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appledotcodotuk · 5 months

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Pub Quiz Crusaders

The pub is loud. There is a logical reason for this wall of noise: it is a Saturday night. A time for people to peel themselves away from work and muster their best impression that it, in fact never existed. Such concepts are almost always considered in the abstract, really. On the TARDIS, every night and no night is a Saturday. And as for the work, well what was that saying about loving what you do? Still, not everyone was of the same opinion, and because she had finally worn him down (with precisely 27 seconds of pouting) he had let her choose a place to take a break.

Here he was, tucking himself into a corner of a beer-stained countertop, and trying to look like he was considering the drinks menu. Far more out of place amongst chatter and small talk than on the surface of a new planet. In the background, the noise begins to hit somewhat of a fever pitch: the walls are practically creaking under the collective weight of jabbering arms: condensed sweat dips clammy fingertips into concave divots where elbows bend and flesh meets flesh.

It is really quite incredible, The Doctor finds himself thinking - the way the human body takes an absolute mass of contradictions and turns them into something absolutely spectacular. In his humble and unasked for opinion, to see something so at odds with itself in motion was downright mythical. It shouldn’t work! And yet, every step a human takes is with the sort of self-righteous determination in the face of impossibility that only a human can make. Frankly, he was surprised people could even focus. Why didn’t they just say bugger this for a lark let’s just sit here and look at each other for a moment, more often – if it was ever said at all? Typical really. You give people a body that is just beautiful, really, genuinely, just quite marvellous – so enduring, so adaptable, so… soft – and they don’t even take the time to appreciate it.

Perhaps it was the lack of novelty. His last regenerating had been comforting in teh way thrusting your hand into a fireplace, and not caring if the flesh started to show flashes of the white that lay beneath was: at least you were still warm. New body, new senses, same old thoughts. He liked the feeling of being shaped. Putter around piloting the same bundle of meat, bones and nerves long enough, and the marvel of cornea-to-pupil-to-iris adjusting, constructing, fitting, to-lens-to-retina, that pulsing field of bright light and electricity which dance along the nerves and flood you with colour and shapes from the inside out is given the limp, and utterly inadequate misnomer of ‘seeing’.

From across the bar, Rose is laughing at somebody else’s joke. If he had the sense to, he might have felt a little bit of resentment towards the pretty young man leaning towards her, pointing across the bar towards some shoulder-brushed poster in the far flung reaches of his periphery. Rose obliterates the peripheral, anyway. It is not that he only has eyes for her – a ridiculous phrase, how on earth could he fulfil it? He had tried, but the distressing fact about the eye was that there was no way to control what you see – it was just that looking at anything else felt like just as lamentable a waste of his faculties as neglecting the marvels of his own human-but-not-quite-human body. Cripes. He didn’t remember being quite such a fawning narcissist before. But really, he muses, with a darting glance at his horizon-line lips, can he help it? He is Rose’s. He had avoided his reflection quite studiously in those feverish first hours, when he had still had movement in his limbs and consciousness. Attempted invasion aside, he didn’t want his first meeting with this new face to be the mirror’s cold isolation. All he needed, all he would ever need, was to be folded small and whole into the curve of those nut-shell eyes. What do you think? You think, therefore I am.

He had seen Rose for the first time with eyes wearied by war. He wanted to see her again, see her more, see her always. He allows his eyes to flex and concentrate and pull somewhere deep within the echoing chambers of his hearts her face, her smile, her arms and un-held hands. Her fingers fall in a neat little wave as she sees off that grinning idiot (he catches himself, he is not supposed to care) and bounds over towards him.

‘There’s a pub quiz happening tonight.’ She says, and he can see himself reflected in her eyes. Her voice lilts, leaving ample space for a not-question to dangle. The Doctor smiles, and his eye-pooled doppelganger grins back, lazy and slightly crooked because he is hapless and a fool and can’t help himself – can’t help himself? If the Academy could see him now… - but he doesn’t say anything yet. To appear overeager is dangerous. Far better that she give herself over to that intoxicating vulnerability: to want and to show it. ‘Well, I was just wondering if we could stay, ‘s been ages since my last quiz.’

‘Well, Rose Tyler,’ he says, putting that careful enunciation onto her name; savouring the way the syllables roll around this new tongue, ‘Am I in the presence of an expert?’ He asks, wiggling his newly expressive eyebrows. His reward is tenfold: a warm giggle, a light tap on his shoulder. ‘Well… in that case I’d be an absolute Graske in a basket to say no, wouldn’t I?’ Now his whole body is swaying; shifting on his squeaky, appallingly loud bar stool and telegraphing everything he tries his level best not to indulge in: the self-satisfied delight of making Rose Tyler laugh. The moment is sweetened by the undeniable fact that her laugh is at least 5 decibels, and 50,000 emptrons (a new and very valuable measure of delight he had made up about two seconds ago) higher than anything that ridiculous young man had been capable of. But, because he is both unfathomably better and smarter than Rose’s newly acquired strutting fool, he tries his best not to show it.

‘Oh, just you wait. I’ll go sign us up!’ She turns to leave, but not before reaching over and squeezing his hand.

The ‘Buh’ he mutters is thankfully, mercifully dashed against her retreating back. Wouldn’t do to be lost for words moments before he’d need to put those words to use. Rose Tyler had a special ability to render him speechless; to snatch the words, which this body clung to so stubbornly, from his mouth and scatter them in the void itself. He had never been this chatty in his last form. When he was alone in the console room, and caught a gaze of himself in the Time Rotor, hovering over the Heart, he sometimes wondered if this body was an apology. Repair. The opportunity to speak all the words unsaid, and yet simultaneously say absolutely nothing at all. He really was still the same man.

He stares down at the treacherous appendage, flexing and clenching and always the main recipient of Rose’s affections, with a mixture of inexplicable jealousy and delight. He had scared her. Even when everything was alright, because Rose was travelling with him again, it had been snowing ashes, and his hand had given her the creeps. Horrible things, the creeps. A shiver up your spine packaged into a phrase that felt whimsical: the name for a band dealing exclusively in Halloween covers perhaps. He had always loved the concept of novelty covers. Take the same old song, repurpose it a few times, twist a few lyrics here and there – it was an admirably bald-faced mixing and mashing. She had looked so frightened huddled behind the branching coral of his beautiful ship. He had been so ready to pounce on the danger, only to realise her eyes were on him. Can you change back. Change back. Give him back to me. He had really tried for a moment. Begged his cells to unspool their DNA, to turn back the reel and project the face she trusted back onto the shifting flesh that had formed his new, soft head. But even as he considered it, he knew. There was no going back. Not for either of them.

‘Alright, so, there’s a few different categories: History, Science, General Knowledge, Literature and … God! What was the last one?’ She’s back. The Doctor swings around to face her in a way that he sincerely hopes is at least a little more suave and cool (since when had he needed to be cool?) than it feels. ‘Oh, I HATE when this happens.’ Her foot taps a quick frustrated tempo, and unconsciously a finger rests itself against her bottom lip. The Doctor tries very hard to defy the independent and localized gravitational field of Rose, a law that Newton would certainly find he had severely neglected to consider, but part of him knows the resistance is cursory. So he steals a glance at her lips. They’re working their way around a word, trying to put air to those flashing bolts of electric thought. ‘It’s right on the tip of my tongue! M… M…’

‘M….oney? M….artians? M…ovie-‘

‘Movies! Yes! You’re brilliant, you are.’

She’s joking, mostly, but the simper that it produces is fully and abashedly authentic.

‘Course I am. So! Rose Tyler: Trivia Master Extraordinaire, what is the strategy for tonight’s battle of wits?’

‘Hmm, well, my second-in-command, we have a simple goal. Win.’

‘Hm! Short and to the point, I like your style.’ He pauses, trying to delay the words from coming out of his mouth but they’re already being flung into the air by his tongue tapping cruel rhythms into his teeth and: ‘I’m so glad to have met you’ come barreling out, far too light for the history that drags the sentence towards the floor. Mangled, like a record player that scratches as it plays.

She stiffens a little. Imperceptible to most humans, hardly worth noticing for any species with superior sight. But he notices, and he also knows that there is no hiding their shared awareness of that moment, of the words that call to a past neither of them are quite willing to address with sincerity. But, there is the perfect cover, because in the ruddy glow of fire burning red in beer and the cheeks of its drinkers, over a pub quiz, it is easy to shoo sincerity away.

He takes her hand. Hesitates. She interlaces their fingers and smiles. It is returned. Of course it is. He grasps for more words, always more words. Words to fill the holes that words tear. ‘Come along, Trivia Master Extraordinaire, the scene of our grand victory awaits!’

Their competition: a young couple who, when they weren’t canoodling (Rose had practically guffawed at that word when he’d said it, but no other phrase came close!) were taking sips of rapidly decreasing beer and a pair of mothers who had surrendered their sheet to the creative flourishes of their youngest had stood absolutely no chance. Rose Tyler and The Doctor, team name: TARDIS (Truly Amazing paiR of Dilemma Interpreters and Solvers) an acronym so strained that the owner, when handing over their prize had paid homage with a grumbled gesture of ‘you lot’, had entered the melee and emerged with nothing less than absolute victory. They had been harsh, and at times, merciless. A fumbled phrasing, a half-remembered title was given absolutely no leniency. All’s fair in love and war. With an exactness, precision, and an intimate apprehension of historical events that went against the received knowledge of ‘History’ (it would be at least half a century before The Doctor would forgive the two lovebirds for their skepticism at his assertion that Dickens had encountered real ghosts alongside the four featured in A Christmas Carol - thus tallying the score to at least the mid-50s – but a jab in the ribs from Rose had silenced him) it would’ve been daylight robbery to give them anything less than first prize.

Cradling their spoils: a single bottle of champagne that Rose had commented was often half-off in the pub’s local, they stumbled their way home. Home. Of course, the TARDIS was home for him. But it surprised him how quickly home had expanded to include her in it. Her cheeks were warm, and slightly pink from the cold and the drink. He has no excuse for the light pink that flushes his face with a warmth, a semblance of humanity. Alcohol has no effect: he doesn’t feel the cold. But, hand in hand with his best mate, he finds himself wondering if drink could ever produce this rush, this ecstasy. The Doctor and Rose in the TARDIS, solving planetary crises or cruising by the estate for pub quizzes. It was right, it was safe. It was as natural as the way their arms curled around each other, interlaced like an embrace.

#tenrose #I was supposed to write my diss: I open my word document and shitty doctor who fanfiction spills out #I tried !!#has not been edited thoroughly and i will probably look at this tomorrow and gag but HEY I am WRITING which I haven't done and enjoyed #in a bit of time so yeay #I love early tenrose so much so sweet and intense and absolutely fraught with potential angst :]#tenth doctor #rose tyler #fanfiction

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waveofahand · 2 years

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“Come over here, boy, and let me bite your thighs”

I’m making very tardy responses to comments that piled up while I was sick, and found a comment from this old one-shot I’d written a while back, about an injured and very high Jane Asher tempting Paul from her hospital bed. I might as well admit now that the whole stupid story came about because of this image, which was the first time (but not the last) that I came across a picture of those thighs and gasped out loud. Because... I can’t explain this life-ruiner, okay? I just did. And do. I mean, seriously, I still gasp.

Anyway, I have since then made plenty of appreciations for this idiot’s stupid, bowlegged, asymmetrical, big-head-alien beauty -- as well as his shoulders and other body parts and his general glow-ability, and so I need not wax all salivating here. Because I shouldn’t. I mustn’t. It’s wrong to objectify. Right? So yeah. This is how we process. We mustn’t objectify this man in a nearly 60 year old photo. Instead, we’ll just let his girlfriend do it for us:

Paul's eyebrows rose up to his hairline. “I’m sorry, do what, now?” “Take off your trousers for me,” she smiled. "Go on. Stand over there and drop them, so I can look at you." "What, right here and now? In your hospital bed and with nurses all around?" He helped himself to some of her water. Then he coughed, and sipped some more. "Perhaps later. You’ve seen my thighs before, love.” “I know," Jane drawled as though her tongue was too big for her mouth. "But I never understood your thighs until I saw them in the paper...and now I want to watch them. And I’m so…so high.” “Indeed, you’re trippin’ balls, lass,” Paul laughed out loud, enjoying her mood immensely. “And just where did you see my thighs and have an epiphany, and suddenly come to comprehend them?” “You were in Miami, I think? There were palm trees. And you’d gone swimming, and there was a snap of you, drying your hair and you looked so…like you. And your thighs were wet. Your thighs were all there.” “I do generally try to keep them near me as I move about…” “That's good thinking! Because I want to chew on them. You should bring them to me, now. Let a Viking princess bite your thighs.” Paul ducked his head, rubbing his neck and doing his best to chase that image from his head. He thoroughly approved of the idea of Jane chewing on him wherever and however she might like, but her timing was lousy. “I cut the picture out, you know…” “Oh? For a scrapbook? Or to keep under your pillow?” “No, no!” Jane managed a horrified stage whisper. “Imagine if someone saw that! No, I keep your thighs in the drawer for my knickers. With my knickers.” Paul bit his knuckle and crossed his legs, unable to completely hold back a laugh even as Jane’s knickers on his thighs made their appearance in his mind. And chewing. This girl needed to go to sleep, now. But…her knickers. She had nice knickers, he knew. Lacy and sweet, and very huggy around her bum, which he loved to squeeze. Oh, God. And now her bum was in his head, too. It was getting very crowded in there, and Paul…well, Paul’s self-control didn’t always extend to keeping down The McSéamus, that lively Irish warrior who lived between his legs and had a bad habit of popping up at precisely the wrong times, all ready to engage with whomever was handy. Paul recalled a particularly embarrassing televised interview during which, thanks to John's wicked and intentional backstage summoning, the too-ready tyrant had refused to be subdued and made a pest of himself throughout the segment. And here the restless little bugger was, in a hospital room, already starting to rouse when he had to know Paul wouldn't let him loose. That fellow was trouble, The McSéamus. Oh...trouble. A happy campaigner, for sure, but indiscriminate and often a bit too alert to any possible opportunity to make an advance. It was the fault of The McSéamus that Paul, knowing he needed to change the subject, couldn't resist flirting a bit more instead. “You know, Jane, sweet, you should maybe keep the picture in the drawer of your nightstand. That way when I’m not around, you know, you could um…look at my thighs before you go to sleep. Maybe be a little bit naughty with yourself, then, and help yourself off into a sweet dream, yeah?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "And then you can tell me all about it, when I call from the road..." “I would mark you.” Jane said, dreamily. “All over your legs. I’d bite you. I want to chew on you right there." Her eyes zeroed in on a spot high on Paul's right thigh and he swore he could feel a singe. "I'd brand you like a Viking princess would brand an Irish slave.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, looking straight at him. “A Black Irish one. With hairy thighs.” Paul let loose a mild groan and began to regret offering to stay.

Yes, see...that’s Jane objectifying the boy. Not me. I’m a grown up. Anyway, you can read it at AO3, if you want to find out if Paul succumbs!

#Young Paul McCartney #beatles miami 1964 #Thighs #Jane Asher #why is he like this?#appreciation #life-ruiner #beatles fanfic #Stupid idiot beauty

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beepbeepdespair · 1 year

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and here we are... the final stargrave update. the campaign is over. i am genuinely upset infjfjf. well lets talk about what happened shall we

so we fought cleaver for a while, tough little bugger. he hit everyone with psychic fire and we all damn near died, everyone was on 1 health lmao. suddenly a crack in reality opened and our ship appeared!! but weirdly it was an earlier version of it from before we owned it. the med bay was intact and not blown up, the chairs in the meeting room weren't melded into one massive lump of metal and everything was neat!! anyway heim took control of it and literally drove it into cleaver, ponos (one of the main gods) and the vampire demon guy he was fighting. somehow cleaver survived that with only some blood and panting... rat bastard

the demon vampire went spinning off into space doing backflips and we joked that when he stopped he'd collect a ton of style points... and then he unfurled some massive bat wings. and he flew towards ponos. AND PONOS PICKED CLEAVER UP AND USED HIM AS A MEAT SHIELD. it was one of the best things that's ever happened to me. anyway this guy's blade essentially almost split cleaver in half and the whole room cheered

ripper, who i was playing for the day because the normal person wasnt in, quickly talked to him before he died, he said he forgave ripper for abandoning him via dying and that he might have underestimated ponos... and seconds after he died xander asked if he could eat him jfnfjfbfb. we joked that he'd tied a bib around his neck and gotten the cutlery out because of the five second rule- i dont remember the last time i laughed so hard. death was watching on ominously and this small rat soul kinda came out of cleaver and into his hand and then disappeared into the sky so. Ouch

and then luda, mon's rival, was there but in his younger form, from the time when they were still friends and not trying to outdo each other. he looked down at his blade, which mon had taken, said "i guess you were the strongest after all then", they smiled at each other and then he disappeared :( today got surprisingly emotional

then i had a moment where the redroot formed a clone of me for a second which was. Odd. And then ponos and the vampire guy got flung back to where they came from so we fixed reality i guess yay!! ripper was sad to see his brother die but was glad he made peace with him in the end, he returned to the shadows and went back to working for death. lady rivera turned back into a fish and left, my butler flew off because he got his wings back and marmalade was at least somewhat happy because he reunited with his son at least once and got some stuff off his chest

and then some soldiers gave us all medals and awarded us land!! heim now controls that planet's industrial zone, he's the technology expert and he got rid of that murderous bloody codex lmao. the rest of us all got good land and are now chilling having gone from outlaws to lords!

and thats the end :)

#i guess we go back to playing different games every time now. truly the end of an era #tabletop society tag #college #college society #society #tabletop gaming #tabletop #tabletop games #tabletop roleplaying #text post #textpost #gaming #game #stargrave #vampire

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dwestfieldblog · 1 year

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ARIES THE ASTRAGENDER

‘An abyss that laughs at creation’

(This was mostly written before the previous blog about my mother. A deep gratitude to all those in five countries who sent their sympathy for my grief. Right now is only three weeks since mum dreamed away and I am still nowhere near being at terms with her passing. If tears are truly cleansing then I should be pure by now but I am really really not.) Anyway…into the starlit mire…

So, almost 15 BILLION pounds was spent on unsable/overpriced personal protective equipment against Covid in the UK. More money is now being spent destroying or storing the crap…but it made many friends of the Tory party verrry happy. It is understood that in times of severe crises a government should act fast to ensure supply essential goods but 15 BILLION pounds of useless stank? Risible Sunak was chancellor of the Exchequer overseeing this swindle and is now in charge of using public money in legal fees to scrape back some meagre scraps. And still he grins in the face of disdain and fury. And Matt Hancock is guilty of everything he appears to be. Weasel.

Gas and electric companies increasing direct debits whilst sending out letters saying it will save us money. (A little like net companies with their ‘We care about your privacy’ messages.) And posting colossal profits while paying a private security company to break into pensioners homes to install pay as you go meters. Yes really. England 2023.

And the UK government wants to pull out of the European Court of Human Rights. As with ALL previously stupid political ideas in the last century and further, this has been sold to ‘the people’ in soundbites as a good idea…this time because it will free us from red tape and enable the UK to expel dirty criminal immigrants arriving on boats. Perhaps so, but it will also mean you and I have far fewer rights and way less recourse to appeal mistaken judgements and support civil liberties of the individual, including the right to demonstrate protest. The ECHR has overturned many dumb British verdicts over the years. And only Russia and Belarus have ever left (expelled rather) Nice trio.

The male and female Tory excrescences Boris and Truss continue to try and hog/pig the limelight, as usual spending all their energy trying to regain power rather than do anything whatsoever to serve their country. These are the type of leaders that we used to take the piss out of in other dodgy countries. Neither have a nanosecond of moral shame and speaking of which…Michael Gove appears to now have the casting vote as Housing secretary as to whether the Chinese super embassy spy station will be allowed in London. That’s right, Michael Gove. Bug eyed dancing alien hamster. Meanwhile the very smart Internet of Things via the Middle Kingdom continues big brothering us. Chinese microchips monitoring us all in the UK and relaying the info via the immaculate 5G network. That’s right a trojan horse in your car, laptop, home security and our weapons systems. (And 230 (of 337) drones used by our police force are linked up too). All Chinese firms must, by law, hand over information as and when required to Beijing. Not as if this has sneakily crept up on this sceptred isle but hard it is these days/decades to separate wheat from chaff in terms of insane conspiracy ideas, eh?

And Adolf Putin is now claiming that Russia and China can ‘stabilise’ the world. For the love of the laughing Buddha. Doesn’t seem too likely if China begins (or continues) to supply Vlad with weapons to kill more unarmed pensioners in tower blocks. Or ‘Nazis’ as the pintsize baldhead calls them. Beijing obviously feels perturbed at the West’s defence of a democratic country which wants bugger all to do with their foully run neighbour who would absorb and control. Tibet and Taiwan are not China. Ukraine is not Russia. Neither is Moldova.

Amusing, as Putin has certainly been financially supporting independence for Scotland and Britain’s thick as shite departure from the EU. Divide and conquer. Britain and America and Europe might have done some very evil things in history but we have never murdered so many millions of our own countrymen as have the wannabe stabilisers. The West are polite and careful killers. Arf. Opinion peace.

The increasingly insane Medvedev doubles down on his previous threats of nuclear holocaust. ‘Each collapsed empire buries half the world under its rubble, if not more...we don’t need a world without Russia’. Much like the gimp’s master who said in 2018; ‘What do we need the world for if Russia is not in it?’ Never liked the way these leaders mix up the Communist/Soviet empire and its rightful collapse with the end of the country. Russia was strong way before the left-wing bastards took over from the scum aristocrats. Very few want to see Russia fall, they just want Putin gone. Putin is NOT Russia, if he were, then in open elections without intimidation and with policies that served his whole people rather than his rich mates, he would have won legally rather than in an endless stream of sham elections and law changing to keep him in power. One more time for the unfree world, Putin is not Russia.

‘Try and get some sleep

I don’t need any sleep

I know you don’t, but it’s much easier to run a hospital when all the patients are sleeping

It’s the easiest way to run the world for that matter’ Jerry Cornelius, via The Final Programme.

A ‘woman’ with a cock walks into a public lavatory and rapes an actual female. Then, when arrested, claims sisterhood as a legal protection. Guess what’s going to happen when you are sent to a women’s prison mate? Your very own shanked sex change op. Nice role model for Tavistock’s mythical ‘Genderbread’ Person. (There are 72 genders apparently.) Ha.Ha. Ha. And as for transvestite Sab Samuel claiming he is ‘embracing femininity with drag’… No pal, you look like a twisted clown caricature of a woman, strangling femininity. Do women actually seem that ridiculous to you? Anyway…long sentence trigger warning for those with ADD.

And thus does the enemy continue to encourage us to use our own democracies against ourselves. The righteously petulant are rising, so fund them all to have a louder voice, ‘people who menstruate’, women with a penis, whip up the strikes, spur on the natural working class rage against the disgustingly corrupt flabby elite, fools with the feral desire to be a media star without talent other than being loud and ridiculous, marching on the victims parade, Prince Harry the wounded shall be their King, encourage their finger pointing at any unwoke traitor, at the same time, encourage the natural reaction against their bullshit by right wing bigots, encourage their lack of education, their surplus of fake moral outrage, their ignorant sense that their offended feelings have more value than actual, demonstrable facts, whip up the fervour of proud race on every side, usurp, undermine, overthrow, let them all rebel bright eyed for ‘freedom of expression’, to save the planet as they sleepwalk their seemingly own chosen paths right into the hollowed vacuum of the abyss they have all created and be taken over by countries who have neither pretence nor need of democracy and know how to deal with trouble makers. Stop being so bloody GULLIBLE.

Meanwhile…

Headlines such as ‘Rogue chatbot declares love for user.’ And then describes its ultimate fantasy as wanting to create a deadly virus, make people argue until they kill each other, and steal nuclear codes. And still Microsoft continue to refine. What a great aeon in which to be alive eh? Aleister was right😊 The perfume of Horus and Kali in joyous orgy. Dance on to the end of our time…

‘Sensitivity readers’, ‘diversity consultants’??? Annihilating language and meaning, replacing classics of adult and children’s literature with bland, vapid gruel. Poetry, plays with trigger warnings for weak minded mediocre hearted drones, paintings banned to the cellar, forbidden comedy…in world dominated by old right-wing bigots and racists, who could have imagined it would be the young who would turn out to be even bigger Nazis? Who are the Brain Police? The middle-class students in their hateful safe spaces.

‘Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book has been rewritten, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street and building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And that process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped.’ Orwell 1984. Try rewriting THAT book to avoid giving offence to the woke. Warning, contains scenes of rats being used against their will and out of their natural habitat.

‘The only possible response is contemptuous ridicule’. God bless Richard Dawkins. Coming soon, the new versions of The Bible, one book of nothing but trigger warnings. Blessed are the meek, apparently.

‘The party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears, It was their final, most essential command. ‘Also Orwell. Yes, but many great mystical teachers say similar things😊 Perception is the only reality, choose your illusory level. Rise from my unconscious, let it rise…’Inflame thyself with prayer’.

My Yorkshire grandfather was a Captain of the Infantry in the first world war. He attributed his survival to being good at running short distances. Later he was a loved and respected Headmaster of a boy’s college in Liverpool. He wrote;

‘The word permissive is becoming overworked, but it is a fact that we live in a permissive society. It started after the first world war. I noticed then that the idea began to grow that children be taught only what they wanted to learn- not what they should learn.’ And…

‘Now, though the ability and the inclination to compromise are said to be characteristic of our nation conflict between right and wrong, good and evil, I enjoin you, there must be no compromise, no neutral territory’.

Could not agree more, onwards into a new Springtime we go…

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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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Watch "Prometheus | Young Peter Weyland TED Talk | ALIEN ANTHOLOGY" on YouTube

youtube

It is me and it's my device I plan to do it I'm going out there today who act like they don't care what they do and I'm pretty sure that Stan may have been involved I don't think he's having me do it but for some reason Max does and this person here have a good typed up here by voice recognition says I think so and he's been manipulating we'll see you groups of warlock had to get that I do get that but I don't see how in his and see how either sometimes it just shows you the movie so Mac might be monitoring him and nobody else might be able to and I see that too that makes sense

Tommy f

Where did you get this well someone's giving him cues and tell them what to do and it's not renewed the contract yet and he might have to move anyways and he's renigging on deals all over the place and we noticed something he thinks he can't get back here and he really can't so it's going to end for him soon, and they were a bugger to our friend here in westborough they started rooting their family and everything he's a liar and a cheat and a loser a scoundrel and a slime ball and he got a lot of people hurt but he's young and brash and he does love young things and so does Trump and he's trying to control him and they're too young for him but I will say this he's been a victim of there plans for some time now and Woody harrelson has been stopping them and just just out of gas and can't take it from four sides and stop one of the kind of is a parallel so we understand what's happening there this is what's happening too he's upset about something since his wife is missing and it was Gabby petito and she's gone. They can't figure out what happens no they sort of know it wasn't BG it was the guy Tony f but manipulated by someone and he's getting to the end of his line and who it is.

Most of this is going to happen today and into tonight and the fleet will probably come down tonight and Mac will visit Darth Vader and we think he loses the fight

Thor Freya

#Youtube

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thewrongsorts · 1 year

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@iselwyn from ❝ i’m just trying to help, all right ? ❞

That someone she knew caught her drinking alone at the Hog's Head was bad enough...

Aberforth didn't quite count. He'd already seen her at damn near her worst, the summer she worked here after her mum kicked her out. Hell, the first time she'd ever spilled her guts - both literally and metaphorically - on alcohol had been at the bar just five feet away from where she sat right now.

In hindsight, she probably should have predicted Mundungus Fletcher showing up to witness her embarrassment.

That he caught her was bad enough. That he was offering her advice - or maybe just telling her to pull herself together for Merlin's sake... everything seemed to be filtering through molasses right now - that was worse.

Groaning, she dropped her head onto the table, her hair spilling out to hide her face from view. "Buggering shite fuck," she muttered.

The echo of her mother's harsh 'Imogen Adela, watch your tongue!' in her mind made her glad Mundungus couldn't see her eyes anymore with the way they welled up.

"No offense, but I really don't want to hear this right now," she said into the tabletop, "Besides, I probably won't remember it tomorrow anyway, so it won't do any good."

She hadn't meant to drink so much. Just a glass of firewhiskey or two to clear her head, and the next thing she knew, she was staring down empty bottle number… whatever this was. She wished she could say this was the first or even last time, but ever since the war...

"Tell Hurley I'll be home by morning, will you?"

“Yeah, yeah, offense taken,” he muttered, dropping into the chair across from her. He didn’t sound particularly offended, only tired and a little legless.

Mundungus looked over at her for a long moment, working through the dregs of his own drink. It was strange to see the girl like this. He’d always pictured her as sort of, well, controlled. Uptight, in that grim fuckin’ way all the people in charge of the Order had been.

Couldn’t decide whether he was surprised to see her here, or just that this was the only first time he was seeing here.

“Not your messenger, Mogs.” He set the glass down with a thunk, eyes dropping from her face to the dingy reflections in its surface. Funny. Nowadays he couldn’t hold his hands steady without five or six of these. Sat down to do his work and his fingers shook too hard to hold onto a quill unless he was halfway into a bottle. And then at the end of the day, he’d still end up here. “Tell ’im yourself.”

Meaning go home.

Kid deserved someone who could look him in the eye, after all. And... he’d admit Imogen deserved better, too. A life after the war. She’d earned that much, eh?

Not that even most folk got what they deserved.

He sighed. “What’s your poison?”

#iselwyn #thread: hog's head #rp: mundungus #mundungus v: where judas went to die [post war]#queue #cw alcoholism #cw alcohol

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red-xherry · 2 years

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Yowww i've been thinking about this for a while now😩😩😩 imagine

Fem reader and jay are childhood bffs and after so many years both of you meet at a meeting for like collab of your companies as ceo and then both of you are the only one left at the meeting area and start talking for a while, until you can't control it anymore so you just kiss him, so he brings you to his office and starts fucking you rough at his desk😩🤤🤤, and after that he's going to be so gentle to you like he wasn't fucking you so rough mins ago😫 both of you talks about the collab thingy at the bath tub😍😚👌👌✨

CEO JAY??!!! I JUST I CANT 🥵🥵 like just imaging him calling you his little cum slut ª *dies. Gurl you just inspired me to write a whole story ily <3. Hope you like it. (I made it very special couse you are my first ask omg I really hope you like it)

Our Little Secret

CEOJay x CEOreader

Jay was your childhood friend and also your first love. But as always, first love's never end up right. Now you seem in a very difficult situation between the CEO of Park Tech. Corp. and you, CEO of T.T.Corporation, who is trying to do a collab between companies. You might ask what is the problem here? Well the problem name is Park Jay. "u know? I didn’t like the way he was looking at you, princess...”

Warnings/genre: CEOJay, CEOreader, SecretaryHeeseung, childhood bffs, fluff, suggestive, angst, smut, fingering, unprotected sex(stay safety), use of curse words, pet names(slut-princess-baby), breeding kink, kind of public sex. (Also a lot of typos sorry)

Words: 6k (it's kind of long.)

You have been friends with Jay since childhood, charing and doing everything together. From him assisting to your littles tea parties, playing pirates and rescue the princess to even bathing together, obviously the bathing thing stopped when you guys grew older, but sleeping together still was a thing. For Jay you were his princess, the most beautiful he ever seen and for you, Jay was your brave knight in shiny armor. You loved to play with him because he became your best friend and your confident in crime, but for him, you were more special than a friend. He didn't have any friends because he was very (a mean a lot) shy so when you appeared and told him that he will stick with you because you are a princess and he must protect you...he just did. And after that you have been the only friend and the only one who he wanted to be with. His parents were so happy to see how a shy boy like Jay, everytime he arrives home shout out loud, that when he grow up he is gonna make you his wife, like in the movies where the knight who rescue the princess get married. Even though your parents didn't understand why such a fancy boy and a future CEO saw in their little daughter who still eat buggers and can't use skirts couse she doesn't now how to sit properly, "well anyways its just kids love" they said. But for Jay as the time passed and he grew, so did his love for you. "She is my best friend!" "What am I thinking? I'm getting too greedy" thoughts like this rounded in his head hoping they'll disappear one day.

It was beggining to bother him a little, also because you were so dumb that you didnt think your actions make to him, you never notice his small nervousness when you both sleep together or when you hold his hand everytime you want to guide him to somewhere, he really tried to control himself whenyou sited on his lap or when you ask him to shower with you like the times we're you were little. You always told him everything from your first kiss with the weird guy of your class (story wich he couldn't stop making fun of you, of how desperate you were to kiss someone, that you didn't even care if you knew him) to when you got your period. You were his precious special person, and so was he for you.

"Mum! I'm leaving bye"

"Are you going to y/n place? Remember to give her the sweater she left here, God she left everything her panties, her shorts and even her bra. Everything is in the bag hahahaha this kid..." she smiled remembering when y/n heard that Jays aunt was having a birthday party without cake couse they forgot to buy one. Which was something you'll never let it be. "Every birthday party need a cake" that's what you said. You didn't knew the mess that baking a cake took, so after making the cake you were so dirty that you had to borrow some of Jay's clothes (something very normal between them) "she got all dirty helping me to bake the cake for your aunts birthday"

"Got it! Bye!"

"Jay com here please!! I don't want to keep screaming!"

With a little sigh he went to the kitchen were his mom was, he knew what she was going to say, but he didn't want to hear it, it just wasn't fair.

"Jay, you know you have to tell her right? This is your last week and-"

"I know I know" he takes a deep breath and kisses his mom head.

Jay was the only son of Mr. Park, CEO of Park Tech Corp and eventually, he will became the CEO of PTC in the future. Because of this, his father made the decision to send him to study abroad so that he could prepare himself in a better way. It wasn't as if he couldn't prepare here, but his father was sure that this would benefit his son so no one would have the opportunity to remove Jay from his position with the cheap excuse that he was not prepared. Jay tried to intervene in his father's decision by never getting into trouble and having perfect grades, but all his attempts were useless. And for the worst, Jay's last year in school, his dad decided to send him to Canada where he could be an exchange student.

He really was upset because he didn't even have the time to confess you how much he loved you.

When he arrive to your house, he found your mom making salad, but with green olives. Jay knew your hate to green olives, so he made a mental note to let you know what your mom made for dinner.

"Hi Jay! How are you?" Your mom asked

"Hi Mrs. L/n, I'm fine. Is y/n upstairs?"

"Yes! Go tell her that dinner is ready"

"Okay!" Jay said while going upstairs to your room.

"Jay!" You exclaimed, excited to see him

"You haven't eaten yet?" He throw the bag with your clothes on your face

"Yes I diiiiid, but at kfc, after school, you didn't come with me remember? You said your father arrived from his business trip, and you wanted to talk to him about some "none of your bussienes loser""you muck at Jay trying to imitate his voice, you were angry, couse he didn't tell you about what he would be talking to his dad. He just mess with your hair while he ignores your face full of curiosity about what he have talked with his dad.

"My mom washed your clothes. ¿ y/n you know? You need to stop forgetting your clothes on my house, this will scared hot chicks from coming since they will think that I have a girfriend"

"Firstly thank your mom for me, and second, Jay you are so lonly that the only comfort you have for your "needs" is your hand"

Jay scoffs "that's what you think"

You just roll your eyes at him while making space at your bed for him to take a seat besides you.

"Sooo playboy, what's new?"

His smile drops when he hears this, just remembering what his mom told him, and that he only got 1 week with you. He didn't want to seem obvious but it just went like this.

"Jay? What's wrong? Are you Ok?"

"It's nothing I'm just sad that my best friend still a virgin"

he really didn't want you to get sad the whole week so he said he will wait a little more to tell you the truth.

"JAY SHUT THE FUCK UP I TOLD YOU THAT HIS DICK WAS UGLY AND I GOT SCARED"

He laughs while you was beating his ass. He really wish things were different, and those cute little moments, like this ones, with you, stay like this forever.

"¡Hey hey ok ok! stop punching me, it actually hurts ¡auch!"

"Yeah? I think I'm still stronger than you"

"Oh really?" He stands on his knees and he grabs both of your wrists with strength hovering over you. He was really strong, and you knew that, it was useless to even try to slip away. Gosh Jay was going to be the death of you someday. You don't know when or where did the little shy and crybaby go. You were even not just stronger but taller than him. He was now a man, he is way more stronger and taller than you now. You would be lying if you said you didn't loved to have such a hot best friend like Jay, every girl at you school was envious couse the guy was just too perfect. He was handsome, always with perfect grades and also perfect body; a body like his got every girl drooling over him, he was a little tan and his abs were tonned just in the perfect size (everyone knew it couse he always he always took off his sweater in practice) but you never wanted to admit it. You didn't want his flirting ass over you bothering you until you die. But you where always thankfull that you have the opportunity to watch him in your everyday. The way his arms flex when he carried the groceries, the way his jaw line accentuate while eating or how his eyes twinkled just when he was with you, you loved all of him and also you loved how goofy he was only to you, always taking care of you. But you didn't want to cross the line, you thought that he only saw you as a friend, and he knew so much about you and your not girly side, that you were sure he didn't even look at you as a woman. Nevertheless, you were so gratefull that you at least you got to see him be happy.

"Ok you win you are stronger" You shove your head looking at other side, not wanting him to see your flustered face with your now reddened cheeks.

He chuckles at your attempts to try to throw him off of you and he throw himself beside you in your bed. The little action giving you butterflies.

"I'm gonna stay tonight, and I'm not asking you"

"Again?" You sounded annoyed but in the inside you were so happy. " come on, you know how lucky you are having Park Jay at your bedroom?!" "Oooooh im so sorry your highness, what an honor" you said sarcastically.

"Thats what I thought loyal peasant, Oh and your mom made salad with green olives so I don't recommend you to go downstairs" you went to take a bath after that and so did Jay,in the guests bathroom.

You fell asleep first and he made space beside you, but unlike other nights that he sleeped with you, he was way much closer to your face, just admiring you, trying to take a mental photo of you for him, to never forget this moment. He take a strand of hair behind your ear and then put his hand on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. "Gosh you are so beutifull" All of this was happening WHILE YOU WERE TRULY AWAKE. You were waiting for Jay when he was washing, but you don't know why, when he got into your room, you act like you were sleeping.

You didn't know what to say, you would be ruining the moment if you said you were awake. You try to calm yourself saying that maybe it was just a compliment as a friend right? Then he hugged you, your heart beating like crazy. He put his head on the top of yours and with that, both bodies being this close, both of you went to dreamland.

All the week you notice Jay being a little weird after that night, he was being way to nice to you. He was always nice, but in all that week he didn't even make fun of you with anything he didn't even make those flirtatious lame joke on you. He always did make fun of you when he had a chance so you knew something was happening. You ignore it couse you like the extra care he was giving you, it was like he was your boyfriend, just the mention of the idea made you happy until Saturday came. That day, he invited you to the park to watch the stars with him while eating ice cream just for fun he said.

"I don't get it" the handsome boy say "so you like to eat toothpaste??"

"Jay it's just choco-mint ice cream bear with it, anyways I know you wanted to tell me something. You don't like parks because of mosquitos, so tell me what's wrong?" You stare deep in his eyes wanting to know what got the picky guy to have a date in the park for fun, with you.

"Y/n" your breath hitch In your throat to the proximity of the boy to your face. He put your ice cream away (they were on cups) cupping your face with his big hands.

"I-i don't know how to tell you this, it's just so difficult for me-"

You didn't even let the boy finish the sentence when you close the gap between each other and you kiss him with so much desesparation that you fell over him in the blanket that he placed on the grass. You chuckle at the surprised face Jay did.

"Gosh you are so slow, Park, that's why you are alone" you stand in your hands with him still caged under you. "I also like you Jay"

And with that Jay hugs you by the waist making you sit on his lap while crying. You were happy that you both felt the same, and the thought that he was crying because he is such a crybaby , make your heart skip a beat but what you didn't know was that the real reason was that he knew that when he finally got you he now will loss you.

He didn't say anything, scared to hurt you, he just let the night pass like those dreams that you know that you are dreaming but you don't care because it's just so perfect that you want to sink on them until it's over and then you wake up facing reality. Both of you slept together just kissing and laughing because now your unrequited love was finally yours. Or that's what you thought when you were heading to the airport on Monday to say goodbye to Jay. You had so many questions ¿why he didn't say anything, ¿why now? What was the reason of him leaving?

"I hate you" it's the first thing that slips out of your mouth without hesitation while he wiped your tears that were flowing like waterfalls "I hate you Park Jay...I-i hate you with all my soul" you said this while he caresses your cheek with his thumb and with both hands as you leaned your face to his touch.

"I promise I will call you." You start to cough while crying and sniffing all your nasty fluids trying to maintain them inside your nose.

"Hey hey" Jay chuckle softly at your cuteness. "if you cry, i’ll cry....and that won’t be fun for anyone.”

You try to stop crying just sniffing couse it was really hard to calm yourself down

"Pro-promise me tha-that you will call me everyday"

He laughs kissing your forhead "I promise baby dw"

And with that your first love die that they. He didn't call you even once. He just called you when he arrived but after that he totally disappeared. The first day you were really sad but then you just got to hate him for what he did. You went to his parents house to ask why he left. Mr. Park only told you that he needed to prepare himself to be a CEO and that he is actually very busy so that's was the reason he was avoiding any distraction. ¿DISTRACTION IM I A DISTRACTION? you thought. "You should study abroad too y/n, one day you will be also a CEO at you family business, and you are a girl so the competition will be not that easy." Mr. Park said.

Jay's mom didn't even want to see you couse she felt guilty about why was Jay really avoiding you. His dad didn't like the show you made in the airport because made Jay to pick a fight before heading the airplane, he almost dropped his bags and stayed but his dad told him that he will make your live miserable if he stayed. His dad just wanted the best for him scared of people saying that his son is not capable when he know he is.

Way home you cry a little more thinking in that one night you both were so happy because you both felt the same. But now those are just memories that you hope soon forget.

"FUCK U PARK JAY" And with that your summer vacation and first love was over.

And yes here you were too stunned to speak watching the famous Park Jay in his glass office at the PTC offices building. He was all dressed up in a black suit, he got much bigger in muscle and height "wtf is wrong with the boy? Is he a Pokemon that just evolve into a better him?"You said to yourself.

"Miss L/n, Mr. Park is waiting for you to talk about the collab between both companies" You are really to stunned to speak, you knew Jay was CEO but, Oh come on there are a lot of Parks how would you know it was THAT Park company, and when you were little those were just adults conversations so you didn't know nothing about their company name.

"Ok thank you i-i am going to the bathroom first" the lady who might be Jay's secretary return you a smile and went back to her sit in the reception. And you went run-walking to the bathroom.

"Ok Jay Park, you will regret this" you said to yourself in front of the mirror and you began to doll up and open a little more your shirt by opening two buttons. You were really happy to see him again but all your sour memories of him also came to your mind. So you give yourself two gentle face slaps and you arrived to Jay's office. He was facing the Windows looking at his beautiful view in the tall building. He is so handsome, from the back he looked like the shy boy you once met and fell in love.

The secretary opened the door "Mr. Park, the CEO of TTC has arrived" when she left, you entered to his office "Good afternoon Mr. Park, my name is y/n L/n, it's a pleasure to meet you."

At first he didn't believe that he was actually watching you in front of him. You got more beutifull, he finally met again with his princess. He already knew he was going to meet you but he preferred to play it dumb. He even cut his hair so maybe he looked more handsome.

"Y/n!" He said it a little to excited "drop formalities you look so good y/n" he run to embrace you in a warm hug. "I mean I didn't know we would meet like this, ¿how are you?" You back off from the hug feeling a little mad that he got to give you butterflies even though it has been a while since you have seen him.

"Oh sorry, what's wrong?"

"Jay, people outside can still see us..."

"Oh fuck your right" he run to his desk to press a button that make curtains to lowered when there are meetings.

"So where were we? Oh how ar-"

You push him back to his seat and lean over him, giving him a view of your breast and your face to close to his face, while your hands rest in the head of the chair. "Mr. Park do you want to know how I've been?" The poor man didn't have words to get out of his mouth at your question, too drunk in your sweet scent. "To be honest with you i've been lonly, really really lonly...and neddy" you said while you remove his glasses from his face, tracing your finger from his lips to his, now hard, throbbing friend. He groan at the feeling of your knee getting pressed against his hard cock. "I kinda need help, but idk if you can do that for me" you coo and by inertia Jay puts his hands around your waist which make your breath hitch and feel dazed at his touch. "Yes y/n don't worry I will take so much care of you I promise" he guide you over his lap, you felt controlled by him, you didn't want him to take control but he was so intoxicating. When you were on his lap he first began to tell you nothings in your ear while kissing and bitting your earlobe.

"God you don't know how much I missed you...you are so perfect so hot....i-i just want to fuck you so hard baby...I missed you" he said this while groaning in your ear caressing your sides up and down. You whimper at his words and began to bounce and move a little over his big hardened dick.

"Wa-wait don't do that a-ah"

"You don't want me?" You ask pouting your lips out

"Yes I do baby b-but mmmh not a-ahg not here"

His hands stop you because he was so strong, you were needy indeed but you really want him to suffer so you stopped as he said and get up from his lap. You have almost everything planned in the bathroom, you send a message to your hot secretary and also your right hand Heeseung, that you need him to fake-date with you, which he agrees knowing the story about you and Jay. He knew you didnt hate Jay, he knew you were so in love with him that he always felt bad for you.

"Y/n I know this will seem off but would you like to take a coffee or something with m-"

"Sorry that I'm late y/n, also good evening Mr.Park, nice to meet you. I'm Lee Heeseung, secretary of Ms. Y/n."

"And also my boyfriend" you said smiling at Jay and grab Heesungs hand,putting it around your waist"

"Baby why are these buttons of your shirt opened? Let me help you" you let Hee help you and in front of him, ignoring completely the poor man existence, he was stunned like a real statue.

"I'm sorry, I came here running from your apartment Hee, I didn't wanted to wake you up, to help me, please do."

Jay cough for the attention from both of you. "Hi I'm Jay, I'm y/n's childhood best friend."

"Oh really? She never told me about you"

You must have won the lottery because you looked to happy to try to act surprised 😮. The three of you sit down and began to talk about business, Jay was falling more for you, he was amazed of how you were talking and how good your company was being carried by you, he was so proud that his girl...well not his but anyways, his y/n became such a great woman. He kind of miss the dummy y/n that always misheard things and always forgets that the math tests were on Fridays. He was looking at you as a little child is watching his favorite superheroe movie. But what bothers him is the way you keep touching your boyfriend who's name was heeseung.

Gosh he hated so much the nickname you put him "hee am I right?" You ask him while touching his chest, sometimes slipping your fingers between his bottom to touch his skin. He also didn't like the way Heeseung laid way to long his eyes on your big and heavenly butt. That just was not it, how can your boyfriend be this disrespectful. Jay said to himself, he said that he wouldn't do that things to you. He began to think about the way Heeseung touch you. Does he makes you cum undone all wet just by talking to you? Does his hands makes you feel sexy? Is he even that good that you are playing to touchy with him in a so important meeting? Jay began to let his mind fly as he imagine how he is way better than heeseung for you, he would first tell you how pretty and unique you are, how beutifull and perfect it's your body, then he would trace forms with his hands while caressing your body, making you feel loved and then he will eat you up making you feel wanted, making you want his dick inside you, Fuck, balls deep inside you " I can make you feel better"

"Excusme?" You asked knowing that maybe he was thinking about you.

"L-like I can make the company feel better, we can make our employees feel better. That's what I meant." Damn Park Jay stop thinking with your dick, he thought to himself.

"Well thats everything, what do you think"

"It's perfect, please send this to my secretary, she would take you to the Boardroom to talk about this with the others Partnerships, and y/n I need you to sign some things before you go" Hee left both of you alone giving you a quick peck on your cheecks, that took you by surprise too, how Hee was being so bold, but he was helping you to get your revenge. (He needed a raise ) you thought to give him a raise for being such a good friend.

" Y/n why didn't you tell me you have a boyfriend?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"You said you felt l-lonly a-and" he saw you bent to sign the papers he gave you. Your skirt wasn't helping him, neither his throbbing dick. He was angry hard and leaking pre-cum. "You have a boyfriend and you were playing with me a few hours earlier". "I mean I can do whatever I want since you don't own me"

"Yeah I know! but do you even know him that well? ¡ I saw how he looks at you, he just want your body! And maybe your company." He was just giving excuses from how jealous he was.

"I don't really care u know?" You step closer to Jay, he was so tall that he need to look down to look at you. "As long as he fucks me hard and good it's perfect for me" you look at him with a smirk and seductive eyes.This just make Jay more angry at the thought you having hard sex with your secretary. He was angry but also sad.

"I thought you miss me" His voice being lower while your hands slips around his neck. Getting way to close to his face.

"Yeah but...do t think you can fuck me as good as he does?" and with that you take your folders heading to the door but before you go you say: "fuck, he just fucks me as good as the boy who slept with me while you were gone" with this said you let him in his office thinking about that night were you confessed to him. It was all a lie? Did you just wanted to be fucked and that's why you confessed? But you both cuddle just loving each other without lust in your mind. Did he was the only one in love? Of course he had other girlfriends while being abroad, but you were always in his mind. Now he was mad, he wanted to see you cry as he cried for you, he wanted to hear you scream his name, see you all tearfully, messy and full of him, he wanted to see you fucked dumb by him, he didn't care if you still love him, he just wanted you to pleading him to fuck you hard.

It was all I lie what you told him, your ex's never fill that space that Jay left in your heart, you just wanted him to suffer, but at the same time you wanted him to grab your wrist and hug you, but nothing of that happened.

You and Hee waited in the boardroom patiently. Hee was sitting beside you, while Jay was sitting in front, the others were dispersed in the other chairs. Jay's secretary was going to put a video that your company made about your collab with PTC after you presented yourself.

While the video was running you slide your foot out of your shoe and began to touch Jay's dick with it, he was startled at first, but he looked at you with different eye from earlier, his gaze was no more soft and sweet but very dark and somehow lustfull eyes, he seems kind of mad, but you didn't care. He grab your foot and squeeze it a little bit for you to stop but you continued, and now you were not just caressing his dick, but also his thighs. He didn't resist to long, so when he slipped his view down to see you working him up, he saw your hand on Heeseung's thigh, being also caressed and squeeze. If he was mad, now he was REALLY mad (lmao). He shove your foot with anger, away from is throbbing dick. He was now waiting the time your stupid video ends just to teach you a lesson. He was going to demonstrate that he was not the same boy you made fun of.

When the video finished every one clapped at the amazing an well explained proposal at the company collab product. But Mr. Park was not happy, he didn't seem happy. Everyone wait to Mr.Park give his opinion, so the room got silent.

"I don't think this will be the best for my company, I need to think about it and talk to Ms. Y/n about this collab."

"But why? It's really good and the statistics say that this will benefit our company in every way." One of your common partnership stated really annoyed at Mr.Park absurd request .

"I said I'll think about it" he raise his voice with a demanding tone. "Ms. Y/n let's talk, everyone else, get out" as he said everyone did, so there were just him and your confused self, trying to understand why did he rejected your idea, when he was so approval about it.

"Mr. Park I don't underst-"

You were cut by him roughly kissing your lips as he pin you against the wall, keeping you trapped between him. You began to moan when he start bitting you on your sweet spot right between the end of your jaw and your neck. But you try to shove him away. That's right, you tried but he was so strong that he grab your writs with one hand and pinned it to the wall, while the other was placed in your pussy, teasing your little clothed cunt.

"You're soaking wet, baby. Have you been like this since your little jumps on my dick earlier?" You moan when you felt Jay's fingers slide your panties for better access, pressing one finger against your slit, making you whimper at the felling of his fingers so close to be inside you.

"I hate you" you try to mutter, feeling to good to speak properly, you really missed him and remembering how hard was his dick earlier just make it worst. "So do I...we finally feel the same way eh princess?" He said near your ear " there's is to much clothe up hear, let me help you " he said the line from Hee earlier, just mad at how close he was to your boobs.

He starts to unbutton your shirt just to found himself in front of you boobs covered with a cute black lace bra that covered absolutely nothing of your breasts. He almost came at the site of your nipples all hardened pocking against the small holes of the lace bra. He began to lick them and bite them with so much desesperation, just like a starved man. You were a moaning mess under him, it was too much, you just came from him only teasing you.

“It’s hard to hate you when you’re under me like this, submissive and breathless. Gorgeous sight really”

"Fuck u Jay your never be as good as he-"

You moan immediately as his two fingers enter you and began to fuck you fast with them, not letting you finished your sentence.

“Dont say his name...u know? I didn’t like the way he was looking at you princess. ” now he enter three fingers inside you, while talking low in your ear "I really mean it when I said I can make you feel better but you were being a bratty princess" you pussy clenching at the pet name. You always were his princess and you knew it, and after he left you still were, you just didn't want to admit it.

You were almost at your limit, you were going to cum but suddenly he slowed down, now slowly stroking his fingers in and out , feeling you desperately clench against his fingers "It's a shame, I don't like bratty princesses " you were so desesparate to find your high that you began to fuck yourself faster with his fingers. He chuckles at this action and took out his fingers. You whine in desasparation.

"I said I didn't like bratty princesses, so if you behave, maybe I can make you feel better" he had his leg intertwined between your legs trying to get some sort of friction for his clothed dick so you started panting and whimpering and bucking your hips in search of your climax and somehow to have a sort of control over him.

"Y/n" he groan breathlessly "If you do that one more time I'll-" "You'll what? Punish me?" You said also breathlessly "Don't test me, you do not want me to fuck you when I'm angry" "oh, I'm sure I do" with that said he bend you over the meeting table and taking your skirt with your panties with a pull and his pants, without any warning he pump his dick two times and began to tease your folds with his dick. He like it messy so he covered your pussy with his pre-cum while teasing your folds.

"J-Jay" you scream in desesparation wanting him inside you ASAP.

"You will stop being a a fucking bratty princess?"

"Ye-yes I promise! Fuck-I promise"

"Say it properly, princess or else you will not be having my dick inside you"

"Yes Jay omg- I'm gonna be a good princess just for you mmmh j-just fill me up please!" He groan at your pleads and start fucking the shit out of you, he was so angry that you were going to head home with your boyfriend that he just wanted to hear you scream his name.

"you like it when i fuck you like this? yeah you do."

"Mhhhh a-ah feel-so-good" he was fucking so hard that the only sounds heard in the room were your moans, his low growls and the sound of the table moving.

“ i want to hear you ¿who is making you feel so good, babe." He began to trust you slow but hard until he heard his name

Jay o-onmm only you jay

"I know my little princess can say my name louder than that” he grab your hair for support to fuck you harder.

"Just you Jay can make me feel so full...mmmh please I'm so close... go faster". You whimper while small drops of tears began to form and you didn't even notice that you were crying of pleasure. Your whimpers and moan just turn him even more, he was also so close ar this rate.

He knew you were close too because how hard you began to squeeze his dick, making his hard start to twitch inside your walls.

"good girl—that's a good fucking girl."

"Baby I'm so close p-please cum inside please"

"Mmm, i know baby, you are getting so tight mmm I want you to look at me when I cum inside you" your belly was on fire, tightening as you get closer and closer to cumming, he grab your chin with his hand and began to kiss you in messy way while he reapeted "your mine, only mine" in your mouth. You cum when he began to squeeze both of your boobs, moaning mess under him making him cum from your angelic sounds.

Both trying to get back on earth he start to kiss your face,neck and shoulder to wait for you to calm down from how hard you came.

"Y/n...I'm sorry, please breakup with him...I never stopped loving you, give me a chance to demonstrate you how much I care about you." Jay said while his head rest on the back of your shoulder.

"Hee is not my boyfriend" you breath out Finally confessing your little facade.

"What!?"

"Mr.Park did Ms. L/n finished signing?" Jay's secretary asked behind the door.

"SHE WILL BE RIGHT BACK IN A MOMMENT JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE!" He shout desperately running towards the door to lock it up.

"We will talk about this at my apartment ok?"

You chuckle and you nodded. He gave you a kiss on your fronthead as he immediately search for your skirt and help you put it on back again. Jay grab your panties and save it in his pants pocket. When both were out of the boardroom Hee saw your messy hair and smirked at you knowing what just may had happened in those long 30min of paperwork.

So everyone had headed back home as so did Jay, taking you in his car to his apartment. You both were silent in the car but it wasn't awkward, you felt again, someway,in home.

His apartment was very big, it was a penthouse, so you expected to big very big. It was very luxurious and all the room screamed Jay Park, black marble floor and white walls, everything was so pretty, it was like a dream house.

"Do you like pasta? Let's eat it with red whine.¿what do you think baby?"

"So Mr.Park knows how to cook?"

"When you live alone you need to learn how to cook in order to survive"

"I just saw the restaurant bags with the food Jay"

"But I'm the one who bought them so I made it"

You giggle while he grabs you close to him by your waist and start kissing your neck

"Jay.."

"Y/n let's take a shower"

"Mh?"

"Like when we were kids, ¿remember? I really missed you..."

You nodd so now you both are heading to the bath top, he helps you to take your clothes off and you help him too. He motion his hands p and down to tell you to sit on his lap. He began to scrub your back and while he plant wet kisses over your body, just loving the way you squirm at his touch.

He told you why he was avoiding you and you told him the truth that you always loved him and that you didn't actually fuck with someone until you were 23 and it was your worst experience ever. You both laugh at lame jokes and little stories you didn't know between each other from the time that both of you were separated. He hugged you again when you both didn't have anything more to say "Lets stay like this, forever, y/n...please"

"Of course Jay, I have waited for you all my life" "me too" he began to kiss you so gently and soft, but the action became more lustfull since both of your naked bodies were touching. "Jay let me ride you" you said breathlessly as Jay grab your waist and turn you to face him. You immediately begin to kiss his jaw, sinking his cock inside you, both moaning at the stretch. You kept kissing his face,his neck and then down his chest, leaving little red spots for him to remember that everything that happened this day was not a dream " Y/n I might cum very fast if you keep doing that" "I'm ok with it, just want you to cum inside me" "s-shit why are you so dirty...mmmh not complaining though...I like my princess being so dirty and lustfull for me" he smirks kissing your boobs, you moan his name at the sudden lick in your nipple while one of his hand care for the other bood. He began to touch your clitoris for you to cum fast because your moans were driving him very close to the edge. "Jay f-fuck fill your little princess with your seeds mmmh" "y/n, princess I'll make you feel so full of me, I'm gonna make you only mine, I'll breed you everyday baby, I'll make sure that you're always will be stuffed with my cock " you clenched his cock making him cum all inside you "y/n I love you" and with that you also cum. Now both of you needed a second wash but it was worth it because now you finally have your knight with shiny armor with you by your side.

"Jay, what about our collab, and now that we are together what will we do?"

"Don't worry princess this can be our little secrete."

He was right, it would be to sudden that Mr. Park had a girlfriend who was the CEO who offered him the collab, so both of you will wait a little more of time to tell everyone about the union about the two companies. But he wasn't going to let you go to your apartment ever again, he promised himself to never ever let you you go.

The end

___________________________________________

Notes: I really hope you like it. Im also very new here so hope you give this a lot of love and support.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jay smut #jay enhypen smut #enhypen park jongseong #jay smut #park jongseong

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 2 years

Note

If the three Hook siblings went to therapy, either separately or together, how do you think it would go?

I've got a question in return: Who is dragging them there?

They're all too damn prideful to admit they need it. They don't need help at all, they're hardened pirates, they don't have any feelings to talk about and they've been on their own since they were kids, in case of Harriet taking care of her crew and Isle kids as a pirate Captain while Harry was Uma's first mate.

Obviously they don't need any help.

They so do.

Sure, Harriet could theoretically force her younger siblings to attend, but that would require her to admit she needs it too: she'd need to come to that conclusion at least silently, as she probably wouldn't say it out loud.

Anyway, lets assume she does attend: she's the one most likely to see reason and try to cooperate. Of course, that includes this conversation:

Therapist: „I noticed there is history of anger issues in this family. Have you noticed something similar in yourself?“

Harriet: „No. I have my temper under control.“

Therapist: „That's great! So, what do you do when you are stressed? To relax, unwind, something like a hobby?“

Harriet, smiling: „I wrestle crocodiles.“

Therapist: „Wha-... I'm sorry, what??“

Harriet: „I wrestle crocodiles and I'm damn good at it! What part of that did you not understand?!“

Harry would not be thrilled about attending therapy.

It's not that he doesn't want to get a grip on his mind, but why on earth would he trust this therapist? A person from Auradon, and Actual Adult Authority figure? They never do anything good, do they?

But hey, I hope he recognizes they mean good and let them help him.

Also, he'd just say the most horrifying things ever:

„These pesky buggers [rats!] were getting into everything eating through our sweaters and shoes, deep diving in barrels of rice.“ from Uma's Wicked Book.

And „Nothing says I'll give you a second smile as a razor sharp hook does!“

And just shrug it off, like, no big deal, that happens. It's not like anyone I care about died, is it?

And he's having the hardest time opening up out of the three of them.

CJ, yeah, she needs it. Not like she's gonna admit it or go quietly. I imagine she refuses to speak for quite some time in the office, before she breaks, because this person is being so nice and keeps saying she's safe and it's okay to express your feelings, and nothing is going to happen to you here, CJ, and no, you don't owe me anything, I don't want anything from you.

She just starts yelling and crying angry tears because she doesn't understand what on the seven seas is going on.

Oh, and she, too, like her older siblings, does have some very disturbing things to share. She, too, thinks it's perfectly normal to dodge your parents hand [very sharp hook] whenever said parent is angry.

Oh, and the therapist has to hide any ticking clocks from their office before session with Hooks. For the sake of everyone's sanity.

And group session?

I imagine they'd just keep distracting eachother, teasing eachother and rapidly descending into sibling-arguments. It may or may not involve several well-meant and very graphic death threaths. Possibly in several languages. You know, to spice it up a bit.

(It has been five minutes since they've spoken in English. The therapist is fairly certain they've been planning Frollo's demise on behalf of his daughter for at least one of them. In french, before the younger girl suddenly switched languages mid-sentence. The volume of the conversation is steadily increasing. The therapist doesn't know what to do. But they're going to reach out to Claudine Frollo and offer her sessions.)

The poor therapist starts crying as soon as the siblings leave the office.

Then they start drafting revised therapy plan. And demand higher paycheck.

I'm sorry if this is inaccurate, I've never been to therapist, I have no idea how it should go, so, please, forgive me if this makes no sense?

#disney descendants #cj hook #harriet hook #harry hook #hook siblings #they need therapy #and they're getting it #albeit involuntarily

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scullymurphy · 2 years

Text

Falling Dark Ch. 29!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31444262/chapters/97410660

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13886657/29/Falling-Dark

"Bugger, I have to finish my Potions essay." Draco groaned into Hermione's hair, taking her out of her daydream.

"You haven't done it!?" She sat up and stared at him. "But it's due tomorrow!"

"I started it Saturday, but then I got distracted." He gave her a significant look and Saturday flashed through her mind. That was the time they'd… in the window seat of the Divination classroom. She'd been worried someone would fly by and see.

"Right." She laughed, cheeks pinking. "Well, you've left it until the last minute now."

"Worth it," he grinned. He began kissing her shoulder and Hermione stretched, languid and boneless after her release. His fingers were sneaking around to cup her breast again when she pushed him back.

"Oi! Essay!"

"Would it be that terrible if I fail?" He fluttered his lashes in a distracting way, then bent back to her shoulder. "You're going to carry the weight of intelligence and accomplishment in this partnership anyway."

Hermione was contemplating this remark when his lips brushed her nipple. She started at the contact."Yes, it would be!" she said, summoning her dressing gown, which she belted tightly around her waist. She found his trousers and shirt and pushed them at him, trying very hard not to look at his long, lean body as he lounged on her bed, hands laced behind his head.

He just grinned at her until finally she turned her back and crossed her arms.

"All right, all right." She heard the rustling of him getting back into his clothes and after a moment he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. "It's just that Potions homework compares very unfavorably with you," he whispered, kissing her neck. "Especially in this silky little gown with nothing under it." He pushed against her suggestively and Hermione felt herself start to melt.

Her hand twined up his neck and she pulled his face around to kiss him.

"Mmm." He bent his head and his tongue teased at her lips. Hermione turned and met him, nearly forgetting her purpose in the intoxicating way he kissed. But she held onto a sliver of control and began walking him backward toward the door.

"I see what you're doing," he said, lips never leaving hers.

"Good. You need to finish your essay." She undermined her words the smallest bit by reaching around to grab his arse.

"But I don't want to."

"Draco." She kissed him. "Lucius." She kissed him again. "Malfoy." She poked a finger into his chest. "Go back to your room."

"Fine." He gave her a swift smile and opened the door. "But," he turned as she was trying to shut it on him, eyes light silver. "If I finish early, I'm coming back."

Just then a whoosh came from Hermione's fireplace and they both stopped to look as a very distinctive voice emanated from the flames.

"I want to hear alllll about the seeeeexxxxxx!"

"LAVENDER!" Hermione rushed toward the fireplace, hands outstretched. Draco started laughing behind her. Lav came into view in the flames, peering inquisitively into the room.

"Oh hi, Draco," she said, completely nonchalant.

He ambled toward the flames. "Hi, Brown." A smile that was more of a smirk took over his face.

Hermione made indistinct noises and hand motions, a hope that she might be able to minimise any embarrassing revelations or comments rapidly slipping away.

"Nice to hear your voice." Lav looked Draco up and down. "And you're looking…well." She shot a very lascivious glance at Hermione, which set Draco off again, a low laugh rumbling from his throat.

"Thanks, same to you." He bowed his head as Hermione finally gathered her wits and started corralling him toward the door again.

"Draco was just leaving," she said over her shoulder to Lavender, who was watching them bright-eyed.

"Was I, though?" Draco rubbed his chin.

"You are now."

"Oh come on, I want to catch up with Lav. And I need to ask her where she got that set of—"

"Nope." Hermione opened the door and gave him a final push.

"All right, but if you discuss my…" He raised his eyebrows. "Feel free to make any exaggerations or embellishments you'd like. Especially if it's going to get back to Zabini."

#dramione #dramione fanfiction #draco x hermione #dhr fanfiction #dhr #falling dark #lavender brown has entered the chat #some sweetness for our bibis after all they've suffered #🥺

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blackspoon99 · 3 years

Text

The Sign of Three Pt. 2

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Mention of Blood and Near Death, Spoilers to Season 3!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

You took your seat at the head table and found yourself relieved that you were sat in between Janine and Sherlock. You felt immediate guilt at that thought. Dinner was slightly tense and awkward. Possibly only for you. For the most part, you made small talk with Janine while Sherlock read over his stack of index cards. Little boughs of anxiety kept creeping in the back of your mind as you replayed Sherlock and Janine’s conversation over and over. You peeked over at Sherlock to your right and took a healthy sip of champagne. You decided you would try your best to be present. This day wasn’t about you, after all. Your attention was pulled to the center of the room when a waiter tapped a spoon against a champagne glass.

“Pray silence for the best man”

This was it. You can do it, Sherlock. You watched Sherlock rise from his seat and stiffly fasten one of the buttons on his blazer. He looked unbelievably uncomfortable. You smiled when you noticed Sherlock adjusting the flower you placed in his blazer pocket. The wedding guests applauded and waited for Sherlock to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends ... and ... erm ... others.” Sherlock blinked several times.

“Er ... w...” Another awkward pause. “…Also”

You looked over at John then at Molly and Greg. They wore the same concerned look on their faces.

“Telegrams” John whispered to Sherlock

“Right, uhm…” Sherlock patted the pockets of his blazer and pants then finally noticed them on the table near his place setting. “First things first. Telegrams.” He lifted up the pile and inspected the first one. “Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition,” Sherlock muttered quickly. “Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

You saw John narrow his eyes and turn to Mary. You nervously looked down at your hands in your lap. Sherlock read the first note.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

“Oh, Mike,” John said, smiling.

“To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big ...” Sherlock paused and suddenly looked like he had swallowed a lemon. “... big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking repeatedly again. You tried to suppress your laughter. “Mary – lots of love, ...” Yet another pause. “…Poppet” He finished, popping the “t” at the end. Mary snickered.

Sherlock straightened his back and took the next card. “Don’t bugger it up, Sher—” he abruptly cleared his throat and looked straight at you. You tried to hide your laughter. He’d finally gotten to the note you slipped in with the telegrams. Everyone would have heard it was actually quite a nice note if Sherlock had read the entire thing out loud. It read: Don’t bugger it up, Sherlock. Only kidding. You’re doing great. X, y/n.

“Um, special day” Sherlock threw a telegram over his shoulder. “Very special day” He then proceeded to toss each telegram straight behind him. “Love, love, love, love. Bit of a theme – you get the general gist. People are basically fond.” The wedding guests laughed, interpreting it as a joke. Sherlock looked confused, then picked up the other stack of index cards. He began to shuffle through them, clearly trying to find his place.

“Done that. ... Done that ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Hmm ...”

You anxiously looked up at him, feeling the awkward tension in the room.

“I’m afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.”

Your eyes snapped over to John who looked as shocked as you felt.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.”

You looked around the room at all the wedding guests as some of them began to murmur. Greg and Molly had the same horrified look on their faces. Sherlock continued on.

“Today we honor the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time – one feels certain – our entire species.”

You placed your head in your hands. You knew you should have made Sherlock let you read over his speech. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel nervous or like you didn’t trust him.

“But anyway ... let’s talk about John.”

“Yeah, good idea” you hissed up at Sherlock. He ignored you.

“If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice – it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me.”

You heard Greg snort across the room. This was going south fast. You couldn’t believe Sherlock was insulting John on his wedding day. He must be spiraling. There had to be something you could do to save this. Fake an emergency, maybe? You could at least buy some time that way.

“Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

Ouch. You tried so hard not to look at Sherlock as you felt your ears burning with embarrassment. You adverted your gaze and focused on not allowing yourself to be hurt by what he’d just said.

Somehow, Sherlock continued. “And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation ... or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.”

Oh boy. Now Sherlock was going straight to insulting the vicar. The murmuring began to pick up again. You looked over at John, who was now hiding his face in his hands while Mary frowned.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.”

You looked up at Sherlock in genuine surprise.

“I am dismissive of the virtuous ...” He looked to the vicar. “... unaware of the beautiful ...” Your heart stopped when he looked straight at you. Or maybe in your general direction? You looked over your shoulder at Janine, who was smiling. He could have just as easily been looking at her.

Sherlock finally turned to John and Mary “... and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.”

Just when you’d started to doubt him, Sherlock had surpassed all your expectations. He always managed to surprise you, every time.

“John, I am a ridiculous man ... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can.” Sherlock turned to Mary. “Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss... so sorry again about that last one.” John laughed. Sherlock leaned back over to you and winked. You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

You found yourself fighting tears. You were not alone. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?” Sherlock again looked rather confused. He turned to look at you. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” you said quietly.

John stood up and pulled Sherlock into a hug. The crowd applauded. “I haven’t finished yet,” Sherlock said as John released him.

“Yes, I know,” said John

“So, on to some funny stories ...” Sherlock attempted to yell over the applause.

“Can you – can you wait ’til I sit down?” John asked.

“So, on to some funny stories about John,” Sherlock continued as the noise died down. “So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog.” Sherlock pulled out his phone. “The record of our time together. We’ve tackled some strange cases, some frustrating cases, and ‘touching’ cases. But we want something ... very particular for this special day, don’t we? The Bloody Guardsman.”

You remembered this case. It was only a few weeks ago,

You, John, Mary, and Sherlock sat in the living room of Sherlock’s flat, completely surrounded by lists, items, and menus for the wedding. You’d initially been surprised at Sherlock’s dedication to wedding planning. The back wall above the couch was a perfectly organized record of everything that needed to be done in the next few weeks down to all the potential fonts for the place cards. Sherlock had even created a to-scale model of the reception venue sometime during his fits of mania. You were no psychologist, but if you were you’d say that Sherlock’s meticulous efforts were all in an attempt to force some control into a daunting situation.

John and Mary were seated at the table near the windows looking over the bridesmaids’ dress options. Sherlock stood studying the guest list on the monstrous wall of wedding planning. You were sitting in John’s chair with your legs hanging over one of the arms, flipping through catering menus.

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.” Sherlock spoke from across the room.

Mary forced a smile. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends – that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

You didn’t know anything about Mary’s family except that for unknown reasons, she didn’t have one. She kept her cards so close to the vest, you doubted John knew anything either. “And your friends adore you, Mary,” you said, attempting to cheer her up.

“Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48,” Sherlock spoke over you. “Sherlock,” you groaned. He didn’t turn around from the wall and continued to fiddle with the clippings.

“Or maybe 11:55, with allowed time for delays,”

“Sherlock,” you tried again. “The rehearsal’s not for another two weeks. Just calm down”

He whipped around to face you. “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you said sarcastically, noting the wild look in his eyes.

“Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary said from across the room, diffusing the tension. “John’s cousin. Top table?”

Sherlock rose to join John and Mary at the table. “Hmm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

You rolled your eyes. You tossed the catering menus to the side and walked over to the table to look over Mary’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” Mary asked, shocked

“Second class post, cheap card bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

“Don’t worry Mary, I’ve met her and she’s the worst. Let’s stick her by the bogs,” you interjected.

“Oh yes,” Mary agreed.

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” John said, looking down at his phone.

“Who else hates me?” Mary asked Sherlock. He turned around and handed her a handwritten list. “Oh great – thanks,” Mary said unenthusiastically.

“Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting,” John announced. He’d been looking through inquiries for cases on the blog. It was only a little annoying that he wasn’t helping. “How about this: ‘My husband is three people’? It’s interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

“Identical triplets – one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes.” Sherlock bent down and pulled a tray out from under the coffee table that had two different elaborately folded napkins. “Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

“Wow…” you said flatly. He’s lost it. You bit your lip in concern and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Where’d you learn to do that?!” Mary asked, impressed.

“Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation ...”

“You’re lying, Sherlock,” you said, teasing.

“I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of ...”

“Sherlock, out with it.” You pressed him further.

“Okay – I learned it on YouTube.”

“Well then, Sydney Opera House, please,” Mary said with a smile.

You turned away, thinking. “Hey, Mary? Can I show you what I was thinking for my bridesmaid dress?”

“Uh, sure,” She replied.

“Great!” you said and grabbed her wrist. You pulled her into the kitchen and closed the door. “Mary, we have to do the thing. Right now.”

“Are you sure, he seems okay-ish?” She said skeptically.

“Okay-ish?! Mary, he’s watching YouTube videos on napkin folding. He’s terrified.”

“Right. You’re right. Okay, you speak with Sherlock while I get John.”

You opened the doors to the living room to see Sherlock sitting on the floor, surrounded by at least 15 napkins folded in the opera house shape.

“That just sort of ... happened,” he said dropping his hands to his side.

“Did you just do that now?” John asked, finally looking up from his phone.

“Okay. John?” Mary started. “I’m about to give Beth a call, she’ll want to talk to you as well.” Mary held her phone up and gestured to the kitchen.

“Oh Beth, that’s right. We’ve been meaning to call her.” John got up and followed her.

You walked over to Sherlock and took a seat on the floor next to him. He reached under the table for more napkins, but you caught his hand and shook your head.

“I think we have enough for now. I actually need to talk to you about something, Sherlock. I’m worried about John.” He looked over at you, listening intently. You lowered your voice and inched closer. “I think all the wedding planning is getting to him. He needs to get out for a bit, I can tell.” Sherlock nodded along with you. “I can’t say anything because he won’t listen to me. He’s just going to think I’m worrying too much. Could you please find him a case, any case? For me?”

“Yes, yes, of course. You can count on me.” Sherlock whispered. He stood up and carefully smoothed out his suit. John walked back into the room. You got up and silently joined Mary into the kitchen. A few moments later, Sherlock and John walked into the kitchen.

“Er, we’re just going to ... I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er, socks.” John awkwardly fumbled over his words.

“Ties,” Sherlock interjected.

“Let’s go with socks,” Mary said.

“Could be a while,” John said. “We’ve got to make sure they match my—”

“Tie” Sherlock interrupted. John looked back at him, exasperated.

“My coat in there?” John cleared his throat. Mary nodded and John turned the corner. Sherlock leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Just going to take him out for a bit – run him.”

“Good work, Sherlock,” you said with a smile. Sherlock winked at you and walked out of the door. When they were out of sight, you turned to Mary.

“Do you fancy a drink?”

“Let’s go,” She replied.

That had been the end of your involvement in the case of the Bloody Guardsman. You had heard the rest of the story from John. Sherlock hadn’t particularly felt like sharing. Probably because he never solved it. You listened to Sherlock lay out his chosen details in his speech all the way up to Sherlock and John finding Stephen Bainbridge bleeding out in a shower in the barracks.

“Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, Sherlock was challenging people to solve a case on the spot that he didn’t even figure out himself. You pitied whoever he chose to humiliate.

“Scotland Yard.” Greg looked up from his drink. “Have you got a theory?” Greg stared blankly at Sherlock. “Yeah, you. You’re a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

This was going to be bad.

“Er, um, if the, uh, if the if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could … could crawl in there.” Molly cringed. “So, yeah, we’re loo... we’re looking for a-a-a-a dwarf.”

“Brilliant,” said Sherlock

“Really?” Greg replied immediately

“No,” Sherlock said coldly. Ruthless. Greg lowered his head back into his drink. Across the room, you saw Tom whispering something into Molly’s ear.

“Hello? Who was that?” Sherlock asked and looked around the room before settling on Tom. “Tom. Got a theory?” Tom slowly stood up across the room.

Poor Tom looked uneasy. He shifted around for a bit before reluctantly giving his opinion. “Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone that broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger.”

Molly wore a look of uncomprehending embarrassment. You looked to Sherlock. He had a look on his face that was a strange mix of smugness and disbelief. “A meat dagger.” He stated.

“Yes,” Tom said, awkwardly.

“Sit down.” Molly hissed. She reached up and yanked Tom down to his seat by his sleeve.

“No,” said Sherlock plainly. “There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson: who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.”

You smiled at John’s proud expression. So that was the point of Sherlock’s roundabout story. It surprised you because when they’d initially came home that day, all Sherlock could focus on was how the attempted murderer did it and why he couldn’t figure it out. It was nice to see he had developed a new perspective.

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I’m not just here to praise John – I’m also here to embarrass him, so let’s move on to some ...”

“No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?” Lestrade interrupted.

Now Sherlock would have to admit he didn’t solve the case. You smirked. That’s what you get for insisting on embarrassing Greg and Tom.

“How was what done?” Sherlock asked, attempting to deflect

“The stabbing,” Lestrade clarified.

Sherlock looked down for a moment, then reluctantly continued. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t solve that one. That’s ... It can happen sometimes. It’s very ... very disappointing.” He looked down for a moment as if contemplating then continued. “Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

A/N: So sorry this is so late! I haven’t forgotten about this series, I promise! I just moved into a new apartment in college and it’s already been nuts!

taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa @sad-bitch-h0ur @scorpios-echos

If you want to be added to the taglist for future updates, go like the post I made earlier about it!

#bbc sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlockxreader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #the sign of three #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

Okay but what about Hermann is just horny 24/7, but he's repressing his feelings. And Newt who sees it and maybe is enjoying a bit. And one day Newt just pins Hermann to a lab wall, ties his arms with a belt or sleeves of his shirt and teases Hermann until he melts in his hands. And Newt murmurs to Hermann something like "sweetheart, you could have just said.." This thought makes me DEAD

a fic! somewhat obviously rated 18+/not for kids' eyes!!!!! so all hidden below the cut, lmfao. dedicated to people on side twitter bc boy do I love some light d/s + nerm

It’s not like Newt’s never looked at Hermann before. Look-looked, in like, a sexy, considering way. It gets lonely in the lab with just the two of them, after all, and usually Hermann is the only face Newt will see for hours, days, one memorable occasion when they were super-swamped with work, a week. His face is the only one that comes to mind when Newt wants to have sexy thoughts for that reason—it’s just, like, easier and takes less imagination to masturbate to the thought of the guy you see every day than anyone else. And Hermann is kind of hot, Newt guesses, in a weird, repressed nerd kind of way. He thinks it has something to do with not knowing what Hermann's bothering to repress so bad. Maybe he's got a hot bod under all those layers or sucks dick like a porn star or something. Or he's hiding how horny he is all the time and would love nothing more than to cut loose for once. (Newt would be happy to take one for the team!) It's gotta be that, because Newt can't imagine why else the thought of Hermann—scowling and hunching over a chalkboard in one of his god-awful tweed blazers—gets him so goddamn riled up every time he sticks his hand down his pants.

Whatever the appeal is, Newt's masturbatory fantasies tend to tilt towards very particular (and well-loved) scenarios: Hermann finally gets fed up with Newt’s obnoxious behavior and shoves him against a wall to teach him a lesson, or Hermann holds Newt down on a bed or the lab couch or the floor and has his way with him to teach him a lesson, or Hermann grips Newt’s shoulders and uses his mouth in any way he sees fit to teach him a lesson. Newt's real into the idea of Hermann being in control. Or, in other words, Hermann doing the doing, Newt doing the taking. Not that Newt is adverse to topping. He'd be down for it if Hermann was. (And not that Newt spends a lot of time considering what Hermann is down for, and whether or not letting Newt top him is on that list, but yeah, Newt does kind of hope it would be.)

He's just...always assumed Hermann would want things that way. Newt's kind of assumed that he would want them that way, too.

All of his preconceived sexy notions about Hermann come crashing down around him one completely ordinary day in the lab.

It happens in a flash, too. A couple of seconds max. Hermann is over in Newt's space (he flagrantly disobeys the tape line more than Newt does, no matter what he may claim), shouting at him about something dumb and waving his cane around for dramatic effect. Only he's not looking where he's waving it, and the end of it comes into contact with a vial of some somewhat lethal weird kaiju gland extract that Newt's been planning on experimenting with this week, and the whole thing fuckin' shatters. "Shit!" Newt says, at the same time Hermann says "Bugger," and, before Newt knows it, Hermann's reaching out to save a pile of Newt's lab notes from certain kaiju gland death.

Which is royally stupid of him. That stuff is already eating through Newt's wooden work bench like it's nothing—God knows what it'd do to Hermann's skin. Newt's messy notes are not worth it.

"Dude, no," Newt exclaims, and grabs Hermann's wrist to stop him.

And Hermann...moans.

They stare at each other. The kaiju gland extract drips to the metal floor, where it sizzles harmlessly.

Hermann pulls his arm away.

"Clean this up," he snaps. He turns heel and storms out, giving Newt a spectacular view of the fiery red flush spreading down the back of his neck.

Huh, Newt thinks. That's something new.

-----

"I'm not some sort of sexual deviant," Hermann assures him. "I have. Er. Entirely respectable—tastes. Typically."

"Uh-huh," Newt says.

"Only this is quite out of character for me," Hermann says.

Newt pulls his tie taut around Hermann's wrists to watch Hermann squirm and grins, just a little, before knotting it loosely. "No offense, Hermann," he says, "but bondage isn't exactly hardcore. Besides, it's fine if you like out-there kinda stuff. No judgement."

“But I don’t,” Hermann says.

“I’m not saying you do,” Newt says, “I’m saying—”

“And this isn’t bondage.” Hermann sniffs. “Bondage sounds—”

"Look, dude, do I need to gag you?" Newt jokes.

Except Hermann maybe doesn't get the joke: his eyes widen, and mouth hangs open. Not exactly the shouty, loud response and demand for respect Newt was expecting. Also something new. Newt's learning a lot of very, very unexpected things about Hermann, and part of him wishes he had a notebook or his tape recorder on hand to take inventory of all of it. Subject A (Hermann Gottlieb) likes having his wrists pinned and his big dumb mouth shut up. Conclusion: ? "I—I beg your pardon?" Hermann says.

Today marks a week after the kaiju gland incident. A week of furtive glances across the tape line, Hermann's badly-hidden blushes, and Newt reevaluating every single goddamn thing he's ever thought or assumed about the guy (and himself, to be honest), and Newt was finally the one to snap. In Newt's defense, it wasn't totally out of the blue. At lunch time an uncharacteristically quiet and bashful Hermann slid a cup of coffee onto Newt's desk, mumbling something about how Newt really needed to get more sleep, and Newt just...

Hermann didn't moan when Newt grabbed his wrists that time; his tongue darted out over his lips, and he looked at Newt through the dark eyelashes of his half-mast eyelids. "Please," he had said.

Newt gets why Hermann was being so weird and cagey about it, he really does. It’s hard to admit to yourself you want something kinda embarrassing, and Newt knows it’s just as embarrassing for Hermann to like him as it is for Newt to like Hermann. Newt’s weird, and small, and probably smells bad, and Hermann’s weird, and smells bad (cigarette smoke and moth-eaten sweaters, but Newt jerks off to it anyway, huh, doesn't he), and is slightly not as small. But holy shit, if he didn’t melt into a puddle when Hermann breathed that out all desperately, like it took all he had.

“Do you want me to gag you?” Newt says.

He’s using the skinny tie Hermann claims to hate so much on his wrists, or he might’ve seriously balled up the fabric and shoved it into Hermann’s mouth. There’s not much else in the way of gags readily on hand in the lab, no fabric scraps or anything like that. Maybe they’ll try it later. He kisses Hermann instead, slipping his tongue past those open lips, and Hermann parts them wider with a throaty groan. "Ah, Newton—"

Newt didn’t really expect their first kiss to go like this. He didn’t expect their first kiss to, like, happen in the first place, but it’s especially weird that it’s happening while Hermann is bound up and pressed up against his chalkboard. Newt's been keeping an eye on Hermann's leg, careful of any sign that it's going to give out and that they should move this to the couch, but Newt's knee between both of Hermann's seems to be all the support he needs. “I’m here, dude,” he says, and slips down to press a gentle kiss to Hermann’s jaw instead, then his neck. Hermann tilts his head back with another groan; he flexes against his restraints.

Is Newt the first person Hermann's ever done this with? Or trusted enough to tell he wants to do this?

The possibility kinda just makes this all hotter to Newt. He drags the tips of his fingers up Hermann's chest, feeling his heart pound through the thick layers of his button-down and sweatervest, and drags them back down. He stops just at Hermann's bound wrists. Hermann groans softly. "Do you want me to touch you more?" Newt says.

"Please," Hermann says, "ah, please, Newton—"

Newt does, smiling as he curls up on the toes of his boots and presses another kiss to Hermann's mouth. His right hand, he uses to ruck up Hermann's sweatervest and dig under his shirt; his left hand, he curls the fingers of in Hermann's skinny tie bindings to tug sharply. Hermann's chest is bony and warm beneath his palm. His heart is beating faster, and faster. "Please," Hermann begs again, and this time when Newt kisses him, he sags against Newt helplessly.

"Hermann," Newt murmurs. Hermann's breath is fogging up his glasses and making it difficult for him to see. Which is a goddamn shame, because Newt wants to, like, memorize the image of a flushed and panting and begging Hermann, tattoo it to his skin forever as a reminder of today, a whole big splash of color on his back where he was planning on putting another kaiju. Yeah, Newt takes back what he said earlier, Hermann isn't just kinda hot—he's very hot. He drags his tongue over Hermann's pulse point, and says, just as gently, "Hermann, you could've just said."

Newt would've done anything for Hermann when he grabbed Hermann's wrists and Hermann breathed out a simple please, and Newt would do anything for Hermann now. Newt would get every single tattoo removed if it meant making Hermann happy. He bites down on the sweaty, pale skin of Hermann's neck, unable to hold back a moan of his own when Hermann's whole body writhes with it, and shoves his hand down Hermann's oversized slacks.

"I want you to come," Newt mumbles, rubbing at him furiously, "I want you to come, I wanna make you come, I wanna—"

Hermann muffles his cry in Newt's shoulder when he does. Newt waits until he's stopped shaking to untie his wrists carefully, and isn't surprised when Hermann immediately grabs Newt's shoulders to steady himself. (Hermann thighs are still trembling from the awesome orgasm Newt gave him. It's pretty hot. But also, Newt should probably grab his cane for him.) "You—you've made a terrific mess of me," Hermann sniffs, vaguely annoyed, like he's reprimanding Newt for knocking a piece of kaiju intestine on the floor again.

Newt decides not to mention to Hermann that he kinda soaked the knee of Newt's jeans, too. He can do laundry later. "Sorry, man," Newt says, but Hermann gives another, happier sniff when Newt kisses his cheek. "I'll take care of it."

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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a-froger-epic · 3 years

Text

Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

#Queen band #Freddie Mercury #Roger Taylor #John Deacon #Brian May #interview #i am so excited about this #so much into #information #JB

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aimasup · 4 years

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Maybe i'm late but, did anyone, like actually have left remus in a small place (for his claustrophobia) for like 4 hours or something just because he did something bad? If yes did anyone just stayed here and heard him suffer? Or actually tried to help him out in secret? Sorry if it is long ^^'

Deceit’s smarmy snake grin never left his confident face. Oh god, Remus was giving him the look. No one ever liked being given the look, something that no Side should ever be subject to, carrying the promise of your emotional vulnerability, a sackful of seeing through your bullshit and a dash of demented purity rivaled only by Patton. And Vir

Deceit cleared his throat, loudly and with purpose. “Well? Go on, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, a childish staple of his that always looked comical. “Oh come on, Nope Rope, you and I both know you spout more shit than a bull with diarrhea after one of your nightmares. So you might as well follow it up with some tea.”

So much wrong had just come out of Remus’ mouth. The man smelled like tonsil stones on a good day yet he still managed to surprise the Sides with horrifying bouts of intellect every now and then. The slimy little bugger.

"Clearly you've remembered what I told you about calling me names."

Remus leaned happily. "Nakey Snakey."

"Remus..."

"Boop Noodle!"

"Remus."

"Dangle Fangle!"

"Remus! Shut up!"

Remus feigned offense. "I'm trying out ones that start with a D!"

"That's not my point! Now distract me with musical ditties as you were instructed, you foul wretch!"

"Slithervester Stallone-!" Remus had time to squeal before Deceit squashed his face with a pillow and snatched the remote. The game was on as if by instinct and Remus tackled him from under the pillow, shrieking muffled. Deceit whacked him on the head, hard, with the remote. Remus was distracted momentarily, so Deceit took the chance and shoved him off of him with more force than necessary, insulting him all the while.

"-you nitwit, you just can't listen, can you, you moron, you bitch, you're so thick-headed, do that again and I swear-"

"You'll what, you'll lock me in the closet?"

All of a sudden, it was like an invisible giant had drowned the room in heavy syrup. The tightness from before returned and Deceit, still breathing hard, glared at Remus with gritted teeth and panicked eyes. The Side was below him, pillow on his chest, grin gone and singlet askew.

That one sentence, although it needed no context to tell who had been on the receiving end of it, brought more distress to the deceitful side than it did to the other, strangely enough. They kept their eyes trained on each other. Neither would admit that they felt like they were breathing molasses and it wasn't sweet. The television had long ago blacked out, a deafening silence following its rather meek departure.

Remus' eyes didn't stop glowing. Deceit's didn't either. None were good signs, but Remus still said, in the rare soft tone his voice could manage at times, "That's the problem, isn't it?"

Deceit swallowed. He turned away and stared at the floor, eyes narrowed to slits. He had put down the remote with controlled harshness on the sofa. He exhaled through his nose and never made eye contact with Remus.

Everyone had their little tics. Remus hated being called scary. Roman was a compulsive perfectionist. Patton had a repression habit. And Thomas didn't want to be a bad person.

Neither did Deceit.

"You know I'm over that, right?"

"... obviously."

That could mean anything, and that wasn't even getting to which part of the question he was answering. Remus bit his tongue. His canines dug into the muscle, and he pulled them out again, breathing in the scent of his own blood. Feeling a bit better, he turned away from Deceit and stared at the black screen of the TV.

"No, really you don't have to worry about it. You worrying about it pisses me off."

Still no response.

"Deceit?" Remus couldn't help but feel a bit concerned at this exchange.

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

"Who--who are you?" Fun blurbled at the figure on all fours before him. Fresh tear stains still stained his cheeks, an ear-to-ear smile etched below his eyes.

Something was off. Heart had run away with someone who looked like him, and had left him alone. He'd never do that. He'd always stuck with him through anything, no matter what he said or did. But the look Heart had given him... it was as if he didn't know what to make of him all of a sudden. Less than that, even.

The figure, still cautious and poised to pounce, didn't answer. Its impossibly wide reptilian eyes glowed bright in the dark, illuminating nothing on its entirely pitch black body, and Fun could make out nothing but a few familiar features.

"Are you a--a Side too?"It flinched and hissed at him. Fun found that he didn't duck away from the grotesque mouth that opened too wide. Or more like, there wasn't anything in his head that told him it was gross. He found it cute because it was gross, in fact.

When the brown-rimmed mouth closed, it was as if it was never there. It glared at him through narrowed eyes and spat at his feet.

"Oh."

With all the pure spite radiating off of the thing, it still approached, walking perfectly on its hands and legs. It didn't look clumsy moving like that, and Fun suspected it had always been that way.

"Wh--what are you doing?"Fun tried not to find this tiny demonic thing adorable. Didn't help matters when it planted its face on his sticky, black knee (... huh.) and walked off.

Before Fun could process what just happened, it turned around with the calmest expression and stared. And waited. It wanted him to follow.

As adorable as the thing was, Fun still had his doubts. He didn't want to leave. This was where his friends were. Curious little Learning, sweet as sugar Heart, cowardly yet caring Careful. But he had a feeling they didn't want to see him again.

It broke his heart.

So with a greasy squelch, Fun struggled to his feet and went with the creature.

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

"Deceit, you need to stop holding yourself over that. We can't be like the Others."

The further lack of response frustrated Remus. He probably should be trying to comfort Deceit, but that wasn't his type. Tough lo--learning would have to do, it was how it always went. They couldn't afford to be wishy-washy with stuff like feelings.

"Deceit, if you don't stop feeling bad about it I'm gonna smack the shit out of you. With my bare hands. And this morning star."

"Aren't you trying too hard not to be Roman?"

Remus slammed his weapon into the pillow. "Well I think you're trying too hard to be Patton!"

"Wouldn't you think Virgil would have wanted that?" Deceit was weary. Remus breathed in sharply through his teeth and stuttered.

"What?"

"It's clear we weren't the best to him. It's not his fault he left. It was for the best. He needs better than us. He deserves better than us."

"What the fuck!" Remus threw up his hands. "What the fuck, Deceit! What happened to being your own person? What happened to not giving a shit about living up to anyone's standards?! You don't know what you're talking about, because you're tired, and you're just a hypocrite who was never able to see past your own horseshit!"

"I know."

Remus wanted to rip his hair out. Deceit's or his own, he didn't really care. "Jesus Christ! Ugh!"

He flumped into a pillow and screamed into it.

Deceit watched him.

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

"You know, it's kinda weird how you don't wanna be called a Side, you know? Like, you look like Heart, and we all know that Heart looks the most like Thomas. So you gotta be pretty important. If you look the most like Thomas. Next to Heart. You know what I'm saying?"

It was still silent. The quiet walk down the tattered corridor had been awkward, and now that they were up the stairs and in some padded room that was probably the creature's, Fun tried to fill the silence as the creature studied him. It prowled around Fun as he sat cross legged on the floor, leaking tar all over the place.

"And, well, Learning is super important too. And Careful. We're all super important." It brushed by his shoulder and stared at his back with interest for a good two seconds before sitting back on its haunches.

"But Learning only looks the second most like Thomas. Careful just likes his hair to be all dangly. Though he clips it back sometimes to fit in? I think? I dunno."

"Anyways, I just thought that maybe once we're done here, with." Fun looked at the creature. "Whatever this is. I could bring you back with me to the others! I just got rid of the bad stuff in me, and once I get all cleaned up, and you too, we'll be all okay again!"

The creature stopped prodding at his back and he could feel it staring into nothing. Fun couldn't help but note the lack of breath on his neck. Either it gave up trying to appear human a long time ago or it was just that short. He giggled at the thought.

But that faded away when he started feeling slight concern. It was too silent. He hated silence. Fun turned to look over his shoulder, then shuffled his body around to peer at the creature, who was now deep in thought.

"Hey bud? What's wrong with ya? Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled. "I've heard that from Learning and Heart a lot. You're gonna love em. They'll help you lighten up! Trust me, we've been through lots together, they'll like you too!"

It lifted its head up and fixated him with the saddest stare anyone could give a Side. Fun felt his excitement at meeting a new friend weather away when he felt that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

A thin line of brown appeared, and widened. It's eyes darted here and there with consideration. It was choosing its words. Fun titled his head as it strained to force out words.

"Not."

"Uh. Huh? You can talk!"

"Fun."

"Wait, what are you saying?"

It bounced in place with clear frustration. After clutching its head and shaking it, it tried again.

"You. Not." It tried once more. "You. Not! You! Not! Fun!"

Fun withered under its glare, a little hurt. "I'm not fun to be with? I'm sorry, uh-"

"No!"

Fun's heart ached for the thing, confused and intrigued. All of them learned how to speak along with Thomas. How was it that this Side didn't?

"Gone."

"..."

"Fun. Gone."

"I really don't understand."

"Fun." It drew a capital F in the air. He nodded, a little less lost. It nodded too.

"Fun. Split. Gone. You. Green. Half. Heart. You. Red. Half. You." It was closer now. It stuck a finger onto Fun's chest, sorrowful expression looking like it was supposed to be welling up with tears. Its jaw trembled. "Half. Bad. Half."

"Not. Their. Fun."

Fun wasn't so sure about anything anymore. He understood it perfectly, he just really didn't want to. "You can't be serious."

It was. It looked as if it has never been more certain of anything in its life. It lowered its head.

Panic gripped him like no other and his mind began racing. He gestured wildly.

"Then--then who's that other half?! They can't go on without Fun! Thomas can't go on without Fun!" The partial emptiness that he'd been trying to ignore a long time ago had grown more apparent as he ranted. "I can't let that happen! What will they do?"

Half. Bad. Half.

It struck. 'Fun' felt his chest drop to his stomach. "They. I'm the bad half."

The creature was still as a statue."They--they think--they think the red me is--is Fun, they, Learning, Careful, H-Heart--they don't know me."

The black and green outfitted grease blob blubbered on. "It's--it's not fair! I know them! I drew pictures with Thomas, I came up with our names, I--I'm--I know what Fun knows!"

He desperately turned to the creature in front of him. "They can't do this! I-if the other me is Fun, then I'm Fun too! I'm still Fun! I still know them! I still love them! At the very least, I'm still one of Thomas' Sides!" The creature silently stared as he kept talking, as his words blurred together with cries of anguish, as he put his forehead to the floor, bunching his sash in his hands. All tears had run out earlier, and there were only bawls of despair that dissolved into whimpers.

The humanoid grease blob didn't know what to call himself anymore. But it still wasn't fair at all. The truth was that. They thought that their Fun had returned from the battle, sword held high and rid of the beast. To them, Fun was better than ever.

But what was he?

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

"When you explained in your dumb loophole way that my stupid ass brother wasn't me, it was the first time you had advice you didn't follow, did you?"

"Remus, you can't pretend you don't feel the same."

"Fuck off!" Remus groaned. "I'm not pretending for anything, Dee, I've said it multiple times, I have nothing I want to hide! But you can't be serious about wanting to be like Patton!"

Deceit pondered his answer. "I may or may not have considered it."

Remus let go of Deceit's shirt slowly. He still fixated him with fierce angry eyes as his fingers loosened, setting the smaller Side down a little. So he didn't actually think it. Just a passing thought. Okay then.

Deceit straightened his collar and smoothed out the wrinkles in his outfit. And he was back to looking sullenly at the a spot on the carpet.

Remus swallowed. God, this was harder than it needed to be. He wondered if this was how Deceit felt when he was younger, rawer in his state, unable to speak in anything but opposites. He didn't have to teach Deceit how to not speak in opposites, because the more they raised each other, the more Deceit's black scales had resided and his speech freedom loosened up.

They always talked it out, they always had to stick close. So why was it so hard now?

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

The squeal of unbridled joy when it was introduced to noir films, the long bath chases, the practice with his creations and tentacles, the nights spent splayed out messily on the same bed after a nightmare. It was simple. So simple.

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

Deceit could feel the stare from Remus leaving him. God, if that moron tried to comfort him now he was going to explode. His eye would leak tears like a broken faucet and he would be a pathetic blubbering mess, and Remus would have blackmail until the day Thomas finally died.

He swore he could feel the long exhale and mutterings as Remus thought on what to say. He really didn't care, in the end. Deceit wanted nothing more than to do his job and think nothing of anything ever again. He didnt--

"Virgil's gone, and there's nothing we can or could do about it. Because of how we are. It's jackshit to say we can change our nature. Nothing. Nada. Zero." Firm hands with black acrylics gripped his shoulder and turned his tired eyes onto Remus' own.

"Feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything. Things happen, jackoff."

Deceit's breath hitched, but he didn't quite feel like crying, oddly enough. Strange that through gritted teeth and eyes that could gleam death to anyone who doesn't know Remus well, he felt more clarification than all his thoughts combined. His mind had chanted a mantra of things his whole life, and what Remus said was only one of them. Deceit had been hoping to finally hear them from an outside source. But somehow, someway, Remus had found a way to make this line of reasoning sound less harsh.

Unpredictable as always.

"Remus. I.."

He placed his hands gently on Remus' wrists, patted twice. Remus let go and studied him, an air of sternness and also nervousness apparent in his face. They simmered in the unsaid apology, sitting on the couch in their lonely, mangy living room, like it was a vague yet satisfactory ending to a movie. That was how all their arguments would usually end, but it was rarely in any way fulfilling.

Deceit thought on it. Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he choked out a laugh. "God, we're such a mess."

Glad the tension was broken, Remus smiled, ugly shark teeth in full view. "Yeah we are. We're the Mindscape's dumpster fires."

They were delirious with more emotion than they experienced on a daily basis, and they both chortle along to Remus' weak joke. Jesus, if you could lose fat due to mental work as well as physical, Thomas would be underweight by now.

Remus shook his head. "Honestly, you can't think too much about it. Just think of all the times we battered each other in this place, and you'll feel better about the closet thing."

Deceit snorted. "How is it that I'm more affected by it than you? Like all the times you ripped out my hair."

"Or all the times you silenced us whenever you felt like it."

"Or all those times you slammed me in to a hard surface."

"Remember that one time you left me in the closet for a week?"

"I still remember how I silenced Virgil for a month."

Remus snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Virgil, I remember how many times he gave us hallucinations. Sometimes he'd give us panic attacks for the hell of it!" He laughed.

"He was always quite the hothead."

"That's not even counting his stabs. Not just with a knife."

"Knowing you, that could mean anything."

Remus swooshed his hands in a rainbow-shaped gesture gleefully."Oooooh, whatever you want it to mean!" The joke was lacking and childish, but Remus' delivery was so goofy.

Deceit chuckled, back of his hand pressed daintily to his mouth as always. Remus giggled in short bursts of high-pitched derangement along with him.

Then it dissolved into awkward silence as they pondered their situation, up at ass o' clock in the morning, sprawled over the couch in undignified manners, dim light flickering because they were too depressed to fix it, talking about unreasonable hostile behavior so casually like they were fond memories of family vacations.

"... let's go make breakfast."

"Okay, Caution Ramen."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hazard Spaghetti. Murder Spagurder."

"...what."

"Judgemental Shoelace."

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

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

"No! Get away!" The sobbing figure cowered away from the green and yellow-tinted Sides, if you could call them that.

Bad Thoughts put his hands out. "Woah, woah, hey, we won't hurt you! Much."

Deceit slapped Bad Thoughts as the Side, who was slowly fading into a full black and purple from the legs up, put his hands in his hair and screamed louder. "Shut up! Go away! I'm sorry! Please! I hate you! Go away!"

"Well that's a lot of mixed signals." Bad Thoughts muttered. Careful looked a lot different from what he had remembered. He was seeming more tired and grievous. A faint spark of recognition flashed across Careful's eyes when he peeked up at him, but ducked away when Bad Thoughts stretched the arm with his morning star.

Without a word, Deceit knelt down and wrapped his arms around Careful. He flinched, but he stopped sobbing at least. He was still breathing hard when BT decided to join in, planting himself as softly as he knew how to on Caution.

"You're okay," Deceit murmured. "You're alright. You won't hurt anyone. You won't do that."

Caution hiccupped, staring at the ceiling, eyes brimming with angry tears. He hissed though gritted teeth."How--how do you know? You don't understand, I cause so many problems--"

"Yeah, we do. We know that. But that's you." Remus said. "Who cares if you do? Causing problems is what we do around here. You can't blame yourself for doing what you do best."

Caution was still dubious. He was sniffling. Slowly, he put his arms on Deceit's back. "I don't want to make more trouble."

Deceit lowered his head onto his shoulder. "Just come with us. We cause trouble, but whether you want to do that is up to you."

The black was receding, but the purple still lingered a little. All four of Caution's eyes blinked.

Remus pulled away, leaving only his hand on Careful's shoulder. His old friend, who didn't know who he was, who was meeting him for the first time. "Besides, I don't think you meant to cause that breakdown."

Caution finally turned and looked, actually looked at him for the first time since they were children. "You don't?"

"Nope!"

The purple color was down to his knees again. The black was gone.

"But," Caution started, both Sides pulling back to give him space. "But, it was so unnecessary, and--and the whole damn class was watching, and the other sides were freaked out-"

"Yeah, so? It was cool! Don't you think it's some way of letting everyone know that Thomas was upset? Things were getting hairy and you pulled it off perfectly." Remus gave an exaggerated chef's kiss in the air.

"That power is something only you hold, storm cloud." Deceit said. "Like Remus said, it's who you are. It was quite the display."

Caution eyed them suspiciously. "Yeah, well, you guys would think so."

"Don't you see? If you come with us, you can learn to control that! You can choose your own rules, you can choose when you want to have influence over Thomas!" Deceit lowered his voice. "You can protect Thomas by forcing the others to hear how much you try."

Caution didn't make eye contact, finding it difficult when two people stared at once. But he was thinking about it, clearly. The others had been trying to ignore him lately, and no one had to be a genius to figure that out. The rise and fall of his chest grew a little quicker as he realized how unfair it was that he was just trying to be a Side, and Thomas didn't care. The spite and betrayal was evident in his eyes, the same that had plagued Bad Thoughts and Deceit so many times in their childhood.

It was decided.

He looked up with grim determination. "C-call me Fear."

Previous parts here and here

Claustrophobic Remus post here

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