thailand. bold is the only word to describe haechan. crazy nightlife, food and shopping that he just cannot resist. wants to try everything and doesn't give two shit about anything else. so spontaneous and his only worry is about not having enough fun. haechan is youthful and i can only see him being so even in future. never plans and may lose his passport but doesn't sweat a single bit, he is street-savvy and he is definitely a master at thinking on his feet. probably someone who is actually very realistic and understands that everyone is living on borrowed time and why not make the best of it while he can.

#nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct reactions #taeil scenarios #taeyong scenarios #johnny scenarios #yuta scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #jungwoo scenarios #mark scenarios #haechan scenarios

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Four

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: @dragonballluver (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Previous

“27 down is ‘falafel.” 

Alfred looked up, shooting a glare at Demetria. Her lips curved into a childish grin. 

“The bloody hell is a falafel?” he asked, unamused at the word. 

“It’s a fried ball made up of chickpeas and beans. It’s actually delicious.” 

He shook his head. “You Americans and your fried food.” He returned his gaze back down to the Gotham City crossword. Demetria snuck another glance at the crosswords, looking for another one she knew right off the bat. 

“14 across is ‘David Cassidy.’” 

The old man shot her another dirty look. She shrugged her shoulders, desperately trying to hold in her laugh. “I’m sorry.” 

Across the yacht, Bruce shifted his attention from the newspaper he was reading and watched the two with an amused smile on his lips. None of the girls he ever brought home acknowledged Alfred (with the obvious exception of Rachel) and if they did it was to ask for something. Demetria had made an effort to get to know and befriend the old man, knowing how much Alfred meant to Bruce. Their friendship and playful banter was something Bruce could get used to for years and years to come. 

Demetria made eyes with Bruce and walked over to him, her white babydoll dress blowing with the wind. She pat his legs, motioning him to scooch over. He obliged and she curled up against him, propped up on his lap.

“You looked a little lonely over here,” she said. 

He smirked. “You pushed Alfred to his breaking point, didn’t you?”

“I forget how seriously that man takes his crossword puzzles.” 

The couple chuckled as Demetria played with Bruce’ slick back hair. The salty aroma filled her nose as the noise of waves crashing against the yacht filled her ears. 

“Feels so good out here,” she sighed. “Definitely one of your better ideas.”

“My better ideas? Since when did I ever have an idea that wasn’t good?”

“The one time you took me to that new restaurant and I got food poisoning.” 

He laughed, the memory coming back to him. She refused to let him see her in such a state, but he came over anyway to make sure she was hydrated and functioning. 

Needless to say, they never went back there and he owed her big time.

Bruce lifted the newspaper up and continued reading, Demetria reading along with him. 

“Anything interesting going on back home?” she asked. 

“Nothing but the usual mobster activity and an editorial piece about the overwhelming amount of Batman copycats.” 

She hummed. “I can’t help but wonder if Batman feels bad about the copycats.”

“I’m sure it gets annoying after awhile.”

“Do you think he feels responsible for them?”

There are times he wants to tell her he’s Batman, but he wants to keep her away from that part of him. He’s been successful so far, why bother bringing her into it now?

Then she changed the subject.

“What’s this?” She pointed at a section of the paper. “‘Witnesses say clown robbed downtown city bank?’”

Bruce took a quick glance at it. “Must be about that bank robbery downtown from yesterday.” He looked over at her to find a disgusted look on her face. “What?”

“I just...clowns...ugh.” She shivered. “Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You’re afraid of clowns?”

“How could you not be? They’re creepy. Didn’t you ever see ‘It’ or ‘Poltergeist’?”

He chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“Well they scare the shit out of me.”

“So I should cancel the clown I hired for our wedding?”

She slapped his arm. “You’re an ass.”

Bruce set down the newspaper. “Speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if you had any ideas or preferences in terms of location?”

She shook her head. “Zero. You?”

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking Wayne Manor.”

Her eyes lit up, a huge smile slapped across her face. “I would love that!”

“Really?” He cocked his head back.

“Yeah! I mean the property is beautiful, plus it’s something that would be comfortable and simple for us.” 

“You’re sure you want to do it at Wayne Manor?” Bruce asked. 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Babe, we could go to city hall and get it done and I would still be the happiest woman alive. I don’t care how we get married, I just want to be with you.”

While he never needed a reminder of why he loved her, it was times like these that did. He’d never come out and say it, but underneath the wealth and the vanity he used to mask an protect his true self, he valued the simple things that money could never buy. Demetria shared those same values. Both longed for a quiet and intimate life together which was more than enough. 

“I only ask two things,” Demetria said. 

“Anything.” 

“One, we plan this together. This our day, not just mine and not just yours. It’s ours.” 

“Not an issue at all.” 

“Two, this wedding is as small as possible.” 

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s done deal.” 

As they leaned in for a kiss, the sounds of the helicopter landing drew their attention from each other. They watched as it made a graceful landing. 

“The plan has arrived for you sir!” Alfred called out. 

Demetria pat Bruce’s knee as she got up. “Have fun breaking off this deal in China.” 

Bruce threw off his white shirt, handing it to her.  He grabbed the duffle bag and threw it overboard. 

“Please be careful, Bruce.” 

“For you, I will.”

He gave her a quick kiss before diving into the water. She watched as he swam over to the helicopter before climbing aboard.

She watched as the helicopter flew away before turning to Alfred. 

“What number are we on, Alfred?” 

“Eighteen across. The clue is ‘Get your own bloody crossword.’” 

_____________________________________________________________

A couple days later, Demetria found herself at the entrance to St. Swithin’s Home For Boys. She was grateful the orphanage had taken her call and allowed her to come visit. 

She made her way to front desk area, smoothing out her pants. She smiled at the elderly nun at the desk. 

“Hi, I’m Demetria Gallagher,” she greeted. 

The nun smiled back. “Hello there! We’ve been expecting you! My name is Sister Agatha. You’re here for the tour, correct?” 

“Yes! I was hoping to speak with the Mother Superior or Monsignor O’Malley.” 

“Unfortunately both were unable to make it due to prior commitments; however, they asked that Sister Mary Ellen give you the tour.” 

“Sounds great!”

“Please a seat while I phone her.” 

Demetria sat in the bench across from the desk, eyeing around the orphanage. It’s old age was definitely showing. She made mental notes of the broken down wood, the cracks in the wall, and the lingering dust. Her mother would love a project like this. 

“Miss Gallagher?” 

Demetria looked up to find a nun in her late thirties with kind brown eyes and a welcoming smile. “My name is Sister Mary Ellen. How do you do?” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Demetria said reaching out her hand. 

Sister Mary Ellen shook it. “A pleasure to meet you as well. We’re so excited you’ve taken an interest in the orphanage.” 

“Bruce has told me so much about this place and I’ve always wanted to come see it for myself.” 

“The Wayne Family is such a big part of the orphanage’s history. Bruce has been so generous to us in the past.” 

Sister Mary Ellen first took her to the library, named in memory of Martha, Bruce’s mother. Despite it’s broken state, the walls were covered in old books stacked in the shelves. 

“Not a lot of boys spend time in here,” Sister Mary Ellen said. “We’ve been trying to get them to, but some are harder to persuade than others.” 

“Understandable,” Demetria assured.

Next was the kitchen, then the chapel, and then some of the dorms. While the building was historic, its structure and the components inside were out of date and almost out of function. 

There were a a good amount of kids staying in and they deserved a better home. 

“May I ask you something?” Sister Mary Ellen questioned. 

“Of course.” 

“There’s been a lot of talk amongst the nuns about what it is you plan to do and I just...well...what is your intention exactly?” 

Demetria chuckled. “It’s ok. I can completely understand the curiosity.” She sighed. “Bruce has always told me how much this place has meant to him, especially after the death of his parents. I know it’s hard for Bruce to give attention to this place and so I wanted to step in and make sure you’re getting not only what you and the boys need, but what you deserve. You all deserve to be living in better conditions and I can guarantee you Bruce agrees with me.” 

“What is it you can do for us?” Sister Mary Ellen asked. 

“My mother works as an interior designer and would be more than happy to help redecorate. I also know a lot of people who can help make sure this place is functioning properly and is up to all health code standards. I want to make sure you all are taken care of and are given the attention you all deserve.” 

Sister Mary Ellen couldn’t help but smile. “What about finances? I know the monsignor and Mother Superior would ask to be kept apprised.” 

“They would be. That’s something I’m currently working on, but I want to know what I’m at least working with here.” She smiled. “Although, my mother would do this for free. I know that for certain.” 

Sister Mary Ellen chuckled. “Let me take you outside.” 

She led Demetria to playground where Demetria noticed four boys playing basketball. She couldn’t help but notice that no matter how hard they tried to dunk the ball in the chain basket, they kept missing. 

“May I?” Demetria asked. 

“By all means.” 

Demetria made her way over to the boys. One boy had black hair with blue eyes, another was African-American with glasses, another boy had blonde hair and freckles, and one with brown hair with glasses.   

“Hey guys!” Demetria greeted.

The boys stopped and looked at her. “You guys playing basketball?” 

They looked at each other, confused and unsure what to say. She cleared her throat. “My name’s Demetria.” 

“I’m Travis,” the boy with black hair said. 

“I’m Jonathan,” the African-American boy said. 

“I’m Reid,” the boy with blonde hair said. 

“I’m Harry,” the boy with brown hair said. 

“Nice to meet you all,” Demetria said. “So what are we playing here? One-on-one or Horse?”

“Just some one-on-one,” Reid answered with a shrug. 

“You know how to play?” Harry asked. 

“A little. My dad was a high school basketball coach so he taught me a few things. Can I see the ball?” 

Travis passed her the ball. She dribbled it for a bit before shooting the ball into the basket. The boys stared in amazement, letting out some “whoa”s. 

“Alright, so who wants to be able to dunk a ball?” she asked. 

They all raised their hands. “That’s exactly what I thought. Ok so watch my hands.” 

She picked up the ball and demonstrated the throw with her hand. “See the way my hand curves, like I’m flicking my wrist? Try that.” 

Reid took the ball first. He dribbled the ball before throwing it up. The ball went through the basket. The boys cheered. 

“See? That was awesome!” Demetria said. She held up her hand for a high five which he reciprocated. “Alright, who’s next?” 

Harry went up and threw the ball, making it into the basket. 

“Way to go dude!” Demetria cheered, the two high diving. “Who’s next?” 

Jonathan went up and threw the ball, the ball circling the basket before falling off. Demetria caught it and threw it back to him, seeing the dejected look on his face. 

“You almost got it. Try again.” She smiled at him. 

He gave her a nod. He tossed the ball up, this time the ball landing into the basket. The boys and Demetria cheered. 

“See! You got it!” she said. 

They high fived and Jonathan passed the ball to Travis. Travis dribbled before the ball hit the back of the basket. The ball came back toward him as he caught it, tossed it again and then tossed the ball inside the basket. 

The other boys and Demetria cheered. 

“Ok, ok,” Demetria said. “Now you guys trying playing.” 

The boys then began playing one-on-one, Demetria coaching them and cheering them on. She couldn't help but feel her dad would be proud of her. Sure, she wasn’t an athlete, but she learned a lot from watching him coach from the sidelines all these years. 

She then saw Reid pass the ball to her. “Your turn,” he told her. 

She smiled. “Alright.” 

She dribbled the ball before tossing it into the basket. She grabbed the ball and said, “Who’s next?”

“What’s going on here?” 

Demetria turned around to see Bruce walking over. Her smile grew. “Just playing some basketball.” 

She watched as the boys’ eyes stayed on Bruce, wide in amazement and wonder. He acknowledged them with a warm smile before gazing at Demetria. 

“Tell me, boys, how she doing?” he asked. 

The responded, each voice overlapping the other. 

“She’s pretty good.” 

“She’s good.” 

“Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Demetria tossed the ball to Bruce as he caught it in his hands. “Let’s see you’ve got, Wayne,” she challenged playfully. 

“Those are fighting words,” he responded, dribbling the ball a bit. 

He turned his back to her and tossed the ball as it went into the basket. The boys cheered and clapped as Bruce turned to her, throwing his hands up. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “It was just a lucky shot.” 

Bruce looked over to one of the boys. “Can I have the ball, please?” They tossed him the ball. He showed it to Demetria. “Why don’t you try and steal it, Gallagher?” 

Demetria went over to him as he lifted the ball from her. She jumped, spiking it from his hands. Jonathan caught it and tossed it back to her. She went to shoot it into the basket when Bruce spiked it out of her her hand and picked her up swinging her around. 

“Are you kidding me?! I almost had it!” Demetria screamed. 

It was then something caught her eye. A figure watching them from across the street. 

“Hold on, hold on,” she told Bruce. 

He stopped, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Give me a sec. I think I see something.” 

She walked toward the gate, getting a closer look at the figure. It was a caucasian male with a black baseball cap that said ‘Gotham Times’ on it and a tee and jeans with a bulky vest. Across his neck, a camera. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she called out to him. “There’s kids here!” 

The man reached up to his camera as she continued to get closer. 

“Stop it!” she growled. “Stop!

Bruce rushed over to her, pulling her away. “Demetria, don’t.”

She turned to him. “He’s photographing the kids! He can’t be doing that!” 

“Listen, we’ll take care of this when we get home,” he told her. “Right now, just ignore him. The more you go after him, the worse it’s going to be.” 

She ran a hand through her hair. “There has to be a line drawn, Bruce.” 

“We’ll take care of it home, alright?” 

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He kissed her forehead. “You were protecting the kids. It’s gonna be ok. We’ll fix this.” 

He rubbed her arms. “Let’s go back, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

She took one more look at the photographer before walking away. Bruce had a point, they were going to take care of it. 

She was going to take care of it. 

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #the joker #christian bale

[sirpoley]

On the Four Table Legs of Traveller, Leg 1: Mortgages

Mongoose Traveller's starship mortgage-payment-system is the most brilliant game mechanic I've ever encountered, as a DM. It's also the first rule I'd ignore if I wasn't consciously trying to play the game exactly how it's described in the book.

A Bit of Background

I've been involved in two Traveller campaigns in the past as a player (both with the same DM), and am currently DMing a third. All of them are using Mongoose's first edition. I've never played any other edition of traveller, and know almost nothing about the history of the game. I don't know which mechanics are unique to this edition of Traveller and which have been around for decades.

In the campaigns in which I was a player, I think the DM was continually frustrated with the rules of the game. He wanted to run a tight, story-focused campaign and picked up Traveller assuming it would be, essentially, D&D in space. For his second campaign, he chopped out huge chunks of the ruleset and replaced it with homebrew ones, removing space travel and Traveller's quirky character creation entirely. This worked for the game he wanted to run (he's an extraordinarily talented DM), but I think we all came away feeling pretty lukewarm about the actual rules.

Bored out of my mind in lockdown, desperate for anything to shake up the daily routine, I picked up the copy of Traveller that had been sitting on my bookshelf, untouched, and skimmed through it. In a mood of "I'll humour this weird rulebook," I followed the random subsector creation chapter to the letter, creating a surprisingly-well fleshed out chunk of space to play around in.

It was then that I realized I'd never actually played Traveller. So I dragged my partner along in an experiment: let's play Traveller, exactly how it is described in the book, no matter how flat-out insane the rules seem to be. I will only consider houseruling or changing a rule once we've both figured out what it's for. I learned a ton in this experiment, so, during my kid's naps (oh, right, I have a daughter now, that's where I disappeared to, Internet), I'll write about what I've learned.

(The Carlia Subsector. Not pictured: along with this map is a LONG word document describing the atmosphere, gravity, population, tech level, cultural quirks, government, etc. of the main world in each of these systems, plus a huge table of the price of dozens of trade goods on each planet. These, it turns out, are crucial game aids. I'll get into them later.)

Traveller, I've learned, is a table held up by four legs: Finances, Character Creation, Patrons, and Random Encounters. If you remove any of these legs, the rest of the game stops working. Following them, as described, gives you a rip-roaring swashbuckling adventure of fighting pirates, escaping bounty hunters, smuggling, jailbreaks, and all that good stuff you want in a campaign—but it happens spontaneously. I'll get into it more in detail, but for now, we're going to talk about finances in Traveller.

Yes, the Game Is About Mortgage Payments

The central driving mechanic of Traveller is making mortgage payments for your starship. The assumption is that the player characters are part-owners of an FTL-capable starship that's more expensive than any one person, or any ten people, could ever afford outright. The game (thankfully) provides a quick way to calculate your starship's mortgage payments (something like the value of the ship/240 per month), and for all of the example ships in the book, gives them to you pre-calculated. In the case of my solo campaign, my partner owed the bank a whopping 500,000 credits a month for her Corsair. For scale, that's the exact same price as the single most powerful gun in the game (the "Fusion Gun, Man Portable"), owed monthly. In D&D terms, she had to raise the equivalent of a +5 Longsword every. Single. Month.

(In addition to mortgage payments are smaller fees: life support (i.e., food and water), crew salaries, fuel, and ship maintenance, but the mortgage is by far the largest single expense, so that's what I'll focus on).

I started my partner out with a fueled up and fully-crewed ship (we used pre-generated NPC stats from the middle of the book for her crew, plus an NPC who was generated during her character creation, which I'll get into later). Character creation started her with 10,000 credits, and I told her she had until the end of the month to multiply that by fifty times.

Debt Leads to Trade

The fastest way by far in Traveller to make money is to interact with the very well fleshed-out trade rules. Each spaceship has a certain amount of tons of cargo it can carry, and each world has a list of trade goods for sale at various prices. So the clear way to raise that 500 grand was to speculatively buy trade goods, pick up passengers and freight, deliver mail, and so on. These rules are generous; by stacking modifiers, it's possible to reliably quadruple your principal every time you reach a new planet (which happens every week).

I think my old DM severely nerfed the trade rules (he also didn't enforce mortgage payments, leaving them on the cutting room floor like D&D's Encumbrance rules) due to this seemingly-unbalanced generosity. Again: the best gun in the game is 500,000 credits—so how on earth can a system that lets you make hundreds, even millions, of credits by trading stand?

Well, it turns out, the bank simply taking 95% of your player's earnings every month severely dampens potentially-snowballing nonlinear growth, so my partner and I never saw the kind of wealth explosion that looks inevitable from the rules as written, despite her scraping together everything she could do maximize profits. In all the time we've been playing, despite having already made millions of credits, she actually hasn't been able to buy a gun better than her starting laser pistol, or, in fact, any armour at all. I'll get to why in a moment, because the most important thing about the trade system is that…

Trade Leads to Travel

Garden worlds sell cheap food. High-population worlds buy food for a high price. High-population worlds sell manufactured goods that are in high-demand on non-industrial worlds, and so on. In a quest to maximize profits, the party was locked into a continual tour of the subsector I generated earlier, constantly moving from place to place. Staying put for any length of time meant letting time trickle away (time that could be spent raking in cash for crippling mortgage payments), so that wasn't an option. What wound up happening was that the party went on a self-guided tour of the subsector, stopping in at colourful worlds I'd generated earlier. This happened entirely without me, as DM, having to dangle bait in front of the party the way that I always have to in D&D. Travel is good, because…

Travel Leads to Conflict

I've already spoken at length on the subject of random encounters here, but Traveller really builds the game around random tables in an elegant way. Every time the party jumps from one world to another, there's a chance they'll get waylaid by pirates (the rulebook has a fun, albeit hidden, 'pirate table' that describes different tricks and hijinks that pirates use to attack). 'Pirates' in Traveller are spaceship owners unable to pay their mortgages by legitimate means, so turn to piracy. The fact that the party is always carrying their life savings in trade commodities whenever they travel around makes them a prime target for piracy, and leads to combat with stakes beyond "fight till everyone's dead." The pirates aren't orcs, and don't want to kill the players for no reason. They want to take their cargo and get away as quickly as possible, suffering the least damage as possible, and the players want the opposite. Thus: pre-combat negotiations, tricks, hijinks (my partner, carrying a cargo of "domestic goods," chose to have her crew throw individual toasters out of the cargo bay each in different directions to ensure that the pirates had to engage in lengthy EVA-missions to catch them each, thus allowing her ship to escape without suffering damage).

Traveller's starship battle rules are fun (and integrate into boarding actions that results in player-scale combat), and are triggered primarily just by moving around. Conflict is fun by itself (that's why combat rules are most of the rules in most games), but in this context, have the added advantage, as…

Conflict Leads to Tradeoffs

It became clear to my partner after her first run-in with pirates that her ship and crew were under-gunned. While buying powerful weapons and armour is trivially cheap compared to the amount of money she was raking in through trade (most weapons cap out at a few thousand credits, and she was moving hundreds of thousands a week), actually getting her hands on some was another matter.

Good weapons in Traveller are advanced ones, which have a high-TL (tech level) rating. These weapons are only available on high-TL worlds (each world has a TL rating generated in subsector generation). Making a detour from trading to buy 'adventuring equipment' wound up being an extremely costly endeavour, taking the party weeks out of the way of the most profitable trade route. The closest world in which these weapons exist also outlaws all weapons (various laws are generated procedurally as well) which means engaging in black market smuggling (which is fleshed out in the rules) and risks run-ins with the law.

Compounding this problem was that her Corsair took minor damage in the combat with the pirates, and the nearest world with a shipyard capable of repairing the ship was different from, and out of the way of, the high tech world with fancy fusion guns. Also, getting the ship repaired meant that it would be in drydock for days or even weeks, which incurs an opportunity cost of almost a million credits that could have been made during trade…

Tradeoffs lead to Debt

In her case, she wound up getting her ship repaired, forgoing arming herself and her crew, and skirting dangerously close to bankruptcy kicking her heels as her ship was patched up. There isn't an easy answer to what she 'ought' to have done, which was fun as hell. Further, as a DM, I wasn't annoyed that she was 'messing up the plot' by staying put (or frustrated that she wasn't going to my elaborately-plotted narrative that would occur when she tried to buy black market weapons) because there was no plot. Everything that came about emerged procedurally.

The 'Loop'

The beating heart of a Traveller sandbox campaign is this loop:

Without DM intervention (or Patrons, which are sort of procedurally-generated adventure hooks), this loop can sustain a campaign pretty much indefinitely. What this means as a DM is that any DM-interventions (i.e., adding in pre-written adventure hooks or encounters or whatever) can be attached to any of these steps to allow it to come about during play. It also means that if you don't have any pre-scripted content (to choose an example completely at random, let's just say your hypothetical one-year-old threw your notes in a toilet) you can just sit back and let the loop above take care of providing entertainment.

To bring this back to mortgages, if your players don't have the threat of having their spaceship repossessed by the bank hanging over them like the Doom of Damocles, then the whole system breaks down, and the DM has to do all the heavy lifting of providing character motivation to go explore new planets.

Next, we'll talk about how Traveller's patron system ties into all of this.

#TravellerRPG #Traveller #FourLegsofTraveller

[psychewithwings]

Love Bakugo: Pt. 3 Missing Person

Sorry for the WAITTTT, I love you guys so much xxx

It was easier to get your boyfriend to forgive you. You’d looked back through your old facebook photos and found a similar picture from when you were back at UA. “We were just recreating the photo for the announcement of our alliance,” you’d said. Your boyfriend was still grumpy but he had offered to take you to work tomorrow. You had agreed, begrudgingly, not wanting to spend much time with him in close quarters. That night you had gone to sleep, as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You tried to imagine nice things but you wanted to be in your own space. Your heart felt heavy laying in bed with the man you no longer loved. Part of you wanted to wake him up now, throw him out of bed, and yell at him that you knew everything. But you thought about how many guys just get a talking to and nothing else, they learn nothing and continue to hurt people. This was the last time your boyfriend would hurt someone. It was ending with you. It was lucky that Bakugo had surprised you at your house this morning with a “surveillance job”. You apologized to your boyfriend flippantly saying, “duty calls,” and then jumped into Bakugo’s car with your hero costume on. “So, what’s the job?” you asked once inside. Bakugo smirked, “there’s some bagel’s that really need us to keep their eye on them…” he said and then, like he did once in a blue moon, he laughed. “You really just picked me up to get breakfast with you?” His eyes softened but his focus was still on the road. “You shouldn’t spend time with him,” he said gruffly. “Thanks…” and even though it was said softly and simply, you’d meant it. You and Bakugo had been practically estranged since your days at UA but if you hadn’t had him right now, you’d still be oblivious to your boyfriends mistreatment. “Yeah, always,” he said. Your breath caught in your throat as you remembered the last time Katsuki had said those words to you. You pushed the thought from your mind as you got out of the car and followed Katsuki into the bagel place.  

He had paid for everything insisting he had to because he hadn’t issued you your first paycheck yet. “You can laugh, Y/n. It was a joke.” You had laughed then, but it was a nervous laughter. Even in all the years you’d known him, he had never been so gentle with you. At UA, you were often partnered together. You weren’t a good match against each other because your quirk was mental warfare and his was incredibly physical. Amokenisis, the manipulation of love. It had it’s limits of course but as long as your opponent could hear your voice or if you could touch them, they were putty in your hands. That’s why Bakugo was such a tough match. His explosions made it difficult for you to get close, and they were loud, drowning out your siren song. “I HATE YOU Y?N,” he’d would yell in your face after losing a match to you. But this turned into you two training together most days upon Aizawa’s advice. Because when you two worked together, you were unstoppable.

Durring breakfast you’d kept your mouth shut about the memories that were passing, like cars. You weren’t ready to talk to him about the letter again, or his “always.” Bakugo opened up his car door for you but he said nothing and did not look your way.  Katsuki wasn’t stupid and you were sure he was watching the same film in his mind. The drive was silent, save the few bits of interjected banter to keep the awkwardness at bay. Always. The memory was so strong, you could still feel his hand against your cheek. Always.

“You ready?” he asked as you both swiped your ID cards upon entrance. “Never been more ready for anything in my life,” you said smirking. He lead you to the top floor and into an empty room with large bay windows and a single desk. “If you don’t like this one, there’s others downstairs,” he said plainly. “No no, I like it, very much… and it’s close to you,” you said more flirtatious than you had meant. Bakugo did not respond to your advance, however unintentional, and instead turned to walk out. “Lemme give ya the tour or whatever.” You followed him out of the door and began taking the tour. In the first few steps, viewing the lobby, he took your arm and looped it through his. He tried his best to walk beside you. You could see it was difficult for him to move at this slow of a pace. He always walked as if he was burning his path with his feet, where as you preferred to saunter, stopping to smell the roses. He eyed you from the side, “can you hurry up just a little, we have staff meeting in an hour and theres a lot of my agency to show off to ya.” He gave you that cocky grin you’d grown to love.

He showed you the underground training centre, which had a pool and an obstacle course for heroes to practice on. He showed you support, where all the hero equipment was made and distributed. You could see your boyfriend watching you from the glass walls of his office, which oversaw all the work tables, where his subordinates tinkered with finding solutions to the constant hero problems. He glared at Bakugo, but changed his tone, when Bakugos gaze shifted to follow yours. You waved at your boyfriend, your arm still linked with Katsuki’s.

The meeting was held in the training centre. There were about 500 members of staff there already chatting and smiling. You stood next to Bakugo on a large raised structure, in front of a microphone. A large projection blinked numbers and stats on the blank wall behind you. He had wanted to introduce you to the team and you felt incredibly nervous. You’d always been humble and never given your popularity much thought. You understood the value of your quirk, but you became a hero because you knew you were powerful enough to keep people safe, you didn’t do it for attention. “Cant I just go with the others and listen?” you asked Bakugo. He scoffed at you, “no, you’re too good to just listen, Y/n.” You knew that was the end of the conversation so you starred into the sea of eyes and tried not to feel too self conscious. You watched as a woman walked into the training centre, she was pretty, her hair was long and her smile was blinding. You watched as she began talking with a few other heroes. Her laugh rang out like a song and your heart dropped, something told you that was her. Of course it was… Bakugo must have caught on because he squeezed your hand tighter, and just like the night at the train station, he didn’t let go.

Your boyfriend was one of the last to enter and he looked like a mess. His arms were crossed and his lip was pulled up slightly, in contempt. “Guys, lets pipe the fuck down,” he said into the mic. Was this how Bakugo started all his meetings? “Okay, so finances are good, our agents are the best in the city, who cares, that’s not what’s important today. Everyone, please welcome my good friend Y/n, or as you all know her Amor Rose. We’re really lucky to have her.” The crowed cheered… for you. You laughed nervously then smiled and accepted the applause. “You wanna say anything?” Katsuki asked you. You felt like you should so you nodded. “Shut it! She’s talkin’” he said. The room fell silent, save for the microphone’s feedback and all eyes were on you. “Oh, well, I just wanted to say that I’m really excited to be here, and I hope to make you all, and especially Katsuki proud.” The crowed cheered again and you felt ready to walk back to the quiet of your office.

The meeting seemed to be breaking up when a woman ran onto the platform carrying a small file. She whispered something to Katsuki and then scuttled off. Katsuki opened the file and looked it over carefully. “Before everyone goes, we just received a pretty severe missing person’s case.” The projection changed from stats to… oh dear god!  It was your boyfriends high school year book picture. “This is the message from the concerned party, ‘I’ve tried connecting with my old friend from high school for years and I haven’t found anything related to them. I am worried something bad has happened and no one knows… he was kind of a loner and wasn’t super close with his family. Bakugo Agency… please help.’ Files will be distributed accordingly. Let’s get to work and get this guy some answers.” You turned to see your boyfriend red faced and fuming. Did he know it was you? Did he suspect? Bakugo was dragging you off the platform before you could get a good enough read off of your boyfriend.

Bakugo was pulling you back to the locker rooms of the training centre. Once you were out of earshot you both burst out laughing. “Did you see his face?!” you exclaimed. “I sure fucking did,” he said and you laughed more. “I can’t believe it! When did you set that up?” Bakugo looked down at you, eyebrow raised. “The moment you told me there was a bad picture, you dummy,” he said playfully. You hit his shoulder softly, “don’t call me that!” You both laughed again and then you looked up at him. “You’re the best,” you said. He wrapped his arms around your back and pulled you into him, his eyes still trained on yours. “I know,” he said. “No, I mean it,” you pushed. A thick stillness hung above where you both stood in the deserted hallway. Looking at his face, you saw the letter in your minds eye. You pulled away  slowly, feeling more confused than ever. Revenge was becoming less important by the second.

Tag List: @rebel---black​ @random-fandom-girl-24​ @unawi13-blog​

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #mha #bnha #bakugo x reader #bakugo fan fic #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you

[zot3-flopped]

"Louis never blames himself or questions his own work when it comes to all the ‘obstacles’ he had and has to deal with. It’s always blamed on radio stations, the industry as a whole, music managements, Harry styles who is now bigger than anyone, how dare he?! It’s never his own decisions." ///

THIS!! Louis is someone who will never or can ever own upto his own mistakes, decisions or actions. He will always choose to blame it on others.

His contribution in singing in 1D : "I was never given the opportunity to sing."

1D breaking up : "I wasn’t ready for it. I felt like I was getting to be a better songwriter, singer, a more confident performer, and all of a sudden, when I felt I was finally getting some momentum Ok! Haitus" and ofcourse it is Harry's fault too.

His ass hat fashion choices : " If I went back to Doncaster and I was dripping in Gucci or whatever, I’d probably get whacked."

His solo album taking 4 years to make : His own laziness and "I took so long on this album.... couldn't help but crave a 'hit' single" after a career of "straight down the middle pop."

No industry person, producer, songwriter or artist not wanting work with him : "When you’re putting together material as a soloist, you quickly learn that those hot-shot collaborators who once dribbled to work with One Direction no longer pick up the phone so readily. I couldn’t say to you now that I could definitely get a superstar writer in a session with me. And I understand that.”

Special thanks to :

Tomlinson adds, with no real vinegar, that not all of his former bandmates will be operating in these same straitened circumstances: “Harry won’t struggle with any of that.” Wonder why???

His own fans harassing his son and girlfriend : Larrybaiting every opportunity he gets.

Having a self financed documentary : Charlie encouraged him to have one.

Radios or the gp not playing or listening to his music : "Obviously my experience in One Direction is the pinnacle. We got played on radio all the time but my last album didn't. Not really. But what I find interesting is that I'm lucky enough to have the ability to tour globally, but I might not get the support I need on radio. That feels like a slight contradiction to me."

All Hail the bully : "Radio Disney won’t play it without nice clean language."

Why he is known as a racist, bully and a homophobe in the industry? : Ash London, Naughty Boy, saying the n slur, refusing to even touch a pride flag....

It is NEVER because let's say.... his music is bad? he is a bad person? an unlikable person with chav like personality? he can't sing? or write his own songs? cause his own fans are bullies taking after himself and following his path and actions? It is always someone else's fault, but never his!

Very true! I wonder who he'll blame for the half empty venues he's going to be playing all year.

[aion-rsa]

Val Kilmer Documentary Punctures the Actor’s Bad Boy Myth

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Leo Scott and Ting Poo’s new documentary feature, Val, is not a mortality play. It is a rehearsal for an upcoming act. During a tour of his one-man stage show, Citizen Twain, Val Kilmer was diagnosed with throat cancer. The actor underwent two tracheostomies, and now can only speak while covering a tube. The narration of the new film is thus done by his son Jack Kilmer, allowing the pair to share a non-verbal connection throughout the journey, and through time and expression itself. While there are flourishes of humor, the documentary is a serious study of an artist who has always struggled to be understood, told through the selective memory of Kilmer’s POV.

“I’ve wanted to tell a story about acting for a very long time,” Kilmer says toward the beginning of the documentary. “And now that it’s difficult to speak, I want to tell my story more than ever.” Kilmer is an artist, one who takes his vocation very seriously and introspectively. An actor’s voice is more than a tool, it is their primary source of communication. Non-verbal exchanges are important, but dialogue is the primary idea delivery system in staged and filmed works. Surgical procedures have split his throat, shredding the scope of his instrument. In the film, Kilmer is forced to project his story on the empty space between the notes.

Among Kilmer’s many defining roles, the one which appears to ring truest is his encapsulation of Jim Morrison, the poet and lead vocalist of the Doors in Oliver Stone’s 1991 biopic, The Doors. The young Kilmer is shown onstage in a small club, lost in the music, awaiting his cue to become one with the mic. Moments in Kilmer’s personal history, like how the actor was tagged with a “difficult” label, are consigned to rests. The most overt reference to Kilmer’s “bad boy” reputation comes from Robert Downey Jr., who smashes the notoriety to bits in a moment of impromptu dismissal.

There is no gossip here. There is no discussion of A-list-bad behavior. Kilmer sees it all as artistic license.  He was searching for honesty, he remembers. Choices like lying on top of a mattress filled with ice in order to feel a real pain during his last scene with Kurt Russell in Tombstone come across as perfectly valid. Kilmer is still bitter over spending four months learning to play guitar for Top Secret!, and his first note informs him the director thinks he looks funnier faking it. There is little evidence of unprofessionalism, only growing pains.

The bulk of Val comes from clips of 8mm home video footage Kilmer has been shooting most of his life. “I’ve kept everything, and it’s been sitting in boxes for years,” Kilmer informs us. The archive was intended to tell a story about “where you end and the acting begins.” We are gifted with moon shots of both Kevin Bacon and Sean Penn, which have nothing to do with the films Apollo 13 or The First.

Early self-directed screen tests provoke a series of what-ifs. A tortuous encapsulation of a Juilliard acting class is a lesson in what-nots. Val’s hand-held approach to The Island of Dr. Moreau is a highlight. The actor respectfully rocks his co-star and idol, Marlon Brando, on a hammock they both wish was strung to John Frankenheimer. Please turn off the camera, the film’s replacement director demands. But Kilmer only hits pause when it’s time to rehearse.

The behind-the-scenes camcorder footage from sets of Top Gun, Tombstone, and The Doors are treasure troves in themselves, and possibly underused. Most of the audience will be very interested in the candid youth and truth recorded over his career. Val uses the archival clips and unearthed b-roll to establish a chronology.

Many videos were made at home in Los Angeles with Kilmer’s younger brother Wesley, who had an epileptic seizure and drowned at age 15. His death casts a mournful pall following the news that Val was the youngest applicant ever accepted as a drama student at Juilliard. Kilmer calls his brother “an artistic genius,” and one of the most revealing things to come out of the documentary is how often Kilmer used this brother’s art to augment the backgrounds of the sets he is living through on film.

Seeing how Stone speaks about Kilmer now makes me wonder if Val would have been able to put in the same performances in his movies if he knew it at the time. In his audition tapes for Full Metal Jacket and Goodfellas, we see an actor who needs to be taken seriously. He flies 6,000 miles to hand deliver his tape to Stanley Kubrick in London.

While he makes no comment, footage reveals Kilmer’s favorite Batman was played by Adam West. “Every boy wants to be Batman,” we hear, and see the Caped Crusader in every era of Kilmer’s life. A short, animated film he and his brother made with what looks like crayon is a Batman spoof. He still glories in the moment he got deposited behind the classic TV series’ iconic wheels as a youngster visiting the lot. It appears Kilmer still can’t pass a grocery store Batmobile without feeding it quarters. He wears the classic blue Halloween ensemble expecting tricks and treats as a kid, and as a daddy with his kids.

Don’t expect to see Kilmer wearing his cinematic puffed rubber suit at home, and it’s not because he left it at the dry cleaners. Footage old and new, homemade or professionally recorded, presents the Batsuit as an albatross. Heavy rests the cowl. He has to be lifted from chairs, deposited on marks, and his only identifying feature on the set of Batman Forever is a chin and bottom lip. Anyone could have been behind the mask, and the human superhero envied the subhuman villains. Kilmer comes across as quite happy Jim Carrey and Tommy Lee Jones are able to create fully formed performance art in their portrayals. But he wanted to play with those toys.

“Batman Forever,” Kilmer laments, “whatever boyish excitement I had going in was crushed by the reality of the Batsuit. I realized it was just my job to show up and stand where they told me.” As the captured past footage is juxtaposed with modern sequences, we get an unfiltered glimpse of how little this has changed. The sequence of Kilmer at the Comic-Con autograph booth is wrenching. He initially didn’t want to take the part of Iceman in Top Gun because he felt it glorified the military. So many fans ask him to sign “You can be my wingman” on their souvenirs. It turns his stomach. He throws up in a garbage can and wheeled through hallways with a blanket over his head. Trouper that he is, he returns to the booth to finish out the signatures.

Kilmer blurred himself into the role of Mark Twain. There is a beautiful sequence where the actor walks through town to the beach, in full stage makeup, dressed in the signature white suit and long mustache of his character. It is extremely telling when Kilmer tells the camera it’s hard enough writing a good screenplay, much less a great one, which itself doesn’t even match what he feels he needs to bring to a script of a film version of Citizen Twain. Kilmer sold his ranch in New Mexico to finance the project. The documentary only captures some of the frustrations.

Most of the anecdotes are guarded, and all the admissions are part of a subjective narrative. Kilmer’s arc has rough edges, these tales are too smooth, and leave little room for impressionistic interpretation. Kilmer met his former wife, Joanne Whalley, when she was starring in a West End play directed by Danny Boyle, but he didn’t approach her.

“She was brilliant, and I was in town making fluff,” Kilmer concedes. It’s all about the art, even appearances. The documentary hints that Kilmer’s dedication to character did the most damage to their relationship. Wearing the same pair of leather pants for nine months could almost be on the books as probable cause for divorce in Hollywood.

Similarly, Kilmer’s Christian Science upbringing is brought up, and dropped. There is a loving but ambiguous undertone to Kilmer’s relationship with his once-rich-and-powerful father, who put his son in debt after trying to become a southern California land tycoon. But a sequence on his Swedish mother which juxtaposes a car ride he took with her when he was a child with one of being driven to her funeral speaks volumes without words.

Val is about the next step. “What’s past is prologue” William Shakespeare wrote in The Tempest. Kilmer pondered the “too, too solid flesh” while rehearsing Hamlet, and the documentary opens after the actor faced his own mortality. Kilmer swears he feels better than he sounds and, while he finds little to regret in his memories, he expects less in the ones he has yet to create.

Val can be seen on Amazon Prime Video.

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The post Val Kilmer Documentary Punctures the Actor’s Bad Boy Myth appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2VvZ2lA

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[mystic-messenger-writing]

Maybe where RFA + V find out that MC is a youtuber and they end up filming a video together that becomes very popular on MC's youtube channel.

Heyo anonnie! This was a really fun request to write although I don’t watch that much youtube lol. I hope everyone is staying safe and staying strong! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ Thank you for the request and I hope that you enjoy! ^^

Commission info can be found HERE

Yoosung

He’s so excited!

Yoosung always enjoys watching YouTube videos when he has free time and he’s just so excited to learn that you’re a YouTube

He’s actually the one to suggest doing a video together

And he requests making a video where the two of you bake together

You love the idea and begin filming it with him

The two of you end up making a cute, albeit a bit sloppy, cake as you explain the steps to make it

With a title like “Making the Cutest Cake with the Cutest Boyfriend” instantly makes your video go viral

Yoosung’s so excited, he’s basically a youtube star himself now!

The two of you go on to making a separate channel dedicated to baking and explaining step by step how to make the goodie while the two of you have playful banter

It’s such a wholesome channel and Yoosung is more than happy to make fun videos with his perfect partner

Zen

Zen knew that he had seen you before you joined the RFA and it all clicked when you told him you were a YouTuber

But he gets so excited since the channel Seven made for him a while ago is also popular

He’s so down with filming videos with you

Zen suggests the two of you make a video with him of the two of you singing

Of course you’re a little self conscious singing along side Zen, who has a heavenly voice

But he encourages you and the two of you end up making a silly yet sweet video of you both singing a duet

And it goes viral instantly thanks to the two of you being popular online

You and Zen end up making more videos of you both singing and while they are a little embarrassing and cringy, it becomes something that you two thoroughly enjoy

Zen’s popularity as a singer soars and your own channel gains plenty more subscribers

It becomes something that you and Zen enjoy dearly, and Zen is beyond happy to keep making any and all kinds of videos with you

Jaehee

She’s honestly a little taken aback

Jaehee isn’t super into YouTube to begin with and when you explain to her that you’re a youtuber, she’s surprised

But after watching some of your videos, she understands why you’re so popular and even suggests that the two of you make a video

You’re beyond excited and prepare a challenge for her, to which Jaehee becomes anxious

That is, until you tell her it’s a coffee tasting challenge which gets her on board

You have to contain yourself from squealing with delight everytime Jaehee tastes the coffee and smiles, gushing at how good it is

It becomes a surprise to Jaehee that the video gets viral, she doesn’t understand how her tasting coffee could be so entertaining

But you explain to her that she just looked so cute doing it, which makes her blush shyly

Although it does make her happy and excited, asking to do more videos with you, as long as the challenges don’t involve anything weird

You happily agree and with Jaehee, the two of you continue to make videos and grow in popularity much to Jaehee’s surprise but also secretly delight

Jumin

Jumin’s like ??? “What is a youtube?”

It takes you a while to explain to him what being a youtuber means

But he finally starts to get it and finds every single video you made adorable because he just loves watching you

So you suggest making a video together to which he agrees

And although he wants to make a video discussing the finances of the business world, you have another idea

You two end up making a video dedicated to Elizabeth the III, from Jumin showing off how elegantly she poses to you grooming her silky fur

And it becomes an instant hit and Jumin’s like “obviously because Elizabeth the III is a star who wouldn’t want to watch her?”

It ends up becoming something you both enjoy doing, Jumin gets to spend time with his most favorite person and most favorite cat so he loves it

And while Jumin thinks the videos are silly, you always catch him smiling happily as he watches the videos

Making videos together brings you and Jumin closer and while he still doesn’t fully grasp it, Jumin loves every second of making videos with you

Seven

Seven is so hyped to find out you’re a youtuber!

He’s always enjoyed watching random videos when he’s stressed but he’s so excited that you make videos yourself

You suggest making a video together and he’s so down

The two of you end up doing the “boyfriend does my makeup challenge” at Seven’s request

And it’s a big, fun mess

Seven is awful at doing your makeup, he’s the type of guy who has no idea what anything makeup related is

And the final result of Seven’s skills is you having a face full of colorful, misplaced makeup

But between the hilarious result and yours and Seven’s banter, your video ends up going viral

You have a sneaking suspicion that Seven hacked into it and made it grow in popularity, but he denies it

Either way, you both genuinely had a fun time making the video and you and Seven end up making many more goofy but fun videos together

V

V, like his best friend, is a little confused when you tel him you’re a youtuber

While he is a photographer, he doesn’t know much about video uploading until you introduce him to it

He loves watching your videos and eagerly asks to make one together with you

After some thought, the two of you decided to make a video simply showcasing V’s cactus garden and doing a house tour mainly to focusing on V’s studio

It’s a basic video that V doesn’t even think you should upload but you know his wholesomeness will attract viewers

And that it does

He’s shocked when you tell him that the video goes viral, he thinks of himself as uninteresting and doesn’t see how anyone would want to watch it

Until V realizes you were in it which would make anyone watch anything because you’re so cute on camera

You and V end up making more videos together, most of them fairly simple and laid back but it’s something that the two of you love doing and make a fun hobby of being a youtube couple

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger Yoosung #mystic messenger Zen #mystic messenger Jaehee #mystic messenger Jumin #mystic messenger Seven #mystic messenger V

[jovialyouthmusic]

Past Times

The Dalgleish family continue their tour around John Lykel’s estate, and Elizabeth has to make a big decision.

Word Count 3233

A/N Although this is a spin off of a spin off of a fanfic, it has become it’s own story. I’m pleased to see it has prompted some interest. This is fluffy and gentle and there is longing and romance, but definitely no smut - at least not yet.  

8 Will you be Mistress?

The family spent a pleasant afternoon touring the formal gardens before being admitted to the walled garden where the head gardener grew produce for the manor. Fruit trees soaked up the summer sun on the south facing walls which also sported a large glasshouse.  Exotic plants were carefully tended in there, and they were told that such fruits as pineapple and peaches would be served at the grand dinner to be held when all the guests had arrived. John’s friend Tom and his wife were due to arrive the next day and would be staying for two weeks, and other guests would be coming from nearby estates. There would be a grand dinner and a Ball in a week’s time and most of the guests would return home at the end of the day, but there were rooms still available for a few who had further to travel.

The estate was set on the banks of a river and the fishing was good. Copses and woods provided game to hunt, and cattle and sheep grazed the meadows. There was a farmhouse with a barn and dairy and other outbuildings and a number of cottages housing estate workers, and John also employed a gamekeeper. Servants who worked in the house either slept in the top story of the manor or in one of a few cottages that stood close by. Naturally there were also stables housing a fine stallion and a sweet docile mare for riding and for breeding, and two lesser steeds which could be hitched up to draw an assortment of gigs and carricles. The farmhouse had its own stable with plough horses, and beehives provided honey. Chickens ran about the farmyard, there were ducks on the pond near the farmhouse and the pig sties were well stocked.

All in all, the estate was not only self sufficient, but a surplus of meat and other produce was sold to traders in Edinburgh. John took rent from the farmer and other smallholders and a percentage of anything made from trading. Having visitors stay at the manor and holding an elaborate dinner and ball for nearby gentry would hardly make a dent in the estate’s finances. What was draining to John’s resources was the rent and upkeep of the townhouse in the city, but Elizabeth’s dowry would help to cover those costs. She would receive an annual income from the money her father left her, plus rent from the farmhouse on his estate – or rather, John would, as the practice at the time was that any property or income a woman had passed to her husband when she married. In Scotland however, women had far more of a say in marital finances and sometimes ran the whole estate if they were able.

Elizabeth was a little overcome at the size and scope of Laxton Estate. She and John walked together, her parents admiring the exotic fruits and flowers in the glasshouse and Amelia trailing behind them. John had promised her that later they would visit the stables to see the horses and a litter of kittens that one of the farm cats had just given birth to.

‘How have you not been snapped up by a finer lady than I, John Lykel?’ she asked him as Morag admired the vegetable beds outside the glasshouse.

‘None attracted my attention like you, my dear Lizzy’ he assured her ‘Money and title are superficial and I did not expect to be managing the estate for some time to come. It is your spirit and your intellect that snared me – do you not remember our first meeting in the library?’ Elizabeth looked a little embarrassed.

‘If I had not tried to surprise Duncan, I might never have caught your attention, or you mine’ she said, and he smiled in agreement. He looked toward their chaperone and steered her a little further out of earshot.

‘Tell me my dear, what do you think of your room?’ he asked quietly.

‘It is very fine’ she replied ‘Is there anything significant about it?’

‘I wondered if your parents would be concerned that I had given you a larger bed’ he murmured ‘The truth is that it was challenging to allocate rooms and beds to accommodate both your family and other guests. I assure you there is nothing improper intended in giving you a bed that would accommodate more than one person. When we are married you may of course choose any room you wish as ours’ Again she blushed at the thought of what might occur when they were finally promised to each other and recognised by the Church.

‘John’ she said, squeezing his arm ‘We shall be wed soon, surely nothing can be improper, short of being more intimate with each other’ He smiled at her boldness

‘We have not set a date yet’ he replied ‘I wanted you to see the entirety of my estate before you accepted my proposal for certain. Some might find the prospect of being Mistress of Laxton rather challenging’

‘Mama and Papa have made sure I have been educated sufficiently for such a prospect’ Elizabeth assured him ‘Some of my friends have only been schooled in genteel arts such as dancing, singing and sewing, but as Father lacked a male heir he made sure to instruct both Amelia and I in the matter of estate as well as house management. It may come to pass that one of us might have to look after the family estate whether we are wed or not’ John raised his eyebrows in surprise.

‘Indeed, I was not aware of that’ he replied ‘You are truly a very suitable young woman, and I am very fortunate to have attracted your attention.’ He grinned ‘How have you not been snapped up by a finer gentleman than I?’ he said, echoing her words. She laughed and drew him closer, making as if to press her nose to his, but behind them, Morag cleared her throat.

‘When we have set a date, perhaps we will have a little freedom’ Lizzy sighed in exasperation ‘It is so tiresome having Morag trail us, and I am sure she wearies of it too’ she murmured, and he made a wry face in answer.

‘The next thing to do before you make a proper decision about our betrothal is to see the rest of the estate, and you will observe what your responsibilities might be beyond running the house’ he explained ‘You and I and Morag will take a gig and drive out. If your parents and Amelia wish to do the same, they may take another, for I have nothing that will seat more than three persons. I presume your father can handle a gig’  

‘Oh yes, he is very fond of driving Mama around our estate.’ She replied ‘And I am determined to be by your side for as long as fortune allows’

‘Perhaps I should reveal some of my lesser habits in case you find them repugnant’ he mused ‘Maybe I should pick my teeth or belch after dinner’ Elizabeth laughed

‘Nothing will deter me. I have read that in some countries it is impolite not to belch after eating at a host’s table’

‘I too have heard that. Perhaps we shall visit such a place together’ Her eyes lit up, but they were interrupted by Amelia sidling up to them.

‘Lizzy, if I see one more peach or rose I shall scream’ she said quietly, and turned to John beseechingly ‘They are beautiful, but you promised to show me the kittens at the stable’ John smiled

‘Very well, we shall go there next’ he said gently, and made his way over to the girls’ parents. However, they chose to remain in the walled garden a little longer, and gave Amelia leave to accompany John, Elizabeth and Morag to the stables. They spent some time admiring the horses, and Amelia played delightedly with the kittens.

‘Do you think Mama would let me take one home?’ she asked hopefully ‘It would keep me company when you – when you leave, Lizzy’ She looked so morose that her sister put a hand on her shoulder to soothe her.

‘I can’t say for sure, but you should realise that a pet is a big responsibility, Melly’ she said gently.

‘Maybe I can bring one into the house here’ she said brightly, her eyes shining as she looked up at John ‘I could keep it in my room, and when Mama sees how well I care for it…’

‘You shall do no such thing, Miss Amelia’ scolded Morag ‘The kittens are far too young to leave their mother, and are half wild. They are farm cats, and will catch mice and rats, not look pretty for spoiled young ladies’ Amelia pouted a little.

‘When we all get back to Edinburgh perhaps we will talk with Mama about you having a pet’ Elizabeth said. ‘Perhaps a little dog, or a parrot’

‘Oh not a parrot, Lizzy’ Amelia protested. ‘Eleanor’s father has one that belonged to his kitchen maid’s brother, and it says some extremely rude things, he dare not have it out for visitors. Also it makes a mess with its droppings’ John laughed at her tale, and Elizabeth looked up as her parents made their appearance. Amelia made as if to open her mouth and plead to have a kitten, but her sister frowned at her and she remained quiet. Already the stable hands were harnessing two gigs – small open carriages set up to take two  or three passengers, one of them driving the horses. John’s two gigs could each be drawn by a single horse, and he planned to drive himself with Elizabeth and Morag while Sir James drove his wife and younger daughter on a trip around the rest of the estate.

The rest of the afternoon was spent touring the orchards and farmland, the farm and the cottages. Elizabeth could not think of a single thing the estate did not have, save for a folly or some ornamental building or summer house. All was practical and business like, in contrast to her father’s estate which was largely for show, with long avenues of beech trees, an ornamental lake and a tower on a hill overlooking the house. The farmland was quite separate from the Manor, whereas at Laxton all was integrated and appeared to work well. Oddly though, Laxton Manor was, as she had already observed, a finer example with more elaborate décor and fine furnishings.

After their tour they returned to the house to rest and prepare for dinner, hoping that Lady Margaret would feel well enough to attend her visitors. The two girls endured their mother’s attentions as to what they should wear. She summoned a maid to Lizzie’s room to try out dresses and accessories for them. It was not a formal occasion, but if John’s mother was to be there, they must appear suitably dressed. It was decided that their best most fashionable gowns were to be saved for the ball and perhaps one or two other occasions, so their second best could be worn to dinner that night. They could then be put away for when the other guests were present, and they could wear less formal attire from day to day. The girls had two or three other dresses that would do for the latter, and various scarves, hats, bonnets and other hair decorations and hairstyles would transform those plain garments. Jewellery would be reserved for the very best occasions.

At last they descended to dinner. Lizzie’s father was already in the drawing room with John enjoying a cigar, on which his wife frowned, not liking the smell that lingered about him after he smoked. The Captain came forward to welcome Lizzie, taking her hands and placing a kiss on her cheek that burned her skin and made her stomach do somersaults.

‘Mother will be down shortly’ he smiled ‘She asks that we wait, and she will attend us. Would you all care for a cordial in the meantime?’ Amelia’s face lit up, as she loved sugary drinks, which her mother rarely allowed due to the effect on the young woman. She tended to become more animated and subject to flights of fancy, but at a pleading look, her mother accepted for all three of them. Sir James was already enjoying a pre dinner glass of brandy in a fine balloon glass.

‘Oh, is this raspberry?’ Elizabeth asked as a servant brought round a tray of glasses of clear red liquid.

‘Indeed it is’ John replied ‘You will have seen the fruit bushes in the gardens – we had an excellent crop last year. Perhaps you might like to try our raspberry brandy later’

‘Perhaps we might’ their mother replied politely. It was but a short time before a servant came to open the door for Lady Margaret to enter the room. The girls curtseyed and Sir James gave a little bow.

‘Please, if we are to be family we should dispense with such formalities’ the Duchess said generously ‘Sir James, your daughters are have very particular manners; they are a credit to you. I know not what it is like to bring young girls up to fit into polite society.’ She inclined her head to John ‘My dear son is not the only child I have borne, but he is the only one to survive past his infancy’

‘Oh, my dear Lady Margaret’ Elizabeth’s mother said sorrowfully ‘I am so sorry to hear it. I was fortunate to have my girls, and never a lost child to our marriage.’ At this moment John’s manservant came to announce that dinner was ready to be served, and they all moved to the dining room to seat themselves as before at the long table. It was set more formally with silverware and lit by chandelier and candelabra, the soft light setting off rainbow glints on the silver and crystal on the table.

The first course was swiftly served – lobster bisque, which John assured all was made fresh from creatures bought this morning from the nearest fishing village, some hour or so’s cart journey away. Elizabeth was fond of shellfish and declared it was the best she had tasted in a while. The family had stayed with a distant cousin in North Berwick on the coast east of Edinburgh the previous year, and had enjoyed much fresh seafood then, even though it was readily available at home due to the city’s proximity to the port of Leith. Food was more expensive in the capital due to the cost of transporting it in the quantities needed by the number of people that called it home, and many merchants charged the upper classes more, knowing they could afford it.

For the second course, some few dishes of meat and fish were set out on the table along with vegetables and sauces, all made from produce from the estate. There was salmon from the river and pork from the farm, and pickled cucumber from the hothouse, as well as delcate onion and mushroom sauce and egg balls made from egg yolks. Wine was served from the cellar, and altogether it was a fine and delicate repast that Elizabeth made sure to savour and compliment. She cast her eye over her youngest sister to ensure that she wasn’t eating too fast, but she saw that the flavours and textures of the dishes had not gone unnoticed, and she was savouring her food delicately.

She sampled a little of every dish, and the pace of the meal and the conversation was such that when dessert was served, she found that her stomach had space to take some. Sweet cakes and fruit were set out, but the highlight of the meal was the presentation of a dish of lemon sorbet, brought in with a flourish by John’s manservant. Amelia’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the dessert.

‘Oh my goodness’ she breathed ‘I can only remember having anything this fine but once before, at the Beaumont’s Easter dinner party’ John smiled at her wide eyed expression. Elizabeth thought privately that it was as well to produce such a grand dish now, so that Amelia wouldn’t be so overwhelmed at the grand dinner to come, when others would be present.

‘You saw the ice house on the tour, Miss Amelia’ he said ‘We fill it with ice every winter, and it is well insulated enough for it to still have some left when the snows return the next season. As you may have seen, we grow lemons in the hothouse also’  

‘It is extremely generous of you to serve it outside a formal dinner’ Lady Charlotte declared ‘We are, after all, almost ‘en famille’ rather than with other guests’ John inclined his head as the servants presented each of them with a glass bowl with a spoonful of the sorbet, equally distributed so the serving dish was empty. It was enjoyed not in silence, but with sounds of delight and appreciation. With a sigh, Amelia pushed her empty bowl aside and looked longingly at the little cakes close to her.

‘Please, help yourselves to more, should you wish it’ John said kindly, and timidly she took one to nibble, as the others also chose small morsels to finish their meal. John sat back in his seat, and addressed Elizabeth’s parents.

‘So, I wanted Liz – Miss Elizabeth – to see the best we have before she properly accepts my proposal of marriage’ he announced. ‘Though I must confess we have not had occasion to serve such a fine dinner since I have returned from sea.’

‘You must have many a fine dinner in the officer’s mess, Sirrah’ Lord James interjected. ‘I have been told that only the common sailors eat bully beef and hard tack’

‘Of course’ John replied ‘But I find it does well to eat with the men sometimes to remind oneself of the conditions under which they work. There is a balance to be had between maintaining order and making a bond of brothership with the lower ranks’ Sir James nodded sagely, then turned to his elder daughter.

‘Well Lizzie’ her father prompted ‘Has all this finery turned your head? Do you think you would like to be mistress of such a fine estate?’

‘I would be content with a cottage in the country, should I have the company of my John’ she replied ‘I hope Lady Margaret will be able to advise me on the management of this establishment, for I am sure I will find it a challenge’ Lady Margaret nodded her assent.

‘I am sure you will learn swiftly, and add your own flair to what will be your home should you accept John’s proposal, my dear’ she replied.

‘I would not think to have your answer with all watching, my dear Lizzie’ John replied ‘You have but to tell me in private’ She gazed into his eyes, and much as she wanted to declare her devotion then and there, she thought it best to honour his wishes. She hoped that once they were properly engaged, Morag might let them off the leash a little and they could have some time alone. She wished with all her heart that their engagement would not be a long one, and that they would soon be married.

@sirbeepsalot​ @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria​ @dcbbw​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @katedrakeohd​ @trappedinfandoms​ @kingliam2019​ @nomadics-stuff​ @texaskitten30​ @princess-geek​ @texaskitten30​

#period drama #Past times #Elizabeth and John #Elizabeth Dalgeish #Captain John Lykel #regency Scotalnd

[jadelotusflower]

November Roundup

Some writing success this month - I finished and posted a new chapter for Against the Dying of the Light, and made progress on The Lady of the Lake and Turn Your Face to the Sun. I didn’t work much on my novel, but I did do some editing on the first third so that’s progress.

Words written this month: 6647

Total this year: 67,514

November books

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo - joint winner of the 2019 Booker Prize (with The Testaments by Margaret Atwood) this was an engrossing and interesting read. Stylistically unusual formatting and scant use of punctuation that is a bit jarring at first, but you quickly adapt as you read. There’s no plot as such - instead the story is formed by vignettes of twelve black women and their disparate yet interconnected lives. We have mothers and daughters, close friends, teachers and students, although the connections aren’t always obvious at first - we can be exposed to a character briefly in the story of another with no idea that she will be a focus later on. It’s very skillfully done, to the point whereupon finishing I wanted immediately to re-read (but alas, it was already overdue back to the library). There is so much ground covered that we are really only given a glimpse into the characters lives, but there is a diversity of intergenerational perspectives of the African diaspora in the UK, and I highly recommend.

The Evening and the Morning by Ken Follett - after finishing The Pillars of the Earth I had intended to read the sequel, but this was available on the library shelf and I had to place a hold on World Without End, so the prequel came first. Set sixty years before the Conquest (150 before Pillars) it primarily addresses the growth of the hamlet of Dreng’s Ferry into the town of Kingsbridge, through the lives of a monk with a strong moral code, a clever and beautiful noblewoman, and a skilled builder, working against the machinations of an evil bishop. Sound familiar? This is Follet’s most recent work, and I do wonder if he’s running out of ideas as this covers very similar thematic ground.

Ragna is a compelling female character, but once again the romance-that-cannot-be with Edgar is tepid, Aldred is a very watered down version of Prior Philip, and there’s no grand framing device such as building the cathedral to really tie to all together (although things do Get Built, and it’s interesting but not on the level of Pillars). This is the tail end of the Dark Ages and it shows - Viking raids, slavery, infanticide - and while it seems Follett’s style is to put his characters through much tragedy and tribulation before their happy ending, I wish writers would stop going to the rape well so readily. But at least the sexual violence isn’t as...lasciviously written as in Pillars? Scant praise, I know. But Follett’s strength in drawing the reader into the world and time period is on display, made even more interesting in this era about which we know very little.

Women and Leadership by Julia Gillard and Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala - I have a great deal of respect for Julia Gillard, Australia’s first female Prime Minister who was treated utterly shamefully during her tenure and never got the credit she deserved, perhaps excepting the reaction to her iconic “misogny speech” whichyou can enjoy in full here:

Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala was the first woman to be Minister of Finance and Foreign Affairs in Nigeria, was also the former Managing Director of the World Bank, and currently a candidate for Director-General of the WTO.

This is an interesting examination of women in leadership roles, comparing and contrasting the lives and experiences of a select few including (those I found the most interesting) Ellen Sirleaf, the first female President of Liberia, Joyce Banda, the first female President of Malawi, New Zealand’s current Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern, and of course, Gillard and Okonjo-Iweala themselves.

November shows/movies

The Vow and Seduced: Inside the NXIVM Cult - I’ve been following the NXIVM case for a while now, when the news broke in 2017 I was surprised and intrigued that it involved actresses from some of my fandom interests - Alison Mack (Smallville), Grace Park and Nikki Clyne (Battlestar Galactica), and Bonnie Piasse (Star Wars). Uncovered: Escaping NXIVM is an excellent podcast from that point in time that’s well worth a listen. There’s been a lot of discussion comparing these two documentaries and which one is better, but I feel they’re both worthwhile.

The Vow gives a primer of NXIVM as a predatory “self improvement” pyramid scheme/cult run by human garbage Keith Reniere, from the perspective of former members turned whistleblowers Bonnie Piasse, who first suspected things were wrong, her husband Mark Vicente who was high up in the organisation, and Sarah Edmondson who was a member of DOS, the secret group within NXIVM that involved branding and sex trafficking. Seduced gives more insight into the depravity and criminality of DOS from the pov of India Oxenburg, just 19 when she joined the group and who became Alison Mack’s “slave” in DOS - she was required to give monthly “collateral” in the form of explicit photographs or incriminating information about herself or her family, had to ask Mack’s permission before eating anything (only 500 calories allowed per day), was ordered to have sex with Reniere, and other horrific treatment - Mack herself was slave to Reniere (as was Nikki Clyne) and there were even more horrific crimes including rape and imprisonments of underage girls.

Of course each show has an interest in portraying its subjects as less culpable than perhaps they were (there were people above and below them all in the pyramid after all) - Vicente and Edmondson in The Vow and Oxenburg in Seduced, but what I did appreciate about Seduced was the multiple experts to explain how and why people were indoctrinated into this cult, and why it was so difficult to break free from it. This is a story of victims who were also victimisers and all the complications that come along with that, although I’m not sure any of these people are in the place yet to really reckon with what happened and all need a lot of therapy.

Focusing on individual journeys also narrows the scope - there are other NXIVM members interviewed I would have liked to have heard a lot more from. There is also a lot of jumping back and forth in time in both docos so the timeline is never quite clear unless you do further research. I would actually like to see another documentary one day a bit further removed from events dealing with the whole thing from start to finish from a neutral perspective. The good news is that Reniere was recently sentenced to 120 years in prison so he can rot.

I saw value in both, but you’re only going to watch one of these, I would say go for Seduced - if you’re interested in as much information as possible, watch The Vow first to get a primer on all the main players and then Seduced for the full(er) story.

The Crown (season 4) - While I love absolutely everything Olivia Coleman does, I thought it took a while for her to settle in as the Queen last season and it’s almost sad that she really nailed it this season, just in time for the next cast changeover (but I also love everything Imelda Staunton does so...) This may be an unpopular opinion, but I wasn’t completely sold on Gillian Anderson as Thatcher - yes I know she sounded somewhat Like That, but for me the performance was a little too...affected? (and someone get her a cough drop, please!) 

It is also an almost sympathetic portrayal of Thatcher - even though it does demonstrate her classism and internalised misogyny, it doesn’t really explore the full impact of Thatcherism, why she was such a polarising figure to the extent that some would react like this to her death:

But I suppose it’s called The Crown, not The PM.

Emma Corrin is wonderful as Diana, and boy do they take no prisoners with Charles (or the other male spawn). I was actually surprised at how terrible they made Charles seem rather than both sidesing it as I had expected (but perhaps that’s being saved for season 5). It does hammer home just how young Diana was when they were married (19 to Charles’ 32), how incompatible they were and the toxicity of their marriage (standard disclaimer yes it’s all fictionalised blah blah). The performances are exceptional across the board - Tobias Menzies and Josh O’Conner were also standouts and it’s a shame to see them go.

I was however disappointed to see that the episode covering Charles and Di’s tour of Australia was not only called “Terra Nullius” but the term was used as a very tone deaf metephor that modern Australia was no longer “nobody’s land/country”. For those who aren’t aware, terra nullius was the disgraceful legal justification for British invasion/colonisation of Australia despite the fact that the Indigenous people had inhabited the continent for 50,000 years or more. While the tour was pre-Mabo (the decision that overturned the doctrine of terra nullius and acknowledged native title), there was no need to use this to make the point, especially when there was no mention at all of the true meaning/implication of the term.

The Spanish Princess (season 2, episodes 4-8)- Sigh. I guess I’m more annoyed at the squandered potential of this show, since the purpose ostensibly was to focus on the time before The Great Matter and give Katherine “her due” - and instead they went and made her the most unsympathetic, unlikeable character in the whole damn show. (Spoilers) She literally rips Bessie Blount’s baby from her body and, heedless to a mother’s pleas to hold her child, runs off to Henry so she can present him with “a son”. I mean, what the actual fuck?

I’m not a stickler for historical accuracy so long as it’s accurate to the spirit of history (The Tudors had its flaws, but it threaded this needle most of the time), but this Katherine isn’t even a shadow of her historical figure - she’s not a troubled heroine, she’s cruel and vindictive, Margaret Pole is a sanctimonious prig, and Margaret Tudor does little but sneer and shout - the only one who comes out unscathed is Mary Tudor (the elder), and it’s only because she’s barely in it at all. It’s a shame because I like all of these actresses (especially Georgie Henley and Laura Carmichael) but they are just given dreck to work with.

This is not an issue with flawed characters, it’s the bizarre presentation of these characters that seems to want to be girl power rah rah, and yet at the same time feels utterly misogynistic by pitting the women against each other or making them spiteful, stupid, or crazy for The Drama. I realise this is based on Gregory so par for the course, but it feels particularly egregious here. (Spoilers) At one point Margaret Pole is banished from court by Henry, and because Katherine won’t help her (because she cant!) she decides to spill the beans about Katherine’s non-virginity. Yes, her revenge against the hated Tudors is...to give Henry exactly what he wants? Even though it will result in young Mary, who she loves and cares for, being disinherited? Girlboss!

This season also missed the opportunity to build on its predecessors The White Queen/Princess and show why it was so important to Henry to have a male heir - the Tudor reign wasn’t built on the firmest foundations and so needed uncontested transfer of power, at the time there was historic precedent that passing the throne to a daughter led to Anarchy, and wars of succession were very recent in everyone’s memory. At least no one was bleating about The Curse this time, which is actually kind of surprising, because the point of the stupid curse is the Tudor dynasty drama.

But it’s not all terrible. Lina and Oviedo are the best part of the show, and (spoilers) thankfully make it out alive. Both are a delight to watch and I wish the show had been just about them.

Oh well. One day maybe we’ll get the Katherine of Aragon show we deserve - at least I can say that the costumes were pretty, small consolation though it is.

#november roundup #long post

[captaincvans]

Chapter One: Heart Made of Glass

09/30/19

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader 

Word Count: 1667+

Prompt: 8. “I think we should break up.” 

Warnings: Language! Angry!Chris

Series Masterpost

A/N: This is my entry for @my-emotional-self 5K Writing Challenge! This can be read alone, but it is a part of a mini-series for those who want a continuation! Anyways, on to the fic~ If you want to be tagged, please send me an ASK! 

You weren’t one to complain about your boyfriend’s schedule. You knew as an actor, he was usually really busy filming and when he was at home, he made sure to spend as much time with you. This time however, when he came home after filming his last Avengers movie, he was distant and snappy with you. It started just two weeks before he was set to go home, and you chalked it up to the fact that it was his last movie with the people he’s worked with for the last eight years and he wanted to spend as much time as possible focused on them. Then he came home, and he just wasn’t the same person. He didn’t text you when he had landed. He didn’t greet you when he came home. There was no welcome home kiss- let alone a hug. He barely talked to you for the next few days, and every time you two talked, he was snappy and short.

The fights started happening more frequently, all throughout the winter holidays, the two of you were under a thick blanket of tension. This man could fight about anything and everything. He was stubborn and passionate. Those two traits were something you always admired about him. The way he could fight for what he believed was right, and defend those who didn’t have a voice. However, when those traits were used against you, that was a different story. Tonight was another fight, and you couldn’t for the life of you remember how it even started, but you knew the end of that fight was something you would be reliving for a very long time.

You were spending Christmas with his family, opening gifts with the whole Evans clan. The morning was spent baking cookies for the children, and you woke up early to make sure you baked enough for everyone. Once the whole lot was settled in the living room of Lisa’s house, around the Christmas tree, the children starting opening their gifts first. There were a lot of screaming, and excited laughter which made your heart swell with joy. You had a lot of fun picking out special gifts for each of the children after getting to know them in the last few years, and their joyous reactions was much appreciated. For the adults, you got each of his siblings an embossed bathrobe as a running joke when you had a spa day with them, a slightly drunk Scott proclaiming loudly that he wished he had a bathrobe as soft as the ones they were wearing. For his parents, you got something more practical, they were complaining about how their lawn mower didn’t survive last summer, so you got them another one for Christmas so they didn’t have to worry about it when the weather got warmer.

They each gifted you different things. Chris’ siblings all pitched together to get the two of you tickets to an art and wine tour, and his parents had gotten you a knitted blanket, joking about passing it down to your future kids. When you turned to Chris, his shoulders squared and his eyes were hard, glaring at you. You could tell it was making the rest of his family uncomfortable how cold he had been with you. They were used to his clingy ways, always having an arm around you and would never go pass two hours without kissing you at least once. They could feel the tension immediately when the two of you stepped in the house: the forced, awkward smile making it difficult to hide their rocky relationship. 

“I didn’t get anything for you,” Chris said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

Your shock was mirrored with by his family members, who knew Chris to be pretty extravagant with his gifts despite your constant insistence that you did not requiring anything to be that super fancy. “Okay, that’s not a problem! I still got you something.” You pulled out a small box, and handed it to him.

He tore the wrapping paper, not very gently, and opened the box to find two summer passes to Disneyland Park in California. When you found out that his last month of filming for his newest movie was in Anaheim, you jumped at the opportunity to have his stay extended to spend the whole summer in the sun and in the happiest place in the world.

“Oh, cool,” he said, closing the box, and moving on to the next gift.

You deflated slightly at his reaction, hoping for some more excitement. You could feel Lisa’s gaze on you, but chose to ignore it, chalking his reaction to the anxiety he always felt around the holidays. There were a lot of pressure around this time to be happy, and you knew that wasn’t always the case with the two of you.

You had one final dinner with the family before heading home. The original plan was to visit your family for a few days, but those plans fell through when your parents’ flight from Cuba was delayed and your siblings wanted to wait until they arrived home to have the get-together. Both of you entered the house silently, Dodger still with the petsitter until we could pick him up.

“Chris, can we talk?” You started, cautiously approaching him as you knew he was already in a bad mood.

“About what?” He responded with snark lacing his voice, He ran his hand through his hair as he dropped his bag near the entrance of the door.

“It was just really awkward today…”

He rolled his eyes. “Just because I didn’t get you a gift one time?!”

“No, no! It’s not like that- I don’t care that you didn’t get me anything. It’s just… I bought those Disney World passes for us… Daniel said you would be doing the last month of your filming in California so I figured I could take some time off and we can go together after you’re done.”

“So you’re upset that I wasn’t more excited for it? Jesus, you know I hate it when you make plans without considering my plans. What if I don’t want to stay in California after filming? You know I only leave Boston when I have to.”

“I know, but I thought it would be easier for you to stay in California for an extra month, instead of coming back here and having to spend money on another flight there.”

Chris scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s always about money with you, isn’t it?”

“What?! What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and crossed your arms in growing anger. 

“You’re always talking about money- telling me that I should save here and save there when I want something, but when you want something you don’t care about my savings anymore.”

“Chris, I never asked you to-“

“We both know you’re only with me for my money anyways,” Chris spat.

That argument made you stop in your tracks. Never in the two years that you dated the actor had he mentioned that he was uncomfortable with the silent arrangement with your finances. You had paid for flight tickets to visit him whenever you could, but there were a few times when he had surprised you with them as well. Everything in between was just whoever had their wallet out first. There were a few times that Chris had left his wallet behind or you had wanted to treat him, and you paid with no problem. Other times, he paid for your outings. You weren’t an actress by any means, and did not have that kind of money, but you weren’t living off his paycheque either.

“Chris, what the fuck?! You know that’s not true-” you started, but he scoffed. “Chris, I love you for you- I don’t-”

“You love my money. You love being spoiled. Honestly, don’t know why I bothered with you- I basically was just paying you to hang out and have sex with me.”

You gasped, never hearing such hurtful things from Chris, even at his angriest moments.

“I should’ve just gone with a prostitute- they’re probably cheaper and at least they keep themselves in shape. You just look like you’ve really let yourself go- honestly, how much weight did you gain while you were fattening yourself up with my money?”

That broke you. Everything else he had said before that moment, you would be willing to fix and forgive him for, but that statement was the last straw. He knew how insecure you were with your figure, especially for someone who was not an actress or model, dating one, he knew that you always felt not good enough. Compared to the beautiful women in his life that he’s dated, you felt like you were on a whole different world. You had told him of your insecurities during a really vulnerable point in your life, letting him in on years of self-hate and doubt that he had helped you with. Instead, now he was using it against you. All the small, petty fights from the previous month finally tired you out. All the fight you had melted away as your heart ached at his insult. 

“I think we should break up,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. After packing up most of everything, you turned back to your boyfriend, realizing that there was one more thing you wanted to tell him. “Um- I’m not sure how you want to go about this, but I think you should know anyways, and if you want to call me after you’ve calmed down a bit so we can discuss this-”

“Discuss what?”

“I’m pregnant, Chris.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Really? You’re gonna pull that one on me? I’ve had my share of sluts pretending to be pregnant with my baby. Stop lying to try to tie me down to you. It ain’t gonna work. You’re not getting any more money from me.”

“I’m serious, Chris. I could show-”

“Well, I don’t believe you. You probably got knocked up by someone else.”

“I never-”

“Just get out. I’ll leave your stuff with the concierge downstairs.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to listen to anymore, you nodded and left the apartment you spent the fast few years. It was only in the empty hallways of his apartment that you allowed yourself to crumble down. You don’t know how long you spent in hallways, just crying your hearts out at the loss of your relationship. You felt cold and empty, even moreso in the coldness of the winter season.

(Chapter 2) –>

#emily’s5kwritingchallenge #chris evans x reader #chris x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans oneshot #marvel #marvel fics #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader #josephine writes

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 14 of 29)

 Paul was still trying to remember the times he’d slept with her even as he looked her over. Brownish hair in a grown-out shag, that sort of dirty light brown color that made it obvious she’d probably been towheaded as a kid, blue eyes, freckles in heaps across her nose and cheekbones. Icepick scars ran down one cheek on close inspection, reminiscent of Ace’s, pitting up her complexion. The remnants of measles or acne. She was very small, easily at least a head shorter than him, even now. Skinny figure, accentuated in a pair of jeans and a halter top. So much for the dress code he’d rambled about that morning. Younger than him, if he were going to take a guess. Not—not substantially so, maybe three or four years. She wasn’t beautiful at all, but she had that blandly cute girl-next-door look about her that sometimes was its own ticket of admission.

He’d been working towards this for days, and he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to approach her. The doorman had already backed away, disappearing as soon as he’d realized Gene saw the girl. Paul’s palms were sweating worse now than during the dance; he felt like he was about to sing at Shea Stadium. He felt Gene’s hand on his back, urging him, and finally he stepped forward and spoke.

"Hi, Carol."

She didn’t recognize him. He could tell by the way her eyes flickered from him to Gene, measuring him up. She was probably thinking that Gene was adding up girls for a threesome. She smiled in a distant, vague way, holding her hand up in a wave.

“Hi.”

“We need to talk,” Paul said, but she shook her head and turned to Gene.

“The guy at the door said Paul Stanley wanted to see me, too.”

“I do.”

“What?”

“I do want to see you.”

She looked at him. Really looked at him, staring him dead in the eye. Her mouth opened. She looked—she almost looked afraid.

“Oh, my God.” A breath. “Paul?”

Paul nodded.

 “It worked? It really—” Carol stopped herself. Her gaze inched down from his face to his chest, Paul’s stomach curdling as her focus moved further down—it had never felt that bad before, being looked at, but being looked at by her felt absolutely awful, like he was a specimen or an experiment. “Did it go all the…”

“Do I look like I’ve got anything else there?”

She actually flinched, shaking her head. He hadn’t expected that. Thought sure she’d be gleeful as soon as she realized who he was.

“We want to talk to you.” Gene, still next to him. Paul glanced at him briefly. The lipstick smeared on his mouth and neck had to make him seem far less threatening, but Carol seemed at least a little cowed anyway. “You know exactly why.”

“I… I don’t want to talk to you. I only want to talk to Paul.”

“That’s too damn bad,” Gene snapped, but Paul raised his hand.

“No. That’s fine. We’ll talk privately.”

“Paul, I don’t think—”

“Gene, it’s okay.”

He didn’t really think it was okay, being alone with this girl. No matter how small and timid she was, that didn’t change what she’d done, what she was capable of. But he thought he’d stand a better chance of getting the curse removed if Gene wasn’t there staring daggers into her. Whatever he’d done to Carol, however he’d hurt her, it was up to him to try and smooth over, not Gene. Gene, who still hadn’t withdrawn his hand from Paul’s shoulder.

“Paul, don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid.” He turned to Carol. “Look, we’ll go to the basement and talk this over there, all right?” He’d almost bet she was familiar with that basement. Mary-Anne had said she wanted to be the next Pamela des Barres, hadn’t she? She’d probably gotten with dozens upon dozens of rockstars.

Except that didn’t feel right. There wasn’t that—Pamela’d been before his time, but Connie Hamzy, even Bebe Buell, and the weird entourage of girls he’d almost started to recognize when he’d tour parts of America over again, they all had some sort of—charm and self-confidence propping them up, at least for as long as it took to come. This girl seemed totally devoid of that. This girl reminded him, uncomfortably, of—

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I said okay. We can go downstairs.” Carol glanced, haltingly, at Gene. “I won’t hurt him.”

Gene’s expression was wary. Paul couldn’t blame him. He clasped Gene’s arm, briefly.

“I’ve got to do this myself, all right? I’ll be right back.” He squeezed Gene’s arm; for a second, just a stupid second, he wanted to kiss him. Like they really were together. Like they’d… like they’d really shared something beyond an evening and a few dances and a few kisses not five minutes ago. Something in Paul’s stomach felt all mangled, whether because he couldn’t manage to do it or because he wanted to, he wasn’t sure. Gene inclined his head in a slight nod.

“You’ve got twenty minutes.” Gene was directing the words at Carol, not Paul. “I’m coming down there if he’s not back by then.”

Paul started to say he didn’t have a watch, but Gene was unlatching his own and putting it in his hand before he could. The silver felt heavy in his palm, heavy and warm from Gene’s skin. It was just as well that he hadn’t tried to put it on him; it would’ve been loose enough to be laughable. Paul nodded.

“I’ll see you, Gene. C’mon.”

--

It felt weird, going anywhere without Gene at his side. Made him feel bare, somehow. Two girls walking together down the VIP floor, without anything recognizable about either of them, was ironically enough to garner quick glances from the people around. Paul sped up his steps more than he needed to, dimly satisfied at the way Carol was having to scurry to keep up with him, heading down the stairs to the main dancefloor, and then past that, to the basement.

He’d thought a doorman might be there to block the way for non-VIPs, but there was no one at all. Maybe Ace had been right when he’d said Rubell’s workers were as loaded as he was. Maybe they were just lucky. He wouldn’t question it, holding the railing in one hand, Gene’s watch in the other. Twenty minutes. He stood at the foot of the steps, waiting on Carol, and then, once she’d descended, started knocking on the doors that lined the basement. A whole hallway full of them. He didn’t stop knocking until he came to a door where he didn’t hear an answer back, and he opened that door, turning on the light, looking the room up and down before gesturing for Carol to come inside, and then shutting the door on them both.

The room was small, the carpet dirty and full of ground-in glitter and smeared stains. There was a coke spoon on the floor, a box of tissues, and a bare king-sized mattress. Studio 54’s luxury basement suites, tawdry and disgusting as a tenement. With nowhere else to sit, Paul lowered himself onto the mattress next to Carol, sitting on one corner while she sat on the other. Her knees were bent, ankles up against the side of the mattress. His legs were stretched out but closed on the floor, more from concern about what might be crawling around on the carpet than any lousy efforts at ladylike fakery.

It wasn’t the way he’d wanted to confront her, in a grimy little room, wearing a dress that made it seem, maybe, like he wanted to be like this. Odd as it was after what she’d done, she seemed almost like she was the one afraid of him. She didn’t say a word at first, just looked at him, gaze right on his face now, hands resting her knees, watching him as he put on Gene’s watch, having to clasp it several inches below his wrist just to keep it from falling off. He wondered what she was seeing, if she had a better idea of what was under the surface than Gene did, just by virtue of having done this to him. He wondered if she was disappointed, when she finally spoke.

“You look nice.”

Paul didn’t answer.

“I didn’t think you’d look that nice.”

“Did you think I’d come out here in a sack?”

She bit her lip, flinching, shaking her head. For a bizarre moment she looked like she was about to apologize to him, and then she seemed to steady herself.

“I was just surprised. I didn’t really think it would turn out.”

“Well, it did.” Paul couldn’t manage to catch himself. He was scared, sure, but he was pissed-off, too. He’d counted on her crowing over the damage like some corny Batman villain. That would’ve been so easy to smart back at. But this fragile slip of a girl that still seemed cowed by him—this girl, instead, at the crux of all his problems—there was no satisfaction in snapping at her, any more than there’d be from tearing a piece of paper or blowing out a candle. “Carol—what the hell did I even do to you to deserve this?”

Carol shook her head again, rubbing her hands up and down her jean-clad thighs, like an anxious athlete, like she was trying to gear herself up, almost. The words seemed to tumble out of her throat, like pebbles and shells pushed out by the tide.

“Y-you don’t even know. Mary-Anne said you wouldn’t. She said I could try whatever weird hex I wanted, and you’d never know who did it to you, or why. I guess she was half-right.”

“Are you going to tell me? Look, Carol, whatever it was, I’m—”

“You’re sorry?” She shook her head. Her face was starting to flush, body stiffening. That weakness to her, that fear, seemed to be fading out, blue eyes narrowed. Every sentence seemed to be fueling her, getting louder and louder. “You think you can just apologize and I’ll reverse it for you? Y-you can just stare at me real sad and I’ll feel bad for you?”

“I can’t apologize if I don’t know what I did!”

“That’s your whole damn problem! That’s all of it!” Carol reached over, grabbing his arm. He was too surprised to jerk away. She let go for him, after a squeeze that, even now, in this body, was hardly tight enough to hurt at all. “You don’t know anything! You aren’t anything! People—people wanna be like you! Girls wanna sleep with you! They think there’s something you’ve got that they can get at, but there’s not!”

“What are you talking about?”

Her lip was wobbling, her face completely red, all the way to her neck. He was hoping she was high, hoping he had some leverage, somehow. He didn’t think she was.

“You know what they say about you in the magazines?” she blurted. “They say you’re so, so sensitive. They say you’re shy. That you’re wanting to commit to someone, but you just haven’t found the right girl yet.”

“That’s—”

“I believed it.” Carol bit her lip. “I believed all of it. W-why shouldn’t I have believed it? What the hell else did I have going for me? I was flunking out of college.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry at all! You’re just sorry I did this to you!”

“I—” Paul started, then swallowed the rest. She was right. But more than that, he wasn’t in a position to argue her on anything. She could make him a girl permanently. Or do something even worse to him. Better to try and let her get it all out.

The funny thing was, the sad thing was, he wasn’t sure how. He wasn’t used to anyone spilling on him. Peter, maybe, in the early days, but besides him… people didn’t confide in him. Even Gene didn’t. Luckily, the girl didn’t need any prodding.

“I was flunking out of college,” she repeated, quieter now. “My dad had just died. That’s how I got into the occult. I’d try and contact him. But I never got him. That was two years ago.”

Paul opened his mouth to apologize again, then, figuring she’d yell, he reached over, hesitantly vying for her hand. Her mouth wobbled, and she yanked her hand back before he’d even grasped it.

“My mom was… trying to get me to withdraw from all my classes and come home. But I didn’t. I just kept skipping them. I’d go downtown, watch movies, go to the record store. That’s when I saw you.”

“Were we doing a signing?”

“Yeah. But I hadn’t heard of you. I was just there to buy an album.”

“What album?”

“Have You Never Been Mellow.”

Oh, God. Paul managed a tight smile.

“Olivia Newton-John.”

“That’s right. I-I wasn’t going to get your album, ’cause I didn’t know who you were, but… you were all at the front of the store, and—I was holding her album, and… you waved at me.” Her voice had softened up as she kept going, that hard edge whittling to nothing. “It’s stupid.”

He wanted to agree. It was outstandingly stupid. If every girl he’d ever waved at hated him half as much as this chick did, he’d have been hung, drawn, and quartered years ago. But the look in her eyes was so miserable, and his body was so heavily on the line, that he couldn’t manage a word.

“That’s not why I did this to you, anyway. I got your album and all of you signed it. Dressed to Kill. You were right at the end—then you… you said you had a show tomorrow. So I went and—”

“And I picked you up after, right?”

She snorted.

“No. I was too far back. You didn’t even see me.” Her hand was on the mattress now. “But that’s what got it started. I’d get all the music magazines. I kept looking out for KISS. I-I wanted to know all about you.”

“Just because I spoke to you?” Paul swallowed, shook his head. “Carol… Carol, KISS was nothing back then. If Alive hadn’t been a hit, we—”

“You were something to me. I didn’t care what you were to anybody else.” Carol wasn’t looking him in the eye. She was staring at the floor, or maybe at his heels, her voice almost on the verge of wobbling again. “My… my roommate, she—she still had that old Mark Spitz poster on the wall. The one with where he’s wearing all his medals, you know? So why couldn’t I want you? At least you were around! At least I knew I could get you, if I kept trying!

“So I kept trying. I had lots of time. I got kicked out of college the end of that semester. My mom’d given me some of the insurance money after Dad died. I spent that whole summer chasing musicians around.” She took a ragged breath. “I saw Lynyrd Skynyrd twice, I saw the Stones at the Garden, Fleetwood Mac, Aerosmith… all those guys. I figured out how to get backstage. And then… that next year, when KISS was back in town—I got you.”

He was starting to remember her now. She hadn’t been any prettier then, their first time together. He remembered opting for her because she seemed to want it most, the way he tried to aim guitar picks at the fans that seemed most desperate for them. But he’d only noticed her at all on the outset because she was very short, the shortest girl in the entire Coop that evening. It had appealed to him, in some weird way—kind of made her endearing. Just a little bit of a chick.

“I picked you up. That was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one I carried out of the Coop.”

She looked a little startled, but she nodded.

“You’re the only one I ever did that to.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I…” Paul hesitated.

He’d been in a good mood that evening, really good. Gene had gotten to the Coop first, as was typical. Then Ace—he knew because he’d passed him in the hallway, face halfway made up and a girl on his arm. He didn’t know about Peter. He’d seen the girl, he’d seen Carol, staring at him with a look that was practically beatific. Like those weird Catholic icons. It should have turned him off, but paired with her height and build, it had just given him an idea. He’d pointed at her; she’d started to walk towards him, and then he picked her up bridal-style, carrying her past one hotel threshold and to another. The other girls in the Coop just about lost it. And Carol, Carol was giggling.

It hadn’t been hard to carry her from the Coop to his hotel room. She probably didn’t weigh much more than ninety pounds. He hadn’t had to sit her down once until putting her on the bed. He remembered being a little pleased with his own theatrics, remembered thinking that it was too bad his taste usually ran to taller girls; otherwise, he might have tried the trick again.

But that was the only thing he remembered from that first evening with her. He couldn’t remember tears or her having trouble getting off or anything; it was just a typical night. He exhaled, trying not to be intimidated by the look in her eyes, the disgust there, the bitterness.

“Carol, I—look, I don’t understand. What was the problem? What didn’t I live up to?”

Carol looked at him. Really looked at him, blue eyes watery.

“Nothing. You were just like all the magazines said.”

“So—”

“You were really good. Well, I thought you were. It’s not like I could compare.”

“You said you—”

“I said I figured out how to get backstage. I didn’t say I slept with all those guys to do it.” Her mouth twisted acridly. “I wasn’t that cheap. I was just waiting on you.”

“Waiting on…” There was a prickling down his spine as it hit him. “Wait, you… were you a virgin?”

Her mouth opened like she was about to speak, or about to sob. She closed it and nodded instead, tears dripping down her cheeks. Paul’s stomach started to churn. He didn’t know how to answer.

“Carol, if I got you pregnant, if you—caught something, I—”

“You didn’t get me pregnant!” Her voice cracked. “You didn’t give me anything! Y-you just slept with me!”

“Then—”

“You took my virginity! Then you got up and took a shower! Asked me to leave like I was a whore! It didn’t mean anything to you! A-all the time I’d spent! All the money I’d spent! Reading about you! Figuring out about you, how t-to get to you—and it didn’t mean a goddamn thing! You only wanted me long enough to get off!” She was crying now. “I-I wanted it to be different! I wanted to mean something to you!”

“Carol, stop—”

“A-and I knew I wouldn’t! I knew I’d be like e-every other girl, but I didn’t want… I-I thought if I could… if I could have you, just once, it’d be enough for me. Just once. But having you made me feel even worse than before!”

He sat there stunned, without a word. One hand shifted awkwardly again, but he didn’t reach for her this time. Instead, he grabbed a tissue from the box next to the mattress, placing it on her thigh. Her fingers clamped around the offering, but she didn’t bring it to her face at first.

“I wasted myself on you. I knew that before you told me to leave. Y-you’d be in some other city the next night, fooling around w-with some other girl.  Your breakfast meant more to you than I did.” She rubbed the tissue against her eyes, streaking her eyeliner. “I couldn’t stand it. I threw up as soon as I got out of the hotel.”

Paul’s throat felt dry. He couldn’t say she was wrong, because she wasn’t. He couldn’t say he hadn’t ever thought about it, because he had. He had wondered. He did know he slept with virgins on tour sometimes, just from body language and, sometimes, from the blood. He thought they knew what they were in for, assumed they’d made their choice with just as much awareness as any Butter Queen or Sweet Connie. He didn’t drug girls; he didn’t fuck drunk girls, and he didn’t try to hurt them. But he didn’t give a damn about them, either. He hadn’t in years and years. They came with the tour. Pick the girl like a room service entrée. Never think about the after, or the kind of place she lived in, or the things she wanted—because thinking about that might stir his conscience, might make her matter.

“Then I went home a-and just went to pieces. I even called up my mom.” She sniffled, wiping her nose on a clean edge of the napkin. “I didn’t tell her what happened. But she told me to come back home. I did for awhile, but… it didn’t help. I just kept thinking about you. Going through all those girls l-like we were toilet paper. You and all your stupid bandmates. You and all the other rockstars. Claiming you were looking for the right one. All that bullshit. I wanted to hurt you like you’d hurt me. And I figured out how to do it.”

Paul swallowed thickly.

“It took months to get it all worked out. Marbas is so particular.” Her eyes closed. “I had to make all these offerings just to summon him right. He thought the whole thing was… was funny. That’s why I didn’t really think he’d done it.”

“So you did conjure Marbas.”

She looked a little surprised he knew the reference.

“Yeah. Marbas told me what I needed. How to get to you. I knew you’d come before you walked into CBGB that night.” Her lips tilted up. “You were better that second time, you know. Maybe just ’cause he told me what you liked. You didn’t carry me anywhere. But you offered to let me shower with you, after. I almost changed my mind about cursing you.”

“I wish you had.”

“I don’t.” She wiped her eyes on the tissue again, seeming to recover a little. “It didn’t turn out like I thought it would. You haven’t had it that bad.”

“How the hell can you say that to me? You ruined my life! How can you have the… the nerve to—”

“What’s happened to you?” She twisted the tissue in her hand, crumpling and tearing it. “You’ve got a nice dress. You’re pretty. Y-you’re still getting the VIP floor at Studio 54. You didn’t even have to do anything nasty for it.”

“I’ve got a tour I can’t go on. I’ve got family I can’t see. You can’t—”

“How come you’re even here, Paul?” she interrupted, as if she hadn’t even heard him. “It’s ’cause you just got Gene to take care of you, right? I bet that’s how it’s been this whole time.”

Heat seemed like it flooded his throat. Got him to take care of you. Like… like he was just some dog with a limp, scurrying into the house for comfort and petting. Like he wasn’t capable. Like he had to have Gene there, like he was screwing around, just screwing around with what he knew Gene wanted out of him, just to get ahead, just to get his body back. His guts felt like they were twisting and coiling inside him. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t like that. He wanted to burst into the truth, as lowly as it was, and he couldn’t get the words out. Easier to let her think he was rotten than to own up to—

“Gene—”

“I saw you kissing him.” She said it slowly, still tattering what was left of the tissue. “It’s not just the girls you’d hurt. You’d use anyone to get what you wanted, wouldn’t you? Even him. Y-you really did deserve what I did.”

“Carol, it’s—”

“I won’t take it off.”

Paul stared. His heart felt like it had dropped somewhere down into his twisting guts. He was breathing hard through his nose, mouth twitching. He hadn’t even asked yet. He hadn’t even asked yet, and she’d decided. His gaze drooped, unbidden, to his hands, fingers still long, wrists too thin to even hold Gene’s watch on them, not his hands at all, not really. He didn’t want them. He didn’t want to be like this. Not for forever. He didn’t want to face—

“You’ve got to!”

He hadn’t touched her since that ill-fated reach for her hand earlier. Still trying the time-worn ways to get a girl’s attention, even though it couldn’t possibly work now. Still not really aware that he didn’t have the presence he’d taken for granted his whole life. He turned on the bed, legs splayed out to the side of the mattress, and grabbed her bare shoulders. She bit her lip, drawing back a bit, but didn’t try to push him away.

“You can’t leave me like this! I-I can’t live the rest of my life like this! I don’t want to!”

“I don’t think you’ll have to, Paul.”

 “What are you—” Paul stopped, eyes widening, hands shifting down from her shoulders. “Carol, please. I’ll—I’ll pay you, I’ll do anything, all right? I’ll—what do you want? Do you want to fuck me again? Date me? I’ll do that. Whatever you want. I can’t—please, you have to—”

“You think I’d be hot for you when you’re like this?” She snorted. “You caused it. You can fix it.”

“You caused it, damn it! You can fix it!”

She shook her head.

“You weren’t paying attention. It took months to summon Marbas. He won’t want to come back to undo it for me. Not this fast.” She exhaled. “If you want to break the curse, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

“How?”

“It won’t be hard on you, Paul, don’t worry. I’m surprised you didn’t get there already.”

He didn’t hesitate. Even her slight got shoved to the side in his eagerness.

“What do I need to do?”

She shifted, leaning back and resting most of her weight on her arms, against the mattress. Posture that shouldn’t have seemed stiff at all but somehow did.

“Depend on somebody else the way I depended on you. The way all those girls depended on you. Give yourself up just like they did. That’s fair, right?”

Paul sat there stunned. His palms were sweating.

“Give myself up. You mean—”

“Give up your virginity. Get fucked, Paul.” Her mouth was unsteady again, twitching at the corners in her effort not to cry. “You’re still a guy, so maybe you won’t even care. But I hope you do. I hope you feel like I did. I hope you feel like you wasted it on someone that didn’t give a damn. T-that’d be enough for me.”

“That’s what I need to do?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s all?”

Carol took the pieces of tissue, wadding them up and pushing them into her pocket. Then she stood up, biting her lip.

“Yeah. That’s all.”

He started to get up himself. His throat still felt hot, heart and guts all out of alignment, utterly uncertain. Whatever sparks of anger she’d had before were gone already, and she seemed smaller now than ever, like a battered kite, flimsy, forlorn. Someone who’d put all her hopes in something that couldn’t pan out.

He knew who she reminded him of. He’d known the whole time.

“Carol.”

“This is one room you’re not showing me out of,” she said quietly, and walked out the door.

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley #gene simmons #gene simmons x paul stanley

[knightthunderis]

Ch 8 Tours and History Lessons

Byron knew that this commoner had him over a barrel.  Without her, he, Malachi and House Blanchard were out of the running.  She was certainly not like any commoner he had ever come across besides Derrick Werner and his sister Serephine.  She did not negotiate terms like a commoner or a waitress.  She spoke like a CEO and there was something about the way she presented herself that actually made him afraid of her. She radiated power and strength.  She held herself in a stance of power and she knew it, she owned it and radiated it.  As he looked her over, he noticed her crest pin and recognized who it represented.  He had to agree to listen to and follow through on her terms if he wanted House Blanchard to survive this Social Season.  He sighed and then met Reimeiko’s eyes before speaking. “Alright Lady Reimeiko, what are your ground rules and terms.” the duke asked.

“Well first off I know that you recognize the crest I wear, so you now know who I really am.” Reimeiko started.

“Yes, Reimeiko Christyne Amaryllis Thunderis, Crown Princess of the kingdom of Thunderia.” Byron said.  “The eldest child of Thor and Kyiandra Thunderis.  But we will get into that later.  Now to your rules and regulations?”

“The rules and regulations are as follows.” Reimeiko said. “One, the word commoner is not to pass anyone’s mouth anymore.  You people spout it off like it is a vulgar word and it is not.  Except for a twist of fate, you could have been born into a common family and there is nothing wrong with them. Two, you will not talk down to me or treat me like I am inferior to you, you have to earn respect to gain it.  Three, no matter what happens, what I say goes no if, ands or buts about it.  I have spent my whole life being trained to be a queen, warrior, defender, protector, wife and mother.  I know the rules of court and customs and how to conduct myself as such so only if I need your knowledge elsewhere will I ask for it.  Four, the titles will only be engaged during these formal affairs no where else.  Titles do not make the person, it is how they act around others that makes them or breaks them.  Five, there will be straight up honesty if this is going to continue.  You know who I am, where I fit in and where I come from.  There will be no secrets here between us.  If I detect any falsehood or misinterpretation on your part, I will sever my connection to the both of you right then and there and there will be no turning back.  There will more than likely be more rules that come up but for now these are a start.  Are we agreed?”

“Agreed.” Byron and Malachi said.  Reimeiko sensed sincerity and honesty in both men and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alright, now I want the full story from you about what is really going on with your house and family.” Reimeiko said, “I want the truth, no embellished fabrication.”

“Alright, like I said.” Byron replied sadly. “Perhaps Malachi did not fully explain what is going on, but I will.  While he has been around the prince, I have been back here doing the real work of running the house and estate.  And that is where you come in, but considering everything you brought to light, maybe we should reconsider our options.  You do not need us sponsoring you considering where you come from.”

“No, the sponsorship is a good cover,” Reimeiko said. “Just like my waitress cover at Russo’s.  ThunderStarUniversal will cover you financially for now, but because of the delicacy of this investigation I can not reveal everything yet.  I think there is more on your family’s financial strain than just old man Barnaby’s excessive spending.  Your finances will be covered in other ways for you two alone.  I have my suspicions about what is going on but until I have proof I really need you to trust me.”

“It is something we could use right now actually because we are kind of well very broke.” Malachi added. “I know I overstep but she said there was to be complete honesty and since she is representing our house, we can trust her because she is trusting us.”

“There is no shame in being broke.” Reimeiko said. “I have been there.  As long as you have the necessities in life everything else does not matter.  I guess that explains why I had to buy my own outfits and I guess I will be buying everything I will need here including the gown for the masquerade.  But that is okay.  As the Princess of Thunderia, I do have help in the financial situation in more ways than one.”

“Unfortunately that is precisely so.” Byron replied. “We can only afford the bare minimum.  No one outside House Blanchard knows how bad things really are for us.”

“Cecil is in this upto his ears and we have to know why and how.” EnDaryien said. “Reimeiko, using your Knight Thunder powers, do you sense anything out of the ordinary so far?”

“Maybe it is your former brother in law’s presence that is making me uneasy, but I am not sure.” Reimeiko thought. “I will keep digging to find it all.  He is married to Seidre’s twin sister Coradae.  I am sure that she will remember Reimeiko uh, I mean me.” Aloud, she asked. “Do you get money if I end up marrying the prince?”

“Not directly.” Byron replied. “But we can leverage the prestige to great effect.  It would be best to get that leverage before others found out our situation.  In the circles we run in, if word got out about our financial ruin, it would be a major scandal.  but our name is still worth something here in the royal line.”

“Their financial ruin is due to Barnaby’s major spending.” Marco said through the earpiece. “According to reports, he is in a coma in a major hospital in the West Indies.”

Reimeiko switched to Thunderian. “I think that ought to be checked out.  Something tells me that if this coma is for real then he would not be squandering the family fortune and there would be receipts of the purchases.”

“I will check right into that and send a small group to check out the hospital that Barnaby is supposedly in.” Marco said.

“At the very least, we can introduce you to the right people and get you invitations to the right events.” Malachi replied. “We can offer you a first rate education in the ways of court, starting with your wardrobe and branching out from there.”

“What did I just say about an education?” Reimeiko asked. “I know more about the ways of court and warfare than any of those so-called women in this court.  I am about to show those snobs up when I win Karyson back and get to the bottom of this mystery.  And what is wrong with what I am wearing?  I will have you remember this is the formal uniform of the houses of Thunderia and Galaxia and I represent both.”

“I guess one could consider it well, unconventionally adventurous.” Byron offered. “The point is whether or not you dress the part.  Now it is time to start memorizing the lineage of each great house.  No wait. Perhaps it is more urgent to educate you on silverware from the least to the most obscure.  You may dress the part but you also need to play it.”

“Byron, breathe.” Reimeiko ordered. “I am up-to-date on courtly maneuvers, table etiquette, manners, wine tasting, various dinner conversations and otherwise.  Furthermore, I was at the top of my class when it came to memorizing and knowing the lineage of all of the kingdoms in and around the Universal Alliance.  I know everything there is to know about your kingdom’s various great houses and that is including yours.”

“Hey, Byron, let us not scare Reimeiko off.  She just got here.” Malachi replied. “We should show her the more fun side of living here.  I was going to take her on a tour of the palace.”

“Yes, I suppose that it would not do for Reimeiko to get lost or worse,” Byron gulped. “cause an international incident by walking into the wrong room. But the lessons--”

“Maybe while we are on the tour,” Malachi added. “You can talk about the royals of the past or something.  Teach while we are on the tour. I know that you can walk and talk at the same time.”

“I hope that you mean the distinguished history of the kingdoms.” Byron replied. “What do you say to a tour guide, Reimeiko?  Do you want to see all that the palace has to offer?”

“I would be delighted.” Reimeiko said. “I am a learning sponge.  I am ready for everything you wish to teach me.  Although, I know everything there is to know about all of the Universal Alliance kingdoms.”

“Yeah, totally radical.” Malachi gushed. “I do not even know where to start, but it does not matter since we are going to see everything.”

“Oh heaven help me.” Byron sighed. “Now the first stop is the dining room.  The Ruby dining room was built in the seventeen hundreds and is a display of the kingdom’s great wealth.  Everything you see here is made of the finest materials and by artisans at the top of their trade.  This room is most renowned for hosting the terms of the peace treaty between Thaddea and the as of yet burgeoning country of Armentaria.”

“Armentaria is well known for its overload of military might and the royal family’s brute force.” Reimeiko chimed. “The present queen Elisha is quite the stuck up little twerp, acting like she is higher and more powerful than anyone else around, but she is also arrogant, spoiled, self-centered, conceited, rude and very obnoxious.”

“You seem to speak from having experienced meeting her somewhere along the way in your life and travels.” Byron acknowledged.

“Unfortunately yes.” Reimeiko said. “I mean, granted, as young as she was at the time, she really had and has no idea how much bigger, stronger, and more powerful the Universal Alliance is compared to her fleet.  Her husband is a big blowhard who is all talk and no real action.  He talks a big game and can dish it out but he can never take it.  He is all big and bad when he is in the lead and is pushing people around, but if the tables get turned on him or someone calls his bluff and takes him down, he runs off like the hounds of hell are on his tail.”

“Wow. Now that is what I call calling them like you see them.” Malachi said gushing. “You really are the Princess of Thunderia and the leader of the Universal Alliance.”  

#thunderstaruniversalenterprises #kingliam2019 #texaskitten30 #knightthunderis #trrliam #ao719 #glaimtruelovealways