#i want to be clever and sexy but I’m actually astonished

[rosefinnigen]

yall i—

#i want to be clever and sexy but I’m actually astonished #also I was not the one who made this comparison #that credit goes to @jawwtin #like obvs it’s me in both pictures but he’s the one who put the pictures side by side like ‘check it out’ ya know #anyway #hope you enjoy!! #belly #blue stripes 🥰 #also I posted this twice on accident SHHHH

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Ok, yoga thots...instead of finding him a class, Nush offers to show him the basics. At her or his apartment. My yoga instructor was very...hands on. He wasn’t shy about coming up behind you and yanking your hips into the proper alignment or moving you into the correct pose. I can imagine Nush being the same. Telling Marcus to relax into it, pushing and pulling him into down dog or warrior, etc. and neither of them are unaffected by the seemingly careless but inherently intimate touches.

Once their relationship is more established, I can him turning the tables on her; teasing her with light touches to “correct” her form. Pulling her hips firmly back into him when she’s in down dog because “she really needs to extend into and out of the pose”. Yeah...yoga thots 🥵

For you @silverwolf319 Enjoy the fluff to sexiness ❤️❤️❤️

Marcus Pike is a good man. He does not spend the hours you practise yoga having impure thoughts about what he knows is enclosed in your brightly tie-dyed sports bra and how those tightly fitting leggings leave nothing to his imagination. He wouldn’t dream of the possible different positions he could comfortably take you in, on that yoga mat that is almost permanently unrolled on his balcony. He does not think about the strength, curve and definition of muscle in your thighs when you pedal your legs in downward dog. Or how, those thighs look wrapped around his head or how they could easily snap his neck with their goddamn strength.

What a way to go!

Today, you have those shiny silver shorts on - the ones that when you bought them, you loved them so much that you did what you thought were comical shimmies all around the apartment in them and although all Marcus could do initially was laugh, they soon were strewn upon the floor.

They keep catching the morning sun, making your ass sparkle like a sexy disco ball. In stark contrast, your black vest top is like a second skin absorbing some of the shock factor of your lower half. Instead of Marcus’ usual position of sitting at his dining table in the chair opposite the door, he has decided to join you, out on the balcony.

“What do you want? Have you come to disrupt my path to Nirvana?” You cheekily question the purity of his intentions, whilst settling yourself on your mat, cross-legged with your weight evenly across your sit bones, about to begin mindful breathing.

Marcus reaches out to encircle his arms around you in a hug, kissing the side of your forehead, “Teach an old man some new tricks. Your brother was fit to be tied when he found out I only do running and weights. He said that as the yoga queen, you are the deity I need to bow to.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“Okay, so I’m paraphrasing... slightly.”

Marcus grins at the small huff you exhale as he knows full well that means he’s got his own way, “Fine, but just remember that yoga goes way beyond the physical asanas. Sometimes just thanking your body for breathing is all you need to achieve from your practice.”

“My breathing is okay - but my IT bands and my hamstrings are not,” he concedes.

“Alright clever clogs, you’ve just been for a run haven’t you?” Marcus nods at you by way of confirmation, “Thought so, stinky boy.”

Teasingly waggling his sweaty pits towards you - that by no stretch of the imagination actually smelled - he loves watching your pretence of disgust whilst trying to swallow a giggle, “Right, we’re going to start by stretching your spine six ways.”

“Is that even possible?” He asks, eyes widening and skin looking a little ashy.

“This is just your warm up, idiot,” you swat at his shoulder playfully, “Sit however you feel comfortable, put your left hand on the outside of your right knee and now as you breathe out, I want you to twist to the right. With every exhale, try to twist a bit more.”

Crunch-

Marcus’ face contorts in horror at the sounds coming from his body, “Should my spine have made that noise?”

“Yep. Now you’re going to do the twist the opposite way- right hand on left knee and then twist to the left.”

Clunk-

“That already feels pretty good - can I go eat pancakes now?”

He loves how you narrow your eyes, shaking your head at his level of commitment to the exercise, “Now, we’ll do a lateral stretch- right hand beside your hip and arc the left arm over your head,” you place your hands on Marcus’s back and chest to stop him from collapsing forwards, opening his heart up, “‘K, now you need to do the other side.”

“Now, I want you to come to all fours, with your back like a tabletop. You’re going to do a Cat and Cow here and then your back should be warm.”

After arching and curving his back until you are satisfied, he allows you to help him up into his first ever downward dog - he enjoys you guiding his hips back and telling him to bend his knees a little until his back is perfectly straight.

“Try holding this for ten breaths. This is a brilliant pose for runners as it strengthens your hamstrings, calves and foot arches.”

Marcus listens more carefully than you give him credit for, enjoying your no nonsense attitude. The little adjustments you do to him, make him more comfortable than he ever thought he’d be upside down with his ass in the air. And you’re right - of course you are - but being outside, breathing deeply and listening to the bird song is just making him feel so relaxed.

“Ok Bubs, I want you to bring your knee towards your hands and plant your right foot between your hands,” you gently instruct him, “Do it slowly, there’s no race. Now drop your left leg to the floor and sweep your arms up to the sky to balance. This is a low lunge - quite often called runners lunge- as it’s great for your IT bands and hamstrings.”

Marcus enjoys the all too brief feeling of your hands on his bottom to help him tuck his coccyx under before helping him back into a downward dog to work his left side. He watches you walk over to the edge of the balcony, the slight movement in your shorts throwing sunlight back at him.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

“Is it time for that lying down and sleeping pose yet?” Marcus questions pleadingly.

He loves the small laugh you give him, as you turn back towards him - eyes sparkling with mischief.

“No savasana yet, I thought we could have some fun with some couple poses,” oh that cock of your eyebrow has all the blood in Marcus’ body rushing to one area.

“Ok the first one is you holding me up in a plank position - your feet holding my lower tummy and your hands holding mine.”

Marcus places his socked feet gently against your hip bones, threading his much thicker fingers between yours, “Ready?”

He feels you take a small bounce up and catches your weight on his feet, straightening his legs, hoisting you up into the air.

“EAGLEEEEEE!” you squeal, eliciting a hearty chuckle from Marcus - the vibration making you almost lose your balance and wobble precariously, “ARGH!”

“Trust me, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let you fall - I promise,” Marcus promises wholeheartedly.

“I know you won’t,” he hears the little catch in your voice as you quietly answer, “Are you ready to let go of my hands? Keep your feet where they are - I’ll use my tummy muscles to keep myself up.”

Gradually unthreading his fingers from yours, Marcus lets go as you lift your chest into the pose. Seeing the shape you’re now in, he starts to hum the Superman theme, “I’m not sure I like these poses - you’re too far away from me and I’m touching even less of you than before,” his bottom lip sticks out in a juicy sulk.

“Oh, you want to be closer?”

“Uh yeah?”

“Ok, put me down,” you request as Marcus sets you mostly gently back onto your feet, “I’m going to help you into a bound angle pose - it’s not tricky and it feels really good as it opens up your pelvis, allowing good blood flow to the area.”

“Hah, certainly don’t have any problem in that area with you around,” Marcus winks at you.

Marcus relaxes his legs in front of him as you bend his knees outwards, placing the soles of his feet together, slowly bringing his heels in towards his groin. He shuffles his bum so that he sits directly on his sit bones, remembering what you’ve nagged him about before.

“You wanted to be close, right?” you check again, “I’m going to put myself between your legs and wrap my feet around your back now.”

“Mmm, this is better,” Marcus shuts his eyes as you settle against him, enjoying the sensation of you weaving your arms around the broad expanse of his back and resting your head against his shoulder. Looping his arms around you, he settles his head into your neck, inhaling the soft floral scent of your perfume. His eyelashes flutter butterfly kisses as his whole body relaxes into you.

Your buttery soft skin begs to be kissed and licked, nuzzled and nibbled. The closeness of your bodies has Marcus feeling giddy and drunk, despite the grounding of the floor beneath him. Focusing on the softness of your breasts pressing into him, he tries to mimic your deep inhalations and exhalations - desperately trying to suck in the air that you’ve just breathed out so that the same air can circulate through his body.

Feeling your hands move, snaking into the dark curls of his hair, Marcus pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes before he kisses you. Soft, full lips meet yours - kissing you is always a revelation to him, astonishing him and caressing his very soul. Your gentle touches teach him the depths of your love, your intelligence and how you utterly rule him with the tenderness of your tongue.

Clutching you closer to him - as if he could try absorbing your body into his - Marcus holds you tightly, allowing your absolute adoration of him to become the glue that mends the shards of his shattered heart. Slowly bridging the gaps and reconnecting parts that have been trampled by decades of painful love - non reciprocal and undeserving- glueing it, fixing it, rewinding it back to that moment where the only love you are concerned with is that of the unconditional one of your family.

The spinning headiness from the cocktail of safety and vulnerability in the sweetness of your kisses, never fails to sweep Marcus away. Blinking the wetness that has gathered in the corners of his eyes, he draws back, attempting to swallow back the lump that has formed in his throat.

“Hey,” he feels you searching his face for the reason for his tears, enjoying how your thumbs stroke his cheeks, “Are you ok?”

“Sweetheart, ‘m’ok,” he quietly murmurs, leaning forward to brush the dampness of his face into the dark silk of your hair, “I know you’ve said that sometimes yoga makes you open your heart but I didn’t realise how literal that was.”

He loves how much you treasure his openness - never any mocking or roll of the eyes for that. For so many it was always too much - far too intense and seen as needy. Nuzzling into the scent of lazy summer evenings in Provence, he presses sweet kisses into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp enjoying the small moans of pleasure.

With your foreheads resting lightly -sitting so close that a piece of paper cannot pass between the pair of you - your breathing and heartbeats meet in synchronicity. A slight tilt of your head with the offer of your lips and Marcus is sinking back into you. Lost in taste that is so entirely you -your breakfast of black coffee and bitter marmalade- tantalising his senses.

His hands untangle from the tendrils of your hair to seek out the even softer parts of you, stopping momentarily to stroke the sides of your chest - hitting the underwire of your bra, searching for the softness encased above. Marcus scoops the rounded flesh of your breasts in his bear-like paws as his thumbs search for the sensitive, responsive nubs. He loves how your body keens into his touch - how you naturally deepen the kisses, ladening them with such an intense sensuality that it never ceases to steal the very breath from his lungs.

With a growl into your mouth as you scratch your nails into his back, he feels you arch into his touch making him squeeze your nipples tighter between his gun-calloused thumb and forefinger - a gradually softening memory of his time back in the States.

Entirely confident that you can feel the pleasure that you are bringing him, Marcus grinds his hips further into you - the warmth of your core pressing teasingly against his hardness, making him feral in his need to claim you. A small mirror of his movement from you makes him drop his hands from your breasts and grab the succulent muscle of your bum - the sudden movement making him pull you on top of him, rocking your hips forward, as he lies back between your knees.

Looping his fingers into the glittering elastic of your shorts, he goes to pull them down but is stopped by your gentle grip around his wrists and a small shake of your head, “I want to make you feel good, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Marcus’ eyes roll back as you lean forward, pinning his hands above his head. Every small kiss you press into his skin leaves an imprint on his heart as you place them all the way down the velvety creased forehead, the aquiline arch of his nose and the patchy beard on his chin before licking down his throat. He enjoys the soft path that your breasts trail ahead of the warmth from your mouth, the sensation from the weight of them causing his cock to twitch.

A small flush runs through him as you lift the soft cotton of his t-shirt, a hint of embarrassment at the softness of his tummy. His hands unconsciously move to cover himself up, which in one smooth movement you have back above his head as you lick down his chest, sucking and nibbling each nipple as you edge ever lower to his treasure trail.

Feeling your fingers slide beneath the waistband of his running shorts as your mouth peppers kitten licks and kisses across his Adonis belt, he lifts his hips slightly to allow his shorts and boxers to be lowered. As his cock, which curves slightly to the left, springs free, it hits just beside his tummy button leaving a small bead of pre-cum. Marcus swallows hard, watching as you lap it up without a second thought, your hand wrapping the base of his length guiding the proud tip into the valley between your breasts.

The sensation of his cock being massaged there, encased by the soft pliable flesh, almost makes him explode right then, decorating your skin with a precious pearl necklace. The flicks of your tongue over the tip and gentle tugs of his balls, make Marcus’ mind empty of all thoughts as the surges of pleasure become more and more intense.

Marcus can’t help the guttural groans that escape his lips as you wrap the warm wetness of your mouth around his cock and suck. He holds your hair back from your face so he can watch his inches disappear between your lips. As your mouth, hands and tongue work in harmony together, he knows he won’t last long. The pressure builds and his hips arch up, chasinghis high. He cannot help but fill the morning air with his cries of ecstasy as he fills your mouth with a flood of cum. Pulse after pulse of semen bursts forth as you keep up the deliciously deep pressure around the base of his shaft.

He loves how you still keep his rapidly softening cock in your mouth - an absolute reassurance that there was no rush to come down from his heights of pleasure. Eventually, using the hands Marcus has wrapped around your head, he urges you to slide back up along his body. As you reach eye level with him, he surges forward crashing his lips into yours, unable to say thank you in any other way.

He loves how he can taste himself on your tongue. He loves how your normally relatively organised hair has been ruffled into standing out at mad-scientist angles. He loves the softness in your eyes and how your chest is still rising and falling quickly.

He loves.

He loves you.

Tag list : @yespolkadotkitty @astroboots @green-socks @bison-writes @mouthymandalorian @tardisfangurl @mrsparknuts @danniburgh @absurdthirst @sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lunaserenade @agirllovespancakes @zukoyonce @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

With massive thanks as ever to the beauteous @yespolkadotkitty for her betas of my soft core porn ❤️

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #ppascaledit #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #pedro pascal smut #marcus pike x oc reader #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #smut

[katehuntington]

2020, 1st edition Disclaimer: ‘Kate Huntington’s Author & Fanfiction Recommendations’ is a platform for writers, to show appreciation for their work and expand their audience. I do not claim to be the author of these stories, neither do I own them. Read each writer’s warnings carefully, most of them are rated +18. 

Without further ado, here is my list of recommendations.

One shots 

“While You Sleep” - written by @foreverwayward​ Fluff - Dean Winchester - 617 words       A heartwarming little fic about Dean living the domesticated life we all wish he could have. The writer has a very clever way of storytelling and the end might come as a surprise, only adding to the emotion it already brought along.

“Imagine” - written by @pennydrabbles​ Fluff - Dean x Reader - 800 words      ‘Imagine calling Dean after a bad day and saying you miss him,’ says the header of this marvelous little story. It’s soothing, with strong descriptions, yet never over the top. Simplicity isn’t necessarily a bad word. It takes skill to not overy describe a scene and let the tale be told by the personal emotion of the reader. The author is able to do this with such elegance, that you actually feel Dean’s comfort.

“Heartbeats” - written by @there-must-be-a-lock​ Fluff - Dean x Castiel - 930 words      Castiel is fascinated by the human heart, but doesn’t quite understand it, until he becomes human himself. I’ll start by saying that I don’t ship Dean and Cas together, but I do appreciate the people who do. What this little piece of art does is incredible, however, because while I was reading, I found myself rooting for them. The writer does a great job by using the literal human heart as a backbone of this story. Intriguing and very well executed.

“Everything That’s Yet To Come” - written by @fictionalabyss​ Fluff - Dean x Reader - 812 words      Dean experiences what the future beholds, with the people who he wishes could be there. The author took me by the hand through this moving little one shot, which feels like a collection of greatest hits and wishes come true. It offers peace and closure not only for the older Winchester brother, but for the reader as well. Beautiful piece of writing.

“Take A Drunk Girl Home” - written by @amanda-teaches​ Fluff - Dean x Reader - 1869 words      Dean taking care of others; it’s his nature and shows what a kind soul he truly is. The situation sketched here is no exception, and it’s softer than one can imagine. The pace is steady and the balance between fluff and comedy is just right. A lovely read.

“New Beginnings” - written by @our-jensen-ackles-love​ Fluff - Dean x Reader - 1665 words      New Year’s Eve; a new start, a new life and plenty of reason to celebrate. A lovely ‘feel good’ story that makes us forget about the monsters, pain and loss Supernatural is known for. The level of fluff is equivalent to cuddling with puppies.

“When He Cries” - written by @revengingbarnes​ Angst/fluff - Dean x Reader - 1894 words       When the woman who Dean loves falls victim during a case, the hunter has trouble dealing with the aftermath. And, boy... Does that hurt to witness. This is one of the most breathtaking stories I have stumbled on. The realism that is used to describe the gruesome and horrific angst, the emotion that is laced in every word, had me clutching my chest while reading. It’s is a beautiful piece of art.

“Nobody” - written by @soaringeag1e​ Angst - Dean x Reader - 2561 words      This one shot reminds us why we should never stay angry with a loved one and let a fight unresolved, because what if something bad happens and we won’t have the chance to make it right? The writer gives a great sense to that fear and having to watch Dean go through this nightmare is truly heartbreaking. 

“The Demon Inside You” - written by @foreverwayward​ Smut/angst - Demon!Dean x Reader - 4375 words       Curing Dean from the demon that he has become proves to be difficult when he’s so hard to resist. What else is hard to resist, is this beautiful pitch black one shot. I don’t read Demon!Dean fiction often, because it still feels foreign to see the character who I love so much turn into something evil. This however, is so gripping and well written, that the darkness swallows up the beholder. Rough, hot, sad, narcissistic, all these ingredients packed up in one hell of a story.

“Curves And Edges” - written by @kittenofdoomage​ Smut/fluff/angst - Dean x Reader - 4375 words       This equally sweet, sexy, funny and sad story is a big shout out to all women who think they don’t meet the beauty standards and feel like they will never be good enough to get noticed. It is one thing to replace a name with Y/N and call it a reader’s insert; it’s a gift to make every person reading this feels like they are the character in this story. The author handles every woman’s insecurities with grace, making her words both relatable and soothing. Her spot on version of Dean reminds us that we are all beautiful, desired and unique.

“Hold Her Tight” - written by @waywardbaby​ Fluff/smut - Dean x Reader - 2955 words     ‘A story of a deep need to feel someone close to you’, is how the author describes her work. I couldn’t have said it better, because this one shot isn’t about sex; it’s about love making, and there’s a difference. What I also appreciate, is that Y/N takes the time to pamper herself. We all deserve some self care.

“Watch Your F!cking Mouth!” - written by @impala-dreamer​ Smut/comedy - Dean x Reader - 1984 words       Dean falls under a literal curse, and it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I was wheezing, couldn’t breathe and died laughing. It’s astonishing how the writer can juggle comedy and sex without the two taking each other down. An uplifting read.

“Thank God For Sexual Frustration” - written by @winchester-fantasies​ Smut - Dean x Reader - 4398 words       God had nothing to do with writing this sinful story; we can thank the author for that. When Y/N is on a dry spell that has her frustrated, Dean helps her out in the best way imaginable. Delicious smut served in three courses, because we all know Dean keeps his lady satisfied.

Series:

“Life For Rent” - written by @winchest09​ Smut/angst/fluff - Mobster!Dean x Escort!Reader  - WIP      This amazing series follows an experienced, smart and resilient escort, who is ruled by contracts, money and aliases. When Dean becomes her client, he makes it his mission to understand what this interesting woman is hiding.       Conspiracies, deceat, crime. A strong family bond, blossoming love, oh, not to mention the sex. This series is intriguing beyond imagination and certainly not just another mobster fanfiction. The writing is smart and I could tell from the first paragraph that it’s loaded with hints and foreshadowing, but I couldn’t pick them out. This triggers a curiosity like an itch I can’t quite scratch away until I finish reading this story. And so I wait eagerly and drop everything the second a new chapter comes out.  An absolute must read!

“Findings” - written by @kathaswings​ Angst/smut/fluff - Dean x Reader - finished. Update: Sadly, this series is no longer online      This story starts out with what seems to be a routine demon hunt, until Dean and his brother find a frightened five year old survivor amongst the blood and corpses. Keeping the smart little Mackenzie safe and getting her back to her older sister proves to be difficult, because this case is a whole lot bigger than they anticipated and is likely to change their lives forever.      This is one of my favorite Supernatural series and I revisited it recently. The overall story arc is a mystery I just had to unravel and I couldn’t put it down if I wanted to. The bond between Dean and Mackenzie is so precious. Writing a child isn’t easy. I’ve read plenty of books and seen plenty of films in which the maturity the creators added wasn’t natural, but this author handles Mac’s dialogue amazingly well. What’s also interesting is the jumps from point of view between Dean and Y/N, giving very personal perspectives on the gripping story.

“When You Least Expect It” - written by @coffee-obsessed-writer​ Fluff/angst/smut - Jensen Ackles x Musician!Reader - WIP      This gorgeously written slow burn series kicks off when Jensen visits the idyllic town of Seaside. After a bad breakup he keeps his mind occupied with the organisation of a music festival, hoping to find a musician that fits the vibe he has in mind. He meets a spirited, undiscovered performer, not only her voice catching him by surprise. A friendship blossoms, with potential to grow into something more, but will their past allow the love they feel for each other?      Talking about an epic love story, but it’s so much more than that. The music that plays such an important factor, the setting that is Seaside. The fabulous supporting characters Bri, Rob, Jason and Jared, the wardrobe, not to mention the wonderful little gems and details that this author weaved into the story, showing how much love she has put into it. This is without a shadow of a doubt my favorite RPF I’ve come across.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the work of the authors above, don’t be afraid to let them know. I’m sure they will appreciate it. Feel free to share!

If you have any suggestions or would like a tag in the future, drop a request in my inbox or send me a message.

Love, Kate

‘Kate Huntington’s Author & Fanfiction Recommendations’ taglist: @adoptdontshoppets​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @idksupernatural​ @indecisive20something​ @tranquility-or-chaos​ @winchest09​ @wingedcatninja​

#Kate's must read #fic recs #Kate's fic recs #Supernatural fanfiction #Dean fanfiction #Sam fanfiction #Castiel fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #Supernatural #SPN #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean fanfic #Sam fanfic #Cas fanfic #Dean angst #Sam angst #Cas angst #Dean smut #Sam smut #Cas smut #Dean fluff #Sam fluff #Cas fluff #Dean x Reader #Sam x Reader #Dean Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x reader #Destiel #not mine

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader -”What Death Tastes Like” Part 4

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1      Part 2      Part 3      Part 5

Your Birthday

“Look at him, parading like a rooster!” Emma elbows you, huffing.

The Joker is on the terrace, nosing inside the coolers to find his favorite grape juice brand since he knows it should be in there somewhere. He’s sporting very dark purple pants and a much lighter shade purple shirt, fitted on his body to perfection plus two gold chains around his neck which makes one wonder why he didn’t add more giving his sense of fashion.

You pile up some fruits on your plate, gazing The Clown’s way with a smirk:

“Those trousers make his butt stand out.”

“That’s probably the reason for wearing them,” Emma sighs and you both burst up laughing, amused at the truth she admitted aloud.

“I feel this lustful desire of spanking him,” you blur out. “I bet your dad only unbuttoned half of his shirt because he obviously wants me to unbutton the other half: that sexy rooster can frizzle my feathers anytime he wishes,” you tease and she covers your mouth in a hurry.

“Y/N, can you not?!”

“Sssttt, you’ll wake up the baby,” the muffled sentence distracts Emma and she lets go, apologizing to the five weeks old:

“Oh, sorry angel,” she lingers over the baby basket placed on the empty table next to the self-serve buffet: Frost’s son is napping under the umbrella while his parents mingle for a little bit with the guests that already arrived at your birthday party. How did Jonny end up here? The crazy motive: his employer is to blame for the mess he created one hour ago, already fixed due to your sense of urgency.

The Joker showed up in time at 3pm for his “date” like you instructed; you opened the door and he immediately handed you a car sit containing the tiny human.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!”

“Ummm…thank you,” the hesitant Y/N invited him inside.

“I got you a present,” he widely grinned, confident nobody else came up with a better gift idea.

“… Whose baby is this?!...” you followed him, carefully walking with the adorable bundle in the living room; the sleeping treasure fussed for a few seconds and went back to dreaming, unaware he was away from his parents.

“Frost’s,” J answered and you turned towards the entrance, baffled.

“I’ll go open the door for him then.”

“That’s not necessary; he didn’t come with me.”

“What do you mean?!”

“He’s off today. I just went to his house to drop up some ammo, then sneaked in the nursery and took the baby.”

“And his parents were ok with that?!” you crinkled your nose, more and more suspicious regarding his behavior.

“They don’t know,” The King of Gotham calmly informed.

“You kidnapped Frost’s son?!”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” J rolled his eyes, offended at your accusation. “I took him.”

“Without his parents’ consent. So you kidnapped him!” you gasped at the insane revelation.

“I’m in charge,” The Joker logic surfaced instantly. “I don’t require consent! Why are you staring at me like this?”

“I keep on hoping you’re bluffing,” you cringed at his argument. “Give me your phone!” you ordered and the item was shortly in your possession, although you had to witness a lot of grievance from his part as you searched for Frost’s digits.

Praise heavens you did since his wife was absolutely hysterical when you called: their offspring was missing from the cradle and Jonny might not be the type of person that panics, yet he had a total nervous breakdown.

They were fast to come and pick up Evan, so yeah… that’s how The Frosts ended up at your birthday bash… Full credit goes to their amazing boss!

*************

After one hour

“Do me a favor,” your father continues his conversation with J. “I want you to check with your contacts and try to find more Cromyxillium for me; I’m in desperate need.”

“Don’t you have enough for Y/N?” The Joker growls at the view of Bane’s son entertaining himself with you and Emma.

“For now. Tomorrow I’m starting her on full therapy; I found a new formula to bind the molecules together, this way her system won’t reject the medicine like it did last week. It will make her sick but I’ll be here to supervise the entire process.”

“Aren’t you afraid it will kill her?” J’s sensitive personality comes to full bloom in the best of moments.

Jonathan Crane is silent, then articulates painful facts he can’t avoid sharing:

“I am… I don’t have any other options on such a short amount of time…My daughter is fading… her lungs are finished…” and he gulps, straining to regain composure. “If this experimental drug can restore damaged tissue, it can aid with her cancer… She agreed to the test because I’m a super smart dad,” he grumbles. “That’s what she said…that I’m a super smart… I might be… I don’t even know if my remedy will work or if it will speed up her demise.”

“Fine, I’ll inquire on the product,” The Joker agrees. “What’s in for me?”

Your father takes a deep breath, exasperated.

“What do you want?”

“Excuse me,” The King of Gotham interrupts. “I think my pride’s at stake: somebody’s attempting to steal my date!” he inflates his chest and finds it imperative to notify the puzzled parent. “Y/N’s my date, didn’t she tell you? I was strictly forbidden to bring Mara so I had to maintain my reputation somehow.”

“What reputation??!!! She mentioned it and I thought the whole idea meant only you being obnoxious!” Jonathan huffs.

“I am obnoxious!” The Joker sourly admits and crushes the large group forming due to Sam’s entertaining abilities.

“Hey Y/N, where’s the grape juice?” he finds a random pretext to get your attention as you gesture towards the end of the terrace.

“There’s a bunch on ice,” you giggle at Sam’s story and J lies:

“I couldn’t find any.”

“Maybe someone moved it,” you detach from the gathering and stroll with him in the area you saw what he’s asking for.

“Who gave you that pendant?” The Clown Prince of Crime investigates since you definitely didn’t have the jewelry earlier.

“Sam,” you touch the delicate diamond heart attached to the platinum chain. “It’s so pretty, I love it.”

“He scored major points with the birthday girl, huh?” J mocks.

“Well, apparently some people are aware of my preferences and some give me presents I can’t keep,” you hint and The Joker comprehends what you aim at.

“My gift was brilliant! You said that if we would have gotten married we would have had a bunch of kids, thus it means you adore them. That’s why I brought Evan.”

“Yeah, and his parents already took him home, leading to the reasonable conclusion we can assess from the fiasco: you actually don’t have a present for me. Oh, would you look at this: grape juice!” you sarcastically show him the huge pile of containers exactly where it’s supposed to be.

“How did I miss this?” J pretends to be shocked and sneers when he notices Bane’s son coming near you two. “Dance with me!” he unexpectedly sweeps you in his arms. “It’s a slow song, just move your feet,” he encourages. “What do you want for your birthday then?” Emma’s dad distracts the astonished Y/N furthermore.

“Hmmm… I can settle for a kiss?” you unconsciously caress the short hair on the back of his head while he quickly pecks your cheek. “Um… if I wanted a jellyfish sting I could have went to the aquarium,” you sassily react and The Joker rolls his eyes. “I want a proper kiss, unless you have those reserved for Mara.”

“Why are we talking about my girlfriend?”

“On and off girlfriend,” you emphasize. “A huge indicator you don’t care that much about her. You need a woman that genuinely loves you; she’s a catalyst fueling your tendencies, you don’t need that! You don’t fight fire with fire, OK?” you almost shout and ironically enough he decides to engage in your speech.

“What do you fight it with then?”

“Dynamite!” you proudly state. “Blow up everything, wipe the slot clean and start fresh!”

“A-ah…A-ha…”, he mischievously agrees. “I assume you’re the dynamite in this scenario?” the silver grimace spreads across his face.

“Perhaps.”

“Why is Bane’s son here?” The Joker changes the subject. “He keeps lurking around and it annoys me.”

“Don’t be jealous,” you mislead him on purpose. “Sam was my boyfriend in high school,” you brief your so called partner. “I’m fond of him.”

“Why would I be jealous?!” The King’s mood switches and you realize yours is also: the sole detail he’s interested in is to emphasize zero attraction for his daughter’s friend.

“Yeah…why would you be jealous?...” you sadly smile and let go before the song ends. “Listen, I have to return to my guests, alright? You don’t have to stay; you should go back to your fire because you certainly don’t know what to do with dynamite,” the meaningful reply leaves him intrigued again: no cocky response to your clever twist in words since he already lost the passive-aggressive altercation.

************

9:49pm  

You gaze at the starry sky, cozy on the inflatable mattress; the mesh on top of the tent is so thin you can hardly tell it’s there. Very quiet in the garden… you should have went to the river with the others, yet you felt the urge to be alone and rest before you reprise your treatment tomorrow.

“Y/N, are you in here?” The Joker’s voice is heard.

“No!” you grouchily snarl.

He unzips the tent and squeezes inside, obeying to your protest:

“Close it! I don’t want bugs in here!”

“I’m hiding from Crane, he made me do a bunch of stuff in preparation for your Cromyxillium therapy!” J complains to indifferent ears.

“I thought you bailed hours ago,” you coldly articulate.

“I was held prisoner in the underground lab! You should be thankful for my services.”

“You don’t do anything for free and I’m sure you’re over exaggerating anyway!”

“Whatever!” The Joker drops on the mattress next to you, deeply exhaling. “I’m beat; I’ll rest for a bit before I drive.”

You rest your fingers on your tummy, struggling to remain calm.

“I missed hanging out with my cuddling buddy,” J nozzles in your shoulder and you give him an insolent glare.

“We’re not cuddling buddies!”

“That’s too bad; I precisely came to deliver your birthday present. I resent the notion of a man unjustly accused of being cheap.”

“What birthday present?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“The kiss you demanded Y/N!”

“I’m good,” you disregard his offer and he hovers over you, captivated.

“I thought you have the hots for me, I even wore these hoochie pants to please you. I mean, I endured your affection and harassment for the past three years. I’m here now with an invisible olive branch so I think you should reconsider your answer.”

“Did you just say hoochie pants?!” you snicker at his distorted apology although you’re mad at him. “You didn’t wear them for me; you wanted to show off your assets!”

“It’s not my fault I’m handsome!” The Joker defends his wardrobe choice.

“I seriously want to be alone,” you indirectly imply he should disappear. “I’m tired of playing games. I won’t flirt with you anymore, I promise. Deal?” you lift your pinky up and there’s something strange concealed behind your abrupt vow.

“Why not?”

“First of all, I won’t have the energy: my father warned of serious consequences during the treatment. Second, it might kill me: we don’t know how my physique will endure; I have terminal cancer, remember?”

“Are you scared?” J whispers and you nod a yes, upset. “Then you should accept your gift in case you won’t have another occasion,” his rationale pushes you to reconsider your alternatives.

You pull him closer and wait, explaining your hesitation.

“It’s my birthday, you should be the one kissing me.”

The Joker doesn’t defy your logic and complies, unable to suppress an arrogant grin when you moan:

“God, your lips are so soft; I could kiss them all day.”

“Don’t get into it, I have to vacate the premises soon. I don’t want Crane to catch me in your tent and presume the worst.”

“My dad will be in the lab until morning time; you can stay if you want to,” you trace his jaw line, momentarily forgetting your grudge.

“Didn’t you preach about wishing to be alone?”

“Why are you making out with another woman besides your girlfriend?” you evaluate the waters with a question.

It doesn’t seem he’ll bother to justify his behavior thus you utter:

“I can be alone…with you. I’m 23, literally a consenting adult,” the important information is added for the heck of it.

“Consenting to what?” The Joker mumbles as you softly bite his lower lip.

“I hate you,” you pout and snuggle to him while he grabs a pillow, irritated at his involuntary reaction. J stuffs it in between the bodies and you swiftly toss it away.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble Y/N?”  

“You’re always in trouble,” you begin unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s go with the flow, shall we? No strings attached, no commitments. You know why?” you pause and continue. “I might not survive the Cromyxillium and I want to make love to the old guy I have a major crush on.”

“Old?!” The Clown prince of Crime scoffs.

“You’re basically twice my age,” you roughly estimate without proof and kiss him again. The Joker slides his hands under your t-shirt, opting to dismiss your affirmation with a different kind of truth.

“Do you recall when you asked me if I ever tasted death?”

“Yes…”, you bury your face in his neck, wondering if he’ll say something mean that will ruin the night.  

“You don’t taste like death,” J forces you to look at him. “You really don’t.”

“… … … … … … …  You think so?” the emotional Y/N sniffles, categorically surprised at the confession.

“Yeah. You actually taste like dynamite,” he winks and doesn’t mind the sudden meltdown: The Joker is not big at comforting people, but the girl in his arms feels relieved nevertheless.

She might not compare to the fire he’s used to, yet Y/N’s eagerness to blow up everything, wipe the slot clean and start fresh is unfamiliar territory that’s worth exploring.    

  Also read: MASTERLIST

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #joker leto #joker suicide squad #Mistah J #mister j #dcu #dc

[writing-radionoises]

a man of eternity

ship: kamukoma for: me and all those other sexy goth bitches who love vampires  genre: alternate universe - vampire! izuru and human! nagito prompt:  komaeda is cold and homeless and izuru is a sexy and forgiving vampire   notes: tw for blood drinking and background junkan, mostly just domestic fluff though

There's always been rumors about the mansion in the edge of town. Rumors that a vampire lives there, or maybe even multiple ones. Though Komaeda thought it was nonsense, probably just an abandoned old house that people thought was creepy. Besides, he doesn't really have anything to lose. Walking through the hard and cold rain in soaking, thin clothes with only a pocket full of change to his name, what's the worst that can happen? Actually, ignore that thought. A lot could happen, but it would be better than dying of hypothermia. Nagito climbed up the steps to the house, pulling the hood on his cape tightly with his hand that wasn't holding the lantern. He then knocked on the door to the mansion, as to make sure no one was home. There was no response, so Nagito tried the door handle. The door was unlocked, and it opened easily as Nagito cautiously entered the dark house. He closed the door behind him, carefully analyzing the house. It was dark and dusty, the furniture covered in clothes as if it hadn't been tended to in years. Nagito set the latern down on the table, pulling down the hood on his cape as he approached the fireplace. It was stocked with wood, a box beside it filled with paper and other burnable items. He quickly got to work with setting up the fire, then using the fire within his latern to bring it to life. The house lit up as Nagito then went to light candles around the room. He could now see the house in more detail. The walls were a light shade of gray, and the living room had many cases of books, much taller than Nagito and filled to the brim. A painting stood above the fireplace, a young strawberry blonde woman standing beside a darker, long haired man. There were wearing much older clothes than common fashion, this house had to be old. Behind Komaeda was a door into the kitchen, and stairs beside that. He dared not intrude, there was no need to. He was quite content where he was. In front of a warm fire in a pretty house... He wiped off the dust of the gold plack underneath the painting, reading the words carefully. "Junko Enoshima and Izuru Kamukura, 1314..." Komaeda hummed to himself, "They weren't even married, maybe siblings. Strange." Nagito sat down in front of the fire place once again, beginning to drift off. Life had not been kind to him in the past, but he had a feeling he was about to get very lucky. He laid down, using his cape as a blanket and arm as a pillow as he drifted to sleep.

He awoke in a warm and comfortable bed, not to sunlight drifting through the windows, but rather candlelight. Nagito blinked a couple times, his vision slowly returning as he caught sight of blazing red eyes, watching him carefully. "Good morning," says the owner of these eyes, "Are you doing well?" Nagito's eyes finally focus as he scans this man carefully. He had long, very long, dark brown hair, and beautiful tan skin. Freckles litter his face and hands, and his eyes are wide and staring, like a doll. He looks a lot like a doll, actually. He is wearing a ruffled white button up and simple black slacks, the clothes look modern enough for Nagito's time, though. "A, ah, good morning..." Nagito said, sheepishly as he say up, awkwardly rubbing his head, "I apologize for breaking in, I thought this place was abandoned a, and-" "No need to apologize. I know you had no ill intent," replied the man, "May I ask what your name is?" "Oh! I'm Nagito Komaeda, my house burnt down last week and I haven't had anywhere to go since then..." He answered. "I am Izuru Kamukura, I've lived alone here for many years," replied the other. Nagito's brows furrowed, glancing Izuru up and down. "Izuru? Like the one in the painting downstairs? That... Doesn't make much sense... How old are you?" The other chuckled softly, hiding his smile behind his hand, "My, my, you catch on quick. Yes, I am the same one in the painting downstairs, can you guess how old I am?" Komaeda glanced to the side, beginning to count in hundreds on his fingers before looking back to Izuru with wide eyes, "600 years? That can't be right." "Close, I am 559," answered the dark haired male, "You can figure out why if you think about what others have said about this place." "... You're a vampire? Like, an immortal one?" Kamukura nodded, "Yes, I am the last one of my coven. The rest have passed away due to hunting. I'm rather young for a vampire, however." Komaeda tilted his head to the side in astonishment, "Do you have fangs?" "Mhmm," he answered, his hand, polished with black on the nails, reaches up to pull back his top lip and show the other. His fangs were not particularly large, though he were rather sharp. Komaeda now realized that the tooth that poked out under Izuru's lip was he smiled was indeed a fang. "They poke out when you smile, huh?" Komaeda asked, and Izuru nodded. "Yes, it's a deformity. I'm far from the perfect example of a vampire, I've had trouble ingesting human blood since I was young, and I cannot hunt for myself, both are due to my coven's passing... May I touch you?" Though caught off by the request, the white haired boy nodded, and Izuru reached out to touch his hair. Manicured nails carded through Komaeda's fluffy and curly hair, his free hand settling on where Nagito shoulders met his neck. "How... How long have you been alone?" Nagito asked, leaning into the other's touch. "Junko Enoshima passed roughly 300 years ago, she was the last one of my coven," Izuru replied, "She had raised me with her wife, Mikan. She was devastated when Mikan was caught and killed. Mikan was the first, followed by Junko's sister, then my twin brother, and soon all of my cousins had passed. This house was a last attempt to shelter us, it was me and Junko, before they caught up to her too," Izuru explained, "I have been alone since, and have never left this house." "How many of you were there?" "Seventeen, they called us the Despair Coven." Nagito fell silent, glancing to the side, "... I'm so sorry." "No, it's okay, you're here now, and than makes things a whole lot better," he said with a smile, pulling his hands away from Nagito as the white haired boy immediately missed the weight of them. "Is there... Anything I can do to make up for breaking into your house and making you tell a son story?" Nagito said with a laugh, "I'm not good at much, but I can clean!" Izuru snickered, "Tell you what, if you can keep this place clean, you can live here as long as you'd like." Komaeda's eyes widened, "Really? Well then, it's a deal!"

Over the next year, Komaeda would've explored the whole house, the guest bedroom he once awoke in would be claimed as his as he dusted down every part of the house and removed all the sheets from the furniture. The only rooms he had never seen were Izuru's and Junko's. He knew where Izuru's was, but chose not to disturb him. As for Junko's, it was locked, the key was most likely kept somewhere clever, knowing Izuru, though also knowing how highly he spoke of Junko. She was clever, the ultimate analyst. It's how she survived so long in the first place, outsmarting hunters to keep herself and her son safe. The key was the least of Komaeda's problems, though. The real problem was that Izuru had started throwing up goat's blood nightly, the blood he had lived off of for 600 years. Komaeda held his hair back while he did it, listened to him vent his frustrations and eventually end up crying on Komaeda's shoulder, whispering something about missing Mikan or Junko, how they would know what to do. Izuru stopped eating all together, which was only causing more trouble than solving it. It was late at night when Izuru knocked on his door, and Komaeda said to come in. Izuru say down beside him on the bed, pulling the white haired boy into a hug. Komaeda didn't mind, Izuru did this when he got lonely, which wasn't very often, but still. "You're not looking too well, Izuru," Nagito said, leaning his head on the smaller one's shoulder. "I know," he answered, "I don't know what to do about it. I am hungry, but I cannot eat. It will not stay down." Komaeda fell silent as Izuru carefully pet his hair, his paling hands carefully and shakily combing through the other's hair. "Izuru, when was the last time you fed off of a human?" Nagito asked. Izuru stopped, brows furrowing as he tried to recount, "When I was 200 years old. I couldn't keep that down either, and that's when it was decided I was a defective vampire." "Have you thought about trying again?" Izuru nodded a no, "Are you suggesting I try on you?" Komaeda snickered a bit, nodding, "Yes, I don't like seeing you suffer, so I'll gladly offer myself up." Kamukura smiled, pulling Komaeda closer to his chest, "You are too kind, but I don't want to hurt you." "I have a high pain tolerance," Nagito countered, "You are very gentle anyway, I don't think you would." Kamukura fell silent, quietly rocking Komaeda in his arms. He was thinking. Nagito reached up seized one of Izuru's cold and shaking hands, holding it carefully against his chest. "I... I will try it, okay?" Izuru finally says, there is anxiety in his voice as he glances down at Nagito, "If I hurt you, though, you get to punch me." Nagito laughs, "I won't be doing that." Gently, Izuru sets Komaeda down on the bed beside him as Komaeda releases Izuru's hand, the sitting up. Izuru moved himself into Nagito's lap, cold hands drifting down Komaeda's neck as to find an appropriate spot. Komaeda shivers under the touch as Izuru's fingers stops at a certain spot. He backs away for a moment, wiping off his fangs with his button up sleeve before his worry sicken eyes meet Nagito's. "Are you sure you wanna go through? I can stop." "Don't be a baby, you're 600 years old, I said it's okay. I'm not scared." Izuru continues to look for a reason to stop, but eventually gives in. He takes a breath, then leaning in once more. It doesn't hurt when his teeth sink into Nagito's neck, as expected. They are sharp and full of precision, Izuru is careful as always. Had it not been for Izuru's breath and the fluttering of his lashes against his neck, Komaeda probably wouldn't of even noticed. A smile comes to Komaeda's face as his arm haphazardly wrapped around Izuru's waist. "You're good, you can keep going," Nagito says reassuringly. They remain silent for a few minutes before Izuru pulls away, there is blood dripping from his mouth as Nagito cleans it up with his thumb. The dizziness catches up with Komaeda, but he can work through it as he notices some of the color come back to Izuru's face. His doll like eyes are no longer dull and hollow, the life has returned to them. "You're staring," Izuru interrupts his train of thought. "You're pretty," Nagito replied with a smile. The dark haired one blushes, sitting back and pushing his long hair behind his ear. "I'm going to do something a little crazy, is that okay?" "Be my guest, is there really anything crazier than drinking my blood?" Izuru nodded a no with a smile, leaning in and pressing his lips against Nagito's, to which Nagito reciprocated instantly. It's kinda weird to taste your own blood on someone else's tongue.

#danganronpa #danganronpa nagito #danganronpa fanfiction #Nagito Komaeda #komaeda nagito #izuru kamukura #kamukura izuru #izuru x nagito #komaeda x izuru #komaeda x kamukura #kamukoma #fanfiction #writing #writer #writers #writblr

[afraschatz]

Leverage - The Studio Job

It feels like ages since I’ve done one of these, and I MISS MY SHOW, so I popped in a random DVD and whohoo it is “The Studio Job”. So here is a random amount of things that I love about this episode. I love...

... the sheer swagger of Hasselhoff err Schneider err Kirkwood. Not many people can pull off that leather jacket, dude

... the fact that Eliot is present during the initial client meeting. I’ve been wondering about this actually, I mean obviously it’s clear why Eliot is here because he clearly is the only one with a decent taste in music and whatnot (what violin? Hardison who?). But, like, does Nate have a diary on his desk where he pencils in potential clients and he hasn’t yet figured out that the team reads that thing and just “happens to show up” to meetings they think interesting? Is the entire team actually present for the inital “hello” and then just randomly decides “nah, not today, today’s client is harshing my vibe, I’d rather hang out with my horde”? How do these meetings come about? I NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS

... hahahaha, that music video is just the BEST THING. I kinda need a video like that with Eliot staring in it.

... Hardison dumping info like a boss. I know it’s common knowledge that Aldis Hodge was (in part) hired because of exactly that skill but seriously, he is SO good at it.

... “I don’t know how to play the fiddle” (Hardison probably does) and Hardison’s and Eliot’s reactions hahaha

... Kirkwood being a creepy douche. “But the computer...” - “Say it again.” Such a dick (and such a great little bit of characterisation)

... we are not talking about Hardison’s HORRIBLE outfit. Okay, maybe we are. We all know that Hardison has the best style of all of them (don’t fight me on this), so clearly the only explanation for this terribly mustard/brown combo is that he went to a thrift store and deliberately bought the most ridiculously 70s retro country shit he could find. Why? Well, to piss of Eliot, of course

... Nate wearing the white hat. Who are you trying to fool, mate? Oh, right. The mark.

... Parker’s dance theft. Hands down my favourite lift. Possibly ever. (Such a nice use of lazy sensual music there as well)

... Hardison’s clever strategy of responding to suspicion and anger by just mirroring that and instantly forming a bond of mutual pissed-off-ness

... Hardison’s condescension in reaction to the DJ’s super bad lie. Because lying is cool. But bad lying? That’s just offensive.

... Hot diggity dagum. Hahahaha, Hardison

... the notion that the entire time during that interlude Kirkwood is chewing Nate’s ear off

... Nate’s stutter - I love that he regularly uses these more obvious go-to-personas / tactics (like that stutter when he wants to come across as slightly gullible and not a threat) that aren’t that refined as those his team would chose. Why? Not because he can’t do any better. Just because he can’t be bothered. Ha, Nate, I love your casual arrogance

... sunglasses in that badly lit a club, Sophie? Really :)?

... Nate’s FACE the moment Kirkwood turns his back. You sexy, devious bastard. I love you.

... Parker and her refusal to buy into metaphors. Her sense of humour is just so - I mean OBVIOUSLY she gets it, like she gets every other metaphorical expression (“I didn’t even get to see the emerald!” anyone?). But yeah, I agree with you, it’s hilarious when the rest tries to be patient / loses their shit

... HELLO FIDDLE!

... that shot with Eliot and the blue and yellow lights

... Eliot being offended all over the place. Parker startled him! Parker was a kid!catburglar? (Dude, this is, what, the third season? How can that surprise you?) Eliot CAN sing!

... that little bit of maybe-stage-fright. And the fact that Parker is up there with him and her overacted astonishment. Which is a. seriously funny, and b. such a neat reaction because of course it pisses Eliot off, and a pissed off Eliot is not a nervous Eliot. I love these weird bits of their friendship

... Hardison following suit. - Darth Vader Eliot and Smurf Eliot. Parker’s genuine laughter. Oh God, could I love the friendship these three have any more? I think not. (And what’s the greatest thing? This isn’t even talked about, this isn’t even supposed to be the POINT of the scene. Other shows create entire episode’s, entire fucking seasons around moments like this one. Leverage? Just casually dishing it out. Because this show is perfection.)

... Hardison first comparing Eliot to Britney Spears, then calling him “baby”

...NATE poking fun at him for it

... Hardison being startled, not because of the “baby” bit obviously, but oops, there he was flirting with his best girl and his best guy and he might’ve forgotten that the coms were live

... HOW OLD ARE YOU, Nate :D

... “This must be the Southern charm I heard so much about”. Sophie, being brilliant with the “fuck you, you sleazebag” without the sleazebag actually noticing. I seriously love her throughout this episode. She has very little to do, but everything she does just reeks of that special brand of low-key arrogant professionalism and pride in her grifter skills. So much love for her.

... Nate’s sexy white hat profile!

... Eliot letting himself be seduced. Not gonna lie, there are plenty of his dates that I like better than the one in this ep, but this still is a great little scene. I really dig Eliot’s way with people (and it’s not just women; it’s people). Because he LISTENS.

... Sophie being a food snob. Again.

... Sophie’s outfit. The hair? The frigging jacket? So rad.

... Sophie’s way with Kirkwood compared to Nate’s earlier. See, this is the expert at playing people, the Shakespeare of grifters

... Eliot’s fucking voice

... Hardison’s little panic attack

... Nate’s FOCUS when he looks at Eliot. That’s not just because the con works. That is his super sharp shark focus of pride (which is totally an expression).

... seriously, Eliot’s voice. I need to dig out my old Kane CDs

... Eliot’s little smile at the end

... reward sex. You earned that, man.

... why do you take out your com? Everyone knows what you’re doing anyway. And now Nate has to beat up goons on his own. Jeez.

... “You two work out together” - hahaha, oh Nate

... “Forever 21, don’t hit me” - another seriously nice bit of interlacing the imminent danger of Nate potentially getting killed with teenage groupies. Not only is that little tidbit funny in its own right, it also tells us, before we even see it, that Nate’s all right. Eliot already knows, obviously, he has the ear bud back in and he is taking his sweet time to give that autograph and whatnot while definitely listening to Nate dealing with that problem. That is my version of how it went down and I’m sticking with it

... “Oh, ELIOT’s the fiddle” hahaha

... Parker’s outfit. Hardison’s COAT (btw, the way Parker and Hardison interact here? This is probably pretty close to how they must seem to the unsuspecting casual observer ALWAYS, just minus the outfit).

... “We was cool, we was vibin’”

... Eliot being chased, and all of this having such a retro Beatles vibe to it

... “Contrary to what you all believe, I do not control everything that happens on the internet”... five seconds later “Boom, fansite nuked”

... “I’m pretty certain a fatwa was issued!” - “You’re so vain, man.” (Because yes, Hardison. Eliot brags by telling people how many governments want him dead. That is absolutely how Eliot rolls.)

... “seriously, for breakfast?!” - I love you, Sophie

... Sophie’s superfast reactions and the joy of getting to slap Nate

... Parker’s traipsing and Hardison’s gangsta walk

... you know what is better than Hardison half naked in a recording studio? Hardison, half naking in a recording studio, yanking Eliot’s chain.

... Parker’s scale of what is weird being VERY different than anyone else’s

... “This is not from an iceberg”

... Hardison moving with Eliot’s music, then interrupting him, THEN cutting off communications :)

... niiice little bit of storytelling-by-superzoom, and Parker solving the case while Hardison and Eliot are just mucking around

... Ribs, Ribs, More Ribs

... “The guy who’s buying our fiddle? He thinks he IS the fiddle.”

... Locked off comedy frame - my favourite ever, actually. SO many great OT3 scenes in this episode

... beating goons up with a mic stand AND drumsticks

... black-hat-Nate (now, doesn’t that look more right?) impersonating Hannibal Smith

... nice shot of the four of them in the hotel

... a conveniently parked random motorbike

... Eliot err Kenneth Crane t-shirts

... Kirkwood lip-syncing

... a groupie flashmob

... Parker on stage. Because this is important. For the con. For Eliot.

... Eliot once again proving that he is a great actor (second best on the team) in that staged conversation with Kirkwood

... a conveniently placed cow-hide

... Eliot and Nate doing the gloat together.

... Nate’s black hat, toothpick combo (he is really loving this week’s outfit theme, isn’t he?)

... Eliot’s little laugh at the proposal of being one half of the next Johnny and June. I love that because it’s both sweet and kinda flattered as well as absolutely-not- are-you-kidding-me- as-that-could-tempt-me-away- from-the-sweet-gig-I-already-got

... that little beat, again with just Nate and Eliot. God, I love their friendship sosososo much. I should write a 5k essay about it. And by essay I mean ode.

... that way that Nate is not looking people in the eye when he wants to give them a bit of privacy. Or when he wants some himself

... “Notes on my performance” - “How were you?” - “No complaints” - And Eliot’s and Sophie’s relationship? SO different. Equally awesome.

... I also what to know what time it is, Eliot.

 Perfect episode. Perfect show.

#leverage #eliot spencer #alec hardison #nate ford #sophie deveraux #parker #episode reaction #things I love about #the studio job

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Five Minutes with Tony

You surveyed your appearance in the mirror. For a change, your hair had done what you’d wanted it to. Your make-up was about as close to perfect as you were capable of managing on your own, and your little black dress was killer. You looked good. Better than good, you thought. You took a step back and cocked your head to one side and nodded. Yeah. Although on most days you couldn’t stomach what looked back from the mirror at you, tonight? Tonight you were the best version of you available.

You heard a soft knock on the door and knew it was either Nat or Steve come to meet up with you. You opened the door and looked up, entirely surprised to see Tony.

“Hey?” You smiled. Your kept your cards pretty close over the weeks since joining the payroll of the Avengers, but you couldn’t help the surge of delight over seeing Tony standing on the other side of the threshold in a tux. “You look mighty dapper, Mr. Stark.”

“I keep telling you, it’s Tony,” he laughed and offered an arm. “You look stunning, as usual, Y/N.” You laughed and shook your head.

“Tony, right. Sorry, sometimes this still doesn’t quite feel real to me,” you admitted. “And thank you. For once I think I’ll agree.”

“You’re always so hard on yourself,” he commented as you stepped into the elevator. “Why do you do that?”

You felt the burn of embarrassment under your skin and looked at the floor before looking up at him. His dark eyes were full of concern and wonder, which unsettled you a little. “I’m not exactly what you’d call a conventionally attractive woman, Tony.”

“You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen,” he argued. 

“I have this theory about that. You’re a genius. So you’re seeing more than the average person. You’re seeing who I am in concert with what I look like -”

“You’re not wrong. I do see the whole picture. But Y/N, I don’t get it. You’re so confident about everything else. You destroyed your job interview, made the other candidates look like chump change. You know your value. But you can’t see that you actually are the entire package. You’re beautiful and smart, and kind, and remarkable,” he interrupted, taking your hand and squeezing it. You felt a sting of tears at the corner of your eyes, and quickly blinked.

“Tonight, Tony, I actually believe it,” you smiled. “But it’s taken me a long time to get there. And if I’m totally honest, tomorrow, I might not see it again, but tonight I did. So that’s a start.”

“I need you to say it to me again, in your own words,” he demanded, the smile he gave you wrinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“I am clever, intelligent, witty, kind, and remarkable. And I come in some very appealing packaging,” you laughed. “Good enough?”

“Perfect,” he nodded. “Let’s go.” The elevator opened and he offered his elbow again to escort you out into the lavish party.

XxX

Natasha had found you and quickly proclaimed you stunning, with a quick kiss to either cheek and Steve even managed to muddle through a compelling compliment before Bucky slapped him on the back and winked at you.

“You’re a fine looking dame, Y/N/N,” he smiled. You laughed and leaned over to give him a hug.

“Thanks, Buck,” you grinned. “I must be wearing my confidence well tonight, you’re all commenting on it.”

“Well, you clean up pretty good, Y/N,” Steve finally found his voice again to comment. “This is a lot different than the lab coat and blue jeans we’re used to.”

“Come on, sweetheart, dance with me,” Bucky insisted, as the band started playing a song from his era. He led you out onto the dance floor and pulled you into his arms. As the song ended, Tony cut in and slipped his hand around you, resting it on your back.

“You’re having fun?” He asked, his cheek close to yours. 

“I am. I didn’t think I would, but I really am,” you admitted. He turned his head to look at you and smiled. It was soft, and indulgent, and he pulled you just a little closer as he looked at you. His eyes flicked down to your lips and then, he pressed a soft kiss against your mouth.

“I think I’d really like to take you for brunch tomorrow, if that’s okay?” He asked. You nodded.

“I’d like that,” you agreed. The song ended and he led you off the dance floor and over to the bar. As you waited for your drink, you felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned around and were astonished to see your ex, Jeremy, smiling in surprise.

“Y/N! I thought that was you on the dance floor, but didn’t think it could be,” he exclaimed. “God, honey, you look incredible. You don’t look a bit different. How long has it been?”

A quick mental calculation made you cringe inwardly before you answered. “Has to be fifteen years, Jem,” you admitted, his nickname feeling natural and strange on your tongue at the same time.

“You don’t look a day older. Still good old Y/N,” he smiled. You noticed his eyes flicked down to your hand and he smiled again. “Not married yet?” 

You felt a flare of embarrassment, followed quickly by anger. You’d split because Jeremy didn’t want to settle down, and you’d thought you did. He’d said during the break-up that if he did settle down, it wouldn’t be with someone like you. It had cut to the quick, at the time. He didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t fit the conventionally beautiful mold, and your hips were just too broad to make you a conventional beauty.

“I’ve been focussed on my career,” you admitted. You took in his appearance, and had to admit, he hadn’t aged well. Gone was the handsome young man who had seduced you with his ready smiles and broad shoulders, and in his place was an older man, balding with a bad combover. He wore the extra weight on his frame poorly, hiding it with a badly tailored suit. If you didn’t look any different, by comparison he was only a shadow of his former self. And he’d never been the full package, either. He’d always resented that you’d been more clever and successful when you’d been in university together.

“Well, what else is there for you, really?” He asked. “Don’t get me wrong, you haven’t aged a day, but men don’t want career-driven women they can’t show off on their arms -”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Tony turned around, his eyes narrowed. You felt like Jeremy had slapped you across the face, and were looking for an exit frantically. Tony’s hand on your back stilled you.

“Jeremy Devonson, CEO of DWI Robotics,” Jeremy introduced, offering his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m sure it is,” Tony replied, raising an eyebrow and ignoring the proffered hand. He pushed away from the bar, holding your drink out to you. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to introduce Y/N to the Secretary of State. She’s developed a new robotics protocol that Madam Secretary had expressed some interest in.”

“Oh, I -”

“Brilliant and beautiful, Devonson,” Tony cut him off. “You were an idiot to let her get away.” You followed Tony away from the bar, stopping just for a second to look back at Jeremy.

“For the record, Jem,” you started. “I am so much better off without you. So thank you. Thank you for being so superficial that I was able to discover my real value.”

As you walked away, Tony leaned over and pressed a kiss against your cheek. “I forgot to mention sassy and sexy, do you think I need to go back and remind him?”

“No,” you laughed.

“Can I revise that date request to maybe waking you up with breakfast in bed? Because I’m unnaturally turned on right now,” he teased.

[itslulu42]

Asphyxiation

The last of my LJ fics from 2009 that I’m finally posting here because it is seasonally appropriate.

I wrote it when I was out of my mind on cold medication and people really liked it. I guess that says something about my writing.  XD  The final version is almost identical to the rough draft in my notebook.

Banner for my nostalgia and because I gotta delete that LJ soon.  :D  

Story behind the cut for you lovelies. 

The thing that Sakura despised the most about the war was the smell; it was a putrid, clinging stench that was unique unto itself. Elemental jutsu would leave behind the acrid scent of ash and iron, odors that burned at her nose and lungs. War was dead bodies in various stages of decay that reached forth with ghostly arms to choke her and the taste of wasted energy on her tongue.

When Sakura first arrived, she had expected the horrific injuries; she had anticipated the exhaustion that would wear at her body and mind. She hadn’t anticipated the smell, one that would inundate her mind, cling to her skin, and taint the flavor of her bland food. Her only saving grace was that Suna had developed a seal to keep the fetid smell out of the tents.

Sakura cursed Iwa and Naruto’s steadfast dedication to Gaara. If they hadn’t been such close allies she wouldn’t be here at all. Suna was in no shape to fight Iwa; most of the jounin were still young and lacked the experience. As such, Naruto had sent over several squads over and they were doing their best to bring the battle to a swift end. But Iwa’s experience was making it difficult to gain any advantage and as the weeks passed, Sakura was having a difficult time seeing an end in sight.

The four months made her feel as if she had aged twenty; it was full of sleepless nights and ripped bleeding flesh. Her body was constantly tense, waiting for another crack of rock breaking or the horn that was the sign of Iwa’s advance. Sakura had at some point developed a tick in her right eye and every glimpse in the mirror made her more unrecognizable. Soon Sai’s nickname for her was going to be more truth than a lie. It was just another thought added to her heavy heart.

Sakura thought she was over such vain trivialities.

The horn outside Sakura’s tent blared and she knew that the latest advance had retreated. She grabbed the scrap of cloth she used as a mask and wrapped it around her nose and mouth. Once in place, Sakura exited her tent and made her way across the compound. The smell was still there, filling her mouth and throat. She stopped to gag, huffing through her mouth until her body adjusted to the exposure. Her eye gave another tick as some of the sand cracked underneath her feet.  She waved at the dirty ninja returning from the battle.  

“Injured?” Sakura asked them.

“None,” replied a Sand Ninja, a man she knew by sight alone.

“What?”  Sakura’s widened in surprise.  Iwa was full of ruthless fighters and the injuries they caused were many and severe. Most ninjas were put on rotation so they could recover from their injuries, Sakura being one of the few who had been present the entire time.  

The ninja shrugged. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Both sides are on a truce for twelve hours.”

“You don’t actually believe them, do you?” Sakura asked. “They’re hoping you become drunk so everyone is vulnerable.”

But the men continued without a word, making their way to the tent that contained the jars of desperately made alcohol from random bits of rations.

Annoyed, she walked to the captain’s tent, determined to give him a piece of her mind. What sort of hair-brained leader was he?

“Kakashi?” Sakura came to a halt once she recognized the back of his scruffy head.

He raised a gloved hand, his back to her as he stood up from his chair.  “I thought you were stationed here.”

“Did you make that announcement about the truce? And where is the captain? You know that is only going to make the men drink and become careless.” Her eye gave another twitch as she removed her mask and placed it on a table.

“Well, I hardly think that—damn."  Kakashi had turned around mid-sentence.

“What?”

"Er...nothing,” Kakashi replied in an unconvincing tone.

“What?”

“Ahh…” He cleared his throat. “You've changed a bit.”

“I haven’t changed that much,” Sakura retorted as he approached her. Kakashi raised his hand to pluck at her hair. “What are you doing? Stop it, Kakashi!”

“It’s grey,” he replied in astonishment as he peered at the strand between his fingers.  “And your eye has been twitching since you walked in.”

Sakura pressed her lips together in displeasure. Part of her wanted to rage in anger because Kakashi was so inconsiderate, but she couldn’t muster the energy. He stared at her. She stared back.

“Huh…Every five minutes your eye gives a little tick.” Kakashi leaned forward to peer at her closer. “It’s like you can tell time by it.”

“You’re so rude,” replied Sakura as she crossed her arms.

“The war hasn’t been kind to you.” Kakashi made his way over to the table and patted it invitation as he sat upon it.  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.  The war isn’t kind on anyone.  You’ve changed and it caught me by surprise.”

Sakura shuffled over and sat down next to him. She wiped at a crusty orange stain on her uniform as she gathered her thoughts.  “It’s the waiting that gets to me, those moments after the advance and I have to wait for the injured to start coming. And then when they do arrive, I don’t quite know where to start.”  She stared at her feet, noting that the soles were beginning to fall apart again.

Sakura saw Kakashi’s s boots from the corner of her eye and marveled that they weren’t covered in mud or blood. She could feel the familiarity of his presence returning to her, that longing that had seized her body every time he had passed her in the street. And that was only when she looked at his boots.

Kakashi hummed. “I’m sure the grey will fade away when you get home.”

“I hope,” she confessed. It was only a few strands, but that was already too much. “So are you certain the truce will hold?”

“I’m hoping Iwa goes back on their word. Otherwise, all of the traps I set up on the field and the fresh wave of troops waiting for them would have been for nothing.”  

Sakura felt her eye tremble as she sighed in relief. Of course, there was more to the plan.

Kakashi looked at the clock. “The next time your eye twitches, it will be a new year.”

“Shut up, Kakashi.” She raised one hand to rub at the furrow that has formed in her brow and her nose caught a whiff of the disinfectant she has been using the past few months. It had crept into every crevice of her hands to dry it out and peel away her skin. Kakashi was stationed at another location of the front, but he looked the same. In the village he was considered aloof and taciturn, some believed him unfeeling. But in a shabby tent out in the battlefield he looked like a pantheon of confidence and stability. It was unfair that Kakashi grew more virtuous in a war and she deteriorated like a poorly made toy.

Kakashi’s head was turned to the side and his headband was blocking his view of her. Sakura’s eye twitched once more and her renewed adoration burned in her lungs and heart. She leaned forward to tug down his mask and kissed him. It was an awkward thing, his head was in the process of turning and their teeth collide together and she has caught part of his top lip but none of his bottom. She tried to redeem herself by readjusting but he pulled back and the moment was over.

Astonishment was etched all over his face. “You kissed me.”

The corners of Sakura’s mouth tucked into another frown and she wonders if she will smile before she forgets how to do so.  “I know that.”

“Why?”

Sakura turned away and shuffled back to her spot by the table. “It’s the New Year. I thought that it would be clever and kind of sexy or something.” Normally, she would be plotting her escape from shame by now, but she’s too weary to put forth the effort.

“Well, it wasn’t. It was terrible.”

“I know.” She tried to smile, but all that she can make is a painful grimace, her cheeks aching with the effort. “I could try again.”

Kakashi shook his head. “I don’t recommend that.”

“Oh.”  She stared at her hands in her lap. It was just as well, one only gets a single chance at a New Year’s kiss anyway. Sakura’s embarrassment caused her lungs to burn again even though she is the safety of the tent. Kakashi had the worst possible reaction, short of posting an international flyer on how much he hated her. She sat next to him in an uncomfortable silence.  

Sakura stayed because dying of embarrassment next to him was better than being alone with a tent and a drink.

So deep in her thoughts, Sakura failed to notice Kakashi move closer. But she caught a whiff of his smell, the scent of ozone and cleanliness. There was a brief glimpse of the stubble around his mouth before his lips pressed against hers. He tongue swooped in as she opened her mouth in shock. Kakashi’s hands tangled in her hair as he stole her breathe away.

The horn outside the tent blared, and Sakura knew Iwa had fallen into Kakashi’s trap. He pulled away from her, a mischievous smile on his lips that caused her heart to stutter. Sakura felt the pressure inside of her slacken as he spoke.

“Happy Monday.”

#kakasaku #my fanfiction

[imagine-fight-write]

RANDOM - BANANA FISH DISCUSSION - I’M SO VAGUE

Hello, Everyone!

No excuse for this being late, it just is.

Note: This is just me rambling about a certain subject in relation to Banana Fish which is totally vague (but that’s probably all in my head.)

If you’re enjoying my Banana Fish Review series, Vol. 1: Part 3 will be up either later today or Saturday!

Unless Time sabotages me again. They might.

* I like to think of Time as having a female persona. What do you think?

Anyway . . . 

This one is more in-depth musings about a certain subject & character, rather than analysis of a scene. It’s deeply vague & confusing (probably because I’m thinking too deep about it. But I don’t care. It’s fun to theorize.) If you want to continue reading delightful gushing about scenes & characters in Banana Fish in chronological order (mostly), please check out Part 3 of my Banana Fish review.

Determining Ash’s sexuality is marvelously tricky. *Also Eiji’s, now I think of it. 

So far as I know, Eiji hasn’t have any / very little romantic or sexual experience (or is he simply shy? Who knows?). Thus, he can’t know who he likes & neither can the reader (for certain.) His attraction to Ash is vague enough that valid arguments can be made for anything from friends to soul mates to lovers. Isn’t it wonderfully maddening?

Otaku, She Wrote has a great article about this, here:

https://otakushewrote.wordpress.com/2018/06/22/more-than-friends-more-than-lovers-exploring-ash-and-eijis-love/

I think readers tend to gravitate towards lovers because there’s this nasty, prevalent idea that romantic relationships are somehow more & deeper & better & closer than friendship (which I hate & I will fight people over.) To be clear: If you like the idea of Ash & Eiji being a couple, that’s valid. 

It makes sense.

If you like to go with the easy route of saying Ash clearly likes Eiji, therefore he’s gay, I salute you for your acceptance of obvious things.

(This is so cute. I love animal motifs!)

I personally can’t view it that simply, due to both Ash’s extremely traumatic past & the world he grows up in.

However, if you take that (saying Ash is gay) & dismiss or look down on those who like to think as Ash & Eiji as soul mates or friends, 

I will fight you.

And if you take Ash & Eiji as friends & dismiss those who like them being a couple, I will also fight you.

Because this is a story about fictional characters, people have multiple different experiences which color their perspective of it, so in a very real sense no one is wrong . . . Unless they have no concrete proof from the text to back them up. Or author.

I mean, you could argue Ash is secretly a ware-lynx, & that’s why he’s so strong & clever, but why would you? There’s no evidence in the story. Anyway.

Before I begin: An Important Note.

I was attempting to look up Ash’s step-mother’s name (& couldn’t find it, I’ll have to check my manga) & I found 2 fascinating reddit threads, who’s subjects I will add to later:

https://www.reddit.com/r/BananaFish/comments/9efv87/while_watching_banana_fish_with_my_father_he/

(2nd 1 contains minor spoilers, if you don’t know who Blanca is, don’t read)

https://www.reddit.com/r/BananaFish/comments/a2s0cj/yoshida_interview_on_why_she_decided_not_to_have/

The important part about the 2nd article is that the author states something which I agree with, which is 

“Editor: "Certainly, Ash isn't active when it comes to sex."

Yoshida: "I think that's because Ash's character is sick of sex. He's been hurt over and over by sex... he's sick of it and he doesn't feel the need to have it. He's devoted his life to it, and he's had enough of it.”

Which appears to validate my idea that Ash is willfully asexual. He could easily be aromantic and / or have romantic or sexual desire for Eiji, sure (or other people. 1 person in the above link supposes Ash might be bi, which isn’t something I considered, but is certainly possible.)

Regardless, it’s clear that, whatever relationship or desire Ash might have for someone, Ash certainly dislikes / wouldn’t have sex with them.

I personally see them as friends/soul mates. To be specific, Ash firmly keeps himself asexual (key word, keeps) to such a degree it’s impossible to know if he’d actually be asexual or not if he’d had a normal life. It is simply impossible to know, and it’s tragic. Note, I’m not saying Ash is asexual, but that he actively tries to be. Yes, he flirts & acts sexy & kisses people. Except these are all acts a person can do & yet not feel any real desire or want to do them. I realize that sounds confusing, but it’s true. Some femme fatales do this all the time.

And as Otaku, She Wrote said, Ash is a combination of Femme Fatale & Rambo.

The manga also makes it clear, more than once, that Ash uses such moves as weapons or tools to get people to either drop their guard or convey a message as part of a plan.

He can do this & yet not feel any actual sexual desire. Also, I do want to stress, the idea that trauma will make a person asexual is wrong. Wrong. Yes, trauma can make people hesitant to start or continue a sexual relationship, or any close relationship at all, with other people. But. It won’t change if they feel sexual desire for someone else or not. So is Ash asexual? Who knows. I’ll explore this & my reasons more a little later.

First, I want to point out Eiji is probably asexual, given that he’s almost 20 & never had a romantic relationship (that I know of, up to vol. 10 of the manga.) However, he could be the type to slowly develop feelings for someone overtime. Eiji strikes me as rather shy & lonely - he hasn’t talked about anyone specific in Japan except his sister, so far as I’ve read. Or they could both be “once in a lifetime” types, which could be true for both being best friends / soul mates or a couple. As I said, from what I’ve read so far, it’s all vague enough you could argue in a lot of different ways about their relationship. (I love it.)

Now, my logic for why Ash is asexual. Ach, this section is grim & terrible & sad.

First, due to his past, it’s highly unlikely Ash can view any gay man in a positive light (or any man at all, really, his relationship with Max & Ibe is SO important & in many ways, a complete miracle).

(Ash teasing Max never gets old.)

Considering it’s also the 1980’s, there’s also a definite air of “gay men are bad” which Ash would pick up on (and has, I think.)(Even if he were gay.) Note, Dino Golzine is clearly a pedophile. Whether he considers himself gay is up for debate (so far as I know.) And unless he considers himself gay, or it’s otherwise stated, he’s not gay, but a pedophile. 

To explain: I have yet to know of any evidence that he sleeps with any men in a consensual relationship (which would mean he’s gay.) Only young men & boys, all considerably younger than him, and for various reasons, clearly not with him by choice.

* IN FACT, I have yet to know of Dino Golzine sleeping with ANYONE consensually (Have I mentioned I hate this man? Because I do.) Brrr. I told you this is all painful. Here is an adorable kitten.

Anyway, also related to Ash’s trauma, it’s unlikely Ash can easily accept any sexual or romantic relationships as good or enjoyable. He clearly views close contact as dangerous.

 As I said, the manga makes it clear on more than 1 occasion that Ash clearly uses his sex appeal & romantic gestures, such as kissing, as tools in his arsenal of weapons, divorced from his emotions, wants, or desires (mostly.) This isn’t to say he couldn’t be aromantic. 

I mean, Ash did have a crush on a girl when he was 14. That’s got to count for something, surely, given the environment he was living in.

*I mention this because someone reminded this of me in that 2nd reddit link I put above, & they immeaditly dismissed it!

Um, hello? Crushes are sexual desire 101.

Of course, regardless of if he’s asexual or not, he could still care about his friends as deeply as he does. Remember, asexuality is about sexual desire, not emotions in general. You can love someone & not have sexual desire for them. People do this all the time with family & friends.

All of Ash’s tender scenes with Eiji? (that I’ve seen up to Vol. 10) I’ve had a bunch of similar heart to hearts with close friends over the years, & I’m super protective about my friends. But I still don’t have sexual desire for any of them. They’re my friends.

Friendship is so hard to define, isn’t it?

(I looked up friendship gifs & found this. Precious.)

On a related note, I have no doubt Ash has had a bunch of self loathing & hatred over his good looks (can you really blame him? Because a lot of people like to blame his good looks as the reason why they attack him. Which is so gross I have no words.) (Victim Blaming 101) And clearly Ash would take any tender or protective emotions he might have for another boy (or anyone) as something twisted, wrong, & dangerous. 

(Again, given his past, can you really blame him?) Because I can’t think of any gay men, or anyone really, who’s been a good role model & decent human being, who is a grown man, except maybe the cops, but there’s a whole level of complexity there with Ash being a gang leader & linked to Dino Golzine that I don’t feel like getting into 

(unless you want me to in another post!)

And yet Ash does care, deeply. I’m so glad he has friends in his various gang members & Shorter. They’re so important. He even has great moments with Max

(which is such a miracle, I’m going to cry if I think about it too hard. After being raised by a man like Dino & their twisted relationship, it’s astonishing Ash can trust any grown-up man, ever.)

Anyway, moving to a slightly different topic, consider that Banana Fish is clearly a world of men, and boys. Women and girls are few & far between (the main ones are great, but still few.)

(I can’t wait until we get to the part of Ash is disguised as a nurse, because I still don’t know what that’s about & I love it already.)

Anyway. Moving on.

Theory: Ash doesn’t view women as sexual cos that’s not the world he grew up in.

(Pictured Above: Not a lady)

Correction: Ash does mock the obi-gyn’s secretary with some pretty crude language. (which I will not forget & he needs to apologize for & never do again.)

Clearly he’s picked up on the disgusting idea of women as being 2nd class to men & also their value tied to their sexuality.

(Gee, I wonder who knows how that feels.)

However, far as we know, Ash has never slept with a woman (or girl.) Ash has never been sexually assaulted by a woman or girl.

Well, apart from those nurses. but that’s a long ways away in my reviews. 

I will not forget!

Also, considering all his sexual encounters have been with men, and I must stress, grown-up men (again, so far as we know), it makes sense to me that Ash wouldn’t have any interest in women the way most men do.

I’m not saying he wouldn’t find them attractive or react to a nude photo - of course he would (unless he’s actually gay or asexual & has no sexual desire for women, or anyone at all.) However, even if he’s straight, I still don’t think he’d automatically think of women as being sexual / desire them in the way most men /boys would. Most women exist in a world apart from his. The most Ash does is talk to the secretary. He barely interacts with Jessica (that I remember, just wait til we get to that part) or his step-mom. I don’t think he even interacts with Shorter’s sister.

Yes, Dino Golzine asks if Ash has a girlfriend, but it’s done in almost jest, and Ash’s reaction makes it clear he has no interest in one. Again, because he has no personal experience of women as sexual beings (that we know of) it’s doubtful he’d easily think of them as such, despite his words to the secretary. He only knows men have sex with women because men talk about it, & there’s pictures & magazines. Again, this is difficult because there’s so few women in Banana Fish it’s hard to tell. So this is just a theory.

To sum, personally I think Ash might be asexual. Most likely, aromantic.

But again, given the complexity of Ash’s life, it’s really hard to tell. Yes, he kisses a boy at some point. But it was a cold blooded kiss, meant to pass along a secret message. It was part of a plan.

Ash never mentions this kiss again (far as I know, up to vol. 10 of the manga) and he freaks out ( is afraid & embarrassed) at a joke  about wanting to view his public hair.

Again, is that due to his past of being abused, or is he simply asexual? Who knows. (The author knows, I’m sure.)

#random #banana fish #discussion #asexuality #think about it #fictional character #manga #ash lynx #eiji

[alexsfictionaddiction]

'It is not enough to be the non-racist. We must be anti-racist.’

I don’t think I need to explain too much about what has prompted this post. There may be readers of it who will feel that my sudden creation of it is performative and that I don’t REALLY care all that much about what’s going on. That I’m simply jumping on a bandwagon and cashing in on some internet clout amidst the horrors of what is happening in the world. Hopefully my regular readers will know that I actively seek out Own Voices books and that I’m constantly reviewing them or recommending them on this very blog. Hopefully my regular readers will know that this post is very much in line with my inclusive, diverse ethos and that I am simply using my white platform to amplify those of the unheard.

It’s true that I’ve never written a recommendation post dedicated to one particular marginalised group. I think this is because I’ve always felt like these are not my areas to sway into. That these posts would be better written by bloggers who have direct experience with what these books talk about. Honestly, I’m shocked and incredibly upset with myself for having long harboured this mentality. Yes, these books will affect readers who can directly relate to the characters in a way that they couldn’t ever affect me but why on Earth should that mean that I can’t give them a platform in the first place?  

Of course, I’ve always known about white privilege and I’ve always used it to take down racists both on and offline. In fact, the events of the past few days have caused arguments within my own all-white British family. There are currently protests happening in central London and Manchester but we are not allowed to use public transport at the moment and we don’t have any local demonstrations, meaning actively protesting just isn’t a feasible option for most Brits right now. It does feel like movements such as Black Lives Matter are ‘an American thing’, despite the huge amount of all types of racism in the UK. 

I had never realised (or perhaps never wanted to realise) the amount of extremely questionable attitudes within my own family until very recently. I have had to explain white privilege to my parents, who have actually always been reasonably liberal in their political views, so I was astonished by exactly how much they didn’t know. There is an essence of ‘things aren’t anywhere near as bad as they used to be’ and ‘the police don’t arrest or kill innocent people’. It’s honestly only in the last few days that I’ve realised and therefore had to address the internal racism within my own family and therefore in my own origins and so I think that, as well as what is happening across the Atlantic, is what has really triggered this post. Despite considering myself an ally, I can do so much better than I have been and chances are, you can too. 

Because it is a global pandemic. It’s not something that is only happening in the US, it’s happening here just without the guns. It’s happening in every country of the world and I (and my fellow white people) should not be leaving it up to the victims to sort it out. We have the power to boost their blatantly unheard voices and there is so much we can do, in order to do that. 

Sign petitions, donate money and help in any way you can right here. Buy from Black-owned businesses, read all you can about the Black experience and above all, call out your friends and family on their racism. Of course, if you don’t want to take the advice of a white person like me, I’d recommend you check out these fantastic Black BookTubers and book bloggers:

LaRonda @ flyingpaperbacks

Madeline @ madelinewilsonojo

Jazmen @ lit-erally black

Nox @ noxthereader

Myonna @ myonna reads

I'mogén @ Peace&Cookies

Ben @ Benreadsbooks

Lauren @ The Novel Lush

Jo @ Jo The Great

Ella @ ella’s novellas

Keeana @ Reading in the Clouds

Francina @ Francina Simone

Lucie @ LucieReads

Jesse @ Bowties & Books

Joel @ fictionalfates

Ane @ Ane Adores

Olivia @ Olivia’s Catastrophe

Cecilia @ thatdisneychik

Taylor @ PageScreenTaylor

Tori @ Medusa Reads

Justin @ Ghost Reader

Seji @ The Artisan Geek

Mina @ Mina Reads

Of course, this is not an exhaustive list and I encourage you to please search for and support more wonderful Black bookworms and creators. They will give you more insightful reviews and recommendations than I would ever be able to, so please check them out and show them some love. 

Here are 50 books by Black authors that deserve your attention. While I have read a good chunk of these, I will admit that I have not personally read all of them. This list was compiled following a deep scouring of the internet and reading countless reviews and synopses. I believe I’ve found some incredible hidden gems in here that you will love and pass on to those who need them. Each of them have a link to an online retail outlet that isn’t Amazon, so you can buy these books in quarantine without lining Bezos’ already over-filled pockets. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

NON-FICTION

1. Stamped From The Beginning by Ibram X. Kendi. This history of racism in America seeks to completely rewrite the way we think of racism and encourages change in the every-day assumptive white ally.

2. Between The World And Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. Told in the form of a letter to his young son, Coates attempts to convey what it’s like to be black in America, using history, personal experience and the hope of liberation.

3. Redefining Realness by Janet Mock. An unapologetic powerful memoir from a trans mixed-race working class woman in America that will teach you how to be undeniably real.

4. Why I’m No Longer Talking To White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge. Possibly the most widely-read non-fiction book on racism in the UK, Reni Eddo-Lodge’s book explores its links to class, white feminism and the black history we were never taught.

5. So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo. Highly relevant to the current situation in the US, this book talks about police brutality, BLM and the N word, answering the questions that no one ever dares to ask.

CONTEMPORARY FICTION

6. An American Marriage by Tayari Jones. The winner of last year’s Women’s Prize, An American Marriage is the heartbreaking story of newlyweds torn apart by a wrongful rape conviction. Devastating, urgent storytelling.

7. Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams. Searingly relatable and timely, you will fall madly in love with Queenie. She is flawed, overlooked and underestimated. You will laugh, cry and scream as you spend a year inside her life as a British-Jamaican.

8. Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert. When straight-laced nerd Chloe Brown almost dies, she vows to start living in the moment. Enter bad boy Red and you’ve got the perfect ingredients for a sweet, sexy rom-com.

9. Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo. Joint winner of 2019′s Booker Prize and shortlister for 2020′s Women’s Prize, this is the combination of 12 very different Black-British characters that paints a very real picture of contemporary British life.

10. I Almost Forgot About You by Terry McMillan. When Georgia Young begins to feel dissatisfied with her seemingly perfect life, she decides to shake things up. It’s the perfect reminder that it’s never too late to make big changes and start living your best life.

11. Well-Read Black Girl by Glory Edim. Showcasing some of America’s best black female writers, this anthology explores the importance of finding yourself in books. Glory Edim is the founder of Well-Read Black Girl, an online book club exclusively for black women, which you can check out here.  

12. The Girl With The Louding Voice by Abi Daré. At 14, Adunni is a wife and commodity within her tiny Nigerian village but she is determined to get her education and her voice. Original, powerful and unbelievably inspirational.

13. Such A Fun Age by Kiley Reid. When Emira Tucker starts dating someone with a direct historical link to her boss, things get more than complicated. This is a very clever contemporary, driven by racial differences, that is completely unputdownable.

LITERARY FICTION

14. The Sellout by Paul Beatty. Winner of the Booker Prize 2016, The Sellout is a black comedy ringing with social satire about one man’s deceit having knock-on effects for an entire community. Controversial and weird but incredibly unique.

15. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Morrison’s debut novel focuses on our obsession with conventional beauty, fitting in and being accepted. Wonderfully written, it addresses race, gender and class in a truly captivating way.

16. Stay With Me by Ayòbámi Adébáyò. Amidst the social and political turmoil of 1980s Nigeria, Yejide's husband takes a second wife when she fails to fall pregnant. It is a heartbreaking portrait of grief, fractured families and motherhood.

17. Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward. An epic road-trip novel with hints of supernatural and magical realism, this is the story of a young boy’s coming-of-age within a broken family told in a gorgeously lyrical style.

18. Half Of A Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Set during the Nigerian Civil War, three very different characters are entwined in a story about colonialism, class, race and love. You’ll want the tissues for this one!

19. Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi. This strange unique novel focuses on the split selves of Ada and their gradual rise to power within her. It’s one of the most unique mental health books I’ve ever come across and will resonate with anyone who has ever struggled with finding their own inner peace.

SCI-FI AND FANTASY

20. Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James. Dripping in African mythology, the first in the Dark Star trilogy gets off to a gripping start with plenty of unique characters, as hunter Tracker searches for a missing boy. 

21. Kindred by Octavia E. Butler. When aspiring writer Dana is pulled from 1976 into 1815, she is assumed to be a slave. After saving a young man’s life, the mystery of their connection kicks off and takes them both on an incredible emotional journey. This is an amazing time travel story that is thoroughly unputdownable.

22. Rosewater by Tade Thompson. Rosewater is a town on the edges of a strange alien biodome which is rumoured to have healing powers but former criminal Kaaro knows the truth and is in no hurry to revisit it. Whilst making subtle digs at contemporary culture, Rosewater offers a fascinating view of the future.

23. Do You Dream Of Terra-Two? by Temi Oh. Ten astronauts leave a dying Earth to find another habitable planet. Set entirely aboard the ship, it’s a coming-of-age story that reaches beyond the sci-fi boundaries and focuses on human relationships and emotions. Brace yourself for tears!

24. Children Of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi. Inspired by West African mythology, this magical adventure tells the story of Zélie on a quest to restore magic to the kingdom of Orisha. At the end of every chapter something happens that makes you want to keep reading, making it highly addictive.

25. The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor Lavalle. Hidden dark magic in the depths of New York is awakened when hustler Tom attracts its attention. With elements of classic horror and mysticism, this is one for lovers of weird speculative stories.

26. Riot Baby by Tochi Onyebuchi. This touching story is a searing reminder of systemic racism and the violence that black Americans face at the hands of the law. When Kev finds himself in prison, it’s only the visits from his magically-gifted sister Ella that keeps him sane and gives him hope of revolution.

27. We Cast A Shadow by Maurice Carlos Ruffin. Desperate to protect his son in a profoundly racist America, a man embarks on a mission to get his boy a ‘demelanization’ to make him white. It’s an original and edgy satire full of suspense and heart.

MIDDLE-GRADE

28. Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson. This poetic memoir charts the story of Woodson’s own childhood, growing up as an African-American in 1960s and 1970s. These are truly beautiful poems that sing a young girl’s desire to be heard and to know who she is.

29. Ghost by Jason Reynolds. Ghost is a sprinter but it’s only when Coach sees his talent that he really starts to chase his dream but his dark past is hot on his heels. Full of Reynolds’ signature humour and heart, it’s highly relatable to almost any kid from around the age of 10.

30. The Jumbies by Tracey Baptiste. This creepy magical middle-grade adventure sees fearless Corinne on a dangerous mission to save her home from dark forces. Steeped in Caribbean folklore, The Jumbies is a fantastic gateway into eerie fantasy.

31. The Crossover by Kwame Alexander. Twins Josh and Jordan are basketball stars, following in their father’s footsteps but hardship tests their brotherly bonds. Merging basketball and rap, this verse novel gives us a stark reminder of what really matters.

32. Ghost Boys by Jewell Parker Rhodes. Get set for a truly heartbreaking but horrendously timely story. Jerome was shot dead by police at the age of 12 and his ghost wanders the Earth in search of answers as to why he was killed. Not sure I need to say anymore as to why this is a highly important tearjerker.

YA

33. Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo. When a plane crash brings two sisters on either side of the Atlantic together, family secrets unravel. Exploring sacrifice and identity, this verse novel is a stark reminder that most losses and tragedies are felt only by the families they directly affect.

34. Orangeboy by Patrice Lawrence. Marlon has promised his mum that he won’t follow the path of his gang leader brother but when a date leaves him a hunted man, he has some impossible choices to make. Laced with musicality, this pacy urban thriller puts you directly in the shoes of an ordinary boy caught up in very real danger.

35. The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta. Struggling with his identity as a mixed-race gay teen, it’s only when he starts university that Michael gains his wings through the power of drag. Tackling both racism and homophobia, The Black Flamingo teaches acceptance and self-love.

36. The Sun Is Also A Star by Nicola Yoon. Natasha and Daniel meet on the same day that Natasha’s family are about to be deported to Jamaica. Cue an epic quest for love to overthrow the authorities! It’s a sweet romance about fate and taking the future into your own hands.

37. Dear Martin by Nic Stone. When Ivy League-destined Justyce is arrested, he turns to the lessons of Martin Luther King to help figure things out but then shots are fired. Undeniably relevant to today’s America, Dear Martin confronts the blatant racism and injustice within the justice system.

38. On The Come Up by Angie Thomas. Aspiring rapper Bri is desperate to make it to help her family, despite all the odds being against her. Better known for her break-out debut hit The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas’ follow-up is an equally hard-hitting story of standing up and speaking out for what’s right. 

HISTORICAL 

39. The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Escaping an extremely violent and abusive past in the 1930s American South, Celie finds the strength to be her true wonderful self. The Color Purple is considered a staple of black literature and considered one of the most mind-opening books in existence.

40. Roots by Alex Haley. Tracing the story of his own ancestors, Alex Haley’s Roots is a highly educational documentation of African American history during the Slave Trade. Published in 1976, it made a massive impact on the world and Kunta’s story is just as urgent and vital today.

41. Freedom by Catherine Johnson. This historical middle-grade story follows Jamaican slave Nat as he makes his way to London, where he has heard that slavery doesn’t exist, which he soon finds to be false. Freedom is a moving, action-packed look at British slavery that is the perfect starting point for educating pre-teens.

42. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. This classic tale follows wrestler Okonkwo, who returns from exile to discover his village has been taken over by colonials. It’s a difficult read that captures powerlessness and pain in a short, impactful burst and will no doubt force white readers to look at their own behaviours.

43. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. Exploring bigotry and racism across the US, our protagonist tries his best to play by the rules but continues to be knocked down. Despite being published in 1952, Ellison’s arguments are painfully relevant to today, indicating that not much has changed at all. 

44. The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead. Life as a slave in Georgia is hell for Cora but when new arrival Caesar tells her about the Underground Railroad, escape plans are hatched. Cora’s determination and courage are hugely inspirational and her experience, which mirrors that of many real slaves, should never be forgotten.

45. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi. This epic story of two sisters’ very different experiences of 1800s Ghana sprawls across generations, clearly showing how history resonates and the ripples are felt long after the original event. A stunning captivating read.

THRILLERS

46. Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas. Highly selective, isolated academy Catherine House sees teenage runaway Ines join its ranks and a strange Gothic mystery unfurls. This subtly unsettling chilly novel is a brand new debut that I devoured earlier on this month and I’m sure you will too!

47. My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite. Korede is used to clearing up her younger sister Ayoola’s messes -and disposing of the bodies she leaves in her wake! There is a wonderfully dark tongue-in-cheek tone that makes this fast-paced thrilling celebration of sisterhood truly delightful.

48. They All Fall Down by Rachel Howzell Hall. Seven strangers find themselves in a mansion on an island with no contact with the outside world and no escape. With strong Agatha Christie vibes, it’s a highly entertaining mystery whose pages you’ll keep turning.

49. Devil In A Blue Dress by Walter Mosley. When a war veteran is pulled into a search for a mysterious woman, murder and lies are uncovered. Set in 1940s LA, Walter Mosley expertly weaves the natural fears of a Black man of the time into the smoky intrigue, making it extremely immersive.

50. Hollywood Homicide by Kellye Garrett. Broke former actress Dayna didn’t mean to solve a hit-and-run but the reward money would definitely come in handy. Once she starts digging, she becomes determined to find the killer. I love cosy mysteries with amateur detectives and this more than fits that bill.

#black lives matter #black authors #black books #anti-racism #social justice

[kinderwrath]

Ahoy! Here's Chapter 8-Natures Flame

I don't know if I dreamt while I slept. The only thing I could remember was hearing Nissa voice and calm stilling my thoughts. I didn't see the fires of Kaladesh or hear the battle The Gatewatch fought and I wasn't visited by the temptresses version of Nissa either. Just calm. When I woke she was there sitting next to me cross legged meditating, her hand resting on my hip. Outside the horizon was starting to lighten. How long had I slept? All afternoon and thought the night? Had Nissa been sitting like this the entire time? The calm, that explained it. She had been there wrapping me in her calm. I felt disquieted at the fact that Nissa sacrificed her sleep for me, although I appreciated it. She always seemed to know what I needed without me having to ask. I had seen Nissa meditate more times then I could count but it always amazed me how still she was. She looked like a porcelain and emerald statue, and even thought she looked so delicate I knew how strong she was. I admired her for that, somehow making it look effortless. Breathtaking really. In that moment I felt like my heart was wrapped in white hot flames, not from lust but the need for us to never be apart. I could see our life together laid out in front of me and there was nothing I wouldn't do to maker her happy. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes and my mind and heart were engulfed with emotion. Like a switch her eyes opened falling on where her hand lay. "Chandra." She whispered my name almost a question on her lips. "I'm here, I'm sorry you didn't sleep..." "What were you doing just now?" She asked so urgently I thought she was angry. "I uh nothing, just watching you." I answered nervously. "I felt you." "I'm sorry what?" I asked trying to understand. "Your emotions. The raw heat of everything you were feeling. It was so overwhelming I couldn't hold onto my connection with nature." She said looking astonished. I really wasn't sure what to say. "Wow" It wasn't the most clever response but it was all I had just then. "Wow is right. Do you realize that would be like if I could extinguish your flames with a touch?" "Well you pretty much can. I haven't felt myself go all ragey at all when your with me. Even when Liliana was here, normally I would have turned this place to ash. And I was beyond angry, but the fire wasn't there."  "It's like we draw off each other's energy. I've never heard of this happening out side of two Jorgan before." She paused thinking. "Whatever our sparks are made of, yours and mine are the same." She looked both overwhelmed and awestruck. "I guess we will have to just wait to see if this helps or hurts us." I said with calm in my voice. "Aren't you worried at all?" She asked. "Nope. It will be ok as long as we are facing it together." I sat up and scooted closer to comfort her placing a kiss on her cheek. She smiled sweetly. "Your right, thank you." "You may not want to tell me I'm 'right' I might take advantage of that." I joked hoping to brighten the mood. It worked. "I will keep that in mind. How does your shoulder feel today? Did getting some rest help?" She asked "I does feel a little better yeah, thank you for that by the way. I think that was the best night sleep I have ever had. I don't think I even moved." I answered stretching the muscles in my back. "No you were pretty still the whole time." I raised a eyebrow. "I thought you were meditating. Or were you just ogling me all night?" I asked. "I may have done some ogling yes. How could you expect me not too? I love it when you wear these." Her elegant fingers played with the hem of the fabric of my too short shorts high up on my my thigh. She was sending little shivers through me, making it very hard to focus on anything else. "When have ever seen me in these? You never stay to watch me and Gideon spar, your always off doing something else." I asked in a effort to compose myself. "Yes I usually like to take that time to enjoy a bath at the stream. It's quite with no one else around." She slid one of her fingers under the edge of my shorts and saying the last part seductively drawing out the emphasis on being alone. I moved to grab her and kiss fiercely but she was up and out of my reach faster then I would have imagined. She smiled at me teasingly. "Damn elf! That was just wrong." I pouted and leaned back on the bed trying to cool off. "I'm sorry, don't pout." She climbed up and laid next to me on her side. If it helps I was only teasing you a little, I was being honest mostly." I opened one eye squinting at her. "What part was the teasing bit?" I asked. "That's not the only time I steal off alone." She answered. "And how is knowing 'that'! Suppose to help exactly?" She laughed hard at that. I couldn't help it her laugh was infectious and I joined her. Once we calmed down a bit I beamed at how much I loved the moments with her. A question pulled at me and I had to know the answer. "Not that I want to bring up old romances or anything but can I ask a question about her? Nis." It didn't seem to phase her at all. "Feel free, for you I'm a open book." She answered. "How was She even able to walk away from you? I mean even if it had only been a physical relationship, with how sensuous and seductive you are you must have drove her insane." I hoped I hadn't said anything to make her uncomfortable. Some times I really didn't have a filter. "It was and I was never like this with her." She said simply. "Umm ok, not that I'm interested in hearing about you being with someone else, but what do you mean?" She laughed understanding. "Things were always 'good' between us in that department but I was young and so guarded emotionally. By the time I had the courage to let he see that side of me she was gone. But with you I am completely incapable holding anything back. After this morning I understand why that is more. Our connection to each other is so strong on so many levels you would be able to feel if I did anyway." She clarified. "That actually makes a lot of sense.  Thank you for being open with me." I said content with her answer. "Well if we are asking questions I have one for you..." she asked sitting up. "Ask away." I said sitting up as well tucking one leg under me. "I wanted to ask yesterday but it really wasn't the right time." I nodded "I don't want to be to direct, but how do you keep every inch of you so smooth?" She asked, the tips of her ears going scarlet as she traced a small circle on my knee.  "It's part of being a Pyromancer." She looked at me confused. "I would be naked by the end of every fight if I wasn't." I said closing my eyes letting my hair slowly turn into tendrils of bright flame and then smolder back. When I opened my eyes Nissa was staring at me with a look of reverence and desire. "That is so unbelievably sexy." She rasped "I think I can control the energy that fuels it now." I said tentatively, willing a single flame from my index finger. She watched me eagerly as I reached out and traced her collar bone and dipping down pausing just above the swell of her breast. I let the flame go out then, waiting for her reaction. She let out a little whimper when the heat left her skin. "And that was just one finger?" She asked, I nodded. "Well I guess I won't be teasing you anymore, you have a unfair advantage." She laughed shakily. "Oh yes because you are so innocent aren't you?" "We could go round and round on who is better at that..." She said fidgeting anxiously. "But could you just be kissing me right now?" She sounded so vulnerable and eager I didn't even answer, I just pulled her to me my lips crashing into hers hungrily. I had wanted to be gentle and tender like she had been, but honestly 'gentle' isn't something I'm known for. This time I was setting the pace so I used what felt natural. It was raw, emotional and intense. She pulled herself closer until her slender legs were on either side of mine. I let my hands roam her back feeling the way her muscles flexed. I trailed them down low on her hips and lifted her slightly cupping her backside in my hands. Her hips rocked against me then in reaction to my touch. Instinct took over and in one fluid movement I turned us pressing her against the bed. I leaned my body into hers our hips touching, my weight fully against her. "Careful of your arm..." "Don't care." I muttered, lightly biting her lower lip. She shivered mumbling "Okay." I could worry about the pain later. The only thing I wanted to think about right now was how perfect Nissa felt against me. Her mouth was warm and tasted sweet, I couldn't get enough of it. My hand teased down her side and across her stomach. I broke the kiss then to look at her. Her creamy white skin was a stark contrast to the deep green soft leather half shirt she was wearing. Her back arched trying not to loose contact with me. Her breasts strained against the laces holding the shirt together giving me a small look at the valley between. This part I wanted to slow down for, I remembered the feeling of her from the other night, but now I wanted to see her too. She started to squirm a bit underneath me the not enjoying me making her wait. "Nissa? How fond are you of this top?" I asked, needing to feel her naked skin. "This? Hate it. Never liked it at all." She stammered pulling at the tie on the lace in front. With a quick movement I snaked my fingers underneath the bottom lace and snapped it effortlessly. "Your. Way. Much faster, damn your strong." She managed to say haltingly as she kissed at my neck. I pulled the rest of the lace free, her top falling open. She was truly exquisite and I lost myself starting at her for what must have been to long. "Do you like what you see?" Nissa asked seductively. My hand turned to fire as I cupped her breast and we both let out small moans in almost unison. My thumb grazed her sensitive pink peak as I massaged and she rocked hips against me again. This time she hooked her leg around my hip pulling me closer looking for friction. I could feel how turned on she was the way she was pressed against me, so very warm. She tilted her head to kiss me again and when our lips were almost touching I said "kissing your lips makes me wonder what the rest of you tastes like." After seeing the needy look in her eyes I began to trail open mouth kisses down her neck, over her collar bone to her breast wanting to feel that pink peak against my tongue. The closer I got the more frustrated noises Nissa made. Finally reaching my destination I swirled my tongue around it make her making her jerk. I let out a small laugh and my breath caught the moisture making her peak tighten more. I couldn't resist I captured it with my lips, pulling it into my mouth and flicking it with my tongue. Nissa said something in Jorgan that I'm sure was a curse word and tangled her fingers in my hair. "Don't stop doing that. Ever." She groaned. I had just opened my mouth to respond when there was a heavy knock on the door. "You have to be kidding me!" She whined her head dropping back in frustration. The knock came again. "Nissa? It's Gideon are you in there?" The flames from my hand extinguishing I untangled myself from Nissa reluctantly. "I hope you won't miss Gideon too much because I have to turn him into a ball of fire now." I heard Nissa mumble "Makes two of us." as I walked to the door. I pulled it open roughly. "What can I do for you Gids?" I huffed. "Just came to see how your healing and see if you and Nissa would like to join us for dinner at the inn tonight?" He asked cocking a eyebrow at my expression. "Nissa is taking great care of me, I'm actually bouncing back pretty quickly." I said rolling my shoulder carefully for emphasis. "As for dinner? We should be able to make it. Really have to see how the day goes... and all that." I said "Ok then. Chan you sure things are good? Jace said you and Nissa were acting a little off the other day." He asked trying to see around me inside. I moved trying to block his view, I wasn't sure if Nissa had covered herself and I was feeling protective. " Ya. No things are fine. She was just teaching me to meditate and stuff. " I hoped my answer would make him go away. He wasn't getting the picture. "Really thought I should get back to that. Before Nissa turns one of us into a tree or something. But tonight is a for sure maybe, ok? Ok bye Gids" I said closing the door in his confused face. "Well he's lucky I'm in a good mood." I said turning around crossing the room back to the bed. Nissa's face looked troubled and I hoped I hadn't made a mistake or been to eager. "Hey? You ok? If I did...." I stammered not sure what to say and feeling insecure. "Do you think Gideon would hate being a tree?" She asked looking up at me and then laughed at her own joke. I settled down heavily next to her on the bed. "Are 'you' ok baby?" She asked. "Ya. I'm mean besides Gids ruining the moment. I was more worried I was too pushy or all over the place. I just wanted you to enjoy it." I answered. "Oh I enjoyed it a lot, I'm sure you could tell. The Being interrupted part, that I hated. Let's skip that next time." She said taking my hand in hers. "So, you would like there to be a next time huh?" I asked teasingly. "There better be!" She squeaked and I laughed "If I didn't know better I would think you were lying about me being your first." I blushed. "I feel like a bumbling idiot. Promise me Nis, if I'm doing something your not okay with or don't like you will tell me. And like right then, not later. Promise?" I asked earnestly. "Yes I promise, you have to do the same though." She replied "Deal." I agreed. "I would love to pick back up where we stopped, but now I'm all worried someone else will come knocking. Gids looked pretty unconvinced everything was ok. Maybe we should actually go to the inn tonight, put peoples minds at ease." I said. "That's a good idea really. And for safety." She agreed. "Safety?" I asked. "Yes, because if that happens again I am going to turn them into a tree and you are going to burn said tree." She stated matter of factly. "Your wish is my command." I smiled.

#nissa/chandra #guurlfriends #chandra and nissa #nissa #nissa revane #chandra #chandra nalaar #gay women #magic the gathering #fanfic #fanficton #fanfiction #kinderwrath

[hopeymchope]

Naegiri One-Shot - Teasing and Tickling (Danganronpa Fanfic)

This one wasn’t inspired by a prompt but instead by the recent mini-discussion on @capndirosso​‘s blog about tickling between Naegi and Kirigiri.

(Since it’s a fairly sexy one [though it’s not erotica, I promise], I’m going to be putting this ficlet behind a Keep reading link for your safety.)

Within one of the old faculty buildings on the east side of the Hope’s Peak campus, inside a former office converted into a makeshift bedroom, Kyoko Kirigiri and Makoto Naegi were lying in a basic double bed.

Even though the clock had passed midnight more than an hour ago, they were both very much awake. They were also naked, sweaty, and exhausted from recent shared activities.

The couple laid on their sides beneath the thin bedsheet, arms wrapped around each other with their faces only inches apart. “Mmmmmm,” Kyoko hummed happily with her eyes closed.

Makoto was staring at her lovingly when he nervously asked, “Ahh... do you think anyone heard us?”

Kyoko opened her eyes with a giggle. “You always ask that,” she pointed out.

“Only because you get louder every time!” Makoto replied defensively.

Kyoko couldn’t keep her smile from growing. “I do not,” she insisted with a tiny grin. “It’s a trick of perception. We always wind up with my legs wrapped around your waist and my head up by your shoulders. In other words, you merely think I’m loud because I’m screaming next to your ear.”

“Screaming is the operative word there, I’d say,” Makoto noted, letting out a small laugh. “I just don’t want to bother any of the crew that’s working the morning shift. We’ve still got a long way to go if we’re gonna be ready to open in the spring.”

Kyoko smirked mischievously at him. “In spite of your concerns for their well-being, I’m sensing that you don’t really mind the noise,” she observed.

“No!” Makoto began before he realized how confusing that response probably sounded. “What I mean is, you’re right!” he admitted. “It’s actually… um, the sounds you make are really sexy.” His voice grew noticeably quieter on the last couple of words.

When she heard how his voice lowered, Kyoko’s smile took on an air of disbelief. “You’re legitimately astonishing, Makoto,” she told him, clearly amused. “Here you are, naked in my arms after making passionate love to me, yet you still can’t say the word ‘sex’ without acting like a nervous middle-schooler.”

“H-hey!” Makoto yelped, suddenly blushing. “Don’t make fun!”

She narrowed her eyes as though observing his face closely. “Now I’m curious,” she said. “When your face blushes, how much of the remainder of your body follows suit?”

“Er, what?” Makoto blurted anxiously.

Before he could ask her to explain herself further, Kyoko’s head disappeared beneath the sheet.

“Sorry for leaving on short notice,” Makoto heard Kyoko say. “I’m afraid this demands further investigation.”

“Hey, no!” Makoto pleaded with a laugh. He started to try and push himself backwards, easing his way towards the side of the bed so that he could escape. However, before he could make it out of bed, he felt Kyoko’s hair brushing up against the side of his chest. It tickled him on contact, and he quickly slapped his right hand over his mouth to cover his giggles. A few seconds later, he could feel her kissing his chest.

Regardless of the hand he held over his mouth, Makoto couldn’t stop himself from giggling uncontrollably at the feeling of Kyoko’s hair sweeping across his torso. In a few more moments, he was biting his hand to try and stop himself from exploding into a laughing fit. After a full minute had passed, he finally released his hand from his mouth and laughed aloud, kicking his feet helplessly as he pleaded “S-s-top! I give!” in-between breaths.

Kyoko slithered up through the sheets so she could poke her head out to look at him. “Come now,” she said playfully. “The Ultimate Hope that inspired the world surrenders after a single minute of tickling and chest-kisses? I have to say that I expected more.”

“Oh yeah?!” Makoto said cockily. “Let’s see how well you hold up under tickle-torture!”

“Not a chance!” Kyoko called defiantly as she disappeared back under the sheet.

Makoto yanked the primary sheet up over himself as he slid his body down towards the foot of the bed

Plenty of light was shining through the thin sheet in such a way that let him clearly recognize the shadowy shape of Kyoko’s body. “So…it seems you tailed me here after my initial attack,” Kyoko declared mock-dramatically. Her eyes glinted as the light leaked through the threads of the sheet and fell across her face. She smiled demurely and continued, “It was a clever plan, Naegi, but now you have nowhere else to go.”

“Oh, I know where I’m going!” Makoto fired back confidently. He leaned forward and starting to run his fingers up and down along the ribs on her right side.

“What’re you-AH! Hee, heh, haha NO!” Kyoko cried as she tried futilely to fight back uncontrollable laughter.

Inevitably, the next morning brought the rest of the crew two very sleepy project leaders. One inquisitive crew member asked them if they were kept awake by the strange screaming she’d heard around the faculty building. As she gulped down her coffee with one hand, Kirigiri merely waved her other hand dismissively and suggested that the noise was “probably macaques.”

#naegiri #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #fluff #sexy fic #danganronpa fanfic #danganronpa fan fiction #danganronpa fanfiction #danganfanfic

[lovebooksgroup]

In the gloriously hot summer of 1936, a group of people meet at a country house party. Within three years, England will be at war, but for now, time stands still.

Dan Ranscombe is clever and good-looking, but he resents the wealth and easy savoir-faire of a fellow guest, Paul Latimer. Surely a shrewd girl like Meg Slater would see through that, wouldn’t she? And what about Diana, Paul’s beautiful sister, Charles Asher, the Jewish outsider, Madeleine, restless and dissatisfied with her role as children’s nanny? And artist Henry Haddon, their host, no longer young, but secure in his power as a practiced seducer.

As these guests gather, none has any inkling the choices they make will have fateful consequences, lasting through the war and beyond. Or that the first unforeseen event will be a shocking death.

My Q&A with Caro Fraser 

Please tell my readers a little bit about yourself and your publishing journey.

I’m 64-year-old retired lawyer, I live in South East London, and I’ve been an author for almost twenty-five years, although I’ve been writing all my life. My first novel, The Pupil, was published in 1993 and was the beginning of a very successful series of legal novels (the Caper Court series). There are seven books in the series, all featuring the brilliant, charming, but amoral barrister Leo Davies, and I’m hoping to start number eight next year. In between, I’ve published a number of stand-alone novels. My new book, The Summer House Party, opens in the summer of 1936, three years before the war, at the country home of Henry Haddon, a famous society painter, and his wife Sonia. A group of friends – some young, some old, some wealthy, some less so – have been brought together for a week to enjoy the country house pleasures of tennis parties, picnics, and tea on the lawn. As the warm, lazy days unfold, intrigues and rivalries develop among the younger guests, and then a sudden death, like a foretaste of the war to come, puts and end to the party. In the years that follow the events of that week continue to haunt their lives, and as the country heads into war they must try to reconcile the choices and mistakes they have made….

This latest novel is something of a departure for me, as all my other books are set in the present day. I hugely enjoyed doing the historical research and trying to catch the tone and feel of that pre-war world. I like to think this is the kind of big book you could take on holiday for a long, lazy read!

The Summer House Party is published by Head Of Zeus, and what is especially delightful for me is that reunites me with Rosie de Courcy, the wonderful editor who published my first novel when she was with Orion Publishing.

  Describe yourself using three words?

Mother, child, writer  

  What inspired you to write your first novel?

The Pupil was the first novel I wrote, and it became the first in the Caper Court series of legal novels. It was inspired by my experiences in pupillage (which is a sort of apprenticeship on the road to becoming a barrister), and its hero, Anthony Cross, is a brilliant but hard-up pupil barrister who has to struggle against heavy odds to gain a tenancy in a prestigious set of barristers’ chambers. Halfway through the novel I introduced a character called Leo Davies, who becomes a kind of mentor to Anthony, but is also bisexual and has ulterior motives for befriending him… He was such a successful character that he became very much the ‘star’ of the novels that followed.  

  What time of day do you like to write?

I have a pretty regular routine – start at 9, break for coffee at 11, lunch at 1, gym or swim around 3 – but oddly enough, I find the most productive time of day to write is early evening.  Things just flow then, for some reason.

  What is your favourite book and why?

That’s a difficult one. I suppose my favourite from childhood is The Rose And The Ring, by William Thackeray, because it’s the book that first opened my eyes to wonderful writing. But for a desert island I would take Martin Chuzzlewit, by Dickens. I never get tired of it.

  How did you pick the title of your book?

Actually, it was my agent who came up with the title for The Summer House Party. I suppose it’s quite an obvious one because the book opens with guests gathering for a week-long house party in the summer of 1936, and that house party is the catalyst for all the events that follow.   

  Are the characters in your book based on real people?

No. Real people are far too complex to put on a page. That said, I occasionally take aspects of someone I know – mannerisms, tricks of speech, and so on – and use them in creating a character. And because I think very visually when I write, and see events as though they’re unfolding on film, I might pick an actor who could portray the character I’m creating and use them as a physical template. I did that with Leo Davies in the Caper Court books – in my mind’s eye he was the young (and at that time very dishy) Anthony Hopkins.  

  What’s your favourite word?

Not sure I have one. But I quite like the word ‘ludicrous’.

  If you were a colour what would it be?  

If she wants to wind me up, my daughter will occasionally tell me I’m in danger of becoming ‘beige’. But I like to think I’m more a soft, yet vibrant shade of yellow!

  Do you plan your story beforehand or go with the flow?

I generally have a rough idea of the story, but I never plot too tightly. I like to be true to my characters and allow them to shape things. There will be times in a story when I’m about to have a character do or say something, and I’ll think – hold on, she wouldn’t do or say that, she’d do or say this instead. Characters really take a hold of you in that way.  They become like real people, and you can’t let them act in a way that’s literally out of character. So that can take the story in an unexpected direction. I suppose the answer is that I tend to go with the flow, though there is always a point in a book, about two-thirds of the way through, where you have to start weaving plotlines together to bring it all to a satisfactory conclusion.

  Who is your favourite Author?

Bit of a chestnut, but I suppose Charles Dickens. He never lets you down, he is a genius of a storyteller, he can command humour and pathos with equal brilliance, and has created some of the most memorable characters in fiction. Mind you, I could say much the same of Stephen King, who is a master of his craft.

  You are attending a dinner party with four fictitious book characters who would they be and why?

Top of the invitation list would be Flashman, the anti-hero of my father George MacDonald Fraser’s wonderful historical novels. He’s sexy, amusing, and would have some great stories to tell. I reckon he’d probably get on pretty well with Scarlett O’Hara – I love her independent spirit and her determination to look after number one – so I’d have her there, too. And as I’ve always had a huge weak spot for him, please could I sit next to Bertie Wooster?  Maybe to inject some elegance, mystery and the possibility of intrigue among the guests, I’d like to invite the Marquise de Merteuil from Les Liaisons Dangereuses. How she and Scarlett would get along is anyone’s guess, so maybe they should be seated at opposite ends of the table.

  What book are you reading at the moment?

At the moment I’m reading Three Sisters, Three Queens by Philippa Gregory, as it’s my book club’s choice. Apart from that, I’m reading Quentin Crisp’s The Naked Civil Servant. Most people have seen the film starring John Hurt, but the book itself is well worth a read – it’s a brilliantly witty, elegantly written gem, and an astonishing insight into what it was like to be gay in the unforgiving era when homosexuality was illegal. Also on my bedside table is London Fog, The Biography, by Christine L. Corton. It examines the history of air pollution in London and the depiction and influence of London fogs in English literature, and is ideal for dipping in and out of.

  Where in the world is your happy place?

We have a cottage in the Isle of Man, where my parents used to live and where I went to school for a couple of years. The cottage stands on a remote headland overlooking a bay with a little beach, and has a wildflower meadow. The views are stunning, the air is wonderful, and lying in the meadow on a summer’s day it’s so quiet you can hear the swish of a gull’s wing as it flies overhead, and the buzz of insects in the grass. That’s my happy place.

  If you had one superpower what would it be?

Invisibility. I suppose I should say something like superhuman strength so that I could go around doing heroic deeds and rescuing people, but I’d much rather be able to slip unseen in and out of places and find out what’s going on….

  If you could give any literary villain a happy ending who would you chose?

I think it would be rather nice if Satan from Paradise Lost (who is, after all, a fallen angel) could see the error of his ways and get back together with God and become a force for good, rather than evil. It would save the world a lot of grief! 

  Are you working on a new project?  

I’m happy to say I’m working on the sequel to The Summer House Party. Everyone knows that feeling of getting to the end of a book and wanting to know more. That’s the way I want my readers to feel, so that they need to find out what happens next with the characters. I’m often quite curious myself! I’m already halfway through it, and I’m even hoping it may lead to a third novel.  

  Do you have any upcoming events our members can attend?  

Yes, I’ll be at Romance In The Court, hosted by Goldsboro Books in the delightful Cecil Court just off Leicester Square on May 25th from 6 – 9pm. I would love to meet readers – yours and mine! – so I do hope people will come along. https://www.goldsborobooks.com/event/romance-court-2017/

  Thank you to Caro Fraser and Suzanne @HoZ_Books for this wonderful Q&A, come back soon.

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  The Summer House @carofraser @HoZ_Books #QA In the gloriously hot summer of 1936, a group of people meet at a country house party.

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