#whoever decided to cut those scenes

[inejs-bitch]

netflix try not to delete scenes that are essential to portray the depth of Jesper’s character challenge (failed)

#and also inej’s for that matter #whoever decided to cut those scenes #you’ll be hearing from my lawyer #i’m mad #six of crows #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #netflix #crooked kingdom #inej ghafa #leigh bardugo #nina zenik #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #wylan van eck #soc #grisha #grishaverse #sab #shadow and bone cast #the dregs #alina starkov #kuwei yul bo #malyen oretsev #amita suman #kit young

[falseficus]

I read a physical copy of monstrous regiment soon after listening to the audiobook, and I noticed two tiny discrepancies between the two editions that make an absolute world of difference. when I found out that these discrepancies existed (you’ll find reddit posts backing me up about them), I felt cheated that my first experience of the book had portrayed a less cohesive arc than pratchett intended

if you’re looking to buy or read monstrous regiment, I strongly recommend the doubleday 2003 version or the corgi 2004 version, which iirc contain the original text. The harper collins publications and audiobook both contain these changes, which imo are confusing and severely undercut the themes the book is trying to get across. if anyone knows the status of other editions of the book pls feel free to add on

obviously the audiobooks and ebooks are more accessible than physical books to some people, so if you read one of those just know that the original text is different in some key ways. I still recommend you read the book because it’s crazy good :)

the changes I noticed, beneath the cut to avoid some serious spoilers:

firstly, the last line of Jackrum’s last scene. in the Doubleday version, this line reads:

“Jackrum had turned her chair to the fire, and had settled back. Around him, the kitchen worked.”

in the harpercollins version, the line reads:

“Jackrum had turned her chair the the fire, and had settled back. Around her, the kitchen worked.”

this pronoun change is actually has huge implications. in the scene in question, jackrum, a transgender man, reveals that he joined the army in disguise. he is referred to as “she” throughout his background reveal. however, he then considers where his future will take him, and in the final line of the scene his pronoun reverts back to “he.” jackrum’s pronoun goes from he->she->he, encapsulating the gendery arc of the scene. however, in the altered he->she->she version of the scene, half of that circle is erased. the neat tie-up of jackrum’s journey is left confusingly unresolved, and the importance of his gender to the book’s overarching themes goes underemphasized

the second change I noticed is how maladict appears in the book’s ending:

in the Doubleday version, maladict appears “in full uniform.”

in the harpercollins version, maladict appears “in full female uniform.”

maladict is the last soldier to reveal [their] true gender, keeping up a masc/ambiguous presentation far after all the rest of the squad has come forward as women. “in full uniform” maintains this ambiguity, allowing the reader to decide for themself whether maladict comes forward and presents as fully female or continues to dress masculinely despite the fact that circumstances no longer require it (in fact I believe that the latter is more likely, as maladict says “thought I’d try again,” which could mean dressing in male uniform again). “in full female uniform” removes that ambiguity, and brings maladict’s arc to a somewhat unsatisfying conclusion. it eliminates the possibility of maladict as transgender or gender-non-conforming, and I’m left wondering, “if maladict presents as female so readily, why make such a fuss of it before now?”

both changes undermine the book’s message by eliminating its space for non-cisnormative identity… which is kinda crucial to the whole idea. im honestly really disappointed that these changes were made in any version of the book, because whoever made them clearly didn’t get the point

#monstrous regiment #discworld #terry pratchett #the frog speaks

[fob4ever]

i was at a bookstore yesterday that had a copy of the kerrang: living loud book that featured the FOB watergun fight article i've never seen transcribed anywhere so i made a transcript of it for archival purposes. enjoy! from kerrang, may 2005.

For a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun while wearing just underpants, Fall Out Boy bassist Peter Wentz looks remarkably chipper. Especially when you consider the person about to unload in his face is guitarist and vocalist Patrick Stump, grinning madly despite the fact that fellow six-stringer Joe Trohman has a pistol to his temple. He in turn is firmly in the firing line of drummer Andy Hurley, cackling loudly with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Passers-by stop and stare, waiting for the inevitable, messy climax of this "Reservoir Dogs" scenario. The tension mounts, onlookers brace themselves, the band get ready to open fire. Suddenly it happens.

"Argh!" screams Wentz as several litres of icy water soak him. "That's fucking cold!"

No, Fall Out Boy aren't about to blow each other away, They're having a water fight for K!'s benefit in a car park at the Chicago stop on travelling punk circus Warped Tour, where they're knocking out their "softcore" wares ("We're basically a hardcore band that couldn't cut it as a hardcore band," laughs Wentz) on the main stage alongside big hitters like The Offspring, Avenged Sevenfold and My Chemical Romance. The Windy City is more than just another stop for them; Chicago is Fall Out Boy's hometown, the place where they formed out of the ashes of their old hardcore bands, and where they still live with their parents- who are here for today's show - during the few weeks of the year they're not on tour.

It all started for Fall Out Boy here in 2001 when the members wanted a break from playing in their various bands. Long time friends Wentz and Hurley got together with hardcore associate Joe Trohman to do something a bit less heavy. Following a conversation about avant-metallers Neurosis in a bookstore, Trohman introduced Stump to the rest of the band. When their other bands folded, they took on Fall Out Boy full time.

"We wanted to do things before we were ready," chuckles Peter Wentz fondly of the early days of DIY tours for the benefit of the one or two people who would show up. "We'd plan two-week tours, just to see the world. Nobody would book us, so we had to do it all on our own."

"A lot of bands have scenes to go into and surround themselves with those people," says Stump. "We had no scene, so we would just play anywhere, with whoever."

FOB have come a long way from their humble roots. Right now they're America's fastest rising band. Radio smash 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down' has placed them squarely in the mainstream, having spent three weeks as the Number One song on MTV's 'TRL', a prime-time show usually devoted to pop acts like Maroon 5 and Ashlee Simpson. So dizzying their Stateside assent has been, they had to cancel their recent European tour in order to play the MTV Music Video Awards, where they are also nominated for 'Sugar...'. Thankfully, FOB haven't let the screaming adoration turn them into big-headed twats.

"A piece of shit with legs on it could walk onto 'TRL' and people would still go crazy," laughs Wentz. "That stuff just goes straight by me. With the fast turnover in the music industry, how can anyone have an ego"

Andy Hurley chips in. "You can be today's main stage and tomorrow's trash."

That's to find out tomorrow, though. Today among the madness of trying to plan anything on the Warped Tour - stage times are decided daily by lottery - Fall Out Boy have to try and find time for hanging out with family and friends.

"Three weeks on Warped is like three months on a normal tour," says Peter Wentz.

"Home becomes like Atlantis on tour, you wonder if it actually exists after a while," adds Patrick Stump.

Now FOB are big stars, a lot of old 'friends' have been coming out of the woodwork. Joe Trohman and Peter Wentz have polarised views on those who didn't give a toss back in the day suddenly becoming your pal once you've made it.

"The way I look at it is if someone's a dick to you and you don't know them, so what?" says Trohman. "Just care about who did support you, keep those important people close, not the people who five years ago called you a loser."

"I work the opposite way!" Wentz counters, before adding darkly, "The people I think about most are enemies. My brain works on revenge!"

Though a tight knit group of close friends, Peter Wentz is clearly Fall Out Boy's spokesman. He does most of the talking during the interview and writes the lyrics, and seems like the most driven one of the lot. As well as doing Fall Out Boy, Wentz has also written a book with tattoo artist Joe Tesaure, 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side'. It's a dark, twisted tale that could have come straight from the brain of Tim Burton.

"I've always been into Roahl Dahl and people like that, and I was friends with a tattoo artist at the time and we came up with this idea to do a book together," he explains. "It wasn't something I felt fitted in with what Fall Out Boy is, I hate when bands do something that's not 'them'. The book is what it is, and Fall Out Boy is what we are."

Despite all thise talk of nightmares and revenge, FOB are upbeat individuals, enjoying their newfound success, while refusing to allow success to go to their heads. They'll tell you they don't like the shallowness of groupies or industry parties, and that the trappings of rock stardom hold no appeal.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," says Wentz in closing. "It's not like, 'this amount of time and this amount of shows = this kind of bus'. I appreciate what we've got. We've toured in a tiny van and it was cool, but now we're having new adventures living like this. I don't feel we deserve it more than any other bands do."

He surveys the sumptuosly appointed tour bus for a moment before chuckling heartily.

"Actually, that's a lie, we totally deserve it more than anyone else! Ha ha!"

#yayyyyyy #article

[indigovigilance]

Maggie is Possessed

This is my second meta! My first one is here.

I’m not the first fan to be suspicious of Maggie but I’m going to argue why she might be possessed (and I hypothesize that specifically she is possessed by an angel), rather than being eldritch herself, and will propose some reasons why the hitchhiker might be doing this.

First, a quick list of her early observable behaviors:

She cannot spell urgency

She signs “very faithfully yours”

She refuses to drink alcohol

Golden angel-wing earrings, anyone?

Have you seen those clothes?

All of those things are angelic, but why possession, specifically? Evidence is presented in order of chronology and not necessarily how strong it is, below the cut:

First: The timeline is weird. She’s eight months behind on rent, and suddenly decides she needs to speak to Mr. Fell “on a matter of some ugrency” and insists she can be out by next week. It’s inconsistent behavior that could indicate that a new decision-maker has taken over. First-point-five, she calls Aziraphale an angel: does she know?

Second: re-watch the first coffee shop scene, S2E1 at 13:20. Yes yes, it reads like a cute lesbian flirtation scene. That’s the cowrie shell. Pick it up. There’s a caraway seed underneath. When she arrives at the coffee shop for the first time, Maggie’s confused “ah, yes, coffee” might not be the flustered redirect you thought it was, but rather indicating that whoever is riding around in that body doesn’t actually know how a coffee shop works. But Nina (to Hitchhiker!Maggie’s relief) remembers her order. So Human!Maggie has been here before, in fact, Nina calls her a regular, to which Hitchhiker!Maggie says “oh right, yes, I’m that.” Not sus at all, sister.

Third: During the “herbal tea” exchange, Maggie says to Nina that “I didn’t go to parties” and she was “not that sort of teenager.” On it’s face it reads like she was a goody-two-shoes human teenager, but consider for a moment that whoever is speaking right now was never human; the statement isn’t a lie, but its very misleading. Who else do we know that does that?

Fourth: During the lock-in, Maggie tells the story of how her great grandmother’s store was in a corner of Mr. Fell’s bookshop, so he lets them stay on for old time’s sake. One possible interpretation of this phrasing is that Hitchhiker!Maggie knows that Aziraphale has owned that shop continuously for at least 100 years. Nina is the one that suggests that it was actually Aziraphale’s grandfather, and Maggie nods along.

Fifth: Maggie says it’s a “coincidence” that the power goes in and out when Crowley passes by; could read as a deliberate redirect from someone who actually knows that Crowley is a demon? But more on that later.

Sixth: I’m skipping a lot of intervening content BUT at the ball, during the dance, she says “this is just what we do, isn’t it?” to which Nina emphatically replies that no, it isn’t. So even though Nina has been effected by an emotion-suppressing aura, she hasn’t lost her memory of how society generally works in 2023, but somehow Maggie isn’t up to date. This is parallel to Point #2, not knowing how to order coffee.

Seventh: Aziraphale’s attempted miracle memory wipe doesn’t work on her. I’ve seen others suggest that it’s due to a miracle blocker but all of his other miracles work, so…

Eighth: Nina calls her “angel.” You thought it was cute. It’s not. It’s a double-bluff. She’s actually an angel.

Ninth: She tells Crowley that “we’re real people.” Okay, human police officer Inspector Constable, whatever you say.

The rest of this is wild speculation. Abandon hope all ye who read below the fold.

So of course this raises the question: why are is the hitchhiker here, and what was Human!Maggie’s motivation to give them permission to hitchhike?

I’ll start with Human!Maggie’s motivation. I believe that she is not just pretendy-good but a properly good person who feels a lot of anguish about her failing business, one that’s been in the family for 100 years, and guilt for not paying her rent. I think she prayed for help, and a “guardian angel” answered her prayers, and she gave that angel permission to possess her and fix the problem.

As for why the angel answered her prayers, I propose that the Metatron sent them to fuck around with Aziraphale. My evidence is that Maggie frequently meddles to Aziraphale’s detriment. In chronological order:

She puts him in a moral choice position: if he evicts her, he’s the bad guy. If he forgives her rent, he’s done something good. Both of these can be leveraged by the Metatron. Notably, after he forgives the rent, Maggie calls him an angel, perhaps to remind him whose side he’s really on *wink wink nudge nudge.*

She confides in her landlord about her crush on the business owner across the street, who’s already in a relationship?! How ridiculously inappropriate?? Maggie??!! But she does, and plants the idea in his head about love, which ultimately becomes the runaway train that makes him extremely vulnerable later.

She refuses to leave the shop during the attack (S2E5), I propose is for purposes of fucking over Aziraphale, as evidenced by…

For this part, I need you to go back and watch it. S2E6 at 3:28. During the pissing contest at the threshold, Maggie turns her head away, there is a sound effect, and that’s when she turns back to Shax and invites the demons in. Hitchhiker!Maggie has taken over and rolled out the carpet for the enemy invasion.

Maggie is the instigator of the “you have to talk about your feelings” conversation, dragging Nina from behind the counter across the street while she has a shop full of customers. Considering that the Metatron is at that very moment at the French restaurant next door, making a job offer to Aziraphale, the timing choice seems very suspect. Almost as if they coordinated to talk to each husband while they were separated.

So, it is possible that Hitchhiker!Maggie was sent by the Metatron as a spy and a saboteur to meddle with Aziraphale. To what end, specifically? Probably to get him to break up with Crowley and/or get him to return to Heaven, but ultimately, I just don’t know. I will admit that I don’t have a very strong conviction that this will become canon, but it was fun to write and I hope that it was fun to read! Leave a note if you enjoyed it!

edit: a link to another meta about why this was such an effective strategy against the husbands

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #maggie #ivoc

[taintandviolent]

The Dork Theory ; Max Cooperman x reader

summary: Against better judgement, you decide to go to a college party. You run into a familiar face there, and you decide to test a long running theory to do with dorks and big 🍆 . Shameless smut ensues.

warnings: smut without plot, pnv, car sex, unprotected sex, handjobs, oral sex, degradation/shaming, recording.

a/n: max deserves it. he really does. not beta-read. this was just a whim kinda fic, so I hope it's not total garbage. enjoy! thanks for reading if you did.

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

It was a party, so you were forcing yourself to do party things. Or so you kept telling yourself. Really, it was a live streaming event for some stupid college fight, which was an event that you wouldn’t be caught dead at – under any circumstances. It wasn’t your scene, you couldn’t care less about fighting – outside of the carnal, hormonal fact that you got to see rippling muscles and displays of strength. At times, even you were simple. Whatever fight had already happened and judging by the sudden uptick in shouts and cheers, you assumed the preferred candidate won. The party was now in full swing with people mingling and drinking excessively. Ah, college. 

Admittedly, you weren’t one for college parties either. It was a place to drink, screw, and in most cases, as a byproduct of the previous two mixing, fight. Of those three things, you only really enjoyed one of them and hadn’t done it in a while – long enough for you to crave it. Maybe that’s why you came to the party to begin with; to get some tail. Albeit hypocritically, you were also drinking. You weren’t drunk, but definitely heading there; your head felt fuzzy as you stared into your half-empty red Solo cup. Whoever had mixed the drinks had erred on the side of too strong.

“Well… hey there.”

You looked up from said cup, one brow quirked. In front of you, stood a guy who looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place him. Eyes narrowed, you scanned him from his shoes to his lush, curly brown locks. He wore jeans and a Something Corporate t-shirt. Really? You realized you’d seen him earlier, schmoozing with girls, explaining something very passionately. They hung on his arms, but seemed distant – but no, that still wasn’t where you recognized him from. 

He was scanning you up and down, lingering on all the right parts of your body; your hips, your breasts, your face. Finally, he spoke. "My name's Max, what's yer--"

"Wait, hold on." You pressed a single finger against his lips, which pressed back into your finger, almost like he was kissing it. 

"Max?" 

He nodded, still compressed against your fingertip. He didn't need to confirm it, really, because just like that, it all came rushing back; it had been years but you knew exactly who he was and you were about to make sure he remembered, too. You withdrew your hand with a breathy chuckle. 

"Like... Max.... Cooperman? The chubby kid who was always recording fights in the schoolyard?"

Ouch. Max cringed, knotting his mouth up to one side. Starting off strong with this one. “Yep, that – was me. And for the record, I was a part of those fights from time to time. And I trained -”  

"Ohhhh my god," you breathed, cutting him off as you covered your mouth with your hand. "You were such a dork, you know that, don't you? Like, such a dork.” 

“Okay, alright.” he said, looking behind him for a brief moment. “I came over ‘cause I have a policy that no cute girls are allowed to stand alone, especially at one of my parties. Are you just gonna’ stand here and bust my balls all night?” 

So he thought you were cute. Your cunt clenched — you’d take that thought to the bank. You grinned inwardly, rocking back and forth on your heels. “I can, if you want me to.” 

He cocked his head like a dog, unsure how to take that. “What, are we gonna’ play fight?” 

“Something like that.” 

You reached forward, teasingly slapping his cheek. With an intrigued expression, Max caught your hand and yanked you towards him, looking at your lips. You mirrored his gaze, wondering what they tasted like, and if they were as soft as they looked.

You couldn’t deny the facts; he wasn’t the dorky kid that you passively paid attention to. He stood taller and had trimmed down, a result of likely more physical activity and maybe better eating habits. The attraction that bubbled up in your core wasn’t new, it had just been dormant for many years. You ran your tongue along your bottom lip, wetting it and Max’s dark brown eyes followed your tongue as it travelled, a smirk stretching across his lips. 

"You still have that Mustang?" 

"Pffft, of course I do." 

“You wanna’ um…” 

Wide-eyed and eager, Max nodded. “Uh, YEAH?” 

The two of you made your way outside, with Max quickly navigating you to where his car was parked. The cool night air bit at your skin, goose flesh erupting over anything that was exposed – mostly your legs. Now in front of the car, your eyes swept over the Mustang, admiring it. You weren’t a car girl, by any means, but you knew when to appreciate them. This was decidedly one of those times. He took care of his car, that much was apparent. 

With a deep breath, you turned back to Max, an expectant smirk on your lips. “So, is this the part where you tell me you’ve had a crush on me since high school?” 

Max laughed as he leaned against the door of the car, shaking his head. You were cute, but this wasn’t a teenage romcom. “Actually, no, I don’t know you. I mean… I wanna’ know you.” 

He reached for you, snaking his hands around your hips to pull you closer. 

“Ohhoh shit, someone gained some confidence when they lost that baby fat, huh?” 

“Damn, okay.” He looked away, almost annoyed, but the lust that was now coursing through his system trumped any fleeting anger. “You seem to know a lot about me.” 

You paused, taken aback as you stared at him. You did. Because while he didn’t remember you, you remembered him. You’d always had an affinity for dorks and paid attention to them, despite cringing at their cornball behaviour – because if you knew one thing, it was that the weird, shy guys were always hung – and there was one particular day where you’d made your opinions about Max Cooperman. 

It was May, somewhere in the middle of the month. You were in a hurry to get to 4th period when you heard a bunch of guys shouting and jeering at each other. The natural instinct to watch a fight took over and you slowed your steps. 

You’d only paused for a second, not wanting to be late to class. He was fighting behind the bleachers, bright, red blood running down his top lip, fists up in front of his face, shouting at some guy: “I got this, bro! I got this!” 

You blinked. Back to reality. 

“Maybe I knew you. Maybe I thought you were cute,” you confessed, letting the alcohol take over your nerves. “Maybe I have a theory that dorky dudes have big cocks.” 

“Butterball Cooperman? Cute? What am I now then, huh?” 

You chewed your lip, not saying anything. Max caught your glance, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes that promised it would lead somewhere — it was the kind of look that said, Hey. My dick just woke up and it’s because of you. You crushed your lips against his, tangling both of your hands in his warm curls. A whisper of fucking hot echoed in your mind. Max didn’t need to hear it, he felt the heat coming off your body, rolling towards him in waves. With his groin throbbing, he connected your bodies again, pulling you tight at the waist. His free hand stretched behind him, fumbling for the door handle. 

“Wanna’ find out?” He asked, breaking the kiss. 

You nodded. 

Max threw the door open, and pulled the driver’s seat up, allowing you some space to crawl in first. You leaned in — making sure your ass was on full display in the short, denim skirt you’d chosen earlier that night — and moved  quickly to the passenger side. With your knees pressing into the black, leather interior of his backseat, you sat upright, making room for him as he joined you. 

He faced you, leaning his back against the window and angled his hips towards you, knees to his chest. You stretched forward, tapped one side of his closed knees. “Lemme in, Cooperman.” 

Immediately, they fell open, exposing the bulge in his jeans. There was a dirty, devilish little smirk on his face; he knew you were looking, sizing him up. Not such a dork now, huh?

“Theory proven?” 

“Maybe. I’ve gotta’ see.” 

You palmed his half-hard cock outside of his jeans, the tips of your fingers tracing the faint outline, until they came to the tip. Applying pressure, the pad of your pointer finger swept back and forth into the squishy flesh until your finger was met with a wet spot. You’d given a fair number of handjobs in your life, enough to be confident in your skills. 

“Shit,” Max hissed above you. “Shit.” 

Underneath the fabric, you felt his dick shift in his jeans. With a pleased smirk, giving him what he so clearly wanted, you unbuttoned and unzipped, allowing his hard-on some room to breathe. The bulge pitched forward slightly as you reached for the ruched edge of his boxers, and pulled them down over his balls. His cock now free, it flopped heavily against his stomach, searing hot on his abdomen. It was about as long as you’d expected, but much thicker. With a wanton gaze, you took hold of the shaft and began stroking, feeling the veins swell with each pass. Every so often, you paid special attention to the underside, gliding your fingers over the thickest veins. Eventually, his cock stood at attention, the tip reddened and leaking profusely. You bit your lip. 

“Ooooooh, Max Cooperman has a big thick cock.” You tittered in a teasing lilt, still fondling it. He whimpered loud, a high pitched desperate sound that filled the car. You hadn’t expected him to be so whiny, but somehow you weren’t surprised — it seemed appropriate for that nerd in the schoolyard. Whiny then, whiny now. Every obscene word was punctuated with a whine, like a teenager getting his first handjob. He rutted his hips helplessly against your fingers, grinding his stiffness into your grip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, just like that - fuck.” 

Almost to shut him up, you craned forward to kiss him again, your mouths crushing together in violent desperation. After a few seconds, Max sloppily broke the kiss to look down at your hand, saliva stringing from his bottom lip to yours.

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” he breathed, watching your fingers as they stroked his swollen cock, paying special attention to the scarlet, almost purple head. His cock twitched again in your grip, expelling more precum. “Oh my fuckin’ god, holy shit, holy shit…” 

You were delighted by the position of power you were in, and even more than that, delighted by the way that Max was literally coming undone in front of you. All his acquired cockiness had melted away, replaced by the desperate dork you remembered. 

“I knew he was in there,” you whispered under your breath before giving his cock a firm grip, milking another whine from his lips. Max was too far gone to even respond logically to anything, you weren’t sure he’d even heard you over his ragged, uneven pants.  

Feeling adventurous (and perhaps cruel), you extended your tongue, flattening it against the underside of his cock. The salty pre-cum oozed onto it. Max gasped, lifting his hips upright, which forced his dick further into your mouth. You pulled back, shaking your head softly. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at his own cock, watching it as your hand drug up and down over it, working it inches from your lips. You thought he was going to lose it, but with a heavy breath, he lowered his hips again and went back to breathing unevenly.

“Please,” he begged incessantly, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. “Please lemme’ fuck you…”

“Uh-uh.” 

Max whimpered again, bumping his head against the window repeatedly like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“You can’t, Max. There isn’t enough room here.” 

“Yeaaah, baby, yeah there is. We’ll make it work.” 

You paused for a moment, surveying your surroundings. Even with the seats pushed forward, the backseat left little room for moving around, and the oddly placed hump in the center was undeniably impeding any laying down. Max’s hips were already jutted up oddly, you couldn’t picture laying down atop of it… unless….

“You wanna’ fuck me, Max? How bad you wanna’ fuck me?” You asked, already knowing the answer. 

Slack-jawed, he nodded, his curls bouncing. The collar of his shirt was a shade darker with sweat. “So bad. So fuckin’ bad, you have no idea. You can’t even fathom.” 

You thought about it. And thought about it some more, until finally, you said: “Move over.”

Obediently, Max scooted his hips up, his dick bobbing before he shifted himself onto the floor, allowing you to crawl forward, using the curve of the backseat like a sex pillow, your ass tilted up towards the now very fogged up back window. Your cunt was already warm and aching from giving him head, and with a deep breath, you imagined the wet slit that would greet him as soon as he got up behind you. 

Curious, you reached up between your legs, pressing them into the satin fabric – just as you thought. Soaked. Finding the hem of your underwear, you yanked them to the side, exposing her. Your middle finger then slipped inside, dragging some of the slick down to your clit, which you tapped, bringing the sensitivity higher. 

“Oh shit,” he gasped, seeing this erotic display that sent spikes of arousal straight to his already engorged and aching cock. Still on the floor, but now behind the passenger’s seat, Max leaned forward. Still awkwardly positioned – you silently applauded the desperation in which he did it – Max went for your cunt, bending his head at angle so that his tongue could flick out against your wet folds, getting a taste of your sweet, leaking juices. You couldn’t help but moan into the leather, clenching and shaking as he lingered there for a moment, just lapping at it, swallowing and mouth breathing heavily onto her. 

“Fuck–” He straightened up, and used the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. “You taste so good, baby.” 

You wiggled your ass in response, smiling against the seat. After a little bit of strained and clumsy maneuvering, Max was finally behind you, dick in hand. He shuffled closer, his jean-clad thighs pressing into the backs of your bare ones. Using his free hand, he glided over the curve of your ass and down your spine, as far as the jean skirt would let him. You felt the warm head bumping into her over and over again with a haphazard rhythm, strings of precum dripping down onto the seat below you  – he was jerking off into your cunt. 

“I thought you were going to fuck me.” 

“I am,” he panted. “I am… this is just too good. Fuck! I wish I had my camera.” 

After using the tip to play with your wetness for a bit longer, Max finally lined up and sunk his cock inside of you, using your hips to pull himself deeper. He bottomed out – the stretching heat burned, filling you from wall to wall as his hips began bucking instinctively, finding a carnal rhythm – you let out a low moan. You begged, wanting him to press himself as deep into you as he could.  

“Record it,” you suddenly ordered. 

“Wha-?” he choked, out of breath and still pumping himself into you. 

“Record it. You have your phone, don’t you?” You arched your back, pushing up into him. 

“You serious?” 

“Yeah, I’m serious. It’d be hot.” 

Still in awe of your lustful demand, Max reached in his back pocket and pulled his phone out. He quickly navigated to the camera app, tapped the red button, and held the phone above you, getting a wider angle. The flash was on; he pulled his thick, glistening cock out of you slowly, while his dark eyes darted back and forth between watching you and watching it on the screen. Knowing he was going to have this to later jerk it to… shit – his breath hitched in his throat. He bumped his hips into you a few times, popping the head into your cunt.

“Yeah, you like that?” 

At first, Max breathily answered, but remembering he was recording, cleared his throat and answered in a lower tone. “Fuck yeah.” 

“Oh stop,” you laughed, wiggling your hips on his cock. “Afraid to let your dorky voice out again?” 

“Shut up, I’m not a dork.” 

“Yeaaaah, yeah you are. A big dork with a big cock.” 

Much to his own dismay, Max whined, picking up speed as he hammered into you, his little desperate bunny humps rutting against your pussy, sending shockwaves through your core.  The sounds of skin slapping against skin, paired with your broken moans and Max’s pathetic, horny whines filled the car. He’d never really been one for degradation, but the way you teased him, throwing your verbal right hooks every chance you got, had him in pieces. Every time you did it, his dick twinged painfully, stiffening past the point of comfort. He took hold of it, jerking it a few times into your pussy. Making sure the camera was capturing it, Max went back to thrusting, sinking his aching cock halfway in before bottoming out again. The video would never see the light of day, you knew it. He’d have to mute it to save his ego, and what was the point of muting porn? Max was way too whiny to show his macho friends, every other thrust was accompanied by a desperate little whimper. 

“Shit, I’m gonna’ - I’m gonna’ baby, oh my god, I’m sorry I’m gonna’ – auuggh!”

With a final whimper, Max yanked his cock from your pussy, allowing his orgasm to burst out over your exposed cunt; hot, milky strings decorating your folds and ass cheeks.

Immediately after pumping the rest of his cum onto your ass, like a gentleman, Max sunk two fingers in your pussy, curling them up to masterfully find the sensitive, spongy flesh inside. So, he’d had practice, too. You took fistfuls of the seat, digging your nails into the soft, polished leather. Thankfully for him, you were close, so the way he pumped his fingers in and out of you brought you over the edge within a matter of seconds. 

With a final: “Ffffuck!!”, you clenched around his fingers, pleasure rupturing your entire core. You squeezed your eyes shut, riding out the orgasm and backing up into his fingers to increase the pressure. You heard Max hiss in a breath through his teeth as he watched you, enjoyed you, and recorded you in your most intimate moments. The thought drove your orgasm forward even further. 

As the pulses subsided, you flopped down heavily, out of breath and drenched in sweat. You pivoted your body, rolling back over onto your back. Max was still recording, absentmindedly playing with your still weeping cunt. You watched him with a smile, entertained and enamoured that he was so invested with you. With a little dinging sound, the recording finally ended, and he tucked the phone back into his pocket. 

You two sat in silence, breathing heavily until, in a moment of post-nut clarity, Max said: “Shit, I was supposed to spar with Matt.” 

“Who?” You couldn’t care less. 

“Uh, my friend.”

“Mm, well… Matt is just gonna’ have to take a rain check. That’s too bad.” 

He laughed, leaning his head against the window again. After a few moments, he spoke again, his voice soft and low.  

“So, your theory is true, huh?” 

“Oh, yeah. It’s true. Took me years to prove it, but… it’s definitely true.” You leaned up and ran your pointer finger along the inseam of his jeans, smirking to yourself. “Definitely true.”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser /

Ask to be added to taglist for future fics!!

#Max Cooperman #Max Cooperman x reader #Max Cooperman x you #Never Back Down 2 #myfics

[sophiaforevs]

Between the early cancellation of Discovery, Seven/Raffi and Mariner/Jenn being erased in their respective shows, and SNW having queer coded characters but not confirming anything on screen, I'm really afraid that we're entering another "No Gays in Trek" era.

For those who don't know, 90s era star trek featured so few queer characters b/c Rick Berman largely held a policy of not wanting any homosexuality in his shows. And yes, we all remember the handful of episodes that slipped through that addressed it but the fact remains that there were no canonically queer main cast members before Into Darkness in 2016 gave us a five second shot that could be cut when whoever was showing the movie found the idea of two men in a loving relationship disgusting.

Then we got Discovery with multiple queer characters that allowed people to feel seen. And people never stopped bitching about them. The amount of times that I've had to listen to people complain that Adira's only character trait is that they're non-binary despite that literally being a single thirty second scene and never brought up again makes me understand that they very likely don't want to like the queer characters in that show. And it's not that there aren't criticisms to be made about the queer representation in Disco: Discovery Buries it's Gays before the end of the first season. Making your trans characters aliens who already have a history of gender fuckery is problematic b/c it somewhat plays into the idea that queerness is unnatural for human beings. But I never hear those complaints. Only the pronouns. Only the "We get it you're gay but don't shove it down our throats." But I don't want to get too off topic.

Now Discovery is being canceled early. And by early I mean, the writers weren't given proper notice that their show was ending. They were halfway through production and allowed to adjust the end episodes of the season to try to give a satisfying ending.

In Picard and Lower Decks, we got two sapphic relationships ("sapphic" meaning a romantic or sexual relationship between two women who aren't necessarily strictly lesbians) and they were pretty good. People had been asking for Seven to be queer and Jeri Ryan had been playing her as such since her introduction (see again: Rick Berman) and to see her finally get to express that was really healing. Mariner got off to rocky feet when the creators tried to pull a "Dumbledore is gay" where they said she was bi but didn't commit to it, but they she actually got a fairly satisfying relationship in season 3.

But in their most recent seasons, both were completely written out. Seven/Raffi gave us no explanation beyond that they "broke up." They went out of their way to keep them from being on screen together for most of the season. Mattis said in a Reddit AMA that he wanted Seven to be captain and Raffi to be first officer at the end of the season and that Starfleet would have regulations against relationships between the two despite the biggest reason Seven was promoted to captain was that she was a rule breaker. We didn't even get that much for Mariner/Jennifer. Jenn just wasn't in this season except for two background appearances.

And in Strange New Worlds there's just… nothing. SNW is the most recent new show and there's no queer representation. They code Ortegas as gay but don't actually confirm it on screen. There's just… nothing.

And this is how you loose the culture war. The bigots make enough noise that the show that is supposed to be a beacon of diversity doesn't necessarily side with them but they just kinda bow out of the conversation. They decide that it's easier to not bother than to take a stand. And so I and many many queer star trek fans are left wondering:

Does the franchise even want us any more?

#Star Trek #Prick Berman #No Gays In Trek #Disillusionment Trek

[drakeanddice]

Finished the season of Mausritter last night. Everyone survived the Battle of Big Stump, but we lost some allies along the way. The Last Chancers (the old glory-hound regiment from Fox Cross) were wiped out almost to a mouse. The AutoMice leader and command structure was taken prisoner for later experimentation by the City Mice. The walls of Big Stump were burnt to a near ruin and the spirit of the Stump (a strange fey abomination sealed away in the dead tree) is stirring. Worse, Fennel's plan to assassinate the Cat Queen Azura did not come to fruition; his poisoned arrow hit, but failed to affect her to the extent that was planned and the follow up shot posed a difficult choice. "Whoever you shoot next will die. Do you kill the Cat Queen or the Marauder Rat?" And Fennel decided that it was better to assure the end of Clooney Splitjaw. So down he went.

We got a neat medals at the end of Star Wars scene following the battle with the assembled survivors of the army that the Wayfinders led to victory. Azura leaned in to each in turn as she settled medals over their necks.

"Birch, valorous marshal and captain by blood and toil of the battlefield, wear your rank with pride. We name you First Sword of the Stump. May tales of your valiant heart echo, and may we requite your love one hundred fold."

"Bindi, flame of innovation, burning when all hope fades. We have seen your leadership among those with no stomach to fight. Urchins became an army. The gates burnt but never fell. We name you Firebrand. What is burnt may sprout anew. May we never forget."

"Fennel. Archer, rootwalker. The next time you draw a treacherous shaft, steady your hand, and DO. NOT. MISS."

Smash cut to credits.

Next week we decide on whether to switch over to Beyond the Wall or Slugblaster for our between seasons interlude. Either way, it's going to be weird teens getting into situations and I'm stoked.

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg stuff #ttrpg #osr #mausritter #on to the next one

[saphirered]

a winter's ball with vax'ildan, maybe? only if you have time

When I read this one, I immediately got inspired. Hope it turned out well! 😘

Wining and dining was never really his style. Vax’ildan prefers the shadows over the shimmer and shine of these ostentatious events. It’s a thing he could do without but with Vox Machina’s rise in reputation so came obligations. It’s not every day the Sovereign invites you and your friends to attend some posh party and while he might want to forget, his sister and her boyfriend-he means friend- have not neglected to remind him this is not something he can get out of. At least there’ll be an open bar and as long as he sticks with the likes of Scanlan and Grog, he’s in for an eventful night to be sure. Even if everyone has been threatened urged to be on their best behaviour, he is used at being a shadow in the crowds. He’ll be fine. It’ll be hell but he’ll be fine. So here he stands dressed in his best, listening to the chatter and whining of the nobility of Tal’dorei. Plenty of gossip and slander and he has to admit his fingers do twitch when he sees some of the blatantly disregarded riches people put on display. It’s like they want to be robbed. Wait… That man was wearing three rings just a second ago. There’s two now. He searches the crowd. Nothing out of the ordinary. At least to the untrained eye. He recognises a pattern of movement, someone making their way across the room, to be as far away from the scene of the crime as possible, not like the rich prick will notice the ring missing in the first place but better safe than sorry he supposes. Whoever you are, you’re good. Just not good enough. And since Grog’s been cut off from the open bar and Scanlan has already has found some privacy, it’s not like he’s got anything better to do. 

On your trail, he realises he was incorrect when he assumed you were getting away from the crime scene. Instead you are making a clean sweep, mingling with groups, inserting yourself into conversation. He’d have lost you completely had he not seen you change you appearance behind a pillar. He almost did lose you several times but there’s something distinct in your behaviour, a tell that he knows all too well, and one he’s guilt of himself. Though, when he gets close enough, your voice, it sounds familiar. He can’t quite place it. He gets closer but doesn’t quite join the same conversation you’d slid into. He listens to you, watches your every movement. You’d taken on the appearance of a tiefling, horns and orange eyes and all. Attire displayed more Marquisian. You lay it on thick, flattery, compliments, charms and don’t neglect the occasional flirt to really sell it. 

“My my, that ring of yours, it is a gorgeous piece!” You gasp as one of the ladies not so subtilely brushes the rubies around her neck. Obviously she was looking for a way to insert the ostentatious diamonds into this conversation and was failing. That faint glint in your eye right before you spoke, the one that’s akin to focussing on a target, that’s your tell. Everyone has one after all. 

“It ought to be. It was a gift from J’mon Sa Ord themself!” The lady already stretches her arm out towards you, to give you a look up close. Vax watches as you daintily reach out to take the woman’s hand and let the ring hit the light perfectly. 

“Such a high honour, my lady. A gift befitting a queen one could say. You simply must share the story behind it.” As she retracts her hand what the woman does not notice; you unclasped one of the bracelets on her arm, let it drop into your palm, the one that clasped under her hand, and sweep it away as she goes into the extensive story, having all those around oohing and aaahing. In the mean time you grow quieter and quieter until the focus is entirely away from you. You bend out, and make for the nearest alcove. Vax watches you brush along your clothes and then let your hands fall to your sides, bracelet nowhere to be seen. That’s when he decides to make his move. 

A job well done. You got plenty of loot from your little scavenger hunt, no one any the wiser. Tonight was a fruitful night. Who knew the desperate for attention and admiration were still granted plus one to such an event with a tight invite list. Just your luck you make a good actor and have no obligations to sweet-talking yourself into this spot. Such a shame though, the event is so large with so many attendants, it’s easy to get lost and lose sight of your escort. It’s unlikely you’ll meet again, or rather, your escort will meet you again. You’d not be so stupid to wear your own face on such an adventure. Nothing a little magic couldn’t fix. Not all deals made are bad ones and you surely reaped the benefits of this one. Time to leave. Stay close to the dance floor, make it to the balcony and off you go. It’s like stealing candy from a very rich baby. Another change of face; a half elf this time, with a tiered ruffle skirt. It seemed suitable, and just slightly big enough to keep at bay some of the suitors waiting for a dance partner of their choosing. You turn down the others, claiming exhaustion, already being spoken for, and so on. 

“Would you like to dance?” Your breath catches. You know that voice, and seeing the half-elf to your side, you are not mistaken. Shock must have spread across your face but you recover quickly. He looks as handsome as you last saw him, though the outfit is not very him. Vax. Your heart aches 

“I’m afraid my dance card is full, good sir.” You reply and sound a little more breezy than you intended. You have to get out. This is no place for a confrontation. Vax only takes one look at you and knows every single instinct on the verge of kicking in, so instead he simply takes your arm and pulls you into the ongoing dance. It’s a good thing you’re both quick on your feet or you might have sprawled across the floor unable to avoid the other couples in their routines. You want to say something, protest or just get out but He’s guided you along to a place where doing that inconspicuous would be very difficult, even for you. Bastard. You put on a smile and play the part of a whimsical lady who belongs here. 

“What brings you here, Miss?” You want to snort at his all too innocent question and playing into your act. He’s learned quite well. Then again, he always had charm, though, his sister will always be the more persuasive one. 

“Oh, I’m here with the Lord Waters. My uncle was kind enough to send me along to familiarise myself with the court here! And you, good sir? What brings you to this marvellous event?” You want to gag. You feel his hand burning against the small of your back, know he can feel through the illusion, feel the dagger you’ve got holstered there. His fingers of the other hand have clasped with yours, the fingerless gloves must have been a nice surprise as opposed to the dainty satin it appears to be. 

“Me and my companions were invited.” Damn it. You should have taken a better peak at that guest list when you had the chance. Of course Vox Machina would be in attendance. You’d have made better efforts to avoid them. Not that you’re not enjoying this encounter. In an odd way it feels good to be here, back in Vax’ arms. You’ve got plenty of memories like these. Though few include being in a palace like this. It feels good even if you’ve been made and should probably make an effort to get out now. 

You must be very important then. Excuse me for not knowing-“ You keep playing the game and Vax almost starts doubting himself. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he missed you in the crowd and is confusing you for this innocent half-elf but then you cast your eyes to the closest balcony. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’ll pass it and he wonders if you plan on making your escape then, slide away without another word. 

“Vox Machina. Heroes of Tal’dorei some say, though it’s a bit pretentious if you ask me.” He speaks earnestly. And then your window of opportunity approaches. 

“I’m afraid my feet have grown quite tired. It was lovely dancing with you, Hero of Tal’dorei.” You make to push away from him and he lets you go. What you don’t notice is that he’s just as good as you and in your distraction of getting away, you miss him removing that dagger from your belt. Your head’s turned when he swiftly slides it up his sleeve and follows after you, through the crowd. 

You break for the balcony, moving through the crowd gently until you reach the doors and slide through unnoticed. There’s no one else. It’s freezing cold after all. Big change from the warm interior and leaves you shivering just a little as your body adjusts. You look around the ledge; bushes below lead into the gardens. A drainpipe goes down to one side but looks rather shaky. Though his balcony is supported by pillars and happen to have decent foothold, even if a layer of frost covers the ground below. You’ll have to be careful still but you could not call yourself a master thief if you were thwarted by some ice. You pick a nice spot and sit on the railing, reach for your- it’s gone. You frantically look around, as if it might have dropped on the stone here somewhere. Then the door opens and through slides that damned half-elf, holding your dagger between his fingers. 

“Looking for this?” Cocky as you know him to be when successfully stealing something. “You can drop the act now.” You roll your eyes as you jump back to your feet and meet him in the middle of the balcony. He lets you take the dagger without a fuss and you quickly put it back in its sheath dropping your disguise. He wasn’t prepared. Vax didn’t think you’d actually drop your disguise, that he’d be facing you now. With your urgency to get out he had assumed you might have been running from your past, from him but you’re not. You’re standing here and don’t make a dive for your escape. You cross your arms. 

“You’re a bastard, and you know it.” You snicker. Despite the freezing cold the sound warms him from the inside. It’s been far too long since he’s heard that sound, heard you. You take another step closer. Your breath shows upon the cold air as you look him in the eyes. You tilt your head slightly, lips parting and begin to lean in. You bring a hand to his chest, let the other brush along his cheek, along his pointed ear until you guide his face to yours, as if you’re going to kiss him. But then he feels a pull and his hair falls free out of the tie he’d been persuaded to keep it in. You step back laughing and lift yourself onto the balcony ledge. He crosses the distance as you play with the tie. 

“Is it really that easy?” He laughs at your antics. It’s like you never parted, like not a moment has passed since your last goodbye even though it has been years. He was a scavenging thief with an annoying sister back then. He’s an adventurer now, still with an annoying sister though. You were a runner for a local guild. What have you become? You bear no seal, now sigil and you seem wholly unburdened. You wink at him. 

“It can be.” You swing your legs over, and stand on the small ridge. You quickly peck his lips and leave the half-elf in shock, short of a response. “Pick a place. Tomorrow. Lunch. My treat.” You play with a gold necklace between your fingers but before you’re about to jump off the shock has vanished and Vax feels in control of himself once more. He cups your cheeks. 

“I’ve missed you.” He breathes as his brain is trying to wrap his head around all of this. You’re here. You actually want to see him and as it looks like now you’ve no objections to picking up where things left off. What in the world is happening? 

“Missed you too.” Genuine words. Gently he presses his lips to yours, awaiting any response of objection but you move them against his, wrap your arms around his neck and deepens the kiss. The cold breeze cuts at his skin, his fancy clothes doing little to keep it at bay as opposed to your attire, clearly suitable for the weather and your objective for the evening, though he cares little when he holds onto you, when he feels your fingers brush against his skin and spark a fire to keep him warm, however short-lived this kiss may be. He pulls away, reminded you are on a job and he’d be a terrible partner in crime if he did not look out for you. Your hum in disappointment almost makes him forget about that. 

“There’ll be a guard patrol coming in two minutes. You’ll want to be past the fountains by then. The roses to the right will give enough cover.” Vax gives you the run down and you nod. With a final peck you push off the ledge and he runs to the edge to see you grab onto the pillar, and slide down. When he does he feels something in his breast pocket. It’s the gold bracelet. You blow him a kiss when you hit the ground before you turn on your heels and make a sprint for the roses quite a ways a way. You’re lucky you’re fast. With a longing sigh he watches you go. Lunch it is. 

#critical role x reader #vax’ildan x reader #vax x reader #vox machina x reader #legend of vox machina #tlovm x reader #vax'ildan #critical role fanfiction #critical role fanfic #critical role #vox machina

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday Evening Fandom :) This will be my new schedule Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. So I can get all the remaining eps in before the premiere. Should finish the week before we get to squee over a new season. So you'll have one more extra a week till we reach S6.

Some fun UC stuff for them to do in this one and the ever famous scene in the van. The marriage moments in this one continue. Off we go.

4x07 Fire Fight

We start off with our couple bringing someone in to book. She ran a stop sign AND a red light. Then flipped them off and made them chase her. Then has the audacity to ask why they arrested her? LOL My god...She tells them she was late for her life coach session. Tim makes a crack that her coach is doing a terrible job haha The sass Timothy I'm here for it.

As she gets processed Lucy brings up the bet from the previous episode. Tim retorting ‘The bet I won?’ Lucy fires right back that she won it. Their banter is unrivaled I love it so much. Tim telling her he had the gold in his hand. Lucy defending only because she had to arrest an armed gunmen. Tim tries to take the glory for this as well. That he technically arrested him. You know with his arm.

Lucy scoffing saying all he did was extend his arm out. Flirt nation right off the bat in this one. You know she’s actually impressed by it but can’t let his ego know that fact. Tim is trying to impress her by saying this. My goodness these two. It is very impressive he did that and wants her to know it. They're entering into the bantery foreplay early in this one.

Poor Grey gets dragged into their work flirt I mean fight. Tim really shouldn’t have been shocked at all when Grey said he suspected in 5x12. Man has been front row to this flirt fest for years . When he said that I think he meant long before that moment. He knew for a VERY long time. Poor Wade he just wants to get his job done. He wandered into booking thinking he could get in and out. Then in come Tim and Lucy to drag him into their fight LMAO

They're trying to get him to settle their bet from 4x06. They’re so damn competitive neither can settle for a tie. Grey affirms he thought it was as such. This was not the answer either of them wanted. Tim wants a rematch because of course he does. Lucy is adorable and says they should do an escape room LOL She had to know that wasn’t going to fly. Tim says no to that naturally. His reaction is hilarious.

So off put by the idea of being stuck in one. Decides they need a neutral party to decide their next competition. I love how in-sync they are when they turn to Grey. Same brain and same body language. Look how they mirror each other it's crazy. Sure Wade is thinking my god just find a room already. Instead he catches onto what they want. The way they both nod is so well timed they’re ridiculous and I love it sfm. Chemistry is unreal. Hats off to Eric and Melissa.

Grey agrees to this if only to get them to leave him the hell alone heh. He assigns them random penal codes. Says whoever gets their arrest first wins. Lucy could not be cuter waiting for hers. Tim gets his and isn’t pleased with it. Lucy is shocked he even knows what his is. Since its obscure as hell. Tim is fresh af with her replying 'She didn’t?' Ha her reaction. My god the punches just don’t get pulled with these two.

Tim says it’s unfair. SMH Oh Timothy pouting isn’t gonna work with Grey. He tells him life isn’t fair. Lucy is beaming about this. I love these two ridiculous fools so much. The woman they brought in is done with booking. She clearly doesn’t want to go into a cell. Tells them she know’s about a real crime. Says if she tells them she can cut a deal? Tim replies ‘What’s the crime?’

We return to them heading into interrogation. Lucy hands him a list of places they should go when they’re back out. Tim hands it right back without looking. Knowing exactly why she wants to hit those places. So she can win their bet. Doesn't hesitate as he calls her out on it. Lucy fires right back saying she knows he went to Nell. These two are so amazingly absurd.

Doing whatever they can to win this bloody bet of theirs. Lucy doesn’t let him get away with it for more than two seconds. She has your number Timothy. Always has always will. Her wifey 'Mmm' is everything. So he admits to giving Nell Dodger tickets haha Lucy looks like she wants to smack him. Also she can’t fault him she’s trying to play dirty too. You two competitive dopes are meant to be. I can only imagine how they would be in S6 with a competition.

Even though they’re battling he still holds the door open for her to interrogation. My heart. Ever the gentleman. They’re following up on the tip they were given earlier. The woman they’ve pulled in for questioning is in regards to her new skin care line. She confuses Tim right off the bat. He can't even process what she is saying so he turns to Lucy to decipher it for him.

Classic husband move to turn right to Lucy for the answer. It's so cute. She’s like later haha That it’s not important right now. She will explain later. So married looking to his wife for answers. Gotta love it. They were given a jar of her skin care. They tested it based on their tip and it has endangered tiger blood in it.

She doesn’t even deny it. Like she is proud of the fact her stuff has it. Lucy tells her she could end up in jail for up to 5 years for this. The cockiness disappears. Then the cycle of giving one another up continues. She panics and tells them about someone named Sloan. That she’s selling psychedelics as vitamins. Tim sighs deeply and asks for this woman’s last name for them to follow up.

They have round 2 in interrogation. Tim was already annoyed going into this LMAO He asks Sloan to take her sunglasses off. She complains the fluorescent lights give her headaches. Tim informs her that is the least of her problems. That they’ve been informed about her “vitamins” Sloan poorly defends herself and says she’s just using her husband’s prescription pad. That it’s ok…Oh my lord. It so is not.

Tim goes off his patience wearing very thin. Tells her this makes her a drug dealer. A high level one at that. She could be facing 20 years in federal prison for it. Sloan starts to stutter and panic. Saying how this has gotten horribly out of hand. Then asks how ratted her out? They don’t say. Then she mentions someone named Aston. That she has to be the one ratting her out. So she turns on her continuing the blame game cycle.

She tells them Aston is trying to hire a hitman. That her husband is worth more dead than alive. She’s been on the dark web trying to get it done. The reactions above are the best part. Tim was so very done going into this. This just made it so much worse. I love the shared look. Lucy is trying not to laugh at this situation. Looking at Tim to ground her. The way they check in with each other gives me all the feels. They’re both flabbergasted by the ring of ridiculousness they’ve been dragged into.

Cue to the infamous van scene. Tim rolls up not expecting the flack he gets. Lucy is on him immediately. Seriously judging his choice in disguise. How he looks like himself and not the hitman she was picturing at all. Lucy is truly is the teacher in this moment and schools him so hard about his choice. You know she’s enjoying bossing him around. The way she tells him to get into the van is too funny. Waving his ass in. Ready to teach him a Lucy Lesson. Heh

It’s fun to watch her be the more knowledgeable of the two in an OP. Tim fights her the minute they sit down. Lucy sighs and presses on. Schooling her man on UC and what they're trying to accomplish today. He is biting back a smile at her logical teasing. Look him above. He WANTS to be annoyed but he isn't really. Once again impressed by her confidence and knowledge on this. So he acts annoyed because he has a fake bravado to protect and all that.

She continues on with more irrefutable logic. He's looking at this wrong. They're not there to dupe a seasoned criminal. That he’s fooling someone who gets her ideas from Lifetime movies. LMFAO Where is the lie? Tim can’t fault her logic even though he wishes she was wrong. Lucy shoves the jacket at Tim tells him to put it on. (Bosses his ass around I love it sfm. He kinda does too.) He begrudgingly snatches it from her to put on and she thanks him.

Let’s not skate past the fact she is checking him out long before she is putting that mic on him above. As he is putting on that jacket she is doing an elevator gaze of her own. She does a double take of him really. Swallows hard too like she's pushing down her desire in this moment. As subtle as a hammer Lucy. Tim commenting he looks like an idiot. That he would pull himself over. haha Lucy definitely does not agree. She begs to differ quite a bit. Lucy bounces back and says he looks exactly as he should. She is holding firm refusing to let his sass sway her or break her confidence. How far we've come.

Then comes the wonderful shameless eye sex. The brazen UST look that could ignite that van on fire. Lucy's reaction is how I would react. She can clearly see how fit he is. She knew but had never seen the glorious proof up close. You can tell she finds him so very attractive. I mean look at him. Gah beautifully toned chest and abs. Delicious pecs to go with that sculpted chest. Phew lord. Pass the ice water please.

She’s trying not to just stare at his toned chest but has to in order to mic him up. She’s touching him and doesn’t know how to handle it. Shoving his shirt up even higher than needed without realizing it. It's up to his neck. Tim broke her brain haha The awkward glances up crack me up. She’s trying not to make eye contact but also not just stare at his beautiful body either. Rock and a hard place Lucy. Gah we need more shirtless Tim in S6. You hear me writers? I need MORE LOL

Tim isn’t exactly helping with his matching intense gaze. He doesn’t break eye contact with her except to look down at where she is placing it. Tim is flirting right back with his own thirsty gaze. He can feel how electrically charged this moment is. Feeling very aware of her gaze and returning it in kind. They're feeding off each other 100% right now.

Tim is the first to come back to his senses just like in 4x01. So he chastises her for putting the mic too high. It breaks Lucy’s lusty gaze and fog she was in. Annoyed he’s done as such she is not kind in removing the tape. Like at all LOL Lucy tells him she knows what she’s doing right before she rips it off. His reaction is so damn funny I’m dying. Lucy is very pleased with herself. The raw UST is prominent throughout the entire season its so good. Just mounts a little more each ep.

Lucy apologizes for ripping it off and sends him off. You know she is going to enjoy being the voice in his ear. Watching him do UC from the van as she observes. Aston isn’t being explicit enough. Too busy checking Tim out and hitting on him. I mean can’t blame the woman. He looks fine as hell. Lucy is laughing in his ear floored by this women’s forwardness.

She is getting a kick out of this woman blatantly hitting on him. Asking if this woman is touching him? If she is then if she offers money for sex she’ll win the bet LOL Oh Lucy so one track minded I’m dying. It’s what prompts Tim’s response above and Lucy’s excitement bout it. Tim finally gets her to confess with details once she thinks she has a shot with him ha. Using his good looks to close this case. Fantastic.

Afterwards they come to visit Nolan in the hospital. He survived a mad man apparently. Sheer luck I think but survived nonetheless. This is their married moment of the ep. Also Tall/Smol shots that I enjoy so much. Tim gives her crap for buying out the entire gift store. Lucy says he’s been in hospital before. He knows how boring it can be. She then asks what he got for Nolan?

Hahah oh sweet Lucy. Did you really think Tim would spend money on Nolan of all people? He tells her no…but he’ll just put his name on her gift ahaha I can see in future when they’re giving out gifts as a couple they'd be the same. People will be thanking them and Tim will have no idea what she bought for them. Just go along with it.

Lucy is shocked but not shocked by his behavior. Saying 'Unbelievable' Like really she shouldn’t expect anything less. Also this is totally normal giving a shared gift like this. Nothing married at all about this behavior whatsoever....Super platonic.

Lucy brings up the bet one last time. Tim says her first name (be still my heart) saying he wants to call it a draw. That police work is too important to turn into a game. Lucy prods him saying he only wants to call it because he might lose. Tim says sure if that’s what she needs to hear. He will go with that. She asks him when he became the noble one? Tim just asks if that means they’re square on their bet? Lucy agrees no one wins but says he can’t have his name on her basket hahaha Tim rolls his eyes but follows after her anyway.

I think Tim was worried if they continued with the bet their next 'van moment' could escalate. Tim may not be aware of a lot with Lucy in terms of being in love with her yet. But he is VERY aware of his attraction to her. That hug in 4x01 was blatant proof of it. That their competitive nature is flirt fueled. So cutting this one off at the knees extinguishes that. It's why he was so quick to end it. Avoidance is the name of the game for him now. So he let Lucy have whatever terms of surrender she wanted. Including knocking his name off that basket and saying it was cause he didn't want to lose. He knows they are on thin ice and trying to keep them from falling in.

~~~

Side notes- Non Chenford.

Poor Wesley in Elijah’s tangled web. Grey trying to give him an out. A mistake that is going to haunt and follow them for a long time to come.

Nolan had a SL but I didn’t care till Chenford came to give him a gift lmao

Thank you thank you to all who like, comment and reblog these. You all make my day you have no idea. Shall see you Wednesday with 4x08 :)

#Caitlin Rewatches The Rookie #chenford #chenford hiatus #waiting on s6 #winter rewatch #s4 #4x07 Fire Fight #the rookie 4x07 #otp: doing my job #otp: you know me so well. too well. #otp: some things matter more. #otp: you did good #tim x lucy #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #the rookie #eric winter #melissa o'neil #tim bradford x lucy chen

[meguwumibear]

yakuza!shouto x reader writing warm up

you fucked up.

badly.

broke into the wrong place at the worst time.

in your defense, you've been casing the joint for hours. it was supposed to be empty. how the hell were you supposed to know it was anything but?

the scene before you is gruesome. the body on the floor still warm. and the killers? yeah, they're staring straight at your dumb fucking ass.

you just had to choose this fucking house to break into. didn't you? what shitty fucking luck—not that you've ever been on particularly good terms with the lady. besides, you're really a horrible thief. too loud. too clumsy. probably should've gone into construction instead.

you're fast at least. from all these years of running. you're good at creating space, at keeping a distance between yourself and others. thank fuck for that because if your speed fails you now you are most certainly going to eat a bullet for dinner.

maybe a bullet wouldn't be so bad actually. you've had worse things to eat. what kind of metals are in bullets anyway? your anemic ass could certainly use some iron.

focus.

there's a car running in the driveway. likely an escape vehicle which means it would be an absolutely stupid thing to steal. the assholes are probably tracking it somehow. hitmen do shit like that, right? they keep close watch on their property?

the footsteps behind you are close. way too close for comfort.

fuck it. whatever. gambling's never been your vice, but it's probably worth the risk. you'll just hightail it out of here and ditch the car the moment you get the chance.

the driver's side door swings open when you pull at the handle.

idiots. who forgets to lock their fucking getaway car?

no matter. you're not one to look gift stupidity in the mouth. those morons can eat your fucking dust.

you throw the car in reverse and slam your foot on the pedal just as two hulking forms come into view. they have their weapons raised, poised to shoot.

tires screech on gravel as you tear down the driveway. you keep your head low in case your pursuers decide to empty their entire magazine into the back seat in a last ditch effort to kill you.

the rain of bullets never comes.

odd.

they probably could've hit you. is the car you're in worth so much they wouldn't risk dinging it?

the moment you hit the city you pull the car into a narrow alleyway and shift gears into park.

the night is too quiet and still. it does nothing to keep your mind off of your rabbiting heart. the stupid fucking thing is beating so fast you're certain you're setting some sort of world record.

you take a long deep breath in to steady yourself, relaxing your grip on the wheel.

"i'd torch the thing if i were you," comes a voice from the backseat. "you're dead if they find even a trace of something that could lead them to you."

that rabbiting heart of yours? yeah, it near about stops. you can barely find the courage to turn to meet the eyes of whoever the fuck you just took for a joyride.

the man is beautiful in a way that cuts like a knife. lean build. smooth skin...well mostly smooth anyway. there's what looks like a long since healed burn around his left eye.

the man also has a gun in his hand. he's not pointing it at you. he's not even fucking looking at you. he has his elbow propped on the window and his head resting in his hand.

yeah, you are so totally screwed.

"arson's not really my thing, but thanks for the tip," you reply, throwing open the door. it hits the brick wall of the alley with a dull thud.

you wince at the impact, wondering how much it costs to buff that kind of dent out of a car like this.

you chance a glance behind you, and the man is looking at you now, red eyebrows raised in amusement.

fuck.

motherfucker's toying with you.

there isn't a large enough gap for you to wriggle out of the car, and you don't have the strength to yank the door closed again now that you've so dimwittedly sandwiched it into the wall.

the asshole in the back's just watching you. he seems curious what you'll do next.

psh, as if the solution isn't obvious.

you start the car, moving the gear stick into drive, and slowly scrape your way down the alleyway, aiming for the entrance.

"bit conspicuous, don't you think?"

"shut up," you spit, stopping the car nonetheless. "like you could come up with anything better."

a lazy smile touches the corner of his lips.

"i'd never get myself into such a predicament. i would have-" the man is cut off by a buzzing in his pocket.

holy shit he has a phone on him?!

"do you mind?" he asks, answering the call anyway. "i kind of need to take this."

#shouto x reader #shouto x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x you #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x you #mha x reader #mha x you

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

I Wrote Another Thing!

For people who follow Some Things Are Meant to Be on AO3 first of all, I am so, so sorry for how slowly I've been updating. Life has hit me pretty hard and on top of that I have writer's block on how I want to continue the main story.

Second, I have been working on a companion piece that is a prequel written from both Elvis and the reader's perspectives as they navigate the lives they lead before they finally meet in early 1973. The first chapter is up on AO3 now and I can link it here:

Before You - ooihcnoiwlerh - Elvis (Movie 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

I've also fallen into the rabbit hole of Pinterest boards and have made one for the first chapter that I'll link here: (1) Pinterest.

For those who want sneak preview, I'll post tidbits below the cut:

People like to say that you're too big for your britches.  People see a scrappy kid in her sister's secondhand hand-me-downs and think it's sometimes cute and funny, sometimes exasperating how stubborn and competitive you can be.  It gets you in trouble early on; grown ups and other kids alike quick to remind you of your place.

You never listen for long.

You have a few early memories of your mother taking you into work with her a couple of times a week because you’re too young for school like your older siblings and she tells you to not bother anyone or cause a scene while she rolls out and laminates dough and makes and pipes filling.

You don’t bother anyone or cause a scene as far as you’re concerned, but you quickly lose interest in seeing your mother at work and wander off briefly which results in a thorough spanking.  You don’t get why it’s so wrong for you to want to see new places or leave your little bubble, especially when no one seems to have time for you anyway.

All things considered, it could be worse.  The two-bedroom, one-bathroom row house with paper thin walls, warped floors, and occasional faulty wiring is better than no home at all and your parents know how to shop and cook economically enough to make a grocery budget stretched to its limit feel like plenty.  It’s also not like the kids at your school have it much better and can mock you for being poor when a good chunk of them are too.  While you doubt you’ll ever develop the same love for cooking as your parents, you do like being “the little helper” in the kitchen when your siblings outgrow that title (even if your mother has more than one use for a wooden spoon that can put the fear of God in you if you cross her.)  A few of your classmates and neighborhood kids make fun of you but you still make at least a few friends.   And while they find you annoying, your older siblings still love you, even if that love sometimes feels like that baffled fondness one feels for a yappy terrier trying to sidle up to a Rottweiler.  

And for nearly as long as you can remember you love movies and big billboards with people whose names you’ve never heard splashed across them.  You coax whichever older sibling is most likely to give in to take you to all the movies and disappear, for the brief time you’re watching the screen.  You’re not little Y/F/N Y/L/N, the tagalong youngest of four with nothing to your name and no one to listen to you; you’re whoever you want to be, sharing in the adventures you see in each movie.  And someday you’ll be in those movies, and be that person for another lonely and frustrated child who wants to escape.

At first you decide you want to be an actress.  After all, for a child there’s little else you really understand that goes into making a movie.

“That’s what I’m gonna do,” you announce to your parents and of course they think you're being ridiculous.  They also can't afford to fund your little fantasy even if they wanted to.

But there are school plays and musicals you try out for and get into.  You find that you have a perfectly fine singing voice and an aptitude for matching pitch.  It doesn't take you too long to learn choreography or lines.

It's fun, and you get the impression that you have some moderate talent for it.

But you start to realize that you’re not amazing.  You’re not sure why some part of you was hoping you’d be some kind of prodigy, but you’re definitely not.  And that’s fine; it’s been said that success is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration, but you also don’t love it.  You don’t feel the same thrill that you hear real actors do onstage.  You don’t transform into your character or become this larger-than-life persona like the stars and starlets you see onscreen.  You’re still little Y/F/N Y/L/N, just in grease paint and a costume giving a “solid, even charming” performance.

Funny thing, you don’t then lose interest or decide that show business isn’t for you, after all when you come to that realization.  You just wonder what it is you should be doing if not acting.

You’re not that interested in lighting or set building.  The technical aspects of filmmaking interest you to some extent, but what fascinates you is how it all comes together.

"Maybe directing, then?” a friend who still humors you tells you after rehearsal and before you have to go home.

“Maybe.”  The next time you go to the movies, you pay attention to the credits and all the different job titles.  You’ve matured enough to understand a lot more goes into making a movie than the people onscreen and so mentally pick through and notice “A Cecil B. DeMille Production” and “Produced and Directed by Cecil B. DeMille.”

What does a producer do, exactly? you wonder, and after a bit of digging you find out.  A producer oversees the entire picture as a whole and promotes it so that audiences actually come to see it.  They're the ones pushing them during awards season.  And that…sounds perfect.  You help bring the entire thing together, as it were, and you realize that was what you wanted all along.

"I think you stand a better shot at being an actress," people tell you when you explain your new career plans.

It's a man's world, of course.  And men entirely different from any that you've met.  And yet, somehow, it never really occurs to you that your dreams are impossible.  

You never stop believing that you'll be able to do anything you put your mind to.  At times that belief is all you really have.

...........................

Everything changes again one night right when Elvis is twenty, when they get the chance to perform for KWKH station’s Louisiana Hayride. 

It’s certainly the largest crowd they’ve played so far, the farthest they’ve ventured out.  It’s the first time anyone’s going to record them live, and that’s the part that terrifies him the most.  He pictures himself freezing, forgetting all the lyrics, and who knows, maybe simultaneously throwing up and pissing himself onstage before being booed into oblivion.  Scotty and Bill try to talk him down.  Dixie, sweet Dixie, who’s two years his junior and who he’s pretty sure he’s going to propose to after the end of her senior year, offers him a soda that he can’t drink because his stomach’s already foaming like it has rabies.

Twenty-six different states all listening in.  It’s too much.  He gets the sweats and the shakes performing in front of tiny crowds at clubs for almost zero money.

“What if I forget the words on live radio?” he asks.

He calms down enough, encircled by Scotty and Bill, by Dixie, by his parents, to steel his resolve once they’re called to the stage.

He’s still shaking like a leaf, feeling nauseous and sweaty as he barely registers Lorace Hogan’s words as he introduces himself and isn’t entirely sure what’s spilling out of his mouth as he tries to thank everyone and introduce the song and then…silence.  Elvis can sense Bill and Scotty getting nervous behind him as he can’t quite get the sound out, as he freezes.  A guy around his age in the audience calls him a fairy and tells him to get a haircut.

And while, for some reason, he was terrified of this very thing, the sudden noise is what spurs him on.  It shocks him into clarity.  That’s the worst of it, then: some stranger spouting nothing he hasn’t already heard before.  He can just move on and do the song.  He takes a deep breath, and he lets loose.

It’s a fun song; Elvis likes the bouncy rhythm of it and playful tone and finds it comfortable in his range.  He thinks that he and the guys play it pretty well.

What he doesn’t expect is for the amount of girls and women in the audience to start screaming; it starts out as a few giving little shrieks, jumping in their seats, but then the number grows, and he’s not sure why.

At the instrumental break he turns to Bill and Scotty for some explanation and the answer is, “The wiggle!  Them girls wanna see you wiggle!  Move, man!  More!  Much more!”

Funny; he hadn’t been fully aware of the fact that he was wiggling.  But these girls sure seem to like it.  So he keeps moving, keeps feeling the music and lets it take over.  The screams, the near-hysteria from the audience keep him going like they’re fuel and he’s a pink Cadillac and for a couple of minutes he’s never felt more powerful.  As one final gesture he reaches out into the audience, and they nearly pull him off the stage, tearing his jacket off of him.

And he leaves the stage, stunned, like he’s just had an out of body experience.

That was real.  That was all real; the show, and the audience’s reaction to it.  To him.  To some extent he’d known that the audiences enjoyed him, that for the last few years anyway that some girls liked him, but he’s never felt their reaction so deeply before.

He knows, in this moment, he’ll never be the same.

.........................

Elvis promises both Mama and Dixie that he hasn’t gotten to any foolin around on the road and so far he’s managed to keep his promise.  It’s not easy, granted. A lot of pretty girls would love to be in his hotel room where he stays, alone.  It’s funny; while he started dating back in high school, he’s never felt so deeply wanted until now.  

It’s an intoxicating feeling, like one night when he was younger and tried drinking peach brandy.  So at first he reminds himself of the morning after trying the peach brandy when he spent the majority of it throwing up and swearing to God above that he’d never touch the stuff again.  He flirts with the audience, tries to hide how flustered he feels to see so many girls throw their unmentionables onstage when he performs, and stops there.

It comes to a head, albeit not literally, when a woman his age, perhaps a little older, invites herself into his hotel room without a word.  He recognizes her from earlier, when she’d asked for his autograph after the concert.  She’d said her name was Natalie and he’d noticed even then the raw sex appeal she’d exuded, how she’d seemed interested in him but not in the breathless, star-struck way the other girls were.  More like he was a fun new toy she wanted to play with.  It had thrown him off guard but he’d almost been able to forget, until now.

His resistance has been falling each night.  He knows that he could easily ask this woman to leave.  Instead he turns his head to watch her sashay past him.  He takes in the sight of her supple curves shown off to almost dizzying effect in her tight little dress and she smirks over her shoulder, aware of how he's watching her as she drops her purse on the edge of the bed.  One that Elvis had been getting ready to retire to; he’s taken his shoes and socks off and had been working on his shirt before opening the door.  He stares, dumbfounded at her confidence and the way this woman’s skirt hugs her hips and backside.

He knows that he's on the verge of something new once more, that if he keeps going there's no returning to who he was before.

He shuts the door and turns to face her.  His heart pounds, he feels flushed and hot, his nerves on fire.

He could easily ask her to leave.  He should.  He should tell her that there’s some misunderstanding, that he’s flattered but he has a girl back home who’d be crushed if he fooled around with someone else.  He wouldn’t have to tell this woman that he’s never actually fooled around with his girlfriend, either.

“I haven’t done as much as you probably think,” he says instead.

......................

Ma sent you and your brother out for one last errand before the shops shut and you glance past the TVs in the home appliances store.  Your family may have moved into a nicer rowhouse with an extra bedroom and bathroom, but a television set is not a luxury your parents see any reason to throw away money on.

You’re glad, then, that you’ve been sent out this particular night because the image you see stops you dead in your tracks.

You know who this man is–you’ve heard his voice on the radio recently, the deep crooning and vivacious mix of rhythm and blues with country.  You’ve seen pictures that left you stunned at his combination of masculinity and almost ethereal beauty.  But you’ve never seen actual footage of him moving until now.

Fully dressed and before an audience he moves with untamed energy, rocking his hips in a way that just looks so primal that you can hardly believe it’s real.

It feels like you shouldn’t be allowed to see this.  Technically, he’s not doing anything wrong; it’s not like his thing is actually out for you to look at.  It’s not like he’s actually–well–you blush, watching as his hips go between undulating like the rolling tide and bouncing frenetically.  You let out an involuntary gasp, face flushing.  

While your eyes travel everywhere, noting his pretty face and plush lips, his long hair, you keep looking at, well, the area in between his legs you know is forbidden until marriage.  The part of him that you have only the vaguest knowledge of and have been told is meant for making babies only, just like your flower that's been bleeding every month for two years now.  You know the mechanics, and think about them sometimes with a detached sort of curiosity but no particular real desire.  

In between your own legs you throb, feeling hot.  You can't move, can't look away.  You've never seen anything quite like this.  Never felt quite like this or so deeply.  Once again you forget how long you’re standing there and staring at the vision before you.

“Y/N, what’re you looking at?  We need to–” your brother sees the monitor, looks at you, and rolls his eyes as he shakes his head.  “Oh, for–you can drool over that guy later.  Come on."

You immediately bristle, ashamed and almost afraid.  Is it really so obvious that you were thinking such indecent thoughts?  

"Oh, screw you!" you tell him, flushed now from embarrassment.

Your brother feigns an offended gasp.  "She's cursing now!  What next?" He reaches for your arm to tug you away and you pull away.

“I’m not a child!” you tell him, and he rolls his eyes. 

"Remember this conversation in four years.  Now come on."

Your brother doesn't bring it up later.  He could easily tease you about it in front of your sister and parents and a few years ago probably would've.  You're grateful; since you're the youngest and the only one who hasn't dated at all yet, and your parents hate the mere suggestion of that changing anytime soon.  But they also want you to get married.  If you had the gall to sass them, you’d ask if they knew you’d have to eventually date to marry.

That night you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what you saw.

You feel wet, but not like you're about to pee.  You squirm as you think about how you’ve heard whispers of people taking care of their…urges…alone.  And you keep thinking about it as you desperately want something to rock against, to rub against the ache between your legs.

You can't.  You mustn't.  You shouldn't.

Although if your sister wasn't sleeping just a few feet away, you probably would at least try, even if you wouldn’t have any clue what you’re doing.

You give a small whine through closed lips and throw yourself onto your side, flopping around in bed like a fish out of water.    

You groan, embarrassed, and after a moment fish out the magazine you’ve kept hidden under a book in your nightstand along with your flashlight.  You silently apologize to your older sister as you pull the covers up and turn on the flashlight.  You catalog everything you see, every detail.

You wonder what he looks like under those baggy suits.  You know enough of the basics of a man's anatomy but wonder, still.  He's slender but not too thin.  Would his…his thing match that or be thick like a…a Coke can?  Is that even possible?  You've heard that he's six feet tall.  Would that mean he'd be long?  You're not sure what "long" would even look like.  You haven't been so bold as to ask your sister (who you know for a fact has gone all the way already with her fiance and that's part of why they're engaged now) nor any of her friends.  Right now you wish you had, so you have a better frame of reference.  You wonder how it would feel nestled within you.  

You've never even been kissed and already you're thinking about far more than that.  It's safe to imagine, though, that he's a wonderful kisser.  With those soft-looking full lips he can probably do a lot; you're not sure exactly what, but your body seems to understand things your brain hasn't learned yet.

You end up falling asleep with your flashlight in your hand and the magazine pressed against your cheek.

.......................................

The Colonel asks him what he’s going to sing tonight.

“I’ve made no decision,” Elvis says, not in any particular mood to pretend that he’s happy with the Colonel right now.  “I’ll feel it.”

The cop smirks and cheerfully tells him it will all go fine, “just so long as you don’t wiggle a finger!”

And that does it.  Something snaps within him, even as he sits still and quiet, face still impassive as he gazes out the window at the massive crowd that’s formed.   A crowd of people who are there for him because they responded to who he actually is, not the neutered parody of himself that Steve Allen and the Colonel have been trotting him out as.

I’m here for them, not for any of the people who want to hold me back.

As he’s being announced, as he and his guys start to ascend the stage, the Colonel grabs Elvis’s arm.

“All you gotta do is sing the nice song, smile the nice smile, no wiggling, and then we can get back to show business!  And have fun, my boy!  Fun!” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the coiled tension in Elvis’s body, the way Elvis doesn’t respond.  A little over two years ago Elvis thought the Colonel had all the answers to questions he never even thought to ask.  He thought the Colonel understood him better than anyone else in show business possibly could.  Right now he’s not so sure.

What he is sure of is that something needs to change, and he’s going to be the one to do it.

Now.

He knows for a fact the cop who drove him here is in attendance, watching and seething as Elvis points one pinky in the air, and that knowledge makes him smirk.  For a moment he feels like a prowling lion, ready for the attack.  

“Trouble,” he instructs the band.

“I’m gonna show you what the real Elvis is like tonight!” he cries out to the audience.

‘Fuck you,’ he thinks, the moment the first chord hits.

‘Fuck you,’ he thinks, as he begins with, “If you’re lookin for trouble, you came to the right place.”

He won’t lie down, he won’t give in.  He doesn’t give a shit that there’s a segregationist rally nearby and in fact he hopes he ruins the rally because fuck them, too. He doesn’t want their approval.  Elvis gyrates and writhes and screams and doesn’t give a single flying fuck what trouble he’s really causing because for the first time in months he truly feels alive.  

#elvis 2022 #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin!elvis smut #elvis presley #elvis movie

[ladymirwen]

A list of prompts~

Whumpee/ sickie dialogue: 

'I don't want to be comforted by you! You hurt me.' 

‘I didn’t think it’d get this bad . . .’ 

‘Shit. Did I wake you up?’ 

‘It all hurts . . . so much. I just want it to be over with already.’ 

‘Why should you care?’ 

‘I didn’t want you to see me like this.’ 

‘Hold my hand, please?’ 

‘Please don’t watch,’ said by a character who is vomiting and is embarrassed to be seen in this state by whoever’s with them. 

Whumpee/ sickie prompts: 

Grabbing onto caretaker's clothes for comfort. 

Literally going out of their way to avoid any physical contact with caretaker in case their fever gets exposed. 

Tears brimming at the corners of sickie’s eyes because of the sheer effort it takes to vomit. 

Those small hitches in breath that happen after a character has cried profoundly. 

Characters clutching the front of their own shirt when they’re upset because of the ‘pain in their chest’. 

Characters trying to hide the fact that they’d been crying, only to be exposed by their runny nose and puffy eyes. 

Whumpees who dig their face into the crook of caretaker’s neck. 

Caretaker dialogue: 

'Look at me,' which follows caretaker gently tilting whumpee's head towards them. 

‘Poor baby . . .’ 

‘Shh, I know. It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?’ 

‘Come on, let’s get you to bed.’ 

'Come on, don't- don't do that,' says a timid caretaker when sickie starts crying. 

Pet names being used to soothe a character when they’re in pain - ‘Darling’, ‘Sweetie’, ‘Honey’, ‘Baby,’ ‘Love’. These hit different when used platonically.

‘You should’ve told me.’ 

‘Try to hold this down. For me, please.' 

‘Woah, [name], it hurts that much?’ 

‘I never want to see you like this again.’ 

‘What have they done to you . . . ?’ 

‘I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not even yourself.’ 

‘I don’t need permission to help you.’ 

‘Please, [name], just speak to me! Tell me what’s wrong!’ 

Caretaker prompts: 

Hands stroking through hair. 

The way caretaker’s eyes soften when they notice the pain their friend is in. 

Moving strands of hair away from face. 

Rubs on the back when sickie is vomiting.

Confused caretaker who is unsure how to help but is trying their best. 

Timid caretaker who nervously pats sickie’s head and says ‘there, there’. 

Pressing whumpee’s head against their chest to shield their vision from whatever horrible scene is playing out before them. 

That sad little concerned crease between caretaker’s brow as they tenderly comfort whumpee. 

Caretakers deciding blankets aren’t going to cut it and instead smother sickie with their own body heat - trap them in a tight hug/ snuggle. 

Caretakers wincing in anticipation when they see sickie starting to get pale, aware that another round of vomiting is soon to come.  

#sickfic prompts #sickfic #whumpblr #whump prompt #hurt/comfort #sickie #caretaker #jjsnsxx cute cute #whump ideas

[em-mermaid]

Wrap Me In Your Arms and Hold Me Tight

Behold, I present to you a Renthubs fic! I have had this piece of lovely art by @briseise rattling around in my brain since it was posted and I decided it deserved to be in writing. Also, I don’t have an AO3 account so this will just be posted here. I hope you enjoy!

A date night with the monolith roomies where Etho gains the courage to ask for what he wants. (3021 words. Mild angst with a whole lot of fluff.)

Edit: there is now a bonus scene!

----------------------------------------------

“Hey Etho! Perfect timing, the bread just came out of the oven!” Ren announces as Etho enters their small shared kitchen. Ren is wearing a kiss the cook apron and his long dark hair has been taken out of its usual ponytail. The fresh loaf of bread is sitting on the counter next to three glasses of red wine, one significantly more empty than the others. Ren grabs a full one and presents it to Etho with a flourish and a small bow. “For you, my dear!”

Etho chuckles and accepts the glass, his heart fluttering slightly as their fingers brush. “Thanks Ren. The bread smells incredible by the way.”

Ren grins, leaning back against the counter, tail thumping lightly against the drawers. “Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells. I added some new flavors this time.”

There is a crash from the room above, quickly followed by a startled shout. They look up when they hear Bdubs stomping down the stairs grumbling. His eyebrows are furrowed as he comes into view. There is a small book in his hand and his moss jacket is covered in dust. “-flimsy box, whoever made that should-” he cuts off abruptly as he notices Ren and Etho’s quiet laughter. “Hey stop that!”

“Having some trouble reaching those tall shelves?” Etho asks, smirking behind his mask.

Bdubs huffs and sets the book on the counter. “I’ll have you know, I am perfectly capable of reaching the books I need.” Etho hums skeptically as Bdubs takes off his jacket, throwing it onto a nearby chest. After only two failed attempts, he perches himself on the counter.

“Of course you are,” Ren mockingly consoles, walking over to hand him the other glass of wine. Bdubs pouts for a moment until Ren reaches out to softly cup his cheek, guiding their lips into a gentle kiss. When they part Ren adds, more sincerely, “Thank you for finding the recipe book, love. I know it is a mess up there.” Bdubs’ frustration melts and he smiles fondly at Ren.

Of course, Etho’s stomach picks this moment to growl loudly. The two look towards him, amused, and he shrugs. “Time for bread?”

Bdubs nods enthusiastically and Ren opens a drawer to grab the serrated knife.

As Ren cuts the bread, Etho takes off his mask and tucks it into the pocket of his jacket. He sips his wine and leans against the counter to watch his partners. Distantly, he wonders how they can be so casually intimate and then continue afterwards as if it was the most natural thing to do. For them, he supposes, it is.

Physical affection was something he generally shied away from. His friends and partners knew that he wasn’t usually comfortable with things like hugs or a random pat on the back, so they would either ask in the moment if it was okay or avoid it all together. It wasn’t something he had thought about too often before the three of them had decided they wanted more than just friendship. He was usually happy to go about his days, laughing and spending time with the hermits, no one expecting anything from him beyond what he offered. But right now, watching as Bdubs snaches a small slice of bread and takes a bite before feeding the rest to Ren, he realizes that he wants it with them.

—--

The smell of steak and vegetable stew fills the kitchen. Wine glasses have been refilled and only half of the bread remains. Bdubs has shifted down the counter to be closer to the stove and he is reading loudly from the cookbook.

“It says to let it simmer on low heat for twenty minutes and to stir occasionally.” He sets a timer and then looks up at Etho, who is standing in front of the pot, stirring. “What does it mean by low heat? Aren’t all stoves a little bit different? How are we supposed to know what they mean by ‘occasionally’?”

Etho sighs fondly at him while Ren, without turning away from the sink where he is washing a cutting board, replies, “Cooking is an art. The person who wrote this recipe probably doesn’t actually measure anything. More than likely they have made it enough times that they can take one look at the pot or have a small taste and just know to add more salt or let it sit for five more minutes.”

Bdubs frowns at this, glancing up at Etho for support and oh- that was unfair. One of Bdubs’ legs is propped up on the counter and he is resting his chin on his knee. He looks expectantly up at Etho through his eyelashes and Etho can’t help but let his gaze flick down towards his lips. He wonders absently if they feel as soft as they look. The corner of Bdubs’ mouth turns up slightly and he knows he’s been caught.

Warmth rises to his cheeks. Etho sets the spoon on the counter and turns towards Ren, trying to remember what they had been talking about. Thankfully, Ren doesn’t seem to notice the too long pause before Etho replies in a mostly steady voice, “I can agree with you about the person knowing the recipe inside and out, but cooking is not an art. It’s science. It’s like redstone. You start with a tutorial, or in this case, a recipe and then once you understand how the different elements work together, you can start experimenting to try and make something even better.”

“No way dude, cooking is definitely art. It is like designing a build. You throw together a bunch of delicious things and, if you pick the correct ones, it turns into a beautiful masterpiece.” Ren places the cutting board on the drying rack and finally turns towards them. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head slightly as he, presumably, notices Etho’s pink cheeks. “You good, E?”

Etho’s orange ear flicks as nervous energy begins to bubble in his stomach. Before he can figure out how to respond, Bdubs speaks up from behind him. “I think our Etho is in need of some hugs and kisses tonight.”

Now that definitely had his face burning. Our Etho. He shuffles back and forth slightly as Ren looks between the two and smiles. Ren offers his hand out for Etho to take, “I would love that, but only if you want to. There is no pressure.”

Etho hesitates. He can’t say that Bdubs is wrong about this, but he’s not sure if he is quite ready yet. He had only recently been comfortable enough to take his mask off in front of them and, on top of that, it had only been half an hour since he had truly accepted that this was something he wanted to add to their relationship.

Sure, the thought of kissing them or letting them drag him upstairs for sleepy cuddles was something that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a while, but now it felt like a genuine possibility. But it is all so new to him. What if he messes things up? What if they think he is too awkward? Is kissing or cuddling something other people inherently understand or is there some sort of social code for how it usually goes?

No, he thinks. They won’t judge him. They never have, so why would they start now? Sure they might poke fun at him for being awkward, but they would always stop if they knew it actually bothered him. It will be okay, he reassures himself, just go one step at a time. He takes a deep breath and refocuses on Ren’s hand, still outstretched.

Heart racing, he places his hand in Ren’s. He swallows before speaking towards their interlocked fingers. “I’m, uh, not opposed, but I’m not really sure?”

“That’s okay, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that” Bdubs says softly. Ren steps closer, tugging Etho’s hand slightly so they could all properly face each other. Bdubs takes his foot off the counter so he can lean forward and reach up to put a hand on Etho’s face. His thumb is warm as it traces Etho’s scarred cheek and he adds with a small smirk, “but with the way you were lookin’ at me, how could I not bring it up?”

With that, some of the tension melts from Etho’s body and he leans into Bdubs’ palm with a bashful smile. Ren squeezes his hand and the three of them exist for a moment, content to just be in each other’s company.

They all startle as the timer for the stew goes off. Slowly, regretfully Etho pulls away to turn off the stove.

—--

The three of them sit comfortably, empty bowls and wine glasses between them on the small table. The orange glow of dusk begins to show through the windows. Bdubs yawns loudly and stretches.

“Almost time for shreep,” Bdubs announces as he gets up and takes their bowls to the sink. “Do you want to join us, E?”

“Nah, you know me. I sleep best when it’s quiet.”

Bdubs hums in response to his usual excuse, deciding for once to ignore the pointed comment about his snoring. “Alright, but can I at least give you a forehead kiss before I go to bed? I was interrupted earlier.”

Etho looks up in surprise, not realizing Bdubs had still been thinking about their earlier conversation. “Sure,” he replies quietly, a blush already rising to his cheeks.

Walking back to the table Bdubs slowly and gently places his hand on Etho’s cheek. He tilts Etho’s head up until their eyes meet and Etho’s breath hitches at the sheer adoration in his eyes. “Goodnight, my love, I will see you in the morning.” He leans down and presses a tender kiss to Etho’s forehead. Etho’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he relishes the sensation.

It is over too soon. Etho finds himself wanting to chase after the warmth of Bdubs’ hand as it pulls away. Bdubs smiles softly at him before turning to Ren and giving him a lingering kiss on the lips.

“I’ll join you in a couple of minutes,” Ren says quietly, and Bdubs turns to go upstairs to his room.

Etho catches himself staring after Bdubs, wondering why he couldn’t manage to ask him for a proper kiss as well. He hears Ren get up and place their wine glasses near the sink. There is more shuffling as Ren opens cabinets to find a container for the leftover stew. He wonders if they realize how much he wants to let his walls down. He is chipping away at them ever so slowly, but it takes more than a couple of hours to get through a lifetime of protection.

His thoughts are interrupted when Ren clears his throat and sits down in the chair next to him. “Are you sure you are good, E? I know you are usually quiet, but you seem extra distant tonight.”

Etho considers telling him, but chickens out at the last second. “Yeah I’m all good, just tired.”

“Ok, well I’m going to head up to bed as well. You are always welcome to join us, no matter the time.”

“Thanks, I will keep that in mind.”

Ren reaches forward, smiles, and gives Etho’s hand a gentle squeeze before standing to follow Bdubs up the stairs.

—--

Later that night, Etho is pacing back and forth in his basement bedroom, tail thrashing in irritation. His jacket and gloves have been haphazardly discarded onto his dresser. Instead of his usual boots, he was wearing the slippers that Bdubs had gifted him when he moved in. He had been trying to sleep for a couple of hours, but his thoughts were too loud. For once, his room was too quiet, too empty. He usually enjoyed the solitude of night, but tonight he found himself wanting to wrap himself in Ren’s strong arms and have Bdubs’ not so quiet snores lull him to sleep. If only he could work up the courage to ask. If only he had accepted their invitation.

He finds himself desperately looking towards his bedroom door, as if his partners could hear his silent pleas for them to come down the stairs and reassure him. Logically, he knew that they were asleep, likely curled up together, oblivious to his wants. That didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed as the moments passed and neither of them came. He reminds himself that the only way they will actually know what he wants is if he tells them. Determination surges through him and he decides it is now or never.

Swiftly, he leaves his room and climbs the many stairs up the monolith. His confidence starts to waver slightly as he leaves the basement. “It’s okay,” he murmurs to himself as he passes through the kitchen and approaches the bedroom. “You can do this.”

He stumbles slightly as their bed comes into view. In the darkness he can see Ren’s ear twitch at the noise and he freezes, unsure if he was actually intending to wake them up or just slip into the bed unnoticed. Ren saves him from making that decision as his eye cracks open and he props himself up on his elbow, looking towards Etho.

“Hey E, decided to join us?” Ren’s voice is thick with sleep. Bdubs is still curled into his chest, snoring loudly.

Etho nods and hesitantly approaches the bed. Ren scoots himself and Bdubs over slightly and gestures for Etho to lay on Bdubs’ other side. Sliding his slippers off his feet, he lifts up the covers and gingerly climbs into the bed.

“Don’t worry,” Ren whispers, “it takes a lot more than that to wake this man up.” As if to prove his point Bdubs lets out a particularly loud snore and curls even closer to Ren.

Ren watches Etho as he lays down. He is still cautious, unsure of what is allowed, not quite confident in what he wants, so he makes sure to avoid touching Bdubs as he pulls the covers up to his chest.

That’s when Ren asks the question Etho had been dreading. “If it’s okay, can I ask what made you change your mind?”

Etho shuffles around under the covers, both to get more comfortable and to stall for a moment as he tries to reign in his racing thoughts. After a few breaths, he decides on his approach.

“You remember what Bdubs said earlier about me needing some hugs and kisses?” he asks, thankful for the darkness of the room and the illusion of anonymity. Ren hums affirmatively before Etho takes another breath and continues, “I think that has been true for a while now and I really don’t know how to ask for it.”

Ren is still for a moment, except for his tail gently and nervously swishing under the covers. Etho starts to think he has made a mistake before Ren slowly reaches out and, after giving Etho enough time to say no or pull away, gently takes his hand. “I appreciate you trusting me with this, E. Is there anything in particular that you want right now?”

“I, uh, wanted to cuddle with both of you and,” he pauses to swallow before continuing in an even quieter voice, “maybe I could kiss you?” Etho is sure Ren can see his blush even in the darkness.

There is shuffling as Ren sits up. “Absolutely you can, but we will have to make do with leaning over this sleeping lump for now.” Etho chuckles quietly and sits up. Asking for this feels less intimidating now, with Ren’s light-hearted tone and Bdubs’ continued snoring to keep him grounded. They soothe his anxieties and it reminds him why he feels comfortable enough to ask for this in the first place.

Etho moves the hand not holding Ren’s to gently run it through Ren’s hair. It was something he had been wanting to do and now seemed like the perfect time. Ren smiles reassuringly and Etho lets his hand brush through it a few more times before letting it come to a rest on the back of Ren’s neck. He scans Ren’s face, taking in his kind eyes and soothing smile as Ren patiently waits for him to build up his nerve. Moments pass in the dark room and it feels like they are the only people in the universe. Then, Etho is leaning forward, gently pulling Ren towards him and finally, their lips meet.

It’s a soft, sweet thing. Ren’s facial hair tickles slightly and a warmth spreads through Etho's chest. It’s only a moment before they part, but they stay close, breathing the same air. Ren is smiling giddily and Etho is sure his expression mirrors it.

Bdubs snores loudly and rolls over towards Etho, hands seeming to search for the covers that had been displaced. Etho glances down at him before looking back at Ren. “He’s going to be so jealous.”

“Oh yes,” Ren replies. “But I’m sure we can find a way to make it up to him. Maybe with you here, he will actually stay in bed for some extra morning cuddles instead of hopping up at the crack of dawn.”

“That’s unlikely.” Etho says, stifling a yawn. It’s then that he remembers just how late it is, particularly for Ren, who has somewhat adopted Bdubs’ sleep schedule in the past few weeks. “We should sleep.”

Ren nods, settling down against the pillow. Etho follows suit hesitantly, until Ren takes their still connected hands to guide Etho’s arm around Bdubs. In response, Bdubs curls into Etho’s chest and hugs him tightly. Etho meets Ren’s amused gaze over their boyfriend’s brown curls and after a moment, finally relaxes into his hold. Ren presses himself against Bdubs’ back and pulls up the covers as he reaches his arm around to hug both of his partners.

Etho hums quietly and closes his eyes, finally drifting off to gentle snoring and a thumb rubbing calming circles into his shoulder.

#renthubs #fox etho and dog ren #human bdubs #also etho ended up leaning demiromantic #he's just like me fr fr #hope you enjoy my first ever fanfic #hermitshipping #ethubs #rendubs #mermaid writes #hermitfic

[inmyhorrorsera]

S5E9 & S5E10 thoughts

Well, I liked it!

The biggest loser here is Episode 9 because all my thoughts are so occupied by the finale that I can't say much about the previous episode which wasn't even bad. So just three quick things:

Finally I get some good fucking food (The Guide content).

"I'm… going…to kill you… Guillermo" gave me CHILLS.

Guidja real.

Now, to Episode 10:

Didn't notice the previous episode how feral Nandor was filmed, his face all darkened except for a beam of light on his furious eyes, good and classic vampire shit!

Nadja Detective Policeman visiting Guillermo in that outfit😩

Wow, Guillermo treating Derek bad after all he did for him really make the point across that he's a shitty person.

There's something so 😙👌 about Nandor going back to Panera, always love a full circle moment.

I don't care about Patton Oswald as a comedian or person due some disgusting shit he pulled years ago, so sadly I couldn't enjoy his scenes with Nandor that much. I loved that after the whole conversation he still killed him tho. I read someone in the tags paralleling this scene to Guillermo and Meg in S3E2, and I fully agree with that interpretation.

Laszlo helping Guillermo and apologizing…😭 He loves him! I would love to see more of how Laszlo feels about his "frustrations" (his innability to help Guillermo, the impotency of seeing Colin grow up and not remember him). That's something that should be explored better next season imo.

Him trying to have a serious conversation but keep getting distracted by the porn is me trying to watch this show as a dumb comedy but getting distracted by the nandermo of it all.

All the vampires visiting him with dumb excuses was so cute. I wish I never see those creatures ever again tho.

Ahhhh Nandor calling Guillermo from his mother in law mom's house was some psycho shit. Also it remind me a bit of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when Spike visits Buffy's mom just to taunt her. Imagine Nandor pulling this shit:

(Silvia immediately stakes him of course).

"My friend, Patton Oswalt, he passed away". The solemn way he says it as if he wasn't the culprit 😭.

The moment of Guillermo putting the stake on Nandor's neck was an explicit sex scene for me and for everyone with good taste.

On the opposite side, Nandor helping Guillermo with the red cape is SO SOFT, it's all about being equals this time.

The Djinn… oof… as someone who was begging for his appearance since the beginning of the season, this stunt left me cold… sorry but everything that starts with "it happened off screen" it's bad writing. It's giving "Daenerys kind of forgot…" level of bad.

Didn't like that suddenly Nandor is smarter than the others (specially if we come from an episode when Laszlo called him 'a fuckin idiot' for not getting the Guide reveal).

I already mentioned this in a post I made last night, but I'll repeat it verbatim here, because I stand by it:

I don't believe FOR A SECOND that Laszlo didn't try to feed Guillermo human blood 🤔 Remember when Nadja on s1 went on an entire mission to help Jenna to complete her transformation? (hey everybody, remember Jenna?) How Guillermo 'all my life I dreamed of being a vampire' did not know that piece of lore??

"Guillermo can't kill people" Umm whoever decided to go on this direction, I recommend them this show on FX called What we do in the shadows it's very good! (when consistent).

I…. don't trust that "Guillermo is not cut to be a vampire" stuff… sounds like retcon… BUT! I love the "Guillermo is not cut to be a vampire YET, specially if he isnt sired by Nandor" interpretation.

From the beginning I had this hunch that Guillermo's longing for a family and community (I'm not saying he dislikes his bio family, but obviously he grow up distant from them, probably for being queer and feeling like "an outsider") was a reason for being so desperate to become a vampire. Now that he has the family (bio AND chosen) and the community, it's his time to think if he STILL wants to be vampire or not (and he said at the fake ceremony that he still wants it 😌).

Lmao Guillermo's beard... that thing... didn't look like it was growing from Harvey's face.

🗣️HE 🗣️KEPT 🗣️THE 🗣️GLASSES!!!

More Derek! And with better make up than that ashy talcum powder nightmare from Episode 1!! WTF they got rid of another character of color again??!! Benedict Wong what are you doing here???!!! Yay??????

I really like that Topher is a "functional" zombie in comparison with his state in S2E1, it makes sense with the zombies we saw on the original movie.

Still weird that we end the episode and season here, with Derek happy ending?

HOT take but I like that it didn't end on a cliffhanger, considering that we don't know the state of the show post strikes yet AND after s4 I don't trust this people with cliffhangers ever again lol.

Now that the season is finished I came to realize Nadja's entire arc AGAIN was a big 'ol nothing, huh? The hex, her Antipaxos found family, the little stunt as a teacher, literal "throw at the wall and see what it sticks". I'm sorry but I'll repeat: WWDITS learn how to write women challenge.

Excited to see how Guillermo and Nandor's relationship will develop from now on, I know some people are frustrated but as someone who is used to slow burns being SLOW this is my shit. I joke a lot about the pairing but also I understand that this is the shit&farts show first, nandermo nation second (unlike some people that appears they only consume and rate media depending on how much kissy kissy is on the screen).

From 1 to 10, I'll give this season a 7. Not that good as my god tier seasons (S2 is a 9, S3 is a 10), but not so bad as S4.

What I want next season:

Guillermo NEEDS to be a Bad Bitch again: slaying vampires like the Van Helsing he is, being gay af, not being scared to sass out Nandor, etc.

Laszlo and Colin NEED to have a real talk.

Consistency.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEARN HOW TO WRITE FOR NADJA I'M ON MY KNEES AT THIS POINT!!!

#sorry if this is rambly have to rewatch both episodes again last nite i had zero braincells #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nandermo #wwdits thoughts #wwdits spoilers

[positivelybeastly]

Astonishing X-men Beast, if someone were to ask you what’s the main issue with the X-men/ Professor X philosophy what would you say? Not from anyone else’s experiences just yours and events that have taken place. While I take you as someone very loyal to the dream of Xavier, even though Scott is the poster boy/boy-scout of the team, you’ve surely have diverged at some point. Not completely, but slightly. Maybe. I don’t know.

". . . Have you ever noticed something a little odd about the First Class of X-Men? Charles' handpicked selection of mutants with whom to shock, astonish, charm, and woo the world?"

"Professor Xavier had access to Cerebro, the most advanced mutant locating technology ever devised, working in conjunction with one of the most powerful and well trained minds that's ever graced this Earth. He had his pick of an entire planet's worth of mutants whom he could have chosen to elevate, to show the world, to use to prove to the human race that we were not to be hated and feared.

And he chose five white young Americans with non-threatening powers.

Sometimes I wonder - if I looked back then how I look now, would I have made the cut? Would the Professor have deemed me worthy of being a flag-bearer for his dream? Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"But that is the issue, isn't it? The dream requires infinite patience. It requires infinite understanding. It requires an infinite capacity to be smacked in the face and turn the other cheek. It requires certain qualities. It requires certain people, includes certain people, excludes others, if only by proxy.

It requires a seventeen year old boy to be nearly beaten to death by an angry mob and decide, no, I'll continue to fight for you."

"That's quite a thing to ask of a child. That's quite a thing to ask of anyone, don't you think? There are those who might say that when it comes to survival, the moral high ground merely ends up being the six foot of earth separating you and the top soil. I don't agree, obviously, but. It's not a life for everyone.

Sometimes, I think it's not a life for anyone."

"But, in the end, I do believe. I believe in co-existence. I have a mother and a father who have loved me from the instant they saw me, no matter how unnatural my appendages.

They remind me that, no matter what else happens, there are always humans who make the world better. Humans who will like us, love us, break bread with us, protect us, nurture us. Even though it may seem like all you ever see are the sneering faces calling you a gene-freak, the other kind of person exists, too. It helps, to break the surface and take a deep breath every now and then. Remind yourself what you're fighting for."

". . . The Professor himself has admitted that the dream may well be just a dream. That it needs to change if it's to become reality. It needs to include the physically mutated, the violent, the dispossessed, the unhappy, the unruly, the different. The strange.

The uncanny.

But the problem is that dreamers aren't made. They become. In some ways, maybe we're all just waiting for the new dreamer to come along to tell us what the next big idea should be.

For a time, I wondered if that might be me. But, I don't think it is. I'm excited to meet them, however. Whoever they may be. And when I do, I just hope they recognise that even if their dream is better, the Professor's dream are still the shoulders upon which they stand."

". . . Heady stuff, no?"

I'm also going to copy over my thoughts about a particular scene in Astonishing X-Men that you might find interesting, both in relation to your earlier question about body language, and about Hank and Xavier's dream. I originally posted this analysis on Reddit.

Something I really appreciate about this scene is that it highlights how different Hank and Scott are in their relationship with Xavier.

Perhaps because Scott grew up with an abusive parental figure in Jack Winters and Hank grew up with very loving parents, Scott was able to recognise Charles' toxic behaviour and break away from Xavier - it might also have had something to do with the fact that at least one of Charles' biggest fuck ups had to do with Scott's brother Gabriel? Hard to say. But Hank, who Charles very carefully isolated from his parents by mindwiping them for years of Hank's whole existence, never really managed to break free of him, and it shows here.

Hell, it arguably never went away, even into the Krakoan era - a more interesting version of X-Force would have really dived into the kind of fucked up dynamic they have, where Chuck keeps covering for Beast's moral transgressions for seemingly no reason, because in some respects, he's responsible for them. He gave him the power, he gave him no oversight, but even more pressingly, he wasn't there for him emotionally. He pulled him into this life and didn't prepare him for the toll it would take, how much it would ruin Beast by the time he gets to Krakoa. Beast needed someone to help him there, and no-one did, which is part of why he went on the skids, I think.

But anyway, Whedon does a lot of moments where Hank is present for scenes but doesn't speak, which is important for a character who's well known for not shutting the fuck up. This, the initial cure conversation, the whole conversation about Piotr - Hank clams up. He doesn't feel like he can talk about it. He's off in his own head, his thoughts are his own, he doesn't feel the need to share them.

And here, it's especially important, because this is a big moral violation that Charles has committed in their name. I know it may be hard to remember, but back in the day, Hank had a moral opinion that was worth something, so the fact that he doesn't say anything here speaks volumes about just how much he feels capable of calling out the Professor, i.e. not at all. He craves Xavier's validation, his approval, he feels a kinship with Chuck. So he doesn't criticise him like he should.

It's especially interesting given that this would continue through the Utopia era. Every time Scott distanced himself from Xavier, Hank was there to comfort Charles, and I feel like that's just something he feels like he has to do. He feels like the devoted brother to Scott's more radical, more willing to criticise brother, and if Bendis had any interest in Beast as a character, he would've played on that in All-New X-Men - the fact that Scott killed their toxic father figure, and Beast feels both free of an influence he didn't know was choking him, but outraged that Scott would break their 'family' like that.

I find Beast compelling because of his flaws, and this is an interesting moment when you take all of that into account. I don't even know if that was the intention of this scene, or if Whedon just wanted to give Scott the speech, but it's interesting.

I definitely feel as though Hank agrees with Scott in the scene, for the record, but doesn't feel able to express it. Is that better or worse? Hard to say. The way that Cassaday draws him as he tells the other X-Men that their ride is here, it communicates shame and disappointment - but not just in Xavier. He's ashamed of his fear. He's disappointed in himself, that he didn't feel capable of speaking up.

And the reason that has real weight is because of his original X-Man status - I don't feel inclined to judge Kitty here despite the fact that she's silent as well, because it's a different dynamic. I don't really expect her to, you know? But Hank, I do, and I think he expects that of himself.

I doubt that Scott or the rest of the team judges Hank for staying silent, either - it's not as if he was complicit in Danger's abuse, after all - especially since it doesn't come up in the conversations Hank and Scott have after this. But Hank, I feel, would judge himself.

I also wonder if this might have played into why Hank got so much more vocal and active in opposing Scott's actions on Utopia - because he felt ashamed by his passivity here, and felt obligated not to let that tendency to repeat. But also, on some level, because he felt more like a peer to Scott, and less like a child, compared to Xavier.

In those instances, Hank is often morally correct, but, in some respects, naive and unhelpful, and he recuses himself from making what we might perceive to be the correct decision because of his ethics. I feel that there's a tendency to call him a coward or obstinate because of that - but is it really cowardly to make a moral stand? And, especially given what Hank would do as time went on, would we not have rather he kept making those moral stands, rather than desperately trying anything he thought would work?

I genuinely don't think he opposed Scott because he didn't like him or didn't love him, because I feel like he very clearly did, but because he felt it was the right thing to do for the both of them. In Hank's mind, he's fighting for the X-Men's soul, for Scott's - for his own. Scott, meanwhile, feels like it's all worth it so long as mutantkind makes it through. They're both right. They're both wrong. That's what makes it a worthwhile conflict.

#water-god19 #outofmuffins

[vypridae]

*magically appears from the void*

Okay! Hi, hope your having a good day, all of that jazz. Maybe someone has asked you this before, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on a fyosiglai circus au? Hehe sorry ive been starting to create one and since you like fyosiglai wanted to hear your thoughts!

got on my computer to answer this one because this is GENIUS

i don't really think of circus aus much and i haven't really thought much about like, what? goes on? in a circus? cause i don't know? but this is absolute genius (i'm actually looking shit up as i write this so aHSGJKHASDFJKG) (also this got long so under a cut)

okay. first initial thoughts; decay of angels are the main circus members. fukuchi is the ringmaster + surprise he's also the lion tamer (i could imagine him like, surprising the audience because nikolai "accidentally" lets out a lion or something and fukuchi "tames it" in front of the audience so they get Big Jumpscare cause oh no that wasn't supposed to happen !!! yes it was lmao)

also as a little side note i like to think bram does the sword swallowing and knife throwing (sigma's the target) and he's literally perfect at the knife throwing and no one knows how he's that amazing

sigma i imagine is the most flexible of the remaining three so i can see him doing like, the acrobatics in the air and contortion and stuff (and i like to imagine it flusters the FUCK out of nikolai and fyodor because holy shit? how? he's so pretty. what the fuck?).

you expected this i bet but nikolai is the clown !! obviously. he probably does a lot of the juggling stuff, maybe some "magic", and he really likes the dangerous things so he ends up being the one on the tightrope walk and he pretends to fall and doesn't (i imagine this circus is really bent on "how can we jumpscare the audience"). he has so much fun messing with the audience and most of his acts end up including at least one (1) audience member. maybe he does some fire performances too (he definitely does) (i bet the first time sigma saw nikolai do fire tricks he was terrified and fyodor reassured him it was fine because "he's been doing this since we were children. do not worry")

fyodor i'm really not sure what he might do. trying to think what he might do is kinda stumping me rn, i can't imagine he likes doing stuff in front of other people but i can imagine he might be really good at the object manipulation stuff, i think he'd have a lot more he does behind the scenes though. so like, lighting and special effects and stuff. i don't think he'd like doing any actual acts but he can do some of them and he's good at them, like maybe equilibristics a little bit? i'm really not sure for him, but whatever he does nikolai is super excited about it and sigma thinks he's absolutely amazing at it

i imagine sigma is the newest member of the circus too. fukuchi and bram founded it, and fyodor and nikolai knew each other from childhood so sigma feels really out of place with them at first, but fyodor and nikolai take a liking to him and i imagine they help him in determining his acts and what he might do for the audience and it turns out he's a natural! and honestly it only makes fyodor and nikolai more interested and eventually fall for him whether they want to or not

i also imagine fukuchi is absolutely awful and teases either nikolai or fyodor (fyodor would be funnier) about "ah, those two?" and whoever he's teasing (fyodor is still funnier) is like "shut UP." (he never shuts up)

maybe there's some rival circus or something (immediate thought was either the ADA or the hunting dogs) and they have to get their shit TOGETHER and figure out How Can We Be Better Than These Guys and fyosiglai work together training and practicing and stuff and Shit! Goes! Down! you can decide what that might be idk what happens in circus aus

#i've literally never thought about a circus au in my life i love this tho #genuinely such fun au ideas for REAL #sorry if this isnt what you wanted btw !!! i ve never thought of a circus au ever #xanbox #bsd #bungou stray dogs #decay of angels #fyosiglai #fyodor dostoevsky #sigma bsd #nikolai gogol #ouchi fukuchi #bram stoker #circus au #xanthinks