#la confidential imagines

[night-raven-tattler]

Hello there, I recently became a follower and I love your writing so far, keep up the great work and I hope you’re having a wonderful day

I saw that requests are open so if it’s alright, can I get headcannons of the first years (separate) and shows/movies they’d enjoy watching with the reader?

Thought it’ll be pretty fun and an excuse for me to get recommendations lol, thank you!

Hello, Aesthetic! Thank you for your kind words! This was a bit of a challenge for Mx Tattly, since they are not a huge movie person. However she hopes you still enjoy his takes. They also wrote from the perspective of the Prefect/Yuu having access to some movies from their world of origin. Enjoy!

Movie night, otherworldly edition

Characters: Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, Sebek and GN!Reader (separate)

Warnings: food mention (Epel's part)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Grim's preffered genres are: comedy, action, animation, fantasy

Grim trully is a child at heart, and all the colorful characters and scenes from animation have him hooked

He also enjoys a good laugh, especially visual gags

He barely has any attention to spare for a series, so movies are his preffered format

He would never admit it but he's a sucker for found family

Silent movie crier

Loud denier

Some favorites from your world: Home; Bolt; That one Wizard Boy Movie we Don't mention in This Household; he has a weird relationship with Ace Ventura

『••✎••』

Ace's preffered genres are: horror, thriller, action, adventure

He enjoys gorey stuff and being the guy you hide behind of when the scenes get too much, but he needs time to prepare for psychological horror

Ace is the type to look up spoilers before watching something and he tries to trick you into believing his made up version of the plot

He talks a lot during movies but hates when others do it

While he enjoys a good adventure movie, he hates superhero movies and he thinks they're silly

He prefers movies over series because he likes the format more, but he's down for a short series

Some favorites from your world: The Mummy; Jumanji (he loves making fun of it); American Psycho; Scary Movie

『••✎••』

Deuce's preffered genres are: action, adventure, animation, family movies

He is pretty easy to please, he'd watch anything that is entertaining

Definitely a Marvel fan

He also loves animation movies, the animation always leaves him awestruck

He likes movies about families and their bonds

Deuce is also surprisingly into medical dramas... but also cop dramas

He is a crier as well but only when he's just with you

Some favorites from your world: Black Panther; The Rookie; A Goofy movie; Police Academy 2

『••✎••』

Jack's preferred genres are: documentary, adventure, romance, dramas and telenovelas with a bit of nudging

Jack is the type of guy to retain various informations after watching something

He can sometimes memorise entire scenes, and he finds that habit less annoying when he watches documentaries; he likes something informative and motivational

Jack also enjoys some romance movies sometimes, but he is very picky so it's hard for him to find one he actually likes

He does, however, like to point out and comment on the weird courting habits humans have

Jack finds telenovelas and soap operas kind of nonsensical and overly dramatic, but he also gets hooked on the plot pretty quick and soon enough it would become a bit of a guilty pleasure

Some favorites from your world: David Holmes, the boy who lived; the social dilemma; Love, Simon; Yo soy Betty la fea

『••✎••』

Epel's preferred genres are: comedy, action, western, anything he can mock and make fun of

If you think Ace is bad with his mid watch commentary, Epel is 10 times worse

He mocks things in movies so often he's giving Cinema Sins a run for their money

He won't shut up even if you give him all the snacks, he'll talk while eating

He also has the most colourful, boisterous, ridiculous laughter imaginable (and I say that lovingly), so if the comedy movie is not making you laugh then Epel's laughter is

Epel is not a picky watcher so he can get behind anything that isn't too sappy

If you pull out anything with Vil on the poster though he will dematerialise from your couch

Some favorites from your world: Rush Hour; Desperado; Puss in Boots 2; any Fast and Furious movie (unfortunately)

『••✎••』

Ortho's preferred genres are: anything he finds intriguing, family movies

If anything, Ortho has a wide palate and can enjoy almost anything

He also knows how a movie ends before he watches it, but it never ruins his enjoyment

He never spoils anyone unless they try to argue with him about the direction of the plot

Most of his interest in movies came from wanting to understand human behavior better, but now he can just use them as a time killer or sleepover material

He also likes watching your reactions to the movies: how often you laugh, how often you cry, how often you reach for snacks

A favorite from your world: Big Hero 6

『••✎••』

Sebek's preferred genres are: historical films, (period) dramas, musicals with the right nudge

Listen here, musical enjoyers. Here is the most susceptible one to being convinced to join the dark side

One word: Hamilton.

Yes, he'll think the music is nonsensical, BUT he'll also tap his foot to it

AND if you say anything about teaching him something from the soundtrack to surprise Malleus with, he's all ears

He is also very quick to get songs stuck in his head: he's easy prey

All jokes aside, Sebek can be a good watch buddy when his interest is piqued

Not even he can deny when a movie has good plot and characters

He does prefer period dramas, since he has a soft spot for the setting

And historical films: a nerd do be nerding even during movie nights

Some favorites from your world: The Crown, Hamilton, Les Miserables, maybe Oppenheimer but it would be used in his anti-human agenda

『••✎••』

Speaking of Oppenheimer...

Well, let's discuss Barbenheimer.

Everyone went to watch both movies:

Ace went dressed in pink for the both of them

Deuce got confused by the "dresscode" and apologised to you for not knowing about it

Jack and Ortho enjoyed both

Epel insisted he liked Oppenheimer more but he's lying

Sebek cried at the end of Barbie

Grim is the only one who in fully in Oppenheimer's corner

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst grim #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt #no beta we die like leona's chances to the throne

[strniohoeee]

i neeeeeeddd a part two to confidential 🥺🥺 maybe where matt gets in contact with reader to give her tickets to fly her out to the next show and she's his partner in the show. they win and he fucks her good after the show and finally kisses her. he asks her out on a date and shit and it's just so cute and rough and smutty.

Confidential Pt. 2

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Matt reaches out to Y/N after almost a year of not seeing each other. He purchases her tour tickets, and well brings her backstage 🤭

Warnings⚠️: This is Smut. There’s some spit and some hair pulling, and uhhh that’s it. It’s just SMUTTY SMUT SMUT🤞🏽

Song for the imagine: Confident- Justin Bieber and Chance the Rapper

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

There’s absolutely no way this is real….I have to be dreaming…..is the Matt Sturniolo DMing me on Instagram right now??

I rub my eyes and make sure this is actually him and not some fake account fucking with me.

-Hey Y/N….cant believe it’s been almost year since I last seen you

-Hey Matt….uh yeah it’s crazy. I seen you guys are about to go on tour again

-We are! I uh actually got you pre show small talk, photo op and backstage passes and tickets to fly out to our first show

-YOURE LYING

-never! And you will be my partner this time….I don’t make the rules

-OMFG WHAT THIS IS INSANE YES YES IM THERE

-Good!

That was about three weeks ago, and right now I was in LA getting ready for their first show that Matt paid for…..this is not real life AT ALL.

Pre show meet and greet started at 3:30, so I got there at around 1:30, and was just waiting around honestly so nervous to see Matt again

By the time I was called it was 4:30. I met Chris and Nick first, and immediately got so nervous meeting Matt

“Hiiii” I said giving him a hug

“Hello again! How have you been gorgeous” he said as he signed a poster for me

“I’ve been very good actually” I said

“That’s good. Can’t wait to see you backstage tonight” he said winking

“Oh…yeah I’m so excited too. We’ve been reunited” I said laughing

“God I miss your pretty face” he said smiling at me causing me to blush

“Shhh” I said rolling my eyes

“And the dress…..whew that dress looks so hot on you” he said looking me up and down

“Thanks matt” I said giving him one last hug

We did the photo op and now it was time to wait for the show to start, so like last time I chatted with some people got something to eat and drink, and just chilled

I was Matt’s partner so at some point they brought me backstage to meet the other two girls. The whole time I was competing I felt Matts eyes on me, and it was making me so fucking nervous.

However this gave him some confidence because we won the first show.

“I have to thank my amazing team member because without her I would’ve lost” he said into the mic

“Thank you LA for an amazing first show! While we set up for backstage enjoy our friend Tril!!” Chris said

After the show, and Tril performing it was time to line up for backstage, and I felt like I was going to throw up…we’ve been through this before why the fuck am I about to throw up

I was the last group once again….Im sure Matt did that

Once again I went in and spoke with Chris and Nick, and filmed a tik tok with Matt because even though I’m sure he was going to fuck my brains out….I needed this tik tok with him

“You know the drill, stay in the back, and I’ll come grab you” he said lowly to me

“Got it” I said smiling

I went back over to Chris and Nick, and chatted with them…I wonder if they knew Matt blew my back out last tour….probably but oh well

“Alright guys! Thank you so much for supporting us and coming out here! Hope to see you guys at our next one” Nick said waving bye to everyone

This time the after show photo op was after backstage, so Matt’s security guard brought me back to another room like last tour, and I just sat in there

Me and my thoughts running wild, and I was so fucking anxious

About an hour and a half later I heard the door opening, and Matt came in locking the door behind him

“There’s that beautiful girl” he said winking at me

“You’re too kind” I said waving my hand at him

“Do you know why I brought you back here?” He asked me

“If it’s not to fuck me….then we have some issues” I said running my tongue along my teeth

“Ouu she knows what she wants….I like that” he said winking at me

“Well I assume that’s why you did what you did. You want to fuck again” I said

“Of course I do. Couldn’t get enough of that pussy” he said walking over to me

He ran his fingers along my bottom lip

“Oh Matt” I said sighing

“I need you so bad, you’re all I thought about these past 10 months” he said licking his lips

“Well I’m here, and I need you bad too” I said smirking at him

He leaned down ghosting his lips over mine

“Well come on then baby” he said before pulling pack, and helping me stand up

“I would love for you to suck my dick again, but I want nothing more than to fuck the shit out of you right now” he said leaning me up against the table

“Fuck Matt” I said moaning at his words

Matt started to kiss my neck to my collar bone, and then looked at me

“I hope you know-“ I cut him off

“Yeah yeah no kissing I got it” I said rolling my eyes, he looked at me and laughed. Going back to kissing my neck

“Fuck Matt I need you now” I said running my hands through his hair as he kissed my neck

“I know baby” he said

Matt then pulled away and helped me hike up my dress. Ghosting his hand over my pussy

“Oh” I sighed

He got down and started kissing my stomach all the way to my clothed pussy. He slowly slid my underwear down

“Fuckkkk” he said biting his lip

“So fucking sexy” he said looking up at me

Before I could answer he delved straight into my pussy, attacking my clit, licking sucking….just doing it all

“SHITTTT MATT” I moaned out my hands immediately going to his hair and pulled causing him to moan into my pussy

He was lapping at me, from my entrance backup to my clit. His nose bumping into my clit

“Fuck Matt I’m going to cum if you keep doing this” I said to him biting my lip

He pulled away and looked at me

“You’re cumming on my dick” he said before backing away

Matt brought his hand up and smacked my pussy causing me to shudder and whine out. He rubbed my pussy to soothe the ache, and then spat down onto my pussy

He pulled his dick out slowly stroking it

“You make me so hard” he said looking me up and down

Matt came up to me and started to rub his dick up and down my pussy

“Oh god” I said letting my head fall back

Slowly he started to push the tip in causing us both to gasp at the feeling

“Fuck I missed this” He said running his hands over my body

“Your dick feels so good….none like this back home” I said moaning

“Oh you fuck other guys?” He said as he bottomed out

“One other guy, but that’s it” I said

“I’m not sure that I like that” he said thrusting into me

“Fuckkkk…..I’m sorry baby I was just so horny and chasing after someone who could fuck like you” I said moaning out

“And they couldn't, right?” He asked panting

“They couldn’t” I said throwing my head back

“Good” he responded

And with that his hips snapped into me, pounding into me at such a delicious rate. All that could be heard was our moaning, the table creaking and skin slapping together

“Oh god Matt” I moaned out lifting my head up to look at him

“This pussy was made for me. You just take me so well” he said as he thrusted into me

As he kept pounding into me he looked ahead of him and saw a full length mirror

“Ohh baby I want you to watch me fuck you” he said biting his lip

He flipped us over, so my stomach was against the table, and he was pounding me from the back

“Look at yourself” he said pulling my hair make me look into the mirror

“Fuck” I said as my jaw dropped as I watched Matt watching us fucking in the mirror

He kept looking into the mirror the whole time while pounding into me

I was clenching down on him nearing my orgasm

“You gonna cum baby?” He asked while panting

“Yes yes yes please” I said looking at him through the mirror

“Whenever you want…go ahead and cum” he said while gripping onto my hair and furiously pounding into me

“FUCK MATT IM GOING TO CUM” I screamed out as I clenched down on him

He kept pounding into me, and suddenly I was shuddering, my mouth fell open as I looked into his eyes while I came all over his cock. Brows furrowed as I shook with ecstasy

“Mmm so fucking good to me” he said grunting as he kept thrusting

“I’m gonna cum baby” he said and suddenly pulled out

Stroking his dick a few times before he painted the back of my thighs in his cum. Moaning and staring into my eyes through the mirror…..god this was so fucking hot

After we caught our breaths he pulled his pants back up. Walking over to the counter and grabbing napkins before wiping me down

He helped me up, and picked up my underwear for me handing them to me

“Keep them” I said winking at him as I shimmed my dress down

“I like the way you think” he said before pocketing them

He was looking at me for a moment before he suddenly pulled me in crashing his lips to mine. Sparks and explosions were going off in my stomach

He pulled away

“I thought you didn’t kiss” I said licking my lips

“I didn’t, but you’re different” he said smiling at me

“I’m glad” I said fixing my hair

“Hey, we have two days to kill in LA. Could I maybe take you on a date?” He asked me

“I’d love that” I said

“Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon. We can do lunch” he said

“Sounds great” I told him

We actually walked out together this time, and went our separate ways when we got to the exit door

“See you tomorrow” he said

“See you tomorrow” I said back winking at him before walking off

The End

Hope yall enjoyed this one, and I can’t believe I’m at 397 followers this is insane 🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplet smut #matthew sturniolo smut #smut

[empirearchives]

Description of Pauline Bonaparte

Buste de la princesse Pauline Borghèse, Jean-Baptiste Isabey (Louvre)

“At dinner, I was placed next Paulette, who, remembering that she had met me at Marseilles, knowing me to be in possession of her secrets since I was the confidential friend of her future husband, treated me as an old acquaintance. She was a singular combination of the most perfect physical beauty and the most bizarre moral qualities. If she was the most lovely person one could possibly see, she was also the most unreasonable that one could imagine. She behaved like a schoolgirl, speaking at random, laughing at nothing and at everything, making fun of the most serious persons, putting out her tongue at her sister-in-law when she was not looking, nudging my knee when I did not pay sufficient attention to her pranks, and attracting to herself from time to time those terrible glances with which her brother called the most untractable men to order. But they made hardly any impression on her; the next moment she would begin again, and the authority of the Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Italy fell to pieces before the giddiness of a little girl. Nevertheless, she was a good child by nature rather than from a desire to be such, for she had no principle and was capable of doing good merely from caprice.”

— The poet Arnault

[Italics in original]

*Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Italy is Napoleon.

Source: The Sisters of Napoleon: Elisa, Pauline, and Caroline Bonaparte, After the Testimony of Their Contemporaries, by Joseph Turquan and W. R. H. Trowbridge

From Arnault, Souvenirs d'un Sexagénaire

#Isabey #pauline bonaparte #Pauline #Napoleon’s sisters #napoleon #napoleonic era #napoleonic #napoleon bonaparte #first french empire #french empire #Jean-Baptiste Isabey #louvre #pauline borghese #borghese #19th century #1800s #1800s art #Joseph Turquan #Turquan #Caroline #Elisa #history #french #Arnault #Antoine-Vincent Arnault #Souvenirs d'un Sexagénaire #Napoelon’s family #Napoleon’s siblings

[writer-in-theory]

tell ourselves a good lie—spencer reid

summary: spencer falls for the one person who is untouchable to him: his sponsor. he knows it's a bad idea, but is he willing to take the risk? pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader category: angst with hopeful ending content warnings: 17+ for suggestive scenes and heavy topics, heavy discussions of addiction recovery, past drug use, narcotics anonymous meetings (only mentions going to them), language word count: 4.6k a/n: y'all, i am incredibly proud of this one. things about this topic always mean a lot to me, so i'm thankful for the opportunity to write and share something like this. i know i mentioned it in the content warnings, but take care of yourselves and take caution if you're triggered or sensitive to discussions of past drug use and active recovery, including mentions of na, cravings, etc. this fic was a part of @imagining-in-the-margins 'forbidden love' challenge. thank you so much for putting these together, these challenges seriously boost the creative motivation. also, thank you also for beta-ing this one! thanks for sticking with me everyone, and i can't wait to see what y'all think 💜

masterlist taglist signup

“This is the last time,” Spencer promised against the skin of your neck, hands pressing you to the wall of the rec center storage room. “We can’t do this anymore.”

“Agreed,” you answered, head tilted back as though you were praying to the heavens when really you were begging for more, always more. As Spencer prepared to let you go, his hands held on tight enough to bruise, desperately wishing there could be any other conclusion to this story.

But there wasn’t, so he pressed as close to you as possible and tried to imagine there was another version of him somewhere that got that happy ending he so desperately needed.

There are three key rules stated before every NA meeting Spencer has gone to.

The first, no discussing outside issues during meetings. Though all of them in the group are law enforcement officers, it’s advised that none of them talk case stories while in meetings no matter how much they may want to. Second, confidentiality is key. With so many agents in one room, it would be far too easy for the wrong person to find out someone was present. Absolutely nothing leaves the room after the meeting is over, case closed. And finally, group members should refrain from dating for their first year of sobriety and should never date another group member under any circumstances.

They should’ve been easy to follow. 

In fact, Spencer had always been known as a rule-follower. Rules were comforting, easy, and always there no matter what. They were a way to keep his life together when he felt like barely contained shards of glass. When he had no one, he had rules to guide him.

Then he met you.

“I have this old piece of sea glass,” the person beside him said once his second Narcotics Anonymous meeting had ended.

“I’m sorry?” Spencer asked, turning his head to face you as if a visual on the speaker would help contextualize what you’d said. 

“You were shuffling those cards through the whole meeting,” you pointed out, pointing out the deck of cards still held loosely in his hands. “You gamble?”

“I used to. I’m actually banned from most casinos in Las Vegas,” Spencer chuckled, a ghost of a smile lingering as he watched his hands cycle through the cards. It felt like ages ago, those college years when he’d paid for schooling and his mother’s room by allowing men far older than he to underestimate him. He used to hate it, the amused glances as he’d enter the space as though no one truly thought he would be able to keep up. It was those amused stares that paid for so many of his meals, though, so he’d learned to be appreciative of them in the end.

“Damn, that bad?”

“That good, really,” he corrected. “Poker can be reduced down to a simple formula, and if you learn that then you’re more statistically likely to win.”

“You card-counted.”

“If you want to word it like that, then yes.”

“I do want to word it like that.” Before your playful grin appeared, Spencer would’ve had no way to tell if you were joking or not. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” The moment of hesitation was impossible to miss in your expression, leaving Spencer to scramble and say, “This isn’t my first meeting. I was here a month ago, you spoke at that meeting.”

“Oh,” you mustered up, eyes flitting about as you tried to find the answer in his face, “how long has it been?”

“A month and 8 days,” Spencer answered, and that seemed to be the right thing to say because your expression lit up. 

Suddenly your eyes seemed to sparkle and your smile softened as you said, “Well, let’s see it.”

“See what?”

“Your first chip!” you cheered just loud enough for the next group over to hear. Though in his first meeting Spencer had practically sprinted out at the conclusion, this time he was lingering around like everyone else. Everyone here seemed familiar with one another, loudly laughing and joining in joyous conversation that was dichotomous to the struggle that brought them all together.

“Oh, I didn’t, I didn’t get one,” Spencer admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck.

You paused, simply watching him. It really wasn’t long, but your gaze was so piercing Spencer shifted in the uncomfortable metal chair that had been his all meeting. Then, like a wildfire you suddenly jumped into action, leaping up from your chair and waving at him to follow like an impatient child.

“Well, come on.”

“Where are we going?” Spencer asked hesitantly, knowing if you weren’t at an NA meeting for law enforcement officers that he would’ve already shut this idea down. Running off with some random stranger in the middle of the night, not having anyone who knew where he was or when he could be expected back, well that screamed future victim of the people he spent years chasing down.

“To get you a chip,” you answered simply, “c’mon I promise I won’t kidnap you or anything.”

Spencer winced at the wording, but if you noticed it you didn’t say anything. Instead, you softened your gaze and nodded your head in the direction of the exit. He didn’t know why he followed you, just that there was something about the way you looked at him that made him want to know more. You smiled and waved goodbye to nearly everyone on the way out, and Spencer noticed how all of them brightened up the moment they saw you. It reminded him of the way the team used to be before Hankel, before the hydromorphone, the heartbroken glances, and worried whispers, back when there were claps on the back and jokes that made his sides hurt each time he stepped into the office.

“How long have you been going here?” he asked as you led him down the sidewalk in the direction of the city center. 

“Here specifically? Only a year, but I’ve been clean for over five.”

Five years. That number didn’t seem real, not when Spencer cried in disbelief and pride when he hit 30 days, not when it took him three tries to get to that point at all. And yet there you were walking beside him in real-time—and while he was watching you with wonder-filled eyes, you were watching a plane soar through the sky with a matching expression.

“What did you...?”

“What does it matter what I used?” you countered gently, glancing at him only briefly to prove you weren’t upset before looking back up at the sky. How you managed to walk without running into anything, Spencer wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because you memorized this path home long ago, or maybe it was the hope that you would be able to catch yourself should any unexpected obstacles crop up. 

“Just about everything,” you answered moments later, “it started after an accident. I was driving back home from a crime scene and...well, you know how the story goes.”

“I do,” Spencer answered barely over a whisper, hand gripping his deck of cards a little tighter in his pocket.

Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent this much time outside. It was a perfect time of year—just cold enough to prevent any uncomfortable humidity but not so much as to make him shiver. It was slightly breezy, moving his hair enough to keep the sweat gathered on the back of his neck from matting it down. Though the detox process had ended weeks ago, Spencer hadn’t quite stopped sweating whenever he thought about all he’d gotten involved in for too long.

“Dilaudid.”

“What?” you asked, completely abandoning the flights overhead to look at him.

“I used Dilaudid. I was trying to forget a case.”

“It didn’t work, did it?” you asked, but hardly waited for an answer before continuing, “I mean, at first it does. Then it stops working and eventually, you just keep using because there’s no reason to stop rather than any purpose it might’ve had before.”

Spencer had gone most of his life not being understood. He was the small kid who was too smart for his own good, too greedy for more knowledge to actually live a ‘typical teen life’. When he’d joined the FBI, he thought this would be the moment he found the people who understood him. But while they were certainly his friends, all of them still treated him like he was Other, the Boy Wonder who was there to figure out everything none of them had. Yet here he was, 30 days sober and never feeling more of a sense of belonging.

This was the feeling he used to dream about as a kid, and all he had to do to get it was attend an NA meeting.

“It’s not much,” you warned as you led Spencer through the doors of an apartment complex not too different from his own. It was older, more worn as it sat deep in the heart of the historic district of the city. 

Your apartment was clean, though obviously showed signs of life. A coffee mug sat in the kitchen sink, a jacket tossed over the side of the couch, a record still sitting on the turntable. And though it had been five years since you’d been where he was, Spencer still saw shadows of the living conditions he’d made for himself over the past month of recovery. Ibuprofen bottles decorated every room, always there to ward off the persistent headaches. Though he wasn’t sure, he’d guess that was just about the only medication in the apartment left. There were trinkets scattered around the place—little toys to be picked up and messed with when your fingers were aching to reach for something far worse. Flowers, so many flowers everyone as if to ward off the chemical smell that never seemed to ease despite all the bleach used everywhere. 

“I like it here,” Spencer told you finally, following along as you tore through the apartment in search of something. The item you were looking for was found in a drawer in the kitchen, the sort of catch-all drawer that hid everything your heart couldn’t get rid of but your brain no longer needed.

“Spencer.” Your voice took on a much more serious tone, eye glinting as you held up a little yellow chip, inlaid with the words he’d spoken each time a meeting was concluded. “This was my chip when I reached one month of sobriety, given to me by my sponsor at the time. This is a huge accomplishment, and you deserve something to remember it by.”

“It’s only 30 days,” Spencer countered, preferring to keep his eyes on the coin than on your softened gaze.

“And those are some of the toughest you’ll experience. You’ll have to redo these 30 the most out of any, you’ll be more familiar with this chip than any others. It’s important to have it, to remind you that you made it here once, it’s always possible.”

It was true that this chip looked faded, worn in ways Spencer wasn’t sure a piece of metal could ever be. The edges were chipped and scraped, no longer smooth as they’d once been. The face was scuffed, the patterning had worn down as though it had been continuously rubbed by a thumb. This was a chip that had been cherished once, handed down through a long line of sponsors and newcomers who needed that reminder more than the one who’d long since passed their initial thirty for the final time.

“Thank you,” Spencer conceded, rubbing his thumb over that same surface and wondering when the last time you’d found comfort in this coin was.

“Well, I thought it’d be better than those cards, especially since I know you’re a card counter now,” you teased, bumping his arm with your elbow to prove there was no ill-intent in your words.

“I used to do magic tricks when I was scared,” Spencer admitted then, and he didn’t know why he was telling you all of this now. Derek had made a point once to remind him that most people didn’t find magic tricks as fascinating as he did, that people would create a certain image of him if he led with that knowledge. And yet, you already knew the very depths of the darkness that surrounded him now, what harm would magic possibly do to the image you carried of him? “Card tricks, mostly.”

“Why did you stop?” you asked curiously. All night you’d hardly asked direct questions of him, preferring to let Spencer come to you with whatever information he wanted to share. You couldn’t stop yourself now, head tilted to the side as you searched his face again.

If it were anyone else, Spencer might notice how close you still stood to him, how if he moved his hand just an inch forward he’d likely brush your skin. He might shudder at the proximity and step away, if it were anyone else. But it wasn’t, so he stayed, eyes still glued to the chip but his entire focus shifted to you now.

“My hands haven’t stopped shaking, since that case. I thought it was from the drugs at first, but it’s been a month and they won’t stay still. I think he’s taken this away from me too,” Spencer whispered, scared the words might shatter his world if he spoke them any louder.

“The pain will fade,” you started, words like gentle ribbons that floated through the air as you released them. “I can’t say it ever goes away, but the brambles will become littered with flower blooms one day.”

“The thorns will still hurt if they don’t go away,” Spencer countered, struggling to ever imagine a future where this pain didn’t overwhelm his every cell.

“The petals will kiss your scars and make it not so unbearable,” you insisted.

“How do you know?” Spencer begged still, pleading with you to make the world make sense. His expression cracked just like his voice did, and his hands shook from more than the memories. “How could you know?” 

He supposed it made sense, that you’d be telling him all of this now. Thousands of people recovered from addiction every day, why couldn’t he be another number in that statistic? Still, all Spencer could see was himself scrambling to pull a syringe out of his bag at work, how jeopardizing the job he’d worked for years to get didn’t once stop him from continuing this habit. If that hadn’t convinced him to properly quit forever, what could you say to convince him otherwise?

“People like us, we all carry thorned vines around.”

It wasn’t long after that you became his sponsor.

It was Spencer’s idea, a suggestion spoken hastily in the diner the two of you always had dinner at after the NA meetings. He didn’t attend every day, nor even every week. The BAU still kept him busy, traveling all over the country and focused on the purest evil in the world. But you were always there when he got home, with another set of flowers to add to his growing collection.

And though Spencer could still swear he smelled the isopropyl he’d cleansed his inner elbow with, the sweet honeyed scent of flowers soon began to take over his apartment. It might someday become too overwhelming a scent for him but for now, it was a reminder. It was the same reminder you texted him while he was away on cases.

The flowers will still grow, no matter how harsh the conditions.

There was still hope for him yet, despite all the pain thrown at him over the past several years.

And as the days got easier, so too did talking to you. Eventually, Spencer felt empty when he wasn’t near you, as though there was a piece of him missing. You spent more time at his apartment than your own, and when Spencer asked if this was normal for sponsors you only gave him a sad smile in return.

Because Spencer wasn’t clueless, he knew this was far beyond the work of a sponsor and their sponsee. When you got up in front of the group to hand him his red two-month chip, the pride and love in your eyes were not that of a mentor.

The kiss you’d shared in the darkness of his apartment was not that, either.

It had been as gentle as the moment shared in your apartment nearly a month prior, lips barely brushing the other as though the touch could break the both of you. Maybe it would, maybe it was this moment after all that would shatter everything you and him had worked for.

Spencer knew it had been a bad idea to kiss you, knew that the supportive relationship the two of you had built together was far more important than the lonely ache beating against his heart.

So he told himself a lie.

“This is the last time,” he had whispered that night, “we can’t do this again.”

And you’d agreed, nodding your head where it rested against his chest. Your hair prickled against his skin there, making him squirm on the bed beside you. “Agreed. This is a bad idea.”

Spencer might have believed you meant it that time if only until the next time he was home and you’d shared his bed again. At some point, he realized he knew the planes of your body as well as he knew his own. You knew his too—you always seemed to know when he needed a gentle touch to guide him through the moment and when he needed someone to grasp tightly to.

“Agreed,” you had promised the heavens two months after the start of it all. You’d re-dressed then, quickly as though Spencer had not spent hours memorizing every inch of you. “That was the last time.”

“Until the next time,” Spencer murmured, mostly to himself as a comfort for the coming days you’d spend apart.

“No.” The word was harsh in the air, spoken with more resolve than either of you had had in these moments together. “This was the last, I mean it this time.”

“You don’t mean it.”

“Spencer.”

It was the same way you’d said it two months ago, that steely resolve enough to still his movements. He held his shirt in his hands as he stood in front of the only one he never tried to hide his scars from. Your eyes never lingered on the crook of his elbow, nor on the various marks other unsubs had left on him. You always looked beyond the brambles, and you had been the one to gently coax the rose blooms out from his heart. 

He’d never felt so small under your gaze before, until this very moment.

“We’re better together,” Spencer argued, knowing that in moments, he could lose everything he’d held onto for the past two months. Everything that had made it all worth it, that had helped him push through the rough days and persistent cravings.

“We’re ruining your chance to recover from this, Spencer.”

“What do you mean?” he pressed then, eyes trying to find anything promising in your gaze. There was no sign of a joke there, only shuttered eyes and a trembling lower lip. “You’ve helped me through all of this. I wouldn’t have made it to three months without you.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” you insisted, tears gathering in those eyes he loved to see sparkle with pride, with love. He hated the love he saw there now, though, the desperate ache of someone who knew they loved something they could no longer have. “I’ve become a part of your recovery, it’s too dangerous for us to continue this. If we ever broke up, if I ever upset you, it could undo everything. Grant me the courage to accept the things I cannot change.”

The words were spoken at the end of every meeting, a prayer to remind them of the importance of a good recovery path. Spencer knew what you were saying, that neither of you could change the situation you were in nor the trainwreck you were quickly hurtling towards. Still, Spencer wasn’t satisfied with that conclusion just yet. 

“The courage to change the things I can,” Spencer fought back. It was a rule not to date within the group for a reason, because there was always a risk with these things, but what would he be without the courage to try? It would work for someone, why couldn’t it work for you and him?

But even without reading your mind, Spencer knew what you would say next. Even still, the words hit harshly against his chest, knocking loose the fear he’d tried to keep down. “And the wisdom to know the difference, Spencer.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re scared,” Spencer spit out, hurling the words as harshly as he could muster against someone he used to trust. Someone who, just like all the others, was trying to leave him now when he’d needed them most.

“Of course, I’m scared, Spencer!” you shouted then. “Imagine we do this. Imagine I move in with you, and we date, and you continue earning those chips. What if we have a fight, a bad one like many couples do. What if you lose the person who promised they’d always be a guiding hand through this, huh? You no longer have your sponsor there to call in the middle of the night when you want Dilaudid. I can’t risk being the reason you relapse.”

“You’re worth the risk to me!” Spencer countered, knowing in his heart that your words rung true but desperately trying to block out the sounds for his own sake.

“It’s not to me!” 

And there it was, the words he’d never wanted to hear from your lips. You’re not worth it to me. Suddenly the entire future he’d begun to imagine with you crumbled away, leaving him exactly where he’d begun at his first NA meeting: completely, and utterly alone in this world. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer, but I think you should find a new sponsor.”

Spencer didn’t say a word, hand wrapped around the two-month chip you’d handed him just a couple of weeks ago. You’d asked if he wanted a new one, but he’d shyly asked if he could have yours instead, only if you wouldn’t need it. You wouldn’t, you promised, so you’d handed him the chip that matched the worn one that had a permanent home in his pocket. He’d thought the irregularities of the chip would irritate him, but his fingers often sought comfort in the knicks and ridges you’d worn into it.

There was no comfort in it now, only a reminder of how quickly things can be abandoned, no longer needed. That chip had pushed you through rough times, had saved you more times than you would ever admit aloud to another soul—and you’d returned the favor by handing it off to someone else when its use had been fulfilled.

Spencer was a lot like that chip, in a way.

Those two weeks to three months were some of the toughest Spencer had been through.

But he’d made it through like he’d made it through all the others before. When you weren’t there to hand him his 90-day chip, John was. He was a good sponsor, always there for midnight calls but never overstepping any boundaries between them. John had also started using to get over a bad case. He understood Spencer’s struggles in the way you never quite had.

Maybe you’d been right after all.

When Spencer had confided in John about what had happened, the older man had laughed and clapped him on the back. 

“We all try it once,” he told Spencer, “relationships like that are built on a foundation of nitroglycerine, they always go up in flames eventually.”

It wasn’t until another week had passed that Spencer understood. It was when he returned home after the case in Texas, where another boy traumatized by kids at school sought revenge Spencer had never yearned for.

He was exhausted, so many memories dredged up by it all. Hotch had told him to go to another meeting, but Spencer was too worn for even that. So instead he’d held John’s chip in his hand and made his way back into his apartment—cold, dark, and still covered with so many flowers his place smelled of honeysuckle.

It wasn’t until after his shower and dinner that Spencer found the envelope. It was on the floor by the front door, like someone had slid it under from the other side. There was a shoe print on the left side, evidence that whoever sent it had delivered it before Spencer had gotten home.

He didn’t recognize the handwriting spelling his name on the front, but within the first sentence, he recognized your voice immediately.

Spencer,

I’m sorry we left things how we did. I stand by what I did that night, but it could’ve been said so much better. I had all these beautiful words planned to explain myself, I wanted us to continue being friends after, but then in the moment I looked at you and lost every thought I’d planned. I hurt you, and for that, I will always be sorry.

Not much has changed for me, since then. I’m a sponsor for a person who is my age when I first started this journey. I’m doing a lot better with them than I ever did with you, I think I’m really helping them in a way I couldn’t do for you. I failed you as a sponsor, but I won’t let them down.

But trust me when I say, I never stopped believing in us. We found each other in the worst way, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t meant to be together. Not then, never then, but someday.

You need to find yourself right now, find the things that make this life worth it. What we went through, was too much for any one person. We all have to rediscover ourselves while we recover, and if I were still there with you then I’d be depriving you of that necessity.

Come find me, years down the road when you’re handing your chips off to another soul who needs the comfort more. I’ll be waiting.

-- Y/N

P.S. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to give you this.

Tucked within the letter was a green chip, not quite as worn as the first but still a familiar comfort to warm in his hand all the same. Even now, a surge of joy swelled in Spencer as he imagined you writing this letter, slipping the chip in because you knew he would make it to three months—you always believed that he would survive this, even before he believed in himself. After everything, you still had faith in him.

Maybe John had been wrong, maybe you and he weren’t built from explosives but were simply a plant that needed time and nurturing to flourish.

Someday Spencer would come find you, would sweep you off your feet, and never let you go again. He imagined retiring from the BAU then, going off to the small town you’d found a home in. The two of you would be older, and wouldn’t be completely made from thorns but rather a neat collection of varied flowers collected over the years. The two of you would spend days relearning each other, the right way. There would be happiness for the two of you, someday when the daily fight had eased.

For now, though, Spencer tucked the green chip away in his pocket and headed for bed.

GENERAL TAGLIST @samuel-de-champagne-problems @silverhetdanes @ssawonderland @reidsbookclub @katymarie @mrsobrien888 @writingquillsandpainpills @fightingdragonswithreid @lil-stark @sweetandsunny @stillsleepynat @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @givemeth @foxy-eva @lilibet261 @exhaleli @darkeunology @nomajdetective @fairyellieee @meggie-m00n @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @kaitieskidmore1 @delicatespencer @serenity-lattes @goldentournesol @rexorangecouny @sultrypotter @tanyaherondale @reliefplease @lcveandrea @1-800-brain-and-heart @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @nani-2305 @bethariossand-blog @mente-sindescanso @girloncorneliastreet @reidselle @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @just-a-lone-writer @jj76889 @luna-novae @maltamurdock @folkreid

ONESHOTS TAGLIST @multixfandomwriter @justreadingficsdontmindme @natashxromanovfreads @nano-noa @tisi25

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x gn!reader #dr spencer reid #jay writes in theory

[ejzah]

The Agent and the Fireman, Part 3

***

Marty Deeks sat down on the end of his bed, a business card that wore signs of being held multiple times in one hand and his cell in the other. He’d reached this point half a dozen times before, but been interrupted, or chickened out, every time.

Normally, he wasn’t shy about asking a woman out, but Kensi Blye did something different to him. She was blunt, fearless, funny, and absolutely gorgeous.

He smiled, remembering his initial shock, followed by amusement and finally admiration when she grilled him about calling. Even though her tone had been joking when she called him out, Deeks had a feeling he wouldn’t get another chance if he waited too much longer. Brushing his bangs from his eyes, Deeks thumbed in the number on the card.

***

Kensi got home, kicking off her shoes on the way and leaving a trail of clothes on her way to her bedroom. There, she she rooted around in the pile of clothes next to her bed until she found a reasonably clean shirt and tugged that on. After that, she collected a glass of water, a beer, and the pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream from the kitchen, settling herself in front of the TV.

It had been an incredibly long, tiring, not to mention frustrating week. They’d finally pinned down the person stealing confidential information from multiple companies, as well as linked him to their two cases of arson. Kensi took his arrest personally after nearly burning to death.

Prying the lid off the tub of ice cream, Kensi settled in for a night of burgeoning supermodels and delicious carbs.

Her phone rang two and a half episodes on, and she picked up without looking.

“Nell, you had better not be interrupting my Tara Banks time with another case.”

“Hi, uh, it’s Deeks actually.”

Kensi’s eyes widened, words for escaping her for a second.

“You know, from LA fire department,” he added, like Kensi could forget the man who had literally carried her out of a burning building in his strong arms, like something out of a romance novel. “Please tell me this is the right number.”

“Yes, it is,” Kensi said quickly. “Sorry, I thought you were a coworker.”

Despite her teasing and pushing, she truly hadn’t expected him to call at this point. As though he could see her across the phone, she shoved the half-eaten carton of ice cream under the coffee table, and straightened her stained t-shirt.

“Thank god. That saves me the trouble of choosing a wrong number story.” He cleared his throat, and something in the background rustled. Kensi immediately pictured him laying down in bed, shifting among the covers.

Ok, get a grip, Kensi, she told herself before her imagination turned more inappropriate.

There was a extended pause, and even with the distance between them, she felt the tension grow.

“So, I believe you owe me a date,” Deeks said softly, the slight drawl sending unexpected warmth to Kensi’s cheeks.

“Um, if anyone owes a date, it’s you,” Kensi objected instinctively.

“I believe I saved your life, Agent Blye.”

“And I had to wait over a week for you to call me.”

Deeks chuckled, a throaty sound that Kensi was already a big fan of. “You make an excellent point. Alright, so Agent Blye, would you go out on a date with me next Saturday? World catastrophes notwithstanding.”

“Yes,” Kensi agreed without hesitation, and for once she didn’t even care. “And just for future reference, I like sushi, Mexican, and Korean food,” she added.

“Noted,” Deeks responded with a soft chuckled. “Alright, I’ll text you with the details.” He paused a beat. “I’ll let you get back to your important Top Model,” he teased.

Al Kensi got out with was a gasp of protest before Deeks signed off with a laugh filled goodbye.

***

A/N: Thanks for everyone who has expressed their enthusiasm for this story. I hope this less action filled chapter is still enjoyable.

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #firefighter deeks #the agent and the fireman #part 3 #au #ejzah fanfiction

[moonlight-tmd]

Did Longarm know about wf!Bee when he was in boot camp, and how do they react to each other? I’m guessing that this version of Bee would probably cover for Longarm if he found out he’s a decepticon, or maybe make him a more inconspicuous transmitter so that even if someone found it, LA can just say it’s a Radio or something.

Also how did the whole Wasp thing pan out?

Hmm, i would assume Bee knew Longarm was a spy since he met Shockwave before and they were sort of friends. So after he got in boot camp Longarm pulled him to some corner and told him. He's been helping Bee with stuff; pranks, hiding evidence, failed escapes. Bee didn't know that side of Shockwave(yet) so he was surprised to see the disguised 'con having actual fun with him.

Wasp- he's been trying to get Bee in stockades for being so-called spy for Decepticons (even tho he wasn't even a 'con). As said in earlier post; everytime he found something that would connect Bee with Decepticons it disappeared thanks to Longarm. Bee would make Longarm's spy equipment more convinient to explain if someone ever found it- A decepticon signal emitter? What are you talking about? That is clearly a statuette. What for? Well, some bots like decor for variety, unlike you plain, uninteresting mechs.

I imagine that Wasp actually got promoted to Elite Guard, i don't think he would be as much of a bully in that AU. He and Ironhide work on some other stuff across the galaxy and never actually show up on Earth.

The only one to know Bee worked with 'cons would be Sentinel, and that information is confidential. After Bee's failed "rehabilitation" he is thrown with Bulkhead to another failure- Optimus, to rot in the repair crew. (Bee has a note in his files to not let him go on missions alone,.. which Optimus doesn't really stick to because Bee is his friend and he trusts him to come back)

In his time in boot camp, Bee got close with Bulkhead enough to tell him about some of his past. What he did, what happened to his home, what the Autobots did to him and that he had Conjunx. Bulkhead understood what he felt; he himself wasn't really keen on joining any of the sides. All he wanted is to be a Spacebridge Technician, both cuz it was a fun job to him and to help his family back on the energon farm. But the application required him to be an Autobot for some reason, so he gave in. They agree to keep it a secret after they join the repair crew.

#tfa bumblebee #tfa bulkhead #tfa #maccadam #ask box #tfa au #warframe!bumblebee au

[louisisalarrie]

I am the anon about the podcast story and it was not the same one as the Cabo story. That one was debunked but the LA one is not debunked yet. The podcast still has the video online too and she says he ghosted her after a while. About how people got his rider info: it was on a article in a Panama news outlet and it is going to keep happening because he is visiting some countries where ndas don't exist unless you are a politician. Same happened with Harry or one direction when they toured.

Ah gotcha. Apologies for the mixup in stories hahaha. It’s just… embarrassing that people have to use his name for clout. And also he’s not an idiot, if he’s hooking up with strangers he’s doing it more carefully than that, I’d imagine.

And yeah you can still get the 1d riders online, I just would assume there would be a confidentiality Agreement between the promoter and louis’ team, as there usually is. Doesn’t mean an official NDA, you can definitely still make private contractual Agreements depending on the subject. But maybe he doesn’t care if people discuss his catering rider, as long as it’s not his hotel rider/fake names for hotels etc.

#the fake names he comes up with are SO funny #anon #answered

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley: The Wilderness Years

Chapter 3: Raising The Stakes

A/N: Artemis uses her connections to her advantage as she takes matters into her own hands. Warnings: A whole lot of awkwardness.

Badeea was talking Artemis through her final design for the Triwizard Maze when the two of them were interrupted by the unwanted presence of Thomasina Thistlethwaite.

“What do you want?” Artemis asked Thomasina, who did not flinch at her impolite tone.

“Mr Bagman would like to speak to you about something in his office,” she replied. “Artemis, that is.”

Artemis shrugged at Badeea and looked straight past Thomasina as she got out of her seat and left the room in search of Ludo, who had his own private office. She made her way straight there and found him sitting at his desk, a cabinet full of trophies on the wall behind him.

“Ah, Hexley! There you are,” he boomed, and held out both his fists to her. “Guess which one the Galleon is in.”

Artemis looked from his hands to his face before answering: “Left.”

“Bingo! Every time. By Jove, you may well have me bankrupt by the end of the year.”

“Is that the only reason you wanted me to come in?” Artemis asked him, taking the Galleon from his hand.

“What? Oh, no. No, I actually have a job for you,” said Ludo. He rifled through a pile of paperwork on his desk and held up a file with the word ‘confidential’ stamped on it in large red letters. “Here. You’re used to dealing with import and export procedures. And, from what I remember from your interview, you’re a dab hand with creatures, too.”

“I guess. Sort of.”

“Excellent. Now, in here is a list of all the creatures we need for the tournament. I’d like you to sort out importing and transporting them.”

He handed the file to Artemis, who opened it and scanned down the list, feeling a small sting of anger as she read each of the creatures listed, more than half of them the ones that Thomasina had suggested after talking to her. Still, she pushed her annoyance aside. Tonks had been right the previous weekend; if she wanted to best Thomasina, she would just have to work harder and do better.

“I reckon I can do the Sphinx, easy. I still have a couple of friends back at Gringotts’ headquarters in Egypt,” she said, making a mental note to write to Bill Weasley later that day. “The rest we don’t even need to transport. There are plenty of Boggarts at Hogwarts, because they keep them for Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, and there are already Red Caps and Acromantula in the forest, it’s just a case of capturing them. I can talk to Hagrid, the gameskeeper. He’d be able to help, I bet.”

“Top job, Hexley. Say, you wouldn’t be able to speak Mermish at all, would you?”

“I only know one word. Sorry.”

“Shame. I need someone to negotiate with the merpeople for the second challenge. I’ll ask old Barty, they say he was into the old lingual activities in his day, so to speak.” Bagman winked, and Artemis tried her hardest not to pull a face.

“What about the dragons? Or is that sorted already?”

“We’ve scrapped the idea of the dragons. Can’t get any.”

“I have a friend who’s a dragonologist. He might be able to get us some, they’ve got loads on the reserve where he works.”

“It’s not that there aren’t enough,” Bagman told her, shaking his head. “There are plenty of dragons in the world, it’s just that the laws surrounding anything to do with them are so strict. Even with contacts in the field, we can’t bypass that amount of red tape.” He sighed deeply. “It is a shame, though. Imagine, dragons. Now, that would be a real challenge, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe it still could be.”

“Sadly, Barty says there’s no way, and he would know, what with all the work he did for the Council of Magical Law. Ah, well. C’est la vie, as the French would say. Now, heads or tails?”

He flicked a second Galleon into the air, caught it and placed it on the back of his other hand. He snuck a look and raised his eyebrows at her.

“Fifty-fifty chance, Hexley. What is it?”

“Heads,” said Artemis, and Bagman handed her the gold coin. She took it and frowned. “Say, Ludo. How about we go double or nothing on these Galleons?”

“Raising the stakes, are we? I always knew you were a girl after my own heart. Oh, go on, then. What are we betting on?”

“I bet I can get you your dragons.”

Bagman laughed out loud.

“You might as well give me your money now, doll,” he said. “Didn’t you hear what I said? That’s a bet with almost impossible odds.”

Artemis shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe. But then, I’ve always been good at beating the odds.”

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was all the way up on the second level of the Ministry Headquarters. Having left Bagman’s office, Artemis hurried straight up the stairs, the file and two Galleons he had given her still clutched in her hands. She had a vague idea of where she was going, having spent a two-week-long work experience placement in the department the summer she turned seventeen, but three and a half years had passed since then, and she had not needed to go to every single office in the Department. Still, there was a good chance that either Tonks or her friend Kingsley, who both worked in the Auror office, would know where to find the room she was looking for.

Unfortunately, when she poked her head around the Auror office door, every single one of the Aurors were deep in a very serious looking discussion. Even without the several large ‘wanted’ posters Artemis had walked past on her way there, she could have guessed what - or, more to the point, who - they were talking about. Sirius Black, a Dark Wizard and first ever person to have escaped from Azkaban prison, was still at large and as dangerous as ever.

It was probably better that she left the Aurors to it, so instead, she knocked on a smaller door further along the corridor, on which a plaque read: Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

“Come in,” said a voice from behind the door, and Artemis did as it instructed.

On the other side of the door was a room that, judging from its tiny size and dingy atmosphere, may have previously been a cupboard of some description. Now, however, it had been converted into the smallest office she had ever seen, with two desks and several filing cabinets crammed so tightly inside that there was barely room for her to stand among them. A tall wizard with glasses and thinning red hair was sitting there, a collection of assorted Muggle items and photos of children, all at various ages and all red-headed, lining the desk in front of him.

“Artemis!” he said, turning in his chair and smiling at her. “Splendid to see you. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Arthur. I’m just on an errand for Ludo, and I’m not sure exactly where I need to go, so I thought you might be able to help me.”

“Of course. Where is it you need to be?”

“I’m looking for the Council of Magical Law,” she told him. “I need to speak to someone who works for them.”

“Right you are. Turn right out of this office, go all the way along the corridor until it bends to the left, and it’s the last door on the left before the bend.”

“Brilliant. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And you’re also welcome to come around for tea any time. I’m sure that Molly will send you an invitation as soon as I mention that I saw you today, so I may as well give you a prior warning.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Artemis grinned, and she turned to leave Mr Weasley’s office. Before she shut the door behind her, his voice called out to her once more.

“Oh, and Artemis,” he said. “If you see Ludo this afternoon, can you let him know that I am interested in the raffle he’s doing for tickets to the World Cup Final? I just need to get some money together to take part. Should have it by the end of next week, if he’s happy to wait that long. Got to wait until payday, you know?”

Artemis made a sympathetic noise and nodded her head in agreement, and Mr Weasley returned to his work. Certain that he wouldn’t see her, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the two Galleons Ludo had given her. Wordlessly, she levitated them into the air and directed the coins so that they floated through the air and came to rest inside the pocket of the cloak resting on the back of Arthur’s chair.

A small but satisfied smile played on her face as she closed the door of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office and turned to her right, made her way down the corridor and stopped as it bent around a corner. To her left, a wooden door - far better polished than Mr Weasley’s - was propped slightly open. Beyond it, a large and open room housed several desks, at each of which a witch or wizard was hard at work. Artemis narrowed her eyes and scanned the room until she found the wizard she was looking for.

“Hi,” she said as she approached the desk of Chester Davies, who raised his tired looking eyes from the parchment he was writing on and blinked twice.

“Hello,” he replied. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, if ever. I was under the impression that you didn’t want to see me again.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Still, this is a surprise. Is there a particular reason you’re here, or…”

Chester’s voice tailed off, and he raised his eyebrows at her. Artemis shrugged and sat on his desk beside him.

“Your law books. I might need to borrow them,” she told him.

“All of them?”

“Not all, just some. Any that will tell me what I can legally do to import a Hungarian Horntail into the country for a sporting event.”

“I’m sorry… A Hungarian Horntail?”

“Yeah. Or three, actually, that would be even better.”

“I’m not certain that there will be anything you can do to legally import a Hungarian Horntail - let alone three Hungarian Horntails - into the country for a sporting event. Laws surrounding anything dragonological tend to be extremely rigid.”

“But surely there would be a way. A loophole you can squabble over, maybe?” Artemis smiled at Chester expectantly, and he began to chuckle.

“Why do you want to know about this?” he asked her. “What sporting event could possibly involve a Hungarian Horntail? Or three, for that matter.”

“Top secret. Classified. If I told you, I would probably have to kill you.”

Chester laughed again, but he nodded his head. “Very well. I expect I’ll have something that’ll be of use to you. I’ll take a look later.”

“Brilliant, thanks,” said Artemis. “I’ll swing by tomorrow lunchtime to get the books.”

“Don’t do that. I have a better idea.”

“What?”

“I’ll look through the books, see what relevant information I can find, and I’ll talk it through with you over dinner.”

Artemis wrinkled her nose. “Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner. Do you not eat dinner?”

“Yeah, I like dinner, I just… Yeah, fine. We can do that.”

“I’ll meet you by the Fountain of Magical Brethren on Friday evening. Say six thirty?”

“Sure.”

Chester smiled. “Excellent. It’s a date.”

Artemis had half-expected Chester to take her to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner; it was where the majority of her co-workers met after work, and given the fact that he played piano for them on Saturday evenings, he was bound to get some sort of discount. However, after the two left the atrium of the Ministry on Friday evening, he walked her not to Diagon Alley, but to a Muggle restaurant in Covent Garden. Their table was upstairs, next to a window through which the sounds of three women playing string instruments in the market below could be heard. Looking around, Artemis quickly realised that she was underdressed for the occasion.

“May I take your coat?” asked the waiter who had shown them to their seats. Artemis recoiled from him slightly, her grip on her jacket tightening.

“Where?”

The waiter chuckled, as did Chester, who handed his own coat and scarf to him. Somewhat reluctantly, Artemis followed suit.

“Okay,” she said, once the waiter had left with their coats. “So, what did you find out?”

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Chester laughed. “Well, it’s not particularly great news, I’m afraid.”

“It’s not?”

“No. Dragon keeping has been regulated for hundreds of years, but ever since they passed the Ilfracombe Amendment in 1933, there’ve been even tighter controls. As it stands, only specialised dragon reserves can authorise the movement of dragons, and there are now only nine such reserves in the world, and only in the United Kingdom.”

“That’s the one with the Hebridean Blacks, isn’t it? I don’t think they have Hungarian Horntails.”

“Well then, if you have your heart set on a Hungarian Horntail, you’ll need to import one. Unfortunately, international movement is even more difficult, because you have the International Federation of Wizards’ regulations and the local laws of the two countries you’re moving the dragons to and from,” said Chester. “Generally speaking, movement only occurs between reserves, and even then, it can only be done for one of three purposes, none of which involve sporting events.”

“So what purposes can they be moved for?”

“Conservation, welfare, and education.”

“Education,” Artemis repeated, an idea forming in her head. “That’s it! That’s our loophole! You know, that actually might work.”

“Glad to hear it, but it still won’t be easy. You’ll need official authorisation and everything you do will need to be overseen and signed off by a qualified dragonologist. I might be able to put you in touch with someone who was in the year above me, if you like. Chap by the name of Rosier, Felix Rosier.”

Artemis shook her head, her smile widening as she did so.

“No need,” she told Chester. “I have my own dragonologist. Thanks, though. And thanks for helping me with this.”

“You’re welcome, though I do prefer knowing the reason why I’m being asked to do a favour before I do it,” Chester said wryly. Artemis remained tight lipped. “Very well, then. Why don’t you tell me how you ended up working on this classified and clandestine project?”

“I won the job in a card game.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. I played poker against Ludo and won a job in his office. That and some tickets for the Quidditch World Cup Final.”

“And are you a seasoned poker player?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” said Artemis, not entirely sure what Chester meant by seasoned. “But it got me the job.”

“I see,” Chester frowned. “Last I heard you were working for Gringotts with Bill.”

“I was.”

“So, was your decision to leave and take a job you won in a card game a spontaneous one, or…”

“I wanted a change,” Artemis said shortly. Chester inclined his head and opened his mouth as if to say something, but she interrupted him before he had the chance to do so. “Have you always wanted to be in the Council of Magical Law?”

“Yes. I started in the Department for Misuse of Magic, worked my way up from there.”

“And the piano playing?”

“It’s extra money, and I enjoy it. It’s good to have a creative outlet,” said Chester. “What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?”

“I dunno. Just stuff, I guess.” In response to her answer, Chester began to laugh again. Artemis frowned. “What?”

“You aren’t particularly forthcoming with information, are you?” he asked her, shaking his head. “You know, I am actually trying to get to know you.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re interesting.”

Artemis was not expecting Chester to say that, nor was she expecting the look in his eyes to be as sincere as it was. She shuffled slightly in her seat.

“I don’t think I’m that interesting,” she told him. Chester smiled as if he were amused. “Now what?”

“Well, I dread to think how immeasurably dull I must be if the girl who got her current job by winning a card game and spent her schooldays breaking ancient curses is ‘not that interesting’.” The expression on Chester’s face made Artemis grin, too. “You should smile more. It suits you,” he told her. “Humour me. Tell me more.”

A month previously, Artemis would have done just that; she would have told him about her time at Gringotts, about the time she helped to illegally smuggle a baby dragon across the continent to the dragon reserve in Romania where her friend Charlie lived, or a story about her eventually successful attempts to open the Cursed Vaults when she was at school. But now, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to tell him, or anyone, about any of that. It might lead to harder questions, ones about Rowan’s death and her relationships with her immediate family members. And besides, that was how she had ended up needing Chester’s help in the first place, wasn’t it? She had opened her mouth and answered all of Thomasina Thistlethwaite’s questions, and it had backfired horribly, and now here she was.

So instead, she told Chester a less personal but also less interesting story about playing Quidditch, and turned the topic to the one thing she knew they had in common: music. This turned out to be a very strategic move on her part, for they were able to talk about that freely until the meal was over and Muggles outside had stopped playing their string instruments.

Chester paid for the meal and the two of them walked through the covered market together until they reached the square outside. The night air was bitterly cold, and Artemis shivered in her jacket, which had been returned safely from the waiter. Chester frowned at her.

“Here,” he said, removing the scarf from his neck and draping it over her shoulders. “Take this.”

“Thanks,” replied Artemis. “For dinner, too. And the legal advice, obviously. That was really good of you to look all that up for me.”

“You’re more than welcome. I’ll never complain about being given an excuse for more reading and research.”

Chester’s words caused something to stir in the recesses of Artemis’ mind, but she wasn’t sure what. Somehow, she got the sense of distant familiarity. It was uncanny and not entirely comfortable, and she shook her head to push it away.

“Still,” she said, “I know you’re busy enough as it is without me asking you for favours.”

“It was only a couple of late evenings, Artemis. That’s what coffee is for,” Chester smiled wryly. “And anyway, I’ve always been a bit of a night owl.”

That feeling of niggling nostalgia came over Artemis again, and this time she found herself unable to ignore it. Perhaps, she did not want to. And, for some reason, that strange sensation was what spurred her not just to allow Chester to lean in and kiss her on the cheek, but to kiss him on the lips in return.

That feeling of niggling nostalgia came over Artemis again, and this time she found herself unable to ignore it. Perhaps, she did not want to. And, for some reason, that strange sensation was what spurred her not just to allow Chester to lean in and kiss her on the cheek, but to kiss him on the lips in return.

#artemis hexley #hpff #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #arthur weasley #ludo bagman #badeea ali #chester davies

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[jamiebamberdaily]

TV & Satellite Week Article - Issue 25 (24 - 30 June 2023)

Tap/Click ‘Keep Reading’ to view the transcript.

Picture Cannes and you’ll probably imagine an azure ocean, the annual film festival or multimillionaires sunbathing on superyachts - but Acorn TV’s six-part romantic crime drama Cannes Confidential is hoping to make it synonymous with screwball comedy and a ‘will they, won’t the? central pairing.

Detective Camille Delmasse (Lucie Lucas) is having a challenging day when she collides with debonair art collector Harry King (Beyond Paradise’s Jamie Bamber) on the Boulevard de la Croisette, wrecking her beloved classic car in the process. Already irritated by the smooth-talking stranger, Camille’s day goes from bad to worse as she and her colleague Léa Robert (Tamara Marthe) investigate the murder of a street artist known as the Jester, only to find themselves crossing paths with Harry...

He pops us everywhere within the town, infuriating her,’ reveals Bamber. ‘They get off on the wrong foot, and the bickering and badinage, an that energy between two people with sexual chemistry finding each other intolerable was what drew me in.’ It soon becomes clear that there’s much more to Harry than he’s willing to let on to anyone, but as Camille comes close to finding out what he’s really up to, he proposes a mutually-beneficial alliance between the two of them.

PIVOTAL PACT

‘When Harry finds out she’s a policewoman, it’s a problem for him because he’s got something to hide,’ says Bamber, 50. ‘But he also happens to know a lot of the characters involved in the supposed wrongful imprisonment of her dad, the former chief of police, so they each have something that the other needs.

‘They have a quick agreement, a sort of poisoned chalice that they each take a sip from, and from that moment, they become more dependent on each other.’

Bamber likens the show to ‘the love child of Moonlighting, The Persuaders! and Miami Vice’ with its compelling blend of a feuding odd couple at its centre and solving crimes in scenic locations, but Cannes Confidential has a few more twists up its sleeve... ‘Léa, Camille’s police partner has designs on her as well,’ explains Bamber. ‘So you’ve got this odd love triangle at the heart of the show, each angle of the triangle antagonising the other.’

For avowed Francophile Bamber, who speaks fluent French, the lure of filming on location in and around Cannes proved impossible to resist - as was the opportunity to deploy his skills for the show’s French-language version. ‘The language was a big deal, because you’ve got a mostly French cast who are working in English and they were real troopers,’ says Bamber. ‘But they shoe was on the other foot when we dubbed into French - I was allowed to dub my own part, but that was when the French actors really came to the fore!’

Navigating a language barrier wasn’t the only difficulty that Bamber faced during filming for the series last summer - the scorching Mediterranean temperatures left him literally hot under the collar. ‘The most challenging thing I had to deal with was wearing a three-piece suit in the sunshine for three months, and trying not to ruin it with perspiration!’ he laughs. ‘My dresser, did amazing work with portable fans, whipping one shirt off and drying it while I wore the other, because I was wringing wet a lot of the time.’

#Jamie Bamber #Cannes Confidential #Interview #Interview Updates #TV & Satellite Magazine #Magazine

[titleleaf]

for the fic ask: 1 3 8

1. What's the fic you're most proud of?

forest in the desert (LA Confidential, Ed Exley/Jack Vincennes, 14.3k) has the grim distinction of having been the fic I loved the most riiiiight before all the shit came out about Kevin Spacey (including his actions while making that same fucking movie) so it's in shitty-actor purgatory now.

Technique-wise, I'm really proud of this is the hand (Black Mirror: Bandernsatch, Stefan Butler/Colin Ritman) -- it's a relatively short fic but written in CYOA/branching storyline format to mimic the game itself. It's not a sophisticated set of storylines or a complicated game but I had so much fun working it all out. It's playable in Twine! Imagine how many more of my unhinged projects could be Twine games too!

3. What fic are you emotionally attached to?

deep red bells (The Stand - Stephen King, Nadine Cross, 2.3k) is maybe the completed fic of my own I think about most often. I'd love to expand it but maybe it's fine as it is.

8. Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? If not, would you tell anyone?

People I know from fandom IRL know I write fic (but generally don't read what I write, lol) and my older sister, who introduced me to fandom, definitely knows. My mother knows that my friends write fanfiction, but she writes original fiction and her opinion of fic is pretty low. She doesn't get why anyone wouldn't just make up something completely wholesale original in plot (she's a big plot-oriented person) and doesn't have much suspension of disbelief for stuff that from a fandom POV seems obvious to me. (Like "how is it possible that all the members of BTS are all gay in this zombie apocalypse RPF AU, that seems statistically unlikely", or "why do people enjoy this danmei if it doesn't accurately represent the experiences of gay and bisexual men in present-day China". Rigorous realism only, hdu.)

#ska writes a thing

[tlonista]

Blood and Blue Diamonds: Foreword

I started writing an Arcane film noir AU because I wanted to have fun after an angsty Jayvik divorce story by imagining Jayce and Viktor in nice suits, and now I’m writing meta on historically accurate prejudice in fanfiction. Nice going on that one. But here we are.

Anyhow, Arcane is a show with a diverse cast for whom racism, sexism, and homophobia theoretically don’t exist, and Blood and Blue Diamonds is set in 1930s Los Angeles, a city whose mayor was in the KKK. This presents some obvious questions. I really do want this to be fun by my admittedly angst-loving standards, and it’s a fictionalized reflection of real events in the vein of pseudo-historical films like Chinatown* and LA Confidential. I’m not aiming for perfect factual accuracy in League of Legends slashfic.

That said, it felt cheap to retcon central elements of LA history and culture or just… not acknowledge the gender and implicit race or ethnicity of major characters. Arcane is all about power differentials and how people’s social circumstances shape them! In America that means more than class.

My general position is that characters don’t need to hold “period-typical” beliefs, but they can’t break major institutional barriers far ahead of real history. Cait isn’t a rookie beat cop, for instance, because the LAPD cordoned policewomen into specific departments where that wasn’t an option. There’s very little overt on-screen bigotry and no racial/homophobic/sexist slurs, like I’m not Elmore fucking Leonard here, but characters acknowledge and are shaped by prejudice. A Mel that’s a Black woman in the 1930s is going to be a slightly different person than someone from the very top of the social food chain in Arcane, even if she’s still rich and powerful. A Mexican American Jayce and Czech immigrant Viktor don’t fall as neatly into a social hierarchy as Piltover Jayce and Undercity Viktor.

I don’t have a formal background in early-20th-century LA history, so my understanding of it is drawn from journalistic and academic secondary sources, archival newspapers and photographs, and roughly contemporary fiction; there’s a bibliography of books and films that I drew on if you happen to enjoy that kind of thing. From the Arcane side, it’s like a partial post-timeskip arc where Mel is in The Maltese Falcon, Jayce is in Chinatown, and Viktor is in The Big Sleep. True to the conventions of the genre, most people are seedy and possibly criminal. There’s lots of Council slander that’s not meant to reflect their characters in the Arcane universe. At some point I am going to snap and summarize a chapter as “Forget it, Jayce, it’s Chinatown.”

This wasn’t the only way to handle things, but it opened the door to several interesting adaptational challenges, and it felt more true to the best parts of Arcane than mimicking the style of hardboiled period fiction while stripping out its cultural context. I’ll have more specific notes on later chapters, but in general I owe a huge debt to Mike Davis’s City of Quartz, Nathanael West’s The Day of the Locust, the 1930s WPA-commissioned guidebook Los Angeles: A Guide to the City and its Environs, and any film starring Humphrey Bogart.

So anyway, welcome to the most needlessly elaborate fic I’ve ever written: a novel about a lonely bisexual detective and a reckless photographer with a dark past hunting stolen diamonds for a cryptic antiques dealer during the Great Depression and discovering dangerous secrets about the Los Angeles labor movement and the California Water Wars, except everyone is from a Netflix cartoon about League of Legends.

* It pains me to mention Chinatown, because Roman Polanski is an unmitigatedly awful person, but the film influenced me so strongly that I can’t not talk about it.

#arcanoir

[cwarscars]

FROM: Kunsel Zantos, SOLDIER OPERATIVE 2C ( @sentmail ) TO: Director Heidegger, HEAD OF PUBLIC SECURITY ( cwarscars ) SUBJECT: Regarding the planned budget cuts...

With all due respect, I would consider against imposing the new haircut policies — just the haircuts, the uniforms ones are fine and I am one hundred percent behind getting everyone else to follow regulation as firmly as I do.

Why do I say this? Multiple reasons.

1) SOLDIER's current individualized fashion sense is a brand of the Shin-Ra corporation, and I can only imagine that you'll be dealing with a lot of pushback from the marketing departments. It is this chance for "individuality" that drives a lot of SOLDIER program registrations.

2) Which leads to the next point: I'm sure someone as detail oriented as you would have noticed the strictness of all other SOLDIER regulations — these are all imposed by the Science Department, and already deal with a considerable ammount of pushback when they are in fact mandated in order to limit possible health complications related to the mako enhancements. You may impose the regulations, but you may also find it hard to actually enforce them if you can't provide good enough reasoning as to why.

3) SOLDIER is a den of monsters, and one such monster currently appeased is vanity. I am not saying that some people would snap at having to cut their hair, but I will also not say that's not a possibility. We are talking about men and women quite literally told they are above mere men, and the more dramatic of us will take it literally and expect special treatment in favor of being Shin-Ra's sword and shield and being subjected to the hands of the Science Department.

3.5) There is a chance of retribution and rebellion, is what I'm saying. Yes, over hair. I could give you a resumed list of past such petty rebellions from having worked with the last Director of SOLDIER.

I'm only stepping in to leave my two cents as someone who's worked in the SOLDIER tutorial program which you have since discontinued, I know a lot of people, and I know how said lot will react to these changes.

Best Regards, Kunsel Reis de la Costa Zantos SOLDIER OPERATIVE SECOND CLASS

This email is confidential!

he glances at the email, a lazy look of eyes crusading through words as if not to read an 'important' document but rather a 'where's wally' book. he searches each paragraph for something that will stick out enough to snatch his interest. unfortunately for heidegger ( and kunsel, though he'd not know it ) the general's interest wanes fairly fast.

a thought crosses his mind regarding the policy - a funny thought of SOLDIERs rebelling after having their annual buzz cuts. a bunch of bald boys running amock of the building. odin, it's enough to make a man smile. the ridiculousness of it. they were SOLDIERs, no?

and though points raised are good enough for the man to have sent an email, heidegger is immediate to dismiss it - a wave of his hand and a flush of his nostrils. a scoff because lords know, he's better things to do. better things to do like catch sight of himself in the reflective surface of a photo near his desk. admire the style of his hair and cut of his beard, brows ( freshly groomed - though that's a secret! ). a smile weaving across his face. well, when he was young he'd donned short hair and a little stubble. can't hurt anyone else that badly can it?

as he preps to write a response, heidegger slips fingers through the well-groomed strands of his beard, admires himself a little more before hands clasp the keyboard of his computer.

FROM: Director Heidegger, HEAD OF PUBLIC SECURITY TO: Kunsel Zantos, SOLDIER OPERATIVE 2C ( //sentmail ) SUBJECT: Regarding the planned budget cuts...

I do not recall sending an email asking for your 'two cents' on the matter.

Do you have any work to do currently? Or would you like me to send you some?

Regarding the matters raised, I will be consulting with Director Lazard later today. While he answers for the number of SOLDIER currently bemoaning their positions and betraying the company, he can also answer the incredibly important question surrounding hair-care. :-)

Kind Regards, 

Director Heidegger, HEAD OF PUBLIC SECURITY. 

he’s close to hitting send before a thought crosses the mind, lips broken by the white of fangs - the smallest chuckle under his breath. why assure ( or deride ) anybody when he could make them sweat instead? he manages his desktop, searches his screen for a familiar email. erases his last and goes again. 

FROM: Director Heidegger, HEAD OF PUBLIC SECURITY TO: Kunsel Zantos, SOLDIER OPERATIVE 2C ( //sentmail ) SUBJECT: Regarding the planned budget cuts...

Thank you for the email; I am currently out of the office, but will have a secretary respond to your email at the soonest possible date. 

If it is urgent, please call [ xxx-xxx-xxxx ]. If it is not urgent, email again in [ 7 days ] time. 

Kind Regards,

Director Heidegger, HEAD OF PUBLIC SECURITY.

of course, the phone number is a dud and the general is sat sipping a coffee at his desk with a wide grin on his lips. 

gosh, fancy sephiroth with a buzz cut ! hilarious stuff! 

#(answered) #(ic) #heid sat his computer like 'nah' #if he was an internet baby hed have replied with tl;dr #sorry kunsel you tried it #(queue; open the door get on the floor everybody walk the dinosaur) #i wrote a MASSIVE reply and tumblr did an 'error' and deleted the whole thing

[writingonesdreams]

Hey Dreamy 🥰

Happy Blorbo Blorbsday! Good luck on all your exams coming up this month! I'll give you a soft one to help you keep it easy 😂❤️

In a modern AU what would your main 5 OCs favourite movies or games be?

@bloodlessheirbyjacques

Hey Fiery🥰❤ Thanks for the well-wishes! I got one next week and then one at the end of September so at least a breather in between.

That's a lovely question.😍

Leander - def the whole Daniel Craig James Bond series. Aside the last one, cause he wants the protag to always win.

Zephyr - Last Samurai. The whole atmosphere, the discipline, the training. I imagine he would be also fan of all the King Arhur and Merlin and Round table movies.

Kieran - Mad Max Fury Road. Something in a harsh setting with many fight scenes. Heist movies. Anti-heroes. Pirates of Caribbean would also be a fave.

Skye - You've got mail. Cheesy romance with intellectual focus/debates. Old movies. And things like Avatar and Winnetou for the culture clash conflicts.

Hal - Star Wars. Star Trek. More into scifi but Lord of the Rings would be nice too. As crazy fantastical and non-real life as possible.

Bonus: cause I'm getting to know them too

Juno - Devil wears Prada. Musicals like West side story and Chicago. And she doesn't mind the occasional horror and suspense.

Cameron - Godfather. The Family. LA Confidential. Suspense, thriller, mafia movies.

Thanks for the question!💕✨

#ask #writeblr #blorbo blursday #wip: tears of iron #movies

[onlinebusinessportal]

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Moreover, the performers showcased in sensual strip clubs are masters of the art of seduction, weaving a spellbinding tapestry of movement, grace, and allure that leaves patrons spellbound. From graceful dancers to mesmerizing aerialists and sultry burlesque performers, these venues showcase talent of the highest caliber, ensuring an unforgettable experience for all who enter. The performances are designed to evoke a range of emotions and sensations, from excitement and anticipation to desire and ecstasy, creating an atmosphere of unbridled passion and sensuality.

Privacy is another key benefit of sensual strip clubs in Vegas, offering patrons the opportunity to indulge in their desires away from the prying eyes of the outside world. Exclusive VIP areas, secluded lounges, and private rooms provide a sanctuary where guests can explore their fantasies with discretion and confidentiality, free from judgment or intrusion. Whether it's a private dance or an intimate conversation, these exclusive spaces offer a level of intimacy and privacy that enhances the overall experience.

In addition to the entertainment and ambiance, sensual strip clubs in Vegas often boast an array of amenities and services designed to elevate the experience to new heights of luxury. From lavish bottle service and VIP access to gourmet dining options and bespoke cocktail menus, these venues leave no stone unturned in their quest to provide patrons with a truly unforgettable evening of indulgence and pleasure.

At the core of the allure of Las Vegas premium strip clubs lies their ability to create an atmosphere of heightened sensuality and intrigue. From the moment patrons step through the doors, they are enveloped in an ambiance that tantalizes the senses, from the seductive lighting and sultry music to the luxurious surroundings and tantalizing aromas. Each element is carefully curated to evoke a sense of desire and anticipation, setting the stage for an unforgettable evening of indulgence and pleasure.

The performers showcased in sensual strip clubs are true artists of seduction, weaving a spellbinding tapestry of movement, grace, and allure that leaves patrons spellbound. From graceful dancers to mesmerizing aerialists and sultry burlesque performers, these venues showcase talent of the highest caliber, ensuring an experience that is as captivating as it is unforgettable. The performances are designed to evoke a range of emotions and sensations, from excitement and anticipation to desire and ecstasy, creating an atmosphere of unbridled passion and sensuality.

[nicklloydnow]

Old World Elegance

“The one-off creation emerged from Bugatti’s Sur Mesure division, which handles the most outlandish and creative customization projects ordered by Bugatti’s ultra-wealthy clientele. This project began when a passionate Bugatti collector approached the company with the idea to honor Bugatti and its W-16 engine, which will end production after the final 2024 Mistral roadster leaves the factory. The process of designing the Golden Era took two years, with the company describing it as “the most challenging bespoke project that Bugatti has ever undertaken.”

The Golden Era uses a Bugatti Chiron Super Sport as its base, which packs an 1578-horsepower version of the quad-turbocharged 8.0-liter W-16 and the special long-tailed carbon-fiber bodywork from the 300-mph Super Sport 300+. In our hands, the Super Sport shot to 60 mph in a blistering 2.2 seconds and only needed 14.8 seconds to crest the 200-mph mark.

While the W-16 that has been Bugatti's hallmark only arrived in 2005 with the record-breaking Veyron, the customer wanted his masterpiece to feature important vehicles from throughout the brand’s 100-plus-year history. The images emerge on the front fenders and doors as the paint fades from the metallic Nocturne Black color to a light golden hue called “Doré” that is unique to this vehicle. On the passenger side, the 26 hand-drawn sketches include iconic cars like the Type 41 Royale and Type 57 SC Atlantic. There are also depictions of planes, a train, the company's chateau headquarters in Molsheim, and signatures from Jean and Ettore Bugatti.

The driver's side displays 19 sketches detailing Bugatti's history since its revival by Romano Artioli in 1987 and subsequent purchase by the Volkswagen Group in 1998. Here we see stunning hypercars from the EB110 to the Veyron and Chiron, as well as the side profile of the one-off La Voiture Noire and the W-16 engine. The limited-production Divo, Centodieci, and Mistral, as well as the track-only Bolide, also make appearances.

Bugatti says the drawings were made using the same pens used for sketching designs on paper and were applied directly onto the body by hand. The painstaking process took more than 400 hours, and Bugatti described the procedure of hand-drawing on a one-off bespoke Chiron as "intimidating."

The interior mirrors the look of the body panels, with three legendary Bugattis emblazoned on each leather door panel. The driver's side focuses on the modern Bugatti hypercars—the EB110, Veyron, and Chiron—while the passengers side features iconic pre-war cars, the Type 35, Type 57SC Atlantic, and Type 41 Royale. The hand-painted images are accompanied by stitching reading "Golden Era" on the headrests (with the same phrase appearing on the underside of the rear wing) and a “One-of-One” badge on the center console. The driver's-side doorsill marks the modern era of Bugattis with the dates “1987–2023” while the passenger's side sill reads “1909–1956” for the life span of the original Bugatti company.

The Bugatti Chiron Super Sport already costs nearly $4 million, and while Bugatti didn't detail the price for the Golden Era, we imagine its dedicated owner paid a significant amount more for this special Super Sport. The owner will pick up his unique Chiron at Monterey Car Week, and while we hope the Golden Era gets driven, this is one hypercar that would be just as much at home in a museum as it would on track.”

New World Gauchness

“Unless your name was on a confidential email sent to a smattering of Dodge customers this past June, you were not supposed to know about a very limited run of 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon 170s being built. In a sequel to Dodge's Jailbreak program, wherein, for a price, customers could special-order Dodge Challenger and Charger models with almost any combination of interior and exterior colors while mixing and matching a variety of special trim treatments and badges, just 40 Dodge Demon 170 customers were sent an invitation to participate in the special-order Demon 170 Jailbreak program, all of whom have confirmed orders for the 1,025-hp 2023 Dodge SRT Demon 170. Want to participate in this program? That's too bad. You're too late.

To get on the list, you either had to be a celebrity (Dodge obliquely refers to these folks as "select individuals" with "Dodge brand affiliation" in the email below) or you had to be a rabid repeat customer of multiple Dodge SRT products over a multiyear period. Rumor is, the list of invitees was drawn up by Dodge president Tim Kuniskis, who has long championed the hardiest of Dodge fans. The shortlist of customers was split between 20 celebs and 20 hardcore new SRT buyers, and the members at Hellcat.org have been able to figure out that purchasing as many as four previous SRT vehicles was not enough to qualify for the list.

We contacted Dodge PR for an official program description and got this short response: "The Jailbreak 170 is a celebration of the ultimate Last Call Dodge Challenger SRT Demon 170 shared with our most loyal muscle car customers. Select individuals were offered this exclusive paint option based on their new Dodge Charger and Challenger purchase history and Dodge brand affiliation. This one-of-one paint option will add an extra layer of customization and collectability to the record-breaking Challenger SRT Demon 170 and was made available on a limited basis to those who have meant so much to the latest era of Dodge muscle. The option is no longer being offered."

Each of the 40 special Jailbreak Demon 170s will have a unique color, with the quantity split between 20 throwback colors and 20 special one-off colors that were chosen by Dodge's color and style department. The honor of choosing your one-of-one Demon 170 Jailbreak model costs an extra $30K on top of the $96,666 base price. That's a total of $131,961 (including destination and gas guzzler tax)—which represents a unicorn price for a stripped-down Demon 170 (probably not gonna happen) at MSRP (also probably not gonna happen). All jailbreaking aside, the concept of an SRT vehicle selling at MSRP at this point is a pre-COVID fever dream; Dodge message boards have already lit up with dealers and brokers offering their Demon 170 allotment for $100K over sticker, and those aren't even Jailbreak models.

(…)

The Demon 170 Jailbreak program mirrors a similar program that ushered out the 2017 Dodge Viper. Known colloquially as the "1 of 1" program which offered customization of new 2017 Vipers from one of 50 million possible build combinations, Dodge's Demon program utilizes the same company, Prefix Corporation of Auburn Hills, Michigan, to perform the Jailbreak Demon 170's custom paintjobs. After being built in Stellantis's Brampton, Ontario, plant with all the customer's chosen options and black paint, Demon 170s in the Jailbreak program are shipped to Prefix, where they are sprayed-out by hand for their final unique color coat before being shipped in an enclosed car hauler.”

#bugatti #chiron #golden era #luxury #dodge #demon #dodge demon #jailbreak