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wannaabe-writer · 3 years

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Is it enough?

Summary: Two ex lovers, who still love each other very much, and some liquid courage. Is it enough to bring to the surface the old feelings? Are these feelings enough to mend for the mistakes of the past?

Pairing: Damiano David x Reader

Warnings: Nothing extreme, just an overall sadness and a feeling of unworthiness. Also, a mention or two of nudity and some making out hehe ;)

A/N: Soo this is my first ever attempt at fanfiction so please be kind with me :( English isn't my first language so forgive me for any mistakes you may find. Massive thanks to my love @bitchforaesthetics for beta reading and helping me with it <3 I have a second part in mind so if you are intersted just say so and I will deliver ;) Feedback is greatly appreciated!Last but not least, happy reading angels <3

-Have I told you how much I like your stubble?

Featherlike fingertips grazing over his chiseled jaw. He was so beautiful. Strong jawline and brown eyes reminding her a sea full of emotions. She had missed looking at him at such a proximity. Almost involuntarily she leaned into him. A sharp intake of breath. God, he had missed this so much. All these nights thinking about her touch. So soft, like a cloud caressing him, making his heart beat steadily, filled with love and adoration. Her y/e/c looking at him like he hung the stars. It wasn’t like he didn’t look at her the same way. To him she was the sun and the stars.

-Y/N, you are drunk. You really don’t know what you’re talking about.

He had to stop this before it got out of hand. He would lie if he said that he hadn’t dreamt of this moment for months. But she was drunk and he would never take advantage of her like that. Even if she was like a sexy goddess in the moonlight, hair a little disheveled, breath smelling like alcohol and mint nothing but her bra and her jeans on. He would respect her no matter how hard , literally and mentally, it was for him.

-No no I am not, she insisted.

-A little tipsy yes, but I know exactly what I am saying. It is unfair how you always look so good. How are you so sexy, huh?

A cute chuckle left his lips. She was borderline drunk, she did know what she was saying but the way she said it was preciousless. So innocent, almost whiny. It never ceased to amaze him how she didn’t see her own beauty. To him she was the most beautiful woman he had ever landed his eyes upon. Her smile could light up every room she walked in; so composed and calm yet bold and fierce. She was power and everyone around her could feel it. Hell, he felt it as soon as she looked at him and offered him her lighter in the small beach back in Greece.

But him? He was an idiot and a coward. Mostly the second. He was afraid. Afraid of his own feelings and of the future. He was freshly out of a 5-year relationship when he met her. Their romance was short lived, full of passion and intimacy, just like the Greek summer who brought them together. However it shook him to the core and when he left and returned to Italy it felt as if a piece of his heart was ripped out.

-I can’t do this anymore.

Her husky voice pulled him abruptly from his short trip down the memory lane. When had she moved onto his lap? His hands, as if they had their own mind, had closed around her waist securing her in place. Almost as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold her, she would vanish and all this would prove another beautiful yet painful dream.

-What are you talking about, amore?

The term of endearment seemed to roll off his tongue before he could think about it. Her sharp breath proved that it didn’t go unnoticed by her. How could it? When she had spent as many nights thinking about how it felt to be called love by him. She remembered the warm, fuzzy feeling she would get when he called her that. But it was nothing compared to the look in his eyes, because that was the most enthralling sight she had ever seen. Her favourite pair of brown eyes looking at her with adoration and making her feel so full of emotions that when he would kiss her afterwards she felt like she could explode into fireworks.

-I can’t do this anymore with you, Damiano.

Her voice was barely audible, her eyes cast downwards, avoiding his.

- I can’t keep pretending that I am over you, that you aren’t in my thoughts every single moment, every single day. Each morning I wake up and think about you and each night I go to sleep alone and try not to think how it would be to have you by my side.

She didn’t dare look him in the eyes. She knew that after this there was no going back. Everything was out in the open. Her whole heart in his hands, raw and bleeding, and it would be his decision if he would keep it or throw it away.

Little did she know that his heart was trying to rip his chest at the same time, as if her heart was calling for him and his heart could never say no to her. Never in a million years.

-Amore…

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before she cut him off

-I know. I know, love. I understand. I just need to know…

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Never had she let herself be so vulnerable around someone else. Her biggest insecurity was her biggest secret, hidden deep in her soul and buried away with the unwanted thoughts in her mind. But she was in the arms of her true love, whom she had lost without even knowing why and It seemed like a proper time to let an unwanted thought out. Otherwise, it would eat her alive, she was sure of that by now.

-I need to know why I wasn’t enough.

Tear were glistening in her sad eyes.

-I know that I am not as beautiful, or as skinny or as pretty as her, but I loved you with everything I had.

By now she was full on sobbing.

His eyes were glassy, watching the love of his life doubt herself like that and he knew he was the reason behind it. How could he ever let her feel like not enough? It was him who wasn’t enough, never had been, and that’s why he chose to let her free to find someone better, even though he felt like he had stabbed himself to death. But now he was seeing clearly the consequences of his actions, he had hurt her beyond repair, he had broken her, and for that he would never forgive himself.

-So please tell me, please. Why wasn’t I enou-

She didn’t get to finish her sentence before his lips collided with hers. That was how she felt this whole time? He would show her, he would show her… Of course she kissed him back immediately

The kiss wasn’t gentle and slow as they were back in their secluded paradise in Greece. It was fast, and desperate and sloppy. A clash of teeth, a fight of tongues, a fight for dominance. And when his hands started roaming her body, it was a lost fight for her. His tongue slipped into her mouth caressing her. Her hands found their way into his hair pulling ever so softly and yet it was enough to provoke a deep moan from him. Soon his lips left hers and found their way to her neck, licking and sucking and gently biting her, eliciting small moans from her. Lord, he could hear these sounds every remaining second of his life and he would never grow tired. And when he found that sweet spot bellow her ear with ease like he had done so many times in the past, she couldn’t hold back anymore. She wanted him, she needed him. She unclasped her bra and threw it to the floor or to the couch , it didn’t matter at the moment. Seconds later his shirt was on the pile of clothes on the floor and he was staring at this beautiful goddess in his arms. His goddess, his heart, his amore.

#damiano david x reader #damiano david #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin imagine #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #maneskin

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iggy-licious · 3 years

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One Shot: Tête à Tête

OK... This is super long and super indulgent, but if you want smut, you got it. 😈 Iggy terrorizes a journalist and turns the tables for something much better for both of them. NSFW.

I just finished it, and I can't look at it anymore without going insane. 🤪 Please excuse any writing glitches.

Thank you for reading and going along with my Iggy shenanigans. ❤️❤️❤️

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“You see,” he chuckles softly, “this is why I fucking hate doing interviews.” He tosses his fedora onto a nearby chair, runs a hand through his jet-black, dyed hair, shakes his head in disdain, and fishes his Marlboros and lighter out of his pocket. He leers at me, cigarette hanging onto his pouty bottom lip for dear life, before he lights it. He takes a puff and exhales the smoke in my direction, his mouth gaping slightly in what I could imagine to be a slow, satisfied exhale in a more romantic setting.

But we’re at an impasse, facing off at opposite sides of an overstuffed hotel couch. I made the cardinal sin of asking if The Stooges might ever get back together.

Iggy remains silent and continues to smoke while staring me down. His look is full of slow-simmering anger and curiosity, as if he’s given up on the interview and is studying me to find creative ways to get under my skin.

But little does he know, he’s already succeeded at that.

The man had proved to be a good-natured, but eccentric, raconteur, and I was captivated by his stories and energy earlier. His smoky liner and shadow couldn’t blunt the sparkle in his large eyes when he gushed about the experimental nature of his Zombie Birdhouse album. I had been nervous going into the interview, but he had won me over with his intelligence, passion, and mild flirtation. It was fair to say that I had been in danger of him short-circuiting my professionalism. Him and those eyes, the color of a clear Caribbean lagoon.

But that was then. Now, it's his scornful vibe that holds me in thrall. It screams of the primal unpredictability that was his ace in his old band. This nicotine pause feels like a dam holding back a flood of turbulent emotions. In the current, painful silence, I’m acutely aware that he could roar to life in a second and drown me in a passionate diatribe of words. Or, he could decide he’s bored and kick me out at any time. These thoughts set my heart into overdrive for many reasons, both professional and personal.

He’s studying me with an emotionless poker face, but his eyes feel like they're boring into mine. Large, blue, graced with the pretty eyelashes that most people get from a mascara tube.

His eyes turn out to be his secret weapon. I find myself powerless, waiting for his next words. After our initial discussion I'm surprised he can be anything less than an open book. I silently pray that I’ll come up with something to say, something that draws him in again, something that gets this interview back on track. Something that brings back his lopsided grin and the happy fluttering of infatuated butterflies in my stomach, if I'm being honest with myself.

“Do you smoke?” he asks, lightly pinching the cigarette between his fingers and holding it out to me. He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

I feel like it’s some weird test, the final exam of our time together. Now or never. Do or die.

Lucky for me, I do smoke. “I’ll take it,” I say, realizing how exhausted I feel from the tense minutes that have just transpired. I hope for the best. I can’t afford to blow this interview.

His lips turn upward in a subtle smile as I smoke.

I’ve passed the test.

I suck on the cigarette hard, preferring the party of deadly chemicals in my lungs to the charged air that hung thick in the room a moment before. I close my eyes and exhale. When I open them again, I meet his gaze, which he abruptly drops to my full lips, painted with a red that complements my light brown skin. He inspects the smudge of my lipstick on his cigarette when I return it, before stubbing it out in an ashtray.

“You know,” he says, tracing a finger on the arm of the couch, “I think you’re a good interviewer, a good conversationalist. I’m just tired of the pop culture psychoanalysis bullshit that goes down in these interviews. Do you know what I mean? How about we just talk for a while? About anything.”

“That sounds nice,” I venture. Part of me will look for any opening to steer back to the interview, but part of me certainly doesn’t mind getting to know Iggy better.

He hits the stop button on my tape recorder and then walks to the mini-fridge. “No recording, no journalist, no so-called ‘godfather of punk,’ just you and me and some beers,” he says while setting a six-pack on the coffee table.

I look longingly at my recorder, wondering what juicy confessions I might miss if we talk more informally. I wouldn't dare turn it on, though, while the connection we're rebuilding is so fragile.

Before I can panic, he frees a cold can of Pabst Blue Ribbon from its tight ring of plastic and hands it to me. Then, after he nips into his can, he tells me the story of his first beer and the shenanigans he'd gotten into back in Michigan, before The Stooges. This segues into talk about his favorite German beers and stories of misbehavior in Europe with David Bowie.

Iggy makes me laugh with his cartoon voices and facial expressions. I watch the vaguely man-shaped earring in his right ear dance with the rubber contortions of his face.

With the second beer cans, we’ve moved closer together on the couch, and I’ve taken off my black pumps. I’m thankful that my skin color hides the flush in my cheeks from the fizzy intoxicant.

His jokes get louder and more blue. We're back in a good conversation groove again. I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.

My professional conscience chided me for beer number two, but the wheaty nectar in the third can has drowned out that small voice. Iggy inches closer and tells me about growing up in a trailer. “If you can remember any of this shit, feel free to write about it,” he says. His laughter is a challenge and a taunt.

I will myself to remember, to sear the facts of his life into my brain. These anecdotes are gold, the kinds of things that can add meat to the pitiful skeleton of my story as it stands now.

I’m laughing, and I park my hand on his thigh. The black trousers can't hide the fact that his legs are well muscled from swimming and his onstage moves that defy the range of a normal human body.

Before I can stop myself, I’m slowly trailing my hand up and down his leg.

“Mmm…” He purrs and moves closer, while wrapping an arm around me. He drains the last of his beer and takes mine before I can get a final sip.

Our faces are close, and I see that the blue of his eyes has darkened. I’ve lost myself, drowning in those pretty cobalt pools until he smiles wickedly.

His voice is a murmur. “This is more fun than an interview, isn’t it?”

"You got me there, Iggy," I say. My response comes easy and breathy, thanks to the beer and my simmering lust.

He looks at me fondly. "Call me Jim. Just use Iggy for your story, OK?"

"OK, Jim."

He cradles my face in both of his hands and brushes his lips against mine. Then I surrender to his roving tongue in the same way I hope to similarly give my body to him, now that professional pretense has been shattered by primal desire.

Since I'm off duty now, I take down the ponytail that was taming my curls and allow my hair to fall past my shoulders.

He holds my gaze as a hungry smile spreads on his face and he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. "She's come undone, huh?" He kisses me again, feasting on my mouth with his lips and his sure tongue.

I’ve noticed the bulge in his pants has become bigger, and my mind flashes to all the reports I’ve heard of him whipping his notoriously large cock out during performances. The thought of his boldness, and the thought of exploring his magnificent body, both fan the flames that have caused my core to throb with insatiable hunger.

I pull him to me and unleash my passion with a sinful, lush kiss. My hands stroke his torso, his back, his hair. "Just as I thought…" He says in a hushed tone, "There's a beautiful, wild woman just below the surface. I'm glad to finally meet her." He cups my throat and transfers his electric passion to me through another kiss.

When I pause to help him out of his black leather jacket, his breathing is shallow and his eyes are glazed with need. My body is feverish, anticipating our tryst.

I remove his black t-shirt next, revealing his finely chiseled torso. Newspaper and magazine photos don’t do it justice. I explore his musculature with my hands and delight in the firm, tanned skin.

Then he’s out of his red briefs and the pants in the blink of an eye. I gasp at how perfect he looks--the hard muscles and their sensuous, masculine curves, the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the long torso with marble-etched abs, the slimness of his waist, the swelling of his thighs and ass. It's the graceful, olympic body of a swimmer…or an agile, flexible rock god.

Not to be outdone, his manhood is long, thick, and utterly enticing. I want to savor him as much as I want to be worshipped by him, consumed by his strong passion, filled exquisitely by his largesse.

He lowers me on the couch and in a velvet onslaught of kisses and gropes, he removes my clothes: denim jacket, tight black dress, underwear, and stockings.

His movements are slow and taken with great care as he kisses down my naked body. He is calm, indulgent, masterful. The out-of-control nature of Iggy gives way to a patient, capable lover who revels in the softness of my generous curves.

He straddles me and blazes a lusty trail down my body with his tongue. His hands firmly canvas my breasts and his thumbs then tease my nipples into rigid peaks.

"So soft…" His voice trails as he bathes my nipples with the warmth of his mouth and tongue.

I'm snaking my body against the weight of his, while my hands clutch his back. If I fuck up the interview and lose my job, I know our night together will still be totally worth it.

He releases a nipple with a pop of his lips. "Be patient," he breathes out. "We'll get there."

"Let me guess, it'll be worth the wait?" I ask with an arch of my eyebrow.

"Well, I don't like to brag…"

We lock eyes before the kissing resumes.

His body is warm against mine, and his low, guttural moans punctuate the silence from time to time. Our hands are so curious, so hungry. It's a joy to clutch his powerful back and feel the muscles there side and hitch with each caress he gives me.

"Come with me?" He abruptly stands. He smiles with an expression that's both shy and seductive as he leads me to the bedroom.

The light is on. His suitcase is open and its contents are disturbed, as though he was looking for the right outfit for our encounter. The floral bedspread is a bit wrinkled, and I assume he napped on top of it before I arrived.

We kiss at the side of the bed, in a voracious dance of our lips that still doesn't feel like enough. My need is criminal. I blast the most obscene of intentions to him with my eyes, and he grunts in hungry understanding.

He lowers me to the bed and straddles me. Being held captive by his muscular thighs and his hands framing my face feels natural, an old, unspoken agreement of longtime lovers. The way we delight in each other is instinctual.

I lift my chin to kiss him.

"Later," he says, placing a finger on my lips. "I'll be back."

He crawls down my body and spreads my legs. Then he coaxes a series of unholy moans out of me when he flattens his tongue to my entrance with a series of long ice cream licks, followed by his lips gently sucking on my clit.

My breathing comes shallow. I can't formulate words to relay to him how good the meandering of his tongue feels, but my writhing and wailing cause him to chuckle gentle vibrations against my pussy, so I know he understands.

He keeps a steady rhythm and sets my nerves aflame while my hips jerk with the timing of a metronome. I gasp at the tension building in my body, knowing the climax will be devastating. And when it comes, my body stutters into an exquisite live wire dance.

I'm a sweaty, soaked mess when he informs me that another languid exploration awaits. "I want to make sure you're more than ready," murmurs. This time, it's not a tease, it's a show of care and concern.

He kisses me with my scent before he resumes.

I'm still high from the last orgasm, and I float in the ether as he takes his time. I imagine he must be aching to couple with me, but his actions don't betray his need. The defensive Iggy of the interview is gone, replaced by a tender romantic who keeps looking at me to monitor my satisfaction.

The next climax untethers me from reality, but when he rests a hand on one of my shoulders and slowly guides himself inside of me, I am awakened to now, the universe that consists of the two of us aroused, embraced, and slowly coaxing each other into higher realms of sensation. At last we've found our way to an unbreakable give and take, guided by carnal desire.

His baritone rumbles with whispered words that would've made me blush during the interview. I marvel at how a change of setting, and a change of attitude, makes all the difference.

I clutch his back while our rolling motions lull me into a pleasurable dream state.

His gaze is much softer than it was in the living room, and his eyes sparkle as he looks at me with fondness. I'm treated with the sight of his long eyelashes kissing his face every time he lowers his eyelids. It's nice, knowing that I'm seeing a side of him that few will ever see.

"You're so fucking good Jim," I exhale, working my hips faster to receive more of his expert thrusts. He rewards me by going harder and deeper. My pussy flushes as each stroke takes me higher.

"I'm almost there, too," he groans as his hips crash into mine.

My breath is shallow, and my moans get caught in my throat as we fuck with abandon. The interview is the furthest thing from my mind; my job now is to give as good as I'm getting, and I'm giving it my all. I grab his ass as we pump recklessly.

Before I know it, pleasure radiates out from my core at light speed, and Iggy howls at the strength of his climax. We've both been transformed, faces glistening with sweat and the satisfaction of well spent energy.

He rolls onto his back, and I drape my body over his.

"Incredible," he says while stroking my hair.

He kisses my forehead and dons his eyeglasses, which were on his dresser, hiding to avoid betraying the soft nerd inside the fearless musician. "Now, back to business, doll. I'll let you finish the interview if I can ask you some questions first. For starters, where are you from?"

My heart is still racing from our steamy actions, but it skips a beat when I realize I will get my story and not lose my job.

I giggle and trace a finger on his chest before I start telling him the story of my life.

#iggy pop #classic rock #punk #the stooges #80s #one shot #my writing #short fiction #fan fiction

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arse-crack-thistle · 3 years

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physical touch

rwrb and the five love languages | part three

in which a young ellen and oscar make a life-altering decision

The sun boils Ellen Claremont and Oscar Diaz as they stand outside Marlene’s Diner. Even in December, the Texas heat shows no mercy. The parking lot is full of cars for the lunch rush, and as much as her manager hates it, Ellen had to take her fifteen now. Oscar is on his way home.

Seems like yesterday he and a bunch of his white-collared buddies popped into Marlene’s and sat down at a table in Ellen’s section, but it was eight months ago. She thought she was about to get catcalled and a two-penny tip, but instead she gave the table advice on how to help David Morwitz, an Austin democratic candidate for state representative, gain more votes among young people. And Oscar wouldn’t leave until he got her number—for political reasons of course. That is until she made out with him after a Young Texas Democrats rally and he discovered the blue bonnet tattoo on her lower back.

He was fresh out of law school, hoping to build his political resume so he could run for office one day, and she was just finishing up her second year, living on tips and volunteering where she could. And, like all young lovers, they spent the whole summer and fall talking about their hopes and fears, their darkest secrets and greatest dreams.

“The Supreme Court, eh? One of the justices?”

“No,” she told him, “I just want to argue a case there. Set precedent.”

He smiled, showing off that goddamn dimple on his cheek. “You could go farther—the highest point even.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m looking to help the little guy, Diaz. I can do that anywhere.”

“Then why not the presidency?” When she scoffed, he said, “Fuck you, I’m serious. I’ve seen you in action, Claremont. The protest you organized for the clinic they shut down? You’re incredible.”

That moment hugs her as she struggles to let go of Oscar’s hands. They’re rough from the field work he did in high school but also calloused from his guitar. She spent months learning the lines on his hands; she can draw them from memory, as he can with the curves of her hips.

His flight leaves in two hours. Ellen will have to watch the blue sky for planes, imagining him soaring away with his Walkman playing a worn-out Latin tape. Maybe if Morwitz won, things could be different.

But they’re not. She’s still filling coffee cups and handing out “yes, ma’ams” and “yes, sirs” like they’re pocket change. And he’s still going back to California to join an immigration law firm.

“Claremont,” he starts, “I don’t know what to say. These past few months—”

“I know,” she says. Lord, do not let her bawl in front of this man—not like she hasn’t before when the anniversary of her mother’s death came around. But still, she’s got to leave him with the image of the take-no-shit, strawberry-blond fireball she is.

They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment. God, she’ll never forget this man even if she tries. His curly black hair swoops over his eyebrows and behind his ears. His sleeves seem permanently rolled up, his tie loosened. Oscar somehow carries the lackadaisical Cali-boy in his smile and the strength against generational oppression in his eyes. The sorrow of goodbye shows in his drooping shoulders. Ellen knows she can set them straight with one kiss on the lips and a hand somewhere else.

Instead, she drops his hands and looks away.

“Ask me to stay,” Oscar says, reaching for her waist.

Ellen can’t bear to look into his warm, brown eyes and tell him to go. She puts her hands on his chest and feels his heart beating under them. His beautiful, fighting heart. “I won’t do that, Diaz. If the situation were reversed, I’d slap you for suggesting it.”

He pulls her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “The situation’s not reversed, Ellen. Ask me to stay.”

Lord, every time her first name rolls off his tongue electricity shoots down her back, and now it meets the lightning rod that is his hand on her tattoo. It takes everything in her not to jump him in this parking lot. Damn the cars driving past them. Damn the diner patrons watching through the windows. Damn the Bible-thumper preaching from the street corner. The world should stop for her goodbye to the man that shocks her too her very core with one touch.

“Oscar.”

“Ellen.”

His forehead presses into hers, and his hand meets the other on the small of her back. She can’t help but wrap her arms around his neck, like they’re about to sway to an overrated pop song at a high school dance. He smells like he always does: cheap cologne and sweat, and holding him—being held by him—feels like taking a wrong turn on the drive home just so you can finish your favorite song.

“You don’t want me to leave, right?” Oscar asks.

“No, but this is crazy. You can’t stay here. What would you do? What would we do?”

Favorite song—favorite person be damned, too. Hasn’t it crossed his mind that his life can’t just transfer to Texas? The campaign is over, and his family and career are back in California. He’s being stupid, and she’s letting him.

Touching him makes her irrational, so Ellen lets go and steps back. “I mean, Lord help us, Diaz! Have you even thought about this?”

“What’s there more to think about? I love you and you love me! We’ll figure out the rest.”

“Oh, do not give me that ‘love conquers all’ bullshit! You’re smarter than that!” she says.

Her fifteen has got to be over by now, but fuck it. Her manager can wait. She’ll stand her and scream at Oscar; she’s developed quite an affinity for it. God bless him.

“Maybe it does—”

“Bull-fucking-sh—”

“No!” He grabs her hands, and she doesn’t fight it. “With all the shit we’ve been through, can’t you see it’s brought us here? Right now, Claremont. You and me. We’ve got something; we want the same things. Let’s do it. Come on, Ellen, let’s just fucking do it!”

And he kisses her. It’s not desperate, but gentle and resolute. Her hands find the nape of his neck again, and she tangles her fingers in his soft curls. Sunflowers bloom in her belly. Oscar squeezes her hips in his hands. Sweet baby Jesus. She can’t let him go. She’ll have to kill him first.

He pulls away—only a centimeter or two—and says again, “Ask me to stay.”

Eight months of this shit. Eight months of diner banter and canvassing and takeout movie nights and fucking in his motel room or her tiny-ass apartment or one of their cars. Eight months of law school papers and screaming matches and tequila and talking for hours until one of them crashes and the other cuddles up to fall asleep. Eight months of hands—his and hers—intertwined like they’re holding the Earth together.

“Stay,” she whispers. A car blares its horn, so she barely hears herself say it. But she does.

“Stay with me, and we’ll change the fucking world.”

As stubborn as she is, so is he. They match in some weird way, and Ellen can’t remember the last time she found a person like that. Fucking Oscar Fucking Diaz. She’ll get on her knees for him or step on his neck if he asks nicely enough. She’ll spend hours critiquing his debate strategies or peering over his shoulder while he proofs one of her assignments. She’ll bake him peach cobbler or devour his mole and anything it touches. Oscar’ll play the guitar, and she’ll sing along.

“Good because I already accepted a job with Representative Acosta. He’s from 54.”

“Fuck you!” Frustrated, angry, and smiling, Ellen shoves his shoulders. “I know where he’s goddamn from! But what the hell were you pulling my leg that far for?”

He puts on that Diaz smirk and trails a finger down her hip. “Pretty legs though.”

“I’ll fry you up and serve you for dinner if you ain’t careful,” she deadpans.

“Promise?” Oh, good Lord.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Ellen grabs his jaw, rubs a finger over that fucking dimple, and pulls him to her lips.

“I do,” she says.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part two, part four, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

so yeah it’s fairly obvious that i have a hard time keeping to a schedule BUT i think this turned out very cute (even if it’s not actually set during valentine’s) and even if i go past v-day, which will probably happen, i’m determined to finish romance week! anyways, thanks for all of your support! <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

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kallypsowrites · 3 years

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Shadow and Bone thoughts

Well, I’ve wrapped up my liveblog of the chapters so it’s time to give final thoughts:

Over all, it’s a strong book. It falls into a lot of YA fantasy tropes but I think it does all of those tropes really well, so while it might not be bursting with originality, it’s well written and well paced.

Alina is a likeable heroine. She’s funny. She’s determined. She’s willing to go hard for those she loves. I think she could have been given a bit more in the way of skills and hobbies before getting her powers which make her special. But ultimately I think her arc is strong and I like being in her head, which is crucial in a first person point of view.

In the way of side characters, there are some solid standouts. Genya is probably my favorite of them as she’s given the most depth of character out of the love triangle. I love Baghra as well. Even small characters like David and Ivan have their moments which intrigue me. I think Zoya is thus far the least developed and the most one dimensional. I know she gets better later but she honestly didn’t feel needed in this book. She just showed up to be jealous at Alina and did nothing to effect the plot so...*shrug*. I think we could have held off on her.

Regarding our two love interests, I think it’s pretty clear which one I prefer, but I will do a service to Mal: I see his appeal. He’s got a lot of good lines. There are moments with Alina that are nice. It’s a childhood friends to lovers thing which isn’t my fave, but I get it. I’m just not particularly invested in his character and oof, his scene with her in chapter 14 is rough. Regardless of him apologizing for it later, that kind of hard core poisoned me against him for a time so he was working at a deficit to get me to like him again. I think he could have been written to be jealous without saying some of those things. But I also think some of his lines just got under my skin in a personal way.

The Darkling is...great. And listen, I know. I KNOW he’s a bad guy. I promise. No one needs to educate me on what is toxic. But his chemistry with Alina is *chefs kiss* and even when the other shoe drops, they are such great foils to each other. They way they reveal things about each other, push each other in their own arcs. I really look forward to seeing their dynamic going forward in the rest of the books. And look, sometimes evil guys are sexy. Especially when they’re going to be played by Ben Barnes. And that’s all the reason I need.

That being said I OF COURSE am glad at Alina’s decision. Any dynamic they have is improved by her being his equal and not his slave. That’s the sort of thing I look forward to seeing. I know it won’t happen, but I’d love to see some ‘Alina goes dark’ fics. Lots of great potential in that.

At the end of the day, Leigh Bardugo is a good story teller and a good writer. I probably prefer Six of Crows to this over all, but this still has a lot of great characters and I’m looking forward to seeing it brought to life!

#s&b liveblog #grishaverse #shadow and bone #darklina #the darkling #alina starkov

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vsquadgoals · 4 years

Note

ok but like... reader cheating on her boyfriend with todd? 👀 idk if ur down to write that bc it’s kinda bad but it’s also low key... a vibe

A vibe hahahha love that

*******

Y/n was at Scott’s house with Zane, Todd, Heath, Mariah, and Jay and they were all waiting for David to come pick them up to go to Saddle Ranch, they went at lease once and a week and David loved it because it was good for his vlog. Y/n was pacing in Scott’s back yard on the phone with her boyfriend. “Evan... You’re flipping out for no reason, we’re going to friggin saddle ranch I don’t get what your issue is.” She said sighing, they had been on the phone for 10 minutes already and he hasn’t stopped yelling at her about her outfit. She was wearing a lace top, tight black leather pants, her Gucci belt and a pair of heeled booties.

Sure the outfit was revealing but it wasn’t much different from what her and Corinna always wore when they went out, the issue was that he didn’t want to come but he barely ever hung out with her and her friends. “Grow up Evan. I’m going out with my friends like I do every week its not my fault that you would rather sit at home and play your stupid video games.” Todd opens the back door and looks at her smiling. “Y/n/n, Dave’s here we gotta head out.” He calls nodding his head toward the house. She sighs and nods. “Listen I don’t have time to argue with you about this, lets just agree to disagree. I have to go David’s here. Bye.” She hangs up before he can yell at her anymore. “Everything okay?” Todd asks before she can slip past him into the house. “Hes just being ridiculous, he saw the picture I posted on my story (A/n: Picture above.) and is now flipping out about my outfit.” Todd looks her up and down which hes been doing all night since she first walked into Scott’s house tonight. “I can’t really blame him you look hot.” She rolls her eyes and hits his chest playfully. “Alright lover boy lets go before David leaves us here.” Todd follows her out to the Tesla watching her ass biting his lip, fuck he mumbles under his breath.

Y/n is at the bar in Saddle ranch with Zane waiting for their drinks. “So how are you and Evan doing?” Zane asks causing her to roll your eyes. “I thought they were good but now he’s getting jealous and barely wants me to go out with you guys.” Zane shook his head. “Fuck him, Lets just have fun tonight and get fucked up!” Zane chants taking the drinks from the bartender she takes it from him and they both practically chug them. Corinna runs over and grabs her hand, “Lets dance y/n/n!” She yells over the music dragging her to the dance floor. Todd is leaning against the wall talking to Scott but his eyes are on y/n dancing with Corinna, he wished that he was the one she is grinding against. Scott waved his hand in front of Todd’s face snapping him out of his thoughts. “dude, She’s dating someone.” He reminds him. Todd sighs, “yeah but its not going good right now.” Scott rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t mean anything Todd.” Scott says sighing.

By this point y/n definitely feeling the alcohol and all she wants do is dance but Corinna is tucked in the corner of the bar talking to some guy. Y/n sighs before seeing Todd sitting with his back against the bar looking around the room watching his friends. Once she gets over to him shes standing in between his legs wrapping her arms around his neck, she smiles at Scott who’s sitting next to Todd with his drink in hand. “Hey Y/n” Scott says shaking his head chuckling a bit. Todd’s hands go right to her hips. “You want another drink?” Todd asks pulling her attention back to him. She turns back to him leaning closer into his touch shaking her head. “I wanna dance but no one will dance with me.” y/n pouts winking at Todd who is now smirking at her. “I’ll dance with you, come on.” He says standing, she grabs his hand happily pulling him toward the dance floor. Todd looks back at Scott and winks.

Y/n turns her back to Todd and he wraps his arm around her waist pulling her closer to him, she bites her lip and starts dancing against him moving along with the music. She reaches back putting her hand on the back of Todd’s neck as they dance, he leans down his lips brushing over her bare shoulder and then her ear. “happy?” He asks breathing against her ear. His lips against her skin was making her core ache, She bit her lip and nodded looking over her shoulder at him. The longer they danced like this the more she ached for him and the sluttier she got grinding against him.

David made his way over to the two. “We’re heading out come on guys.” He yelled over the music. They both nodded, Todd kept his arm around her waist as they headed out of the bar and to David’s tesla. David dropped them off at Scott’s, she looks at Todd once they were in his drive way and David pulled away. “Can you drive me home?” She asks biting her lip, “I don’t think I should drive.” Todd nods, “Yeah of course, get in the car I’ll just let Scott know I’m leaving.” She smiles and kisses his check before climbing in his passenger seat. Todd runs inside. “Hey, I’m gonna head out and give Y/n a ride home, shes had too much to drink. She said she’ll pick up her car tomorrow.” Scott looked at Todd for a second before sighing. “Alright buddy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Todd reached over and put his hand on her thigh while he drove toward her house, She was looking on her phone for another song to put on. Once she found one she put her phone down and smirked at Todd biting her lip. “Thanks again Toddy, I owe you one.” She said over the music, Todd shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not going to make you take an uber by yourself at 2 am.” She leans over and kisses his cheek. “I’m sure you could think of something I could do to repay you.” She whispers into his ear as they pull into her driveway. She undid her seatbelt and got out of the car, when Todd didn’t get out of the car right away she peaked her head back inside. “coming?” She asks before closing the door and taking out her keys from her purse. Todd took a deep breath before getting out of the car and following her inside, he knew this was wrong but he couldn’t help himself, hes been trying to get his hands on her since they met.

Y/n kicked off her shoes at the door after she closed the door behind Todd locking it. “Do you want a drink?” She asks putting her keys and purse on the table, Todd shook his head before wrapping his arms around her waist from behind kissing her shoulder. Y/n tilted her head to the side and leans back against him humming happily. “Where’s your room?” He mumbles against her silky skin, she bit her lip before taking his hand and guiding him upstairs to her bedroom. She closes the door behind them and turns toward Todd biting her lip. She grabs his hips walking backwards she turns them around and pushes him onto her bed, she climbs on top of him straddling his waist. “Is this okay?” She asks leaning down hovering her lips over his. “Yes.” he mumbles before grabbing her hair pulling her closer crashing his lips onto hers. Y/n runs her tongue along his bottom lip, he opens his mouth slightly granting her tongue entrance, she moans into his mouth feeling his hard member between her legs.

“Fuck.” Todd breathes when she starts grinding her hips against his, she reaches her hands under his shirt pulling it over his head throwing it onto the floor. Todd sits up wrapping his arms around her waist and kisses down her neck slowly causing a small moan to leave her lips. He reaches up and moves the cup of her lace top releasing both of her breasts, he sighs happily before taking her nipple into his mouth swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud and sucking lightly. She moans softly, Todd stands up holding her and turns placing her onto the bed and crawls ontop of her. He undoes her belt and slips her pants off slowly and then her top. He stands over her biting his lip. “Fuck, No panties?” Todd groans, Y/n smiles at him sitting up undoing his pants slipping them down his legs along with his boxers.

Todd climbs ontop of her and lines himself up pushing his cock into her dripping wet folds and into her tight hole. “Fuuuuck.” He groans closing his eyes, he waits a second letting her adjust before he starts thrusting into her quickly. Y/n wraps her legs around his waist moaning under him, she reaches up putting her hand behind his neck pulling their lips together. She kisses him hard nibbling on his lip every so often. Todd pulls one of her legs over his shoulder thrusting into her faster, Y/n tugs lightly on his hair and suddenly shes a moaning mess and hes thrusting against all the right spots. “Fuck Toddy!!! You’re going to make me cum!” She moans arching her back, Todd smirks and pushes into her harder. “That’s right, cum for me baby.” He groans his movements getting sloppy as he neared his release as well. Y/n clawed her nails down his back moaning his name loudly cumming around his cock, Todd follows right behind her releasing inside of her. He rolls off of her laying next to her trying to catch his breath, “Fuck Toddy, that was amazing.” She said looking over at him biting her lip. Todd smirks and leans over peppering kisses on her lips pulling the blankets over their naked bodies. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He wrapped his arms around her and they laid there for a while catching their breath smiles on their faces. They both were almost asleep holding each other when suddenly her bedroom door was being slammed open. “What the fuck is going on here?!” The two of them shot up to see Y/n’s boyfriend standing in the door way. “Fuck.” She mumbled.

#toddy smith #toddy smith x reader #toddy smith fanfic #toddy smith imagine #toddy smith smut #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad fanfic #vlog squad smut

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viogsquad · 5 years

Text

late night texts - david dobrik

authors note; first time posting smut on this account so please be kind lmao! feedback is appreciated so please send it through if you want because it means the world to me. word count; 2.6k warnings; oral, dom!david.

There was something dangerous about David’s charm, his ability to have you running over to his house whenever he wanted something you had tried to withstand many times, knowing full well that he only wanted you because he was busy editing and needed some comfort when the sky turned dark and the streets of LA became quieter. His begging would start with sweet texts where he expressed how much he missed you and you knew that meant that he missed your mouth.

Like the fool you were, you would be over at David’s house as soon as possible, not even bothering to knock as you walked straight through to the living room and saw the sight you came across most nights. It was at this time at night when David looked most attractive you thought, his hair pushed back and stuck in a beautiful mess, practically begging your hands to run through it, his lips formed into a pout as he watched over the same clip of footage repeatedly, the hoodie he was wearing oversized and looking ever so comfy.

You took a few moments to watch him, somewhat finding it hard to believe that someone so innocent and sweet looking could effortlessly have you pinned to the wall with a hand around your throat as he whispered the most sinful of words into your ears. Then there were the times when he would be completely at your beck and call, his hands tied to the headboard as he allowed you to take complete control of his body and mind, bringing him a new kind of pleasure he had never felt with another woman.

“Going to kept staring at me or are you going to come over here and suck my cock?” David suddenly asked, his eyes not moving from the computer screen as he tried to cut down a clip so it would perfectly fit into his video.

You jumped back at David’s voice before turning your face into a frown as you walked behind him and lightly slapped him on the shoulder. “Is that all you want me for?” you joked, one hand running along David’s shoulder and down to his chest, the other resting on his throat which you softly comforted with the pads of your fingers. “Anyone would think that you use me for my mouth and my mouth only.”

“I’ll buy you something pretty,” he suggested, knowing full well that he didn’t need to spend any money on you when you were more than willing to submit to David’s needs, just like he would always go rushing over to yours when you texted him at three in the morning on days that didn’t require an upload.

It was the way it had been for months and it was how you planned on keeping it. The fun of sneaking around without the pressures that came from having a relationship in the public eye was something you adored. It was your chance to have David alone without having to share him with other people and the rest of social media. It was yours and his secret, covert meetings and sweet nothings exchanged in the privacy of either your bedroom or his, the words you spoke never leaving the room or appearing in the presence of others.

“I’m sure you will,” you wondered, your thumb gracefully passing along his chin until David leaned his head down slowly and pressed his lips against the skin. “How about you help me out?”

You moved your hands-off David and strolled around to the other side of the sofa, his eyes finally leaving the computer screen as he watched your body sink down next to his, your hands grabbing the edge of the laptop and placing it on the coffee table. “What do you think you're doing?” he asked, shifting his body slightly so he could look you over. “I need to upload within the hour.”

“Come on,” you whispered, lips pressing against David’s cheek and down towards his jaw. “Just give me what I desire and I promise that I will do whatever you want when you’ve finished editing.”

With your hair wrapped around his fingers, David dragged you back slightly so you were face-to-face, a sardonic smirk plastered onto his face that told you that you were in for it. “Where do you want me?” he asked, not taking much convincing when your voice was as seductive as it was and when you looked as beautiful as you did.

“Lay down,” you told him, standing up for a moment so David could get himself in the right position. “Good boy,” you praised as you attempted to switch the roles and become the dominant one. Your eyes never left David’s as you straddle his thighs, your hands running along his clothed chest a few times before your fingers moved up to his mouth.

As sensually as you could make it, you placed your thumb against David’s mouth and dragged his bottom lip down slightly as you smirked down at him. Planning to go further, you attempted to slide your thumb inside of David’s mouth and onto his warm tongue but with swift motions, David’s large hands was wrapped around your small wrist, stilling and shocking you.

“Don’t start thinking that you are in charge because you aren’t, sweetheart,” he purred, soothing your skin with his fingers. “Now, get up here because I am desperate to taste you.”

Gulping, you began your journey up David’s body, your mouth itching to kiss every inch of his neck that was exposed to you, the glow that blessed his skin glamorous and appealing. The look of hunger in David’s eyes shot straight to your core, the need for his mouth on you growing stronger with every stare as he waited patiently for you to get yourself sorted out. Like always though, you were a tease who goes a rise out of seeing David slowly become more tormented, his cock growing at the sight of you slipping the dress you had thrown on off your body and onto the floor below like it was nothing. The lack of underwear had David’s eyes rolling back, his hips bucking as he tried to create some friction but your hand pressing against his clothed stomach had him groaning.

“I am in charge,” you finally responded, slapping David’s hand away when he attempted to grip your waist and drag you closer.

Moving your hips along David’s clothed cock, you almost came there and then from how hard he was. Curse words slipped from your mouth as you leaned forward and flattened your palms against David’s hoodie. David’s bottom lip was between his teeth as he watched you carefully move along his joggers, your wetness leaving a mark in its wake as your face scrunched up in pleasure at the sound of David’s own soft moans.

“Up here,” he managed to say, still attempting to grasp onto the tiny bit of dominance that he had. Ignoring his words that were broken up and breathless, you applied more pressure and rolled your hips at a faster pace. “I said, up here,” he said, his tone putting you straight back into your place. “This is your last chance otherwise I’ll leave you alone in this room and go and edit somewhere else, leave you begging for me for a few more hours, yeah?”

Nodding your head, you were silent as you finally made your way up David’s body, both of your hands pressed against the arm of the sofa that was behind David’s head. David made himself more comfortable on the sofa and tried to remain calm, already knowing that he wanted to remember this and not rush it in the slightest. It had been a while since the two of you had been together sexually, work commitments getting in the way of the private time that you spent together when everyone had gone back to their own homes. To David, there was no greater sight in the world than seeing you come undone because of his touch and if he could have you liked that every single day, he would.

David’s hands gripped your thighs as he delved in, not giving you a chance to prepare yourself for what was to come. You jumped forward as you mouth parted into a perfect circle, no sound escaping as your fingernails dug into the arm of the sofa for dear life. Your thighs squeezed against the side of David’s face as you moved in sync with his tongue, your hips rolling against the wetness of his tongue a few times before he squeezed your thighs harshly as a reminder that he was in charge like he had first announced and you didn’t get to call the shots despite attempting too.

Looking down, you moaned purely from the sight of your secret lover. His hair was teasing the inside of your thighs, practically longing to be pulled on as your orgasm washed over your body but you kept your hands where they were, not wanting to torment David anymore. Your head was thrown back as you whispered David’s name repeatedly, your voice becoming higher with every syllable before breaking up into a loud moan that echoed around the living room. David’s tongue flicking against your clit were becoming more distressed, the humming from his own moans causing you to lift your thighs up slightly, a small giggle escaping you when David dragged you back down and placed you were you belonged.

You knew the rule of no touching during moments like this but the temptation was strong. You knew David well enough to know that he already had a punishment lined up in his head for when you decided to defy him and go against the rules that you had both placed there. It was a known fact between the two of you that the rules were pointless, both of you breaking them whenever you wanted simply because you both loved the idea of punishments. Disobedience was running through your body like wildfire and the sound of being punished for going against one of David’s rule was not unpleasant at all, especially after some time away from his touch.

“Do you like that?” David asked, pulling away from a quick moment before going straight back in again, his brown locks tickling your thighs as he swirled his tongue around your clit.

You could barely think, let alone speak. The feeling of the expensive, and frankly overpriced, cold rings on David’s fingers that were pressing against your skin just reminded you of the last time you had disobeyed him and how harsh they had felt against your bare skin. Thankfully, David didn’t need any words from you. He could tell how you were feeling from the expression on your face and the whimpers that slipped from your swollen lips every time he hit the right spot.

“I’ll do this every day for you if you want, doll.”

Losing all sense of control when David returned his mouth to your core, you decided that it was time to play with the devil and get what you had been craving for almost two weeks out of the man. Pushing your hand in between your thighs, you gripped David’s hair and tugged softly, his own breath halting for a quick second as he looked up at you and warned you with only his eyes. You glared back at him and tilted your head to the side, the cocky side of you that only came out during sexual encounters finally coming out to play.

David lapped up your wetness, his tongue working quicker against you whenever you pulled at his hair with more force. All he could focus on was how good your hands would feel wrapped around the girth of his cock rather than his hair, your touch the one thing that he desired the most.

With the little bit of willpower, you had left, you lifted your hips up so you could fully look down at David, your eyes rolling back and a moan coming from you at the sight of his cock. His eyes were darker than normal and his mouth and chin were soaked with your arousal which was quickly gathered up with David’s tongue so he could taste you all over again. The hum of appreciation from David causing a flutter in your stomach.

“God, you best get ready for later on,” he said, words promising not threatening. David pressed the pad of his thumb onto your clit and swirled it around in soft circles, your wetness dripping down and past the Cartier ring. With David’s words, you decided that enough was enough and you placed your hands back on the sofa so you could get some sort of approval but the shaking of David’s head had you confused. “Leave them there and pull harder, please.”

Pulling you down so you were flat against his face, David’s tongue entered you in a needy way as he tasted every inch of you. The sound of your wetness, moans and whimpers, along with David’s own sounds of pleasure was all that could be heard in the room and you were thankful that Natalie was not in. Pulling David’s hair and moving your hips along his face only encouraged him to go faster and bring you to your peak quicker than he had planned. You were almost positive that bruises would be left along your hips and thighs by the time David had finished but that didn’t matter to you, there would be plenty more littered along your body by the time the sun came up.

“Are you going to cum for me, darling?” David asked, giving himself a few seconds to collect himself whilst also looking up at your face just to double-check that you were okay, your wellbeing coming before anything else. “Answer me, please.”

His voice was too calm for your liking and it frightened and excited you at the same time. “I’m close,” you whispered, your faux sad and pretty eyes looking down at David in hopes that he would be nicer with you and bring you to your peak, you should have known better than to believe that. You moved back down and tugged on David’s hair, the series of whimpers and moans from David as he brought you closer to the edge had you truly believing that he would take pity and make you come but as soon as the burning feeling started in your stomach and your legs began to shake, David was pushing you away to the other end of the sofa.

“David, come on,” you groaned, body weak as you attempted to climb up his body but all he did was push you back down and smirk. You suddenly regretted wanting to be punished. “Do you want to come first? Is that it? I’ll suck your cock, Dave, I will - “you cut yourself off as you sunk to the ground, your knees banging against the wooden floor as you watched David sit up and move around wordlessly.

There was a deviance to his glistening mouth as he watched you attempt to drag down his joggers, a grin on his face when you finally realised. “I’ve already had my release, doll,” he said as sat up slightly and grabbed your hand. “All because of these pretty little hands in my hair and the moans that you let out,” he whispered against your knuckles, delicate kisses pressed into the skin.

“Didn’t even let me have a taste, how rude,” you replied as you applied pressure to David’s cock, hoping that it would stir something up within him. “Let me have come please, I’m begging.”

David chuckled before leaning over your body and grabbing his laptop. “I will do as soon as I’ve finished editing, over and over and over again until you can’t take no more.”

#david dobrik smut #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik x reader #vlog squad smut #vlog squad imagine

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yourfanvivitran · 4 years

Photo

It should come as no surprise that John Carpenter and Dan O’Bannon were students in the same film class, that they created Dark Star together, and that they both had a great affinity for 1951’s The Thing From Another World. If you put Ridley Scott’s Alien, which O’Bannon wrote, next to Carpenter’s The Thing, the parallels cannot be contended. A group of people, bound together almost exclusively by their careers, are isolated and trapped in their own environment with a murderous monster. One by one, they are picked off by this alien beast and are forced to pull out all the stops just to survive. The tension in both movies is suffocating. The suspense stays well after the credits roll.

So, why did Alien excel and why did The Thing fail?

Alien was heralded as a science fiction-horror masterpiece, raking in over $200 million at the box office. The Thing, although now recognized as one of Carpenter’s best films to rival even the likes of Halloween, barely exceeded its $15 million budget by $4 million. What’s more is that critics panned The Thing almost unanimously after its 1982 release. And to what point?

When you compare the 2 movies, it objectively doesn’t make much sense. When you sit down and watch The Thing, without even thinking of its much more popular predecessor, it still doesn’t quite add up. There is not much I can say about The Thing that hasn’t already been said before. It’s well-known, now - the writing, the acting, the practical effects, the cinematography? Masterfully done. No arguments. So what went wrong?

The most popularly accepted explanation was that it just wasn’t the right year for it. In 1982, The Thing had to contend with the Summer of Spielberg, being critiqued alongside horror giant Poltergeist and science fiction treasure E.T. How could a stark and grim story of distrust and gore stand alongside such beloved classics?

But in tandem with these films and also calling back to the success of Alien, Carpenter cites reception from various focus groups: they hated the ending.

It should be assumed at this point that if you have not yet seen The Thing, you are sorely missing out. All the same, however, be wary of spoilers.

The end of The Thing is bitter, to put it lightly. Childs (Keith David) trudges through Antarctic snow, lit by the burning wreckage of Outpost 31, towards R.J. MacReady (Kurt Russel) who sits alone, already half buried. They observe their inevitable deaths, and drink to the supposed demise of their shapeshifting predator.

A lot is left out to die in the snow.

According to Carpenter, this ending was seen by test audiences as too dismal. And rightfully so, when you take into consideration the other popular releases of 1982. Carol Anne is ultimately saved, along with the rest of her family, at the end of Poltergeist. Elliot embraces E.T. before he finally returns home. And going further back, even Ripley is able to escape the xenomorph by the skin of her teeth and secure herself the title as one of the greatest “Final Girls” ever put to the silver screen.

And what of MacReady and Childs?

Well, that’s up to your imagination, Carpenter told a test audience member who asked who the final host was at the end of the movie.

“Oh, god. I hate that,” they responded.

As a writer, this loose ends style of concluding a story is almost expected from a lot of modern works. It’s written this way in order to haunt the reader, to linger and adhere itself to the real world in the most sardonic of ways. Think Joyce Carol Oates’s “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” or Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man Is Hard to Find.” This almost anticlimactic close of the curtain arrived in the literary world long before it found its place in film, but it’s a big point of contention in mainstream criticism.

Dark or incomplete conclusions have been met with the most scathing of responses. Beware the black cutaway of Sopranos fame. Or the near-universal outcry against the third Mass Effect game that grew so much, the developers created a morsel of DLC content that maybe kind of confirmed a more optimistic fate for our dear Shepard.

But even for the horror genre, The Thing seemed unprecedented. The only fate darker to fall upon a mainstream protagonist was Ben’s untimely death in Night of the Living Dead. The tragedy of both movies is palpable - all this trouble to survive against inhuman killers, all this trouble to outlive something gruesome and maybe even make the world a better place, and what was left to show for it?

In short, Carpenter’s science fiction terror was too much of a bummer.

I personally did not take much of a liking to horror until much later in life. My parents didn’t filter the media I consumed as much as they probably should have, and I was scarred early on by movies as cheesy and entertaining as The Lost Boys and Blade. It wasn’t until late adolescence and into college that I set out to catch up.

My roommate at the time of this resolution had been a fan of horror her whole life, her favorites being Halloween, Candyman, and The Thing. Having already known a good deal about the former two, I decided to strap in for The Thing for the first time ever.

These days, I always have several soap boxes on retainer, just waiting for the next unwitting recipient of my usually-beer-induced rants. Brian Jones was killed, Jaws single handedly endangered sharks, banning books is a stupid practice, representation in media is important, etc. Predictably, one of these soap boxes is the general lack of appreciation of The Thing, both at the time of its release and today (it does not even make the top 100 on Rotten Tomatoes’s highest rated horror movies).

And yet, at the same time, if The Thing had achieved the credit it deserved upon release, I may not like it as much as I do today.

I make a point to not read too much about movies I am feverishly anticipating, and revel in the feeling of going into a well-known movie knowing as little as possible. Most of the time, it makes for the best viewing experience, but I’m sure I don’t even have to point this out.

This was my experience seeing The Thing for the first time. I was on winter break, staying at my parents’ house for the holidays. Everyone else had gone to bed, and I stayed up late in the living room, curled up under layers of blankets, content in perfect darkness save for the television.

I had no idea what to expect, as I had not been spoiled by any TV show making any blatant references and had not done any prior reading into the film itself. And I was absolutely delighted from beginning to end.

What stays with me the most is the special effects. It’s true what they say - that practical effects hold up better than CGI alone. And the production team didn’t cut any corners in this department. Stan Winston and his team, who were later responsible for the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, helped construct one of the best animatronics in the movie. Rob Bottin, who brought this constantly-morphing creature to life from conception to every last slimy detail, went on to be hailed as a genius in his special effects career. And there is definitely something to be said for the work of cinematographer Dean Cundey whose masterful control of lighting and framing is best seen in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

The extent of my knowledge of the titular creature was that it was an alien. That it was an alien who could consume multiple life forms and take on their shapes was both exciting and terrifying. There’s creative genius in this premise that thrills the science fiction lover in me, and also fascinates the bookworm in me. I had been a fan of Agatha Christie novels as a teenager, and to see a new and outrageous take on the And Then There Were None structure was incredibly novel to me.

The appeal wasn’t just that there was something out there, lying in wait to torturously pick off it’s victims one-by-one. It was that it could have been anyone.

At its core, horror as we know it has deep roots in whodunnit style murder mystery. With the rise of the giallo and the sensation of the slasher, horror movies of this nature are far from uncommon and can be seen as late as 1996 with the Scream franchise. Carpenter himself spurned a new kind of fear with his breakout success with Halloween by refusing to give a bodily face to its main antagonist. Here, with The Thing, he takes the eponymous killer character to the next level by giving it the genetically inherent function of deceiving its prey. Not knowing the true face of your murderer has proven to be inherently bone-chilling.

Even now, hundreds of horror movies under my belt later and still constantly learning, I keep coming back to The Thing. I really cannot think of another movie in my wide array of favorites that I love more than The Thing, and I truly believe it has everything to do with me not knowing anything about it upon my first viewing. Every other movie I can name on my (similar to the subject) constantly changing top 10 list of most beloved horror flicks was, at some point, spoiled for me in some capacity.

Think of how often the twins in The Shining are referenced in cartoons, of all the head spinning jokes made in reference to The Exorcist. Anthony Hopkins’s portrayal of Hannibal Lector in Silence of the Lambs has become so infamous, that I knew his dialogue (and Buffalo Bill’s) long before I ever saw the movie in full.

I don’t blame these references for ruining these movies. As a super fan, I understand that compulsion to pay tribute. It’s no one’s fault and to their credit that these films take lives of their own. But the repercussions don’t age well in terms of initial viewing experiences.

All that being said, I truly cherish how much I was not exposed to this movie. The unpredictability of the creature and the quiet, looming despair that comes with it create a horror unlike any other.

Although it was a box office flop, The Thing is now a welcome and praised name in both science fiction and horror. Even Quentin Tarantino made it known that The Hateful Eight was primarily inspired on several fronts by Carpenter’s underrated work. However, it has not pervaded pop culture like so many other horror classics have left their indelible mark on film vernacular. And to that end, I hope it remains in that slight shadow of anonymity for all future enthusiasts.

#john carpenter #the thing #alien #horror #horror movie #horror film #horror genre

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bleepbloo · 4 years

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Reaction to The Lovers of the Fallen Tower (Part 1)

I am beyond late, I know, but better late than never right?

I am a little spoiled on the episode on some of the general things that happen, but not the how. So be prepared for ramblings and mind going off in different directions, and also we got so MUCH WORLD-BUILDING!!

Keeping that in mind, I hope y’all enjoy this!

So, off the bat, Olala is very cute. Not much else seems to be needed to say in that regard. She also handles people who died very well, but that’s only because she hasn’t experienced it happening in any relation to her.

I don’t doubt that’s going to change when she realizes- or if someone makes her realize *looks at Sir Caroline, who is the exact kind of person to tell a child her family is dead* - that her family, her Sisters, died by the Kite’s hand.

On the subject of Death, if the Queen didn’t call all the journeyman knights because Miller as a town was slaughtered, I will genuinely be surprised. Arum seems to be surprised twice by Olala; once when she mentions that she’s from the Garden of Death- which he recognizes - and when she mentions she’s ‘half-monster’.

Arum seems to handle kids well, which- doesn’t bug me, necessarily, but it does raise the question of how. He’s been pretty hard-core ID’d as a hermit, both by analysis and the narrative itself, so while I doubt that he’s been around many children, it does lead me to think the Keep wasn’t the only one to raise him? I mean, the way he handled Olala is very different than how the Keep obviously raise Arum; he set boundaries, rules where the Keep indulges, he (tried) not to dump his baggage on her where the Keep sings and talks about everything, he sent her away to the Keep when he needed to have a grown-up conversation with Rilla- that speaks of someone who was taught by someone else. Or he could be just good with children, I’m not holding my breath here

Also, wow, Rilla did not handle anything well, but I mean. Who can blame her? A three person relationship is way different from a two-person one, and while they’re all talking to each other, they’re not communicating. Damien’s more or less committed treason - burning letters from ‘his true home’.

Does that include any letters Angelo might be sending??

How long has Damien been burning letters??

Do his parents even know he’s alive???????

I’m very concerned by this, if only because like- speaking from some personal experience- it can be very jarring to realize that you don’t have the same support network you thought you did, or that because of who you are now cannot coincide. Of course, Arum doesn’t understand it because 1) Hermit, 2) he’s always been accepted by his home, if nothing else.

They’re all having a bad time of it.

Still, shoutout to Damien for being a good person and deciding that he needed to be here to defend the child, and did it despite the communication issues with Arum and his own internal issues.

Also, Arum gets annoyed by the Citadel’s renaming of everything, but I have to wonder if the Southern Frosts has it’s own renaming of things?

Because, for those that don’t remember, what Rilla and Tal saw as a sea-shell, Caroline explicitly saw it as a court-house. Which says some interesting things about the Southern Frosts and how they correlate to the monster view of things, and how the Citadel quite clearly deviates from this by renaming things.

I’m going to chew on that thought in a different post, but for now it’s worth noting.

In that moment, where he asks to watch it again, he’s exactly the kind of person who would depress watch a show that makes him happy. And it’s done very well how Damien and Arum aren’t really talking to each other. At all. When Damien mentions he’s never heard that moniker before, he says it gently to Olala, not to Arum at all, and when Arum responds, it’s to tell Rilla to tell him.

Which, man. I’d lose my goddamn mind if I had to deal with that on a near-daily basis. (Also, it’s clear that despite Damien’s status as knight, he stays within the Northern border, and that there’s REALLY not a lot of visitors from the West, which kind of shows that despite the quite large amount of land there is in the world, people - of the West, South, North, and ESPECIALLY the East (if there’s anyone who lives out there)- don’t travel much, which contributes to the xenophobia of the North & South at the very least!)

I’m going to chew on this more - between college and life - but it’s clear that the West is something of a united front, at least where Olala was from. They allow monsters to visit and live with them, use magic and science hand-in-hand, are both in a place of death and yet holds so much life (fungi)- it’s literally the middle ground between the North and the South. Also, really glad that the Arum finally mentioned the entire North being called ‘the Second Citadel’ so I can stop referencing that one time early access content was allowed for all patrons.

It’s also interesting that a place has emotions, but then, magic. Which we still don’t know how it works really.

Also, I should mention that when I heard the name ‘emotional resonator’, I thought that it was going to- locate an emotion and fixate on it, drawing it out like a fish on a fishing pole.

This was not that.

“Increase the anxiety-”, y’know what, I had to pause here, and say that you shouldn’t try and increase the anxiety of a place, ESPECIALLY NOT IN A PLACE THAT’S STILL VERY AND CLEARLY TRAUMATIZED!!!!!

This just proves that while Rilla and Arum have high INT, they both - together- have a very low WIS. And Rilla proves that she’s Marc’s sister by impulsively going when the experiment has been run.

Parapet of the wilds. Hm. For those that don’t know, a parapet the part of a wall or a tower that stops you from falling off the top of a building. Then a two of the wilds, nine of some sort of mirror or snail (the East? Sage Helicoid??). Also, I want to take this moment to apologize for the length of this- school has kept me busy so to talk like this is very nice, except I’m still in the middle of it and I’m sure there’s going to be more to come.

Poor Olala, caught in the middle. This is DEFINITELY NOT what Marc had in mind when he left Olala in the care of Arum.

And, ah, the building does have a type. Conflicting lovers.

Hm, so towers can be used to get magical currents.

There’s also a story, called Babbalon, where, together, all of humanity was working together to ascend to heaven. And it was working, which made God, worried, so God broke the tower, and cursed people to have completely separate languages from each other so that they could never again get so close to Heaven. Considering present circumstances, with humanity and monsters, the same metaphor works here.

I wouldn’t be surprised if there was one on the side of the world to the West, East, and South.

Also, I have to wonder when Pix and David are- they clearly lived at the Terminus for a few years before everything went boom, and they were building the Bridge- aka the Fallen Tower - prior to getting attacked. I’ve wondered if it’s before or after the First Citadel fell. I mean, it’s probably before, but how much before?

Also, jesus Rilla, this- I know you want Damien and Arum to get along, but using it TWICE like this WHEN ARUM EXPLICITLY STATES IT’S *DANGEROUS* IS A BAD IDEA! Of course, she does it anyway.

AND NOW WE GET CONFIRMATION THAT THERE ARE LIGHTS OFF THE EDGE OF THE WORLD, and also a name Zin? That’s going to come up again, mark my words. Every significant person in the world/story - Queen Mira, Sir Damien, Sir Absolom, David, Pix, Senator Calin(?mentioned by the nameless monsters at the end of the World)- everyone who has some sort of name, and I do mean name, is going to come up again. It happened with Queen Mira, Sir Damien, Pix, David, it’s going to be brought up with Sir Absolom soon, mark my words.

Anyway, point is, Pix saw lights!

Even if it’s like- Plateau's, where each land mass is separated by degrees of going down, or like, the Citadel Plateau’s is separated from the land mass below it, there’s still SOMETHING out there! I’m very excited for it.

And, oh, it was just minutes after this that Pix and David died, wasn’t it? Oh.

And oh, GOd. She’s looking for answers in the wrong place. She’s looking in a two-person relationship- her situation and theirs are- so far from different that it’s like looking through 3-d colored glass with just one eye.

Their species are at war, and that- like it or not- still affects their relationship.

I mean, I get it, but also, there are other things that could’ve been attempted first.

Oh god, poor Olala. She’s stressed out, by the anxiety and by the machine and by everything that her body is literally changing out of stress! Honestly, mood, but also, huh. It means that who- or what, depending- these memories belong to, is also resonating with Olala.

And the Bridge, destroyed. This IS STILL NOT BIDING WELL FOR WHEN WE ACTUALLY GET TO THE TOWER CARD. I am going to keep harping on this until I’m metaphorically black and blue.

I don’t know if it’s the memory of the person or the machine glitching/repeating out on itself, or some combination thereof(you know, like a panic attack), but this certainly explains the description of the next episode.

Also, I love how Arum is so unimpressed with Damien’s ‘one miracle’, because functionally Arum(in D&D terms) like a Warlock to his Keep’s patronage, can create some thousand miracles and things that have never existed before, even though it’s still super impressive that Damien was even able to do the ONE miracle.

Damien, when he isn’t being a xenophobic dingus, is actually quite smart.

And that’s the end of the episode, part 1.

Also, the names at the end of the Episode fucking kill me, fucking superb you funky donators.

I’ll soon be back, with Part 2 reaction. And then we get to munch onto some good, good theories.

#second citadel spoilers #second citadel #bleepbloo thoughts

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marymacd · 5 years

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IF YOU TOUCH ME, I WON’T BE STILL.

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍, 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒌, 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆 𝒎𝒆. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍.” - Allison Argent, Teen Wolf

“𝑰 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕. 𝑰 𝒂𝒎, 𝑰 𝒂𝒎, 𝑰 𝒂𝒎.” - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔.” - Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

“𝑵𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕.” - Eleanor Roosevelt, This Is My Story

"𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖? 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖? 𝑻𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆. 𝑻𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆." - Marina Tsvetaeva, Bride of Ice: New Selected Poems

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Mary Anne Macdonald NICKNAMES: Mare, Mac (rarely, prefers Mary) AGE: 20 BIRTHDAY: June 12th, 1959 GENDER: Cis female PRONOUNS: She/her

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Lisa Macdonald (47), muggle nurse FATHER: Anthony Macdonald (49), muggle firefighter SIBLINGS: None

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Diana Silvers BUILD: Average height and noticeably thin. HAIR: Hangs down below her shoulders. Naturally wavy and usually with a little frizz, she doesn’t do much to it other than wash it every couple of days. Usually worn out, tends to only pulls it back when she’s doing physical activity. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown, was lighter in her youth. EYE COLOR: Light brown, with flecks of green. SKIN COLOR: Fair. DOMINANT HAND: Left, though somewhat proficient at using both. ANOMALIES: A jagged scar on the bottom of her right foot, acquired when she was nine and stood on shattered glass barefoot. Faint scars on one of her thighs. Freckles on her shoulders and her nose, particularly noticeable during summer. A small birthmark on her lower back. SCENT: Coconut, from the shampoo she uses. Old parchment when she comes home from work. Mint, from the gum she chews. ACCENT: East Coast Irish (Dublin). ALLERGIES: None. DISORDERS: Generalised anxiety & panic disorder. Since her attack, Mary has suffered from regular panic attacks. Though they have become more infrequent as the years have gone on, she still has them on occasion. She also experiences bouts of depression. FASHION: Whatever she finds comfortable. Loves oversized clothing. Sweaters all year round, button-up shirts and culottes. NERVOUS TICS: Chews her lips, picks at her nails, and taps her feet. QUIRKS: Hums her favourite songs when she’s working. Talks to her cat as though it were a person. Always double-checks she locked the door.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Plainview Point Apartments. BORN: Tallaght Hospital, Tallaght, Ireland. RAISED: Tallaght, Ireland. PETS: Childhood dog, Sonny. Currently owns a cat, Clyde, and has since she started Hogwarts. He’s a ginger cat, and quite temperamental, by Mary’s own admission.

CAREER: Junior Administrator at the Wizengamot. EXPERIENCE: Has been working in her current position for over a year and a half. EMPLOYER: The Ministry of Magic (Wizengamot).

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Aligned with the Order of the Phoenix. BELIEFS: Her father is Jewish, and her mother Roman Catholic, so Mary was raised with a mix of beliefs. Now, she considers herself agnostic, though mildly spiritual. MISDEMEANORS: None. FELONIES: None. DRUGS: None. SMOKES: No. ALCOHOL: Socially, preferred drink is an Irish Cream. DIET: Vegetarian. Mostly just eats whatever is left in her fridge when she gets home. If she can cobble together an entire meal, that’s a bonus.

LANGUAGES: English, some Hebrew.

PHOBIAS: Feeling helpless and out of control. The deaths of those closest to her. Being alone in the dark. HOBBIES: Reading, quidditch (formerly), football (formerly), knitting. TRAITS: { + }: intelligent, courageous, discreet, humorous, sensitive, stoic. { - }: tense, argumentative, cynical, reticent, self-righteous, diffident.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Her parents’ house in Tallaght. It’s the only place that still feels like home to her. SPORTS TEAM: Shamrock Rovers (football), Holyhead Harpies (quidditch). GAME: Monopoly. MUSIC: David Bowie, Elton John, The Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac. She owns a cassette player, gifted to her by her father. Every few months, he sends her a new mix tape to listen to, so she ‘can stay up to date on muggle music’ -- Mary listens to every one, and shares her taste in music with her father. MOVIES: Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind. FOOD: Chocolate frogs, pesto fettuccine. BEVERAGE: Butterbeer. COLOR: Crimson red.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Gryffindor. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 11″ hazel wood with unicorn hair core, inflexible. AMORTENTIA: Freshly baked pastries, drying paint, and lavender. PATRONUS: A wild rabbit. BOGGART: Malcolm Mulciber.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful neutral MBTI: INTP MBTI ROLE: The Logician. The Logician personality type is fairly rare, making up only three percent of the population, which is definitely a good thing for them, as there’s nothing they’d be more unhappy about than being “common”. Logicians pride themselves on their inventiveness and creativity, their unique perspective and vigorous intellect. Usually known as the philosopher, the architect, or the dreamy professor, Logicians have been responsible for many scientific discoveries throughout history. ENNEAGRAM: Type Six. ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Loyalist. The committed, security-oriented type. Sixes are reliable, hard-working, responsible, and trustworthy. Excellent "troubleshooters," they foresee problems and foster cooperation, but can also become defensive, evasive, and anxious—running on stress while complaining about it. They can be cautious and indecisive, but also reactive, defiant and rebellious. They typically have problems with self-doubt and suspicion. At their Best: internally stable and self-reliant, courageously championing themselves and others. TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic. A melancholic personality leads to self-reliant individuals who are thoughtful, reserved, and often anxious. They often strive for perfection within themselves and their surroundings, which leads to tidy and detail oriented behaviour. WESTERN ZODIAC: Gemini. Adaptable, versatile, communicative, witty, intellectual, eloquent, youthful, lively, nervous, tense, superficial, inconsistent, cunning, and inquisitive. CHINESE ZODIAC: Year of the Pig. Pigs are diligent, compassionate, and generous. They have great concentration: once they set a goal, they will devote all their energy to achieving it. Though Pigs rarely seek help from others, they will not refuse to give others a hand. Pigs never suspect trickery, so they are easily fooled. PRIMAL SIGN: Cricket. Crickets are intellectuals who like to explore and experiment with new ideas and theories. Unlike similarly intellectual signs, like the Seal, members of this sign are very polite in social situations and like nothing more than getting into a theoretical discussion about something scientific or otherwise cerebral. For this reason, this sign is often that of self-proclaimed “nerds”, but most Crickets are simply too likeable for such a derisive label. TAROT CARD: The Devil, The Lovers. TV TROPES: broken bird badass bookworm mage born of muggles deadpan snarker vengeance denied

SONGS: 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒚, 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 But if you touch me I'll lash out. Don't fuck with me. If I must, you know I will. I'm not your prey, I'm not your kill.

𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒆𝒚 'Cause I don't need anyone I don't need anyone I just need everyone and then some

𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒔, 𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆 This dream isn't feeling sweet We're reeling through the midnight streets And I've never felt more alone It feels so scary, getting old

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔, 𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒌𝒊 One morning this sadness will fossilize And I will forget how to cry I'll keep going to work and you won't see a change Save perhaps a slight gray in my eye

𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒔 Don't get too close It's dark inside It's where my demons hide

IDEOLOGIES:

Just because someone speaks the loudest, doesn’t meant they’re right.

White chocolate isn’t really chocolate.

Sometimes, it’s okay to take justice into your own hands.

Pineapple absolutely does not belong on pizza.

You can’t take care of others if you are unable to take care of yourself first.

Trust must be earned, and second chances shouldn’t be given out easily.

Everybody has a sense of humour, it just might not be the same as your own.

#&& mary.#one eternity later #also pls don't @me for using a teen wolf quote #dulcetask

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dustedmagazine · 5 years

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Dust, Volume 5, Number 12

Matthew J. Rolin

Ned Starke was right. Winter is coming, and maybe, for our Chicago and Eastern Seaboard contingent, it’s here. That’s a good excuse to find a big comfy chair near the stereo and dig into some new music. This time we offer some hip hop, some finger picking, some music concrete, some indie pop and, just this once, a Broadway musical. Contributors include Ray Garraty, Jennifer Kelly, Justin Cober-Lake, Jonathan Shaw, Bill Meyer and Andrew Forell. Stay warm.

ALLBLACK x Offset Jim — 22nd Ways (Play Runners Association)

ALLBLACK and Offset Jim have collaborated on a few tracks before, but this is their first release together. Their differences, which are significant, make the disc enjoyable through and through. Offset Jim has a poker face delivery that can fool anybody into thinking he’s deadly serious when he’s clearly having fun. ALLBLACK, on the other hand, is known for his goofy humor, but his goofiness is a mask that obscures a poetic psycho killer. Their combination of a healthy dose of humor and true-to-the-streets seriousness—seen here— makes a case for tolerating all kinds of oddball pairings:

“Don't leave the house without your makeup kit Diss songs about your real daddy just won't stick Hey, bitch, say, bitch, I know you miss this demon dick Please comb Max hair, take off them wack outfits”

Ray Garraty

David Byrne — American Utopia (Nonesuch)

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If you live long enough, everything that seemed edgy and electrifying in your youth will turn safe and comfortable in middle age. You’ll buy festival tickets with access to couches, tents and air conditioning. Clash songs will turn up in Jaguar ads. Kids at the playground will run around sporting your Black Flag tee-shirt. You may even find yourself in a $250 seat, at a beautiful theater, with your beautiful wife, seeing “American Utopia,” David Byrne’s new jukebox musical, and, to borrow a phrase, you may ask yourself, “How did I get here?” And look, you could do worse. These are wonderful songs, still prickly and spare even now in full orchestral arrangements, still booming with cross-currented, afro-beat rhythms (Byrne got to that early on, give him credit), still buoyed with a scratchy, ironic, ebullient pulse of life. It’s hard to say what plot line stitches together “Born Under Punches,” “Every Day is a Miracle,” “Burning Down the House” and “Road to Nowhere,” or how absorbing the connective narrative may be. It’s not, obviously, as kinetic and daring as the original arrangements, stitched together with shoe-laces, stuttering with anxiety, bounced and jittered by the back line of Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz, clad in an absurdly oversized suit. And, yet, it’s not so bad and if I had three big bills to spend on a night at the theater, I might just want to see it re-enacted. Because I’ve gotten safe and comfortable, too, and anyway, better that than the Springsteen show.

Jennifer Kelly

Charly Bliss — Supermoon EP (Barsuk)

Supermoon by Charly Bliss

Charly Bliss’ latest release Supermoon, collects five tracks written during the Young Enough sessions that didn’t make the final cut. The EP showcases the band transitioning from the grungy edge of their debut Guppy to the more polished pop sound of its successor. Eva Hendricks is one of the moment’s most distinctive voices, and these songs find her grappling with the themes so tellingly addressed on Young Enough. Although the songs here deserve release, the interest is in what they don’t do. More than sketches, they are less lyrically formed than those on the album, more guitar driven and without the big pop pay offs. The band, Hendricks on guitar and vocals, her brother Sam on drums, guitarist Spencer Fox and bassist Dan Shure still produce a hooky, engaging record which will appeal to fans. Newcomers might want to start with the albums but Supermoon is not without its moments.

Andrew Forell

Cheval Sombre — Been a Lover b/w The Calfless Cow (Market Square)

Cheval Sombre - Been a Lover b/w The Calfless Cow by Market Square Recordings

Cheval Sombre teamed with Luna/Galaxie 500’s Dean Wareham last year for a haunting batch of cowboy songs that found, as I put it in my Dusted review, “unfamiliar shadows and crevices in some very familiar material.” Now comes Cheval Sombre, otherwise known as Chris Porpora, with a brace of soft, dreamy folk-turned-psychedelic songs, one a gently sorrowful original, the other a cover of Alasdair Roberts. “Been a Lover” slow-strums through a whistling canyons of dreams, wistfully surveying the remnants of a long-standing relationship. It has the nodding, skeletal grace of Sonic Boom’s acoustic “Angel,” perhaps no coincidence since the Spaceman 3 songwriter produced the album. “The Calfless Cow” anchors a bit more in folk blues picking, though Porpora’s soft, prayerful vocals float free above the foundations. Both songs feel like spectral images leaving traceries on unexposed film—unsolid and evocative and mysteriously, inexplicably there.

Jennifer Kelly

Cigarettes After Sex — Cry (Partisan Records)

Cry by Cigarettes After Sex

Cigarettes After Sex’s 2017 debut album was a quite lovely collection of slow-core, lust-lorn dream pop. On the follow up Cry Greg Gonzalez (vocals, guitar), Phillip Tubbs (keys), Randall Miller (bass) and Jacob Tomsky (drums) double down on their signature sound with half the effect. The melodies are still here, the delicate restraint also, Gonzalez’ voice whispers seductively sweet nothings but this time around it is largely nothings he��s working with. It’s not that this is a terrible record, it’s more that the wreaths of gossamer amount to not much. Lacking the humorous touches of the debut, Cry suffers from Gonzalez’ sometimes witless and earnest lyrics which are mirrored in the lackluster pace which makes one desperate for the sex to be over so one can get back to smoking. Cry aims for Lynch/Badalamenti atmospherics and hits them occasionally but too often lapses into Hallmark sentimentalism. For an album ostensibly about romantic and physical love Cry is dispiritingly dry. There is only ash on these sheets. Serge Gainsbourg is somewhere rolling his eyes, and a gasper, in the velvet boudoir of eternity.

Andrew Forell

Lucy Dacus — 2019 (Matador)

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Between Historian and boygenius, Lucy Dacus had a pretty memorable 2018. It makes sense that she'd want to document 2019. What she did instead was release a series of holiday-ish tracks over the course of the year and then collect them as the 2019 EP. The covers will likely get the most attention, whether her loving take on Edith Piaf's “La vie en rose” or the rocking rendition of Wham!'s “Last Christmas.” Dacus doesn't perform these songs with any sense of snark; she's both enjoying herself and invested. Counting Bruce Springsteen's birthday as a holiday might be silly, but she nails “Dancing in the Dark,” turning it to her own aesthetic. The weird one here is “In the Air Tonight,” which smacks of irony and whatever we call guilty pleasures these days, but she plays it straight, arguing for it as a spooky Halloween cut, and sort of pulls it off.

Focusing on the covers might lead listeners to forget how good a songwriter she is. The Mother's Day “My Mother & I” feels thoroughly like a Dacus number, opening with contemplation: “My mother hates her body / We share the same outline / She swears that she loves mine.” Holidays aren't easy. “Fool's Gold” (stick this New Year's track first or last) falls like snow, laden with regret and rationalization. Dacus works through holidays with care and concern. The covers might be fun (even the Phil Collins number works as a curiosity), but when she lets the more conflicted thoughts come through, as on “Forever Half Mast,” she maintains the hot streak. The EP might be a bit of a diversion, but its secret complexity makes it more surprisingly forceful. Justin Cober-Lake

Kool Keith — Computer Technology (Fat Beats)

Computer Technology by Kool Keith

Naming an album Computer Technology in 2019 is like calling a 1950 disc A Light Bulb. Ironic Luddite-ness is a part of the charm of the new Kool Keith’s album, his second this year. The record has a cyberpunk-ish (circa 1984) feel, thanks to wacky, early electronics-like beats that no sane hip hop artist today would agree to rap over. But who said Kool Keith was sane? He’s like a computer virus here, infesting a modern culture he views with disdain. His kooky brags could be written off as old man rants if he been in the rap game since day one. On “Computer Technology” he says: ‘You need to sit down and slow down’, yet he himself shows no signs of slowing down.

If Kool Keith’s 1980s science rap messed around in a high school lab, he’s now a tenured professor in hip hop science blowing up the joint.

Ray Garraty

Leech — Data Horde (Peak Oil)

Data Horde by Leech

Brian Foote’s work has a knack for showing up in slightly unexpected and subtly crucial places, whether it’s behind the scenes at Kranky and his own Peak Oil imprint, or as a member at times of Fontanelle or Nudge, or even just helping out Stephen Malkmus with drums. On Data Horde, his debut LP of electronic music under his Leech moniker, Foote works with his customary quiet assurance and subtly radical take on things, delivering a brief but satisfying set of bespoke productions that somehow evoke acid and ambient tinges at the same time, feinting towards full-out jungle eruptions before turning the corner and somehow naturally going somewhere much more minimal. Whether it’s the skittering, pulsing “Brace” or the lush and aptly-named “Nimble”, the results are consistently satisfying and the six tracks here suggest that we could stand to hear a lot more from Leech.

Ian Mathers

Midnight Odyssey — Biolume Part 1: In Tartarean Chains (I, Voidhanger)

Biolume Part 1 - In Tartarean Chains by MIDNIGHT ODYSSEY

Midnight Odyssey’s massive new record sounds like what might happen if Gary Numan’s Tubeway Army smoked up a bunch of Walter White’s finest product and decided that they must cover Pink Floyd’s Live at Pompei, complete with ruins and really big gongs. It’s interstellar. It’s perversely grandiose. The synths soar and rumble, the vocals come in mournful choral arrangements, the low end thunders and occasionally explodes into blast-beat barrage. It’s almost impossible to take seriously, and it’s presented with what seems like absolute seriousness. In any case, there’s a lot of it: seven tracks, all of which exceed the eight-minute mark, and most of which moan and intone and resonate well beyond ten minutes. You’ve got to give it to Dis Pater, the only identified member of Midnight Odyssey — he really means it. But it’s often hard to tell if Biolume Part 1 (Pater threatens that there are two more parts to come) is the product of an unchecked, idiosyncratically powerful vision or just goofball cosmological schmaltz. To this reviewer, it’s undecidable. And that’s interesting.

Jonathan Shaw

Nakhane — You Will Not Die

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South African singer Nakhane Touré has a voice that can stop you in your tracks when he unleashes it, and a willingness to tackle uncomfortable topics (homosexuality, colonialism, and the way the imported Presbyterian church interacts with both) that’s seen him both praised and threatened in his homeland. You Will Not Die marks a shift in Nakhane’s music, both in terms of how directly and intensely he engages with those places where the sacred rubs up against, not so much the profane but the disavowed, even while sonically everything is lusher and brighter, whether it’s the slinky electroglam of “Interloper” or the bell-tolling balladry of “Presbyteria.” For once it’s worth seeking the deluxe edition, for the Bowie-esque Anohni duet “New Brighton” and the defiantly melancholy cover of “Age of Consent” alone.

Matthew J. Rolin — Matthew J. Rolin (Feeding Tube)

Matthew J. Rolin by Matthew J. Rolin

Matthew J. Rolin steps to the head of the latest class of American Primitive guitarists on this self-titled debut LP. He is currently a resident of Columbus, Ohio, but his main inspirations from within the genre are Chicagoan. Reportedly a Ryley Walker concert sent him down the solo guitar path, but the one time this reviewer caught him in concert, Rolin only made one substance-oriented statement throughout the set, and it was more of a shy assertion than an extravagant boast. His sound more than pays the toll. Bright and ringing on 12 strings, pithy and structurally sound on six, he makes sparing use of outdoor sound and keyboard drones that bring Daniel Bachman to mind. Like Bachman did on his early records, Rolin often relies upon the rush of his fingerpicking to draw the listener along, and what do you know? It works.

Bill Meyer

Claire Rousay — Aerophobia (Astral Spirits)

Aerophobia by Claire Rousay

To watch Claire Rousay perform is to see the process of deciding made visual. You can’t put that on a tape, but you can make the tape a symbolic and communicative object. To see Rousay repeatedly, or to play her recordings in sequence, is to hear an artist who is rapidly transforming. This one was already a bit behind her development when it was released, but that can be turned into a statement, too. Perhaps the title Aerophobia, which means fear of flying, is a critique of the tape’s essentially musical content? It is a series of drum solos, unlike the more the more recent t4t, which includes self-revealing speech and household sounds. If so, that critique does not reproach the music itself, nor should it. Even when you can’t see her, you can hear her sonic resourcefulness and appreciate the movement and shape she articulates with sound.

Bill Meyer

Colin Andrew Sheffield & James Eck Rippie — Exploded View (Elevator Bath)

exploded view by colin andrew sheffield & james eck rippie

Colin Andrew Sheffield, who is the proprietor of the Elevator Bath imprint, and James Eck Rippie, who does sound work for Hollywood movies, have this understanding in common: they know that you gotta break things to make things. The things in question don’t even have to be intact when you start; at any rate, the feedback, microphone bumps, blips and skips that make up this 19-minute long piece of musique concrete sound like the product of generations of handling. It all feels a bit like you’re hearing a scan of the shortwave bands from inside the radio, which makes for delightfully disorienting listening.

Bill Meyer

Ubik — Next Phase (Iron Lung)

Next Phase MLP (LUNGS-148) by UBIK

Philip K. Dick’s whacko-existentialist-corporate-satire-cum-SF-novel Ubik turns 50 this year, and serendipitously, Australian punks Ubik have released this snarling, tuneful EP into the world. There’s a whole lot of British street punk, c. 1982, in Ubik’s sound, especially if that genre tag and year make you flash on Lurkers, Abrasive Wheels and Angelic Upstarts — bands that knew how to string melodic hooks together, and bands that had pretty solid lefty politics. Ubik’s songs couple street punk’s populist (in the pre-Trump sense) fist-pumping with a spastic, elastic angularity, giving the tracks just enough of a weirdo vibe that the band’s name makes sense. The combination of elements is vividly present in “John Wayne (Is a Cowboy (and Is on Twitter)),” a hugely fun punk song that registers a fair degree of ideological venom as it bashes and speeds along. Somewhere, Horselover Fat is nodding his head and smiling.

Jonathan Shaw

Uranium Club — Two Things at Once (Sub Pop)

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Uranium Club (sometimes Minneapolis Uranium club) made one of the best punk albums of this year in The Cosmo Cleaners. “A visionary insanity, backed by impressive musical chops,” I opined in Dusted last April, setting off a frenzy of interest and an epic major label bidding war. Just kidding. Hardly anyone noticed. Uranium Club was this year’s Patois Counselors, a band so good that it made no sense that no one knew about them. But, fast forward to now and LOOK at the heading of this review! Sub Pop noticed and included Uranium Club in its storied singles club. And why not? The bluntly named “Two Things at Once,” (Parts I and 2), is just as tightly, maniacally wound as the full-length, just as gloriously, spikily confrontational. “Part 1” scrambles madly, pulling hair out by the roots as it agitatedly considers “our children’s creativity” and whether “I’m too young to die.” It’s like Fire Engines, but faster and crazier and with big pieces of machinery working loose and flying off the sides. “Part 2” runs slower and more lyrically but with no less intensity, big flayed slashes of discord rupturing its meditative strumming. There are no words in it, and yet you sense deep, obsessive bouts of agitation driving its motor, even when the brass comes in, unexpectedly, mournfully, near the end. This is the good stuff, and no one wants you to know about it. Except me. And now Sub Pop. Don’t miss out.

Jennifer Kelly

Various Artists— Come on up to the House: Women Sing Waits (Dualtone)

Come On Up To The House: Women Sing Waits by Dualtone Music Group, Inc.

Tom Waits’ gravelly voice is embedded deep in the fabric of how we think of Tom Waits songs. You can’t think of “Come On Up to the House” without sandpapery catch in its gospel curves, or of “Downtown Train” without his strangled desolation; he is the songs, and if you don’t like the way he sings, you’ve probably never cared much for his recordings. And yet, here, in this all-woman, star-studded, country-centric collection of covers, you can hear, maybe for the first time, how gracefully constructed these songs are, how pretty the melodies, how well the lyrics fit to them. You cannot believe how different these songs sound with women singing. It is truly revelatory. Contributors include big stars (Aimee Mann, Corinne Rae Bailey), living legends (Iris Dement, Roseanne Cash), up-and-comers (Courtney Marie Andrews, Phoebe Bridgers) and a few emerging artists (Joseph, The Wild Reeds), and all have a case to make. Phoebe Bridgers distills “Georgia Lee” into a quiet, tragic purity, while Angie McMahon finds a private, inward-looking clarity in “Take It With Me.” Courtney Marie Andrews blows up “Downtown Train,” into a swaggering country anthem, while Roseanne Cash infuses “Time” with a warm, unforced glow. These versions transform weird, twisted reveries into American songbook classics, which is what they maybe were, under all that growling, all along.

Jennifer Kelly

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dresupi · 5 years

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Dead Wrong - Frank/Karen

Rating: Rated M Ship: Frank Castle/Karen Page Tags: Friends to lovers, non-explicit sex, lack of communication, idiots in love, canon divergent, light angst, Karen Page POV For: @wickedwriter916 Word Count: 1533

Summary:

Karen is convinced it meant more to her than it did to him. She's so convinced that she doesn't even bother to pay attention to all the clues to the contrary.

It's a good thing Frank specializes in bluntness.

"Karen?" he whispered, his lips still pressed against her shoulder.

His hands had tightened around her arms, not holding her back any more than he was holding himself.

"Frank…" Her voice was louder, unmuffled. She felt him relax at the sound, his fingers loosening from her arms as he trailed one down the side of her torso, alongside her breast, over her ribcage.

Gooseflesh pebbled in its wake, a tingle that traveled up her spine and lingered when she finally turned her face towards him, finding his lips in the dark and sighing at the relief the kiss brought.

It was like something broke. Fingers tore at fabric, lips and teeth clamored for dominance.

His touch was like fire, fingers trailing down her bare skin, leaving her burning for more.

One hand cupped her breast, thumb swiping over the stiffened peak while the other drifted further. Lower. Deeper. He sought out the source of her warmth and she gave in willingly.

When his fingers found her core, molten hot and aching, he swallowed her moans. Fingertips brushed and plucked until she couldn't hold it in any longer.

His name was louder on her lips, a furtive prayer. Over and over and over, she cried out.

Her hands clawed at his back before reaching out for him. Her fingers wrapped around him, smooth and stiffening more with every stroke.

He stopped her before long, settling between her thighs and pressing home, her name softly tickling her skin as he started to move.

They rocked together on the mattress, her metal bed frame clanking back against the wall, the springs groaning, her quickening breath, soft gasps as he groaned out her name, low and rumbling. Their union overwhelmed the senses, and Karen felt Frank's whole body tense with his release.

His muscles relaxed, his forehead was sweaty when he rested against her body.

No more words were spoken, none were needed.

Sarah knew.

Karen could tell as she sat across from the other woman, as Karen pointedly stared straight ahead and not at the man sitting next to her.

Sarah had probably noticed it when they both came for dinner that evening. There was something different about the way they were holding themselves. Karen had deluded herself into thinking that maybe there wasn't. That maybe, if she was calm and collected enough in his presence, no one would notice the decided shift in their relationship.

No, not a shift. A veritable leap.

She had been dead wrong about no one noticing.

Hell, David even seemed to notice, sending Sarah his trademarked raised-eyebrows-look from across the dining room table.

And if David noticed, it was a shake past blatant.

Karen pointedly didn't look at Frank at all. She hadn't even glanced his way when he arrived late and after the table had already been set for three.

It wasn't that there wasn't a tangible spark in the air. The momentum of something that could have been if they'd only open their eyes and their hearts to what was directly in front of them… no, it was more like the spark had ignited and you could smell the residual smoldering fumes. Like a house that had been a blazing hot with a house fire and turned to charred cinders the next day.

The cinders were what everyone was seeing.

There was a coldness that didn't exist before. Not a numb, gradual coldness either. This was sudden. Absolute. Karen was drowning in it, and it wasn't coming from Frank. She'd wielded the bucket of ice water, was still figuratively clutching it in her trembling hands. It hadn't been her best decision, but in her panicked state, it had been the only one she could make.

No matter what, it was apparent that something had happened, and it was only a matter of time before Karen pulled Sarah aside to tell her exactly what. It was weighing on her, and she needed to talk about it to someone other than Frank.

"We slept together…" Karen muttered, her eyes darting for the first time over to Frank. It was safe. She was seeing the back of his head. God, if she caught his eyes again, she didn't think she would be able to break free.

"No shit," Sarah muttered, glancing over where Frank and David were talking. "How was it?"

"Sarah…" Karen hissed, caught between laughing and running from the room. Her face reddened and she covered her mouth with one hand, trying not to burst out into nervous laughter. Into tears. Into nervous laughter/tears.

"Not sorry, it's important, need-to-know information," Sarah said with a shrug and a smirk.

"It was… intense," Karen said slowly, unsure if 'intense' was actually the right word, but it felt the closest.

"Ah. He bailed?" Sarah asked, frowning slightly as she stole another look at Frank. The way she said it almost sounded like she already knew she was wrong.

"No, I did," Karen confessed from behind her hand. "I bailed."

"Why?"

"I don't know… it felt like a weakness. Like a chink in the armor… like I was only doing it for lack of something else to do…" Karen shook her head and turned towards the sink to run water on some already rinsed dishes. Even as she talked, none of it felt right. That wasn't why she'd run at all.

"Liar, liar," Sarah chided, taking the plate from her hands. "Pants on fire."

"If you already know, tell me," Karen replied, turning off the water. "Because I sure as hell don't."

"Me either," Sarah said with a soft smile. "But I know you need to talk to Frank about it since he's the only one who might."

"I'm pretty sure he's angry with me," Karen said softly, stealing another glance at him and briefly catching his heated gaze.

Sarah chuckled a little. "I don't think that's anger I'm feeling." She squeezed Karen's arm and left her side. Karen turned away, stared down into the sink, watching the water slowly drip down the drain as she tried to compose herself.

There was a soft brush of fingers on her arm and when she turned, it wasn't Sarah standing there.

"Wanna go out on the porch?" Frank asked, his voice low. The deepness rumbled and dragged against something inside her chest.

"What for?" she asked, looking back down at the sink.

"To see the stars or something, I don't know…" Frank said, exhaling loudly. "I just think we should probably talk."

"We probably shouldn't do this here," Karen began.

"Do what here?"

She sighed in exasperation. "You know what."

"No, but why don't you tell me outside?"

"Fine." Karen pushed off the sink and followed Frank outside to the back porch.

She crossed both arms in front of her as she stood there, staring into the backyard and looking anywhere but at him.

"What shouldn't we be doing here?" Frank asked immediately, taking a seat on the swing. The chains squeaked as he moved.

"Talking about what we did."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "And what did we do?"

"We…" She paused, unsure if she should try to be delicate or not. "We slept together."

"Wasn't much sleeping going on," he replied immediately.

"Frank…"

"Nah, I know what happened. We slept together, you got scared and you left. And we didn't have a postmortem, so now you think it's gotta be awkward." He listed everything in such a matter-of-fact sort of way that his words almost hurt.

"No, that's not it at all," she countered.

"Oh really? What is it then?" he asked.

"We slept together and I think it meant more to me than it did to you," she blurted. "I woke up the next morning and… and… I realized that my feelings were very… very intense and I got scared and I ran because casual isn't something I could ever do with you."

He got up then, his shoes creaking on the deck as he moved closer. So close his breath was moving her hair, tickling her earlobe. "Does my behavior this evening read as casual to you? Because I was fucking terrified that you made some huge mistake and here I was with all these feelings for you and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop looking at you, Karen…" he stopped abruptly, tilting his head down until it bumped against hers.

"And I couldn't look at you," she continued. "Because I didn't want to be right."

"Well, you're not right," he said, a noise that was supposed to be laughter huffing out against her skin. "You're dead wrong."

"Say that again," she whispered.

"Wrong. You're wrong, Karen."

She turned to face him, her lips finding his with no difficulty at all. She tilted her head into a bruising kiss, her arms flailing for a moment, but soon wrapping around his shoulders, fingers moving up the back of his head and into his hair.

She felt his teeth drag against her lower lip and she ended the kiss briefly. "Say it again, Frank."

"You are absolutely wrong."

His arms wrapped around her lower back, bowing her against his body as his lips found hers again.

#Kastle #Frank/Karen #Karen/Frank #Frank Castle #Karen Page #rated m #lime #conversation heart prompts 2019 #wickedwriter916

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willieloomissavescollinsport · 5 years

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Hawkes Harbor Review

"Surely, Louisa, you are not suggesting I take Jamie to Disneyland."

After a bestselling author's work is rejected, in a move of irony & karma, Dark Shadows finds ITSELF the subject of plagiarism. And now, brought to you by the letter 'H', here is my review of Hawkes Harbor by S.E. Hinton.

As the legends go, the novel 'Hawkes Harbor' was originally intended to be an entry in publishers HarperCollins' Dark Shadows series. What changes were made to the storyline & characters afterwards are hard to pinpoint, but for all pretense and purposes, I chose to read this book while mentally changing each character or location to its DS counterpart:

Jamie Sommers..........Willie Loomis Kellen Quinn............Jason McGuire Grenville Hawkes...Barnabas Collins Dr. Louisa Kahne...Dr. Julia Hoffman Sophia Marie........................Josette Katie Roddendem........Maggie Evans Richard..................................Roger Lydia.................................Elizabeth Ricky.....................................David Barbara...............................Carolyn Hawkes Harbor.................Collinsport Hawkes Hall......................Old House Terrace View....................Wyndcliffe

This comes in handy mostly because, with the exception of the 3 male leads, not many details are given regarding the other individuals mentioned in passing or who enter the storyline from time to time.

The plot itself more or less follows Willie's storyline early on the show, with some added details & flashback accounts to his time spent with Kellen/Jason, along with a few other changes. For starters, Jamie gets more tail in a chapter of this book than Willie could ever hope to get throughout his entire run on the show. He gets it on with a rich bitch who scratches his back up; with Katie/Maggie, IMMEDIATELY after Grenville/Barnabas kidnaps her; with two girls on a cruise ship, at the same time. Hell, even the book's equivalent of Nurse Jackson climbs into bed with him to give him a pity handjob.

Whereas onscreen, I think Willie only got as far as copping a feel while holding Maggie hostage.

And as I mentioned before, there are rather large sections of the book devoted to Jamie/Willie's backstory, which had previously been unexplored in the show's official canon. The story begins by showing Jamie/Willie, an out of wedlock child with a dying mother, being placed in an orphanage at the age of 7. There, his mother's heirloom crucifix necklace is taken away from him, hinting at his future fascination with shiny trinkets. In his adulthood, he enlists in the Navy & later befriends Kellen/Jason after defeating two Hawaiian men in a brawl.

For the years to follow, Kellen & Jamie primarly travel together on the high seas, makin' cons, makin' scams & fightin' round the world. During the course of their adventures: Jamie is accused of rape by a rich heiress who seduced him; Kellen tells a story where the punchline involves a frozen sausage; and the two are robbed by pirates while a shark attacks Jamie as he dives for a ruby.

After their resources are dried out, the duo end up back in the states in the town of Hawkes Harbor, Delaware/Collinsport, Maine. Which, of course, is where these characters were introduced on Dark Shadows. But since this isn't suppose to be a Dark Shadows novel, some of the details have been mixed around. For starters, instead of Kellen being Lydia/Elizabeth's husband's two-timing friend, HE is her husband. They were married overseas while Lydia/Elizabeth was working as a nurse for the war. After the marriage went sour, Kellen took a buyout to produce a death certificate, vanish & allow her to go back to her family as a widow.

Posing as the brother of Lydia's late husband, Kellen moves into the grand family mansion & collects clothes & money while Jamie stays at a boarding house nearby. There, he befriends one of the workers: Katie Roddendem/Maggie Evans, as well as her little sister Trisha(/Amy, perhaps?) & their mother, Mrs Pivens (who seems to be playing the role of Mrs Johnson, as evidenced by this line: "Well, my landlady, Mrs Pivens, she liked me. Don't ask me why-'cept she had a son around my age, he turned out bad. I guess she wanted to believe guys like us were good, deep down somewhere.") Ricky Hawkins/David also forms a bond with Jamie & later tells him of buried pirate treasures located in the caves of a nearby island, said to be haunted.

With just that information to go on, Jamie foolishly goes a treasure huntin' & unchains a coffin revealing vampire Grenville Hawkes/Barnabas Collins. Grenville, who's sounds more like a chain of motels than a scary vampire, puts Jamie under his power & to work on restoring Hawkes Hall/Old House. Now, it is worth mentioning that some changes were made to Grenville, from the Barnabas we all know & love/hate. Most notably, Jamie describes him as being around the age of 50, with no trying to pretend that the middle aged vampire was 25 when confined in a coffin. In addition, Grenville has had *gasp* MULTIPLE wives! One of which produced an offspring named William, which is perhaps a nod to the our protagonist's original name. Guess William also dodged a bullet in that he wasn't named Bramwell.

Some time after Gren's first wife passes on, he marries a young woman by the name of Sophia Marie/Josette. Soon afterwards, Grenville finds himself turned into one of the living dead. Sophia/Josette is all too anxious to join him in being eternally damned, but unfortunately for her, Bizarro-Barnabas will have none of that & decides chokes a bitch instead. Fast forward a few centuries and Grenville spots Katie/Maggie & makes up his mind that he wants Sophia/Josette to be a bloodsucking creature of the night after all! But here's where it gets WEIRD.

Instead of slowly brainwashing Katie into believing she IS Sophia, he plans to have Sophia's spirit, who just happens to be hanging around Hawkes Hall for no good reason, inhabit her body. I guess just like in 'Ghost', when Patrick Swayze jumps into Whoopi Goldberg or something. So, Gren attacks Katie & leaves her alone in the Hawkes Hall long enough for Jamie to find her, allowing THIS exchange to take place:

"Jamie," she said suddenly. "Make love to me." "W-w-what?" he stammered, drawing back from her, searching her eyes. "Make love to me. Now."

Yep, you've only got mere moments to escape, but why not do the nasty instead? I mean, it's not like an angry jealous killer vampire could walk in at any second or anything! Actually you know what? If I didn't believe it was impossible, I think Willie Loomis himself wrote this book. That's right, after hearing about his parallel time self being a famous writer, he thought to himself 'Well, why can't I do that?' And then he proceeded to write a thinly disguised biography of his life, giving everyone a different name & changing the events to the way he thought they SHOULD have happened!

Oh & here's another kicker, Katie/Maggie claims to be a virgin. Ha! Yeah, I know Joe is always shown sleeping on the couch in the show, but I've figured that was because Sam had a short fuse & a shotgun handy amidst his paintbrushes, just in case someone dared to lay a finger on his daughter. Trust me, if Maggie's a virgin, then Carolyn's in the freakin' convent. So Katie is saying that she wants her first roll in the hay to be with pretty boy Jamie instead of Count Hawkins. Actually I wonder if Grenville is even capable of performing such an act. Usually vampires in popular culture are as dead below the waist as the rest of their bodies, & Barnabas never seemed to be any exception. Sure he was interested in anything under 30 with a vagina who walked within his line of vision. But as a vampire, he never showed an interest in sinking anything except his fangs into a young lady.

But, getting back to our story. Jamie & Katie are engaging in some fluffy coitus. They kiss, they cry, they climax together. Cherubs come down from the heavens & sing. Then Grenny shows up & doesn't seem to show any reaction to the fact that some hard core nookie just took place in that very room. But no matter to that, because Grenville has to deliver some corny dialogue to his sweetie:

"Come, my heart, " the low voice beseeched the air. "Come and join me."

"All right!" (All right! Let's get this party started!) Jamie shouted as he struggled back up. "You go ahead and do this, kill Katie, I can't stop you. I seen people kill before-for money, God, or country, and you with your 'necessity for existence.' I even did it myself once. But don't you call it love! This isn't love!"

After that speech, I half expected Jamie to break out into song, but instead Sophia Marie talks through Katie, forming a ghostly glow over her body. The lovers embrace, kiss, cry, the cherubs come back for an encore & Sophia Marie/Josette basically tells Grenville that although she loves him, they can't really be together like this. A ghost & a vampire together? Might make for a decent mid season replacement sitcom, but doesn't lend itself to being very practical for real life.

So with Katie now useless, Grenville tells Jamie to get rid of her. Maybe he just meant to dump her in the trashcan out back for pickup, but Jamie takes Katie & runs for the hills. And who should see them on their way, but a Sheriff Patterson/Joe Haskell hybrid known as Mitch Morgan. To make matters worse, Katie is Mitch's main squeeze & she's been missing for awhile. Mighty Mitch takes aim & Jamie gets 3 bullets in his back, as opposed to Super-Willie who recieved FIVE & recovered in record time!

From there, Jamie is taken to a criminal insane ward & later transferred to Terrace View/Wyndcliffe under the request of Grenville & Dr. Louisa Kahne/Dr. Julia Hoffman. This is where the majority of the story takes place in the forms of flashbacks & remembrances while a physician named Dr. McDevitt conducts therapy sessions with Jamie. Which is an affective tool for storytelling, but I wouldn't really buy as being able to take place. Think about it. Would Julia really allow anyone to ask Willie questions, taking the risk that he might reveal something? Frankly, I've always imagined Willie as being kept heavily medicated & isolated in his room while at Wyndcliffe.

Oh, & while it's not even brought up until much later in the novel, you should know that, much like on the show, Kellen/Jason became worm food some time before Jamie got shot. Worse yet, instead of Grenville merely using Barnabas's trusted M.O. of strangling someone to death, here Grenville drinks all the blood from Kellen's body. And then orders Jamie to stake his friend to prevent him from rising as a vampire. Adding yet another thing to give Jamie nightmares at night.

After several months of being at Terrace View/Wyndcliffe, in following the storyline of Dark Shadows, Jamie/Willie is released into the care of Grenville & Dr. Louisa Kahne/Dr. Julia Hoffman, against the wishes of Dr. McDevitt. Grenville is magically now 99.9% vampire free but it's still alluded to that he needs shovels for misdeeds, which are never fully explained in detail. Meanwhile, Jamie has become the Boo Radley of Hawkes Harbor, with small children throwing rocks at him. And on top of that, from his ordeal & time spent in the institution, he's become greatly addicted to prescription drugs.

Following Jamie accidentally ODing on his pills, Louisa/Julia finally gets it through her thick wig that Jamie just may have problems & observes he's likely suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Although since this takes place in 1968 & that term will not be conceived until 1973, I guess Louisa took some trips to the future that we didn't know about. She suggests that Grenville should take him someplace to relax while he is gradually reduced from his meds, to which he reacts with this line:

"Surely, Louisa, you are not suggesting I take Jamie to Disneyland."

Oh man, I'd pay good money to see Barnabas & Willie in Disneyland! Can you imagine it? Within the first 24 hours, Willie will have beaten up Goofy & been banned for life from Mr. Toad's Wild Ride while Barnabas has already made plans to kidnap Snow White & turn her into his new Josette!

But unfortunately for us, Louisa/Julia has other plans in mind.

"Richard was saying..." she began. His look warned her he had little interest in what his cousin had to say, but she went on. "The Collins shipping industry needed to look into passenger cruises. They are the wave of the future-You know Roger and his puns."

(That above line is NOT a typo, by the way. For two sentences they let the names 'Collins' & 'Roger' slip through without changing them!)

"No," Grenville said. "No." "Of course he offered to go. But you could investigate for yourself. And it's not unusual for a man of your position and background to travel with a valet."

So, Grenville & Jamie are off to the high seas in a high class cruise ship. Jamie manages to come down off his drug dependency while he spends his vacation having nonstop threesome with 2 babes who hang on him like bark on a tree. Grenville also finds time to cheat on Louisa/Julia score with an older lady by the name of Leslie while on board. This leads to another quotable line:

"So Grenville," Jamie said conversationally, "yours give good head?"

Greetings from Commodore Cruise Line! Wish you were here. Love, Jamie.

Yep, Jamie/Willie & Grenville/Barnabas discussing oral sex. An area most fan fiction writers wouldn't even dare venture towards. But all good things must come to an end, including the boy's pleasure cruise & they return to Hawkes Harbor with Jamie greatly improved & more confident in himself. In time, he becomes a productive member of society, working odd jobs & donating his services to schools & charities.

The book then flashes forward 10 years where Jamie has become Harvey Lacey & lives a content comfortable life with his former captor. That Christmas, Grenville 'Last of the Big Time Spenders' Hawkins gives him a quilt. Jamie gets to enjoy it for exactly one night before a deer crashes into the car while he's driving Grenville home. He dies moments later & meets Kellen/Jason in heaven. Kellen claims that Jamie's act of lighting a candle & saying a prayer, allowed him into a much less fiery accommodation in the afterlife, but personally I think he just had some dirt on God & blackmailed his way through the pearly gates. The two sail off into the sunset of the great beyond. The End.

So that's the book. It has its pros & its cons, but it actually might have been much better if released as originally written, with the characters' names, places & events as we know them still intact. If you are familiar with Dark Shadows, it's impossible not to associate the book with it & become annoyed with some of the changes. While if you're NOT acquainted with the show, you're very likely to read the novel not being completely clear of the characters' personalities or motivations. It's really a no win situation.

In general, I like the way Jamie is written. But I think he's made out to be too much of a Gary Stu in some parts of the book. For one thing, Jamie is written as being primarily well liked by anyone he comes across, whereas this is certainly not the case for Willie. Early on, he insults & gets into fights with nearly anyone he meets. Jamie acts as an older brother towards Ricky & Trisha while Willie is mostly seen just throwing David's ass out of the Old House. The character of Katie is deeply fond of Jamie, going as far to name one of her sons after him. Regarding Maggie & Willie, early on she deeply despises him as he continually comes on to her, even when she makes it perfectly clear that she is not interested. After he is shot & she comes to believe in his innocence, her feeling towards him becomes one of friendship. But it's still more of a commiserative manner rather than romantic as Willie would like to believe. Often her interactions with him come off as if she's dealing with a child or slow minded adult.

And in turn, I think many of the secondary characters seem to have been made less likable, perhaps to make Jamie even more of the hero. The Hawkeses are described in brief as simply a family of rich snobs. Richard/Roger has to be taken to detox clinics, Barbara/Carolyn gets involved in one scandle after another. Granted the Collins themselves were far from perfect, but never near the level of arrogant highbrows as they are presented here as the Hawkeses.

Dr. Louisa Kahne is also written as a very flawed individual. In addition to being extremely controlling towards Jamie, it is mentioned by Dr. McDevitt that Louisa barely has any medical training or knowedge & yet goes around acting as a doctor. And while I'm not gonna defend Julia's treatment of Willie which ranges from small acts of kindness to being a complete bitch, I think it's unfair to quickly write her up as an unqualified quack. Her Doctor Feelgood reputation of passing out sedatives like Halloween candy precedes her, but Julia has been shown treating vampirism & creating an artifical person, & seems able to handle whatever injury or emergency is thrown at her on a daily basis.

But while we're on the subject of the Queen of Barbiturates, I do want to discuss a subject which I thought the book did well in covering. Which is in dealing with Jamie's health & mental state. On Dark Shadows, after Willie is shot enough times to kill a person two times over & regains consciousness from his coma, he is shown as being in a great amount of pain. And furthermore, he appears to have undergone a complete mental breakdown. Showing signs of amnesia (whether genuine or as a protective defense), he seems to have regressed to his state after being attacked by Barnabas, begging for it not to be dark & for no one to hurt him.

When we next see Willie a few months later at Wyncliffe, he claims to be physically strong as ever, but is still showing occasional signs of delusions, bad decisions, as well as sparks of his old mean demeanor that was repressed after being bitten. Miraculously, following his release, his mental state actually seems to improve over time, even while he is seen getting thrown into one dangerous situation after another. This I've always found hard to believe, especially considering Willie's parental caregivers rarely give him a thought of concern at all.

Willie: (After being forced to dig up a corpse & bring it back to the Old House) "You know, every time I touched it I felt sick. When I came back here I couldn't even go to sleep. I put it down here & I went to my room & I just lay there, Barnabas!" Barnabas: "Well, next time Julia will give you a sedative."

Yeah, I don't find it hard to picture Willie becoming dependent on painkillers & tranquilizers with his environment or the health problems that would come from 5 bullets in the back. But by this point, Willie mainly served as a background character, carrying out duties for Barnabas & Julia, with limited insight into his own personal life, or lack thereof. After all, what reason did the writers have to give his character a story arc of his own, when the viewers seemed content with watching Barnabas repeatedly pine on a lost love or mope over his vampire state?

But that's where its the viewer's job to watch, observe, read between the lines & ponder the untapped stories, feelings & adventures for characters who remain a mystery. And for that, despite some of the book's shortcomings, S.E. Hinton has done a respectable job in trying to make the reader better understand the character of Willie Loomis. Or Jamie Sommers, as she chooses to call him. Or if nothing else, I'm at least thankful that the author wanted to give Willie his moment in the spotlight.

#dark shadows #willie loomis #hawkes harbor

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oohfluffy · 6 years

Text

Tie | KMS

Group: EXO

Member: Kim Minseok

Theme: Fluff | Angst | Rated M

Word Count: 4,158

You were getting behind in some of your classes because of a certain professor.

(Warning: Mature content ahead)

"I—"

"Don't even try making up excuses for the hundredth time, (y/n)! You're not just at the edge of failing your Science and Technology class but also your Mathematics! Those are major subjects and yet you choose to laze around?"

Her glasses were pointed at both ends, giving a bitch vibe from her. Her eyes were intimidating, like piercing through your skull with just a glance. Her formal and perfect posture when she just stand there or sit. Her words that were always direct and full of criticism, not even considering how will the other might feel.

She's the dean in the university you're currently studying at.

"I'm not lazying around. I was just caught up with something—"

"Something?" She scoffed, her eyebrows raising sarcastically. "Or someone?"

"Mom, I swear I'll get back in the game ten times better than the last semester." You bit your lower lip, eyes determined to stare into hers until she gets convinced.

Yes, unfortunately, the person sitting behind the desk in the dean's office is your mother.

She stared at you for a long while that you almost felt your eyes closing if not for the creak her swivel chair made as she stood up, making you widen your eyes. You stood up straight, your hands behind you. She stopped two feet away from you, causing you to almost back away as her gaze didn't falter.

Even if she was your mother, the intimidation that the other students feel whenever she's near doesn't give you an exception. Somehow, that just sounds so sad.

"I know you will, honey." Her soft voice slightly surprised you. Her hand reached out to your cheek, patting it lightly as she gave a small smile. "I'm sorry if I shouted at you. I'm just worried."

You shook your head as you said, "That's fine. I understand, mom."

"Okay." She closed the gap between the two of you and took you in her arms. "If you're having a hard time, even though your mom is struggling as well, you can ask for anything, okay? I'm always here."

You hugged her back, cherishing her warmth and this rare time that she comforts you. She was truly a busy woman, not even completing her three meals a day because of work. Maybe that's why you got so distant to her.

Ever since your father left you, separating with your mother even though he was the only one who wanted it. Your mother was just too kind-hearted and loved him too much to hold onto him tighter.

How can you try to make someone stay when he doesn't want to?

That's why, she'd decided to let him go.

"Go." Your mother pulled back, her stoic face coming into your view. "Classes will start in a few. Do your best." She turned around and went back to her desk.

You smiled, "I love you, mom."

Despite her straight face, her eyes lit up and her lips curled up into a sweet smile.

"I love you too, sweetie."

—

"Mm." Your English professor, Mr. Kim Minseok, hummed as his eyes traveled around the room, searching for someone to question.

Luckily, you were the only one who was diligently scribbling on your notebook. And that easily caught you professor's attention, the sides of his lips lifting up in a smirk. The rest of the class was just looking at him, may it be admiring his godly features or in fear of being called if they don't look at him when he does at them.

"(Y/n)."

At the mention of your name, your pen almost got out of your grasp, your hand unclasping in surprise. Your eyes drifted at the person's crotch in front of you, you felt your throat dry. You quickly looked up at him and almost cursed when you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Kim?" You slowly stood up as you felt numerous eyes following your movement. Your professor stood just in front of your table, letting you see him up close that other women would die for.

"Please read the next paragraph." He nodded his head towards the opened book at your table. You quickly made a move and took your English book on top of your table.

"Uhm." You cleared your throat as you felt his burning gaze on you. You read the paragraph with your eyes first before opening your mouth—

"Ah, I just had an excellent idea." You bet it was the opposite. "Let's read the English dialogue of the Forbidden Lovers written by David Brett, shall we, Ms. (Y/n)?"

You knew he was challenging you as usual. And you knew you were going to be up for it whatever happens.

That's what he does to you.

"Understood." You nodded, earning a triumphant grin from him.

"My love, run away with me."

His perfect English accent almost made you swoon but you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration and spoke, not noticing how your professor gnaw his lower lip as you did. The audience, which is your classmates, watched with their eyes more focused on him than you.

"I'm afraid I cannot do so, my dearest. I'm eternally tied within this castle."

Your professor's eyes didn't leave your face, making your cheeks hot as you felt them. He probably knew the dialogue by heart since he wasn't even glancing at his own book while he spoke.

"I will take you away whatever happens. Remember that we're the only ones who are eternally tied to each other, my love."

You took the little courage you have and glanced at him. His cat-like eyes lit up as he met yours, his pinkish lips twitching when you replied.

"I'll be glad to be taken away by you, Mi—Pablo."

You coughed as you looked down, cheeks burning as you mentally face-palmed yourself for making an adorable mistake. He is truly a distraction for everything. You saw your professor hide his mouth with his fist, grinning as he nodded in approval. You lightly scoffed but a smile made its way on your lips.

"Thank you, Ms. (Y/n)." He said as he walked back to his desk, the bell exactly ringing for dismissal. His hands clasping together as he smiled at the class. "Well, that was an interesting one. Let's continue our discussion about English literature on our next meeting. You may all go."

Murmurs filled the room as everyone got their things before getting out of the room. Some even stopped by Mr. Kim's desk and chatted for a bit, some asking questions about the lesson, and some, well, tried flirting with him but to no avail. He just kindly made them go home in an instant.

You purposely slowed down your movements as you watched the entire class disperse from the room. When the last boy, Chen, who joked around with your professor for a bit finally went out, Minseok stood up and closed the door.

You quickly stood up and ran to him. He turned around just in time, his arms already spread out as if he knew what was coming.

"I knew you missed me." He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you, inhaling your sweet strawberry scent that he loves. You snuggled closer and squeezed his waist tenderly. "You almost said my name earlier. What a bad girl."

"Shut up, Mr. Kim." You mumbled as you closed your eyes, lips brushing against his bare collarbone. He hummed as he felt your breath against his neck, hands threading through your dark brown silky hair.

"You okay?" Minseok asked, his chin placed on top of your head, body slightly swaying with your own.

"Why are you asking?"

"You are working extra hard earlier and you weren't looking at me. That's why I called you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

You slightly pulled away and looked at him. His eyes were covered with his hazel colored contact lenses, making them even more beautiful like a cat's as he blinked. His lips naturally pinkish as if wanting to be kissed—

So you did.

Minseok's hold against you tightened as your arms snaked their ways around his neck. His lips were moving in-sync with yours, tongues dancing with an unheard rhythm. His hands sliding down from your waist to your ass, gently kneading the covered flesh. You moaned at the sensual contact, making Minseok groan back, aroused by the cute little sounds you make.

"Baby, something's wrong." He mumbled as his kisses went to your cheek, making you sigh in glee but at the same, in worry. "Tell me."

"It's nothing for you to—"

"Here we go again." Minseok grumbled as he bit on your ear, taking the tip of it in between his teeth.

"I'm serious, Minseok. This is nothing but my own issue to worry about."

"But whatever you worry about, makes me worry too."

"That's why you don't have to know about it." You almost squealed as he suddenly lifted you up, legs wrapped around his waist. He walked towards his desk and placed you on top of it. His eyes mesmerizing yours as usual.

"Dummy, not knowing what's going on your mind will make me worry about you more." He chuckled, poking your waist with his index finger. You slightly pouted at him, earning a peck on the lips from him. "It's your mother again, am I right?"

"You always are, baby." You muttered as your fingers found his black necktie, playing with it with your upper teeth grazing your lower lip. "I love this tie."

"Stop moving away from the topic at hand, Ms. (Y/n)." Minseok growled, his fingers gripping onto your hips tighter. You flinched as you felt the pressure his fingers produced. You wanted to close your legs together but he placed himself in between them, hips almost pushing against each other as his rock-hard member pressed against your core.

"I-I'm not moving away—" You unconsciously moaned as he slightly ground his hips against yours. "M-Minseok."

"Mmm?" His eyes were closed as he continued his deadly ministrations, lips grazing on the part of your shoulder where it meets your neck. "We won't go home unless you tell me, baby."

"Argh! Fine." You rolled your eyes as he smiled against your skin. "I just feel guilty about nearly failing two of my major subjects and making mom stress over it. I feel like I haven't given my 100% and—"

"—I don't deserve mom's hardwork." Minseok continued, his hand caressing your hair tenderly as he looked at you. You looked away, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. "That's it?"

"Yeah." You mumbled as you quickly hid your face on his neck, erasing the sexual tension building up earlier. "Am I being stupid?"

"No, no. You're not, baby." He chuckled, hands cradling your head as he made you look at him. "It's good to know that you're concerned about your mother's thoughts and feelings. Just don't push yourself too hard, okay? I don't want my baby being restless all the time. I'll help you."

You smiled as he combed your hair with his slender fingers.

"Can I stay at yours tonight?"

"My home is yours as well, baby."

—

No.

"Mom, let me expl—"

"No!" Her voice was uneven but the rage was so apparent that you can't help but to cower down on your seat. "I've let you off the hook with the failing grades because I know you can fix it but this—" Your mother tightly closed her eyes, her lips zipped as if refraining herself to say more. "I can't accept this."

Your eyes welled up as you held the envelope in your shaking hands.

"I assume he is the reason you're failing too?" Your mother said as she leaned her back on her chair. "That's not even the worst case! He is a well-known professor in this university for goodness' sake, (y/n)! What will you do if this breaks out?!"

You sobbed as you gripped on the envelope containing horrible photographs by an unknown person.

She wasn't supposed to know.

Well, not until you've graduated.

Everything happened too quick earlier that you just found yourself getting slapped by your mother after she called you out from your English class. Minseok even had his worried face on when he nodded as you went out and followed your mother's secretary. You thought your mother will just nag you about your grades or behavior again.

You didn't know that it will be different this time.

"You even spent nights in his house?"

You couldn't even look at your mother right now.

You love Minseok and you know he feels the same towards you. You wouldn't dare doubt his feelings when you've been together through rough times. He would cuddle with you in his spare time, sometimes play video games with you, help you study the subjects you struggle in, but most of the time, he never forgets to give you the attention and love you desire for.

"You're such a disgrace."

The words were like arrows piercing through your muscles and internal organs and getting cut in pieces, making them harder to get as they're buried deep inside of you. The words were like a slap that will certainly make a mark, a remembrance of your mother's disappointment.

It hurts.

"I-I'm sorry—"

"You should be!" She shrieked as she leaned her head on her palm, hiding her own tear-stained cheeks. "What did I lack in raising you, (y/n)?"

You shook your head as you kept your eyes casted down. You can hear her ragged breathing as she silently cried. You can feel the pain she's feeling because it was probably twice as yours.

She is your mother after all.

She deserves to have a better daughter. A daughter who will follow her footsteps. A daughter who will bring pride in her heart. A daughter who will proudly show her achievements to her. A daughter who will put studies first before love.

A daughter who is not you.

"End your ties with him."

Your head shot up as you heard your mother speak after a long while. Your eyes widened as you felt your heart beating faster. You shook your head as you bit your lip.

You cannot let him go.

"N-No, mom. I don't want to—"

"No?!" She stood up as she glared at you, her eyes red from her tears but they're still wild in anger. "After all the sacrifices I've made for you, just for a man, you'll reject me? What did Mr. Kim do to you, (y/n)?!"

"I love him, mom! You, out of all people, knows what I feel!" You cried as you crumpled the envelope. "I haven't felt so loved and cared for until he appeared in my class two years ago. You were always out, barely at home, and couldn't even last 2 minutes in a phone call. Minseok was there when I cried, lonely and abandoned by my own mother. He silently approached me, patting my head as he sat beside me and waited until I stopped crying. He didn't even ask what was my problem and just lend me his handkerchief. He didn't treat me any different when we were in class. He did not only became a professor to me, mom." You sobbed as you struggled breathing.

"He became my friend, guardian and lover."

Silence surrounded the office, only your sobs were the background music to the painful scenario unfolding.

You'll fight for him.

You'll fight for Minseok whatever happens.

Because that's one of the things you're mother had not done before.

—

Caged in the plain colored four walls, windows covered with thick curtains, cold atmosphere as winter enters.

Christmas break has started.

You haven't contacted Minseok for a while, not knowing how to explain what happened. You wanted to cry as you snuggle in his arms. You wanted to tell him everything you felt. You wanted to let him know you won't give him up.

But you were hesitant to do anything with your mother around. You know how bad she can be. She can just inform the whole university about this professor flirting around with a student and get that man kicked out. You're afraid about what can she do once you step out of this room.

She stayed for dinner, which is unusual, because she was always out in meetings before. She sometimes stay for lunch too but then you two made no progress. You haven't talked to her as well. You feel like she's still mad and you don't want to fuel her fire more.

You were just staring at the ceiling, back laid on the bed, when your phone rang. His sweet voice filling the dark room as he sang.

"You are my baby, baby, baby~ Come on, answer your daddy's call!'

Your lips automatically curled up into a smile as you remember the day Minseok recorded it, saying it will be better if you hear his voice even before you can answer his call. Of course, who were you to decline. How can you dare decline him?

You reached towards you bedside table and grabbed your phone. If his voice was the one to fill your ears, his handsome face was the one who welcomes your sight. You chuckled as you stared at his face for awhile, your thumb resting on the screen. Before he got impatient, you swiped the screen, answering his call.

"Fuck, I miss you, baby."

Your eyes closed as you hear the relief and longing in his voice.

"Baby, why haven't you called me? It has been days since we last saw and talked to each other. It was even in school when you got called by your mother. What happened? Are you okay?"

He was obviously worried out of his wits but you're just here lying around and thinking about everything alone.

"I-I'm sorry, Minseok. I just needed time to be alone—"

"You could have told me or texted me." He sighed. "I was going crazy thinking about you."

"I miss you too." You mumbled as you imagined him beside you, keeping you warm. You craved for his touch and warmth. He fell silent for a moment that you thought you accidentally hit the end call.

"I'll be on my way, okay?"

You nodded as if he can see you.

"Okay—"

Wait, what?

"I'll see you in a bit, baby. Wait for me."

"Wait, you can't—" You words faltered as he hung up on you. "—mom's home."

You quickly typed a message, telling him to not to come because—

"Shit." You cursed as the screen turned black, the red low battery bar innocently blinking at you. You opened your drawer and searched for your charger. You almost threw everything out of it, not finding the cord. You panicked as you heard a knock on your door.

You jumped out of the bed and ran to the door. You opened it and was surprised to see your mother.

"Let's talk, sweetie."

Your eyes couldn't rest in one place as you sat in front of your mother in the dining area. She's currently making you hot chocolate, making it the first time again since it was almost a decade ago when she last acted like a mother at home.

"Should I make you a bacon sandwich?" She asked. As much as you wanted to say yes, you have a more important matter at hand.

"Mom."

She gently placed your cup of hot chocolate in front of you before sitting down, her fingers around her own cup of coffee. She took a sip before speaking.

"I'm sorry."

You would've believed that you heard it wrong but she repeated it over and over again.

"I'm sorry, honey. Mom totally understands what you feel."

With those simple words, you couldn't help but to cry again as if you have never did before. Your eyes closing as tears flowed down your cheeks. Your mother stood up and went over to gather you in her embrace.

Her warmth.

Her care.

Her love.

You felt it all at the same time.

"Let me meet him, okay?"

You nodded, and as if on cue, the doorbell rang.

"He's here." She said, her smile surprising you as well as her reaction. She pulled away and ruffled your hair before walking to the front door.

"Wait, how did you—"

"I approve, my child."

When the door opened, there he was.

"(Y/n)." His gaze instantly fell on you, his eyes softening and filled with gentleness and relief. When he realized that it was your mother who opened the door, he bowed. "Mrs.—"

"Just call me mom already. I know this daughter of mine will marry you in months." You blushed at your mother's words. Despite the confusion, you feel beyond happy right now.

"Thank you again, mom. I appreciate your sincere acceptance of our relationship. I swear I will follow your rules." Minseok grinned, making your mother nod as she opened the door wider for him to come in.

"Help us prepare lunch then. Your first challenge is to impress me with your cooking skills. This princess here barely knows how to fry an egg, you'll probably be the one to cook when the time comes." Your mother continued blabbering embarrassing facts about you that you can't even do anything or even speak.

"Yes, ma'am."

When your mother started taking out the utensils, you quickly stood up and went to Minseok. You tugged on his hand and made him face you. He smiled as he saw your curious, confused and cute face. He leaned in but before he can land his lips on yours, you covered his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed as you stopped him.

"What rules? Since when did you talk casually with mom? Explain?" You said, glancing at your mother by the counter. Minseok knew you wouldn't leave it alone, so he grabbed your hands and stared into your eyes.

"We had a talk days ago when you suddenly felt like being a loner and caged yourself inside your room." You glared at him, causing him to chuckle. "She confronted me before I can even approach her. I planned on talking to her about us but of course, a slap is a must before we can talk."

"She slapped you as well?" You giggled, not even bothering to wonder if it's even appropriate to laugh about it. Minseok shrugged as he caressed your cheek.

"She told me her dreams for you, your future, which might be ruined by me. She actually said such colorful words like 'you, bastard'. I thought I'll never hear the dean speaking foul words." That made you chuckle as you imagined your mother losing her cool. She was always calm, that's why it's kind of amusing to see her out of it in front of others. "She told me how she loves you so much and she doesn't want me to take you away."

You smiled as your mother got aprons out of the cabinet. She has her beautiful smile that she rarely wear.

"She just loves you too much and she's willing to let you go now."

Just like before.

"I'm glad everything turned out fine." You mumbled as you embraced your lover, sighing as you felt his warmth spreading around you. "I was scared but I knew I wouldn't just let you go even if she told me to."

"You and your mom seem like the opposites." He commented, kissing the top of your head as he pulled away. "She told me her rules though. I was forced to nod my head to whatever she says." He muttered, glancing at the kitchen as if he's afraid to be caught by your mother. You giggled as your mom didn't seem to care about how you two were too close and continued to talk by herself as she took out different ingredients and pans. You hummed, fingers encasing the black tie he's wearing.

"My favorite tie." You whispered as you stared at the simple piece of silk.

"Mm." Minseok eyed your fingers as they caressed his black tie. He swallowed as he felt your nails slightly scraping his chest. "Maybe we can use it later?"

"Use it for what?" You innocently questioned, eyes boring into his. He smirked, pulling you closer by the waist.

"You know—"

"Lovebirds, please restrain yourselves. Mom is here."

You chuckled as you both pulled away from each other, hands still laced together as you walked towards the kitchen.

"I want to learn how to cook too." You cheerfully said.

"I can teach you, baby." Minseok whispered at your side.

"I bet you're not referring to cooking, Min." You rolled your eyes, pushing him away as you laugh. He just shrugged with a grin while he wore the pink apron, making you giggle at his sudden cuteness.

"Let's start cooking then!"

—

#exo #exo fanfics #exo fanfiction #exo x reader #exo x you #xiumin x reader #xiumin x you #exo fluff #exo smut #exo angst #smut #xiumin angst #xiumin fluff #rated m #exo rated m #xiumin rated m #xiumin fanfic #exo imagines #xiumin imagine

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luimnigh · 5 years

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A Review of: Kill Bill (Volumes 1 and 2)

I’m not gonna limit myself to reviewing new stuff.

Kill Bill

Directed by: Quentin Tarantino

Written by: Quentin Tarantino, using characters created by Quentin Tarantino and Uma Thurman

Starring: Uma Thurman, Lucy Liu, Michael Madsen, Daryl Hannah, Vivica A. Fox and David Carradine

Score: 7.75/10

Watch If You Like: Tarantino Movies, 70′s Revenge Movies, Badass Women fighting other badass women

Content Warnings: Comedically Frequent Gore, Attempted Rape, Torture, Brutal Violence, use of Black Dude Dies First and potentially racially insensitive archetypes.

Spoilers under the cut.

So, this is personally my... I guess fourth Tarantino movie? I’ve seen Inglorious Bastards and The Hateful Eight the entire way through, parts of Django Unchained, and the first half hour or so of Pulp Fiction.

And I enjoyed it. It’s a fun, frantic revenge tale that runs for four hours (Tarantino counts it as a single movie, and I totally see where he’s coming from). It stars Uma Thurman as “The Bride”, a woman who was murdered on her wedding day by a former (much older) lover named Bill and her former assassin friends. Except Bill missed the last shot, and instead put the Bride into a four-year-coma. Now, she’s out for revenge on all of them.

There’s not much plot beyond that, besides the twist at the end of the first half, which comes into play around the end of the second half: that The Bride’s daughter is still alive, and has been raised by Bill, her biological father.

Beyond it’s stylistic flourishes, taking inspiration from Japanese gangster films, Hong Kong martial arts movies, 70s revenge tales, at it’s core Kill Bill is about a woman surviving an abusive relationship and her abuser’s subsequent attempts at punishing her for leaving, and instead coming back to end him and those around him. Thurman calls it a female empowerment movie, and beyond one or two scenes I can see why.

The Good:

Fantastic Action.

Pretty decent portrayal of an abusive relationship, even including a victim who isn’t “perfect” but still never deserved what happened to her.

Quality soundtrack, both in recurring leitmotifs and musical ques, and in choice of licensed music.

Relatively diverse cast.

The Bad:

Once you know Tarantino has a foot fetish, there are a lot of shots in this film that are clearly sexual objectification.

A piss-poor interpretation of Superman.

Torture as an effective means of information gathering, including a truth serum.

Black character dies first, even if chronologically she does not die first.

I am White and Irish, and thus cannot pass certain judgement on the portrayal of Chinese and Japanese characters in this movie, but at times it does feel like it leans quite hard into potentially offensive archetypes.

The Ugly (Does Not Affect Score, But May Affect Your Willingness to Watch):

The film was produced by Harvery Weinstein, so you may not want to support it.

Tarantino himself is a controversial figure, having apparently known of some of Weinstein’s crimes and, in his own words, “not doing enough” about it.

Thurman was injured on set due to negligence by Tarantino, which he has taken responsibility for. They seem to be on decent terms now.

Overall, while I can’t recommend it for everyone, and you’re well within your rights not to watch it for behind-the-scenes events, it’s a fun movie. You can see why it’s considered a classic in some circles.

#luimnigh reviews #tw: abuse mention #tw: torture mention #tw: violence mention #tw: rape mention #kill bill #kill bill vol 1 #kill bill volume 2

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v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e · 5 years

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Blood Communion - Comments Chapter by Chapter

Long post/rant and detailed spoilers bellow the read more cut. So many, many spoilers. Read at your own discretion.

Chapters One to Six:

Starting from the beggining then, Chapter One:

The book starts with the strongest taste of deja vu. I mean:

Not exactly subtle in the nostalgia, eh? It’s amusing, even if does feel like trying a bit too hard.

It’s the very first chapter, mostly introduction and all that. If you ever read VC books you know how it goes, doesn’t differ too much.

HOWEVER - there is something I quite liked on this. The books adress one of my main pet peeves with the two latest books. Why the hell does Lestat acceped this Prince title?

At least during PLROA he showed great disinterest in being a Prince, and I’m happy to see this adressed here

Lestat was always was a rebel character (even if the later VC books are touch and go about the whole thing), and it leaves me a real bad taste on my mouth to see a rebel character in such a traditional position of power, so it does make me happy to see Lestat so openly admit he dislikes the whole thing

I mean I do think the whole thing will end with him ~accepting~ his role or some bullshit but at least is somethingl, lmao

Oh one last thing about this chapter

Christ, Marius. It seems someone woke up on the wrong side of the coffin that night, eh

Chapter 2

Pretty short chapter. Mostly about the destruction of a few vampires who were making a ruckus, but a few interesting bits.

The group of vampires Lestat kills had done some things like making a hell of the life of a vampire called Dmitri Fontayne. They also destroyed one of Louis’ favorite Impressionist paintings. The audacity!

Lestat kills them, but takes no pleasure in the kills. Also this happens

HELL YEAH, please give me some complexity, i’m begging you

Other good bits:

The whole court of vampires bullshit seemed to me that it had been done only because was the carrier of the Sacred Core, and now i guess i have my answer uh

This is so predictable that it’s kind of funny. And sad. Like of course Lestat would want this level of attention and to feel needed and loved like... of course.

The chapter closes with Lestat going to a visit in the old Royale home he shared with Louis and Claudia. It’s bittersweet but I always like that Lestat never seems to be able to let go of this place and always visits or something. His time with Claudia and Louis is the most defining moment of him as a character, after all.

Chapter 3

Lestat goes and meet the Dmitri Fontayne dude, who lives in Louisiana. He was made a vampire by Pandora and loves her, and wants to go to the vampire court but it's afraid because Arjun (Pandora's lover if you don't remember him) is there and he hates his guts and wants to kill him. Lestat assures him he'll do his best to help Fontayne go to the court.

Fontayne dude had a human under his protection that he wanted to make give the dark gift, but the vampires killed in the last chapter had killed this human woman to spite him. He says to Lestat he intended to ask to permission before transforming the woman in a vampire and Lestat is deeply troubled by the idea of setting standarts about such things.

‘I knew that the council was considering this very thing’ and they wanted Lestat to do this??? the dude who once turned a five year old in a vampire?? are you for real. Are you.

The chapter ends in a ~shocking~ twist

Uh-oh.

Chapter Four

Quite a boring chapter, mostly Lestat babbling about all the reformations and stuff he did in his old castle. Introduction of a new vampire called Barbara who apparently is the head of the vampire staff (!) who manages the castle.

As I said, the Lestat/Louis/Claudia family is the most outstanding moment of Lestat as a character. I don’t think he’ll ever fully escape it.

Chapter Five

I deeply enjoy Louis being a lil bit of a rebel and just /not/ doing it, lmao

No Loustat kisses :( just this thing here which is something i guess

Louis tells Lestat about what happened. Apparently Arjun wanted to force Pandora to go with him somewhere and Pandora did not want to. Marius fought with him, Arjun tried to burn Marius, Marius tried to burn Arjun back and since he's older and stronger, Arjun died.

Are-are you for real, Anne? “She had become the very personification of the conflicted, passive, suffering woman, utterly incapable of defending herself” “They’ve become like two wives to Marius”, like - fuck you for making me read this paragraph with my own two years

Lestat asks if Louis saw the whole thing. Louis did not.

Louis missed the two elder vampires trying to kill each other cos he was trying to read... very relatable, i have to say

The chapter is basically the council of vampires judging Marius - or better, Marius judging himself. Every other vampire agrees it was self defense, but he wants some punishment for himself. They do not grant him that and he is forgiven.

Like don't get me wrong I still hate Marius and would love for the guy to get fucked, but for what it was described... it really seems like self defense lol

Kapetria and Amel, the... aliens/birdlike aliens/Atlantis children of the last book (sigh) were there as well. They have a request for Lestat: he has to give the order to kill Rhoshamandes.

Sigh. I’m sick of this guy, but at least it took some time before his name appeared on this book.

Chapter 6

Lestat is Not Happy that they are once again discussing the idea of killing Rhoshamandes, cos he’s the only one who wants to leave the guy alive

Well, lmao, it’s seems Lestat ain’t fucking around

Apparently Rhoshamandes has been creeping around the birdlike aliens and making threats, and the other vampires just want him to kill the dude

Even David is like, just fucking kill him, Lestat, please

Lestat hears everyone out, but still:

Like this is a stupid decision and i'm pretty sure it'll come back to bite Lestat in the ass, but I deeply enjoy seeing Lestat being so contrary with all the other vampires like, this is legit what you get when you make someone like Lestat you leader. You all brought this onto yourselves.

The chapter closes with a brief talk with Pandora, who is happy with the idea of seeing again the Fontayne dude, and Lestat travels back to fetch him.

That's all for now! But I will post more as i read.

#bruna reading blood communion #vampire chronicles spoilers #-#.#--#..#----#long post #Vampire Chronicles #Blood Communion

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