#i was going to go nuts on images but it only allows thirty

[afro-elf]

fine, i’ll elaborate on my thoughts about tylor sift but they will be disorganized

disclaimer: i know a few people will read this and be like “op is a hozier fan can she really talk about the cultural obsession with mediocre white art?” and the answer is yes because a) i’m black and i have an english degree so can do whatever i fucking want, b) hozier is a better artist than taylor objectively, like his mediocre tracks would be considered her great ones, and c) the comparison of taylor to hozier is part of the problem Genuinely because i don’t even think white people like half the music they listen to, they just don’t wanna be left behind, we’ll get into this later. i’m sorry to everyone who is tired of hearing about him but hozier will be returning later in this post jsfglsjlgldsjlfd

second note: read this

i don’t just dislike taylor because she’s white. i don’t dislike taylor because she’s a woman. i don’t dislike her because she writes mean and petty lyrics about past relationships and people who wronged her. i don’t dislike taylor because her public circle of friends is almost exclusively blonde white celebrities with their own laundry lists of issues that includes ryan reynolds and blake lively who are poster children for white privilege and pseudo-excellence if i’ve ever seen them. i dislike taylor because the amalgamation of all of those things is so exemplary of a huge problem i have with the music industry in general but also like american society

fuck it, numbered list!

1. taylor swift consistently releases the same mediocre album but in different colors. every album is the same lyrically and tonally. her body of work rarely goes very far above “good for taylor swift”. folklore as both title and musical aesthetic is irrelevant to the actual content of the album, which is just every taylor swift album except set to folk pop and with a bit more cussing, congrats for baby’s first swear. i’ve seen folklore compared to much better bodies of work and even propped up by stans as album of the year, a distinction that rina sawayama and chloe x halle will be battling it out for if there is any justice in the world at all. the fact that she is allowed to do this and still be considered great when this is something that even white male artists are butchered critically for... astounds me. like we all know how well received all of coldplay’s similar sounding albums are.... Come on. 

2. i don’t think taylor or her work is particularly feminist and yet for some reason every time she frowns an army of white women brings her kleenex. i’m not saying taylor’s anger has always been unjustified, but her feminism to me has always felt like “i can do whatever a man can do” feminism, which is utterly fucking useless to me as a black woman. it’s only useful to her because as a wealthy, white, straight, cis white woman her ONLY obstacle in life is her gender. and if she just didn’t have that tricky little bitch then maybe people would take her seriously. like, just think about her music video for the man... what was the thesis of that? what was the point of that? with all of her privileges she’d just be gaining a single extra privilege. she’s a blonde blue eyed thin white girl, the world kisses her feet. i have no interest in proving myself any better or any worse than white men, they are not the standard for how a person should be treated, they’re cautionary tales, and white women are too. i think taylor capitalizes off of white woman victimhood, and it’s all over her writing style. even when she’s trying to be empowered, like in mad woman for example, there is this tone to it of victimization, poking the bear, unleashing the beast if you will. she invokes the imagery of salem witches and even more boldly chooses a noose to write about in the song which is..... surely going to be a white tumblr staple for many gifsets to come but holy shit is it hollow. she also tends to come back to teenage memories in her music and she’s thirty. i don’t think about being seventeen unless i’m being held at gunpoint but she seems to think about it All The Time. and part of this is to keep herself young, at least in her music, which only further ingrains this image of fragile teeny bopper taylor into the mind of the listener, fueling her victim image. this imagery and language means nothing because the world always rallies around taylor. even when she was the butt of jokes for not being beyonce (which she is not and never can be) and writing about her exes (which she does), she was largely supported by the industry and by critics. look at how many fucking awards she has!

3. folk and indie and alternative music is in a moment of transition, where musicians of color are getting the chance to really speak about how they’ve been treated in these overwhelmingly white circles and create their own standards and their own voices. and for taylor swift to swoop in with aaron dessner and jack antonoff fantano and almost reassert that mid-2010s indie sound as The Sound of folk pop in the popular consciousness.... it makes me violent! it! makes! me! violent! 

4. back to hozier! finally, i wanna talk about white standom, fandom, bandom, and womandom. i often see these very superficial comparisons between hozier and taylor (and hozier and florence and hozier and stevie nicks and hozier and whatever other white woman in fashion) and they frustrate me for more than one reason. i know that hozier has met taylor and said she’s cool, which is nice of him and he’s a nice man, but i’m not a nice man so i’m going to just say it: none of the people who have made those posts have listened to more than four hozier songs and it shows. the reason why this matters is because these posts catch on and create an image and preconception of hozier’s music that is divorced from reality and divorced from his influences and most importantly divorced from the deliberate and reverent blackness of his musical style. hozier has his white male privilege in the industry for sure but he’s not as towering of a giant as taylor and taylor’s music is an unsalted chicken, plain oatmeal, white paint drying on a white wall, a stick of unflavored gum. her music is so white it told me that its dad is a cop. i am, as a black hozier fan, exhausted with having to share space with white women who don’t know why hozier’s music kicks me in my lungs sometimes and think that taylor mentioning a tree ONCE in her 3 minute acoustic guitar slog about whatever suburb is the same when it simply is not. i swear some of you are pretending to love taylor because your friends love her and you don’t wanna be left out of the hot new musical discourse but she’s only the hot new musical discourse CONSTANTLY because she’s a white woman, she’s almost the Perfect white woman. like if someone asked me to describe a white woman, it would be taylor swift. her position at the top of the musical pyramid among people who eclipse her musically, vocally, and lyrically is only allowed because she’s The Perfect White Woman. she’s an ideal. white girls relate to her immediately because of it and now we have this unshakable mob of unbearable white women who think that the world has wronged someone who literally wrote fanfiction about the rich oil heiress white woman who owned her rhode island mansion before her aklghlghdhlgs it drives me fucking NUTS 

anyway that’s all. if you made it this far, listen to adia victoria, kaia kater, samantha crain, valerie june, kelsey lu, corinne bailey rae, brittany howard, kimya dawson, japanese breakfast, cold specks, left at london, rhiannon giddens, aisha badru, shea diamond, nadine shah, xenia rubinos, karen o, mirel wagner.... Anyone

#me #taylor swift meanie hour #long post

[dollediary]

I Could Make You Feel Better.

jake x fem!reader

overview: female masturbation, dry humping, mutual masturbation(?)

word count: 2.6k

not proof read, so don't mind typos or grammatical errors too much <3

"seriously?!" jake asked you in disbelief. you nodded shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up while he only made a face. "i don't believe it, y/n."

"im serious!" you protested. it may have been hard to believe, but it was true. "really..... i've never...touched myself before," your voice was low as you looked away.

"so let me get this straight. you let me touch you before you could even touch yourself?" he asked, bringing up the time you let him play with you when you two went to the movie theater.

it was a time frame where you two were taking your first steps toward being sexually intimate in public, for the thrill of it, though it was more so for fun rather than something you planned on really getting into.

you shrugged, making him look at you crazy. you guys had done many things in terms of being sexual together such as watching porn together on rave, sexting, sending nudes, etc.

all those times, he's made it clear that he masturbates to and because of you.... he had assumed you did the same. it was a shock to him.

"what?" you laughed, looking at him while he was silent in thought. he had so many questions, so many words he wanted to say but he didn't know how to.

"so do i like... not make you horny or...?" he let his question trail off as he bit his bottom lip, feeling embarrassed to even ask in the first place. you smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"of course i get horny, dumbass," you rolled your eyes."if i didn't enjoy it, i wouldn't keep doing it with you. i like how wet you make me," you responded though he still didn't understand. he sat up properly on the bed and scooted closer to you.

"what do you do to please yourself, then???" jaeyun was an avid masturbator. he probably became more addicted to it after the two of you started sending nudes to each other.

he went from various tabs on pornhub, xvideos, etc., to only relieving himself to your pictures and videos... which really amplified the results. to think you haven't done the same with him is crazy.

"i thought what we did was pleasure on its own, i never really felt the need to do anything more," you shrugged, crossing your legs. he looked at you and licked his lips.

"you should try it, and use the videos i sent you while you're at it," he said, biting his bottom lip. you nodded slightly and picked your phone up to look at the time.

"i should get going, don't like leaving the pet home alone too long," you said, getting up from his bed, he nodded and got up with you walking behind you to the door.

he gave you a kiss before you left and continued thinking about the conversation you two just had as he walked back to his room. needless to say, he let his mind and hand wander.

-

you and jaeyun were laying down on his bed watching t.v. the two of you hadn't been doing anything special, and frankly you were still sweaty from a hot day at work.

you would've showered sooner, but he insisted you lay with him as a "sorry" for being too busy working overtime to spend time with him.

hating the fact that you had been basically sitting in your own filth for maybe the past thirty minutes, you decided to get up and shower. "you got some clothes i can put on?" you asked.

"yeah, go ahead. i'll have em at the bottom of the bed for you," he said not even looking at you...too indulged in the screen i guess. you nodded and grabbed your phone as you made your way into the bathroom.

when you got in there, you undressed yourself, ran a bubble bath, and put a towel out to use when you were done. you went to grab your phone to turn on some music, looking at your wallpaper that was a picture you took of him.

...maybe i should try now? you thought to yourself. you locked the door quietly and slipped into the steamy tub opening your locked images in your gallery going to the folder you made of his pics and vids.

you went to one of his most recent nut videos he sent you, when you guys were exchanging nudes, and played it. your eyes watched intently, trying to take in everything that was going on as if you were seeing it for the first time.

you watched as his hand slowly stroked his cock in an up and down motion, tightening once it was at the top and such. you turned the volume up to hear his small grunts and shaky breaths he let out as he kept going.

you felt a small electric in your stomach and took your free hand to take a quick swipe down to see you were getting wet. you opened your legs, deciding to just get it out the way. and thank god jake loved filming long videos.

you used your finger to turn the volume up more as you let your hand trail down to your clit as you started rubbing slow circles to match the pace he was going. your breathing became irregular as you sped up to keep up with him.

your body, wanting to climax when he does, started forming a knot in your stomach as you felt yourself start shaking. seeing from the video, he was shaking and getting louder, ready to bust.

you bit your lip and kept his speed up feeling yourself getting ready to cum, his hand started shaking the same way yours were as his semen spit out with every stroke he made, though he stopped after a few.

you kept going, closing your eyes as you forced your high out to its fullest extent, twitching more as you bit your lip harder. after a few more seconds of that, you stopped and pulled your hand away feeling the last seconds of pleasure left behind.

you let your breathing go back to normal as you looked at the remainder of the video, which was jake turning the camera around to give you a corny ass smile with a thumbs up.

you rolled your eyes and exited out of your gallery, putting your phone aside as you watched yourself up completely. after you finished, you got out of the tub and wrapped yourself up, walking out the bathroom to see jake had put some clothes for you to wear at the bottom of the bed.

you unfolded the towel and dried yourself off while he watched you intently from his spot. you looked over to him and smiled as he quickly looked away, biting his lip.

you finished getting dressed and laid down next to him on the bed, burying your face into his side. "you smell good," you mumbled into his shirt. he hummed in response.

"pay attention to me, jaeyun...i did it," you mumbled again. he turned to look down at you to see you had a cheeky smile on your face as you looked back up at him.

"did what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. your smile only grew wider as you closed your eyes thinking back to that amazing feeling you felt, though you couldn't recreate it to its fullest extent.

"i masturbated~" you sang out. "and to that video you sent last week, it felt so good. i think i overstimulated, too," you continued, though he didn't seem to care so much. he only responded with a shrug and looked back to the t.v.

"how do you know if you really came, though?" he laughed, not even looking your way. you furrowed your eyebrows as you removed yourself from him, sitting up to look at him crazy.

"uh- i'm pretty sure i know what it feels like," you argued, feeling defensive about it. what you just experienced couldn't be you assuming you came. "it's the same way you would know."

"i don't think you have," jake persisted, sitting up. he placed his hands on your ass as he pulled you up onto his lap. you looked away from him feeling annoyed with how he was acting.

he took your turned head as an opportunity to start kissing on your neck. you closed your eyes, humming. but you realized what he was doing and quickly bit your lip as you opened your eyes again. "i think i know my body more than you do, asshole."

"don't get smart with me," his accent and deepened voice grumbled against your skin, making you shiver. he started biting down on your skin, leaving hickeys. you didn't protest and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"i don't...like you doubting...me," you breathed out, losing track of your thoughts as your body decided to focus more on what he was doing to you.

he wasn't just leaving love bites on your neck, he was also itching his way up your bare thigh and as he rubbed circles, it made you wet in no time. "i'm not. im just not really sure you know what that is."

"even if you do, don't you think i could make you feel better?" you couldn't decide whether you loved or hated what his choice of tone was doing to you. you always loved his accent, and how he deepened his voice when he wanted to get something out of you... but this is the time you stand your ground against him.

and it's a fight you were losing because of how easily he could seduce you. "...no," you managed to get out, making his movements stop for a second before he continued what he was doing.

he didn't say anything, but he grabbed your chin in-between his index finger and thumb forcing you to look him in the eyes. you wanted to melt under his gaze, but before you could react he pulled you into a kiss not wasting anytime, basically attacking your lips.

he wouldn't even let you get a breath of air, pulling you back into the kiss with his hand on the back of your neck, forcefully, only letting you breathe when he himself needed to. he slid his hand up your shirt making you shiver at how cold it was against your skin.

he pulled away from the kiss, only to place his tongue along your jawline, licking up to your ears leaving kisses. his hand was now massaging your breast, pinching your nipple every now and then. you mentally thanked yourself for not putting a bra on.

his lips met yours again as you allowed his tongue to slip in, swirling around yours as you sucked on his every now and then. he pulled away and looked you in the eyes out of breath before he immediately

his hands were feeling all over your clothed body. "i'm gonna take this off," he breathed into your ear, tugging at the end of your shirt, making you nod as you lifted your arms up to make it easier for him to take it off of you.

his mouth immediately found its way to suck on your left breast, as he squeezed the other one with his hand. you hummed, biting your lip as you felt your hand go down to play with the hem of your panties.

you slipped your hand in, making your way down to your clit to relieve some of the throbbing. but before you could start rubbing, jake snatched your hand out. he unlatched his mouth from you before he grabbed your chin the way he did before, except more roughly. "stop being needy, i'm gonna give you what you want."

you smiled and nodded, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks from the way he handled you. this time, he kept your chin in his hold only changing it to hold with his four fingers, using his thumb to rest on your lip. "open," he said, pulling your bottom lip down. you did as you were told, opening your mouth a little, though he didn't seem to be pleased by it since he used his thumb to open it more.

"stick your tongue out," he whispered, biting his lip, not bothering to move his thumb as your tongue lay on top of it. first he gave you open mouth kisses, moving with his tongue to be on top of yours before the both of you closed your mouths to finish the kiss.

it was a lovely sound and feeling, making you get wetter by the minute. you especially grew weak in the knees when he added tongue sucking into the combo as he continued. you moved your hips forward as you tried to scoot closer to him to break the distance between your bodies, earning a groan into the kiss from him.

"fuck, keep doing that," he said, moving. his hands to place them firmly on your waist, helping your movement. he threw his head back as you repositioned yourself on his left thigh, enjoying the feeling of his erection in his basketball shorts on your clit.

by now you were more than soaked, and from all the teasing and stalling he had done, you were ready to climax. "jaeyun, i'm gonna cum," you breathed out, speeding up your speed, ready to finally cum. he, knowing he wasn't near his yet, only closed his eyes and nodded.

"cum for me, baby," his grip on your waist tightenedto keep you steady as you kept riding his thigh, feeling your breathing speed up as a knot formed in your stomach. after a few more seconds of that, you finally felt the high hit, sending electric chills all over your body.

jake french kissed you while lifting you up so he could quickly pull his shorts and boxers down before placing you back down. soon enough, you were back on his (now naked) thigh, his dick being between your thighs, his hands on your hips, moving at a quick but steady pace.

you couldn't hold back your moans as jake forced you to keep going, pushing you down on his erection more, then resorting to lifting you up enough so that he could hump you easier. feeling himself come closer to his climax, he took you off his lap, before kneeling in between your legs, stroking himself while looking you directly in the eyes.

you didn't hesitate to reach your hand up to his cock to help him finish, but he only moved it away shaking his head. "i wanna nut on your face," he said, making you get wet again. you nodded and stayed still, seeing that was really all you could do since he looked close.

his eyes fighting so hard to stay open as he continued, he finally started spurting out semen while letting out a throaty moan. it landed on your tits, some landed on your lips, even some on your eyelashes and forehead. he stroked himself a few more times, before he stopped from the pain of overstimulation.

when he got his breathing back to a norm, he quickly went to get a towel to clean up the mess, leaving you sitting there. you wiped some of the cum off your eyes, then licked the cum that happened to land on your lips.

when he came back, he wiped off the excess, laying beside you. though you both were sweaty and gross, you both had an unspoken agreement to just wash up in the morning. he turned to you with his signature smile. "now wasn't that better than before?"

you rolled your eyes at him. in all honesty, you forgot all about what happened earlier. so, sadly jake ended up winning the 'argument'. looking everywhere but his eyes, you reluctantly nodded. "yeah. you win this time i guess."

"YES!" he said, smiling wider. he pulled you closer to his chest, kissing the top of your head. "it's okay, baby. we both knew i would win in the end."

#jake smut #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #jake imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jake #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x you #kpop smut #stepmilfyana

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 5 ~Rollover Rollo~

 Previously in Revelations and Snogs

"You want to see me again?" she teased, smiling.

"I dinnae even want to leave ye tonight."

She dropped her head down to hide the heat creeping up her face. "I'll see what's Annalise is up to and we'll take it from there. I'll either call you or send a message."

He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. "Ye're not mad I kissed ye? I havenae forgotten yer rules about first dates."

Claire picked up the gift bags, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. And then she smiled. "I'm starting to believe the rules don't apply to you. Good night, Jamie." And with that, she turned around and walked towards the cottage without looking back, knowing full well Jamie was still stood there waiting for her until she'd safely made it to the house.

Once inside, she allowed herself to slide down to the floor and relived the memory of their first kiss. And she sat there for a very long time.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

    Yawning, he stretched himself until his joints popped. When he glanced at his bedside clock, he realised it was only seven a.m. As per usual, Jamie hardly slept a wink, but this time around, he didn't feel depleted nor on edge. If anything, he felt refreshed and energised. There was nowhere to rush to as his and his brother's business was closed for the holidays; nevertheless, he decided to get up and feed his dog, Rollo and get a few moments alone before the day started. 

Most nights, he'd wake up to his own cries, his body drenched in perspiration and he'd find himself on the floor on his knees, breathing heavily as the feeling of panic took over. Raw terror and uncontrollable fear would course through his body, blurring his surroundings and any coherent thoughts. His only primary focus would be to fight for air, attempting to slow his breathing as his heart furiously pounded out of rhythm, making it seem like it was about to explode in his chest. He didn't have any idea how long the attacks took, only that it happened most nights and in loud, overly-crowded places. 

Last night had been different though. Instead of visions of horrors that plagued his dreams, he'd tossed and turned in his bed thinking of Claire. Images of her and their night together preoccupied his mind causing all sorts of emotions to poke his heart. Unknowingly, she'd gently nudged his past out of him which was a rare occurrence, as he seldom talked about it to anyone other than his older brother. It had been so easy to confide, and it came as natural as breathing. In such a short time, she'd kindled something inside him he hadn't known breathed, and made him feel alive again. When she'd heard his story, there were none of the affected looks of horror or sympathy he'd expected, nor did she give him any special treatment. She'd shared her thoughts with a silent understanding and compassion and moved on as if she knew they were treading over a delicate subject. 

Shoving his duvet aside, Jamie padded to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, relishing the warm stinging spray on his skin. Minutes later, after towelling off, he put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie. He hummed under his breath as he walked into the kitchen, knowing there was a lot to look forward to. Mainly spending time with Claire again. Feeling optimistic, he was grateful for the blessed respite from his night time terrors and counted himself lucky.

After all, he was the lucky one, wasn't he?

He was alive, and he'd dodged the bullets.

Simon MacKimmie hadn't. 

And he'd broken his promise.

He went over the scenario again, wondering if he'd just been a little quicker, shaving a few precious minutes, would Simon still be alive today?

As for his friend's wife, had he given up too soon on Laoghaire? He hadn't stayed around to find out and hear the rest of the story after the lass admitted to cheating. Maybe he should have talked to her and listened to her side of the account, instead of speculating why she did what she did. If he'd done that, would it have absolved him of his guilt?

He knew it was futile to keep rehashing the past events in his head. He'd already decided the best way forward was to embrace the natural process of grief and guilt even though his therapist wanted him to use every textbook solution that was out there and take the prescribed pills to dull the pain. He wasn't a fan of medication that you popped into the mouth and believed in a more organic healing approach which was why he came home to stay, surrounded by familiar faces in an environment he loved. Even if he would recover, he knew he couldn't go back to his old life as a part of him had died with Simon.

The sound of scrambling paws on the wooden floor brought him out of his reflections. His furry housemate and companion, Rollo, appeared around the corner and headed straight for him.

"Hiya mate, sae sorry was late last night." He patted the husky's head to smooth the white-grey fur, and in return, he got a gentle lick and prod with a wet snout to his hand. "I met a lass down at the pub and hardly noticed the time. Her name is Claire. I think ye'll like her."

Rollo's grey eyes flashed with understanding. "We'll go for a run later as soon as I know what she's up to. But first, coffee for me while ye go and do yer business."

Rollo cocked his head and nodded.

He opened the backdoor kitchen to let the dog out as a blast of chilly wind caused him to shiver, but Rollo only twitched his nose, barked twice, and ran off.

He laughed out loud at Rollo's outright joy of freedom, racing over to the grass to a favourite tree, and doing laps around the gnarled trunk and then disappearing behind the shed. A deep sense of peace settled over him as he closed the door behind him and turned on his coffee machine. His cottage might be small, and his yard less than half an acre, but he'd managed to create a home on his own terms.

Rollo had been Willie's idea after he was diagnosed with PTSD. His brother believed, human and animal bonding could help alleviate the aftermath of his trauma and aide with his healing. Willie was right. When Rollo had walked out of the rescue centre and into his arms, it had been love at first sight, and they'd been constant companions ever since. Rollo would soothe him when he had one of his episodes, the low whimper and touch of fur and wetness pressed against the side of his head calming him down in the dead of night. Laoghaire hadn't like the idea of the dog near her, but keeping Rollo was something he remained adamant about.

Jamie headed towards the pantry, grabbed a sack of dog food and filled the doggy bowl with biscuits, ready for when Rollo returned from his morning business. As he brought his coffee over to the table, he checked his phone. There were a few messages from his shinty teammates asking about Claire, probably prodded by their wives or girlfriends, eager to hear some juicy news to gossip about. 

He remembered catching some side-eyed looks as he and Claire had browsed through the stalls at the Christmas market last night and it was only a matter of time before everyone knew and started asking questions. When the phone rang, he quickly grabbed it. It was his brother-in-law, Ian.  Ah, fuck!  It meant Jenny must have heard.

Knowing there was no avoiding it, Jamie answered his phone. "Hey, aren't ye up way too early on holiday? How's the weather in the south of France?" 

Ian chuckled. "Never mind that. I'm calling to give ye a heads up."

"On what?" he asked casually, pretending not to know what Ian was on about as he sipped his coffee.

"Mary called Jenny last night, and they were on speaker, so heard the whole thing. Mary gave Jenny a rundown about the lassie ye were out with yesterday."

He ran a hand down his face. "Nosey git! Why does everyone have to know about my business or take an interest?"

"Aye, I said so too myself. Anyway, thought I'd let ye know. I told Jenny already no' to interfere with yer affairs, but ye ken what yer sister is like. She's worried about ye ..." Ian paused before letting out a sigh. "So go easy on her if she asks too many questions."

Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll be gentle, but I'm still telling her how it is. I'm a thirty-year-old man for God's sake, and I dinnae need her telling me how to run my life."

"Aye, I know. So, what's up with the lass?"

Jamie groaned. "Nought! I just met her last night. Went out for a few drinks and then I dropped her at Mrs Fitz's."

"Good. Like what ye said, it's naebody's business."

"Aye, remind yer wife that, please."

Ian laughed. "Telling her that would be like talking to a brick wall. Okay, got to go. I think Jenny just woke up. Talk soon ..."

The call ended.

Jamie let out a long breath. Jenny's friend must have mentioned about Claire being from London. His sister remembered only too well what had happened to him last time he was in a city. 

He'd been in Glasgow to visit a mate and was nearly in an accident after he had one of his episodes while crossing a junction. He'd fallen on to his knees, putting traffic into a standstill, while passersby thought he was just another city junkie, going off his nuts. He'd hoped his fits were behind him, but it seemed they lurked in the background like the monsters under the bed that had kept him up at night waiting for the right time to pounce. If it hadn't been for the kind middle-aged English man, called Harry, stopping to his aid, he wondered what would have happened. Harry had taken him to the hospital, called his family, took his number and then disappeared. 

Once in a while, he would get a call from Harry to check up on his well-being, but every time they talked, Jamie forgot to ask for the man's number, as it didn't show on his phone. It would have been good to know where the Englishman lived so he could send a Christmas card or a souvenir from Scotland. His parents had insisted on inviting Harry to Lallybroch, and every time he relayed the message, the man politely refused.

Jamie let out a resigned breath through his nose and refilled his cup with coffee. Jenny was right about one thing she'd kept on about to him. He wouldn't be able to survive in the city for more than a few hours. But where did that leave his chances of forging a relationship with Claire, the only woman to ever affect him the way she did? He was unsuitable for the outside world, and everyone in Broch Mordha knew it. 

He knew Claire was aware of their attraction by the way she often blushed at his teasing and subtly responded to his kiss last night but would that be enough to convince her to stay? Could she envision herself staying for an unforeseeable future to find out what it was between them? What would that mean for her career? Her dreams? It was early days yet, and they'd only just met. She was here until the Three Kings, and that's if she managed to persuade Annalise to stay and anything could happen between now and then.

He browsed the internet in his laptop, scanning through headline news and answering a few emails. After a while, he wondered where his dog was. Normally, he would be scratching at the door by now, wanting his breakfast. Maybe he got distracted by a critter and went off running across the field. He thought he'd give his dog a few more minutes and then he would go out and look. He had another cup of coffee and answered a few text messages all the while checking the time. He was just tying his running shoes when his phone chirped. He glanced at the screen and smiled.

Claire:  Good morning! If I woke you up, I'm terribly sorry. But I did say I would send you a message. So here I am texting you.

He quickly toed off his shoes, grabbed his coffee and went to the living room. Cup in his hand, he settled himself down on the sofa with a grin.

Jamie:  I'm up. May I call you? 

Claire:  Of course. 

He placed his coffee on the table, hit the phone icon and pressed the phone to his ear. "G'morning Sassenach. Did ye sleep well?" he asked when Claire picked up.

She groaned. "Not really. I might have over-indulged with the alcohol last night. I slept fitfully."

"Were ye thinking about the kiss?" He leaned back on the sofa, put his arm behind his head and smiled.

She didn't respond, but he heard something rustling. There must have been an eye-roll in the ensuing pause.

"Was it that bad, huh?"

"No! I ...was ... I'm sorry, I was trying to unwrap something. Anyway, Annalise hasn't shown up yet."

He knew she was trying to avoid the question and decided not to push. "Oh! Have ye tried calling her?"

"She called already, and she told me she's fine. She stayed in Lallybroch with Willie. She said no taxis were running late at night, and they hadn't noticed the time and your brother couldn't drive because he's had a bit to drink. From what I gathered, Lallybroch is your family home, right?"

That canny bastard!  Willie knew taxis didn't come to Lallybroch after ten p.m. and with his parents staying for the night at his aunt Jocasta's house and his sister and brother-in-law away on holiday in the south of France, Willie and Annalise had the manor house to themselves. "Aye, it is our family home," he finally answered. "It's where I grew up. Was Annalise annoyed?"

"Annoyed?" She sounded surprised. "Why should she be annoyed?"

"Weel, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with my brother, and they've just met. I figured the situation might have unnerved her. "

"No, she wasn't annoyed. If anything, she sounded chipper and was quite chatty. She's normally a morning grump." And then she laughed. "I think having your driving licences sent to Geillis put her mind at ease and felt safe enough to go with your brother. As I did with you too." She said the last sentence almost shyly and quietly.

"I'm glad." Jamie let out a sigh of relief but not before he moved the phone away. He knew he would have been at a disadvantage if Annalise had been miffed about being stranded in Lallybroch. Not that his family's home was far, but it was slightly isolated from the village, and it was two and a half miles away. Without proper street lighting between Lallybroch and Broch Mordha and the temperatures freezing, it would have been an uncomfortable walk back. Fingers-crossed, he hoped Willie and Annalise were getting along fine because it would mean Claire's friend would agree to stay here for their holidays. "So what are yer plans today?"

"Hmmm ...let me see ..."

Her tone was playful, and he could envision a pretty blush creeping from her neck and fanning out to her face. "I hope I'm included in those plans."

"Don't fret. You are." He heard a smile in her voice. "I'm just waiting for Annalise to finally show her face, so I have a clear idea of how the day is supposed to pan out."

He grinned. "Good. Did Annalise tell you what they've been up to?"

"Oh, yes." Jamie heard shuffling in the background again and wondered if she was still in bed and what she was wearing. "She told me they had a quiet evening playing a board game and drinking red wine. Sounds like we had a more exciting evening."

"A board game?"

"Yes. It's funny, really when I think about it. Annalise is more likely to hang out in a crowded place until late. I can't believe she missed the karaoke that was posted in the pub. She loves to sing, and she really has a good voice and ..."

Grabbing his cup, he took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat. "What kind of board game?"

"Umm ...let me think. Annalise said it belongs to your sister and her husband and it sounded something like Monopoly. She said they played for hours."

He almost choked on his coffee.  Ah, fuck ...Willie!  

"You alright?"

"A-aye." He was glad Claire couldn't see the heat spreading across his face. "C-coffee went in the wrong passage," he managed to say.

She let out an adorable giggle, and he heard more shuffling and rustling sound on her end. "Anyway, she kind of explained it roughly and said it has cards and dice. So that's probably why I thought of Monopoly. Hey, maybe we could play it with them. What do you think?"

Ah, bloody hell!  "It's Monogamy ..." he wheezed, putting his cup down on the table and thumping his chest.

Ah, Jesus Christ!  Monogamy board game was a two-player game played by couples with raunchy questions and challenges. He'd found it one night in the hallway cupboard when his family had friends over and was looking for Trivial Pursuit for a night of indoor entertainment. It was hidden behind the stack of other games covered in cloth and labelled  "Jenny's and Ian's - Do Not Touch."  He hadn't realised Willie knew about it. The thought of him and Claire playing it made him hot. He wondered what Claire would think if she knew what it really was.

"Hang on a minute!" He took a few breaths and gulped down the rest of his drink. When he was sure his voice sounded normal again, he grabbed his phone and spoke. "Have ye had breakfast?" he asked, not bothering to answer Claire's question. "I can make us something in a jiffy. I haven't had anything to eat yet."

"Oh, thanks, but I'm having one right now with this handsome chap ..."

He jolted forward and straightened up. "I beg yer pardon?"  Is she teasing me, or is she having breakfast with another bloke while talking to me?

"Oh, um, I'm with a company, actually and I'm waiting for Mrs Fitz to see what we could do about this situation. You see, I got up early, and I read in one of Mrs Fitz's pamphlet, Baker's Dozen was open at seven. So I went for a walk and bought some croissants. On the way back, I met this gorgeous looking fella with the most beautiful grey eyes, and he looked hungry and was following me, so I invited him to have breakfast ..."

"Sassenach!"

"Wot?"

Are ye bloody kidding me?  "Ye cannae just invite someone ye dinnae ken to breakfast just because he looked hungry ..."

"Don't be daft ...he's a charming, cuddly, adorable looking boy."

"Sassenach ..." His voice sounded whiny to his ears.  Ah, fuck!  He wondered who she was having breakfast with, and his mind was already racing, trying to think who could possibly have followed Claire. When he couldn't think of anyone, he shot to his feet and started to shove them back into his running shoes. "I'm coming over right now."

"No, you're not."

"Why not?"

"I'm in my bathrobe."

His heart started to beat faster.  Is this woman who I happen to really like deliriously mad?  "Wh-what? Ye went to the baker's in yer bathrobe?"

"No, silly! It's too cold to be wandering about in a bathrobe. When I got back, I made myself comfortable and dressed down. I have a bath running and will take one soon. But meanwhile, I'm having a bit of breakfast. The water pressure here is not too great, and it's taking ages for the tub to fill up. Don't worry, my guest is very well behaved."

"Behaved?"

"Yeah, he occasionally likes to lick my hand but other than that, he's actually quite mild-mannered."

"Who's with ye, Sassenach?" he asked in a low voice, as he got up from the sofa and made his way to the kitchen. He looked out the window, and when he couldn't see Rollo, he began to grow suspicious.

"Hang on a minute, there's a tag attached to his collar. Umm ...let's see, what do we have here? His name is Rollo."

"That's my dog!"

She let out a throaty laugh. "Oh, that's fine then! I'll keep him with me until I'm done with my bath. And then I'll bring him over to you."

"Why didn't ye tell me it's a dog ye're with?"

"Did I not? I'm sorry I was distracted feeding him croissant with butter. I hope that's alright with you."

"I thought you were having breakfast with another man in yer bathrobe!" His voice held a slightly accusatory tone.

"Well, you thought wrong. So, you're alright with Rollo having croissant with butter? He seems to love it."

He counted backwards, starting from ten, and when he was done, he almost laughed out loud. Knowing Claire didn't mind having his dog around her, made him like her even more. "Aye, that's alright, Sassenach. A wee treat once in a while, never did him harm. Speaking of treats, I could use one too actually."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I'm coming over to tell ye." And then he hung up before she could respond and made a dash out of the door.

      Dear Readers,

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. I made a massive effort to finish it tonight as I really want certain parts of the story to coincide with Christmas. It was a huge challenge, but I got there in the end. The rest of this story is is outlined and ready to be written, and I'm quite excited about it. All I need is to make it come alive in my storytelling. I'm so chuffed about some certain elements (sorry not going to divulge) that I have come up with, I had a proper good girly squeal earlier. Now that I have said it, I hope I haven't set the expectation too high. Just needed to overshare my excitement. haha!

Anyway, thanks muchly for your feedback, kudos and love for the previous chapter. Sending you back best wishes and hope you're all well and healthy. Take care for now. x

#melodyheart #all I want for christmas is you #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Beast Mode {One Shot}***

Florian Munteanu x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUTTTTTY, DO NOT READ AT WORK 

Summary: You’re in a relationship with Florian who has come to the end of his training period in prep for his long-anticipated and publicized match with “Elias “Cutthroat” Morales. The two of you haven’t seen each other in three months because of his trainer’s brutal training practices. You fly in a few hours before the match to wish him luck.

Note: I’ve said this before, I am terrified of this man but here we are. I don't know what that/this says about me but oh well.  This was not asked for at all. SMH

**I have never written Florian, I have no idea about his mannerisms, body language or personality. I am writing this because I cannot stop thinking about it and it is driving me nuts. So, excuse me if this does not fit him exactly. I hope you enjoy the terrifying ride. As always, thank you for reading!!!!

**Image not my own

 ***Not Edited/proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What training would restrict visits from his girlfriend for three months? His trainer. No matter how much he’d protested, begged and bargained he was not budging.

 “No visits until fight night. You need to stay objective and vicious.”

 It was logical but he missed the hell out of you. FaceTime calls were not cutting it anymore, especially when he saw your posts on social media. As an influencer, it was your job to play everything up but from what you posted it looked like he was out of sight and out of mind. It didn’t help matters the comments he’d read under your pictures. They were all from thirsty dudes who loved using their internet fingers to make it seem like they were big and bad. Little did they know he was big and nasty. He’d easily break every bone in their body over you. There was no limit to his possessiveness.

 “Focus!”

 The drill Sergeant like sound of his trainer’s voice snapped him right back to reality. He zeroed in on his sparring partner and bobbed and weaved around the ring evading punches and firing them right back. He’d trained like a beast for the last six months. The last three he’d been pushed past the brink of sanity. He was now so ready for this match that all he saw was him standing victorious covered in his opponent’s blood. Was it vicious? Yeah. Did he care? Nope.

 “Good. Yes! Don’t give him a chance to recover. Yes! Always in kill mode.”

He did one of his fancy moves spun behind his opponent then hammered his sides with everything he had. As they turned to him, he then delivered the final blow, a jaw crushing right hook. Everyone around him cheered and clapped. He ripped the gloves off his hands and checked on the guy he’d just knocked out. The doctors gave him a reassuring look to tell him he’d be fine. Taking their word for it he slipped out the ring and made it over to his trainer who had a pleased look on his face.

 “Morales has no idea what’s in store for him. You’ve shaved off eighteen seconds off of your recovery time, added a full twelve minutes to your stamina, you’re faster than I’ve ever seen you and not to mention that mean in you is at the right level to blow. This match is yours.”

 He felt it too. He felt like he was in the best physical shape of his life. He was focused and had his eye on the prize. The only thing missing was you.

 “Hit the showers, get back to the hotel and I’ll send over the massage therapist to loosen up those muscles and have a good meal. Tomorrow you go from sixty-eight and ten to sixty-nine and ten!”

 As he packed up his bag he nodded he liked the sound of that. Deciding to just grab a shower at the hotel he ducked into his waiting car and stretched out in the backseat. He was ready for a little break. At the thought of that, he thought of you. he took out his phone and found your contact to see your recent message from last night, a picture of yourself cuddled in the bed of the house you shared together. He could tell you weren’t wearing anything and every muscle in his body flexed aggressively.

 “Push it away, focus,” he chanted to himself. It was a chant whenever he felt biology taking over. He was but a man.

 MSG: I’m sorry I missed this last night. I had to be up for my last practice. Don’t be mad.

 A few minutes passed before a response came in.

 MSG Y/N: It’s okay. I get it, Big Nasty has to be aggressive, be be aggressive.

 He snorted.

 MSG: Really?

MSG Y/N: I’m your biggest cheerleader babe. I miss you.

 Your words felt good to know. Usually, when he went into disappear training mode your relationship struggled. You wanted him around to share everyday things with, to be with but he wasn’t anywhere there. You said sometimes you felt like you were single and hated it but maybe you should go act like it too. It was the root of many arguments between the two of you, but neither of you ever let go.

 MSG: I miss you so fucking much it’s insane.

MSG Y/N: How much?

MSG: I can’t even use words.

MSG Y/N: Then what would you use to show me?

 Again, his muscles tensed and all he could think about was showing you how much he missed you. In seconds he was hard.

  “Fuck!”

 He resisted the urge to palm his length and tried to focus on his breathing.

 MSG: Chill, babe. I’m already hard.

MSG Y/N: Really? Show me. Please. I haven’t seen a dick in months.

 He could hear the whine in your words. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he did it anyway. Slipping his sweats a few inches lower he allowed his hardness to flop out. He was getting harder. He took a picture of himself and sent it to you.

 MSG Y/N: Damn baby. It’s beautiful. I miss it so much.

MSG: He misses you.

 A groan escaped him and showed him how close he was to losing himself. Slipping his meat back inside his sweats he sat up and worked to shrug off the arousal you’d brought on him.

 MSG: When this is done let’s take a trip. Anywhere you wanna go.

MSG Y/N: Okay. Let’s do it.

 You were always down to indulge his love of traveling. He worked hard and took a lot for the job and liked to unwind just as hard. As he approached the hotel he let you know his intentions for the night before ending your conversation.

 When he made it up to his room he wasted no time getting in the shower and letting the hot water work magic on his muscles. You were still on his mind and made it even more difficult to get through without touching himself. He caught himself three times. The first he didn’t even realize it until he grunted out your name. He looked down to find his cock in his hand. The second time he caught himself before he gripped his length and the third he stopped the thought.

 He didn’t know what the hell had come over him, but he had better find a way to get a grip especially this close to the match. His coach and trainer were both unanimously against any sort of pleasure while training and before a match. They didn’t care about the toll it took on his relationship, they cared about the end goal. He’d done this before and each time you were a trooper with accepting it, but this felt different. This time was harder for you, harder for him too.

 When he got out of the shower his meal was waiting. He settled in front of the tv and watched videos of Elias Morales fight. This was his pre-match routine the biggest plate of pasta and studying his opponent. You didn’t have a record like his by just floating through matches. He was meticulous if nothing else, he trained, plotted, and prepared then executed.

 An hour later he got a message letting him know his massage therapist would be there soon. Pausing the latest video, he stripped down and went over to the massage table and laid there waiting. As he waited he continued the video. He was so focused on it he didn’t hear when the masseuse entered. It was only when he saw her feet it registered.

 “I think deep Swedish should work tonight,” he suggested. She didn’t answer. He was about to turn around when he felt the hot oil drip across his back. The next thing he felt were small hands begin their work of rubbing him down and kneading out knots.

 Every night this week there had been a different masseuse, a different one he had to tell just what he liked. As he was about to open his mouth to let her know he liked some pressure along his spine but not at the tail of his spine she beat him to it by doing just that. A long moan slipped from him, it felt good. The masseuse continued her work and expertly kneaded his back muscles with the right amount of pressure and the right alternating techniques. It was like they knew just what he liked. Small hands went lower to his waist and gently massaged him there. The next place he felt her hands were his calves, she squeezed as her hands slid down to his ankles.

 “God yes!” His body was quickly relaxing.

 Thirty minutes more found him completely relaxed with muscles that didn’t hold an ounce of tension in them.

 “Turn.” Not paying attention he flipped over to find a hot towel drop across his face.

 “Breathe it in, eucalyptus, rose, lavender, coconut oil, and lemon. The right recipe for relaxation and optimal pore health.” He laid there and inhaled the aromas coming from the towel and found himself relaxing even more. This was almost just what he needed. It would have to do.

 The same small hands began rubbing his chest down spending focus on his pec muscles before slowly gliding over his abs. This is where the hands slowed even more. There was no massage patterns to her movements now. When he began to move to take the towel off she moved her hands to his thighs and forcefully massages into them. It was enough to throw him off. Another twenty minutes passed before he heard a feminine moan in the air, a moan that did not belong to him. Quickly he ripped the towel off his face and sat up to see you standing beside him.

 “Y/N?”

 “Surprise!” Seconds passed before he pulled you into his arms and hugged you.

 “Oh my god, what’re you doing here?”

 “I missed you like really missed you. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow night. I needed to see you, baby.” He smiled and pulled her back into his arms. He felt the same way.

 “I missed you too. Shit, this one was worse than all the others before,” he expressed as you pressed your forehead to his.

 “It was. I hate this, but I love you so much.” Your lips met for a sweet peck, but one peck turned to two and three and before either of you knew it you were full-on making out. You moaned on his mouth and his hardness instantly returned with a vengeance. You bit his bottom lip and softly raked your nails up and down his back.

 “Don’t do that babe, please.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “If Hugo found you here he’d be so pissed.”

 “I don’t care. I’ve followed every rule for two years. I’ve never protested. I’m protesting now. I want to see my man.” He smiled, he loved hearing you call him that. When you introduced him he always felt cocky when you called him your man. He didn’t know why.

 “You’ve been a good girl,” he said as he stroked your hair down your back.

 “I’ve been such a good girl, baby. What do I get as a reward?”

 A smile spread across his face and every nasty thing flashed through his head.

 “What do you want, love?”

 You tipped your tongue out and licked across his lips then softly nibbled his bottom lip all while staring in his eyes.

 “You. I want you, baby. I always want you—just you.”

 He didn’t need to hear anything else. He crashed his lips to yours and took control of the kiss. He only intended for it to be a kiss, only intended for it to go so far. After a few minutes, he stood and lifted you into his arms. When you wrapped your legs around his waist his body made the decisions from then on. He turned and dropped you onto the massage table and quickly pulled off the dress you wore. He lost it when he realized you had on his favorite colored lace.

 “Fuck!”

 You spread your legs wider and bit your bottom lip. You were giving him access and permission. He couldn’t think, any possibility for logical thought was gone. He kissed you briefly then dropped his lips to your neck and sucked and teased the skin there. He knew you liked when he did it. You smelled incredible, a scent he hadn’t smelled in months, a scent that was making it impossible to control himself. His lips moved lower over your skin and latched onto your lace-clad breast. He sucked and bit your nipple through the material and enjoyed every mewl that fell from you.

 When your hands hugged his head to you he sucked more forcefully.

 “Yes baby. Oh god yes.”

 He wrestled with the hooks of your bra and normally this would have been an easy task, but right now he didn’t have the patience it required. Gripping the material, he pulled it apart popping the clasps but freeing your breasts. He cupped them in his hands and feasted on each pert nipple for several long minutes. When he crouched between your legs he pulled your ass to the edge and stared at you.

 “Don’t stop baby, please. Put your name on it.”

 He growled out and grabbed a fistful of your underwear and ripped it clear off of you. Your moan of approval sent him over the edge of control. His lips connected with your sex and sucked. His intention was not to go slow, not to tease and not to waste any time. He needed this and he knew you did too. He slurped and devoured your flesh and relished in the unique taste of you. He’d missed your taste, missed the sounds you made when he did just what he knew would drive you crazy, missed how you reacted to him like a flame. At the root of it, he missed you. Your screamed signaled your orgasm. He was pleased you’d found your first release, but he had plans for many more.

 He stood but before he could sheath himself you slipped off the massage table and to your knees. You pulled the towel from around his waist and came eye to eye with what you wanted. The look on your face spoke of how ravenous you were. You lowered your mouth over his length and took him fully into your mouth as far as he could go. He growled out again and held your head in place. His hips moved thrusting in and out of your mouth slowly at first but when goosebumps broke out across his skin he sped up. soon you were gagging and slurping with every snap of his hips. You were always good at swallowing every inch of him. Before he lost it he pulled you up and threw you over the table with your ass poking out to him.

 They say the first touch is the sweetest but for him, the first feel of you around him was almost too much for him. He hovered over your back and letting the shake go through him. With each inch he slipped inside of you, you clenched around him. With a few more inches to go, he slammed into you making you scream out.

 “Fuck Flo!” Your body shook through its second release. He was just getting started.

 From the start he set the only pace he could, the only pace his body could tolerate—fast. He slammed into you with bruising thrusts that had purpose. He had to remind you who was daddy, and who truly owned this pussy.

 “Fuck Y/N, you’re so fucking tight. Yes! This pussy missed daddy?” You nodded but he wanted to hear the words.

 “Tell me. Did my pussy miss me?”

 “Fuck, yes, it missed you, daddy. It missed you so much.” He pushed your head lower with one hand and gripped your hip with the other then jackhammered into you. your screams were loud, but soon they turned raspy and desperate. You were always the only one that could take all of him. The only one who came close to crippling him with pleasure.

 He grabbed your thighs and twisted you around, so you laid on your back with your thighs spread wide. God, he loved this view. He pulled out and sucked on your clit for a few moments before he tasted you as you came right in his mouth. You wrapped your thighs around his head and rode the wave of your third orgasm. When he tried to untangle himself, you weren’t having it. He almost laughed, you wanted to get rough. Forcefully he obliged, pulling your legs open, pressing them back to the table. He lined up his throbbing cock with your core and locked eyes with you. From the look in your eyes, he knew you knew what he intended to do.

 “Whose pussy is this Y/N?”

 “Yours baby.”

 “Whose?”

 “Yours daddy. Fuck this pussy—own this pussy.”

He snapped his hips forward and connected your bodies to the hilt. He could feel every inch of you inside and the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head you loved it. From the pace and force of his thrusts, the massage table shook as if it were on its last legs. He didn’t care. He was voracious.

 “This pussy is mine, mine, mine, mine!” his only focus was finding that release, he knew he’d taken care of you. Changing the angle, he held you, he turned you to your side and held your leg in the air but continued plowing into you.

 He wanted to come so bad, but he couldn’t. It was something he’d experienced before. He was so backed up that physically and psychologically he wasn’t in sync. It was normal for training and competing and normal for the first few weeks after. He held tightly to you and held you in the air and continued pumping into you.

 “Shit, shit!”

 “How does this dick feel baby?”

 “So fucking good.”

 You kissed him and began bouncing on him using his body as the anchor. He groaned and leaned against whatever he found close by and allowed you to fuck him. His moans and grunts fell from him one after the other and he didn’t care if you knew just what you were doing to him. It was never a secret. After a few minutes, he rose his hips up meeting you halfway.

 “Oh my god! I’m gonna come, baby, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!” He loved hearing those words. Using both hands he held you still and plowed into you and chased the release he’d denied himself for six months. The closer he got the louder he was, the louder he was the harder he fucked you. It was all a chain reaction that fueled and fed you both.

 In a matter of minutes, he was having tunnel vision and knew he was close. He turned and pressed you against what he thought was a wall but was really one of the floor to ceiling windows. He didn’t care enough to stop. You helped him and rode onto him as he thrusted. It didn’t take long before you came again and pulled his long overdue orgasm from him. He shouted loudly as he came and filled you up with every last drop of the love he’d been saving for you.

 A few minutes later when you both had come down a little from your release, he realized though he’d come he was still rock hard. He needed more. When you realized it, your eyes filled with excitement and a hint of tease.

 “Can you take what you’ve unleashed?”

 “I can take this dick anytime, anywhere, for however long daddy.” His smile was wide. He didn’t expect anything less from you.

 “You’re daddy’s nasty girl. Let’s see if you remember how nasty daddy likes it.”

 “Beast mode daddy?”

 “Make sure you can take it.” You didn’t answer, instead, you kissed him and clenched around him giving the only answer he needed. It was going to be a long night.

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[strangest-loser]

Criminal minds Rewrite

Oh Ophelia - Spencer Reid X OC - Prologue

Masterlist / Soundtrack (Spotify) / Character Board

*This story will be heavily based on a soundtrack that will be influenced by the story, each chapter will correspond to a song on the soundtrack and while listening to them isn’t necessary I highly recommend it. - Aoife*

Chapter song: Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears For Fears

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Red coated her vision as she struggled against the pair of arms drawing her deeper and deeper under water, she couldn’t see anything except red. The air was leaving her lungs forcefully as the pressure is weighing oh her head, a flash of blonde appearing in front of her as she finally stops struggling letting the abyss swallow her whole.

It was, in her opinion, way too early for Lily to be startled awake by the ungodly squawk of the white alarm clock next to her head and a pair of bodies laying on her chest, a plush blonde paw swiping at her nose looking for attention. It took three attempts of slapping the clock into silence and lifting herself into a sitting position staring down through half lidded eyes at the two curious faces. Beatrice and Katrina stared back at her, eyes wide and tails swishing before the inevitable mewls of hunger erupted from their tiny bodies that were looking for breakfast. Getting out from under her warm cocoon was hard for her whenever she had that nightmare, it was recurring and it really rattled her, but she really had no idea where it came from. Walking across the icy floor boards of her old ass DC apartment into the kitchen never got easier, she was accompanied by two puff balls at her feet before they both took their seats on the bar stools, both cats knew not to sit on the counters, but they were full time ‘little shits’ so they decided to get as close as possible to breaking the rule, Beatrice got brave once and placed a single white paw on the grey marble while staring Lily down who was watching her from the door... poor girl forgot what the treat bag sounded like, she knew not to mess with mama after that. After the furry divas were given their bowls the shower was ran and Lily got herself ready for her day. A freshly washed cream shirt was tucked into her favorite black midi skirt. Her chestnut hair scooped into a ponytail and finally her black jacket and boots were slipped on at the door and checking the water bowls for her girls she grabbed her keys, satchel and umbrella before she dipped out into the Washington DC rain.

 Photographs blinked on and off the screen as she stared out onto the class of freshman agents in training, the class she would have been in had it not been for the man who was giving the lecture, standing off to the side almost out of sight she listened as Gideon spoke of a previous case. “Does anyone recognize these faces?” he asked the class of 60, all of which looked vaguely uncomfortable at the images presented to them of the victims corpses. Lily knew, but she wasn’t going to say anything just yet. Finally, a girl Lily knew named Kasey piped up, “Victims of the footpath killer”. Lily’s mouth hitched into a smile at that answer knowing that Gideon didn’t like to name unsubs. “That’s what Virginia newspapers are calling him, but we refer to him as the unknown subject or UNSUB. I told Virginia PD they are looking for a white male in his 20s who owns an American made truck, disrepair, works a menial job. I told them when you find him, don’t be surprised to hear him speak with a severe stutter.” Another girl Lily knew, Inez, put her hand up to question him. “Not to sound skeptical but come on, a stutter?” Gideon’s eyes fell to his TA who was still leaning against the wall of the lecture hall, eyes meeting her hazel ones as she stepped forward to answer now that Gideon had given her the floor. “Where did the murders occur? on hiking paths. Its isolated. He’s a killer who had to use an immediate application of overpowering force out in the middle of nowhere, he lacks confidence. He can’t charm them into his car like Ted Bundy did, none of us ladies would feel compelled enough to go just about anywhere with someone who sounds like a jammed printer so he would have to be ashamed of something, case in point, a stutter.” she joked pulling a laugh out of the trainees in the lecture hall. “Nothing against speech impediments,” she clarified with a wink and a cheeky grin. Her statement was answered by the door to her right slamming open and Hellooo~ an adorable, lanky brunette man creeps in looking at Gideon before tapping on a case file. Lily tore her eyes away from the cute intruder and smiled, Gideon really needed a win after his last case and she could tell that his ‘Extended Medical Leave’ was driving him nuts. Gideon dismissed the lecture before looking at Lily and motioning for her to follow him. That’s never happed before but Lily knew better than to question him. “Class dismissed, go eat a cookie you guys deserve it!” She called following the other two out of the door.

“They are calling him ‘The Seattle Strangler’ four victims in four months, keeps them alive for seven days, the handle acts as a crank” The man she knew of as Dr. Reid, the genius of the academy informed the two as they all marched down the hallways of Quantico. “Allowing them to control the rate of suffocation” she piped up examining the crime scene photo he was holding. Reid looked at the stranger that Gideon had brought with him “To prolong it?” he questioned her observation. “To enjoy it” was Gideon’s answer before launching back into schematics. “Seattle has hit a wall?” Reid nodded “Physical evidence is non existent, there are no tangible leads.” Gideon stopped then and pulled the Crime scene photo closer to himself and Lily. “Another girl is missing.” He muttered before marching into his office the two brunets following him. Lily spent a lot of time in this office over the last two years. Gideon hand plucked her out of her Criminal Psychology class at UCI at 18 years old and to this day it was still a mystery to her, sure she was intelligent but she was well aware that she was not God’s gift to the FBI, she was just as good as everybody else in the academy so why Gideon decided to bring her under his wing was lost on her. She asked him once and he only smiled at her and answered with “I’m trusting my gut” and she was smart enough to know that she wasn’t going to get an answer any clearer than that out of him so she stopped asking and just took the opportunity as the blessing it was. She finished her Irvine degree while she completed her training at the academy and she was fast tracking her was straight to graduating later that year at age 20, beating out Dr. Reid's record of 22, but she knew realistically that was because he enrolled at the academy at a later age than she did. Gideon defiantly had to pull in some favors to get her in at her young age but her written test scores exceeded expectations and her physical exam fell well within the parameters to qualify so she was accepted to the academy under the direct watch of SSA Jason Gideon meaning if she messed up its his neck on the line. Lily took this seriously as a result and was thriving under his guidance.

Just as she took up her seat on the couch against the wall adjacent to the desk two other agents she didn’t really know yet entered and spoke directly to Gideon, not yet noticing the girl curled up in the corner, her legs tucked up underneath her skirt as she motioned for Dr. Reid to hand her the photograph one last time, he did and loomed over she shoulder trying to spot what she was looking at, if she was seeing something they weren't. She was trying not to notice just how close the attractive genius was getting to her. “You’re gonna be in Seattle with us ASAP.” announced the raven haired serious man who was now standing in the room with his partner, Lily was well aware of who SSA Aaron Hotchner was. Gideon looked reserved as he took off his reading glasses and moved forward to take the picture of the missing girl the stranger was holding out for him. Lily rose from her nest in the corner and joined him, not missing the odd looks she got from the two BAU agents. “23 year old Heather Woodland, before she left for lunch she downloaded an email with a time delayed virus attached.” Hotchner spoke before the one man she didn’t know piped up again “The killer’s virus wiped her hard drive and left this on the screen.” He handed Gideon another photograph who took one look at it before handing it to Lily, he really seemed determined to get her involved so she took it. The words on the photo were extremely familiar to her as she had read them countless times in the case files Gideon made her study inside out. “For heavens sake stop me before I kill more I cannot control myself.” she read aloud before waltzing to the wall without looking up and holding the picture up to another in a glass frame which read the same exact same words, ‘William Heirens, The Lipstick Killer, 1945.’ written under it.

“He never keeps them for more than seven days which means we have fewer than thirty six hours to find her.” Hotchner spoke, his tone grave and serious, Lily wondered if that’s what he always sounded like. “They want you back in the saddle” came the strangers voice once again and Lily’s gaze shot to her mentor as his face filled with what looked to her like fear, no, apprehension. “Looks like medical leave is over boss” she cracks pulling a smile out of the young doctor standing at the back of the room. Gideon faced Hotchner, “You’re sure they want me?” he asks deadly serious. “The order came from the director.” Gideon then faced Lily dead on prompting the other three men to look at the young woman as Gideon addressed her “Up for some on the job training?” Lily clearly showed the shock on her face as Hotchner began to object to the idea of having someone as young as Lily on the case but Gideon shot him down immediately “My only condition is that she comes with us. She’s my star pupil and I want her with me.” The raven haired man began to look the girl over and Lily steeled her gaze, challenging Hotchners own as he finally nodded and made it very clear that she was Gideon’s responsibility. The agent nodded and let his gaze fall back onto the picture Lily had pointed out earlier. “Then we better get started.”

Joseph Conrad said “The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."

The SUV pulled up onto the tarmac of the airstrip as Gideon piled out of it quickly followed by Lily who had just enough time to race home, pack a bag and drop Beatrice and Katrina off with her neighbor Annalise and make it back in time to get going. She followed behind the other agents falling into step with Reid before she reached the top of the steps and looked back out at SSA Hotchner who was talking to a female agent the two were speaking before both looked directly at her before talking once more. Lily knew this was her one shot that she couldn’t mess up, Gideon was already going to get weird questions for bringing her along without her accidentally falling flat on her ass in a crime scene or something. She seated herself in the seat across from Reid for the debrief as the plane took off. No going back now.

“First victim was 26 year old Melissa Kirsch, stab wounds, strangulation-” Reid was listing off the facts from the case file in his hands before he was cut off by who Lily learned in the car was SSA Derek Morgan “Wait back up back up, he stabbed her, then strangled her to finish her off?” “Other way around” Gideon corrected before asking Reid “Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?” Lily instead piped up with an answer like that annoying kid in the class who doesn’t know when to shut up. “Strangulation with your bare hands would take too long and is harder to complete effectively, he probably started out with that before switching to the belt-” “And then stabbed her out of impatience” Morgan finished her thought with a nod. “Then realized he would be hours cleaning up the blood.” Came Hotchners input. “So next time my boys got a method, the belt.” Morgan concluded pulling a nod from the rest of the group. “He’s learning,” Gideon pointed out, “Perfecting his scenario, becoming a better killer.” The debrief concluded and everyone went back to doing their own thing trying to fill the time before they reached Seattle. 

Lily was comfortable in the seat she picked so she didn’t feel compelled to move to the back of the plane to sit with Gideon, plus she wanted to give him a break, she felt bad that (in her mind) everyone seemed to paint her as this inconvenient child that he was babysitting when she knew that she could handle this case. Gideon was more of a father to her than her own one is right now, so she was going to make him proud. She curled up similarly to how she did in the office pulling her legs up out of sight and curling into the seat behind her, pulling an old, well loved copy of ‘Hamlet’ out of her satchel and opening it back up to where she left off, where Hamlet was unleashing his feigned madness unto a confused Ophelia. “I take it you are a fan of the classics?” came a voice breaking the silence and she looked up only to meet Reid’s gaze as he gestured to the book in her hands. “Oh, yeah I love Shakespeare, as you can clearly see” she said with a friendly smile holding up the book with clear tape holding together the paperback spine together and its yellowed pages. “To die, to sleep-” The man in front of her began to quote from memory before Lily joined in to complete the line, “To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...” the two laughed softly at their synchronicity before silence fell again broken quickly by Lily who desperately wanted to keep the conversation going, “Its funny my mother wanted to give me a Shakespearian name but my dad thought they were too old fashioned and worried that I would be bullied so they settled on Ophelia as my middle name.” she informed him her eyes drifting to look at her fingers which suddenly became very interesting, she really didn’t like talking about her family. Her drop in happiness at the thought of her parents and sisters was immediately picked up on by Gideon and by Reid, her mentor was quick to call her over to him and Lily left her spot with a quiet “excuse me” before sitting with Gideon. So much for that conversation she wanted. “You will have to tell them about her eventually, it’s not something you can avoid when they work with her.” He pointed out to the girl and she sighed softly but knew he was right. “I will, when the opportunity arises, I’m only an acting agent on this case and these people are strangers to me, they don’t need to know my life story.” She explained, and with that silence resumed and the flight was spent with Lily’s nose in her book.

It surprisingly wasn’t raining when the five of them reached the FBI Northwest Field Office hours later, Lily walked in at Gideon’s side having swapped her blouse and skirt combo out for her black leggings, white t-shirt and royal blue UC Irvine sweatshirt, her combat boots and an FBI jacket and badge that Gideon handed her once they got off the plane, items he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. Walking ahead of the others she could still hear them talking about Gideon, Morgan commenting on his PTSD and if she could hear them then Gideon definitely could, it their gossip angered him he didn’t show it as they opened the glass doors into a bullpen full of field agents. “This is Special Agent Gideon, Special Agent Morgan our expert on obsessional crimes, Special Agent Reid-” Hotchner was cut off by Gideon,”Dr. Reid, our expert on everything” which pulled a few laughs “and Agent Jareau.” Well there's the opportunity she was looking for... she was gonna have to talk to him when this case was over...

Lily’s introduction caused both Morgan and Reid to look at her with matching confused and bewildered expressions to which she just mouthed ‘I’ll tell you later’, “and after years busting my butt in this office I hope you remember me.” Hotchner finished bringing the attention away from Lily once more. “He’s willing to travel with a body”, Gideon pointed out becoming transfixed by the crime scene board in front of him as the other three men hopped back and forth bouncing ideas and explaining certain behaviors that the unsub displayed. “When did the bureau become involved with the case?” was Hotchner’s next question to which a nameless agent answered “After the fourth victim, he crossed state lines.” “He did it on purpose.” came Lily’s feminine voice standing out against the group of men she was with. “Knowledge of law enforcement does suggest a criminal record.” Reid backed up her point before walking away to observe another board. Lily’s mind began to race with information as she took in all the evidence hung up around her, she only tuned back in when Morgan spoke “An accurate profile by four o’clock today?” “Won’t be a problem.” was Gideon’s response before he pointed to a photo on a board by the door. “We start at the site of the last murder.” Lily made to walk out the door after Gideon but was halted in her path by Morgan and Reid. She knew she really wasn’t gonna get out of this so she sighed before grabbing both men by their wrists and pulling them into the empty corridor to the left of the bullpen. “Okay, your media liaison, Jennifer, she is my sister.” stating the obvious didn’t seem to cut it. “JJ never mentioned a sister.” Reid told their small group and Lily knew she wasn’t going to escape this without a deeper explanation. “JJ left for Georgetown at 18, I was only 12, she never called or came home for the holidays, I haven’t seen her since her high school graduation. She abandoned me!” Lily so desperately wanted to confide in anyone who wasn’t Gideon but she stopped herself by remembering that these men were strangers and that would be oversharing. “We don’t talk.” was all she mumbled, her voice getting smaller, she didn’t like talking about her sister who practically abandoned her the first chance she got. “Oh, and she doesn’t know I’m in the FBI... So that’s gonna be an interesting talk if I ever see her at Quantico.”

Pulling up to the crime scene was a surreal feeling for Lily. Sure she had seen all the photographs and case files and she had been to plenty of mockup ones for her assessments but her first real crime scene weighed on her and solidified one thought in her mind, this was where she was meant to be, she was gonna find this sick son of a bitch and save that girl. Gideon was calm and calculated walking around the dump site, like his mind was piecing together an exact replication of what probably happened here. “22 year old Anne Cushing was found right here” Morgan’s voice broke the concentration of the two and Lily looked away from the police taped grave to give the agent her full attention. “Her nails were clipped just like the others.” Lily let the information sit with her, “He wants them to fight back, but not enough to hurt him.” she adds. “And he left the belt around her neck.” Gideon reminded the two before looking around some more, “He was probably in his early 20s.” Mentor then turned to mentee “Lily go with Hotch and Reid to speak to Heather’s brother.” and with only a nod she began to trek back up towards ground level and hops into the waiting SUV next to Reid before it drives off. A sharp gaze burned into the side of her head as she stared out the window at the passing streets, she knew it was Hotchner watching her, he was analyzing her, trying to figure out why Gideon was so insistent on the girl joining the case, as if Lily hadn’t been asking herself that already. A polite nod was sent his way when she locked eyes with the serious man and that seemed to knock the staring off for the duration of the car ride. Maybe if she just stared him down too he might feel a little less intimidating, maybe. The door opened and Lily was immediately tackled by a large golden Labrador, sure she was a cat person but who doesn’t love dogs too. A scratch behind the ears was all it took for the dog to be pulled back into the house by the man we were here to see. After introductions were made inside the home the dog began to bark at Reid who looked mildly uncomfortable pulling a tiny smirk onto Lily’s face. “Sandy no!, I am so sorry.” came the apologies which were instantly shut down by Hotchner. “Oh no it’s ok, its what we call the Reid effect, it happens with children too.” Lily stifled a laugh at the jab at Reid, alright so mister serious was capable of humor, noted. Lily began to look around the room while the three men spoke and she was near silent in her observing until she spotted a magazine laid on top of a pile of papers on the table, “David does your sister drive a Datsun Z?” she asked facing the man in question. “No but she’s in the market for one, how did you know?” Lily didn’t answer but held the magazine up for the other agents to see. Hotchner approached her as Heather’s brother left the room with a now fussy Sandy and the trio huddled as Lily continued her theory. “There is an immediate relationship established between a buyer and seller, a level of trust, if I want to get a young woman into my car-” “you offer her a test drive.” Hotch finished the thought and nodded, a look of recognition in his eyes.

“Ok, so how about on one hand we have paranoid psychosis, but the autopsy says what?” Morgan questions pacing the empty bullpen asides from Lily, who was spinning her chair as they discussed the profile, and the rest of the team. “Adhesive residue shows he wrapped layers of duct tape around his victims eyes,” Reid added from his seat next to Lily. “He clearly wants to kill them, but he still covers their eyes, he doesn’t want them looking at him. But then he takes the body and dumps them out in the open with the murder weapon nearby.” Lily tuned out Morgan as she began to piece together all of the parts in her mind, different theories and pieces of evidence ran through her brain as she shifted through the information, the noise in the room was drowned out as she finally connected the red strings in her mind. Bingo. She stood quickly enough to give her whiplash as she called out for Gideon who looked her in the eyes and nodded. “Hotch tell them we’re ready.” was all he said before he strode out of the room with Lily following close behind ignoring the protests from Morgan.  The briefing room was dark as Gideon gave the profile, seemingly we had both come to the same conclusion about the profile and it wasn’t long before law enforcement and agents alike were exiting the room with his newfound information. Lily strode up to meet him at the top of the room and he spoke to her in hushed tones. “You passed your firearms evaluation yes?” he asked and with a nod from her he continued, “You’re going in, Hotch tells me an agent Greenaway is on her way, and its gonna take female agents to get his guard down.” SSA Elle Greenaway was the only agent who Lily knew apart from Gideon, she had met her during her academy training and knew she had a background in sex crimes, they got along so this shouldn’t be too difficult.

It was dark walking up the steps to the house listed as the suspects address and a quick background check of family history showed him to be the only male in the household. The rest was easy. Elle knocked on the door and when it opened to reveal an old lady with a nasal cannula and a woman with a baby girl in her arms Elle immediately launched into their pre-determined cover to lure Richard Slessman, the suspect, out of his home. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you this time of night but I’m housesitting with my sister and when we got back the door was open and the lights weren’t working.” Elle spoke with apprehension trying to play up the fear that someone might be in the house. Lily then piped up “We feel really stupid asking this but is there any chance there is someone who could take a look inside with us?” Their ruse clearly worked because the old lady immediately called out for Richard. Once the guy came downstairs Lily wanted to physically shudder under his gaze because he really wasn’t hiding his leering gaze, then again the more Lily thought of it obviously he would be creepy, he liked to murder girls for shits and giggles. Creeping into the empty house that they had gotten permission to use by the owners Lily walked just behind Richard keeping her hand trained on her concealed Glock 17 talking her cue from Elle she brought her gun out and nocked off the safety and as soon as the other SWAT members revealed themselves Lily immediately trained her pistol on Richard as Elle took him down in one swift movement arresting him. As soon as the handcuffs clicked into place around his wrists Lily replaced the safety and put her gun away as Elle passed their suspect off to another Swat member and turned to Lily with a proud smile, “You did great.” Lily beamed at her friend before she started nodding. “Does the whole gun thing always make your adrenaline skyrocket or is that just me?” she joked causing Elle to laugh and pull her into a hug. 

“I know this is an extremely difficult time for you and your family Mrs Slessman but we appreciate your cooperation.” Lily finished up her interviews with the family and approached the others who were speaking in the hallway. “Family didn’t have a clue, apparently he has been acting out and generally being creepy since the death of his mother, they thought it was just hormones at first but clearly crazy doesn’t end with puberty.” Lily reported to the group of them following them through the house. Gideon spoke to Elle as Lily followed the others in examining the room, her attention brought back when Elle spoke. “Actually I want Hotch to lead the interview.” Gideon looked pensive for a minute before leaving the room. “Next time show a little leg,” Morgan joked at Elle causing both women to roll their eyes. “Wow, real classy there Derek.” Lily patted his shoulder before winking at Elle and climbing the stairs with the other two agents in tow. 

Watching Gideon talk with this guy was unnerving, he was smart, but insanely creepy, not to mention the words coming out of his mouth were throwing Lily off, something was wrong, this guy wasn’t the unsub, or at least not alone. Lily walked out of the room and around to the side of the house, Gideon and Richard’s eyes following her as she left. She was soon followed by Gideon and Hotchner, who immediately noticed how agitated she was, her thoughts running 50 miles an hour. “What is it Lily,” Gideon asked keeping his eyes trained on the young woman who was pacing in the grass. “This feels wrong, he isn’t our murderer.” She spoke continuing her rhythmic pacing, it helped her think. “What woman would willingly get into a car with him, he’s unsettling, there is no way he could abduct over four women only using a car, a tacky car at that, when he comes across like that.” Gideon thought over what she was saying with a nod. “He said ‘Isn’t she the girl?’, if she were dead he would have said-” “wasn’t she?” Hotch chimed in. “She’s still alive but we don’t know for how long.” Lily finally ceased her pacing immediately drawing the attention of both men in front of her. “There’s an error in the profile, two different behaviors.” she looked at Hotch who finished her theory “Two different people, she’s right.” 

Lily was left with Morgan at the house while the others went back to the field office. He was in the other room talking on the phone to their technical analyst about getting into Slessman’s laptop, but so far no dice. Walking into the bathroom Lily looks around before opening the medicine cabinet mirror revealing a pill bottle prescribed to Richard, sleeping tablets. “Hey Morgan,” she sang walking back into the bedroom where the man was standing and handing him the bottle “Seems Richie here has trouble sleeping.” Morgan takes the pill bottle from her hand before walking over to his bed, CD’s litter the room on every surface and Morgan gets the idea to try and shuffle through them. Not too long after that Reid shows up which puts a smile on Lily’s face, she is really beginning to enjoy the young doctor’s company. It really didn’t take long before Reid was asking for the hair pin holding Lily’s baby hairs back and he jimmied the disk drive open. “His password is ‘ENTER SANDMAN’.” The Doctor concludes holding up the worn Metallica cd. Grainy computer video feed popped up on the screen showing a very much still alive Heather Woodland. “Well great, now we just need to figure out where she is.”

The next few minutes was spent with the trio bouncing ideas while watching the screen for any sudden movements, but got nothing until Lily spotted something near nonexistent on the screen, seemingly so did Reid. “Wait pause, Reid did you see that?” she sputtered pointing at the light fixture in the video feed. “Yeah I did, Morgan pull up the last 12 frames side by side.” the genius asked pointing out how the light changed positions, the exact observation Lily had made. It took 3 seconds for the lightbulb to hit her. “Holy shit that’s it!” she yelled before grabbing her phone. The ringing of her mobile gave out to a swift “Talk to me.” 

“Gideon they’re on a boat, probably a dock or a marina nearby, were gonna get Hotchner to find out which one, hang tight.” she said all in one breath before hanging up without an answer. “Excited much.” chuckled Morgan but she just nudged his side and let him call Hotchner with what they found. “That was a nice find Jareau.” Reid mumbled looking Lily in the eyes for the first time since the two had met. She found herself letting a tiny smile onto her lips at the compliment, “Thanks but you spotted it too, you’re good at this.” she paused “And please, it’s Lily, Jareau is my sister.” she joked pulling a small laugh out of the man next to her. It felt weird to talk about JJ to anyone who wasn’t her mom, since their dad had left them and gotten remarried. Morgan walked back in startling the two back into the present. “Did he get a hit?” she asked eagerly, she really wanted to get Heather back safely so she was getting antsy. “Yeah, they’re at a shipyard 10 miles from here, Gideon and Elle are almost there now.” The brief relief was extinguished when the video feed altered and their unsub was dragging Heather Woodland out of the cage. The next few minutes were tense and the trio only relaxed when Morgan’s phone rang. 

“They got her.”

The plane ride back to Quantico was silent as the three youngest slept soundly, Morgan sleeping upright across from Reid who was napping stretched out on the longer sofa and Lily who was curled up in the seat across from Gideon, book still in hand. The mentor watched as she slept, he was incredibly proud of how she handled the case and even managed to greatly contribute like he had no doubt she would, and with time he knew she would be as good as anyone else on his team, if not better. “Hey.” It was Aaron Hotchner who softly broke Gideon out of his thoughts. “Did you and Hailey pick the babies name yet?” Aaron was a good friend of his and he was truly happy for them both. Hotch took a beat before answering, “You know its funny, Hailey liked the name Charles, but you know, all I could think was-” “Manson.” Gideon finished with a smirk. 

“Then there was Henry-”

“Lee Lucas.”

“And Jefferey-”

“Dahmer.”

Hotch let a smile slip at their little game, “God, there’s just too many of them.” Gideon agreed before letting his eyes fall on the cover of the book still held in the sleeping girl’s grasp. “’The hunt for Red October’ by Tom Clancy.” Gideon mumbled, he was familiar with the books contents as Lily had spoken about it many times, the adventures of Jack Ryan had been introduced to her when she was thirteen years old and those books are what made her want to join the FBI. “What about Jack?” 

A smile made its way onto the younger man’s face, Jack Hotchner didn’t sound so bad. He let his eyes rake over the youngest of their troop thinking back on the last few hours. “She is good Gideon. she will make a great agent.” Jason Gideon looked back at the sleeping girl once more, a fond look crossing his face. 

“She will be one of our greatest, she just has a little more growing to do.”

By cool Siloam's shady rill. How sweet the Lily grows! -  Reginald Heber

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That’s the prologue to this wild ride and I hope you like it!

My taglist is open just message me or comment.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau #jason gideon #criminal minds

[aqvarius]

With people comparing Namba and Matsunaga (both older, both have an ex which feels redundant plot wise, and having moments of being laid back but also stern), which of the two do you think is the better?(Though I'm not sure if rmd will go beyond the 2nd epilogue since all the backlash from LC and we'll probably never see any more character development from each guy)

hmmmMMMM okay so i still have thoughts about the future of rmd (which i’m still working on slowly to try and get all my Thoughts in order) pending for another ask BUT i actually still haven’t read namba’s adversaries so i feel like i can maybe make a decent comparison without namba having too much advantage

so matsunaga and namba are REALLY similar. the sad thing is that matsunaga’s history with his ex should tie into the plot but it really doesn’t (or rather the link between ex and the plot comes out of literally nowhere) unless you’ve read all the right heart scenes (i’m just presuming this, it might also come out of nowhere even if you’ve read all the heart scenes and also i don’t know which ones exactly bc i didn’t wanna spend any hearts on this route lol). 

CUT FOR BIG SPOILERS

i do actually think that matsunaga’s route had more potential to weave in some more complex themes but ultimately ended up being a bit more basic(?) in terms of its core message. while yes, it is groundbreaking for voltage for them to write a bi love interest, i felt the way they tackled sexuality in this route wasn’t the most thoughtful. i mean, for the patient to basically go nuts (honestly don’t even remember his name bc this route made so little impact on me and i didn’t enjoy it enough to save screenshots lol) and murder his ex because he chose to preserve his public image as a celebrity and date a woman just felt like (1) not the most thoughtful character construction for a non-straight character and (2) just a way to (dare i say tokenistically) shoehorn in matsunaga’s sexuality without making it a genuinely impactful part of his personality and the development of his relationship with the mc. 

for one, i have to reiterate that it really did come out of nowhere. most of the route focussed on matsunaga’s health issues (frankly unnecessary imo). for me it felt like the health issue thing was a way for matsunaga’s backstory (particularly in relation to kasumi) to be written in, and then the thing with his ex was the way for his character to relate somewhat to a seemingly unrelated case (the actual medical/patient case aspect of the route), but they honestly threw that in so last minute and it was such a passing thing as well? like i feel like matsunaga’s route and his character were developed more from the whole downplaying his health issues thing than his sexuality. however, because the climax of the route was about the patient going berserk, they kind of were like let’s diffuse this situation with a dramatic reveal about matsunaga’s sexuality and that GENUINELY felt like all that was used for. like all of the “getting closer” moments were related to his health issues or hanging out the pomeranian lol. 

also honestly the ways in which both the patient and the female patient dealt with the singer’s death was exactly the same (i.e. wanting to die bc what’s the point in living if he’s no longer there) so i didn’t really see the point of there being two of them aside from setting up for a more dramatic ~gasp the singer was bi~ moment which in itself was just a setup for a more dramatic ~gasp matsunaga is bi~ moment right at the end. i also felt like they could have addressed the idea of fear of social discrimination in a more nuanced and thoughtful way? essentially i wasn’t a fan of the whole “he was afraid of being in a publicly gay relationship with me so i killed him bc he broke up with me to be with a woman” thing. and in my opinion, matsunaga contributed NOTHING to that entire theme aside from just saying “i had a boyfriend and we broke up for the same reasons except i didn’t become a murderer” which like........ you could have used this opportunity to actually explore the pain and difficulty of needing to hide your relationship because of social taboo or being discarded because your partner chose public image over you rather than just write this character off as a vengeful gay ex vs the good bi guy (matsunaga who just accepts injustices like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ que sera sera). i thought it would have been a stronger and more sophisticated story had they either focussed on either one theme or the other in this one route (health/life expectancy issues vs sexuality) instead of kind of having both be treated a little half-heartedly. the feeling i got was that the first step to getting closer (and i say this laughingly bc honestly the distance between them even after 30 chapters is GAPING) was the pomeranian and then the topic that gave their relationship a little more depth than “we’re just hanging out with your dog” was the revelation of his health issues. 

also the idea that people live on through your memories of them felt a little like... overdone/simple? or that it was lacking a more sophisticated engagement with the idea of death, legacy and memories. i’ve read school life shoujo manga that deals with that theme in a more interesting way. so for me, it felt a little ingenuine that it was treated by as a perspective or way of thinking about death that was like a mindblowing new way to look at life ahead, especially since the characters involved are in their 20s, not early teens. 

so anyway i think that matsunaga has potentially a deeper character? namba has more or less ‘healed’ or at least learnt to cope with his issues enough that you wouldn’t know anything is up but it’s clear that matsunaga still has a lot of personal issues to work through, so there was genuine potential to overcome some of that boss-subordinate power imbalance through having genuine connection between just humans or to develop him as a character whose prioritisation of others is maybe a flaw. i just think that they crammed so many things in that none of it really got addressed or developed properly lol.  

i will say that i find matsunaga is way less fun than namba? namba is more of a “my pace” kind of guy - he’s more random/eccentric which i enjoy. matsunaga’s persona is more just like a regular nice guy? you would NEVER find matsunaga just on the street in costume pretending to be a fortune teller for no reason but to give you random love advice? 

but on that same note, i definitely feel less chemistry between matsunaga and his mc compared to namba. maybe this is just bc i only read matsunaga’s normal ending in which she confesses and asks him out and he literally SAYS NO AND IT ENDS WITH HER GETTING REJECTED (and i’m p sure they still aren’t together even in the happy ending or the epilogue), but the whole time i feel like there was only ever a parent-child relationship between them. i never felt like matsunaga treated her any different than how he treats literally anyone else in the EICU. i actually think he treats kasumi the best out of everyone, including his mc. the weird thing is that rmd actually had way more time and potential - i mean they literally SET THE TWO CHARACTERS UP IN AN EXPLICITLY ROMANTIC CONTEXT and there was still NEGATIVE amounts of romantic chemistry??? HOW? namba and his mc literally were in a boss-subordinate dynamic the entire time and they still had more chemistry and genuine interpersonal connection without it feeling like the mc is a small pet vying for her owner’s attention the entire time while also somehow simultaneously trying to mother him? i’m not kidding when i say that namba and his mc are more fun in 10 chapters than matsunaga and his mc are in THIRTY.  

ALSO namba’s (consistent lol) berating of his mc makes sense with his character and the context and is justified every time because his mc is a thoughtless noob (but one with potential that he sees his old self in). on the other hand, matsunaga has one moment when he scolds his mc for... some reason... but because she’s supposed to be this superstar student, she doesn’t really make the mistakes that allow her those learning opportunities. and then matsunaga basically just lets her do whatever she wants re: dealing with patients.  

oh and also the plot of namba’s route is better. 

in short, matsunaga’s route had potential but i feel like the missed potential and the lack of thoughtfulness in cramming in too many themes and not making the most of them are huge negative factors. namba has a more fun character, there is SO much more romantic chemistry between him and his mc, the plot is better and more interesting and has a twist without it feeling forced, namba’s comments about his age/their age gap make more sense for his character, his sprite is more attractive (lmaoooo), the relationship development is more organic, even the moments of rejection feel both more earned and heartbreaking. tl;dr: namba wins

ALSO sorry it took me so long to reply!! i’m still half in and out of tumblr 

#Anonymous #snow answers #eiichi matsunaga #jin namba #romance md: always on call #rmdaoc #romance md #her love in the force #hlitf #voltage inc #voltage otome #otome game #otome romance #love 365 #love 365 find your story #love choice

[angrylizardjacket]

you wrote ‘don’t forget’ on your arm // 1 // charlotte&lola (penny&jupiter)

Summary: Jupiter’s going to dress as Lola for the premiere of The Dirt, is dating MGK, and also the premiere happens.

A/N: @misscharlottelee and @local-troubled-writer . I split this into 2 parts because the second part is almost entirely this AU’s version of The Dirt and it was getting too long. Next part to be posted tomorrow!!

Part 1 of 2

----

Jupiter looks like Lola; the same dark hair, same angular face. They’re not a spitting image, they’ve inherited Tommy’s waifishness and green eyes, so the honour of looking like a carbon copy of their mother belongs to Cerie, but whenever people write about Jupiter, on blogs or in magazines, they always feel the need to mention; Jupiter looks like Lola. So with the premiere coming up, Jupiter thinks it’s only fitting; if all anyone sees is their mother, then spitefully, they’ll play into that.

For the record, Alicia, the woman they’ve got playing Lola, looks eerily similar to her, and by extension Jupiter, and Jupiter wonders if it’s egotistical of Freudian to think she’s hot. Whatever; that’ll be their therapist’s problem. The cast for The Dirt is hot, which is an uncomfortable truth that Jupiter has to live with. Even Iwan makes Mick hot, which is somehow way weirder than her mom being hot, because Mick is a gremlin and the only band member Jupiter actually gets along with, their father notwithstanding. 

Some time when Jupiter was a teenager, Mick had told them, with the haunted wisdom of a man who has spent over half his life putting up with their parents, that he’d had broken guitars with more common sense than Lola, and Jupiter decided then and there that he was their favourite, and their opinion hadn’t waivered since.

So it’s with a well-worn resentment that they acknowledge how actually stylish Lola was in her youth, not that she isn’t now, but she was more of a punk in her twenties than Jupiter knows they could ever be. 

Penny thinks it’s self-destructive behaviour, and that Jup is too old for this shit, but she tags along, never one to pass up a good trawl through a vintage store, that is when she’s not in the studio with Dominic. Jup joins them when they can, when they’re not working on the final touches for their own album.

“Am I allowed to say your mom is hot?” Colson’s laying back on Jup’s sofa, flipping through a scrapbook Tommy had leant him, filled with old newspaper and magazine clippings, trying to find a good photo of Lola, while Jupiter scrolls through pinterest, looking for any and all photos of their mother in her youth. Preferably with clothes on. Christ, Lola. Jupiter shoots him a look, but it’s not angry, it’s just rather… uncomfortable.

“I think you are, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

None of the jackets are ever right; they’ve got the ripped fishnets, the black platforms, the leather shorts, they’d even managed to get their hands on a spiked bra, but for all the leather jackets they’d looked at, none of them were Lola-level of over the top gutter punk. Oh they had spikes upon spikes, and buckles, and a few had some custom detailing, but none of them were right. Up until Motley’s first tour, Lola had lived and died in her black leather jacket, with the spikes on the shoulders, that looked better open than it did zipped up. There was only one option left. They could go to Tommy, but they knew ultimately they’d end up at the same place.

Lionheart Management’s thirty-second floor offices had the same effect on Jupiter as a dentist’s office had on a child; deep seated discomfort, but Jupiter would rather meet her there than have to go to the bullshit family home she shared with Nikki.

Jupiter knocks on the door that bares their mother’s name, grimacing at the little plaque beneath that reminded everyone that she was the CEO. Lola’s voice rings from inside, inviting them in, and she seems pleasantly surprised to see Jupiter when the door opens.

Lola still wears all her earrings she’d given herself in her youth, though now they’re studs rather than safety pins and pieces of wire, as Jupiter had come to see, and for all she’s grown up, she still favours black. Maybe that’s why Jupiter’s always gone for pastels.

“What a lovely surprise,” Lola sits back in her desk chair, haloed  the golden records on her wall, and gives a fond smile to her child, “what can I do for you today?” And it kind of stings that Lola knows that Jupiter wants something, though Jupiter considers that that’s no-one’s fault but their own. They don’t make a point of seeing Lola for idle chatter.

“Do you still have that black jacket from the eighties?” Jupiter cuts right to the chase, and Lola frowns a little.

“Which one?”

“The one with the spikes on the shoulders and the weird sort of panel design?”

“I think Nadine gave me that one -” Lola says, something gently faraway about her tone.

“I don’t need it’s history, I’m just asking if I can borrow it.” Jupiter’s tone is sharp, and Lola’s expression falls. After a moment, she agrees quietly, giving a sad smile as she tells Jupiter they can pick it up later that night from her house. Before they turn away, they think they can see what people mean when they say that Jupiter looks like Lola, something haunted, wise beyond her years. They turn away.

“It’s good to see you, Jubilee,” Lola tells them just as Jupiter goes to leave, using the nickname she’d given Jupiter after they’d come out and changed their name, “I’ve heard you’re working on some new music, that’s exciting.” She’s trying so desperately to make some sort of connection with the child who barely acknowledges her, and Jupiter feels a twinge of guilt.

“It’s releasing a month after The Dirt, my album,” Jupiter’s tone is soft and a little cautious, but they turn back in time to see Lola smiling, “I even had Seo and Cyrus help out with one of the songs.” To which Lola actually laughs, warm and fond.

“I heard; Cy has not stopped talking about it, and about how he’s going to thank you when he’s headlining Coachella in a few years time.” Lola enthuses, leaning forward, elbows on her desk, eyes sparkling with amusement. This has Jupiter grinning, amused at their little brothers antics, actually sharing a nice moment with their mom. “Sounds like you’re really keeping busy; dad’s got you and Penny working on some stuff for the premiere, right?” 

“Yeah, along with Colson and Dominic,” Jupiter says with a faint smile.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lola says, a gentle pride in her words, “taking the world by storm, you’re a powerhouse, Jubilee.” And Jupiter feels a strange sort of warmth flourish in their chest. 

Lola doesn’t ask why they want the jacket, just hands it over easily when Jupiter comes to pick it up.

When he sees it, Colson whistles low through his teeth, poking at the spikes on the shoulders with an awed fascination.

“Holy shit, dude -”

“Don’t cum too hard, it’s just a jacket,” Jupiter makes a face, but Colson actually snorts.

“Do you know how many guys would give their left nut to touch this jacket?”

“Are you into me or my mom?” Jupiter snaps, and he turns his gaze on them, eyes wide, looking a little guilty. In an instant, he’s put the jacket on the table, and has wrapped Jup up in his arms.

“You, babe, of course, it’s just weird after seeing the replica costuming made; it doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. I’m into you, Jup,” he adds, “jesus fuck.” Jup will leave enough bites and hickeys on him to remind him of this fact later that night. 

They haven’t thought much about the movie itself; they’ve been around set out of sheer curiosity, and also to spend time with the cast, as they’re becoming fast friends, but they don’t actually know even the plot of the movie, or have read the script, and they haven’t been motivated enough to piece together any of this information from the snippets they’ve been on set for. Penny’s got a better grip, mostly because she, Lola, and Tommy have had meetings with the director, writers, and actors on how to handle Charlotte and Razzle with sensitivity, but Penny never talks to Jupiter about it, she knows Jupiter, for lack of a better phrase, would rather be surprised by the movie.

So their expectations are low by the time the premiere comes around, but they’re going all out, getting ready with Penny and the hair and makeup team they’ve hired for the occasion. 

Dark hair dark eyes, the makeup and hair women do a fantastic job, and Penny’s quiet for a long moment after the reveal.

“They did good?” Jupiter asks with a sharp smile, and Penny gives her a strange smile, a nod, but no words leave her lips. Jupiter doesn’t quite know how to take that, so they get dressed, leather shorts over ripped fishnets, knee-high black platforms that make them taller than any person should rightly be. They’d inherited most of Tommy’s height, which now, with six-inch platforms, is more of a curse than a blessing at 6′7″, but it doesn’t matter. They pull on the spiked bra, and leave their room with Lola’s jacket in their arms.

And Penny is silent.

“Holy shit.” Soft, eyes wide and awed, Penny takes them in, and Jupiter feels a strange sort of discomfort. “You look just like her.” Penny looks stunning in her own right, in a gorgeous, vintage-inspired jumpsuit, hair styled big, looking every bit like her parents’ daughter. Before her words could really sink in, she’s giving a bright smile, rifling through her bag, “we should get a polaroid; Andy and Sami asked if I could send a photo of us from tonight.”

They get a photo together, wait for it to develop before sending it to both the kids’ groupchat, affectionately titled Bastards Incorporated, as well as the group text Penny’d started with the rest of Hanoi Rocks after visiting them a few years ago.

Sami Yaffa sends back ‘holy shit pennylope and kid lee!! what a blast from the past’ and Jupiter feels like they’re hearing that a lot lately. He follows it with a few kind words about how authentic they look, and how their parents would be proud. Penny pretends like she isn’t tearing up a little at that, and Jupiter pretends like they don’t take the comment as a compliment. 

Meanwhile, in Bastards Incorporated, populated by the various Lee and Sixx children, amid compliments, Cyrus has changed Jupiter’s nickname from Daddy Kink  to Electra Complex 😘 and Cerie is sending selfies from the limousine that’s on it’s way to Jupiter and Penny.

[Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: cyrus im gonna break all the bones in your arm [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: im ambidextrous [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: *arms [Cerie] Evil Cyrus sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Penelope] the only valid lee: Cerie sTOP you look incredible!!  [Cerie] Evil Cyrus ❤️ reacted. [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: wait is that SEO NOT WEARING A HOODIE [Seo] King of the Ripsticks ❤️ reacted. [Cerie] Evil Cyrus sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Penelope] the only valid lee: SEO YOU LOOK SO GOOOOOOOD [Seo] King of the Ripsticks ❤️ reacted. [Seo] King of the Ripsticks: 🤵

Since turning 18, no-one outside of the family has seen Seo’s face without his hoodie and sunglasses, a personal choice, and kind of a gimmick to make him more memorable in the skating scene, so when Penny and Jupiter slide into the limousine to see him dressed to the nines, in a powder blue suit with his hair blown out, it comes as a welcome surprise, and they both shower him with compliments.

“Oi!” Cyrus cuts in where he’s sitting opposite them beside his twin, “what about me?”

“You look like a rat,” Jupiter tells him, despite how well dressed he also was. Cyrus flips them off, “Cerie you look stunning.” Jupiter tells her with a warm sincerity, and Cerie gives a toothy grin. Cerie’s always had the makings of a model, and in a sparkling, champagne colored dress and understated makeup, she’ll outshine them all with ease.

“Come on,” Cyrus whined, before tugging at the lapels of his jacket, doing the bottom button up, putting on his most winning grin as he turned on Penny, “come on, Pen, thoughts?” And Penny, ever the favourite cousin, humours him.

“You look great, Cy; I can’t believe you’re wearing a keyboard tie, but somehow it looks good on you, bud,” and at her praise, Cyrus practically preens.

“I can’t believe you’re dressed as mom,” Cerie’s a little disbelieving when she finally takes in Jupiter’s attire, quickly making mention that they look spectacular, it’s just a little jarring.

“You look -”

“Just like her, I know,” Jup gives a tired smile, and pulls out a hand mirror to touch up their lipstick, “it’s kind of the point.”

They all enthuse about the film, about the story they’re about to witness, about how it’s probably going to be weird to see their parents like that - Penny is quiet. And Jupiter takes her hand without a word. 

They step out onto the red carpet one at a time, first the twins, Cyrus leading like the peacock he is, followed by Cerie, then Seo. Jupiter goes to leave, but Penny won’t move, won’t let go of their hand.

“What if they tell it wrong, after everything, they tell it wrong?” She asks, a shake in her voice that Jupiter knows all too well. 

“Then we’ll burn the theatre to the ground -”

“Don’t be like Lola for just a fucking minute, Jup; this is really important to me, I know you don’t get it, but arson won’t fix if they’ve ruined my family’s memory, you know?” 

Jupiter pauses for a long moment before wrapping Penny up in a hug, just as she had so many times for Jupiter before. Penny dabs delicately at her eyes before her tears can ruin her makeup.

“Our family wouldn’t let them release anything that didn’t do your parents justice; you wouldn’t sign off on anything that wouldn’t do them justice.” Jupiter tells her with the utmost seriousness, though Penny’s expression is still doubtful.

“But what if I got it wrong?”

“Penelope Dingley Lee, first of her name, if your parents were here, they’d be so immeasurably proud of you, because they loved you more than anything else in the world,” they took Penny’s face in their hands, made sure she was looking at them, “you couldn’t fail them even if you tried.”

Together, they face the crowd, who go wild at the sight of them, and smile like this isn’t one of the most uniquely strange and painful experiences of their lives. Flashbulbs go off and Jupiter strikes pose after pose, soaking up the attention with Penny by their side. They get to their siblings, to the rest of their family, there’s shock, and surprise, and when they look at Lola, wearing a black, velvet dress with her hair slicked back, she’s shocked. 

“Look at you,” Tommy marvels with a million-watt smile, “this is one hell of a stunt, kiddo, you look fantastic!” And he wraps them up in a hug, looking proud as punch. 

Mick is laughing harder than Jupiter’s ever seen him laugh before, and Vince and Nikki are wearing almost identically fond and disbelieving smiles. But Lola is unreadable.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Mick makes his way to Jupiter, pats them fondly, and Jupiter makes a point of patting his head with their enhanced height, “you wear it well, kiddo; didn’t realise those two had good genes to pass on but it seems they did.” Tommy, who overheard the remark, sees Mick’s good-natured smile and teasing tone, and flips him off with a smile of his own, while Lola snickers.

“Fuck you, you geezer,” she tells him with a well worn fondness, before looking back at her child, who suddenly feels strangely nervous, though they try their best to cover it with bravado.

“They say I look like you,” Jupiter says with a smirk, and Lola shakes her head, expression turning amused. The rest of the family and the band is busy taking photos, but Lola tentatively approaches Jupiter, asks if she can hug them. Jupiter, who’s never really been one for physical contact, acquiesces, bending to hug their mother. 

“You have a much better head on your shoulders than I did at your age,” Lola mutters, and gives Jupiter a squeeze, before adding, “you look so badass, sweetheart.” 

Jupiter has no idea what they were expecting, but this almost definitely wasn’t it. Lola and Jupiter get countless photos together, and in the moments that follow, when the cast arrive, Alicia almost doubles over with laughter, crowing about how they should have cast Jup instead. The three of them get a photo together, and it’s one of the proudest moments of Lola’s life.

Focus from Jupiter dies down as people are splitting off to get photos with their doubles; Max and Josie tug Penny away to get a cheesy family photo with her, while the band and cast were taking side by side comparisons. 

By the time Douglas has reintroduced himself to Seo, not recognizing him without his hoodie and sunglasses,the rest of Lola’s kids are doing an incredibly poor job of hiding their laughter.

“Dude, who is that?” Colson asks Jupiter, trying his hardest to be discrete. Jupiter raises their eyebrows, casting their gaze to Seo before looking back at Colson.

“That’s my brother.”

“How many do you have?”

“Four.”

“And that one’s -”

“Seo.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Colson half laughs, looking back at where Seo was taking photos of Cerie on her phone for her instagram, “are you- that’s Seo? Seo! Dude!” He calls, and Seo looks over in their general direction, flashes a toothy smile, before turning back. “That dude was under that hoodie that whole time? Guess I owe Daniel five bucks.”

“What?” Jupiter laughs, and Colson looks a little sheepish, wrapping an arm around them as a photographer calls their names.

“We all had a bet about what was under his hood,” Colson tells them, posing for the camera, “Iwan’s money was on alopecia -”

“He thought Seo just had no hair?” Jupiter snorted.

“I was thinking embarrassing face tattoo, Doug had weird-coloured hair, and Daniel had -”

“Regular dude?”

“Weirdly handsome dude, actually, and I can’t believe he’s spot on -”

“And I can’t believe you seem to have a thing for my whole family,” Jupiter gave him a gentle shove, while Colson gave a rougish grin.

“Only ‘cos if I think too hard about you, lookin’ the way you look, we’re not gonna make it to the actual movie,” he murmured in their ear, and Jupiter swallowed hard, smile widening on their face.

“The movie starts in half an hour; meet me in the second story bathroom in ten minutes,” and with that, they split, each moving to take more photos, Colson doing a few interviews while Jupiter made their way to the bathroom discretely.

Before he leaves, Colson can’t help but say hello to the oldest Sixx child; Seo squints at him for a moment before smiling.

“Hey man, good to see you,” he says, and without a doubt, that’s Seo’s unflappable baritone. 

“Gotta say, man, you clean up nice, almost didn’t recognise you,” Colson admits, wrapping an arm around Seo’s shoulders as they take a few pictures together. Seo looks at whoever calls his name loudest, smiling brightly. “How you doing man?”

“Great, man, like a pig in shit,” he says, “can you do me a favour?”

“Depends, what’s up?”

“Point me in Penny’s direction; she’s wearing the same colour thing as Cyrus and I am fucking lost,” he laughs, and Colson does a double take, which Seo seems to miss, “Cerie was right, I should have just worn my damn glasses.”

“Dude, are you blind?”

“Legally, yeah, can’t properly see anything that’s not six inches away from my face.” And suddenly things are make a lot more sense.

“Your sunglasses are prescription, aren’t they?” Colson steers him in the direction of Penny, who caught sight of the pair of them, meeting them in the middle.

“Bingo,” Seo tells him with a grin, before letting Penny tuck her arm in his. After a beat, he adds, “thanks Daniel.”

“Actually I’m -” Colson goes to correct, actually a little embarrassed, but Seo snickers.

“It’s a joke, Kells, I know it’s you,” and he adds, “Jup left like twelve minutes ago, if you were looking for her.” And it’s eerie that he knows that he was. But it sounds like a blessing, if anything, and Colson tries to get away as unnoticed as possible.

[Cyrus] DJ Dumbass sent a photo to Bastards Incorporated. [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: JUPITER WHERE U @ UR BOYFRIENDS ESCAPING [Jupiter] Electra Complex 😘: none of your business [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: :O [Penelope] the only valid lee: they’re really in character ;) [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: lmao what if i sent a screenshot to lola [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: Jup [Cyrus] DJ Dumbass: @Electra Complex 😘 Penelope changed Cyrus’s nickname to QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER. [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: they’re not even RESPONDING [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: @Electra Complex 😘 this is the fuckin funniest i can’t believe you’ve been possessed by the spirit of 80s mom on tonight of all nights [Penelope] the only valid lee: since they aren’t here to defend themselves, cyrus im gonna rip out ya spine mortal kombat style [Seo] King of the Ripsticks and [Cerie] Evil Cyrus ❤️ reacted.  [Cerie] Evil Cyrus: a threat jup would be proud of [Penelope] the only valid lee ❤️ reacted.  [Cyrus] QUIT SNITCHIN MFKER: thats fair

Jupiter doesn’t mind, just this once, that history, in it’s own twisted way, repeats itself. If both of them look a little too pleased, a little too rumpled, no-one comments; it’s in the spirit of the film after all.

#tommy lee #Razzle Dingley #razzle x charlotte #lola & charlotte #mgk x jupiter #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #colson baker #colson baker imagine #mgk #mgk imagine #the angry lizard writes

[ohbrightnewday]

When things are hard, I’ll be there. Chapter 2.

I’m about 1000 words into chapter 3 so far.

Chapter 2- 2793.

Sun streamed into the decorated living room, managing to directly catch Jane Seymour in the eyes due to the position of her chair. It had taken the woman hours to fall asleep. Anne had arrived back home safe close to twelve in the morning, then it was at least one thirty before she and Catherine of Aragon had gotten Anne calm enough to lay to rest. In addition to that, Jane had been sitting in the same spot for at least three, maybe four hours before she had drifted off into a restless sleep, filled only with dreams of Henry and seemingly nothing else.

Jane had awoken with quite a start, whenever the sun streamed into her eyes, but also due to the fact she could sense some shuffling or movement coming from Anne Boleyn. Eyes still closed and yawing, Jane’s mind began to replay the sequence of events from the previous night and she shivered. Jane had never been particularly close to Anne, not often being the one that she’d go to immediately, but the night had almost been an out of body experience for both of them. It didn’t matter that Anne and Jane weren’t by any means close. Along with the sequence of events which happened to Anne playing in her mind, the same happened for the events which had happened for Catherine too. Jane’s heart glowed a little, extremely grateful for the other queen’s help that night. Then it sank again. Jane remembered the way that Catherine had abruptly left after discussing Katherine and Henry. Making a mental note to talk to the woman about that and ignoring the heavy sinking feeling, Jane cracked her eyes open.

Anne was not on the sofa and the clock was only shining six thirty in the morning. Taking a deep breath, Jane ran a hand through her hair and yawned again before her eyes wandered to the kitchen. At the table in the middle of the neat white kitchen, sat Anne, head resting near the edge of the light blue table. Her knuckles still bruised and a little bloody, make-up still a mess and not having changed her clothing yet. Jane sighed. Fear coursed through her for a moment before she pushed the thin blanket that she’s wrapped around herself and stood up

Walking through the small archway that lead to the kitchen, Jane took a seat on the stool beside Anne and placed a gentle hand on the small of her back. The poor love was shivering.

“Anne?” Jane inquired, only resulting in a groan from the woman, indicative that only she was conscious. “How about I get you a cup of coffee or some tea, okay sweetie?” Jane asked, rubbing her back in slow circles. She rarely called anyone but Katherine “sweetie”.

Anne sat up a little, looking at Jane before shaking her head. “No thanks,” she croaked.

Jane, without pushing, nodding back to her. She could try again with that later. For now, getting her somewhere comfortable, maybe in her pyjamas and hopefully in bed. Coaxing Anne to sit up fully, Jane supported her as she leaned in, head on Jane’s chest. Anne groaned again, her head was pounding, and her hands hurt. The last night seemed only like a blur apart from one thing that stuck out strongly. Henry Tudor. Images of that man played and played and played over and over in her head, not matter how much she wanted it to stop. And the memories of her child too – all she wanted was Elizabeth.

Why hadn’t Elizabeth come back too? It wasn’t fair, she got her Maggie back, but she couldn’t get her daughter back? It plagued her relentlessly. But she tried to not allow it to bother her; not having Edward probably hurt Jane more anyway, her problems were more important than Anne’s were.

Without realising, Anne had started to cry into Jane, tears filling up her eyes and dampening Jane’s fluffy white dressing gown. Jane, noticing, pulled her closer (well, as close as they could be sitting on two separate stools) and began to whisper comforting statements. Anne felt empty. If Henry was back and not with her Elizabeth, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Shaking her head in saddened anger, Anne pushed away.

“What is it, love?” Jane asked, her tone curious and light.

“What if…” Anne paused, harshly wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “What if Henry is back but n-not my Eliz- “Anne stopped, sobbing almost uncontrollably. It didn’t often hit her this hard, it never had before. Anne had only really noticed it hitting Jane this hard, usually around Edward’s birthday.

Jane nodded. Anne understood that she didn’t need to speak about it again. Jane understood. It was hard, however, to get the imagery of her beautiful daughter out of her head as she moved in closer to Jane to calm down. Jane raised a hand and began to carefully play with Anne’s hair, gently touching and twisting it in an attempt to calm her down.

It was a Sunday – Catherine would be waking up and making her way to church soon, Anna would probably be asleep until the late morning, Cathy would probably spend today writing, Katherine then helping Jane around the house, with Anne milling about and filling in wherever needed. Ideally, that’s what would happen every Sunday. After the morning, usually Joan and Maggie would come to their home for a roast lunch and then they all would play cards, watch a movie, or go out somewhere.

Last week, Jane had decided to take a trip to Kensington, to the ice rink outside of the Natural History museum. Jane had managed to drag all the queens and all the ladies with them, for a nice “family bonding”. It had ended up a slight disaster, with Katherine and Cathy falling once too many times until Katherine had bruised her leg from knocking directly into Anne and then the floor. Afterwards, Jane had bought (almost) everyone hot nuts coated in sugar. (The ladies in waiting had insisted on paying for their own and so had Catherine of Aragon).

Reminiscing on the week that had just passed, Jane smiled, laughing breathily. This Sunday would not be like that and she was trying to brace herself for exactly what was going to happen. Ending her small moment of reminiscence, she focused all her attention back to Anne. They could have fun again whenever everything was right – she had a list of trips and places she wanted to go.

“Jane?” Anne asked, pushing up from Jane again, her face ghost white and eyes red with tears.

“Hmm?” she mused.

“What was Elizabeth like?”

The question caught Jane a little off guard, pulling her fully from her happy memories as her face paled a little itself. “Elizabeth was…” Jane started, stumbling over her words. Thinking of the children past a simple conversation caused her mind to wander over to Edward and it was hard to come back from that.

However, almost on cue, Jane heard the pitter-patter of light feet wander down the stairs. It was immediately recognisable as Katherine Howard’s footsteps. “Mum?” Katherine yawned, walking into the living room first of all, a little confused whenever she did not see Jane Seymour nor Anne Boleyn.

Gently, Jane spoke: “We’re in here love.”

At that, Katherine walked in, her face neutral. She took a seat beside Anne, taking her hand gently and holding it tightly in hers. Katherine could see the sort of state which Anne was in immediately, so she did the thing that Anne did to her whenever she was having a panic attack.

“Thanks Kitty,” Anne stated bluntly, too harsh for what she meant. But Katherine didn’t recoil even if it was harsher than what Anne sounded like. Instead, she looked toward Jane for instructions. Mums always knew what to do.

“I’m going to get Anne to bed, okay? Kat, could you please make two cups of tea and bring them across the hall in a few minutes?” Jane asked, her head tilted to the side a little so that she could see Katherine clearly. Katherine nodded and stood up.

Anne began to push herself up off the stool by herself first. Jane took position beside Anne, snaking an arm around her waist as Anne leaned her head onto Jane’s, face furrowed in pain. They began to walk together, Anne finally reaching her room after a few moments. She took a deep breath as she sat on the edge of her comfortable bed, just wanting to melt into the bed as Jane carefully helped Anne into pyjamas and then into bed.

Promptly, Katherine brought in two steaming cups of milk tea, handing one to Jane and one to Anne.

“Thank you love. I think Catherine will probably waking up soon; tell her I need to speak with her if you see her, please dear?” Jane felt slightly guilty for the fact she had already asked two things of Katherine. It made Jane’s chest constrict slightly, she was worried that Katherine would get angry or upset with her, even if it was fully out of her nature too and the queens often asked a little of each other. “And,” Jane paused, about to ask the girl another favour. Swallowing, she apologised first of all, earning a confused look from Katherine.

“Why are you apologising?” Katherine asked, genuinely confused.

“Because I’m asking a lot of you this morning…” Jane admitted, earning a confused look from Katherine once more and a confused look from Anne also. Anne had just worried every queen in the household and had practically gotten three of them to look after her. How was Jane asking a lot of Katherine? Sitting up slightly, Anne placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder in the same comforting fashion that Jane had been doing.

“What was the other thing you want me to do, mum?” Katherine asked, completely fine with the two requests asked of her.

“Uh, I just need you to text Joan – but you don’t have to – and tell her to send Maggie over later today…” Jane took a breath, forcing down the guilt and anxiety that was pressing on her chest. Jane wasn’t even fully sure why.

“Of course! That’s not hard!” Katherine beamed, making Jane’s chest constrict a little less.

“Thank you lovely,” Jane smiled as Katherine left the room, heading up stairs as she heard the first noises of Catherine waking up. “Anne,” Jane stated, turning back to the girl who was melted into her bed, her hands barely holding the tea. It was lovely to see Anne calmer now, and some more rest would do her the absolute world of good. “Try to get some rest, I’ll be back soon. I need to go have a talk with Catherine, do some tidying and then I think I’ll nip down to Tesco to get a nice lunch,” Jane smiled, a bit of a forced smile, but she did love going shopping for the girls.

Sleepily, Anne perked up at the mention of Tesco. “Chocolate?” she asked, hopeful.

Jane let out a laugh, the girl could be in the absolute worst of states but would still happily suggest chocolate for lunch. Jane truly admired her. The fact Anne could still stay playful and sarcastic while in a terrible state really brought her some peace and happiness – slight awe and wistfulness lingered too; Jane wished she could have the demeanour of Anne whenever she was at her worst.

“We’ll see,” Jane smirked playfully, kissing the top of her head as she headed out of the room.

Katherine Howard and Catherine of Aragon were situated at the top of the stairs, seemingly in wait for Jane to arrive. Catherine was dressed but didn’t look like she had to leave anytime soon. Jane thought back to last week, whenever Catherine had told Jane that their service was going to be pushed back an hour or so the next week. Jane couldn’t remember the exact reason why, not completely sure if Catherine had told her. Jane began to walk up the stairs to meet the two girls idly staring down at her.

“Jane I- “Catherine began to speak as Jane did too. Letting out a small huff of laughter, Jane motioned to Catherine’s bedroom, but Catherine shook her head.

“Cathy’s still asleep, the dear was up until the early hours of the morning. Let’s talk downstairs,” Catherine suggested to Jane’s agreement as the two began the descent down the stairs, leaving Katherine staring at them wondering for her next instruction.

“Do you want some coffee?” Jane suggested as they both took a seat at the kitchen table, a little nervous to hear what the other had to say.

“No thank you…” Catherine took a breath, not sure of where to start with what she was going to say. “Jane, I need to tell you something,” she stated, elongating the process of telling Jane more than it needed to be.

Jane nodded, chest constricting for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Catherine was so rarely apprehensive about her speaking and words, often jumping straight into talking. “What is it?” Jane spoke, keeping her voice rising from nervousness.

Catherine was feeling the same way. Her hands shook a little as she gently set them on her lap. “Henry,” she spat out suddenly, much to Jane’s confusion. A careful nodding prompt urged her to go on. “Remember what Anne said about him? How she saw him – or at least someone who looked similar to him?” Catherine spoke as the realisation of what she was about to say hit Jane, even if she was bracing herself for impact. “I think I saw him too…” Catherine’s words went a mile a minute, barely able enough time to get a breath out as she uncharacteristically rambled on. “It was after the show on Wednesday, I decided on a scenic park route home because I had a headache. You remember, right? Anyway, I saw him. I was walking through the trail when I saw someone with that strawberry coloured hair and same build and face that made me double take. I don’t think he saw me, but I picked up my pace,” Catherine finished. She was prepared to take that story to the grave unless any more information came to light.

Jane went pale. Completely pale; ghost white. Barely able to speak, it felt like she was swimming, Catherine’s voice seemed so distance. Jane felt her face flush, dizziness crashed over her in waves, terrified that she was going to faint, Jane began to try to steady her breathing. She hadn’t felt like this in sometime and she had never gotten so afraid over the thought of Henry. Jane, despite how much the queens tried to convince her, couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she had also been horribly manipulated. Jane still hated Henry for what he did to her Katherine and the other Queens, but she still struggled to see what he did to hurt her.

“Listen to me Jane,” Catherine spoke, her voice swimming in Jane’s ears. “He won’t hurt any of us, okay? I promise.”

“Henry never hurt… me… worried about,” Jane took a choked breath, “worried about Katherine.”

Catherine nodded, knowing that Jane was not in the right state to hear Catherine’s talk on how she was treated wrongly and unfairly. Jane could not let Katherine know; it would literally destroy the girl; she didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t fully confirmed however, and Jane was yet to hear Anne’s side to the story. It provided comfort somewhat, knowing that this could easily be a simple misunderstanding rather than the genuine fact of Henry being back.

Slipping from the trance she had been in, staring at the wall beside Catherine, Jane and Catherine both heard familiar footsteps. It was not the time to see another queen, even if the queen who entered the room was a sleepy looking Cathy Parr.

“Kat said that Maggie would be here around eleven or twelveish,” Cathy stated, not looking up from the counter where she had begun to make herself a mug of coffee. It was only until she didn’t get a reply did she look at the two queens sat at the table. One was looking sheepish, eyes wide and worried, the other looked even worse. Ghostly pale and visibly shaking.

“Jane? Cath?” Cathy spoke, taking a step forward, eyes worried and sleepy.

“It’s a long story, love,” Catherine started. “Promise you won’t mention this to Katherine yet, yeah?”

“I promise,” Cathy nodded, taking a seat beside Jane, and taking Jane’s hand and rubbing slow circles on it. “Tell me as much you want to.”

#six #sixthemusical #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #jane seymour #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #quinn writes

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #388

Top Ten Things Tim Burton’s Batman Films Did Right

Thirty years ago, give or take, the first Tim Burton Batman movie was released in cinemas (according to Google, its UK release date was 11th August 1989). Everyone knows the story; it was a phenomenon, a marketing juggernaut, a hit probably beyond what anyone was reasonably expecting. I was too young to understand or appreciate what was going on, but for twenty years or more the image of Batman in the public consciousness was intertwined with Adam West and pop-art frivolity. Suddenly superheroes were “dark” and “grown-up”; suddenly we had multi-million-dollar-grossing properties, franchises, and studios rummaging through their back catalogues of acquired IPs to land the next four-quadrant hit. Throughout the rest of the nineties we got a slew of pulp comic adaptations – The Spirit, The Phantom, Dick Tracy – before the tangled web of Marvel licenses became slightly easier to unpick, and we segued into the millennium on the backs of Blade, X-Men, and Spider-Man. Flash-forward to a super-successful Batman reboot, then we hit the MCU with Iron Man, and we all know where that goes. And it all began with Batman!

Except, of course, that’s not quite the whole story. Studios were trying to adapt superheroes and comic books for a number of years, not least because Richard Donner’s Superman had been such a huge hit a decade before Batman. And the Batman films themselves began to deteriorate in quality pretty rapidly. Plus, when viewed from the distance of a couple of decades or more, the supposed dark, gritty, adult storytelling in Burton’s films quickly evaporates. They’re just as camp, silly, and nonsensical as the 1960s show, they’re just visually darker and with more dry ice. Characters strut around in PVC bodysuits; the plots make little to no sense; characterisation is secondary to archetype; and Batman himself is quite divorced from his comic incarnation, killing enemies often capriciously and being much less of a martial artist or detective than he appeared on the page (in fact, Adam West’s Batman does a lot more old-school deducing than any of the cinematic Batmen).

I think a lot of people of my generation, who grew up with Adam West, went through a period of disowning the series because it was light, bright, campy and, essentially, for children; then we grow up and appreciate it all the more for being those things, and also for being a pure and delightful distillation of one aspect of the comics (seriously, there’s nothing in the series that’s not plausibly from a 1950s Batman comic). And I think the same is true of Burton’s films. for all their importance in terms of “legitimising” superhero movies, they have come in for a lot of legitimate criticism, and in the aftermath of Christopher Nolan’s superlative trilogy they began to look very old-fashioned and a much poorer representation of the character. But then, again, we all grow up a little bit and can look back on them as a version of Batman that’s just as valid; they don’t have to be perfect, they don’t have to be definitive, but we can enjoy them for what they are: macabre delights, camp gothic comedies, delightfully stylised adventure stories. They might lack the visual pizazz of a Nolan fight scene or, well, anything in any MCU movie, but they’re very much of a type, even if that type was aped, imitated, and parodied for a full decade following Batman’s release. There’s much to love about Burton’s two bites of the Bat-cherry, and here – at last – I will list my ten favourite aspects of the films (that’s both films, Batman and Batman Returns).

Tim Burton’s Batman isn’t quite my Batman (but, for the record, neither is Christopher Nolan’s), but whatever other criticisms I may have of the films, here are ten things that Burton and his collaborators got absolutely right.

Great Design: seriously, from an aesthetic point of view, they’re gorgeous. The beautiful Anton Furst Gotham, all gothic towers and industrial pipework, is a thing of beauty, and in terms of live-action the design of all of Batman’s vehicles and gadgets has never been bettered. It gives Batman, and his world, a gorgeously distinctive style all its own.

Wonderful Toys: it’s not just the design of the Batmobile and Batwing that impresses (big, bulbous round bits, sweeping curves, spiky wings); its how they’re used. Burton really revels in the gadgets, making Batman a serious tech-head with all manner of grappling hooks, hidden bombs, and secret doo-dahs to give him an upper hand in a fight. It makes up for the wooden combat (a ninja Michael Keaton is not), suggesting this Batman is a smarter fighter than a physical one. Plus all those gadgets could get turned into literal wonderful toys. Ker-ching.

He is the Night: Adam West’s Batman ran around during the day, in light grey spandex with a bright blue cape. Michael Keaton’s Batman only ever came out at night, dressed entirely in thick black body armour, and usually managed to be enveloped in smoke. From his first appearance, beating up two muggers on a Gotham rooftop, he is a threatening, scary, sinister presence. It totally sold the idea of Batman as part-urban legend, part-monster. Burton is fascinated with freaks, and in making his Batman freaky, he made him iconic.

You Wanna Get Nuts?: added to this was Michael Keaton’s performance as Bruce Wayne. Controversial casting due to his comedy background and, frankly, lack of an intimidating physique, he nevertheless utterly convinced. Grimly robotic as Batman, he presented a charming but secretive Bruce Wayne, one who was kind and heartfelt in private, but also serious, determined, and very, very smart. But he also excellently portrayed a dark anger beneath the surface, a mania that Bruce clearly had under control, but which he used to fuel his campaign, and which he allowed out in the divisive but (in my opinion) utterly brilliant “Let’s get nuts!” scene. To this date, the definitive screen Bruce Wayne.

Dance with the Devil: The counterpoint to this was Jack Nicholson’s Joker. Cashing a phenomenal cheque for his troubles, he nevertheless delivered; his Joker is wild, over-the-top, cartoonish but also terrifying. In my late teens I was turned off by the performance, feeling it a pantomime and not reflective of the quiet menace and casual cruelty of, say, Mark Hamill’s Joker; but now I see the majesty of it. You need someone this big to be a believable threat to Batman. No wonder that, with Joker dead, they essentially had to have three villains to replace him in the sequel.

Family: Bruce’s relationship with Alfred is one of the cornerstones of the comic, but really only existed in that capacity since the mid-80s and Year One (which established Alfred as having raised Bruce following his parents’ deaths). So in many ways the very close familial relationship in Batman is a watershed, and certainly the first time many people would have seen that depicted. Michael Gough’s Alfred is benign, charming, very witty, and utterly capable as a co-conspirator. One of the few people to stick around through the Schumacher years, he maintained stability even when everything else was going (rubber) tits up.

Meow: I’ve mostly focussed on Batman here, but by jeebies Batman Returns has a lot going for it too. Max Shreck, the Penguin, “mistletoe is deadly if you eat it”… but pride of place goes to Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman. An utterly bonkers origin but a perfectly pitched character, she was a credible threat, a believable love interest, and an anti-hero worth rooting for, in a tour-de-force performance. Also came along at just the right time for me to experience puberty. If you’re interested. Plus – and this can’t be overstated – she put a live bird into her mouth. For real. I mean, Christ.

Believably Unreal: I used to criticise Batman for being unrealistic, just as campy in its own way as the ‘60s show. But that’s missing the point. It’s a stylised world, clearly not our own thanks to the Furst-stylings. And Burton uses that to his advantage. The gothic stylings help sell the idea of a retro-futuristic rocket-car barrelling through city streets; the mishmash of 80s technology and 40s aesthetics gives us carte blanche for a zoot-suited Joker and his tracksuited henchmen to tear up a museum to a Prince soundtrack. It’s a world where Max Shreck, looking like Christopher Walken was electrocuted in a flour factory, can believably run a campaign to get Penguin elected mayor, even after he nearly bites someone’s nose off. It’s crazy but it works.

Believably Corrupt: despite the craziness and unreality, the first Batman at least does have a strong dose of realism running through it. The gangsters may be straight out of the 40s but they’ve adopted the gritty grimness of the intervening decades, with slobby cop Eckhart representing corrupt law enforcement. Basically, despite the surrealism on display, the sense of Gotham as a criminal cesspool is very well realised, and extends to such a high level that the only realistic way to combat any of it is for a sad rich man to dress up as Dracula and drive a rocket-car at a clown.

The Score: I’ve saved this for last because, despite everything, Danny Elfman’s Batman theme is clearly the greatest and strongest legacy of the Burton era. Don’t come at me with your “dinner-dinner-dinner-dinner-Batman” nonsense. Elfman’s Batman score is sublime. Like John Williams’ Superman theme, it’s iconic, it’s distinctive, and as far as I’m concerned it’s what the character should sound like. I have absolutely no time for directors who think you should ever make a Batman film with different music. It’s as intrinsically linked with the character as the Star Wars theme is with, well, Star Wars. It’s perfect and beautiful and the love-love-love the fact that they stuck it in the Animated Series too.

Whelp, there we are. The ten best things about Burton’s two Batman movies. I barely spoke about the subsequent films because, well, they’re both crap. No, seriously, they’re bad films. Even Batman Forever. Don’t start.

#top ten #batman #1989 #tim burton #Michael Keaton #batman returns #comics #movies

[timeisacephalopod]

Bug

Just a lil Tony/Rhodey thing based around my completely evidenceless headcanon that Rhodey is terrified of bugs :) Bonus points for a dash of superfamily (without the super).

Tony drags his ass home from a long meeting only to have Rhodey immediately run behind him and grab his hips, forcing Tony in front of him. “Do you husband duties and kill the bug!” he yells. 

Sam appears from around the corner with his cell phone out obviously filming. “Rhodey, you’re fine I’m sure the bug isn’t that big,” he says, familiar with how this game goes.

“That thing is the size of me and Miles abandoned me with it! We need a new son!” he yells.

He lets out a long sigh as Sam starts laughing, presumably again. “Rhodey we’re not disowning our kid because you don’t like that he tried to make you kill your own bug. We’ve talked about this- you’re a grown man, and you’ve fought in actual wars. Bugs are not scarier than people with guns and bombs,” he says calmly.

Rhodey looks at him like he’s nuts. “You wanna know what happens when you shoot people? They go down, same if you blow ‘em up. Wanna know what happens if you smack a bug off the ceiling? Fucking nothing because those little bastards don’t even take fall damage and they’re faster than me. Get the bug! This suburban shit is not for me, Tony, we are moving back to the city there were no bugs in your penthouse.”

Sam has doubled over, taking the phone with him and he’s laughing so hard he’s silent. “Rhodey, there are bugs everywhere- you have to deal with this.”

“I will file for divorce if you do not march your beautiful mayonnaise ass into that kitchen to kill that bug right now, Tony.”

He’s serious too, this has also happened before and Tony doesn’t want to explain to a divorce lawyer why ‘he didn’t kill the bug’ is the reason for a divorce. “This is why Miles abandoned you,” he mumbles.

“Well that’s fine, I abandoned him too, he’s cancelled. I have no time for ungrateful children who do not realize that they need to repay my love and support with bug killing duties,” Rhodey says. “Go get the bug.” He prods Tony forward a little and he lets out another sigh.

“Baby, what makes you think the bug is still where you left it?”

Rhodey freezes in terror for a moment before frantically looking around. “Why you say something like that you know how I feel about bugs!”

Sam continues wheezing away but he’s repointed the camera at him and Rhodey. Tony rubs his temples. “Honey, you need therapy to deal with bugs we can’t keep killing them for you. Hey, wait a second why the fucking haven’t you killed the bug?” he asks Sam.

“And miss this comedy? Hell no, this is way too funny to watch,” he says.

Rhodey gives him an offended look and turns to Tony, “you see what kind of rude ass friends you keep? That’s disrespectful!”

“Baby. Sam is your friend,” Tony reminds him. Its not like he’s the one who found Sam through the military that’s Rhodey’s deal.

“He sure shit isn’t now,” Rhodey mumbles. “Now kill. That. Bug.”

Sure, he could argue but what’s the point of that? So he goes into the kitchen and Rhodey leaves him at the doorway, apparently no longer willing to risk the bug while Sam follows him inside. “Its on the counter,” Rhodey tells him, half hiding behind the kitchen doorway.

“I don’t need you to be a back seat bug killer, honey. This is not the first bug I’ve killed for you,” he points out.

“Well you have a thirty nine percent fail rate and the bug reappearance rate is eleven percent so you need to kill that shit!” Rhodey tells him.

Sam lets out another loud wheeze, “he did the fucking math!”

“Damn right I did, I need to know who is the most efficient bug killer in this household. Miles has a seventy percent fail rate, that kid can’t kill bugs for shit. We should have another one- maybe that one will know how to kill bugs. Or could get a cat, they kill bugs, right?”

For a moment Tony allows himself to imagine a life where Rhodey is not a crazy person who does the actual math on who has the best bug killing success. Things are blissful, Miles does not have to abandon his father, a grown ass man, to kill his own bugs and Tony does not have to come home to a whole ass husband screaming about bugs. But then that wouldn’t be Rhodey and as much as this fear is ridiculous he does love his husband very much.

“Honey, you’re allergic to cats so we’re not getting a cat and we aren’t having another kid because Miles isn’t good at killing bugs. Now take a breath because I am going to kill this bug,” he tells Rhodey.

Rhodey lets out a small little gasp and hides behind the doorway further and honest to god the spider isn’t even that big and mostly seems to be minding its own business even if its on the counter. Tony looks around but Miles must have run off with the room’s Designated Fly Swatter so he grabs a plate and smashes it over the spider. Rhodey lets out a loud yelp, “why would you smash it with a plate, Tony!”

“There was no fly swatter,” he says as Sam starts wheezing again.

Rhodey looks at him like he’s nuts. “That’s not a logical solution, baby.” He’s looking at the counter with more concern than Tony thinks is strictly necessary and Sam is trying his best to point the camera while laughing. “That spider is dead, right?” Rhodey asks.

Tony looks over to the spider amongst the plate chunks. “Yeah, honey, its dead.”

Rhodey lets out a loud sigh of relief and leans into the doorway. “Oh my god, that was stressful I thought I was going to die today, damn. Get that plate out of here, I want nothing to do with that. And get rid of that counter too, that thing is deleted, send it to Guatemala I don’t give a shit just get it out of the country. We are moving from the suburbs, I don’t care if we have to send Miles to a different school I cannot handle these suburban bugs. White people are brave, a little too brave, you guys got cocky after colonization.”

Tony lets out a long sigh, “Rhodey, no one is going to eat off a broken plate. We already had to throw it out and the counter stays.”

Rhodey gives him a look, “are you suggesting that we’d keep that plate if it didn’t break? What is wrong with you! And we’re not keeping that counter either, I know what happened on it- I can’t eat from that anymore.” He gives the counter a distressed look and Tony sighs.

“You wouldn’t even know the difference.” He knows this because this is not the first time he’s used an unconventional weapon to kill bugs and Rhodey never notices after he forgets a bug was killed with it. Or if Tony fake buys a new umbrella so Rhodey won’t keep getting soaked in the rain because he killed a bug with the last umbrella. Not that he’ll fill Rhodey in on that detail because if he did then Rhodey would probably buy all new everything in an attempt to avoid bug taint.

“Would so- I’d be able to feel its evil energies,” he says and Tony lets out a long sigh.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means bugs give off evil energies and I can sense it,” Rhodey says, way too serious about such a stupid statement. Sam lets out another round of laughter at that.

*

Miles looks unimpressed, which isn’t unusual for a fourteen year old boy, but when he walks over with purpose Tony suspects something’s up. “Dad, why are a meme?” he asks Rhodey. Rhodey looks up from the tablet he’s reading the news from- also something Tony has killed a bug with not that Rhodey knows that’s the same tablet- and frowns.

“What?”

Miles holds out his phone and sure enough there’s a picture of Rhodey’s face when he’d told Tony that killing bugs with plates isn’t a logical solution. The caption on it is ‘when something isn’t a logical solution’ and Tony largely suspects its being used as a reaction image. “Huh, I didn’t think people would find that as funny as Sam,” he says. He’d posted the video to YouTube and said people thought it was hilarious but frankly Sam is as prone to exaggeration as Rhodey. He’s married to Bucky and he still complains that he’s the worst human to exist ever in the history of humanity. To be fair Bucky seems to share that sentiment.

“People love this video. Also you’re a meme too,” he tells Tony, taking his phone back for a moment and extending it again. Tony looks exceptionally done in the picture, clearly exhausted with Rhodey’s freaking out over bugs and people seem to find it funny.

“Why is your face looking like that? I was in danger and you’re out there looking like I was inconveniencing you? What kind of husband are you?” Rhodey asks, offended.

“Yeah, I think the reason people find this so funny is because you aren’t the typical Mulder vs Scully kind of opposites. Like the straight shooting guy smashed a bug with a plate and like... even the people watching this for the first time know that’s not the first time you’ve done something like that. So now you guys are weird vs weirder,” Miles says and Tony is genuinely impressed and also confused by the amount of time Miles has spent analyzing this. But then he’s spent a strange amount of time directing every piece of every Star Wars movie too. They came out when Tony was a kid but shit he has nothing on Miles’ love for the Star Wars universe.

“I don’t care why I’m a meme, how do I stop that?” Rhodey asks.

Of all the years of dealing with Tony’s fame he seriously asks that? “Memes go by fast, relax,” he tells Rhodey.

“If you don’t want to be a meme get therapy for the bugs. You got one measly ass bug in your ear as a kid and now you’re trying to convince us all to send the counter to Guatemala,” Mile says, shaking his head.

Rhodey gives him an offended look. “Excuse you, that was a traumatic event!”

“We know that, we’re living with the fallout and I do not have a seventy percent fail rate!”

“You do so, and those bugs have a seventeen percent reappearance rate. And you know what, this is all your fault,” he tells Tony and he frowns.

“What? How the hell is this my fault?” he asks.

“If you had’ve listened to me when I told you about the bug in my ear none of this would have happened!”

Oh yeah it would have but Tony isn’t going to argue about that. “Rhodey you didn’t tell me anything about the bug, you were screaming about helicopters in your ear.”

“That was me telling you about the bug! It was so loud in there flapping around!” He shudders and makes a face.

“Helicopters don’t fit in ears, Rhodey! How the hell was I supposed to know?”

He rolls his eyes, “oh what the hell else could it have been?” he asks.

Tony rolls his eyes, “I don’t know, I thought you dropped acid or something.”

Rhodey squints at him. “We were eleven, Tony. What kind of eleven year old drops acid?”

Miles lets out an annoyed noise, “who cares about the circumstances of the bug. You have been in war zones but its a bug that did you in? That’s not logical, dad. Get therapy so you can kill your own bugs.”

Rhodey stands, “I will sooner die in hell fire than kill my own bugs.”

Tony sighs and resolves to tell JARVIS to post this to YouTube too and Miles can deal with being the next ‘that’s not logical’ meme.

#tony x rhodey #ironhusbands #fanfiction #alternate universe #crack fic

[nny11writes]

Pink Lizard Thunderbolt Incident

Ahsoka was twenty, bored, and taking a bet from Hardcase when it happened.

Her first mistake was being in the same bar as Hardcase. Quickly followed in order by entertaining the bet, her own youthful naivete, and her desire to push limits. Well, actually, her first mistake had been bragging to him about her ability to knock back starshine’s because human alcohol was “weak ass shit”. Hardcase commiserate and had promised to find her something better, after all, clones had a higher tolerance for alcohol as well. When they’d sat at the bar Hardcase had pointed at her and said, “This one can drink irongut, blood mashes, and thinks starshine is weak. What do you have to knock her flat on her ass?”

Ahsoka had laughed, punching him good naturedly until he’d smiled evilly at her and said, “S’amatter? You scared?”

She’d told him to pay for the drink and she’d drink anything.

When it arrived, the first thing she’d noticed was the small cloud hovering above it, little electrical bolts flying between the hovering vapor and the liquid.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, “is that a pica?”

The bartender, an older purple woman with stubby tentacles swept elegantly behind her head, had grinned and winked. “Nope. That is a pink lizard thunderbolt babe. Almost twice the alcohol content. It can literally eat through a human’s stomach, but you togs are built like gastric tanks. If you can drink this shit and remember anything afterwards, I’ll pay for the damn thing myself.”

Ahsoka stared at it in wonder, a stray bolt shocking her finger as she grinned. She probably sounded more excited than she should have as she asked, “Should we have an ambulance on speed dial or anything?”

The woman shrugged, “How should I know? I’m not your mom!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve just sent Kix a message and he is your mom.” Hardcase made a motion towards it. “You gonna chicken out or what?”

The last thing Ahsoka remembers is grabbing the drink. It’s surprisingly disappointing to say she doesn’t remember what it looked like as the cloud dissipated, she had no clue how it even tasted which just seemed like a fucking shame. Then next thing she remembers is waking up violently ill in an alleyway, and bitching on about buzz droids. Later she’ll be delighted to discover that she is still alive and hadn’t had a single thing stolen from her. Much later she’ll be grateful that Hardcase didn’t record a damned thing. Much, much later she’ll have bragging rights beyond bragging rights and a pin up of herself in a thundercloud painted on a LAAT/i.

But that is later.

Hardcase, for his suspiciously reliable sounding testimony, explains that Ahsoka drank it over a twenty minute period and that after thirty minutes she only seemed regular drunk. The bartender was impressed enough to give them some complimentary nuts. About five minutes after that Ahsoka had started rambling about starships, then blasters, then bitching about how cold Ilum was and how she wished her lightsabers were a “cool” color. She had apparently never explained what that was supposed to mean.

Ahsoka had devolved quickly into tattoo designs for herself, and asked several times in a row if Rex would want one too. Despite Hardcase repeatedly saying she would need to ask the Captain. Then got a little teary eyed that Rex didn’t love her, which the bartender took the wrong way but got a kick out of Ahsoka’s hiccuping, “But he’s my best- brother- frien’- dad and I need him!”

Hardcase had assured her that Rex loved her, and that every trooper in the 501st knew she was their collective best-sister-brother-friend-Commander.

She had sniffled and asked if they’d get tattoos with her which Hardcase assured her they would.

They had both been given orders to drink two glasses of water before leaving. Apparently the bartender wanted to keep visuals on Ahsoka for another hour before they left for liability reasons and also because this was the most fun she’d had all week. Which was fair. After the first glass was chugged Ahsoka almost threw up, managed not to, and had loudly declared that was why togrutas were the best.

Hardcase had gotten up at some point to keep Kix appraised of the situation (“I told him you were fine and you were, ‘s not my fault!), it took less than a minute and he had eyes on her for all except the last fifteen seconds.

No one is really sure where she was for the next hour or so.

Ahsoka finds a receipt in her pocket for a kebab, the used end of a death stick with heavy lipstick stains in a shade she doesn’t own, and a crumpled ticket to a concert that had happened a week before. All in all it’s not useful for much except she glad she didn’t root through the trash more thoroughly. Who knows what would have been in her pockets then. She guesses that she stumbled out the back door to wander a bit, but was probably too uncoordinated to get far. Regardless, drunk Ahsoka had still turned around and homed in on Hardcase at the bar.

The first place Hardcase checked was the dancefloor, then the bathroom, then the back alley. He explained in detail how his short life flashed before his eyes and the way he’d debated if he should call in backup to find her. He’d figured she couldn’t get far and did a sweep, he never saw her. Right when he decided to, and stepped into the back alley he found her sitting half hidden by the dumpster and nearly burst into tears. Hardcase then promised to get a tattoo with her and get her food and do anything as long as she didn’t leave his side again for the night.

Ahsoka had apparently said, “Nice.” while patting his cheeks.

Mama Bartender had come out a long while later with waters for them and asked if Ahsoka was still breathing. Ahsoka had tilted her head and shrugged, which was acceptable. A while after that Hardcase had helped her up and they had tried to go back to the barracks. She had been distracted by every pet they came across and asked to touch them. Hardcase had smiled widely as he explained he was not responsible for whatever photos those civvies had taken of a drunk Jedi playing with their pets.

“That’s on the holonet and I can’t stop it.”

Fair enough, although Ahsoka did feel he shouldn’t act so smug about it.

There had apparently been a memorable stop at a bathroom as Hardcase had gone in the single stall with her to make sure she actually peed in the damned toilet and not on her leggings. Apparently someone had thought they were engaged in more sexual games and had been horrified thinking a trooper took advantage of a drunk woman. Ahsoka had laughed herself nearly sick, again allegedly on civvie camera, explaining that Hardcase was her best friend and she loved him but not like that but if he was a girl she would totally have done it. Hardcase stuttered his way again through the explanation that she was drunk and needed to pee. Ahsoka had been offended at the accusation that she was drunk, right up until she tilted and almost brained herself on the sink while bitching about the gravity repulsors acting up again. Then she’d paused before petting the mirror image of her own face and saying, “Ok ’m drunk.”

The karking Coroc’s had been called in the meantime though, and Hardcase had been laughing too much to explain what happened when the two shock troopers arrived. He must have said something though because they were not, in fact, arrested for any of the things the probably should have been arrested for.

The fact that Ahsoka had received two pings with unknown com numbers to have a drinking contest with the Guard was a good indicator that she’d impressed them for all the wrong reasons. Boot and Chide had both assured her they’d welcome her presence as a judge if nothing else because she was funny.

Hardcase just snickered, “F-funny!” in a high pitched wheeze when she asked about it.

Ahsoka had tried to sleep on a bench and Hardcase had at least redirected her back towards the barracks. They made it halfway there before Ahsoka walked unassisted into another alley, leaned over, and threw up. Feeling better she’d again insisted on sleeping, and Hardcase got her to compromise and just sit next to him. There was no way she was being allowed to sleep yet. He kept an eye on her breathing and made sure she wasn’t getting cold.

“I know my ABC’s Commander!” Hardcase said with pride.

She opted to not make the obvious joke considering he’d shepherded her drunken ass around for at least six. Which was generous considering he was the one who had gotten her plastered in the first place.

That’s where she remembers waking up feeling like shit and grateful that she had the day off.

Kix had nearly blown a fuse when they’d returned as he’d assumed Hardcase was being an idiot and had been joking about the punch packed in her drink. Ahsoka had hissed through his rant, hands covering montrals best she could and accepting the pain killers and the electrolyte mix. She got a few hours sleep in the medical bay under his watchful eye before her woke her to eat a nutrient cube and discharge her with a lifelong case of Being a Karking Dumbass. Kix was adamant that it was chronic and would only become more acute with time. Ahsoka had rolled her eyes but didn’t try to argue because...well, she had drunk the damned thing hadn’t she?

She caught another hour of sleep before Anakin had arrived, stomping and shouting and forcing her up to train in the salle with him. As it was his right as her Master to determine how Ahsoka would spend the day off from the GAR. It wasn’t productive considering she spent the whole time cursing at him and he spent the whole time laughing.

“Best core workout I’ve ever had,” Anakin would say fondly, much later down the line when telling the story to embarrass her.

Obi-Wan had arrived afterwards with an evil smile to drill her on her studies, which Ahsoka managed to only avoid by saying, “You drink one Pink Lizard and everyone becomes an asshole!”

Anakin had panicked for a hot minute while Obi-Wan had immediately sat her down. She’d been quickly forced to explain that Kix had seen her and discharged her already, no she wasn’t dying, and no they only ate through the stomach lining of humans according to the bartender.

Anakin had eventually smiled widely, far too manic for anyone’s tastes, looking between her and Obi-Wan, “We’re high tolerance drinkers! That’s our lineage tick!”

“No,” Obi-Wan tried his best to discourage the notion. “I know what you’re thinking and we should definitely not-”

“Yes!” Anakin insisted, only getting more excited, “We need to get drinks together! Now!”

“No,” Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had both insisted, but for wildly different reasons.

“But yes!” Anakin chripped far to happy and loud for anyone to enjoy as he dragged them off towards their quarters. “So what are we having, I know how to get the good stuff in here.”

“Either get me herbal tea or get me another Pink Lizard so I can die in kriffing peace!” Ahsoka snarled and tried to get her arm out from the mechno grip he’d locked her into.

Obi-Wan said, “I second the motion! Let me go Anakin!”

“Cool, I’m thinking jet juice to start then some skee’s and we’ll see how we’re feeling.” Anakin said the same way some people might imply that eating a small desert after a meal might be one step too far.

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan looked at one another in horror, mute from fear.

“How are you still alive?” She whispered staring up at her Master with new respect.

To be fair, she doesn’t actually remember anything after that either, so maybe the respect had been given a bit to quickly. Suffice it to say they, luckily, survived the night. Although perhaps “luckily” is not the right word for the day that followed.

Regardless, Ahsoka looked up at her nose art with a smile and decided that she would never, ever touch a damned pica drink again in her life. She would have also sworn off drinking with Anakin, but that was a foregone conclusion.

Now if she could just get Yoda to come to one of their “our lineage makes poor decisions” nights, she’d swear off drinking forever.

#fanfiction #fanfic #Ahsoka Tano #Hardcase #CW: Alcohol #CW: Binge Drinking #do NOT do what these two idiots did #black out drunk is not cool kids #but it sure makes for fun fic writing #No one deserves to be trapped with Anakin when he wants to drink to excess #not even Obi-Wan I Take Shots in the Middle of Our Mission Kenobi and Ahsoka Fuck You I Can't Tano #star wars: the clone wars #Why yes that is Aetheyta #thanks for noticing #Kix is the Mom friend

[overly-affectionate-animatronics]

Endings and Beginnings

DISCLAIMER:  This story was written back in 2015 before FNAF 4 came out.  If canon divergence doesn’t bother you, it’s still a fun read.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Title:  Endings and Beginnings Part:  1/1 Author:  Murasaki Rose Beta:  none Genre:  Horror Rating:  PG Spoilers:  Minor ones for first and second games. Warnings:  dark themes Pairings:  None

Disclaimer:  Here we go...Five Nights at Freddy's and all related characters are the property/creation of Scott Cawthon.   In other words, they aren't mine and I'm not making any money off of this, I'm just a fangirl having some fun.

Author's Note:  Short prequel to - Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Down but can be read by itself.

Flames will be used to keep me warm while I write and will only serve to make me more determined to continue.  (They may also cause me to break out in bouts of maniacal laughter.)  Soooo......come at me bro.

Summary:  After witnessing so much tragedy and death, with a little help Phone Guy finally decides it's time to leave Freddy Fazbear's for good.  His boss asks him for one more week, time enough to find a new night guard, should be a breeze right?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Stepping into the dimly lit Parts and Service room, the slim figure of the young security manager walked over to where the original animatronics lay and stared sadly down at them.  Today mechanics were dismantling the Toys down to the very last nut and bolt before they wiped the hard drives clean.  As far as the company was concerned the flawed and buggy facial recognition programming was too dangerous to ever be used again.  Then tomorrow he'd be over-seeing the sealing of the safe room along with the Spring Bonnie suit and its' new permanent "resident".

At least the old animatronics would survive.  His childhood friends would live again, fully restored and updated in time for the remodeling to be complete...but the company could never fully wipe away this tragedy.  Five children.  Children they were supposed to entertain and protect...

"I'm sorry.  It's all my fault.  If I'd just payed attention....the Toys weren't malfunctioning, not in the beginning.  They knew.  Somehow they knew and I put him right where he wanted to be!"  Uttering a hoarse cry, he punched the wall, tears streaming down his face.  He would never forgive himself.

Unseen, the spirit of his young friend, the first and oldest child to go missing, appeared behind him.  "It's not your fault!  He tricked you like he tricked us!"  Wrapping his arms around the guard's waist, he rested his head on the older boy's back.  "Please don't cry."

Wiping the tears from his face, he turned back to the old animatronics, "the restaurant is going to re-open but I-I ah, don't know if I'll be coming back."

A sharp spike of fear lanced through the twelve year-old spirit, he was leaving?   Desperate, he clung tighter to the older boy, so tight his "body" dissipated and suddenly he was wrapped around the other's very mind and soul.  'Don't leave us alone...don't leave me.'

'Who?'

'It's me.  It's me.  It's me.  It's me.  It's me.  It's me.   It's me.'  the spirit chanted over and over, even as his grip loosened and he was forced from the other's body.

Dizzy from the near-possession, the young guard staggered forward, just barely catching himself on a wall as his body lurched violently to one side.  He felt like he'd just gotten off a five hour ride on a mega loop rollercoaster.

"Are you all right?"  His world spun again as he tried to focus on the approaching figure of Jeremy Fitzgerald.

"I-" he stumbled forward and had it not been for the other guard's quick reflexes he'd have crashed face-first on the floor.

"Good thing I came looking for you, huh?"

Feeling his world finally stop spinning, he gave the other man a quizzical look," How'd you know I'd be here?"

"I believe somebody once mentioned that he liked the old animatronics better..."

"Oh, y-yeah," blushing in embarrassment, the slightly older guard pulled away and under Jeremy's watchful eye stood on his own.  Nodding his thanks he headed for the door, Jeremy close behind.  The other guard didn't want to stay around the broken and dismantled bots any longer than he had to.

Honestly, Jeremy never even wanted to set foot in this place again.  It was only for his own piece of mind that he had come to watch the Toys being dismantled.  After what he had seen this week, he needed to know those things would never move again before he could even consider getting a decent night's sleep anytime soon.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Look at what that place has done to you!  You're not even thirty and you've got gray hair and stress lines that belong on a man twice your age!" his friend and longtime roommate lectured, holding up his girlfriend's hand mirror to the guard's face to emphasize his point.

"Has it really been ten years?"

The other man sighed and put the mirror down.  "It's not too late to start over.  Stop punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault," his friend fixed him with a glare that promised fierce retribution if he tried to disagree.

Shoulders slumping forward, the guard sighed heavily.  "I'll do it."

Still not entirely convinced, his friend handed him the phone, "call your boss now."

"I should really tell him in person-"

"Like you did the last time?  Or the time before that?  No way man.  Everytime you go in that building to quit, you change your mind and it's months before you'll listen to reason again.  No, you are gonna call him now and quit right where I can hear you do it."

Another sigh.  "Fine."  As much as he hated to admit it, his friend was right.

Dialing up his boss' home, he felt a knot forming in his stomach with every ring.   It only took a couple rings before the line picked up and he began talking immediately before he could lose his nerve.  "Ah, hello, hello! Uh sir, I ah- I......I quit."

"It's about damn time."

"What?"  Well that wasn't the reaction he'd expected.

He heard his boss sigh on the other end.  "I wondered when you'd finally get fed up with all this crap and go.  Just do me a favor and give me a week to get your replacement.  You've done night shift long enough, you can record some kind of, I don't know, training messages for the new guy okay?"

"Sure.  I can do that."  He'd done some for the spring suits back when he was a new employee and later when the suits were retired, so it shouldn't be a problem.  "You're ah, taking this...kinda well sir."

"No one can be as selfless as you for that long without reaching their limit.  You've gone through more for this place than it deserves."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

He'd have to be careful with his recording, if he came on too strong, the new guy might think he was crazy and cut the recording too early.  But if he was too vague, then that would be a disaster too.  'I wish the boss had let me do these when he tried to switch me back to days-'  Taking a quick drink from a water bottle he shook the thought from his head, there was no sense wishing for things in the past.  All he could do now was move forward.  Clearing his throat, he pressed the record button and began...

x-x-x-x

"He's leaving?!" the spirits cried, their voices filled with shock and fear.

The Marionette nodded, "wIlL yOu KeEp HiM oR WiLl YoU lEt HiM gO?"

"He's always been here."  Foxy.

"He's the only one we can trust."  Bonnie.

"He promised to keep us safe."  Chica.

"He's not allowed to leave."  Freddy.

"I won't lose him now.  He's MINE."  Golden Freddy.

x-x-x-x

Flashing images of a black-eyed Bonnie, a human-eyed Freddy, and an eyeless Golden Freddy suddenly flashed across the tablet screen, the words "IT'S ME." popping up before, inbetween, and after each image.  The sound of pounding footsteps on his left, a feeling of being watched on the right, before the thought was even finished he'd pressed both door buttons.  Checking the right-side light he found Chica staring at him through the window while Foxy banged on the left door.

Determined, he settled back into the chair and flicked through the cameras with the ease of familiarity.  "I will get out of here.  I'm finally going to move on with my life."

Mocking laughter echoed through the tiny room.  Unseen, a spectral form clad in purple hissed in his ear, "YOU CAN'T."

-

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

May 12, 2015

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Aaaand we all know how this ends...three nights later.

Once again, if you haven't read Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down then now's a great time to do it and if you like that one, then move on to the sequel, Full Circle.

#fnaf #phone guy #jeremy fitzgerald #fanfic #five nights at freddy's

[undercovermcdfan]

the calm before the storm | prologue 2

title: Vylad: 1:38 pm, Saturday

chapter summary: Vylad isn’t a fan of the waiting game.

a/n: it’s our trusty man of the hour, Vylad. Love this boy to pieces. Thankfully he won’t become pieces because he’s essential to the plot. *Finger guns* you might read some hints who might be showing up in the main series /eye emojis just a heads up. Also, this chapter took me five times to rewrite ;;

warning(s): mild violence, zombies, established relationships, mutual pining, character building

prologue: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

main series: —-

check it out on ao3

“Don’t worry. I’ll be out in a sec,” Laurance’s voice came, light and affectionate—strained as well, with the laughter of children in the background. “Make yourself comfortable. Sasha is working as receptionist today. Chat with her.”

Vylad sighed, throwing a side way glance at Sasha; the fair-haired receptionist gave sugary sweet fake smile with a wave of her impossibly long nails. “…Please hurry.”

Laurance laughed. “I love you too.”

Ending the call, his eyes connected with Sasha again. She dropped the smile, opting to obnoxiously pop her chewing gum his direction and sat forward. Her chin, propped by her hand, and cat-like amusement played as she narrowed her eyes.

“So… Scarf boy. Almost an hour and a half late to your date, huh,” Sasha called out to him, brow raised and judgement clear.

It wasn’t him to really butt heads with people; in life, those who were a pain, he simply left behind and carried on his way. Except, he couldn’t do much leaving behind and carrying on as he liked. Life tied down by a relationship warranted, at times, to be anchored by a person he much rather not see again—and though this was the first partnership he had where the seriousness they felt for each other didn’t allow for such easy deal breakers, Vylad could feel the bitterness sweep the moment Sasha was reminded as a force that existed and no way leaving his immediate circle he knew now as Laurance’s friends.

She’s like a sister to me, Laurance would say, waving off her biting statement with a laugh, she isn’t a peach but she’s reliable and smarter than she likes to lead on. Family, Sasha was—and with the weeks turned into months turned into moving in status, Vylad had to acknowledge she wasn’t going anywhere for a very long time.

He wasn’t honeyed delight himself, mind you, but Sasha’s unmoved personality and sharpen tongue left him eyeing the woman carefully in distaste. She wasn’t loud, but her statements always left a blow if you thought too personally about her opinions. Pushy, forward, and the worse of all, vindictive when she truly in the mood.

Like the boredom she was having at this moment.

Looking back, it’s bizarre to think how far they came but standing stagnant in their dynamic—and Travis always put it, yet containing this cat-and-mouse dynamic, stabilized normal after the end of the world was upon them. No, he wouldn’t say he hated her—too strong of a word, but a step down or two from that would summarize what he felt.

She smiled with her eyes, harpy as she was, wouldn’t let him back. “Are you gonna explain why? Or do I have to assume why?”

“Traffic. West side, near Meteli road—it’s blocked,” Vylad explained, “All that time you spend looking at your phone or other people’s business, I’d figured you would be on top of the news.”

She fell silent for a moment—but not long, certainly not long enough for Vylad to savor this small bit of peace. Her smile was wiry but the flash of anger was clear in her eyes; she didn’t enjoy people biting back, especially at her. “I don’t know why I expect you to say something, anything interesting and yet…” she sighed, shrugging her shoulders, “Laurance has to see something in you.”

And that was the end of the conversation.

He shot her an irate glare but decided not to ruin his already soured mood and opt to walk away to the seating area. If she been anybody else, he might’ve vented on his hour of being trapped in traffic. After all, today seemed to be a swarm of random riots—a peaceful march turned bloody, police handling it poorly and emotions running high with epidemic this, government conspiracies there. All he wanted was a nice meal from whatever ethnic culinarily exploration Laurance planned, taking advantage of the rec center’s vacancy today, and the two talking about their soon move-in to the new apartment, theorizing what Cadenza’s ‘shocking’ surprise was and convincing Laurance his cat wasn’t that bad. Well, maybe his cat was spawn of something of unholy but look past the claws and attitude, only love (and a hunger for quality food) held in the feline’s heart.

Approaching the seating area, he took opposite side from the people already hanging around. A couple sat in the normal seating, chatting amicably with a tall man who looked vaguely familiar.

Actually…

He recognized the woman within the trio, with her petite frame as she rested a hand on her slightly rounded belly and glowing expression framed by shorter, curly black hair—she was Aphmau. Laurance’s old college friend Aphmau to be exact. He knew of her, both from the framed pictures Laurance had in his apartment that featured his old friend group and Laurance’s gossipy can-you-believes that Vylad amusedly took note of. “She moved into the neighborhood recently” something something “Gotten pregnant, moved in with her long-term boyfriend” something something “Became one of those ‘end of the world’ is near nuts.”

Though glancing at her, she seemed not really like the doomsayers variety like seen on TV, who bought those obvious cash grabs preventive medication to defend against this so-called epidemic and cashing in ‘haven homes’ to the north.

Leaning into who Vylad assumed was her boyfriend (who had nothing really to note apart from he was… wearing sun glasses indoors), smiling brightly at the familiar white-haired man, she was excitable as she spoke but then again, wasn’t that with most conspiracies believers. Not looking the part until the topic was broached.

Truth be told, he understood bit of the anxiety people held; despite the entire parade their government kept up, you had to either be blind or chugging down the skepticism to not believe there was… something unsettling about this new pandemic sweeping across developing countries and edging their way into more industrially advanced nations. Zombies was a hot topic, people sharing shaky cams and leaking classified reports—and even if Laurance waved this off, saying if it was really that bad, the world would’ve been ravaged a year ago when the reports started coming in.

Did he agree with his boyfriend’s rebuffing the idea that the internet conspiracy junkies were right? No, not really.

But did he really buy it was as bad as said junkies were making it out to be? No, as well.

Vylad did suggest that maybe he and Laurance could spend part of the summer getting out of the city—to where, he hadn’t ironed out the details, but between the traffic-causing riots, the heightened state of stress and… nosy people being way too comfortable with barging in on their free time, frankly, anywhere was better than here.

But, looking in hindsight, he sometimes wished he thought more seriously about it. About convincing Laurance that what was happening—maybe they shouldn’t carry on their day and pay attention. Or maybe he wished he been thirty minutes, an hour, on time like he promised.

Anything to prevent the rude awakening of what happened next.

Zenix rushing in, telling Sasha to dial for the police and an ambulance, a dark stain on his gold jersey and jeans, and a bloody bat.

Aphmau’s boyfriend already on his feet and the other two, as well as himself, already on his feet.

“Vylad,” Zenix spotted him, but no arrogant smile or even a grimace—just an apprehensiveness expressed in his wide eyes, “I—“

“Is that blood? Where’s Laurance?” Vylad quickly made his way over, “Are you okay?”

“…well,” he gripped his bat, for a moment looking ashamed, “I don’t… I mean.” He heaved a sigh, nodded towards the hall that lead to the gymnasium, “He’s with the kids. I… I think you go—help him. He’s trying to hold it together but…”

Vylad hesitated, seeing the rattled state of Zenix—while not much younger than himself, still seen fondly as the ‘kid’ of their group; this was an unusual sight of Zenix’s more subdued state left knot twisted up in his stomach—squeezing his shoulder, he left in the direction of the gymnasium. Behind him, he could hear a deep voice grunt, “Travis go.” and, who assumed was Travis, sputtering but meekly agreed.

Vylad glanced back, sighing but he supposed if something happened, help was appreciated.

.

.

He wasn’t sure what he was prepared for, but it wasn’t for this.

Pushing open the heavy gym door, he’s hit with something rancid and awful—was something rotting.

Then he saw the body.

A rotund man, face down; he was barely clothed with torn up, dirty white wife-beater and underpants, skin dull and a paper cutter imbedded in his neck. His head, busted up and where the pool of oozing, brown liquid too dark and unhuman to be called blood.

Unmoving.

Vylad felt bile raise—and behind him, the man who followed him named Travis made a retching sound.

His eyes darted around. Whimpering, he heard whimpering—and guessing from where the footprints lead, one which went towards the locker room while the other went out the doors, he started to approach the locker room off to his left. Vylad glanced back for a moment towards Travis, who looked an image of panic and a second away from succumbing to sickness. “Hey…” Travis said, softly, as he hung back a couple steps behind, “U-Uh, Vylad was it?”

He nodded, reaching for the door—Travis grabbed at his shoulder, holding up a hand.

“Do you think this is a good idea?”

His brow furrowed, squinting.

“I mean—you… uh… you know what that body is, right? There’s a dead person just,” Travis heaved a sighed, quickly taking back his hand as Vylad’s squint turned into a glare, “We should call out first. Just in case.”

“…” he turned to the door, banging his fist against, as he called out: “Laurance? Are you in there? It’s me,” he twisted the door knob, “I’m opening the door.”

He felt breathe seized; like Zenix, Laurance was drenched in the dark blood. A child softly cried, as Laurance gingerly had his hand pressed against the child’s arm with a small towel. The other children huddled by the door, one clutching a bat—a little boy, with curly, mousy brown hair and looked a little too young to be here alone. Beside him, a tanned boy with curly brown who looked older and had a hand on his shoulder—there was two more beside him, a girl with dirty blond hair pulled into a pony tail, a small boy with light blond hair and blue eyes that vaguely reminded Vylad of his older brother, and lastly another boy who leaned on the heavy-set side, who stepped in front of the blond boy and girl.

Laurance gave him a single nod, a pensive expression on his face. Sandwiched between his shoulder and ear, the phone was there, and a female voice squeaked on the other side.

“Yes, I’m still here—uh, I’ll try contacting the child’s guardians, again,” Laurance said, his voice even tone and professional. The voice squeaked again. “I know. I was told that both were at home, Dale, their father, was taking care of his wife, Molly?” The voice gave a questioning tone. “Fever? They said she couldn’t even get out of bed. A bad cut—“

The heavy set boy spoke up, “A bite. A crazy man bit her last night.”

“Uh, correction. A bite.”

There’s a pause. Then the voice asked another question.

“Since eleven?” Laurance furrowed his brows, glancing at Vylad who stepped closer. Vylad whispered to Laurance a “I got this”, pressing his hand onto the wound, allowing Laurance to focus on the phone call.

“…I… I don’t have an address—hey, are you sending an ambulance or not?” Laurance said hotly, pacing away as he disappeared into an office.

Vylad took a chance to studied the kid—brown hair as well, though his dark eyes were unfocused and his face shined under the lighting. Vylad frowned, pitying the young boy—he barely looked older than twelve, yet… not much fear or worry shown on his face. If anything, he looked drained. “Hello,” Vylad quietly began, noting in the background he could hear Laurance rummaging around for something in the office while Travis took up conversing with the children by the wall, “Could I get a name? I’m Vylad, Laurance’s… partner.”

The child flashed him a confused look. But didn’t question him, instead opting to answer, “Brian. And I know you—you’re the guy on Mister Zvahl’s phone, right?”

Vylad smiled a little at that, nodding.

“Huh,” Brian gave him a look over, twisting his mouth. “You’re short.”

Vylad shrugged. “It runs in my family. My brothers were lucky, but… somebody had to miss out,” he glanced over his shoulder, “So… I’m guessing that’s your brothers and sister?”

Brian nodded. “Alexis is my sister… Kyle, Levin and Malachi, um, are kinda?” He shrugged, “They live with us and it’s pretty nice. Malachi is five, so is Levin.”

“And Kyle?”

“Six. He’s older than Alexis by a month,” Brian gave a soft smile, glancing at his hand wrapped in a towel. “He’s bit of a knucklehead but really cool.”

Vylad hummed. He was about to ask another question when Travis walked up to him, tapping his shoulder.

“Dude,” he said. “Do you think I could borrow your phone? I need to call… a friend.”

Vylad shot him a look. But the desperation was clear, so Vylad sighed, nodding to his hoodie’s pocket.

Travis stepped a little bit away, giving himself privacy as he said in a soft voice, “Pick up Katie… pick up…”

“Vylad?” Brian asked in a low voice, hesitating before staring directly in his eyes, “I have a question.”

Vylad hummed in acknowledge, giving the small boy a smile.

“I starting to feel… sick. Um,” Brian glanced at his wound worriedly, “I heard on the news people die from these sorts of bites. Get really sick and die.”

Vylad opened his mouth, then shut it. Brian continued, prying Vylad’s hands away as he pulled the towel from the wound— a gnarly bite that had darken skin around it. “Mister Zvahl tried to help,” he softly said, “but the man… he bit me.”

Vylad, in that moment, then wished he had Laurance’s zealous disbelief towards the epidemic. That he could easily tell the boy not to worry, that once the ambulance got there, he’ll be taken care of.

It wasn’t… a moment he was proud of. A child, looking him in the eyes, despite the boy registered the mortality that might be occurring, still had hope for reassuration.

Vylad pressed the towel back onto the wound, gave a weak smile.

Laurance, thankfully, came back at that point—armed with a meager first aid kit and phone put away, he patted Brian’s head and told him everything was going to be okay.

But the boy knew it wasn’t.

Vylad knew it wasn’t.

Asking for his phone from Travis after he gave up on contacting ‘Katie’, decided it was time to call a familiar number—a red-headed girl, with a bright smile and blue eyes appeared as it dialed up.

“Hello? Vylad?”

“Cadenza,” Vylad said, calmly, “Are you at home?”

“Nope. I’m actually kinda busy right now,” there’s a muffled voice, then Cadenza laughed. “Do you think… you can call back in an hour?”

“I… Cadenza something happened at the rec center.”

He got her attention. “Did something happened to Laurance? Was there an accident.”

“A dead body. I don’t… have all the details but… I think you should get home. Right now. Once the police get here, I’m going to try to get Laurance to your house. Is Lucinda home?”

“Yeah. She took the day off—getting her hair done up later for tonight’s dinner…”

“Good. Get home as soon as you can. We might need to cancel dinner tonight.”

Cadenza made a confused noise, but resigned, she said, “We’ll see. Though traffic isn’t going to be merciful, ha.”

He couldn’t share her laugh. Instead, he gave a sigh, giving her a soft goodbye as he ended the call.

It would be later, years later in fact, where Cadenza would joke no matter how annoyed she felt at the call—partly because of Vylad’s vagueness on Laurance and what happened at the rec, partly because of other reasons—she happy she headed her brother-in-law’s pushy suggestion. Even though it was Aphmau and Laurance’s leaderships that’ll lead to their safety, this gut-reaction to make this call…

Safe to say, it was the right one to make.

He turned back to the Travis, Laurance, the kids— the smallest boy, Malachi, eyed him curiously. Vylad gave him a small smile. Brightly, the six year old returned it.

#aphmau #minecraft diaries #minecraft mystreet #aarmau #travlyn #vylance #my writing #zombie au #told y'all i'll have a second chapter--- let's hope for a 3rd soon!

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Arranged {4}

Yahya Abdul Mateen II x OFC Nyorie Kane

Warning: Mild Cursing. Plot

Words: 2.7k

Summary: Yahya is thirty-three, and his friends and family all seem to believe that it is long overdue for him to have a wife. He’s been set up more times than he can count and with his busy schedule and rising Hollywood star, it is becoming even more difficult to meet people, well people who aren’t looking for a come up. In the beginning, he said he didn’t want anything serious; his motto was “I’m was here for a good time not a long time.” Then it became he didn’t want anything that would distract him from where he wanted to go and what he wanted to accomplish. Now that his fame is rising and he’s approaching a sweet spot in his career he decides what the hell the time might be right.

In comes “A Match”, an exclusive matchmaking company run by his best friend Ramel’s wife Tamika. He gives Tamika and Ramel free rein and all his trust to find him, someone, he’d mesh well with. Instead of going through her clientele Tamika has just the right woman in mind, her best friend, Nyorie. Things are done a little unorthodox at “A Match” though. This unconventional route is credited for a near-perfect success rate.

Note: I’ve only tagged those who have expressed to be on a forever tag list. 

***None of the images are my own***

**Loosely Proofread/Edited**

**Interactive**

Need To Catch Up?| Chapter one | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*

-Chapter Four-

Three days later he was staring at a stack of papers that was the contract agreement. Included in the agreement was also the usual fee for services. Tameka was making bank especially if this was the standard fee for every client. Among the papers was an extensive explanation of what she did, what she didn’t do, how she did what she did and what was expected. There was a code of conduct as well as termination policies. Inside the welcome packet there he found all the information about the different stages and the steps in each stage. This was very detailed and when he assessed it all, it wasn’t a completely illogical way to approach dating.

 Yes, it was absolutely nuts to agree to marry someone without seeing them, but the saying love is blind was coined for a reason. No, it probably was never meant to be taken so literal, but the truth was the same. Love was blind, love should be found and established with the purest cornerstones. His only hang-up was if this was something that was logical for him and who he was now. He wasn’t some local baker, or a teacher or even a city planner anymore. He was an actor. Now most places he went, he was recognized, approached and watched.

 Yeah he could go incognito eighty percent of the time and he was glad for it but he’d come to accept the luxuries of life before were not his luxuries now. He’d traded privacy for paparazzi, and traded clipboards for scripts. He still hadn’t gotten over the differences in his life from a year ago to today.

 The more he flipped through the papers and read them over carefully he thought more and more about what the road would look like moving forward with this. He thought about the kind of connection he would want with a woman and the likelihood of finding it like this. He went up and down and around it for what felt like hours. He talked himself into it ten times and out of it ten times. He’d even written a pros and cons list and had thrown it out and done it again too many times. By the time he’d come up with a decision he was fed up with thinking about it. He knew it was the fear of the unknown at this point. The only thing that was in his head at this point was doing the damn thing. So that’s what he told himself as he tapped out a text to Tameka.

 MSG: Let’s do it Meeka. Let’s do the damn thing!

 He shook his head and tried to shake off how ridiculous he felt. He knew he was ready for it, but he just had to get out of his head with it and allow whatever was meant for him to freely come.

 MSG Tameka: All right then. Fill out the paperwork, bring it back, fax it, courier whatever you choose. Once that’s processed we’ll start your screenings. Be mindful we’re going to be digging deep into your personality. Truthful answers are the only answers acceptable, especially if you want success.

MSG: Got it. Thank you Meeka.

MSG Tameka: You’re like my brother Ya. Anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.

 He’d known Tameka for over ten years. They were similar. In the beginning stages of Ramel’s relationship, he took it upon himself to get to know her to be sure she was right for his best friend. It didn’t take him long to be convinced she would be a good fit for Ramel. Since then they’d gotten closer and she really had turned into someone he considered a sister.

 He sat there in his living room filling out the first page of information.

 “Name; Yahya Abdul Mateen II. Nicknames; Ya, Hya. Date of Birth; July 15, 1986. Gender; grade A man baby. Family; mother and one brother, four sisters. Ethnicity and Race; Black and Proud. Height; six-three. Religion; Muslim. Gender you are seeking; female. Marital Status; Single. Income.” 

It was there he first paused as he tried to think of a response. Was he supposed to put his current net worth, what he had in the bank, what he was averaging per movie? He was probably thinking about too deeply, but he didn’t know what to put, so he put something basic and carried on.

 “Comfortable.” As he got to the second page it got a little more personal. There was a question asking about his family history then another inquiring about his blood type. After that, it went into physical illnesses or mental illnesses. When he saw the big leap from there to asking about communicable diseases he blinked because it wasn’t even page six and already things were getting real.

 He spent the next forty minutes or so answering the second, third and fourth pages that asked everything from STDs to medications currently taking. It was pretty detailed which he understood. These were important questions to know before matching someone. He zoomed through the questions about the reason for his decision for matching, and what his expectations were. He’d set the bar pretty low. He wasn’t sure what to expect so he decided to expect nothing spectacular. You can’t be disappointed if you never really set your hopes up, right?

By page six the real hard-hitting questions began. “What are you looking for in an ideal match?” He thought it would be a difficult question, thought he would have no idea what to write but that wasn’t the case. He found himself writing away. 

“A woman who is down to earth, funny, honest and smart. A woman who knows what she wants from life and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. a woman who is caring, understanding, passionate, supportive, ambitious. Someone who is silly and has a silly sense of humor and doesn’t take themselves seriously. Confidence is major for me, someone who loves music as much as I do, has a great attitude, positive, classy but definitely kinda hood.”

 He reread it and nodded his approval and continued.

 “What’s your type?” A wide smile spread across his face because he knew his type. He’d imagined her several times over the months. “Curvy and thick in all the right places, meat on the bones, beautiful lips, expressive eyes, nice smile, shorter than me, fashionable, black and proud in everything that means.”

 Thinking about his ideal woman and had him thinking what if Tameka actually pulled it off and found someone that was just right. What if in a few weeks his ass found a wife and not just another ex. That tripped him up and had him stepping away from the paperwork for a few minutes to collect himself and his thoughts with a glass of Henny. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready, or he was reluctant for change, it was the reality of a possibility.

 When he returned to the papers he earnestly answered the remainder of the questions that ranged from a full six pages about him and his dreams, wants, desires and another six pages about his ideal mate and what he would want her dreams, wants and desires to be. When he was finally finished it was almost three in the morning and he was exhausted. He’d felt like he’d done a mental marathon. There were questions in this packet he hadn’t thought about in years and at all. he took that as a good sign. The more in-depth the questions the better the outcome, right?

  ~~~~~~~~~

A day later he was sitting in an office with a couple Tameka introduced as Dr. Rachel Abramson and Dr. Martin Abramson. They were in charge of mental and emotional screening and preparedness. His first impression was that he would sit in a comfy chair and discuss his thoughts and feelings about beginning the process. For the first hour that is exactly what happened. They had him begin and assured him now was the time to get all his questions out. So, since they wanted him to ask questions he did.

 “Are the two of you really that good to have so many success stories? There has to be one story of complete failure.”

 The two of them looked at each other and then back to him before they busted out laughing. After a few moments, they finished and Martin spoke first.

 “Tameka said you’d be a little apprehensive about the process.”

 “She sure wasn’t lying,” Rachel added.

 “Ha-ha-ha, very funny. You can’t blame me, can you? This is pretty peculiar.”

 “Okay here’s the thing. On a scale of normal and insane, this is insane when you think of it from a societal norm perspective. We’ve all been taught and conditioned that we have to do things one way in order to find the love and happiness we want and deserve. So we go our entire lives on this hamster wheel trying it over and over and over no matter how many times we fail. No matter how many times we don’t find that love or happiness we want but heartache or loneliness. At what point do you change your perspective? At what point do you start to wonder what are societal norms doing for me? Here we’re changing up the norms. There is no reason why a different approach cannot work,” Rachel finished.

 “We’re doing a different approach for the same goal. The only difference is our approach actually works and it continues to work. We’re that good at what we do because of the process and the screenings, these chats. We now know you want to be a believer, but you have to be shown the way. That will go into your profile and into the decision for those we cross with you for a match,” Martin explained.

 Taking a few moments for their words to register he nodded then shrugged. “All right. I’m here. Let’s do it.”

 That was when they began to dig deeper pulling him to talk about his entire life story, relieve every decision he’d ever made, every experience. He thought about things he hadn’t thought about in years. They had a way of bringing deeper meaning to his experiences, his struggles. They gave him worst-case scenarios and stressful situations, questioned his decisions in relationships and life. They dissected everything and the whole time they wrote note after note and exchanged look after look. After another two hours, he realized just how deep this process got. He felt like he’d just gone through the most extensive counseling session he’d ever had.

 “How do you feel?” Tameka studied him with a slight “yikes” face.

 “Damn that was intense.”

 “Yeah, Rachel and Martin really get in there and tear you apart and put you under a microscope then put you back together. Usually, everyone who sees them says they feel refreshed leaving.”

 “Refreshed? Meeka I feel like I just got a soul cavity search.” She laughed and shook her head.

 “Boy, you so stupid. Seriously, it’s all right. It’s like this for everyone,” she assured.

 “Are all screenings like this?”

 “I wouldn’t say that. This one usually puts everyone through a wringer, you’re facing a lot of things, it makes you doubt yourself; it’s supposed to. It’s part of the process. The worst is behind you. You have three more screenings and then we’ll move on to the fun stuff.”

 “What exactly is the fun stuff?”

 Tameka smiled widely and zipped her lips. He didn’t have a good feeling about whatever it was she was talking about.

 Sure enough, four days later he’d felt like he’d actually gone through the wringer. He’d completed the following screenings that focused on his potential mate love languages and expectations, and sexual expectations and intelligence. It was definitely an intricate process. From what he could tell those he’d dealt with really knew what they were doing.

 After a quick trip to New York for work and a trip with his brother and sister to Vegas for some downtime, gambling and silliness he felt refreshed. 

Today he dribbled the ball around the court with Ramel and crew he tried to keep his mind off of things. Tameka said they would go through his responses and screenings and put together a complete assessment that they would then use to go through their database of potential women he would mesh well with. He knew the processes couldn’t be rushed but he was getting a little anxious after three days and no notification on the status.

 He was a little off his game and Rashawn was taking advantage of that. He stole the ball and dropped a perfect fadeaway bucket. He stood there shaking his head.

 “What the hell has got your mind so outta the game you let Rashawn of all people steal your ball?”

 They laughed at him together and he had to admit he deserved it. He walked to the sideline and dropped onto one of the bleachers. His boys sat around him taking sips of their water.

 “Is this about this matchmaking?”

 Rashawn and Tyrell both sounded off. “Hold up, matchmaking? Are you getting set up?”

 Dropping his head back he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want them all to know in case it didn’t work out and he was in fact unmatchable.

 “Yeah, I was trying something different, thought why not.”

 “Okay. We didn’t even know you wanted someone. Why you ain’t say something?”

 He shrugged and rolled his head around. “No reason.”

 “So that’s why your jump shot is shit and your ball handling is even worse,” Tyrell chided. He laughed at the insult to injury, he was already feeling like crap.

 “Man kick me while I’m down. Great.”

 “Leave him alone. Tameka’s process is tough. In the early days when she was giving me the run down, she blew my mind with how detailed everything is,” Ramel defended.

 “Right. Damn, I had no idea. After four days I felt like she’d unlocked a whole nother level to my personality I didn’t even know I had.” They all laughed but he wasn’t joking. He was woke before but now he was third eye woke.

 “So you’re waiting for results now?”

 “I’m waiting for them to finish analyzing my assessments. I think they’re screening me with potentials. I don’t even know.”

 “You ready to meet someone? I mean you could have yourself a girl in a month’s time,” Rashawn voiced.

 “He could have himself more than a girl in three months’ time,” Ramel corrected.

 “Yeah, I’m ready. The interesting thing is throughout the whole process of them analyzing me and asking me every question ever invented it had me really seeing how empty my life has been and how stuck I was. It opened my eyes to show me what I had to offer and that I was ready to offer it.”

 They all nodded fulling understanding what he meant. He was glad he wasn’t friends with men who ran from commitments and dogged out their women. He was glad he was surrounded by levelheaded mature men who sometimes acted like complete idiots behind their wives’ backs.

 “Well, I hope Tameka can work some miracle because it will have to be one hell of a woman who keeps your attention cause God knows you got that ADD,” Tyrell piped up.

 Again, they all laughed together, at his expense.

 A few more days passed with him working even more. He went on more and more auditions and his name was being kicked around quite a lot. According to his agent and manager, his name was brought up a lot for different projects. The ones that had him super excited was the fourth installment to The Matrix and a Candyman remake. He grew up on Candyman and damn near tripped down the steps when he’d read the email about it.

 The days passed quickly, and he traveled between NY, Miami and LA all for auditions, meetings, interviews, and photoshoots. he was busy but in the back of his mind, he wondered where he was in the process with A Match. The longer he went without hearing something, the more he worried that he was unmatchable.

 As he was pulling into LAX from his recent trip to London Tameka’s message caught him off guard.

 MSG Tameka: Great news. When can you come in?

 His nerves went into high gear as one thing repeated in his head.

 “So it begins.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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#arranged fic #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x reader #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x you #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x black reader #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

[tessatechaitea]

Black Condor #2

The Sky Pirate is definitely an incel.

I don't want to shit on incels because people who can't get laid aren't the only jerks who turn into monsters when they can't get their way. I also don't want to make it seem like not getting laid is the worst thing that can happen to a person but have you ever not gotten laid when you really, really wanted to fuck? It's the worst! Now think about not being able to get laid for thirty to forty years. Do you think you're going to give one shit about climate change?! Of course not! That's why Sky Pirate is carbon emitting all over the fucking place on the cover! Sky Pirate doesn't need Black Condor to punch him in the face; he needs him to suck his balls. On the other hand, getting laid isn't that great, I bet.

I don't know why the guy isn't coming in his pants too.

Back in 1992, we didn't have incels. We just had guys who understood they were never going to get laid so they memorized all the stats of Fiend Folio monsters no Dungeon Master would ever use, like the achaierai or the umpleby or the tween or the snyad or the twill or the tabaxi or the qullan or the mantari or the gryph. Those are actual monsters but I probably could have just made up a bunch of nonsense words and nobody would have fucking noticed. Fiend Folio had a lot of shitty monsters. You know who wouldn't know that? Somebody who was getting laid in 1992! Something else somebody getting laid in 1992 wouldn't understand? Jerking off to the caryatid column!

I had to steal this image from the Internet because I've packed away all of my D&D manuals.

We really need legalized prostitution in this country. Also, we need to remove any negative stigma for going to a prostitute. Also we need male prostitutes that are good at sex so that women don't have to hook up with random guys who are probably terrible at sex when they want to bust whatever the female version of nuts are. Inside nuts? It's got to be tough being an incel in that even if you think you might finally get the chance to get laid, you know you're going to be awful at it and probably ruin a second chance of getting laid. Because who wants to fuck a guy whose underwear looks like the aftermath of a visit from your friendly neighborhood Spider-man when you go to pull his dick out? True story (I have to preface this story that way so that people actually think it's true even though they should realize I'm an unreliable narrator): when I finally met a woman who wanted desperately to fuck me, I obviously wasn't going to be any good at sex. I had learned to jerk off quickly in the quiet moments nobody was in the house (often to the scene in Return of the Living Dead (on VHS tape) when the punk girl dances naked on the crypt). So when this lovely and accommodating woman pulled my cock out and began kissing and sucking it, I wanted to explode immediately. But I knew I couldn't do that! I had to hold out! So I held out for like ten or fifteen seconds and, in my head, I thought, "That's good enough, right?!" Then I blew my load in her face and she was all, "Whoa. Um. Hey. What the fuck?" Actually, she wanted to fuck me so badly that she didn't care that I was almost certainly going to prematurely ejaculate every time we fucked until I finally decided I wanted to spend more time replaying Ultima IV than fucking poorly. Our sex actually did get better over time (and by "our," I obviously mean "my") but that was only because I'd come in her almost immediately and then, through pure will force rivaling that of Hal Jordan himself, I would just get hard again while trying not to let my flaccid member slip out of her. Luckily she could orgasm through penetration only because just imagine how bad I was at oral sex too! Um, that wasn't really a true story! I just have a great imagination! But then, you knew that because of all the times I mentioned being a virgin. Which was totally a lie too! I've been laid lots! And I was always great at it. Black Condor's grandfather can't get over his grandson not wanting to be a part of his old man secret society so he's sending an army of "shock troopers" out to capture him.

Has nobody told him about airplanes?

I can't stop staring at the look of pure joy on the woman's face in the panel where Black Condor is rescuing the campers. I'm actually fucking jealous of a fictional character in a drawing because how the fuck does she get to be so fucking happy?! Nearly the entire first half of this issue is dedicated to the origin of The Sky Pirate. My guess that he's an incel wasn't too far off the mark. He was a nerdy college kid working in hypersonic flight who desperately wanted to be part of the free love movement. He was eventually let in on the condition that he do all the work and earn them all the money, like how Brian was only allowed to be part of The Breakfast Club if he wrote everybody else's essays while they all hooked up. In the end, he made them all rich while he was a fugitive from the government. They did the thing all of the fucking asshole Boomers did: they gave up their ideals and convictions for wealth beyond measure at the expense of everybody else. So, twenty years later, he's returned to destroy them.

So this guy's a hero! Why is Black Condor trying to stop him on the cover?!

Black Condor is a good guy so I bet he winds up teaming up with Sky Pirate after the initial Marvel misunderstanding. I'm almost positive he does because I purchased the third issue and there's no way I would have kept reading this series if my president The Sky Pirate was beaten and tossed in jail. Even as a randy twenty-one year old spending nearly every night of the week pretending I was a grey elf named Paladine Greystoke, I was completely sympathetic to the underdogs of our fucked up capitalist society. Sky Pirate plans on stealing as much money from The Merry Men (what the asshole Boomers called themselves because they're so unimaginative they had to steal Kesey's groups' name) as he can. But to do so, he needs to use his hypersonic weapons. Black Condor's new senses are so powerful that every time Sky Pirate uses one of his gadgets, Black Condor is overwhelmed by pain. That must be why he needs to beat the shit out of Sky Pirate. It's less about justice and more about getting him to shut the fuck up. I get it! I once had a neighbor who hung up industrial sized wind chimes outside my bedroom window. And every time I snuck over to take them down, the assholes would just put them back up. They're lucky I didn't go Black Condor all over their asses and swoop in with a flurry of uppercuts! Instead I just cut out off the clapper and made the chimes impotent. Black Condor shows up and asks Sky Pirate what he's doing. Sky Pirate is all, "Fuck you. I don't have to answer to you, you nipple exposing weirdo!" And then he flies off. But Black Condor won't let it drop, albeit reluctantly! He flies after him because he's a nosy jerk. Can't he just let it drop? The noise only happened the one time. I get how terrible noises can be; I'm pretty sensitive to a lot of sounds myself (fuck every guy with an acoustic guitar, by the way). But maybe wait to see if it happens again before really confronting this guy. Also, I'm sure he has a reason for blowing a hole in a building! He told Black Condor it was personal business and it's not like Black Condor has been deputized by anybody except maybe Park Ranger Ned. I'm totally on Sky Pirate's side right now! Judging by the cover of Issue #3, Sky Pirate is going to blast Black Condor with more hypersonics and Black Condor is going to plunge into the river in a scary cliffhanger where the reader thinks Black Condor may have drowned.

Okay, I'm torn. I like Sky Pirates revenge on capitalistic Boomer shitheads. But I also empathize with Black Conder's sensitivity to noise!

Since this issue is definitely going to end how I predicted since, as I said, I'm looking at the cover of Issue #3 right now where Black Condor is emerging from the river, I bet Issue #3 sees Sky Pirate and Black Condor quickly finding common ground and working together to defeat the Merry Men. Also, I hope Sky Pirate becomes an occasional Black Condor teammate. Maybe he'll take up residence with Ned and Eileen in the Pine Barrens! And then the issue ends with Black Condor plummeting into the river. But it also ends with possibly my favorite "Next Issue Blurb" of all time!

No wonder I bought issue #3! I had to see if the sun imploded! Spoiler alert: it didn't.

Black Condor #2 Rating: A-! Holy shit! A comic book with a better than average passing grade! I must really be feeling charitable seeing as how it's my 48th birthday. Yes, that's right, assholes. I'm fucking old! But I'm still cool, right? And totally sexually active, like a mythic beast! Oh, before I go, here's the back cover because, yeesh. Put on some make-up, dudes.

I loved my Grandmother with all my heart. She was possibly the most perfect human being to ever walk this planet. She was Catholic but I'm fairly certain she practiced birth control based on the differences in age of her two (only two!) children. Her wedding picture was of her in a beautiful non-wedding dress and my grandfather in a suit standing on some spiral steps at the courthouse (not a church! She also had a church wedding photograph but mostly due to the pressure of social politics and religion (I like to believe, anyway!)). She distanced herself from the Catholic church because of the way church members treated and talked terribly about Jewish people. She was the greatest. But the only time she ever disappointed me was when Gene Simmons was on Donahue and she said, "My, that's a handsome man!"

#Black Condor #Brian Augustyn #Rags Morales #DC #DC Comics #Sky Pirate

[thinkhostel]

BACKPACKING FEMALE

If you are a female traveller then backpacking will be one of the great experiences of your life, but before left home, there are some things you need to pack as a female traveller. When setting off on your trip, you need to do a lot of research to explore tips about backpacking and ask your travel partner at great lengths regarding what to expect, what to prepare yourself for, and what to bring.

On the other hand, most of the guides I read on Google was written by male backpackers. There are some things I’ve learned on the way that are just related to female backpackers and I wish females should know about the things to pack before leaving their home. So, that’s why I make a decision to write them all down in this easy little guide. I really hope that all the tips I mention below will help all you gals as you find out and get our huge lovely world. Have a safe journey, and see you on the way!

If it’s your first time backpacking, or require a reminder on the basics, be sure to read our article. Below are my best travel tips that will definitely help female backpackers!

Hiking Gear & Camping:

Ensure you pack comfortably, you have a quality pad and sleeping bag, you know how to set up your tent, and you know how your water filter and cooktop work. In addition to, note that there are particular female options for sleeping bags and backpacks that can give better performance and an extra comfy fit than men’s styles.

Shoes & Clothing

Ensure you have clothing suitable for your destination and for the climate. For females, fast-drying underwear is of specific note because it aids you to avoid urinary tract and yeast infections. In addition to, be sure your feet and shoes are pretty comfortable.

Hygiene Items

Besides, basics like personal wipes as well as hand sanitizer, female do have a few particular gear considerations for hygiene.

Safety Items

Safety Signal: This can be a deterrent to both humans and animals as well as a way to call for any type of help.

Bear Spray: This might come in handy for bear attacks.

If you are a kind of girl who wants to travel alone or to extremely faraway locations, you could as well consider taking a PLB (personal locator beacon) with satellite messaging so once a day you may deliver a text(or at an already established time and date) and if anything serious occurs you can send an SOS. In addition to, while you go, always leave your full travel program with the person you trust.

Don’t Skirt Around

Every girl love dresses! If you pick the accurate kind of clothes (keep away from wool and denim), they roll down pretty small. Ideal fora party night, snapshots, Instagram images and hot days! In addition to perfect for a road journey packing list as they are so useful.

1x playsuit (navy)

1 x fancy summer dress(black)

1 x yellow (one of the favourite colour)

1 x black wrap – around

MENTAL PREPARATION:Injured or Getting Lost

Take a compass, GPS and a detailed topo map and know how to make use of them to avoid getting lost. If you don’t know how to use compass and topo maps you can search on Google for the articles. On a far away way, know early where your “escape” roads are to civilization if you get injured or sick and require to cut your trek little. There are possibilities, if you’re on a well-travelled path, anyone will stop to aid.

Aloneness

Being single for days on end can be an empowering – and challenge as well. You need to solve your difficulties your own and make decisions by yourself even without effort from others. If you wish to travel with a partner, particularly as a newbie, explore a traveller through your own family and friends or local hiking clubs. If you are single on the way, help make a group of other single hikers. Besides, if your route allows you a dog then there’s the true and tried companion.

Exercising While Travelling

If you want to do long-term backpacking female, then you need to pack a sports bra as well. So when you moved for more than one months you would need to start exercise again.

Below: I’ll suggest your some stuff that you need to buy before leaving home.

Gym trousers

Sports bra

Nike trainers

Downgraded vest top

Invest in Natural Oils

If you are planning to spend much time at the seaside in your trips you can consider buying some kind of natural pure oil like macadamia nut oil, coconut or argon to treat breeze and beach impaired hair. Only put a small size amount in your hand’s palm and scrub through your hair tips. These oils may also be naturally fragrant and are used to treat dry skin.

Physical Preparation

Spending plenty of days carrying a pack weighing over thirty pounds exceptional terrain will test you in limitless ways. In addition to, you’ll require strength coupled with a great level of circulatory suitability. A perfect pre-trip exercise idea contains the following:

Cardio exercises (hiking, elliptical training, cycling, etc.),

Training hikes with a weighted backpack (improve distance and weight over time to make energy)

Resistance exercises to make stability and strength

#thinkhostel backpacking