#Andrew should be more padded but

[notacluedo]

I can’t remember if Andrew ever canonically pulls Neil in by the grating on his helmet but

#Features Andrews fave activity: grabbing Neil and pulling him weirdly close #Neil’s helmet isn’t really accurate to anything it’s kind of a lacrosse helmet mixed with an ice hockey one #They bonk their heads together like cats #Aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #the foxhole court #my art #fanart #Aftg art #The anatomy is questionable but fuck it we ball #Andrew should be more padded but

[fandomxpreferences]

Eat It, Twilight

Pairing: high!jake x female!reader, best friend!Bradley x female!reader

TW: drug use, shenanigans

Summary: Turns out you and Bradley are terrible influences when left to your own devices.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: if you read this when It first posted fucked up, no you didn't.

Jake's feet drag as they carry him in the front door and he drops his duffel bag next to his government-issued boots. Usually when he comes home, he knows what to expect. You racing toward him before he can even get inside, a home-cooked meal, sometimes a warm bubble bath with you leaned back against him. 

What he doesn't expect is to hear you giggling loudly in the living room accompanied by a male laughing with you. His brows furrow as he pads down the hallway, slowly peaking his head in to see what's going on. Relief washes over him when he sees you sitting on the couch with none other than Bradley. 

The two of you hanging out is nothing new. In fact, you knew Bradley before Jake. Your best friend is actually responsible for introducing you to each other. Jake's eyebrows shoot up as he rounds the couch and sees a splay of various foods all over the coffee table and he glances over at you. 

That's new. Usually, he would find you watching some chick flick, but as you sit here now, the TV is off and Jake has no idea what has you in stitches. You look up at your boyfriend and immediately burst into a fit of giggles, followed by Bradley. Small chuckles soon turn into roaring laughter and the two of you double over as tears stream down your faces. 

Jake watches you intently trying to figure out what the hell is going on. When he finally gets a good look he notices your eyes are hooded and bloodshot and realization washes over him. He turns to Bradley and sees him in the same state, his jaw-dropping. 

"Wait," He starts in disbelief. "Are you guys high?!"

Your faces deadpan for a split second before you lose it again and that's all the confirmation Jake needs.

"You got my girlfriend high, Bradshaw? What is wrong with you?" He asks exasperated and Bradley gives him an offended look. 

"No, she got me high! Something about us not getting a two-week leave very often and needing to take advantage of it. How could I argue with that?" He explains and Jake rubs a hand down his face.

“In our defense, we were left unsupervised.” You reason and he sighs.

He's just about to say something when a loud gasp interrupts him and his head snaps to look at you. Your face is lit up like a little kid and he's pretty sure whatever comes out of your mouth next is going to be ridiculous. 

"I'm a fucking genius." You muffle with your mouth stuffed full of popcorn. "Like, Einstein-level genius."

Jake can't fight back his laugh at how giddy you look and shake his head. "Why is that sweetheart?" He smiles and suddenly your face gets serious as you devour a cosmic brownie. 

"Because Jakey. I just realized that you should get high with us!" You chirp and he laughs loudly. 

"Yeah, I don't think so." He replies and the pout you give him would almost make him sad if it wasn't so cute.

"Why? I've never seen you high!" You whine and he shakes his head. 

"There's a reason for that, darlin'." He looks to Bradley for help and quickly realizes it's a lost cause when he sees him practically making out with a piece of pizza.

"This is the best goddamn thing I've ever had in my mouth." Bradley moans and you turn to look at him. 

"Even better than Stacy Andrews senior year?" You ask and he stops to think before taking another bite. 

"Okay, second best thing." He concedes and Jake's eyes dart between the two of you. 

You whip back around to face Jake again and give him your best puppy dog eyes. "Please, baby? I'll do that thing you like." You offer while wiggling your eyebrows and Bradley gags. 

"Gross. Keep it in your pants." He cringes and Jake laughs. HE stares down at you for a few more seconds and feels his resolve slipping as you bat your eyelashes. 

"Fine, but it never leaves this room. Do you understand?" He relents and you clap your hands excitedly. 

"Sir yes sir." You salute with a wink and Jake groans. One day you're going to be the death of him.

He watches as you refill the bong and hand it to him with a lighter. He takes it from you hesitantly as he sighs deeply. If only his mama could see him now, giving in to peer pressure. It's not like he hasn't done it before. He broke his D.A.R.E contract he signed swearing off drugs when he was in high school. 

But this is different. He's not a floppy-haired sixteen-year-old anymore. He's a high-ranking lieutenant and fighter pilot with two confirmed air-to-air kills for fucks sake. Yet here he is about to light up in his living room like a frat boy. He supposes there are worse things he could be doing.

You start explaining how to use the device when Jake stops you with a look. 

"This ain't my first rodeo, Cheech." He quips and you raise your hands in surrender. 

"My bad macho man. By all means, show me how it's done." You grin and it breaks out into a wide smile as he inhales the smoke. 

"Now you're really going to be a high-ranking officer." You're barely able to finish your joke as you burst into hysterics. It takes Bradley a few seconds to understand your terrible pun, but the second he gets it he gives you a high five while giggling like a schoolgirl. 

Jake stares at the two of you blankly, wondering what the hell he just got himself into. The thought doesn't linger for long as he takes another hit and leans back on the couch waiting for it to hit him.

It doesn't take long for the light buzzy feeling to wash over him and he feels all his stress melting away. You're about to ask him how he's feeling when he reaches for the box of pop-tarts. 

You watch silently as he brings his hand to his mouth and chews slowly with a faraway look in his eyes. You glance at Bradley and notice he's also watching your boyfriend with an amused expression before looking back at Jake. 

When you see him taking a bite of his fifth pop tart out of his right hand and bringing a cookie to his mouth with his left hand you decide to say something. 

"You doing okay there, champ?" He looks startled to hear your voice and looks over at you with wide eyes before giggling. 

"I'm great." He mumbles with a mouth full of food and you laugh. He's so far gone and even in your haze, it makes you happy to see him look so innocent like the world hasn't scarred him yet. 

You hear water bubbling and turn to see Bradley taking another hit before offering you the glass contraption. 

"Fuck it." You say while taking it and making grabby hands for the lighter. You inhale deeply and hold it before blowing out a cloud of smoke and wait for the fresh high to consume you. 

You don't know how long it's been but your thoughts are interrupted when you hear Jake.

“When did we turn on Twilight?” He asks and you look at the TV screen.

“I have no idea.” You shrug and you watch as Jacob turns into a wolf. 

“Were you Team Edward or Team Jacob?” Jake asks suddenly and your head lolls to look at him. 

“I was team Carlisle to be honest. That man could get it.” You answer and he hums. 

“Respectable.” He nods before turning back to the show. Turns out Jake has a lot of opinions on the series and he periodically speaks up. 

“How’s he going to claim he wants to protect her and the launch her into a table at the speed of light? For being over 100 years old he’s pretty fucking stupid.” Jake laughs and you nod seriously. 

“Well, there’s a turf war between wolves and vampires and everybody in town is too dumb to notice so maybe its something in the air.” You add and he glances over at you.

“Dude, right?!” He says exasperated and you nod your head as you both shove pizza in your mouth.

 A comfortable silence falls over the three of you before Jake's voice rings out again. 

"I want waffles." He declares before standing up to go to the kitchen and you follow after him. He opens the freezer and stares blankly for a few seconds before turning back to you.

"What are we doing in here?" He asks and you have to wrack your brain for a minute. 

"Waffles!" You shout enthusiastically and his eyes light up. 

"Ooh, waffles sound good." He nods before grabbing them from the freezer and walking over to the toaster. He pops them in and waits, confused as to what's taking so long. 

You peek around him and shake your head. "You forgot to push the lever thingy down." 

You can almost see the lightbulb go off and he perks up. "Oh." He laughs before pressing it and turning back to you. 

The two of you zone out and practically jump out of your skin when the toaster pops up. Jake whips around and gasps. 

"Oh my god waffles." He says, seemingly shocked. "When did those get in there?"

Your eyes widen and you look at them skeptically before turning to face your boyfriend. 

"Magic." You whisper and the two of you burst into giggles. 

"Hey!" You gasp while grabbing his hand. "We should put ice cream on these." You suggest and he nods his head dramatically. 

"That's the best idea ever." He agrees and the two of you manage to make your concoction before rejoining Bradley. 

"Hey," You say grabbing both men's attention. "Did you realize that when you buy a bigger bed you have more bed room but less bedroom?" You ask and they both stare at you blankly. 

"I'm way too high for that." Bradley laughs and you join him, nodding in agreement. 

The three of you continue laughing and eating until early morning before you finally pass out. Phoenix has been trying to text the three of you for the past hour, worried because you were all supposed to go to breakfast and you never showed. 

When she doesn't receive any responses, she heads to your house and lets herself in half expecting to find a murder scene. What she does find is much more amusing. Her eyebrows shoot up when as she takes in the sight before her, and she takes out her phone to snap a photo. 

You're slumped into Jake's lap and Jake is leaning on Bradley with an arm around him. Her eyes dart around the room, observing the absurd amount of food laying around and cartoons still playing in the background. When her eyes land on a bong, she laughs in disbelief. 

"Oh my fucking God. They did not." She chuckles to herself and the sound is just enough to cause you to stir. Your eyes slowly peel open and you groan at the pain in your back from sleeping in an awkward position. 

Your eyes adjust to the light and you blink slowly at the woman standing over you. "Hey." You greet and she looks at you amused. 

"Hey, Puff the Magic Dragon. Fun night? It smells like a fucking frat house in here." She quips and you sit up slowly. 

Your movement creates a chain reaction and Jake starts waking up which causes Bradley to groan and throw his arm over his face. 

Jake looks around disoriented for a few seconds before getting his bearings and he squints up at Phoenix. 

"When did you get here?" He laughs and she scoffs playfully. 

"A few minutes ago. We were all worried when you didn't show up for breakfast so I came to make sure you're not dead." She explains and he half nods. 

"That checks out." 

Phoenix looks around at the mess again before turning back to a now barely functioning Bradley. "I can't believe you guys got high without me." 

You look at her surprised and nod at the bong. 

"Well, wanna waste away a Saturday?" You offer and she mulls it over before nodding. 

"Fuck it."

@drakelover78  @manyfandomsfanvergent @ssprayberrythings @disturbedbeautywrites @desert-fern @one-sweet-gubler @callmemana  @luckyladycreator2 @bookchik26 @taytaylala12 @michalkasimp @xoxabs88xox @loveless-simp @withakindheartx @formulapierre @ccristata @shanimallina87 @k-k0129 @izz-ayes-world  @kajjaka @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @phantomxoxo @rosiahills22 @gspenc @chair-things @benhardysdrumstick @cookielovesbook-akie @dempy @wellshit6

#jake seresin #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #hangman top gun #top gun imagine #rooster top gun #jake seresin top gun #bradley bradshaw topgun #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #bradley rooster bradshaw

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Three

Day: Friday, January 5th Time: 11:10 PM EST

Kevin kept making inroads into the drinks. Andrew watched the crowd and sipped his drink at a snail's pace. Neil didn't know what to say to either of them, so he made himself busy. He traded the remaining full glasses on the tray for the empty ones littering the table and headed to the bar. Roland took it from him as soon as he was able. Neil folded his arms on the bar counter and watched Roland mix the next batch. "So Andrew finally gave in, huh?" Roland said. "That looks pretty bad." Neil almost reached for his face, but Roland was looking at his wrists. Neil's new shirt was long-sleeved, but it was made of a thin material meant to breathe easy in a packed club. The ends had slid up his forearms a bit when he folded his arms. He tugged the hems back down, knowing it was too late to hide the half-healed lacerations. As he did so he realized that rumble in Roland's words was all checked laughter. Roland gave an apologetic grin when Neil frowned up at him. "I'd wondered if being clean would cure that hands-off rule of his. Makes sense it wouldn't, now that we know about..." Roland shook his head and visibly forced his anger back. "I don't know whether to say 'thanks' for easing my curiosity or 'sorry' that sobriety has obviously exacerbated the problem. Just so you know, they make padded cuffs. You should look into them." "The problem," Neil echoed, lost. "What hands-off rule?" Roland looked startled, then confused. "You don't know? But then..." "I got these in a fight," Neil said. "Why would Andrew do this to me?" "Uh, you don't know," Roland said again, not a question anymore but a backpedal out of the conversation. "You know what, let's just forget I said anything. No, really," he said when Neil opened his mouth to argue. "Hey, here. Your drinks are done. I've gotta check on the rest of my customers." He vanished before Neil could get more than a "What" out. Neil stared after him, but there were no answers here.

Art used with permission by Smokesontheroof. Thank you so much @smokesontheroof

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #tkm #the kings men #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #abby winfield #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #artists #smokesontheroof

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Never Quite Enough//2

Read part 1 here

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, harassment, mentions of sexual situations, violence and blood as well.

He wasn't expecting you to look this put together.

It was as if nothing had ever happened between you at all. The thought had speared into his heart and gutted him like a fish.

A week had passed, you'd feigned sickness. Billy had agonised himself the entire week, only truly focused on firing Andrew and Walter and the two others who had roped him into the bet and sold him out in front of you. It didn't change a thing. You still wouldn't answer his calls, you still wouldn't hear him out.

Billy was truly, inexplicably, the worst human to ever walk the planet.

He almost crumbled to his knees when he stepped into the conference room the following Monday and saw you busy reading over something written on a while legal pad. You were a temporary replacement for your boss who couldn't make it at the last minute. Your hair was put together, the cut of your eyeliner sharp, daring him to speak to you.

You'd looked up, met his eyes, and then back to the note pad. No expression. No recognition in your cold eyes.

He should crumble anyway.

When you'd addressed him as 'Mister Russo,' when the meeting had concluded and you'd prepared your things to leave, he wanted to scream.

How could he know what his name sounded like, rushing past your lips on a mindblowing orgasm, and still be sane after?

He'd could still hear it now, his name on your lips after rough, sweet sex, your hands in his hair and his mouth latched to the spot above your breast and all he can hear is 'BillyBillyBillyBilly.'

But now, he had become 'Mister Russo,' once again.

.

At least you knew what everyone thought of you now. At least you didn't have to make excuses for someone when they spoke over you, or completely extracted you from every plan.

At least you knew that no one really minded when you smiled, backed away, and returned to your desk to sit alone.

It was easier to extricate yourself... until it wasn't.

Your boss had put you in charge of the new trainee, Dex, who'd just finished college and ached to go to every after-work mixer possible.

He'd pleaded with you to come along, needed the introductions, and you'd sighed and obliged him.

Dex was extroverted, smiled a lot, shy but he could light up a room. Everyone was drawn to him, happy to get to know him.

You just stood by his side, smiled, introduced him to whoever he asked.

The music in the bar was low to encourage conversation, but loud enough to enjoy too. Every now and then, Dex would glance at you and smile, and you'd be forced to smile back.

You couldn't let your eyes wander. You didn't want to catch sight of...him. You wonder what new thing he'd decided to bet on, maybe another woman.

The thought sobers you. You look around the room. There was no way you'd let him do this to someone else-

Billy's eyes are already locked on you.

Shit.... shit! You look down at your shoes.

Well, he didn't look like he was talking to anyone anyway, but you decide to keep a distant eye on him, a little weary that he'd try to do this to someone else.

Though, it wasn't like anyone else was as difficult to be around as you were.

You sigh.

.

Billy can see it.

In the way you limit your interactions, in the way you hardly smile. You look down at your shoes so much and he has to find a way to accept that this... this is what he's done to you.

He can't figure out how to fix it, should he just apologise? Or find a way to include you in more activities so that people can see the real you? You probably hated him so much now.

He sighs, taking a slow sip of his beer, chipping in to the casual conversation of the people around him and he uses it as a way to keep his eyes on you.

He'd really taken your advice- seen a therapist- he hadn't been able to work up the courage to tell Frank what he'd done. His therapist had advised him to work on himself, and not be so focused on chasing you and getting you back. Billy was told to accept the possibility that he may never get you back.

He was going to fire his new therapist.

The want he had for you was so visceral. He wanted to take your hands in his and drop to his knees and beg and beg and beg even though he'd barely knew you. The thought embarrassed him, made him ashamed, made him hate himself.

And still, his mind wouldn't rid him of the thoughts, of your laughter, your soft skin, the taste of your lips. It was like you were everywhere around him, everywhere he looked, all he saw was you. Your influence on him had ruined the very way he saw the world and now he was tainted by your touch.

He watches your eyes fixed to your beer, smiling along to the conversation and not really involving yourself. His chest aches. Every scenario he imagines to find a way to talk to you fails.

.

You bump into him on your way out of the bathroom.

You're not watching where you're going, just trying to think of an excuse to get out of here when you smack right into him.

You don't have to look up at his face. The scent alone sets familiarity into your bones and you know it's him by the grip of his hands on your shoulders and the shine of his shoes.

"Sorry." You say quickly, pulling out of his grip to step to the side. He moves with you, and you sigh, staying in place when he moves again to get out of your way.

"Don't apologise to me," He says softly, voice barely abovea whisper, "I don't deserve it."

You nod, turning away, pausing when he says your name, your eyes fall shut at the sound.

"I never- none of it- you're not-" he lets out a frustrated breath, shaking his fist. You think you should just put him out of his misery and walk away.

"You mean a lot to me." He finally blurts when you take a step away from him. You blink down at the floor.

"I can't stop thinking about you." He finishes.

You finally look up into his eyes, and you watch his breath catch in his throat.

"You really are a good actor," you muse to yourself, "If I didn't know any better I'd think it were true."

"It is. It is-"

The shake of your head stops him from speaking, a wry, upward tilt of your lips

"I know better now. It won't work on me." You say, walking away.

.

Maybe he was getting triple to get you back? You ponder, staring into the amber liquid of your beer. Maybe he was making double or nothing if he managed to lure you back into his arms. A little game of how low were your standards? Or how good at manipulation was Billy?

Regardless, it wouldn't work, because you couldn't really feel anything anymore. There was no love or hate or anger inside of you. There was... nothing, and you'd hoped Billy could see it in your eyes when you looked at him.

.

It was worse than dying. To have you look at him with empty eyes. The stabbing feeling in his chest wouldn't go away. Did you really not feel anything for him anymore? He remembers only a week ago when your eyes had been warm with the aftereffects of your orgasm. You'd smiled at him as you came down from your high, kissing him in the heat of the moment, he could still taste you on his tongue.

But when you'd looked at him just now. It was like you didn't even know him.

He rubs at his chest, deep in thought, only blinking up when someone asks him his opinion.

.

Dex won't stop flirting with you. You don't know how to tell him you're not interested. He smiles and he bumps his shoulder against yours and you return his smile with a smaller one of your own but you know he's not going to give up.

So, in your desperation, when he asks if you have any pets, you respond easily with, "Not me, but my boyfriend has a cat named Butter."

You see it, the flinch of his eyebrow as he processes your words.

"Oh? You have a boyfriend?" He asks casually.

You slam your brain trying to remember any details you have about Butter's owner."

"Yeah. Matt, he's a- a lawyer." You say, smiling.

Oh, but this actually opens up a lot of doors for you, because while Dex pulls back on his flirting, you get to glance at your phone, with a smile.

"Speaking of, Matt's working late tonight so I'll have to leave soon to feed Butter." You grin, feeling like you've accomplished the impossible by creating a fake boyfriend.

You slip off your seat, rising to a stand.

"I'll see you on Monday, yeah? Have fun." You wave goodbye.

Dex doesn't protest and you grin the entire way out.

Until the cold air of the night hits you and you realise that you just made up a fake relationship, because you're not good enough to have a real one.

You sigh.

.

Regardless, your imaginary boyfriend Matt means you get to shy away from all types of flirting with absolutely zero consequences. It's a little disgusting that some men need to know you're taken in order to back off, but you're not out here trying to change every random man that can't take no for an answer, you're only just trying to survive.

But one day it's not enough, and a client persists on his advances, commenting on the fact that he doesn't see a ring.

So, you go shopping for one.

And you gladly sport the antique ring on your left hand, and things aren't too bad, because you can exist in your shell without friends and without company and with an occasional intruding cat coming around.

And for a brief moment, it's not so bad.

That is, until you bump into Frank Castle in the elevator.

You smile politely, but you can tell Frank is intent on conversation. You make short responses, about some of your sales, and some upcoming deliveries, and then he notices the ring.

You don’t even realise he's seen it. When he goes quiet, you think it's hopefully because he gets the message that you're not interested in talking.

"Did Billy get you that?" Frank asks, eyebrows furrowed, nodding in the direction of the ring.

You know Frank is usually managing other branches in other cities, but you didn't know he was this out of the loop.

"I- you- Billy didn't tell you?" You ask.

Frank raises his eyebrows curiously.

"We- he- I broke up with him." You say quietly.

The elevator opens and you smile stepping out.

"Can I ask why?" Frank's quiet voice follows in step beside you.

Like a deer caught in headlights, you look up at him in shock and surprise.

You're surprised to know he didn't know, but you take a sick satisfaction in telling him. You give Frank every detail you know, watching his face move from astonishment to anger, and you realise that Frank Castle is too good of a man to be associated with Billy.

He's able to calm his anger for a moment.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

You look down at your feet. You can't meet his eyes.

"Yeah I'm fine." You murmur in a light, casual voice, "but I have to get home, so I'll see you around, yeah?"

Frank doesn't leave before taking you into his arms.

The sensation almost breaks you.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, giving him a weak smile as you turn to leave.

.

When Frank swings on Billy, he aims right for the mouth.

He doesn't stop, but Billy is too quick, and when he swings again, his fist only brushes the side of his head.

"What the fuck, Frank!" Billy shouts, backing away, pressed against his desk, one hand pressed to his mouth where his lips is split and bleeding.

Frank though, is calm, he had time on the elevator ride up to figure out what he was going to say.

"She was probably the best thing to ever happen to a little shit like you." Frank spits.

Billy's eyes widen in realisation. There's a long moment of silence, before Frank can see the pain shine in Billy's eyes.

"I know she was." Billy agrees, dropping his hand from his mouth, letting the blood flow.

"I've never seen someone make you that happy. Hell, Bill, I didn't even know you could get that happy."

Billy's shoulders drop.

"I didn't know how amazing she was, I took the bet, and when I realised... I was planning on staying with her, but..."

"But she found out." Frank finishes for Billy, watching the man nod, blood dripping down his chin.

"I want her back, Frankie." Billy says in such a small voice that Frank can almost blink and see a little boy and not a seasoned soldier.

Frank takes a few steps, and Billy looks at him wearily as he approaches, his eyes are watery, and unsure, but Billy doesn't move, accepting of any punishment Frank wants to dole out.

Instead, Frank wraps his arms around Billy, and he feels Billy let out a broken sob.

"I'm the worst fucking person." Billy says into Frank's shoulder.

"You're not, Bill. You just made a mistake, a bad one. You're not a bad person because of it." Frank says. Billy continues to cry.

His tears and blood soak into Frank's shirt, but it's a small price to pay to support his brother.

"Help me get her back... please."

Frank sighs.

"Bill- it might be too late. She- she's wearin' a ring."

Billy pulls away, mouth parted in shock.

"What do you mean she's wearing a ring?"

.

.

.

#billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #my writings #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #frank castle

[creepycrawliesanonymous]

You broached the question over a night of thai food take-out and queueing various jazz music on your spotify.

"I need a plus-1 for my cousin's wedding."

Neiman gave you a look, mid egg-roll-bite. "Nobody needs a plus-1."

"I ticked the box on the RSVP, and I don't want food to go to waste, and I don't want to look like a loser in front of my extended family." You reached your chopsticks over to his plate and took a lump of his pad thai. "That's why you need to come with me."

He snorted. "This is probably the first time someone has asked me to be their date to a wedding instead of their entertainment."

"Alright well I'm not asking you to be my date, I'm asking you to make me look less pathetic in front of my family."

"Because I already-"

"Look pathetic, see, you're way ahead of me."

"Okay." He took another bite of his egg roll. "Yeah, sure. Whatever, I'll do it. Since you need me so bad."

"Here's one off the soundtrack of In The Mood For Love, be quiet."

That's how the pair of you found yourselves in the corner of the lamest wedding reception known to man, you bitching about various family drama and him silently listening to you(or completely zoning out, to be fair he was looking very intently at a centerpiece at your table and not at you).

"That's why Uncle Richard isn't allowed at Sara's barbeques anymore. Are you going to eat your cake?" Your plate was empty, save for a couple of crumbs, but Neiman hadn't even touched his fork.

"No, no, uh. I'm just thinking right now."

"Well stop." You took his fork and scooped up a piece of the chocolate cake in front of him. "Don't make me make airplane noises in front of people that have changed my diapers when I was a baby."

"Jesus fuck, fine. You're so fucking weird." He took the fork from you and stuffed the cake into his mouth. "Happy?"

"You live to make me happy."

"That's why I'm here, huh?"

You leaned back in your seat, giving him a rather pleased grin. Neiman rolled his eyes and gave you his own, more amused than pleased, grin.

"Why did you invite me?" He prodded.

"I told you, you're a pawn in my family mind-games."

"Yeah, but why did you tick the plus-1 box on the invite in the first place? It's not like you were cornered into saying you were bringing someone."

"I guess I just wanted to bring you." You absentmindedly picked at the crumbs on your plate. "I like being around you."

"O-oh." Andrew fidgeted with his hands. "Uh, me too." His ears were starting to tinge pink under the dim fairy lights.

For the first time since the ceremony you had fallen completely silent. The two of you just looked at each other(although outsiders may classify it as "gazing"), weighing the implications of a seemingly innocuous wedding invite. You were the first to break.

“Should we– um… should we head out now?”

“Oh, uh sure.”

“It’s just, I think I’ve exhausted my weird family stories.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

“Sure, yeah, sure.” The chuckle had seemingly also infected Andrew. You collected your various wares into you small handbag (which went very well with your outfit), and reached your hand out as you stood up. Andrew seemed to study it for a fraction of a second, before also standing up, taking your clammy hand in his equally sweaty one. You were in too deep now, but who cares. Nobody was looking at you. Except for Andrew, who was very much looking at you.

“Let’s go call a cab.”

#andrew neiman x reader #andrew neiman #miles teller x reader #whiplash 2014

[darkhorse-javert]

Hazy Summer, Shadowed Days

@flashfictionfridayofficial- Canon complient musings from and about Andrew Foyle post war

Hastings June 1945

He slipped down the stairs in the bright summer moonlight, keeping his feet light. Shouldn't wake Dad, not his problem I'm awake at a god-forsaken hour of the night. He pulls his dressinggown closer around himself, skin cold with nightchill even in the warm air of the summer, pads across the hall and curls into the armchair by the unlit fire, seeking comfort in the familiarity of the moment. But the empty grate stared back at him, hollow, bare a shadow of it's normal self. Bit like me really. 26 years old, and what have I got from it? Five long years flying with the RAF, but my eyes are crocked, so that's out for a job, could never stand being a groundbased teacher even if they'd have me, Debden proved that.

Two-thirds of an Oxford degree in English, could finish that I suppose, I've got the papers, but I'm not the merry young lad who bounced into the Quads all those years ago, can't see myself going back there, with all those who are young enough, even if they had enough places.

Scraps and litter of poetry, all based around war-life and flying, but they wouldn't sell- we all want, need to move on from that, I don't want to be one of those Glory Days Warhorses that were a joke in stories. Who would buy them anyway? I'm sure there were better poets than my efforts who were already published

Might have to go in for an office job- as I said to Sam - but when I flinch at a phone, that's going to be a joke and a half for anyone I'm working with. And what skills have I got to offer them that another man hasn't.

Sam- the thought was a slap across the face, his glib words to her of weeks ago 'I'm going to work on you Sam', ah Hell, what have I got to offer her, such a smart, diligent girl as she is, she's found a job of sorts, as well as helping Dad. If I made a go of it, kept up the freindship and we got to something more I'd be sponging off her even as a friend. And if we got married, what a dream that was, would her empoyer even keep her on? Unlikely.

No, Sam was doing far better off on her own, not with me dragging her down like a stone, an old figure in a young skin, scraping around for what I can get, nothing to get it with. Can't even fish well.

"Andrew?"

He turns, Dad a soft dark figure in the doorway,

"Sorry, couldn't sleep."

"Mmm", Dad walks softly across, and perches on the end of the sofa nearest to Andrew.

"I wrote a poem, just before I came home," Andrew, looking back at the empty fireplace finds the words flying desperatly from his tongue 'talked about 'Summer Haze', and 'Uncertain Days' -sounds truely poetic doesn't it? But it's more like trying to walk on thick sand, everything slipping about under your feet, tumbling you down... What have I got Dad? Except wrecked eyes, and a degree I can't face finishing. And yet I'm not really really broken, thank God, and I'm grateful for that."

He hears his father swallow, then finds an arm slipping around his shoulders, tugging him insistantly close.

"Give yourself a chance, Andrew, ask around. Give yourself time."

But- but his mind says what if my time has gone, and I'm a lost fossil before I'm even thirty. And I don't want to have to go cap-in-hand to the RAF or SSAFA, leaning on others, Grammer School and Scholarship boy that I was. I should be able to do something.

#introspection #andrew foyle #never trust your mind after 9pm #if having a bad day dump on a character #It WORKS #:D

[hockeynoses]

Obsessed with your writing!! Could we possibly get more of allergic Steve? I don’t have a certain prompt in mind but the way you’ve written him in the past is very chefs kiss

I didn't expect to churn this one out so fast, but I liked that it was vague and then my imagination took over!

Summary: Steve, Eddie, and Robin all live together. Robin is cat-sitting for Vickie, and Steve is allergic. 💖 1.3k

Rating: 18+ This is pretty tame, but it includes kinky!Eddie and there's one mention of his man-parts. 👌

~*~

“We’re back!” Steve announces to the apartment as Eddie follows him in, arms full of grocery bags.

“Okay!” he hears Robin respond from her room down the hall.  The two boys set the bags down on the kitchen counter and start to put the groceries away. Eddie pulls out a box of cookies and smiles at Steve, waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly.

“Those are for later,” Steve says, snatching them away and placing them in the cupboard.

“Aww, you’re no fun,” Eddie pouts.

“We gotta make dinner fi-hir- ha-ehXXT!” he sniffs, “First.”

“Bless you,” says Eddie, giving him a teasing wink.

“Thanks. So, for dinner, did you want to do the pasta or the burg-heh- J-Jesus – hih-EKSSH!” He finishes, stifling the sneeze into his fist. Eddie just raises his eyebrows at him, watching. Steve rubs at the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, trying to quell the growing itch there. “I don’t know where these are com’bing frob,” he says, congestion creeping its way into his words.

“It’s a little late for hayfever…” Eddie says, glancing at Robin’s closed bedroom door. Steve is aware of his predilections, but he tries to keep everything under wraps around other people. There was only so much he could get away with when Robin was home.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he hears the creak of her bedroom door and her soft footsteps padding down the hallway.

“Hey guys!  What’s for dinner?” Eddie’s eyebrows just about reach his hairline when he sees her holding a small orange tabby cat in her arms.

“Whadt is that?” Steve asks, hand still pressed to his nose.

“This is Jennyanydots.” Robin says, holding her up and smiling proudly. Seeing her statement met with blank stares, she continues, “The Gumbie Cat…? From CATS? … Andrew Lloyd Webber?”

“Band nerd,” Eddie teases, glancing from Robin to Steve, whose face is starting to contort in preparation for another fit.

“heh’RRSH!  iihh-TISHH!  kx’GSHT!” He bends forward with the force of them, catching them in his cupped hands. “Whad the fugk is it doing here?”

Robin rolls her eyes. “It’s Vickie’s cat, and I’m watching her for a week while her family is on vacation. Their regular cat-sitter had to cancel at the last minute.”

“Robidn, I’m ah- allergic to caaa- ha-TSCHH!”

“To cats,” Eddie finishes for him, eyeing Steve with amusement and barely concealed interest.

“You can’dt have a cadt in h-here for a w-week! Hih-knxxt!”

“I’ll keep her out of your room!” Robin says.

“Thad’s nodt… ha-GKSHU!” He scrubs his nose angrily. “I cadn’t just stay in mby roob for a week!”

“I can think of-” Eddie starts to joke, and decides it’s probably for the best when he’s cut off by-

“iihh-KSHH!  Heh-tssh! …IITCHuh!” Steve grips the counter for support, coming up dizzy in the aftermath.

“Nevermind,” says Eddie, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“Keep her in your own roob!” Steve argues.

“No! She has to have space to roam free!  If I keep her locked up in my room, she’ll hate me and I can’t have Vickie’s cat hating me, Steve.”

“Whadt about mbe?” Steve asks, gesturing to the mess his face is starting to become. Eddie thinks he should probably grab him a tissue or twenty.

“You said your allergies weren’t that bad!” says Robin.

Having had enough of the yelling, Jennyanydots jumps from her arms to the floor, leaving a cloud of fur in her wake.

“I… hih’KXXT!  Okay, bmaybe I was downplaying themb a bidt.” Steve punctuates his words with a thick sniff.  Eddie looks back and forth between them, entertained but also wishing he could get Steve alone.

“I mean…” Robin looks at Steve with worried eyes. “You’re not going to die, right? Like your throat won’t close up or anything?  I cannot have your death on my hands!  The kids would kill me.”

“Ndo, I’b dnot going to die. I’ll ju-huh-st ha-ESSH!  Heh…eh-KIIISH! I’ll just wish I was dead,” Steve says, swiping a knuckle under his nose.

“You’re being dramatic,” a hopeful accusation from Robin.

“ihh-ISShoo!  Really?!” At this point, Eddie finally decides to run off in search of tissues for his boyfriend, jogging toward the bathroom.

“Don’t you have medicine you can take for it?” Robin says, eyeing the tabby who has sauntered her way over to wind between Steve’s legs.

“Yeah, but- H-hey, gedt-hih gedt thad thigg away frob mbe- hah-ghXXTch!”

“Aww, she likes you!”

“I’b serious, Robidn! EXXTCHH!” He sneezes into his hands, glaring at her from above his fingers.

“Alright, alright, I’m getting her!” Robin grabs the cat and steps several feet away from Steve, but the damage has already been done. Eddie returns from the bathroom clutching the box of tissues, and the first thing he sees is Steve’s face, eyes closed, nostrils pink and irritated. His breath is hitching desperately, mouth open, and he knows the next fit is going to be a big one.

He shimmies up to Steve’s side, plucking three tissues from the box and setting it on the counter. He slaps them into Steve’s open palm and watches as the other man steeples them over his nose. Moving to stand behind Steve, he snakes his hand from Steve’s lower-back around his middle, fingers sneaking under the hem of his shirt.

“I’ll save you if you get dizzy,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. He glances at Robin, hoping she won’t think anything of it beyond Eddie being his usual weird self. She takes that as her cue and realizes she should take the cat back to her room for a bit so Steve can collect himself.

She turns and heads down the hallway with an earnest, “Sorry Steve! Take your meds and we’ll continue this discussion later! Good luck!”

The only response is an echoing, “ha-RSSSH! ESSHHH! ih-hih…gshHOO!  Fugk.” A brief respite allows him to catch his breath, but not for long. With him plastered to Eddie’s front like this, Eddie can feel every hitch, every desperate inhale. He strokes his thumbs against Steve’s stomach, feeling the soft hair there and the defined muscles that contract with every sneeze.

His voice is low and muffled against Steve’s shoulder when he asks, “You got more in there for me?” He feels Steve’s breath hitch as he presses a kiss to the back of his neck. Knows the other man can feel his semi-hard cock digging into the top of his ass.

“heh…ihh-Ha’AETCHHoo! Ah…heh’RRSSShh! IIXXSH! Kk’SHU! Ughh,” he groans, gasping for breath, bent over from the force of them and dizzy with it. Eddie’s arms are firm around his waist.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Get it all out,” Eddie says, running his hands along his sides. Steve’s skin is warm with exertion.  “Do you need-”

“HA-ESSSHHuh! F-fugk, I- hah…ihh’ESSSHHOO!  I cadn’t- hih’RESSSHH!” Curled forward, panting, Steve uses the temporary lull to blow his nose, the crackle of it echoing in the kitchen.

Seeing that the clump of tissues in Steve’s hand is pretty much decimated, Eddie frees one of his hands and leans over to snag a few more from the box. He holds them out in front of Steve who blinks the tears from his eyes and swaps them for the soaked bundle which Eddie sets on the counter. He’ll clean it later, he thinks.

“Guh…dnot ah-agaidn… ESSSH! Hih…hah-ATTSCCHoo! Fugking ca-hah-ATTSSHH!” Eddie holds him steady, hands skirting the tops of his hips. “Why did idt have to be a cadt?” He leans his head back to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, baby,” says Eddie, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We should probably head to our room and get you some meds.”

Steve gives a careful sniff, checking that the fit is mostly over. “Yeah,” he says as Eddie disentangles himself and leads him down the hallway.

“ha-eh’XXSH! We should’ve got mbore Claritin at the grocery store,” he says, holding the crumpled tissues under his leaking nose. “Hih-IISHH! kk’ISSHT!”

“We’ll get more tomorrow,” Eddie says, closing the door to their room and finally pressing Steve up against it. It’s going to be a good week.

#ste/ddie #snzfic #snz fic #snzblr #yes I WAS obsessed with CATS the musical on VHS when I was 10 why do you ask? #anyway yummm I love exploring the different spellings for Steve's allergic snzs specifically #I almost wrote a different fic where they were in a dusty library but this came out instead #I would actually commit murder if it allowed me to be eddie in this situation #snzfics #snz fics

[drewxjackson]

"Love what you did to the place. Less bachelor pad like your apartment and more family." Of course he had seen the ins and outs of this place when he had been renovating it for Chantel, having done things like the tiling in the kitchen, renewed the roof, done the bathroom plumbing. He'd already told Sarah that she could call on him should something be wrong, since he knew where to look. He didn't know how skilled her husband was, but figured it was an offer to give nonetheless. "Come to think, last year around this time you were as single as they came and now here you are. A house, a husband, a second child on the way." Andrew smiled at her, fond and protective, seeing her in her current form. Being pregnant looked good on her. Maternal. Which she had always been. "I'm happy for you." @sarahpetersonruiz

#( convo. ) #( convo. sarah ruiz )

[andrew-buchan-fansite]

Interview with Andrew Buchan, Writer and Creator of Passenger from the ITV Presspack

So, can you just tease what Passenger is about in a few sentences for us? Passenger is about someone going missing in a small Lancashire village, the ripple effect of that on the community and how the town folds in on itself as a result. It’s set in a town called Chadder Vale, a tiny little pinprick of a village on the Lancashire/Yorkshire border nestled in this valley, it’s full of people just going about their business, full of small businesses, a place of safety, security, people who've lived there all their lives. People might not know, but I grew up in Bolton and obviously there's a rich vein of humour running through a lot of northern towns and having grown up in and amongst that and the way that people react specifically to extremes with humour has always interested and fascinated me. I thought if I could write something about a small, tight-knit community and kind of use some kind of extreme event to detonate that humour, then that might be interesting. That northern dialogue that I've heard and loved all my life, and the way people approach and react to huge events in a northern way has always made me laugh and interested me in equal measure. I just wanted to get it down on paper and hopefully create characters that feel real and true, that people can relate to and use that to explore these bigger things.

Was it nice to be creative in a different way to being in front of the camera? Yes, definitely. I mean, acting's where my heart is, but I would say writing is a close second and something that I've kind of always done in little fragments throughout the years, be it writing on the back of bus receipts or in coffee shops, asking the waitress for a pad and a pen so I could quickly jot down an idea. But I don't think it's just me. I think it's loads of actors, actresses who reach a point maybe in their mid-forties, which is where I am, and they think, well, I've been on the receiving end of scripts now for about 20 years now and I feel like I should start the seed of an idea or I should, try and create something and put myself in the arena. I've spoken to loads of actor mates who've all said similar things, I'm certainly not out on my own here. Can you talk a bit more about the cast, where you involved in the casting process? Yeah, I got to see all of the casting tapes, and some extraordinary people who, again, I feel very grateful they took the time to learn the lines and went up for it. The cast that we've assembled has been extraordinary. I wrote the role for Wunmi, she was two years below me at drama school and we hung out a little bit. She's a Manc and I'm from Bolton, so there was that kind of connection, but i've always thought she was an extraordinary actress. Randomly a few years back, I'd agreed to present the best supporting actress BAFTA and Wunmi was on that list, obviously, I had no idea who was going to win it and I opened the envelope, and she won it. That was just a glorious moment of me presenting the award to a mate. The thing about her character Riya is that I wrote a person. I didn't write a police officer. I just tried to write a person who happened to be a police officer. I don't have the intelligence to write a Line of Duty-type thing! That's for people who are far more adept at writing than I am. But I could write a human and that's what Riya is. She's just this restless force, this hurricane trapped in this sleepy village who's wanting to push against the limits, push against the walls and wake people up from their apathy and I just thought, Wunmi would thrive in that part, knowing what I did of her. She's an extraordinary actress and has pushed Riya to the limit and it's wonderful to watch. Can you talk about some of the themes that run through the show? I’d say one of the big themes isn't just about being an outsider, it's fear. I've grown up with it. I've seen it in lads and lasses that I've been to school with. Fear of change, fear of being different, fear of daring to do something that they're good at. You know in life, particularly if you’re a guy from a certain environment you act in the way that you're meant to act, and there's a pressure on you to act and speak in a certain way and be tough. And that's your lot. So it’s about fear, the fear of change, growth, failure. You wouldn’t expect the events that occur in this series to happen in a place like Chadder Vale. Why did you want to make that juxtaposition? Yeah, I think the thing about the plot is I did want to juxtapose the epic and the traditional. I thought that would be fascinating. I thought if I could make something extreme happen to that village, just kind of out there in the background enough for them to go, ‘Wow, actually, what is that? What is going on there? But tonally I wanted to take that to the extreme. I wanted to be bold. I think sometimes you will watch a show that will dare to do something different and sometimes they fail, or there'll be other times you will watch them succeed . And so, I wanted to take that risk.

#andrew buchan #wunmi mosaku #passenger #press pack #interview

[clown-reads-homestuck]

1-50

First real post of my readthrough of homestuck! Just getting right into it.

It's so funny that some random user just named his ass John Egbert.

I really miss the style of just importing really crusty jpegs of real objects into your artwork. It speaks to the mid 2000s newgrounds user that still dwells in my decrepit soul. We should bring this back.

This seems like a nightmare of a narrative device to write around. Though I guess I understand it because it kinda deters just picking up everything.

Do it John. Shit on your desk. This animation is super cute though.

What the hell is the background image supposed to be on this. Also GODS I would kill for a computer screen like this.

Having war flashbacks to when my IRL WoW friends would use the term loot in public like it was nothing. This is the real relic of this era. Also what the fuck kind of username is turntechGodhead. It's probably a reference I'm not getting but I've never seen the term godhead used outside of elder scrolls lore.

This is so quaint in 2023, I mean who doesn't know what piss tastes like. Also this whole exchange makes absolutely no sense if you haven't seen Little Monster starring Howie Mandel and Fred Savage. does Howie pee in a kids mouth in that movie???

I have vague memories of people talking about monocles so much more often when I was a growing up. I feel like the internet had more of a fascination for them back then because fake rich people made us less pants shittingly angry. Also this is such an early 2010s level humor joke jeez.

I thought this motherfucker was TOM from Toonami. Also COOL CLICKABLE pages, I didn't even know this had that. Least not this early on.

This hideous book is a joy to look at. It reminds me of the weird intermission screens in Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

I misread this as making me so hard all the time. I almost blacked out.

This is a lot more word salady than I expected. That's not really a negative though

Not gonna lie a magazine like this would do numbers nowadays. It's kind of weird that a little bit of bro culture kinda just became normal culture for dudes generally. I wonder Andrew Hussie had something specifically against GamePro at the time or if it was just for the pun. Also John why do you own this magazine.

Yooo CLOWN TIME. I guess Harlequins in this case but still I didn't expect clown stuff to start showing up this early. I know Hussie is a clown eboy or something nowadays so I knew they had to be in this.

I would be bing chilling in this living room dude, this is so cozy. Also wtf does John's dad do to afford this happening pad.

Final page! This is pretty fun so far. Stare into the flames John, let your hate go stronger.

Till next time anyone who actually reads this blog!

#homestuck #I think I did the math and it will take 160 posts to finish this project. So in for a long ride!

[sharkneto]

Honestly you could write about your OCs buying groceries or something and id eat that up, your writing is great keep it up

Ah thank you! Around being busy with life, I've been in a little bit of a writing slump, so this is really quite kind of you to share with me <3 I'm so glad you enjoy them so much. I do spend a lot of time thinking of them just doing normal things, so maybe I should write more of that down :)

As a token of my thanks, I give you a snip of Normal Things from the Rob and Sarah Holiday Fic I both wrote too much and not enough of in December. <3

Quick context notes: Rob is the youngest of three - his older siblings are David (10 years older) and Julie (7 years older). Sara (note the spelling difference) is David's oldest daughter who just had a baby of her own.

Sarah luxuriates in her shower. Really enjoys the hot water massaging her back. The soft aroma of her soap. How the steam billows and fills the bathroom.

And most importantly how she’s the only one in the room. Alone. No Walters anywhere, not even her Walters.

When she thinks she’s pushed it as long as she can get away with, she reluctantly leaves the warmth to dry off and rejoin the chaos. Blowdrying her hair takes up a nice amount of time. She considers doing something fancier with it and her makeup to waste some more time, but she really has been in here for too long to be conscionable when there’s fifteen people in a two-bathroom house.

Time to return. She only has to make it through another couple days and then they’ll have the house to themselves again.

“You love them because you love Rob,” she reminds herself in the mirror. She does. There’s just so many of them. They’re everywhere.

In the hall, the door to the guest room is closed – Sara and/or Andrew must be catching up on missed sleep. Hopefully the baby is in there with them. Sarah doesn’t need Carol [Rob's mom] to try and hand it off to her again in a forceful push for those latent motherly feelings she’s apparently supposed to have.

She continues down the hall. It’s unexpectedly quiet, a softer rumble of voices than normal and Christmas music beating in the background, broken as Sarah makes it to the living room and Julie exclaims, “What is that?”

David, Julie, and Rob sit around the coffee table, leaning over a pad of paper. All three of them have their heads tilted over whatever is drawn on it.

David points at some part of it. “It’s a UFO.”

Rob squints. “I got that. How did you get to that from—?”

“No,” his brother interrupts. “No, I did the best drawing of what you wrote. Accurate to every degree.”

Julie snorts and flips the page back one.

Sarah walks over after another sweep of the room – the three siblings do seem to be the only ones here right now. She relaxes. “Are you guys playing Telestrations? Where is everyone?”

Rob brightens at her appearance. “Yes. And you want to play, I know you do. And go right after me.”

“A big group went with Mom and Dad for a walk around the neighborhood. Mom was weird about wanting to see the decorations in the daytime, but I wasn’t going to push it. It got her out of the kitchen and messing with Rob’s system in there. Half of mine went with Michael back to our hotel because someone forgot her phone and you know how you can’t survive family time without that,” Julie reports. “Sara and Andy are back with the baby. Hopefully sleeping.” Her gaze flicks to David, a look passing between them. “And I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than play a dumb game like Telestrations.”

“She definitely doesn’t,” Rob rushes to say. He pats the cushion next to him. “I don’t know why we’re trying to play this with three people, anyway. It works better with more.”

Sarah laughs. “How bad is he doing?” She leans over the back of the couch, hand resting on her husband’s shoulder. 

“Terribly,” Julie says cheerfully. She spins the notepad for Sarah to see better.

“It’s not that bad!” Rob defends. “They’re exaggerating like they always do.”

“You write like a drunk monkey,” Sarah says fondly, patting his shoulder twice in appeasement as he huffs. She looks at the scribbled line on the page, written words only by technicality. “’Cow jumped over the moon’?” she asks the group.

David pulls the pad back to himself as Rob holds a hand up in victory. “How.”

“You know,” Julie says, “one of these years I’ll finally remember to bring one of those primers my students struggling with handwriting get. I think it would really help you out. Just a little practice.”

“I’m not that bad! David always draws whatever he wants. It’s part of our game within the actual game.”

“Oh, Bobby,” Julie says with mock sincerity. “The game within the game is David always going after you so he can destroy how you can’t write words.”

“I’m a doctor!”

“Who can’t write. It’s a really heartwarming accomplishment, we’re very proud,” David says. He leans towards Sarah. “Where in this does it say ‘jumped’. I figured out how this says ‘cow’ and the loops I get how those are the o’s in ‘moon’. Where is the j.”

Sarah points to it. “It’s about finding up and down strokes. And you can’t count humps to figure out u’s and r’s versus m’s and n’s, he doesn’t count so you can’t either. Take in the whole shape. Sometimes he dots the i’s and j’s kind of near the letter they belong to, that helps a lot.”

Rob huffs again.

#thanks for the kind words! #nice things #it has never been relevant in HIT or JT that rob has doctor handwriting #but it is important to me that you all know that he has *atrocious* doctor handwriting #snips #i should have a rob tag #sarah

[middleearthpixie]

Seven Days ~ Prologue

Firefighter Frerin Durin died in a fire set deliberately. But after he helps his brother, Thorin find happiness, Frerin is offered a second chance. He has to prove himself worthy by righting the one major wrong in his life. Otherwise, history will repeat and he will die for good this time. The catch? He has seven days in which to do this and isn’t even certain what his major wrong is.

At least, he doesn’t know for long. 

Syd Prescott has known Frerin since high school. She spent one night with him and then he vanished from her life. Now, he claims he wants to make it up to her, to right was he realizes was his major wrong. But can she trust him? And can he prove to her that she can before it’s too late? 

A/N - This is the sequel to Miss Fortune, but is a stand alone story. 

Summary:  Frerin learns he is being given the chance to return to the world of the living, but there is a catch...

Pairing: Modern!Frerin x OFC Syd Prescott

Characters: Frerin Durin, Tori, the Big Guy

Warnings: None

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,125

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

“Frerin? Are you awake?”

Frerin Durin rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. For the first time in months—at least, he thought it was months. Time had a way of meaning almost nothing over here—he was actually nervous. His stomach twisted tightly, the way it had when he was fourteen years old and found himself playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with Holly Andrews. 

Only this time, far more was at stake that just a kiss and a possible opportunity to feel up the only girl who actually had boobs in ninth grade. 

“Frer?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. The room around him was tranquil blue, with white drapers fluttering on the soft breeze. It was simple and comfortable and he didn't mind being there, but all things considered, if he blew this chance, he’d kick himself for the rest of eternity.

Eternity.

He didn't want to think about it.

He eased his feet into white Vans and padded across the room to tug open the door, where he found Tori smiling up him. Her dark eyes sparkled as she said, “Are you excited, Frer? You’ve been waiting for this for a while now.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly, pulling the door shut behind him. “I’m kind of used to it here. I don’t know how I feel about going back… there…”

She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. “You want this and you know it. And you should. And I’m happy for you.”

“I haven’t gotten the okay just yet.”

“You will.”

As they drew near the Great Room, Frerin’s gut twisted worse than ever before. His mouth went dry. His heart pounded so hard, he thought Tori could hear it, although she said nothing. 

At the door, she turned to him. “You’ve got this, Frerin. I believe in you.”

“Thanks.”

“And no offense, but I hope I don’t see you again.”

He managed to grin. “No offense, but I hope so, too.”

She slid her arms about his waist and pushed up onto her toes to brush his lips with a kiss.

Then she was gone. 

He sighed, turning back to the closed doors. White. Everything around him was white. He’d never seen so much white as he had in the days since he’d arrived. White and tranquil. This had been home for the last six months. The outside world had gone on without him, even when he ventured out into it every now and then. He saw it, but only some of it saw him.

“Frerin? Any time you’re ready.”

He flinched at the deep voice, which was silly. He wasn’t in any trouble Not at all. He was on the Big Guy’s good side, but that voice just… it reminded him of when he was a kid and in trouble for something. He wasn't this time, of course, but some things never changed. 

The doors opened on their own and he stepped into the Great Room, with its vaulting ceilings and columns, its white runner leading to the sunken living room, where the Big Guy sat on an overstuffed sofa, a book open and face down next to him. 

“Frerin Durin,” he said with a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you. Your six month review was very positive and your reviews are exemplary. I understand,” he wiggled his fingers and a manila folder appeared in his hand, which he opened and thumbs through, “you helped your brother,” blue eyes flicked up to meet his, “Thorin?”

“Yeah. Thorin’s my older brother.”

“Ah… right, it says that right here. Anyway,” the Big Guy tapped his cheek with a forefinger, “you helped him not only solve your murder, but…” 

He smiled. “You helped him find love as well.”

Frerin grinned. “Yeah. Al is perfect for him, they both just needed a push.”

“And you helped Tori adjust as well. You realize,” those blue eyes narrowed, “no one else has ever been able to do that? So many have tried, but only you succeeded.”

“I know how she felt,” Frerin admitted. “I didn't want to be here, either, no offense.”

“None taken. You’re honest and I appreciate that.” The Big Guy flipped the folder closed. “All right then, this is how this works. I give you a second chance, you return to your earthly form, the week before your death. No one but you will know what happened, or that you’ve come back. To them, nothing has happened since they last saw you. Only you know and you get but one chance, to right the major wrong in your life and fix it. If you do not right it in those seven days, you come back here and there will be no more chances.”

“Right the wrong? But, how do I know which one is the major one?”

“You will know. You need only think about it.”

“Think about it. Oh, boy… okay. If you say so.” Frerin rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, I have one more question. Or maybe it’s a request. I’m not sure.”

The Big Guy sighed. “Yes?”

“My brother, he’s happy with his girlfriend. I don’t want to see him unhappy. Any way he and Al can be together, even if they didn't actually get together until a few months ago, after I died? I mean, you can do that, right?”

“You want Thorin and Alex to still be together?”

Frerin nodded. “Yeah. He’d wanted to ask her out around Halloween but chickened out. Is there a chance you can make him have not chickened out? You know, bend the timeline a little more than you’re already bending it?”

The Big Guy’s normally smooth forehead wrinkled. “I can, but no one has ever asked me to do so before.”

“I saw Thorin miserable for a long time,” Frerin told him softly, shaking his head, “and I don’t want him to be miserable again. Al makes him happy.”

“Very well. Consider it done.” The Big Guy looked to his left. “Diane, make a note of that, please.”

Frerin had no idea who Diane was or where she stood, as he saw no one else there, but then a soft voice said, “Done.”

Frerin swallowed hard as he nodded. “I understand.”

“I hope so,” the Big Guy told him solemnly, shaking his head, “for I mean it, there will be no other chances. And if you return here, you will not be able to go back, not even to visit your loved ones. Is that clear?”’

Frerin nodded. “It is.”

“Good.” The Big Guy smiled then. “Good luck and I hope you do not come back. No offense.”

“None taken.”

#Gerard Butler #Frerin Durin #Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Frerin x OC #AU #Frerin Fic #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Modern AU

[mermaidsirennikita]

What are your thoughts on the Phantom of the Opera movie?

Uhhhh they're complicated. I just rewatched it for the first time in many years (introducing it to my youngest sibling who was born three years!!! after it came out!!!) and idk. I definitely don't think it's a super solid movie, but I also think it got shit on in a way that I find extremely dated--it's too campy! It's too gaudy! It's too over the top! Like, I'm sorry, have you even vaguely heard of the musical? Even the original source material. This is the story of a middle-aged virgin who groomed an opera singer into loving him while he desperately tries to get up the courage to hold her hand. Also murder.

If anything, I think it could have been more over the top. I enjoy the visuals of the movie (the golden opera music, the wintry scenes, the Sissi dress) but honestly? I'd love to see what the fuck Baz would do with the source material. Phantom should've, imo, gotten something bombastic and bigger and more impassioned, like Moulin Rouge.

I think that Schumacher's directing issues were like, less about the *look* and more about some of the direction I think he gave the actors, a general staticness at points--I think The Point of No Return is one of the better parts of the movie, but when you compare it to how some stage productions have done it, it just doesn't go hard enough. He should've been groping her more.

Buuuut lol he couldn't have, because Emmy Rossum was underage. This is where I go to another issue, which is casting. Now, to be clear, I love Emmy Rossum, and I don't think the general flatness of her performance entirely unintentional or really her fault. She was a baby here, but I don't think the script had a very good handle on how to take Christine from the stage to the movies, and flattened her out a lot more. I do think about what Anne Hathaway, who auditioned for the role as well and is 4 years older than Emmy, who would've been able to embody the burgeoning sexuality in Christine a little more explicitly, would've done with it.

Patrick Wilson is another actor I like and he did well as Raoul, but I think there was again an issue with translating the character--Raoul is not a super popular guy, but I like him, and I actually appreciate his efforts being bigger in this movie, but! I do feel like it felt at times like the script was overly aware of Raoul not having a lot to do. And it's like... if you're padding out a character for the movie... you pad out Christine lol........... not her boyfriend................ Christine is heroine..................

And Gerard Butler... Generally, I'm not a fan, but he does have a couple movies where I think he does a good job. I love P.S. I Love You. That's the best I've ever seen him in anything. I also enjoy 300, for very different reasons. I get why the impulse was to cast a guy who was seen as "sexy" at the time, and I don't think that's a bad impulse. But like, aside from the acting, which I think could've been like... again, hornier, but that's not really his fault, but also just more volatile and vulnerable and weird............ like I'm not suggesting Adam Driver for this role lol, but I'm saying whoever tries this again should really be giving the kind of performance that actors like Adam Driver and Andrew Garfield give, is what I'm saying... Aside from all THAT lol--Butler obviously didn't have the singing chops. And I don't even think his singing was as bad as I remembered, though he does totally shout some lines and his "soar" hurts me. He's just not where he needs to be in that kind of role. He can't put the type of subtleties of emotion in his voice that he should, and tbh, very few actors who haven't done bIG musical work on the stage could, I think? It's a refined skill.

Also, Erik's makeup sucked. Like, it's very funny and adds something to watching this with others, because my sibling did go "where is it?" when he's unmasked and looks in the mirror after Music of the Night. But it's not what it should be, lol.

So yeah. I think it didn't go far enough and it didn't serve its actors well enough, and there were casting issues aside from that, but I like the camp and the extent to which it went gaudy, the gaudiness, and I have a fun time watching it. Especially when I'm drunk or stoned or both.

[fernreads]

In response to the scandal that engulfed the Houston Police Department's Narcotics Division after a lethal 2019 drug raid based on a falsified search warrant, Harris County prosecutors dropped dozens of pending cases and recommended the reversal of at least five convictions. They said those cases were irredeemably tainted by the involvement of Gerald Goines, the officer who lied to obtain the 2019 warrant that led to the deaths of Dennis Tuttle and Rhogena Nicholas, or similarly dishonest colleagues. But that judgment did not necessarily mean that the defendants recovered cash or cars seized by Houston's corrupt cops under the pretext of enforcing drug laws.

Even in cases that hinged on the trustworthiness of demonstrably untrustworthy cops, The Houston Chronicle reports, prosecutors so far have chosen to keep nearly all of the property seized from defendants. That striking contradiction illustrates the lax rules governing civil asset forfeiture, which allows police and prosecutors to pad their budgets by confiscating allegedly crime-tainted property.

The Chronicle identified "three dozen instances in recent years in which an indicted member of the Squad 15 narcotics unit swore to the facts used to justify a search leading to a cash or vehicle confiscation." The loot, collected over a five-year period, included about $75,000 in cash and several cars. "Records show some or all of the money confiscated during the busts was returned in five cases," the Chronicle reports, "typically after defendants hired lawyers to challenge the forfeitures." But the county has kept the rest of the money and the cars, even though prosecutors consider the evidence that led to the seizures unreliable because it was offered by cops with a record of making stuff up.

In 2018, for instance, Goines and his partner, Steven Bryant—both of whom face state and federal charges in connection with the operation that killed Tuttle and Nicholas the following year—participated in the raid of a "suspected drug house." They arrested Andrew Hebert, claiming they had seen him selling drugs outside the house, and seized $11,000 from him.

Prosecutors decided to drop the case against Hebert in light of Goines et al.'s unreliability. "Circumstances in this case impacted the credibility of material witnesses," they told his lawyer. But Hebert did not get his money back.

Also in 2018, Bryant and his colleagues arrested Christopher White and seized $2,465 from his car, claiming they had "observed him make a crack cocaine sale outside a barber shop." Prosecutors ultimately dropped the charges because of Bryant's involvement but again kept the money.

In 2016, Goines and his colleagues searched a house based on a fictional crack purchase. They seized $2,700 from Andre Thomas, who likewise never got it back.

"Prosecutors are currently reviewing several cases related to Squad 15 to determine if they involve assets that should be returned to members of the community," a spokesman for the Harris County District Attorney's Office told the Chronicle. But  they are under no obligation to return anything, because the rules for civil asset forfeitures are much looser than the rules that apply to criminal cases.

To seize property under civil forfeiture laws, police typically need nothing more than probable cause to believe it is somehow connected to criminal activity. The government does not have to charge the owner with a crime, let alone convict him. If the owner does not challenge the forfeiture in court, which frequently costs more than the property is worth, a vague allegation of a criminal nexus is enough to keep the loot.

Prosecutors have voluntarily returned seized property to at least one of Goines' victims. The Chronicle says they "quietly" returned $1,668 to Otis Mallet, whom Goines arrested on crack cocaine charges in 2008. Mallet always maintained that Goines had invented the crack purchase that was the basis for the arrest, which would be consistent with what investigators later discovered about Goines' fabulism. Mallet's conviction was overturned in 2021, after he had served two years of an eight-year sentence.

While keeping Mallet's money would have been plainly unjust, it also would have been perfectly legal. Except in states that require a criminal conviction to complete a forfeiture, the fact that the government does not have enough evidence to prove someone committed a crime is no barrier to confiscating his property.

The Texas Supreme Court underlined that distinction in 2016, when it concluded that the exclusionary rule, which bars the admission of illegally obtained evidence, does not apply to civil actions under Chapter 59, a state law authorizing "forfeiture of contraband." The case involved the seizure of a 2004 Lincoln Navigator from Miguel Herrera, who was arrested after police found drugs in the car. Herrera argued that the search was unconstitutional because the cops did not have reasonable suspicion to pull him over and that the drugs they found therefore should not be considered as evidence to support forfeiture of the car.

The trial court and the appeals court agreed. But the Texas Supreme Court did not, saying "an illegal seizure" of evidence does not "require exclusion in a Chapter 59 civil-forfeiture proceeding." That means drugs discovered during an illegal search based on Goines' lies, although not admissible in any resulting criminal case, could still be used to justify the confiscation of cash found during that search, assuming the owner challenged the forfeiture.

The seizures highlighted by the Chronicle represent just a small piece of Harris County's take from this system of legalized larceny. Last year, the Institute for Justice filed a state lawsuit challenging the county's forfeiture practices. The lead defendant is the Harris County District Attorney's Office—the same agency that is trying to assess and ameliorate the damage done by Goines and his cronies.

The lead plaintiffs in the proposed class action are a Mississippi couple, Ameal Woods and Jordan Davis, who were robbed of $42,300 after they were pulled over by sheriff's deputies on Interstate 10 in May 2019. Woods and Davis were on their way to Houston, where Woods planned to spend the money on a tractor and a trailer for his trucking business. The deputies ostensibly stopped them because they were following another vehicle too closely, although Woods, who was driving, was not cited for that alleged offense. Instead, the cops made off with the couple's life savings.

The district attorney's office filed a forfeiture petition the following month. But Woods and Davis were not notified of the pending action until last August, 27 months after the seizure.

According to the Institute for Justice lawsuit, all of the money Woods and Davis were carrying was obtained legally. The largest share, $22,800, came from Woods' savings. He borrowed $6,500 from his wife and $13,000 from his niece, planning to pay them back after his investment in a tractor-trailer allowed him to expand his business.

The forfeiture petition claimed a drug-detecting dog alerted to the money. But no such dog was present during the stop, which means this alleged canine inspection must have occurred after the deputies already had seized the cash, supposedly based on probable cause to believe it was related to illegal activity. Research has found that as much as 90 percent of U.S. currency carries traces of cocaine, which therefore hardly counts as evidence that the current owner is involved in drug dealing.

"What happened to Ameal and Jordan routinely happens to other property owners in Harris County," the lawsuit says. After reviewing 113 civil forfeiture petitions filed by county prosecutors since 2016, the Institute for Justice found that all of them were "based on a form affidavit written by an officer who was not present at the time and place of seizure." Seventy-nine of the affidavits included identical or closely similar language saying "a K-9 Unit gave a positive response for the odor of narcotics" when presented with the property. Eighty affidavits were written by the same officer who supported the petition seeking forfeiture of the money seized from Woods and Davis, and 92 "involved a dog alert that allegedly was obtained after police seized property."

The lawsuit argues that Harris County's racket violates the state constitution in several ways: It involves seizures that are not based on probable cause; it does not give property owners a prompt post-seizure hearing; it relies on "hearsay testimony" and "cut-and-paste allegations"; it gives law enforcement agencies a financial incentive to seize first and ask questions later (if ever); and it requires owners to prove their innocence.

This process is so daunting and burdensome that 60 percent of property owners give up without a fight. That works to the advantage of local law enforcement agencies. From 2018 to 2020, the Institute for Justice notes, "Harris County prosecutors added $7.7 million to their budgets" through civil forfeiture. During the same period, "law enforcement agencies in Harris County added $15.9 million to their budgets," and "more than $7.5 million of that money was used to pay salaries and overtime to police officers—the same officers who make decisions about whether to seize property."

Harris County District Attorney Kim Ogg wants credit for investigating the blatantly corrupt behavior of Goines and other Houston narcotics officers. Meanwhile, her office, which is hardly without blame for prosecuting falsely accused defendants, is eagerly engaged in money grabs that victimize innocent people and make a mockery of justice.

#article #full text #civil asset forfeiture #police brutality #police violence #us policing #police #corruption #texas #houston

[rudderfurball]

Small interview

Andrew tried not to fidget as he saw the Fennec setting paperwork down beside him. The little maned wolf felt ridiculous sitting on the desk, having assumed the interview would be done with someone his size when he’d come into the building. He wondered if he could have dressed a little more casually, assuming she couldn’t see the tie choking him unless she squinted at him. Heaven knows, the stress was making breathing hard enough for him.

“Name please?” The fennec asked him.

“…huh? Oh! Um, Andrew, Andrew Biggs.” He replied.

She stared at him for a moment, waiting to see if that was a joke. She just shrugged as she continued. There were too many questions left to linger on the first part.

Andrew bit his lips to keep from sighing as he answered all the usual questions. Retail work when they asked about previous employment, 27 when they asked for his age, and a whole lot of yes and no’s to the rest of the questions. It was so hard to keep smiling when he sat through this rubbish.

“Where do you think you’ll be 10 years from now?” The Fennec asked, her pen right next to the micro as she filled in some more of her papers.

Andrew hoped at a better paying job than what he was interviewing for now, potentially a different company too considering the business hadn’t even assigned someone his size to conduct the interview. His interviewers eyes seemed glued to the papers. He peeked at them, and was confused to see mostly numbers. Was she doing regular work during his interview?!? Was she just wasting his time?

Andrew did his best to keep from growling. He was already in a bad mood, and to find out this interview wasn’t going to go towards anything. Something clicked in his brain as he tried to figure out how to respond. If she had wasn’t giving him a proper interview, maybe he should just have some fun.

“Well, who knows in 10 years, I’m more of a in the moment kind of leggy boy. Like right now, I bet I could have some fun if a vixen put me in their shoes.” Andrew said, trying to hold in his laughter.

The Fennec dropped her pen as he said that. “Excuse me?!?”

Andrew moved to her now empty hand, kissing one of their digits. “Oh don’t take offense, we both know you throw the questions away after you’re done with me, regardless of if I get the job or not. Consider this being me seeing if I can take a second job offer if this one doesn’t work out.”

The fennec glared at him. The little man kept standing confidently in front of her, certain that she couldn’t try to squish him in a work environment. He knew this job wasn’t going to hire him now, but he had a feeling the fennec had no interest in advocating before he’d flirted.

Her glare turned to a smirk. “Cute, but how much weight can you handle?”

His own smile wavered. ���Wait, wha-!”

She grabbed him suddenly. “Perfect answer. You’re hired. Do a good work and I’ll see about getting you the proper job.”

Andrew didn’t have time to do anything but scream as he was put in the underside of the lady’s high heel. He thanked the heavens that at least she probably wouldn’t want to walk in these much, her feet by themselves putting a lot of weight and pressure on them. He started to rub and massage her pads, hoping that she wasn’t lying about putting in a good word for him later.

#furry anthro #microphilia #macrophilia #writing #paws #maned wolf #fennec fox

[mach-speed-spin]

Rating Beyblade season 1 drip

1) For once one of these posts that don’t have spoilers. I realized that after I finished it

2) Long ass post. I am rating every fit in the anime. At least I didn’t include images (they are linked if you want to see them, but don’t take up post space

3) The ratings are relative to the franchise. A 2/10 on this list is the equivalent of a 6/10 irl

4) This is based purely on how good it looks. I’m not going to delve into any symbolism present in these designs

5) I originally intended for this to cover all series. Then I realized how absurdly long that was, so I made it just BSB. Then I realized that was still too long, so it’s just season 1

Tyson: 5/10. It looks good, but it also doesn’t have that much originality. The ponytail saves it

Kai: 7/10. It’s an incredibly stupid fit and I love it The tight, probably leather tank top that shows off his biceps is already a lot, and then you have the gauntlets. And the scarf. And the facepaint

Ray: 6/10. I’m generally not a fan of this fit, but god that 5 foot long ponytail is amazing

Max: 1/10. This is one of the few fits that I don’t like at all. Mainly, it’s the orange overalls that stand out too much and don’t have much detail

Kenny: 2/10. Very plain design, and while purple and green should stand out as a color combination, it’s too subdued here

Lee: 3/10. It shows too much of his abs and not enough at the same time. It’s like he couldn’t decide whether or not to show abs and went “show just a little.” The pants also don’t help, but that open shirt is good

Mariah: 5/10. I don’t know why but everything about this fit just works

Nightwear Mariah: 2/10. I get that the clothes you sleep in don’t have to be drippy but this is just alright for what it is

Gary: 3/10. It’s only saved by the hair. I get that they wanted to show his muscles, but they could’ve done it better

Kevin: 4/10. I’m sorry but that color scheme just doesn’t do it for an otherwise much better look

Bruce: 3/10. Basic, but not bad

Shirtless Bruce: 4/10. There is more contrast between the black parts and his skin than there was with black and grey

Michael: 5/10. It’s a baseball outfit, but the colors stand out in such a way that it improves it a lot

Emily: 2/10. It’s very plain

Lab coat Emily: 3/10. The lab coat adds on to an otherwise plain design

Steve: 4/10. This should be a real football uniform

Eddy: 3/10. It’s a basketball uniform

Andrew: 1/10. Leaving aside his cranial anatomy, his fit has nothing going for it. It’s just a very plain basketball jersey, not even as detailed as Eddy’s

Antonio: 4/10. It’s pretty standard, but it works

Billy: 4/10. I like the black shirt with the green jacket, but I feel like something’s missing

Nicky: 0/10. Extremely plain design with no interesting elements to it

Riley: 2/10. More interesting than Nicky, but still very plain

Judy: 3/10. It looks alright, but all the purple would work better with another color to contrast against

Lab coat Judy: 4/10. It’s her regular clothes but with white to contrast against

Douglas: 3/10. Business suit that looks alright but nothing special

Tony: 6/10. Sleeveless? Check. Crop top? Check. Jacket? Check. Glasses and headphones? Check

Andy: 3/10. It’s just ok

Pee Wee: 6/10. Absolutely love the cowboy look

Robert: 7/10. The fit is alright, but the shoulder pads truly elevate it

Armored Robert: 6/10. I like armor, but Robert’s is the least interesting of them

Johnny: 4/10. I like ripped sleeves, but the shirt having regular sleeves takes away from that. I also love the bandana

Armored Johnny: 8/10. I love his armor. I don’t know if it was intentional, but the armor gives him an hourglass figure

Enrique: 4/10. Stylish, but doesn’t stand out as particularly drippy

Armored Enrique: 8/10. I love armor. I love the sword ripcord. I love horns. What’s not to like?

Oliver: 4/10. I’m not that much of a fan, but he succeeds wat what he was trying to achieve

Armored Oliver: 6/10. I like armor, but this isn’t armored enough to be more than a 6

Tala: 7/10. A fiery color scheme with a fit suited for cold weather? Count me in

Bryan: 4/10. Decent, but nothing special

Spencer: 5/10. 2 of those points come from his hat

Ian: 3/10 The goggles save this otherwise subpar fit

Priest Boris: 1/10. I know he’s a priest, but that doesn’t mean he has to look like that. This is Beyblade. He could wear a crop top and still fit right in

Masked Boris: 4/10. I like that mask, but the rest just doesn’t do it for me

Voltaire: 3/10. The cape-like look saves it

Alexander: 3/10. It’s not bad, just kinda boring

Sanguinex: 5/10. “You know how vampires were originally conceived as horrifying creatures, akin to modern interpretations of zombies? And how recent takes on vampires, such as Twilight, have made them sexy? What if I was both?”

Lupinex: 4/10. I appreciate the “dog boy but it’s a middle aged man” aesthetic, but the robes could use some work. They work for Sanguinex, but not so much here

Zomb: 4/10. Nothing special here, but the robes work pretty well

Cenotaph: 5/10. Pulls off the robes better than any of his teammates

Carlos: 5/10. The bandana, demon shirt, and denim jacket all come together to create a pretty good fit

Stuart: 7/10. This looks exactly like something I’d wear

Casey: 3/10. The only thing that saves it here is the hat

Trevor: 3/10. The jacket prevents this from being a 2 or even a 1

Tommy: 4/10. I like the color scheme, but I feel everything below the neck could use some more detail

Andre: 3/10. Very similar to Tommy, but I prefer Tommy’s color scheme

Waylan: 2/10. All 2 points are purely for the hat

Bruno: 3/10. I really like the fur but that’s it

Bobby: 2/10. The fur is not as good as Bruno’s

Doug: 4/10. I really like the hat with eyeholes

Ronnie: 2/10. It’s not bad, but there’s nothing that I’d call good either

Robin: 2/10. Same as Ronnie

Unnamed Charming Princes blader: 2/10. See above

Chucky: 4/10. He’s effectively wearing a crop top, shorts, and a pair of goggles

Zippy: 4/10. I like the color scheme

Lippy: 3/10. Alright but not as good as his teammates

McSneeze: 3/10. Looks alright, but is nothing compared to the rest of the series

Typhoon Lewis: 5/10. The color scheme, stars, and the stripe pattern make something that I can only describe as “not explicitly American but very close to it.” I dig it

Jocelyn Heart: 3/10. The single star, white and blue stripes, and the rest of her outfit being pink results in clashing patterns that don’t work as well as they should

Jose: 6/10. He’s a cowboy and he has a gun

Pedro: 6/10. Partially because it just looks good and partially because I’m a sucker for characters that carry around weapons that aren’t actually weapons (like a sword launcher). Also, I love the design of that sword. We need more hollowed out swords in fiction (I know they’d suck irl, but if anime can keep making katanas useful I’m sure a hollow sword is no problem)

Miguel: 4/10. He’s a mariachi

Diego: 1/10. It’s just a plain color t-shirt

Fernando: 2/10. It’s just a plain color hoodie

Axel: 1/10. I’m sorry but the overalls just look bad

Mario: 2/10. It’s a soccer jersey, which is better than just a t-shirt but not by much

Frankie: 3/10. If the top was in a different color I’d 100% wear it. As it stands it’s just ok

Covered Luiz: 4/10. It’s a dark coat that sparkles. That’s kinda neat

Luiz: 6/10. Replacing the darkness with bright yellow and orange, and it works

Bianca: 3/10. While not anything crazy by Beyblade standards, her sense of fashion just lines up with mine. If this was a “would I wear this” list, it’d be at least an 8

Rosetta: 3/10. Good, but nothing special (and unlike Bianca, does not line up with my personal tastes)

DJ: 7/10. I love his design. The jacket, the bandana, everything

DJ in China: 7/10. A very slight downgrade from his normal look, but it’s so slight that it doesn’t warrant a lower score (unless I started going into decimals)

DJ in America: 6/10. I like it but the bandana is too good to replace

DJ in Russia: 6/10. The tuxedo suits him, but not as well as some of his other outfits

Grandfather Wong. 2/10. I couldn’t get a full picture of him (minor character moment), but he just wears purple robes

Gustav: 7/10. Stylish Butler

Piddlesworth: 7/10. He looks exactly like Gustav

Mr. Dickenson: 7/10. Old man with thick mustache, tiny glasses, red bow tie, and a bowler hat? It just works

Tatsuya: 4/10. The jacket collar is cool, and the rest is alright, but nothing special

Ryu: 4/10. I love his character, but his fit doesn’t live up to his personality

Ryu’s other look: 4/10. It’s barely any different

Taro: 4/10. It’s just decent

Jeff: 4/10. Basic lab coat look

#beyblade