#and then that picture of David on the mantle?

[mystic-writings]

sneak out | jess mariano

PAIRING — jess mariano x fem!gilmore!reader SUMMARY — minutes into your mother’s dinner party, jess suggests you sneak out through your bedroom window - and you can’t help but agree WARNINGS — fluff, jess and reader being ‘troubled’ teens, a bit of angst, reader venting WORD COUNT — 2,322 NOTES — the idea of lorelai having a teen that was just like her is so appealing to me idk why - also would you believe me if i told you i listened to yung gravy while writing the majority of this fic

masterlist | navigation

You weren’t sure which was worse - the dinner your mother was hosting, or the idea that you now had to put up with a whole night of Luke’s strange nephew, whom you’d never met before.

Of course, you loved your family to pieces, and you loved Sookie and Jackson; hell, sometimes you looked at Luke as more of a father than you did your actual dad, but having everyone together for what you knew would be at least a three course meal, under one roof, with Luke’s mysterious nephew from New York, just felt draining.

So, to preserve what little social battery you had left for the day, you decided to spend the time between school and dinner in your room upstairs with a good book and a cd playing from the player that sat on your dresser at a low volume. You had to change the cd twice, first from one of your mothers Bangles cds to a Smiths one, but just as you were enjoying the beginning of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album (and nearly finishing up your book), did you hear the clanging of pots and pans from downstairs, as well as Sookie and Jackson’s lighthearted bickering.

You managed to bury yourself back into your book, one leg crossed loosely over the other outstretched one as you half-sat, half-laid on your bed, being mindful of your shoes so as to not get any dirt on your covers.

From downstairs, Jess was wandering around the Gilmore home as everyone else did whatever they were doing in the kitchen, internally monologuing and half-mocking their decor. He’d met Rory already, and she seemed like a nice enough girl. Enjoyed books. But he had yet to meet the third and final Gilmore girl, who so far had only been mentioned. However, as Jess scanned the various photographs on the mantle, he could hear the faint guitar of Suffragette City emanating from somewhere upstairs.

After peeking down the hallway to make sure no one was watching, Jess smirked and snuck up the stairs, into what was surely off-limits territory for someone like him. Still, he took the stairs two at a time and stealthily, managing to avoid all the places that would creak in a house like this one, despite never stepping foot inside beforehand. He followed the music down the hall, past some more paintings and pictures, to another bedroom. The door was open, and he was able to take a look inside. Posters covered most of the wall, leaving little space to show off the paint beneath them. Bookshelves occupied the wall right beside the door, and similarly to Rory’s room, they looked stuffed to the brim with books.

On the bed, facing him, was the person he assumed to be the final Gilmore girl - Rory’s twin sister. He watched intently, scanning every feature of your focused face as you scanned the final pages of the book you were reading. How your brow furrowed, eyes locked on the ink before you. The way the foot that hung off the edge of the bed was moving to the beat of the song.

Once Jess had decided that he’d been watching you long enough to constitute stalking, and how that was probably extremely creepy, he nudged the door open with a creak and stepped inside, clearing his throat and pulling his lips into a slight smirk. “Hey there, Ziggy.”

At first, you thought that your mother was finally calling you down to dinner, until you heard the unusually male - and entirely unfamiliar - voice come from the body in your doorway. Tucking a receipt into your book to mark your place, you glared over at the boy standing in your room with his hands behind his back, smugness rolling off of him in waves as he admired your room.

“You’re Jess, aren’t you.” Your flat tone seemed to amuse him.

“How nice, you already know my name. I’m flattered.”

You watched him as he walked around your room, over to the window where your desk was, trying to figure him out as he peeled back your curtains. “It’s impossible to not know someone’s name in this town, even someone who’s only been here for 28 hours.”

He chuckled. “Nice one, Ziggy. Now tell me, why aren’t you downstairs with the rest of the freakshow? I mean, they are your family, after all, aren’t they?”

You pretended to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Sorry to break it to you, Mariano, but I’ve been banned from the freakshow. Apparently having apathy toward any sort of Gilmore humour is forbidden, and they’ve locked me away forever.”

“Aw, so sorry to hear that.” Jess mocked, placing a hand over his heart with an exaggerated pout. “I can’t believe they shunned such a ray of sunshine.” He smirked at your rolled eyes. “No, really, you must be a real treat at parties.”

“Quit it, Mariano. Is there a reason you came up here or did you just want to cause enough trouble to get kicked out of our beloved Stars Hollow? Because if so, you came to the right girl.”

Jess’ brow quirked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you heaved a dramatic sigh, slipping off your bed to walk over to Jess. “But it’s like… 9pm on a Wednesday. In Stars Hollow. Even if I wanted to cause trouble, and I don’t, because I did enough of that at school today, there’s nothing to do. Everyone’s asleep, and I’m pretty sure our 24-hour mini-mart closed like, half an hour ago.”

Now it was Jess’ turn to roll his eyes. “Your sister said that already. Is there seriously nothing to do here?”

“Nope.” You shrugged, just as a thought came to mind. “Well… there is one thing…” Jess’ eyebrows raised at the prospect of having something fun to do, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not anything revolutionary, you know.”

“Still, give me something, anything, to get us out of here, Ziggy. I’m begging you. I’m being suffocated by the stale air of suburban life.”

You nodded, tapping your fingers on your thigh. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you gotta do one thing for me.”

“What is it? I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“Stop calling me Ziggy.” You said. “It’s a stupid nickname, and although I admire the fact that you listen to David Bowie enough to come up with a nickname like that one, I hate it. Call me by my actual name.”

“Well I would, if I knew it.”

“My mother never told you my name?” You asked with a raised brow. “She never shuts up about me and Rory, I’m surprised you never caught it.”

“Apparently, I didn’t. It seems she likes talking about Rory more.” Jess shrugged. “At least, around me she does.” He barely caught the slight sag of your shoulders, the drop in your demeanour, before you picked it back up and smiled.

“Well, Jess. I’m Y/n. Y/n Gilmore.” After a pause, you looked around and snagged a sweater from the chair in the corner of your room. “Now, if you’ll follow me, let’s go have as much fun as we’re able to in Stars Hollow at night.”

Jess waited impatiently behind you as you unlatched the window by your desk and pushed it up, slipping through and holding it open for him. As he clamoured out, you grabbed the rock underneath the window and placed it on the windowsill, lowering the window so you’d still be able to get back in later.

You could still hear the tail end of the album playing as Jess looked around.

“How are we supposed to get down?”

“The trellis, obviously.” You said, carefully making your way across the porch’s roof to the trellis right next to the kitchen window. “Just don’t make much noise, this thing is right next to the kitchen’s window and if we get caught we’re screwed. Follow my lead, and run when you hit the ground, got it?”

“Got it.”

Scaling down the trellis was basically second nature to you, but you made sure to look up every once in a while to make sure Jess was doing okay. He seemed to be, which comforted you somehow. You waited at the bottom for him, making sure to stay out of view of the window to the kitchen and the edge of the porch, which were on either side of the trellis, and could possibly get both you and Jess grounded.

When he landed, he looked at you, and a dish clattered in the kitchen. You both snapped to the window, then back to each other. On instinct, you took his hand and ran toward the woods.

“Where the hell are we going?!” Jess whisper-shouted.

“Relax!” You whisper-shouted back, slowing to a stop as soon as you were hidden in the tree line. “We’re not going into the woods, dumbass. What do you think would’ve happened if we waltzed out in the open in front of the living room window?”

Jess only sighed and nodded, letting go of your hand. He let you lead him through the trees, keeping the light of the house close to you, walking around the garage and past all the cars, waiting until Babette’s house was out of sight until you stepped back onto the road.

The walk was calm and quiet, crickets and the breeze occupying you instead of chatter. After a while, when you were beginning to reach the town centre, Jess spoke up. “So, what now?”

You shrugged. “Not sure. Usually I head to the lake, bring a book, or a cd player and some headphones. I don’t normally bring people with me, you know?”

Jess nodded, lips slightly pursed. The walk continued through the town, passing by shop after shop, all of them closed for the night. You had to admit, you weren’t used to taking walks like these, out in the open. Normally you’d find whichever path kept you out of the possible sight of the townspeople, a habit you developed after Taylor snitched on you to your mother after he caught you walking to the lake by the Inn when you were 12. Still, it was nice, and even if you were caught, you somehow didn’t seem to mind it.

As the buildings were fading again and you knew you were approaching the lake, you checked your watch. 9:27pm. You sighed, and Jess looked at you. Dropping your arm, you shook your head. “Almost 9:30. They definitely have to know something’s up at home. Probably sending out a search party by now.” You told him, before shrugging. “Or, you know, miraculously, they forgot we existed and are eating Sookie’s delicious no-allergen, fourteen course meal as we speak.”

Jess scoffed. “Yeah, right. Luke might not care that much, but Lorelai? She seems like the world’s most protective parent.”

“She is.” You confirmed, sitting on your usual bench, eyes following Jess as he sat next to you. “Trust me, I love her to death, but it gets annoying sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, at least you have a protective mom.” Jess’ hands gripped the edge of the bench, his body hunched forward, making him look small, ready to run at a moment’s notice. “Mine decided I wasn’t worth the effort. Shipped me off to this… circus show without so much as a ‘sayonara, kid.’ You’re lucky.”

You frowned. Everyone knew within the hour of him arriving in Stars Hollow that Jess was a troubled kid, but even troubled kids deserved parents that cared. He was right, though, you were lucky. It just didn’t feel like it.

“I know I’m lucky, Jess, but it’s not all rainbows for me, you know.”

“Oh yeah? How?” He scoffed. “You have the perfect life, Y/n. A mom that cares, a great twin sister - hell, even Luke sings your praises.”

“Luke sings?”

Jess rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s not like that all the time, Jess.” You sighed. “My ‘great’ twin sister is, apparently, so great that she has all eyes on her at all times. My grandparents are always so proud of her for being so smart and planning this amazing, expensive, studious future - they’re planning on funding it, too, from the sounds of things. I just want to live, you know?” You kicked a rock with your shoe, avoiding Jess’ concerned gaze.

“And my mother seems more concerned about her wellbeing than mine, closer to her than to me. But somehow she wonders why I’m the troubled one. I mean, I act out, I barely go to that stupid prep school because it’s so suffocating, and I got an eyebrow piercing without permission instead of taking a calculus test last month, which I’m just getting out of that punishment. Everyone’s so focused on Rory and how seemingly great she is, I don’t even remember the last time I was appreciated for anything. And don’t even get me started on my dad.”

“Sounds like these freaks don’t know a good person when they see one.” Jess told you. “You seem chill. Adventurous, too. But just because you aren’t appreciated doesn’t mean you aren’t good enough.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You too, Jess.” The world quieted around you for a moment, stars shining off the rippling waters of the lake. “But we don’t need to be good enough for them. Just good enough for us.”

He smiled, nodding once at you. Again, you appreciated the silence with him, watching the water or the sky. It wouldn’t be long until Luke and your mother found you both, you with your head on his shoulder and one knee bent to your chest, laughing quietly at a joke he told as you continued to get to know one another. But that was later. For now, you simply sat and watched the water, wishing the moment could last for the rest of your lives.

permanent taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @heliads

jess mariano taglist: open!

taglist form is in my navigation!

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano fluff #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls x reader

[geekcavepodcast]

"DC Finest" Collections to Focus on Characters and Genres

DC Comics has announced DC Finest, a new set of large-size paperback collections that will focus on characters, genres, and periods in the DC library. For example, a "Robin" collection or "Green Lantern" collection may feature multiple characters who have donned the mantles.

The first DC Finest collections include:

"DC Finest – The Flash: The Human Thunderbolt - classic adventures of Silver Age Flash Barry Allen by John Broome and Carmine Infantino, including 1956’s iconic Showcase #4 and stories that include the first appearances of Captain Cold, Mirror Master, Gorilla Grodd, and other Flash rogues.

DC Finest – Batman: Year One & Two - collects stories set after Crisis on Infinite Earths like Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli's Batman: Year One and Mike W. Barr and Todd McFarlane's Batman: Year Two in addition to ’80s Batman stories from Barr, Max Allan Collins, Norm Breyfogle, and more.

DC Finest – Wonder Woman: Origins & Omens - "spotlights fan-favorite writer Gail Simone’s run on Wonder Woman, starting with 2007’s “The Circle,” with artist Terry Dodson, plus celebrated story arcs “Ends of the Earth,” “Rise of the Olympian,” and “Warkiller,” featuring art by Aaron Lopresti." (DC Comics)

DC Finest – Catwoman: Life Lines - collects "Catwoman’s 1989 solo debut by Mindy Newell and J.J. Birch, Peter Milligan and Tom Grindberg’s Catwoman Defiant from 1992, and the first year of DC’s Catwoman ongoing series, by writer Jo Duffy and artist Jim Balent." (DC Comics)

DC Finest – Superman: The Coming of Superman - collects "the Man of Steel’s earliest and most iconic adventures, starting with Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster’s groundbreaking Action Comics #1." (DC Comics) The collection also includes Action Comics #1-25, Superman #1-5, and New York World’s Fair Comics #1.

(Image via DC Comics - Promo Picture for DC Finest)

#dc comics #dc finest #superman #flash #batman #catwoman #wonder woman #TGCLiz

[c-jay-s-head-canons-only]

Schnee family sword names have had my interest for quite some time now. So here, I'll be figuring out what they look like, along with their names.

Up first, we have Nicholas Schnee.

This man is quite literally a knight in shining armour. But his sword isn't one of the Oakeshott typology. According to The World of Remnant Short, Nicholas actually uses a sabre and pistol.

Contrary to what may be popular belief, there is a discipline for this style of fighting in HEMA, and yes, it involves using a sabre - specifically either a spadroon or a boarding cutlass according to David Rawlings.

Regarding what sword he would use, I believe his hands are very big. He was a miner, after all, and he's clearly shown wielding a pickaxe as well.

Therefore, I think his sword would be a two-handed sabre, like this.

More specifically, it would have the swept hitl guard, and the grip. But I picture the blade being a little wider, and the pommel having a more 'flowery' shape. Something like this.

Separate thought here: take note of the pommel in the picture. Does it look a bit familiar?

I think so. :3

Regarding a name, I think this sword is called Wurzel, which is the German word for Root.

The reason being that Weiss explains how her father wasn't the man who started the Schnee family, and she also refuses to be the last of it.

I agree. Her motive is honorable. Jacques was a jackass after all.

But something tells me that the true Schnee legacy doesn't go back much further than Nicholas himself. Therefore, I view Nicholas as the Root of his family tree.

Incidentally, I believe the sword was forged using part of a meteorite, which landed in the mining areas in Mantle, hitting a vein of ice and absorbing the power from it.

From the unique metal combined with the ice dust, the blade was especially good at freezing through objects and other weapons. The sword was retired from service not long before Nicholas died and has seen no action since.

#rwby #schnee family #schnee swords #sword types #sword names #nicholas schnee #willow schnee #winter schnee #weiss schnee #german names #flowers

[dailycass-cain]

So a few weeks ago I hit over 5,000 followers on Twitter. As promised, tonight I look into the history Cass has with Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon. By doing so I'll answer the question: is Cass more of a Gordon or a Wayne?

To fully answer this question we've got to start all the way to the beginning with "No Man's Land" the Batman event that introduced Cassandra into the Batman world. Though originally in the comics Cass didn't show up until midway into the event. The novel by Greg Rucka however-

--Cass is shown in the story early on.  The move plants the seeds of the bonds the two will share for quite a long time. Here's the section involving Cass from the audio drama based on the novel.

More so, it has to be understood that the novel is the first time Cass is called by her name, and it is Barbara who gives her it. As the comics only called her Batgirl or an agent of Babs at the time.

This bit is retconned later in Batgirl Vol. 1 with the name business being more associated with Cass making the connection that she and Lady Shiva share a similar first name and--

-- in Batman & Robin Eternal where David Cain is the one to give Cass her name.  

You could theorize the reason this was taken away was to further separate Cass from Babs (and we'll get to that portion) and balance the Shiva as Cass' mother revelation.

It should also be noted, Babs watches through NML and then realizes that someone has taken up the Batgirl mantle (Helena Bertinelli) and Bruce is okay with it. This sets off Babs as it wasn't given her approval.

When Helena makes three mistakes, she's sacked as Batgirl.  This is where Bruce enters our picture with Cass. It's this fallout that causes Two-Face to further try and heighten his power in NML by taking out Jim Gordon.

Leading to him hiring assassin David Cain and Cass being caught in the crosshairs as she saves the father of her guardian (Babs). It's thru foiling these two attempts and her method of ending the contract Two-Face put on Gordon that puts Cass on Bruce's radar.

With Bruce realizing he can't conquer NML problem on his own, decides he'll need the Bat-Family to fully assist him on this. However, comes the sacking of Helena as Batgirl.

The move is later retconned in "Batman knew what Helena would go and do" thus ensuring he didn't have to look out the area she was at. Plus conquer taking a stand against the Joker in the final month of NML.

But back to the Bat-Family gathering, with a new member a title had to be bestowed on her, and with Babs blessing, Cassandra Cain became the new Batgirl.

The next step in the evolution of both came with Batgirl Vol. 1 #1 as both Bruce/Babs were key to Cass's supporting cast in the comic. Bruce more the stern boss, while Babs the motherly figure that watched and helped her.

I think this distinction should be noted as well the fatherly aspect didn't really develop over in Cass's main book. Rather, Batman: Gotham Knights (but more on that soon).  

Instead um... 😶😶😶

Okay, I'm gonna talk about the "bat in the room" aka the thing mostly everyone just buries when it comes to Bruce being a father figure to Cass and that's well the latter having a MAJOR crush on him.

It's something the Kelley Puckett run doesn't focus on thankfully (more going onto boss and later parental). Dylan Horrock's run which followed however um... 

See the key to Horrock's was Cass coming to terms with her teen hormones, sexuality (both her own and seeing others lust after her), and how to properly deal with them.

In the end, she realizes how to deal with two (Kon she just wants to be friends with and Black Wind well-- he kind of dies). 

 Then there's Bruce. Who she feels maybe is jealous of all her suitors (he’s acting more parental at least overbearingly). And it leads to um.. moments like this in #50 which Babs theorizes.

Now it's known by Babs, that Cass does have a crush on Bruce. Something that's brought up also in Gotham Knight at this time period during the whole "Is Bane Bruce's brother subplot".

So this whole period has this um.. sketchy subtextual period.  However, it is also Batman: Gotham Knight that also begins to lay the foundation of Bruce to treat Cass like a daughter.

Likewise, Cass's interactions with Dick/Tim are here in this comic too (which I covered in their evolutionary relationship with Cass) where their bonds became sibling-like.   

 Here for Dick and here for Tim.

Though it's not like Cass just had thoughts for Bruce, as we learn creators in the late '04 to '05 period creators on both Batgirl/Robin thought of the pair as romantic interests (hence why you have A LOT of ship art from that period until '07 when a certain heel turn basically sank it until a little bit or revival in ‘11).

So yeah, Puckett era and most of Horrocks' run? Cass was a Gordon. Literally, she even thinks of Babs not as something more than just a sister in #25, but as a mother.

Likewise, Babs sees the warning signs that something is truly up with Cass throughout the whole Shiva subplot whereas Bruce is more, "She has to confront Shiva and get thru this phase." And Babs is all, "THIS IS GONNA KILL HER!"

ut as we know Cass still goes thru with confronting Shiva, even with Babs' attempts to sway her from doing so.

Regardless, Cass is more Babs' daughter from Puckett to Horrocks.

Where it begins to shift toward fatherly with Bruce and her becoming a Wayne? You can probably begin with "Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive" where four BIG events happen in Cass's life.

David Cain targets both Bruce and Babs. 

Cass learns Bruce is Batman. 

Cain's “motive” for targeting them both (he’s honoring a contract made by Lex Luthor. 

Cain surrenders to confess to the murder of Vesper Fairchild leading to his incarceration.

Why target both? Because David figures both turned their daughter against him. However, it is AFTER this Bruce develops his more um-- bat dickery approach to Cass but also the sketchy stuff. At least for Horrocks. This is where Puckett has Bruce be more parental toward Cass right after this event. 

So it's near the end of Horrock's run that we reach our impasse where it all diverges.  Because at the end of the "War Games" event, Babs was leaving Gotham, taking away her as a mentor/mother role to Cass.

The other being the loss of Stephanie Brown aka Cass's best friend. Two key supporting members of Batgirl Vol. 1 and Horrocks left the book because of it.

Still, he wrote the catalyst which would break Cass/Babs apart in #54. Something that I covered when talking about Cass's Dyslexia disability.

The reasoning is understandable as Cass was neglecting her lessons and well mistakes are made. But this moment is what leads to the two having a fractured relationship.

While later Batgirl writer Andersen Gabrych does lay the seeds to mend that relationship in #67.  Well, he didn't have to time to finish it. Nor did Gail Simone, writer of BoP either. 

Though he did showcase more how much Cass was the mirror to Bruce during this time period. 

Because basically, all this is happening right around...

The period of the end of Batgirl Vol. 1 and the beginning of Cass's "heel" turn. Though we can hate on the turn there is one moment within Robin #148 which has Babs reacting rocked with Cass "dying".

Likewise, we have in BoP when Misfit showed up in her intro arc wanting to be the new Batgirl and Babs snapping at Charlotte when "Cass" is brought up.

The thing is if we're gonna go on and say who truly made Cass fully a Wayne in the conscious mind. It would be Batgirl Vol. 2 #1-6 aka “Redemption Road”.

I get the "why" as it takes Cass FULLY into being a Wayne here. Bruce/Tim are full-on family mode trying to keep Cass afloat while writer Adam Beechen addresses the grand flaws with the main Bat Books and Bat-Family (aka Dick).

I get the "why" this is Beechen trying to cement Cass and giving her the direction the story was going with the character AT THAT  POINT.

That's not to say he disregards Babs' time with Cass though. As in the story, she helps aid Cass in her quest of revenge. Though again, David Cain attempts to take her out (this time more for what she does than for the secondary reason).

But it's clear by stories' end where Cass is going as a character. She's a Wayne.

I get it the "why" as Beechen was undoing the damage he himself accidentally wrought on the character during this time period. This was him correcting the great claws in the infamous period of '06 to '07. 

Aka...

This hot mess:

But as we know this is where Cass's journey with both ended abruptly as minds were made to put Babs' back as Batgirl and for Cass to be ousted from the role.

Except things went another route instead. Let's just say '09 was a rough period because DC was gonna DC.

Though when Cass was brought back. I'd be curious to know what Gail would've done if she was allowed Cass as she originally wanted during her "Brightest Day" run of Birds of Prey.

It's a little "what if" I wonder what would've happened if Grant Morrison and Fabian Nicieza hadn't beaten her to the punch and reinvented the character as Black Bat with a path being the Batman of Hong Kong and further seeding the brother/sister dynamic she had with Tim.

Because sadly that's where the trail ends for Babs/Cass in the Pre-New 52 era. Wayne portion though? “Gates of Gotham” by Scott Snyder and Kyle Higgins continued to build where Batgirl Vol. 2 left off.

This mini though never fully said aloud basically strengthens the bounds of Cass and her brothers. We get so many good moments in this mini with her, Tim, and Dick while also the first meeting she has with Damian.

I think unknowingly this and the New 52 is why mostly Cass is more associated with the Wayne side than Gordons. Because unfortunately right across the horizon was...

We all know how DC "handled" Cass during this era.

I think this is where the clear distinction was fully cast off here. Because DC thought by having Cass around it would negate Babs' return as Batgirl.

HOWEVER!!

It's never said during the Future's End: Batgirl #1  but it sure as heck implied that Babs went on an adopting spree taking in Cass, Steph, and Tiffany.

I think of it and three other stories as the last beacons of Cass being a Gordon.

Because two years after this Cass was reintroduced into the DCU. However with provisions. One of those was crystal clear: no history with Babs.

Why?

If you know the "age-old" DC rule of this era. To acknowledge or establish Babs back as a mentor/mother figure to Cass it would "age" Babs up. Certain folk at DC wanted Babs as younger not older.

So it's not surprising AT ALL that Cass never appeared in Batgirl Vol. 5 until the very end. Now it's not surprising given Babs was doing her own thing with creators trying to find the character's path in the Rebirth era.

Not to mention for Cass? She was branded more toward Wayne side in her new origin as she appeared during Dick Grayson's "first year" as Robin now and was retconned being the second child Bruce encountered and tried to protect.

Which led us to this glorious moment.

However, DC still didn't want to fully dive into this because again it would "age Bruce up". So "half-measures" were taken and Cass was a "backseat Bat-Family member" than the "inner circle" (Bruce, Alfred, Damian, Babs, Dick, and Jason).

That's not to say writers (Snyder and his student James Tynion IV) wanted that reestablishment with either.

Oh, it was literally throughout the Rebirth Tec era. Just in small doses until the very end. When we got the FULL shot.

Along with this additional nugget of Cass going off to be mentored by Babs. Though those looking in Batgirl Vol. 5 would find this instead:

And again continued to find that until the very last issue for some reason. A part of me always wanted to ask any of the writers of Batgirl Vol. 5 but...  just never felt the need given--

-- we got "an answer" aka the third bone tossed on the side of Gordon with Bryan Edward Hill's Tec run aka #983-986 where we got MANY nods to the past with Babs/Cass.

It's just before we got any more with the two the door kind of closed shut on this side tightly.

Oh sure, we got Batgirls and so much. But never once (sadly) does it feel like Cass is a Gordon or Babs is mother/mentor to her. It's more Babs feels like the out-of-touch older member of the trio who's trying to fit in with the youths.

The Wayne side on the other hand? Oh, Bryan Edward Hill's Batman & the Outsider run was ALL about reestablishing that thanks to a concerned mother (among other elements).

And that whole end reached its crux with the series' end, a certain someone getting fired from DC, James Tynion IV's Batman run, and Batman Wayne Family Adventures.

All of this mish-mashed together gave us Cassandra Cain Wayne. But what of the Gordon side? I feel it's important to understand that there is one graphic novel that realized the importance more of Babs had with Cass more than Bruce did. 

 Of course, I speak of Shadow of the Batgirl. Where Cass gets TWO mother figures in the series. Jackie and Babs.

Writer Sarah Kuhn showcases WHY Babs is so critical to Cass's origin more than Bruce is. Thematically, Kuhn realized elements that are just more poetic between the two and we have the closest thing to what Puckett originally established.

Kind why the work is so highly recommended Kuhn took all the stuff that worked, took out what didn't, and added her own spin to the material.

It really showcases why Babs is more a necessity to Cass than Bruce is. I mean sure Bruce has his positivities too as a parental figure. It just takes what NML was giving. The next Batgirl finding Babs and her giving the teen the life she so craved.

However, Babs/Bruce represents the two sides to what Cass craves so in the end, she is both a Gordon and a Wayne.

It's just that during the "New 52" one side got lost because it would "age" Babs up, while for Bruce it was light on the "Wayne" side.

Why you have more Wayne than Gordon. But even with the bias we have still gotten nods to the past.

That's not to say there is a current DC writer who fully understands BOTH sides to the coin. Just that she's never fully gotten the chance to. *cough* Mariko Tamaki *cough*

So there is my final say as to "Is Cassandra Cain a Wayne or a Gordon"?

#cassandra cain #barbara gordon #bruce wayne #dc comics

[castlesrp]

The Anderson Family

Dionysus : Vineyard Distillery Dynasty

The legacy of the Anderson family begins on the West Coast, beginning three generations ago with a dream of a vineyard that ended up scaling to a global enterprise that left the Anderson Distilleries as one of the leading wine and alcohol distilleries in North America. First Anderson (83) has since retired as president, handing over the reigns to his eldest and enjoying his golden years with his wife First Anderson (84). First Anderson (58) has taken over the family mantle, taking a very hands-on approach to try and prove himself, all the while grappling with the difficulty of spending his time split between California and New York City. First Anderson (58) has kept herself busy and avoided empty nest syndrome as their six children have moved out, volunteering her time as the President of the New York City Junior League.

First Holloway (55) has always been a bit of a wildfire radical in the family, which was why her father made her the Head of Brand Development and Innovation before his retirement. In this new role, she has worked to elevate the brand of Anderson Distilleries to new heights, including branching out into the new territory of legalized marijuana and partnering with First Holloway (54)’s chain of dispensary stores that have opened since legalization and the aid of First Lancaster (59) as legal counsel; this was met with distrust on both sides, as the Lancaster and Anderson families have had generations of rivalry with one another. They have four children, three of which are adopted, and have always kept an open door policy for their kids and any of their kid’s friends - if they’re going to drink, she’d rather they do it in the house.

A bit more gruff and pulled together than the rest of his siblings, First Anderson (52) has also branched the Anderson name into another venture as the owner and operator of Anderson Brewery in SoHo, happily married to First Anderson (52) with two children of their own. First Gallagher (50) may be the youngest, but she’s quite successful in her own right as the Director of International Expansion for Anderson Distilleries. Very business-focused and ambitious, she and First Gallagher (50) have their perfect nuclear family with one son and one daughter - painting the picture of the idyllic American Dream. Whether or not that's truly the case behind closed doors is another story.

First Anderson: 83 Years Old, Retired President of Anderson Distilleries, Steve Martin, Available + First Anderson: 84 Year Old, Open Occupation, Diane Keaton, Available

First Anderson: 58 Years Old, President of Anderson Distilleries, Ewan McGregor, Available + First Anderson: 58 Years Old, Junior League President, Gillian Anderson, Available ----- First Anderson: 31 Years Old, Open Occupation, Austin Butler, Available ----- First Anderson: 29 Years Old, Open Occupation, Tom Blyth, Available ----- First Anderson: 27 Years Old, Open Occupation, Harry Styles, Available ----- First Anderson: 23 Years Old, Open Occupation, Anya Taylor Joy, Available ----- First Anderson: 21 Years Old, Open Occupation, Kit Connor 1, Available * ----- First Anderson: 21 Years Old, Open Occupation, Kit Connor 2, Available * * Note: Anderson (21) and Anderson (21) are identical twins.

First Holloway: 55 Years Old, Head of Brand Development and Innovation of Anderson Distilleries, Kathryn Hahn, Available + First Holloway: 54 Years Old, Dispensary CEO, Jason Sudeikis, Available ----- First Holloway: 30 Years Old, Open Occupation, Simu Liu, Available * ----- First Holloway: 27 Years Old, Open Occupation, Tom Holland, Available ----- First Holloway: 25 Years Old, Open Occupation, Lana Condor, Available * ----- First Holloway: 24 Years Old, Open Occupation, Hailee Steinfeld, Available * * Note: Holloway (30), Holloway (25), and Holloway (24) are adopted

First Anderson: 52 Years Old, Owner and Head Brewer of Anderson Brewery, David Harbour, Available + First Anderson: 52 Years Old, Open Occupation, Christina Hendricks, Available ----- First Anderson: 26 Years Old, Open Occupation, Wolfgang Novogratz, Available ----- First Anderson: 21 Years Old, Open Occupation, Sadie Sink, Available

First Gallagher: 50 Years Old, Director of International Expansion of Anderson Brewery, Rosamund Pike, Available + First Gallagher: 50 Years Old, Open Occupation, John Krasinski, Available ----- First Gallagher: 28 Years Old, Open Occupation, Thomas Doherty, Available ----- First Gallagher: 26 Years Old, Open Occupation, Lili Reinhart, Available

#roleplay #jcink #bio rp #skeleton rp #jcink rp #canons

[krushkreates]

tw: mental health talk, talk of anxiety and depression, and mild allusions to death, skin/cuticle picking, mentions of the inversion, crying, and snakes/serpents

-

the thing abt asher is that he’s not the most observant person ever. it’s not to say he isnt oblivious, but subtly isn’t his strong suit. over the years though (and the years spent working security rlly do hone ur observational skills), he can proudly say he can notice a lot of small things and is a better people watcher. this obliviousness, however, never impeded on his loved ones.

he’s always noticed the slight way david frowns before trying to politely dismiss someone after they yell at him about the quote for a weekend job. he’s never missed the way milo tugs on his right earlobe when he’s stressed or how christian looks to the left when he’s lying or how arden hides some of her laughter behind her hands bc of some offhanded comment a douchebag made abt her braces in middle school. he’s never not noticed the way his father’s hardened demeanor softens when he asks about his mother, or when the old man looks at the picture of a baby asher and his mama that has always sat on the fireplace mantle in his childhood home. this observant nature naturally extended to you.

he knows you inside out- the way you’re trying to stop picking at your nails, how your knuckles tense when you catch yourself. he’s known that you twitch slightly in your sleep and that means you’re about to subconsciously move yourself closer to him in a self-soothing way (he won’t ever tell you that. he likes having that to himself). and with the natural progression of your relationship, he knows when you’re entering an episode.

the usual lighthearted scolding of leaving clothes on the floor is a tired pick up shirt please and the extra hour spent in bed on the weekend combined with either no bed making or half-assed bed making has him in care mode.

in its purest form, it is asher doing what he believes he was put on this earth. murmuring enthusiasm into your ear of i know your brain is making you tired, but you’ll feel better later if you take a bath now. and he’s bringing you soup in bed (yes it’s canned, yes he got scolded by david again and now there’s a giant container of it in the fridge) and he’s changing the bed sheets around you, like you did for him during his healing after the inversion. he’s crooning sweet, silly songs that his brain somehow knows how to make up. he’s washing your arms, kissing each part after it’s been cleaned and complimenting you you are worthy. you are wonderful. im not going anywhere. and it’s 4am holding you if you need to cry and he somehow manages to make you laugh through it all.

this is what he thinks he’s meant for. caring for the love of his life and fighting their invisible dragons. he’ll gladly slay any serpent that tries to hiss their way through their brain.

#tw: depressive episode #tw: anxiety #tw: skin picking #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted asher #redacted babe

[filmnoirfoundation]

ASK EDDIE returns Thursday, September 21, 7:00 PM PT to our Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/filmnoirfoundation/live

FNF prez Eddie Muller responds to film noir fan questions fielded by the Foundation's Director of Communications Anne Hockens. In this episode, we discuss Eddie’s short story “Doc’s Oscar”, the essential Italian noirs and film museums, the disreputable noir characters of wholesome TV icons, memorable bell tower scenes, and more. We wind up the show with a discussion of our favorite film noir openings. On the cat front, Charlotte and Emily are too tired to participate.

Want your question answered in a future episode? We solicit questions from our email subscribers in our monthly newsletters. Sign up for free at https://www.filmnoirfoundation.org/signup.html

Everyone who signs up on our email list and contributes $20 or more to the Film Noir Foundation receives the digital version of NOIR CITY Magazine for a year. Donate here: https://www.filmnoirfoundation.org/contribute.html

Can’t join us on Thursday? No problem! A recording will be up on our YouTube channel, @NoirCity, on Friday, September 22: https://www.youtube.com/user/NoirCitySF

Note: Eddie will not be able to answer questions posted during the livestream nor ones left on our social media accounts

This week's questions:

In a recent episode, Eddie highly recommended the film ROSAURA AT 10 O’CLOCK [ROSAURA A LA 10]. Is it possible for ROSAURA to be restored by the Foundation and made available through Flicker Alley?

Michael, Post Falls, Idaho

Just read your short story, "Doc's Oscar", in the JEWISH NOIR VOLUME 1. Can you give us a little background on its origin? When did you write it?

Jay and Connie, Ann Arbor, MI

I'm planning a trip to Italy.  Please recommend your essential Italian crime/noir films.  Also, I hope to visit a museum dedicated to cinema. Any ideas

Steve in Mississippi

Have you read “Somewhere in the Night: Film Noir and the American City” written by Nicholas Christopher? 

Sean Land O Lakes, FL

For me one of the biggest surprises of seeing familiar actors in Film Noir was seeing Raymond Burr as the heavy. What other later-known actors are the biggest surprises for someone getting into Film Noir.

Carlton, Atlanta, GA

Why does Eddie sometimes use the alias "Eddy von Mueller" for some of his Blu-Ray commentary tracks?

David

The late-'60s and the '70's are thought of as the time of the great neo-noir films, but what about offerings designed to play at drive-in theaters or so-called grindhouses? I'm also curious about regional films or filmmakers since that era was rich with localized film production. Are you aware of any that could fall under the mantle of film noir?

Kathy and Michael, Rockford, Illinois

In the past Eddie has mentioned certain movies that he considers to be more “message pictures” than full blown noir for him. I would love to hear you both talk about what the difference for you is between movies like NO WAY OUT, CROSSFIRE, FORCE OF EVIL etc. and movies that have tinges of Noir but fall into the Message Picture category and maybe some examples of those and why they don’t make the cut. Thanks!

Nathanael from New Braunfels, Texas

I recently watched the Douglas Sirk 1951 film noir, THUNDER ON THE HILL, and noted the similarities between the bell tower scene in that movie with the great bell tower scene in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1958 VERTIGO.  Are there other films noir that include a bell tower scene?  And, more generally, what other films noir have great staircase scenes? 

Cliff in Fort Collins

Wondering if you know anything about scenes cut from THE MAN I LOVE DVD. The film is listed as being 96 minutes long, but the DVD version is only 90 minutes.

Michael, Chicago, IL

My question is about some very difficult to find Alan Ladd titles, specifically, CHICAGO DEADLINE with Donna Reed and SAIGON. Are these Alan Ladd films tied up in litigation or bound in some type of financial dispute? Is there any hope for their release in the US?  

Don

Openings.  I have always been fascinated by the first 90 seconds of noir films and I’d just like to pay tribute to my favorite openings and listen as you add in yours as well.

Chuck

#film noir #noir city #eddie muller #anne hockens #film noir foundation #jewish noir #raymond burr #william conrad #grindhouse films #odds against tomorrow #the stranger #i the jury #criss cross #crossfire #doc's oscar #noir city detroit #noir city dc

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk

Santa Baby

Series Masterlist

A/N: You may thank @callsign-denmark for this piece, her and her dirty mind *she says lovingly* are the idea behind this 😘

Warnings: Santa, swearing, role playing, smut - oral and unprotected sex, cream pies (obvi😉) and a Santa kink. Also, not really edited so ignore the grammar

Word Count: 3800

As a kid you loved the holidays. Being half Jewish half-Christian, it was important for your parents to combine both Jewish and Christian traditions, your mom and dad’s lives into one. No tradition or belief overpowering the other. A perfect balance,

Then they passed away.  

The holidays would be hard on anybody under those circumstances but add in your grandparents didn’t value your moms’ Christian beliefs and effectively banned Christmas from your house, it always felt like something was missing. A part of you was missing. 

It wasn’t until you were in college and on your own did you have the opportunity to choose how to spend the holidays. You embraced everything you had been suppressing, you went Christmas. Big tree in the living room, lights in the window, Santa sculptures, snowmen and nutcracker in your bedroom and on every surface. You leaned into Christmas and in the process stepped out of Hanukah and your Jewish heritage. That again felt wrong.  

It took some time, but eventually you realized it felt wrong because it is wrong. Your parents blended the two, not just red and green but also blue. A Christmas tree in the corner but a menorah in the window. The stars of David were intermixed with the other décor, a few even hanging from the branches of the tree. Your parents found a way to embrace both of them and you should be doing the same. For years you found a way to blend the two and celebrate every part of you. 

Then came Fred. Christmas is his favourite holiday. Every year there was a tree he’d put up in the window, decorations on the counter and mantle, even an ugly sweater or two tucked in the closet.   

That first year when Oliver was barely a month old and all of your belongings were packed away in Toronto, you worried the apartment would feel like something was missing again. You had barely unpacked when you dragged Fred to a tree farm, you made cookies, you rummaged through his boxes and set the pillows by the door and reindeer on the side tables. You were the one leading the charge, and if you hadn’t told Fred you were part Jewish he likely would have had no idea. 

That’s why you were surprised to walk out of the bedroom one night and see a Menorah.  

You didn’t realize it then, but Fred’s love language is acts of kindness, and that small act should have been the first indicator to just how much he loved you.  

Four kids later and you have more than just a Menorah. Like your parents before, you and Fred found that perfect blend that works for your family. Some days are just about Christmas and others center around Hanukah. Today is Christmas. 

It's been two hours in line at the mall for a picture with Santa. Two hours in a slow-moving line with dozens screaming kids, some laughter and absolute chaos.

You’ve been tired, excessively tired for days now. A flu erupted in Oliver’s class, which he brought home and has slowly trickled through your family, one person at a time, most recently landing on you. That’s why with his one day off, Fred turned the baby monitors off early and wrangled the cranky boys and a barely recovered Elise from bed and let you sleep. When you woke up at almost nine there were countless dirty dishes in the sink, toys blanketing the floor and four wild children enthusiastically ambushing you the second you walked into the room.

Fred is always willing to do anything and everything for you, even if that means getting to the mall three hours later than intended solely to let you sleep. As much as you appreciate the sleep, the delay has led to a longer wait than either of you accounted for and children who are increasingly becoming more impatient.

Oliver has asked ‘how much longer’ seven times in the last twenty minutes. You were hot and clammy and took your coat off, then became cold and tired and tried to lean on Fred only for Elise to whine because you were too close to “her daddy,” – basically her newest thing to prevent Fred from showing attention to anyone but her. The twins both had meltdowns – separately of course – and after Noah’s most recent episode full of tears, screams and whining Fred and the three youngest left you in line to wander around the mall. Hopeful a change of scenery would help calm them down.

“Hey,” Fred pops up beside you, holding Elise and Noah on his hips, Lucas with his little hand tangled into a belt loop.

“Mommy,” Noah sniffles.

His usual smile and big cheeks replaced with a redness in the eyes and dried tears in the corner. Fred places a gentle kiss on his temple and passes him over to you, Noah’s head falling directly to your shoulder. 

“Hi baby,” you soothe, letting one hand rub over his back. “You want a snack?” Feeling a faint nod and an incoherent mumble you reach into the bag you packed with snacks and pull out a strawberry fruit squeeze and snap off the cap and hand one to every child.

Fred smirks slightly. He long ago knew you were prepared for just about everything, but it never ceases to amaze him how you know what to do and when to do it.

“How are you doing babe?” He gently sweeps some of your hair off to the side with a simple smile on his lips. 

“I’m okay,” you sigh as his thumb soothes over your jaw  It always surprises you how at ease Fred can make you feel. On days like today when nothing seems to be going right and you can’t find a second to yourself, the simplest action by Fred can instantly flip a switch within you. “Ready to be home, with some tea and a warm blanket.” 

“You love your blankets,” Fred smirks. The light catches his brown eye, and it swells as he leans in for a soft kiss but is interrupted by a whine coming from your impatient daughter. 

“It’s almost your turn Elise,” Fred turns to her, using a peppy voice. “Two more kid than you guys get to see Santa.” 

“Santa,” she perks slightly, and glances over to the man in red.

“Santa,” Noah points to him with his fist tightly clenching his fruit squeeze.

“Yeah,” you bounce him, eliciting a small grin. “You’re soon.” 

“Santa.” He repeats, the glimmer of hope returning to his eyes.

The next few minutes flew by. Once the kids found out they were next in line, their frustration over the situation was diminished and excitement returned. Smiles returned to their faces, every fifth word was Santa, and Lucas practically launched himself out of Fred’s arms to get there sooner.

“And have you been a good boy, Noah?” Santa asks.  

“Yes!” All four kids’ voices overlap.

Oliver stands off to the side, leaning tight to him while Elise and the twins are all crammed in on his lap, fighting for space. Your youngest still completely captivated by him, has two fingers entangled with his beard. A real beard not one of those fake ones held on by an elastic band.

“We’ve all been good!” Lucas tells him.

“Yes,” the man in red lets out a loud laugh. “I do believe so. Now what would you like for Christmas?” 

Standing off to the side, Fred wraps an arm around your shoulder and his lips linger near your ear. Finally getting the opportunity to show some affection to you as Elise is distracted.

“That smile makes it all worth it.” 

“Yeah,” you shudder at his touch. You feel a tingle deep down inside. The electricity erupting in your core is nothing new, but it being caused by something other than your husband is.

“Sure you’re okay?” Fred cranes his head to look at you, a quizzical arch on his eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” you involuntarily clench, a heavy lump caught in your throat. 

“Mommy!” Elise comes sprinting over to you. “Mommy I got a candy cane.” 

“A candy cane?”

Her coming to you is a rare occurrence when Fred is around, and you eagerly peel yourself from his embrace and welcome the enthusiastic ball of energy to your arms.

“Mhm, can I have it now?” 

“Of course.”

Putting Elise on your hip, you tug on the plastic wrapper and open the treat for her. As the three boys take off like a rocket towards you. The twins have a light in their eye and their lower lip pulled between their teeth, the indication two tiny tornados are about to hurl themselves in your direction. Fred bends down and within a second two tiny bodies are throwing their arms around his neck and bodies against his chest.

“Daddy!”

“Daddy!”

Like always, their two voices overlap.

“Yes,” he chuckles and stands up, adjusting them to be properly on his hip.

“We saw Santa!” Noah exclaims.

“Yeah? What did you tell him you want?”

“I want a dinosaur.”

“I want a dinosaur too!” Lucas adds in.

Fred turns to you with a large smile on his face. The answer was known before he even asked.

Your spare hand links into Olivers and the six of you make your way through the mall towards the food court. The kids are in a good mood, there is no way you’re risking that by waiting for lunch.

Fred can tell there is something on your mind. As you split the fries between your children and pull the pickle off Noah’s cheeseburger and put it on Lucas’s you might as well have screamed it aloud. Lucas hates pickles and Noah loves them. And when Oliver tells you about his class holiday party and the treat he signed up to bring, you barely even acknowledge him.

**

“You sure you’re okay?” 

Back in your car with all the kids busying themselves, overlapping chatter about Santa, Christmas, Fred’s hockey game tomorrow you promised to take them to, you and Fred finally have a moment to talk. That is until one of them looks at another the wrong way and a full-out war erupts in the backseat.

“I know the holidays can be tough on you,” his hand slips perfectly into yours and he reassuringly squeezes. “All the people you wish could be here.” 

“Wasn’t even thinking of them,” you quietly admit. 

“Oh, well I feel like a jackass now,” he laughs to himself. “I just assumed; you’ve been in your head a bit today.” 

“Hmm,” you shrug, eyes trained ahead. 

“Min skat,” Fred squeezes your hand firmer, drawing your attention. “Talk to me.” 

There is a moment when your eyes flick across his face, contemplation and weighing of the consequences burning bright inside. Fred has long been the person you turn to, the person that makes everything better, it shouldn’t be this hard. 

“Please elskede. Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

The desperation in his words breaks your walls. He is genuinely worried over something that needn’t bring it, but the words are not easy. 

“It’s nothing bad or worrisome, I promise,” a slight smirk hits your lips.  Leaning over you press the volume button up a few times until much of the backseat chatter is drowned by Christmas music.

“Then why can’t you tell me?” His eyes dart over the console to you as the vehicle stops at a red light. 

“It was just…have you ever…I was thinking…”

“Elskede, you can tell me anything.” 

Fred quiets your ramble only to draw an outburst. “Would you ever dress like Santa?” 

The peculiar look only contorts further as he tries to understand your question. “Like on Christmas Eve or something for the kids?”

“No, I mean I guess you could then too,” you trail off and eyes drop to the floor as the rising heat under your skin becomes too much. 

“I don’t understand,” he gently massages the pad of his thumb into back of your hand. “If I’m not wearing it for the kids, who am I…” Fred is the one to trail off when you cutely smirk, letting him connect the dots on his own. “Oh.” 

Not the response you were hoping for. 

You and Fred have a fairly active sex life and are constantly communicating, what works and what doesn’t, it’s part of what makes it so great. There isn’t a lot you haven’t tried, mostly positions that look like are designed for yoga instructors, threesomes, that was something you long ago agreed was off the table and role-playing. Which is shocking because you have no problem dressing in sexy lingerie and he has no issue with the dirty talk. But if role-playing is a no for Fred, you would accept his boundary and not push it.  

“Your dad didn’t dress like Santa?”  

“My dad’s Jewish,” you chuckle. “He celebrated Christmas with my mom and I but dressing as Santa was a little too much for him.”  

“Right,” Fred nods, still processing your admission.  

“You don’t have to do it,” you laugh again.  

“Santa though? He’s old and fat.”  

“He is kind and selfless, giving toys to all the boys and girls,” you counter. 

“He has an army of slaves, probably whips them up at the north pole to get the toys done in time.” 

“If you want I’ll dress like an elf and you can whip me,” you wink.  

“I-“ Fred goes to speak but stops and his golden-brown eyes begin to flicker, almost as if he is considering the offer. It doesn’t shock you, you being bratty always turned him on. “Santa though?” he repeats. “He’s old and has grey hair.”  

“Maybe I want a glimpse of what you’ll look like as old and grey,” you lean over and place a kiss to his cheek. “Prepare myself for the future.”  

** 

In the days that passed, neither of you brought it up. Most days you’re trying to wrangle your children that never seemed to have an off switch, trying to give Elise a bath while the twins wrestle in the living room and Oliver complains because his brothers are encroaching his space.

Fred was in and out of the house with road games and team events, but he did what he could to help. Whether ordering you dinner or sending flowers when he couldn’t be there, soft kisses in your hairline and lingering touches to the small of your back. He always was your rock even when you didn’t know you needed him to be.

You assumed Fred was either considering the idea or wasn’t on board, either way you weren’t going to bring it up and pressure him further. He’d talk when ready. That’s why late one night when the kids are finally asleep and the living room was an absolute disaster you were a bit surprised to find Fred in a bright red suit, bells and all.

“Santa,” you muse, rounding the corner. “Christmas isn’t for five days.” 

“I had to make an early visit,” Fred strokes his beard, struggling to keep a firm face. 

The red velvet pops against his fair skin, and while clothes are normally tight on him, muscles and curves being carved out like stone, in many places he is smaller than the man who typically wears it – the stomach especially being loose. And while you are impartial to the tight attire, something about the bright red colour and floppy hat does something to you. 

“Oh,” you play coy. Slowly meandering your way around the island, the palm of your hand drags across the counter. “And why’s that?” 

“Why you’re on the naughty list,” he replicates a deep voice, similar to that of a Christmas Santa. 

“Can’t have that,” you stop a few inches from him and peer up at him through beady lashes, a dampness pooling in your core. 

“Well not if you want presents.”  He tries to keep his composure but you can hear the shake that follows a deep breath.

“I think you have a very special present for me.” You grin when his cheeks flare up brighter than his suit. “A very large present.” 

“Only good girls get presents,” Fred bites at his lower lip. 

“So, tell me Santa, what can I do to get off the naughty list?” You bat your eyelashes sweetly, massaging his growing cock over the red velvet pants.  

Fred’s lips are hot on your neck, the white Santa beard dropping between the cut of your shirt – tickling both of your breasts. His body cages you, slowly walking you backward until the stone of the counter juts into your back. Even as you loudly gasp your hand doesn’t waver, stroking and massaging him further until you feel his fully hardened member pressing back at you. 

“Turn around,” Fred growls. 

Doing as your told you spin around and within a second you feel the white fluff at the end of his sleeves roughly rubbing along your hips as he presses your leggings down until they bunch below your knees. White knuckling the counter to prepare yourself for his entrance, you are surprised when his damp lips kiss your heat. As shock quickly erupts into pleasure, you squeal as he forcefully grips your thighs and spreads you apart, your glistening pussy on display for him. 

After a few kitten licks, just enough to let you know what’s coming, his nails anchor into your warm skin. He pins your writhing body in place and slips his tongue in deep, letting his nose nudge between your cheeks. He always felt good, knowing exactly what to do and when to do it, but this angle coupled the pressure is all very new, but quickly has you rendered incapacitated. 

If it wasn’t for Fred’s hands holding you up you’d surely fall over. His virtuoso tongue has you bent roughly over the counter, moaning louder and louder as his nose furthers itself in, nudging the rim of your hole. Every part of you is hot, brimming with need. 

It doesn’t take long. His lips sucking at your pussy lips, stroking you closer and closer until it’s inevitable. Your husbands tongue moves perfectly against your engorged pussy, throwing you over a cliff and into heaven.

There is a low groan from below as your warm release coats his tongue, fingers anchoring in, inevitably leaving marks. Your body spasms and clenches above him, his face wearing you like a hat. 

Before you have taken a breath, Fred is on his feet, whipping you around. The white that would normally coat his auburn beard is lost in the stringy Santa beard dangling from his chin, but the dark, blackened ring around his eyes is undeniable. 

“Mrs. Claus is one very lucky lady,” you breathe out as he adjusts the beard to the correct position. 

“Mrs. Claus is on the nice list.” 

He begins tugging at the jacket buttons, slowly revealing his hard bare chest underneath. When the final button is released he begins to shake the oversized jacket off when you quickly grab the white faux fur that lines it. 

“Jacket stays on,” you tell him. 

“Don’t think naughty girls are in a place for demands,” he states bluntly but leaves the jacket on. 

His tone shuts you up, but not for long, two of his fingers dip down and enter you. His other hand grabs at yours and directs them to his leather belt, and you fumble to release it. But the second you do and the fabric drops below his swollen cock you are on the counter. 

You hold your breath as he enters you. Even though he has never been able to keep his dick out of you, you never grew accustomed to the stretch that came with him. Most nights Fred gives you a second to adjust, tonight is not one of those nights. 

The second he is buried to the hilt your legs wrap around his hips, the soft velvet a welcome contrast to rough calloused hands pulling you back onto his girth. Fred is hungry, hitting the spot that drives you wild, and hitting it hard. 

“Such a naughty girl,” his previously cheerful Santa voice replaced with heavy gravel. 

Under the loose fabric of your tee, your breasts bounce with every thrust. Your hand reaches out and grabs at the white wig, dragging him closer until there is nothing left between your bodies. You separate for a second and release a breathy gasp when one of his hands snakes between you, finding your clit and pressing rhythmic circle.

As amazing as that is you need him, his lips. You quickly tug against his wig and he takes the hint, bringing you in for a searing kiss, kissing so hard you can’t breathe. 

With his cock sliding in and out, you writhe against him, gasping and moaning with every thrust. You can feel your impending orgasm creeping up on you, the knot in your stomach tightening with every stroke of your g-spot. 

“Santa,” you mewl desperately. 

“Hmm,” he doesn’t let up.

“Santa…I’m…I’m…” words are dying on your lips and stars are flooding your vision until it’s mostly black. 

“You gonna cum?” He patronizingly grunts, shunting you further onto the counter with a powerful thrust. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” 

“Yeee…eess,” you squeal, the sensation only growing. 

It only takes a few more thrusts of his perfectly placed cock against your g-spot for you to come undone. Something splinters. The pent-up coil in your stomach springs apart along with your grip on reality. Hot release drips around his cock that continues to drive inside you. 

“Gonna be a good girl and milk my cock?” He hums when you manage a faint nod. “Such a good girl,” Fred’s harmonious tongue is hot on your neck, millimeters from your earlobe. He is becoming sporadic, stuttering and grunting while he struggles to keep it together. “Good girls take it all, every fucking drop.” 

“I want your cum Santa.” He breaks character for a second and you feel his lips curl upward against you. 

With a deep howl, he quickly responds and spills hot and wet inside your cunt. Following a few shallow thrusts Fred stops and pulls away. The hat on his head is barely there, a few more thrusts and it would have fallen off. The beard is no longer in place, dangling loosely around his neck and a mixture of sticky white contrasting the red pants. 

“So,” you lean back on your palms, bliss painted on your face. “Am I on the nice list yet?” 

Fred chuckles, a large smile pressed on his face. “It was certainly a start, but you still have some work to do.” 

“Well,” you reach up and tug on his hat, putting it back in place. “Why don’t you come upstairs, and we’ll see if I can change that.” 

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series, either through likes/reblogs or by asking. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@mandypants95 @c-tangerinene @puccbunni @hockeyinaussie @hockeypuckspost @0kikina0 @sixmapleleafs @hockeyunitsyunits @localcalumhoe @starswin  @je-ne-regrette-rien @mollybirk @daniellepulice72

#frederik andersen #frederik andersen fic #freddie andersen fic #freddie andersen #fred andersen #fred andersen fic #freddie andersen x reader #frederik andersen x reader #fred andersen x reader #toronto maple leafs fic #hockey fic #nhl fic #because two people got drunk #because two people got drunk fic #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes fic #bonus chapter #freddie andersen smut #fred andersen smut #nhl smut #hockey smut #carolina hurricanes smut #frederik andersen smut

[widowshill]

L for any Roger Davis character lmao.

A -> Z FANDOM ASKS.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

I actually think Charles Delaware Tate was a super interesting character, at least in the way they set up the narrative –– a late Victorian artist catapulted to fame on a faustian bargain, painting an ideal Galatea over and over, stunned to find her made real and then devastated to lose her. if he was a lou character i probably would have adored him! he also had one of the more unique (to my mind) supernatural abilities on the show, in painting things (or people) to have them appear barbie!rapunzel style, and I also love, loved his whole haunted mansion schtick in his old age with talking through the speakers, the false mannequin body etc. that was high camp and i loved every moment of the theatrical drama of it.

there's a lot of ... portraiture and the act of painting itself intersecting with the Collins legacy throughout the show, even way in the beginning long before any supernatural pictures show up ( i.e. the ancestors looking down on Roger in the drawing room, Victoria finding Betty's portrait and almost finding a link to her own past and legacy, David drawing Bill's murderer hanging, Burke having Sam paint his portrait to hang on the mantle when he owns Collinwood someday –– putting Tate in the Evans cottage set was a nice link to Sam, also). but obviously a lot of the bigger spooky plots are symbolized in their portraits – Barnabas gaining both acceptance and suspicion through his resemblance to his "ancestor," Laura's and Angelique's serving as warning, Josette's an eternal idealized yearning and haunting. so it was a nice moment to see Quentin's portrait actively come about ––  the Collins ancestor very literally preserved in an image ad infinitum – and to see the artist as executing power through their creation and control of that image, even to smother it into nature (with the overpainting) and thus into obscurity until he's resurrected back into the collins family mythos in 1969.

I also liked his artist frock a lot ! that was cute.

#turns out i had more to say than I thought ! #like ... the execution leaves a lot to be desired obviously lmao but there's. really something there to me. #honorhearted #➤ answered. ┊ collinsport 4099. #➤ meme responses. ┊ boo ! #➤ ooc. ┊ she’s nauseous，she’s hysterical，and she’s exhausted.

[popentertainment-moviereviews]

INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY (2023)

Starring Harrison Ford, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Antonio Banderas, John Rhys-Davies, Karen Allen, Toby Jones, Boyd Holbrook, Ethann Isidore, Mads Mikkelsen, Shaunette Renée Wilson, Thomas Kretschmann, Olivier Richters, Mark Killeen, Martin McDougall, Alaa Safi, Francis Chapman, Alfonso Rosario Mandia, Chase Brown, Nasser Memarzia and Anna Francolini.

Screenplay by Jez Butterworth & John-Henry Butterworth and David Koepp and James Mangold.

Directed by James Mangold.

Distributed by Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. 154 minutes. Rated PG-13.

“It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage.”

A badly beaten-up Indiana Jones said that line to his love Marian Ravenwood on a steamer ship trying to escape the Nazis in the classic film Raiders of the Lost Ark, the first (and still by far the best) of the Indiana Jones adventures. Well, it’s been 42 years, four films and countless miles since then, and now for Indiana Jones it’s both the years and the mileage. After all Harrison Ford is 80 years old now. Can he still wear the fedora and the bullwhip and the mantle of action hero?

Particularly in the first film of the series which was not helmed by Steven Spielberg? (Spielberg and co-creator George Lucas are still on board as Executive Producers but had little to do with the actual filming of Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny.)

The answer to that question is – sort of. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is another one of the marginally good Indy sequels, holding a certain fun nostalgia before completely losing the plot with a ridiculous ending.

Dial of Destiny alternately feels like it’s trying too hard and yet not hard enough. It has a fascinating subtext – Indiana Jones reaching retirement age – that it touches upon but does not really explore in any depth. (Other than occasional jokes about aching bones, Indy still seems to be pretty functional as a superhero character.)

So, if you’re just going to glancingly look at the mortality of the character, is there any reason to bring him back 15 years after the last unsuccessful reboot Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull? (Shia LeBeouf’s character from that film, Indy’s son who was teased as a new series hero before that film was a bit of a misfire – is explained away in this film pretty conclusively.)

Maybe not, but Harrison Ford still has a certain craggy charm in the character, and it’s always good to see him. And if Dial of Destiny is trying too hard – way too hard, honestly – to unsuccessfully recreate the magic of the first Raiders film, it still has enough fun (if slightly overcooked) action sequences and enough of a nostalgic rush to make it mostly worth seeing.

Not that you haven’t mostly seen it all before.

Now, this is not really Dial of Destiny’s fault, and yet it does show some of the lack of imagination going on here. By sheer coincidence, the night before I saw Dial of Destiny, I saw an advance screening of Mission: Impossible Dead Reckoning Part One and it turns out that three of the action sequences in Dial of Destiny were dead ringers for action sequences done in Dead Reckoning. For the record, these were a knife fight on top of a train, a car chase which includes both cars driving down long city staircases and another car chase in which the hero is stuck driving a beat-up older Citroen. And honestly, the sequences were managed better in Mission: Impossible.

Now, granted, none of those set pieces are all that unique in action films (although the specific quirk of both using a vintage Citroen as the car for a chase scene is kind of surprising), but is that ubiquity really a selling point for the movie?

Dial of Destiny mostly takes place in the late 1960s – with some flashbacks to WWII with Ford de-aged by CGI to play his younger self. (In general, the de-aging process is not quite as disorienting and unrealistic as it has been in previous attempts, but you can still see the CGI periodically, particularly in the action sequences.)

Also, unlike the previous films, the artifact which is being searched for is not a religious artifact, it is a scientific one – a mysterious dial created by ancient mathematician Archimedes which may be able to facilitate time travel.

Indy and his old ally Basil Shaw (Toby Jones) first ran across half of the dial (Archimedes apparently disassembled the device, realizing it was too dangerous for humanity) during WWII. Shaw spent the rest of his life obsessively searching for the other half.

Years later, long after Shaw’s death and Indy’s moving on, Shaw’s daughter Helena (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) tracks down Indy in search of the dial. Indy agrees to help her for his friend’s sake, but it turns out that Helena is much more duplicitous than Indy imagined, and soon there are Nazis and government officials hot on their trail as they try to track down the artifact.

Thus begins the globe-trotting adventure which imitates and even ramps up the constant motion of the original without quite recapturing the magic. Also, is it my imagination, or is Indy a bit more gratuitously violent in this film? In Raiders he was resigned to violence only as a last resort…

Original film cast members Jonathan Rhys-Davies and Karen Allen (as Sallah and Marion) show up for brief, nostalgic cameos, although neither is given all that much to do. Still, it’s great to see them. And Allen does get a nice opportunity to do a rueful echo of the classic Raiders scene quoted at the top of this review.

There is no real reason for Dial of Destiny to exist, but for the most part it was fun to see Indiana Jones one last time.

Jay S. Jacobs

Copyright ©2023 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: June 30, 2023.

#Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny #2023 #Movie Reviews #Harrison Ford #Jay S. Jacobs

[justforbooks]

Although she was born in London, and retained a classic English poise all her life, Angela Lansbury, who has died aged 96, was a Hollywood and Broadway star for more than seven decades, and one who was completely unclassifiable. On her film debut, she played Ingrid Bergman’s cockney maid in George Cukor’s Gaslight (1944) and was promptly nominated for an Oscar, though she was never to win one. She graduated to play Laurence Harvey’s evil, possibly incestuous, mother – although she was only three years older than Harvey – in John Frankenheimer’s The Manchurian Candidate (1962), and then a dotty amateur witch in Disney’s follow-up to Mary Poppins, Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971).

This versatility, allied to her natural grace, vitality and chastely appealing features – her eyes were full, blue and unblinking, her face almost perfectly round, her mouth a cupid’s bow from the studio era – propelled her to stage stardom in Jerry Herman’s Mame (1966) and, in London at the Piccadilly theatre in 1973, as the show-stopping Mama Rose in Gypsy, by Jule Styne, Stephen Sondheim and Arthur Laurents.

Lansbury had been initially reluctant to assume Ethel Merman’s mantle in Gypsy but, like Merman, she gave the performance of her life, full of steel and tenderness in equal measure. Her performance was more nuanced and needy than Merman’s; the critic Robert Cushman described “a slow steady build towards magnificence”.

But she became best known worldwide for Murder, She Wrote, an American television series running from 1984 to 1996, with four subsequent TV films. She played the incisive and level-headed Jessica Fletcher, a retired English teacher, mystery writer and amateur sleuth in the coastal town of Cabot Cove, Maine, a sleepy location with a criminal body count as delightfully high and unlikely as in Midsomer Murders.

“It really was a fluke success,” Lansbury said, “and came at a time when that kind of family entertainment seemed needed.” She added that, of all the characters she played, Fletcher was the one most like herself: intuitive and sensitive, a voice of calm and reason in a troubled time. She gradually assumed ownership of the CBS series. Peter Shaw, whom she had married in 1949, was joint director of the production company; her son, Anthony, and stepson, David, were executive producers, her brother Bruce was supervising producer.

Family was always of paramount importance to Lansbury. She came from strong, muscular stock: her father, Edgar Lansbury, was a lumber merchant and one-time member of the Communist party and mayor of Poplar (his father was George Lansbury, a reforming leader of the Labour party); her mother, Moyna MacGill, was an Irish actor who took Angela to the Old Vic theatre in London from an early age. One of her cousins was Oliver Postgate, the British animator best known for Bagpuss.

She was educated at South Hampstead high school for girls and trained at the Webber Douglas Academy of Dramatic Art. Her father died in 1934, and her mother merged her family – Angela and her younger twin brothers, Edgar and Bruce – with that of a former British Army colonel in India, Lecki Forbes, under one roof in Hampstead.

It was not a happy arrangement.

At the outbreak of war, Moyna decamped with her children to New York, and Angela continued her training for two more years at the Feagin school. While her mother toured Canada in a variety show for the troops, Angela did cabaret turns in Montreal. When Moyna’s agent sent her to Hollywood for an audition, she decided to move the children out there with her.

Nothing much happened at first, so mother and daughter took jobs as sales clerks at Bullocks Wilshire, the art deco department store in Los Angeles, while continuing to audition. Angela was still only 17 when she landed the role in Gaslight, and this set a pattern of playing older than her age. A notable exception was The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945), in which she played Sibyl Vane, the chirpy music-hall singer, a role that brought her second Oscar nomination; through her co-star, Hurd Hatfield, she met her future husband, Shaw. She had been married previously, for just nine months, to the actor Richard Cromwell, who was almost twice her age.

By this point a Hollywood fixture, Lansbury played Elizabeth Taylor’s older sister in National Velvet (1944), sang Jerome Kern’s How’d You Like to Spoon With Me? in Till the Clouds Roll By (1946), fooled with Danny Kaye in The Court Jester (1955), peaked in glory in The Manchurian Candidate, with her third and final Oscar nomination, and joined another great cast list in The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), which David Lean took over as director from George Stevens.

Lansbury took American citizenship in 1951, and made her Broadway debut opposite Bert Lahr in Feydeau’s Hotel Paradiso in 1957, following with Helen in Shelagh Delaney’s A Taste of Honey in 1960 and, most significantly, Cora Hooper Hoover, the corrupt mayor in Sondheim and Laurents’s 1964 flop Anyone Can Whistle. The show, which has since become a concert favourite, closed in a week, but Lansbury came out of it with flying colours, commended by critics for her agility and engaging personality; she was even likened to a young Bette Davis.

This led to her Mame acclaim, and her first Tony award. Lansbury played Auntie Mame, a free-spirited woman who picks herself off the floor of the stock market crash to sing Bosom Buddies (Lansbury duetted with Bea Arthur) and who ultimately recoups her fortunes by marrying a southern aristocrat. She won a second Tony in Herman’s next show, Dear World (1969), a musical based on Jean Giraudoux’s The Madwoman of Chaillot, in which she appeared to be dressed in “a wedding cake made of cobwebs”, according to the critic Walter Kerr.

A belated London debut followed in 1972, when she joined the Royal Shakespeare Company at the Aldwych in Edward Albee’s All Over, playing the mistress of a dying man, locked in battle with Peggy Ashcroft as his wife. She took Gypsy back to Broadway in 1974 for a few months, winning her third Tony, then joined the National theatre at the Old Vic in 1975 to play a fairly youthful, glamorous Gertrude to Albert Finney’s thickset, plainspoken and powerful Hamlet, directed by Peter Hall; the production was part of the opening season in the National’s new home on the South Bank in 1976.

Back on Broadway, she hit another great milestone in Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler’s Sweeney Todd (1979), playing the gleefully cannibalistic, pie-making Nellie Lovett (and winning a fourth Tony) opposite Len Cariou’s demon barber in a dark and scintillating production by Hal Prince that played on Broadway for a year before touring the US for another 11 months.

Before Murder, She Wrote, a series of starry film roles included John Guillermin’s Death on the Nile (1978) with Peter Ustinov, David Niven, Bette Davis, Mia Farrow and Maggie Smith; Guy Hamilton’s The Mirror Crack’d (1980), in which she did some sleuthing stretches by playing Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple, with Elizabeth Taylor, Kim Novak, Tony Curtis and, in his penultimate movie, Rock Hudson; Wilford Leach’s rocked-up The Pirates of Penzance (1983), opposite Kevin Kline as the Pirate King; and Neil Jordan’s wonderfully weird The Company of Wolves (1984), in which she played yet another eccentric old granny figure.

She did voices for two animated movies – Beauty and the Beast (1991, for Disney) and Anastasia (1997, for 20th Century Fox) – but was not in a feature movie again until she played Great Aunt Adelaide in Kirk Jones’s Nanny McPhee (2005), starring and written by Emma Thompson. Subsequently, she was with Jim Carrey in Mr Popper’s Penguins (2011).

For many years, Lansbury kept a home in County Cork, Ireland, where she and Shaw would spend two months each year while maintaining their base in Brentwood, Los Angeles. She rented an apartment in New York in 2007 to return to Broadway in Terrence McNally’s Deuce, a specially crafted two-hander for her and Marian Seldes about former tennis partners reliving past glories while watching a match at Flushing Meadow, and switching their heads from side to side during the rallies.

The play was not a huge hit, but Lansbury was electrifying and was greatly moved by the affection with which audiences greeted her. She had not been on Broadway since a possibly ill-advised 1983 revival of Mame.

Regarded by now as a national treasure, in 2009 she won her fifth Tony as Madame Arcati in Noël Coward’s Blithe Spirit, wearing a bright red wig and “with a superfluity of bad jewellery, the gait of a gazelle and a repertory of poses that bring to mind Egyptian hieroglyphs”, wrote Ben Brantley of the New York Times.

At the end of the same year in New York, she appeared for six months as Madame Armfeldt in Trevor Nunn’s Menier Chocolate Factory revival of Sondheim and Wheeler’s A Little Night Music, winning plaudits for her nostalgic litany of fading qualities in Liaisons: “Where is style? Where is skill? Where is forethought? Where’s discretion of the heart? Where’s passion in the art? Where’s craft?”

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences compensated for her lack of an Oscar with an award for “some of cinema’s most memorable characters” in 2013, and the following year she was made a dame, and took Madame Arcati to the Gielgud theatre in London. She was Aunt March in the BBC’s adaptation of Little Women (2017), and in 2018 she both appeared as a balloon-seller in Mary Poppins Returns, and joined up with another member of that cast, Dick Van Dyke, as guardian angels in the Christmas tale Buttons.

Shaw predeceased her in 2003, and she is survived by Anthony, David, her daughter, Deirdre, three grandchildren, five great-grandchildren and her brother Edgar.

🔔 Angela Brigid Lansbury, actor, born 16 October 1925; died 11 October 2022

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Angela Lansbury #in memoriam

[anticomedygarden]

England's got a new queen! part 2

part one | ao3 link

-

When Alex wakes up, it is to an empty bed and the sounds of running water.

"Hen?" he calls, voice groggy. "What're you doin'?"

His gorgeous boyfriend walks out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth, dressed in a white t-shirt and black boxers. His bed head is off the charts - apparently, princes don't have to immediately make themselves up when they're on vacation. "Brushinteeth," he slurs around the toothbrush.

Alex's half asleep brain struggles to decide whatever the hell Henry just said. "Huh?"

Henry ducks back into the bathroom and spits. "Sorry. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

Alex nods. "What time is it?"

"7:30."

A snort springs from Alex's mouth. "God, we're so bad at this." Even David was still asleep in his travel doggy bed on the other side of the room.

Henry finishes in the bathroom and climbs over Alex to kneel at his side in bed. "It's not our fault we've never done this before."

His breath is minty fresh when Alex kisses him. "We really haven't done this before," he realizes.

They've gone on vacation before, but that's always short weekend trips with some kind of schedule, or it's to the lake house where they relax, sure, but also try to cram in as much fun as possible.

Alex thinks the last time he went on a chill vacation like this was when his parents were still together. He can't even imagine how long it's been for Henry.

"As long as we're both up," Henry starts, "what do you want to do today?"

Alex pushed himself up onto an elbow. "I figured we could hit the trails, get some fresh air." It is what they came out here to do, after all.

Plus, it might distract him from the weird feeling he still has.

Everything's fine.

Probably.

Henry kisses the corner of his mouth. "That sounds great, darling."

-

When June wakes, it is to the sound of someone aggressively banging at her door.

She groans and rubs her eyes. It is too damn early.

"Come on, I know you're awake," her best friend yells through her door. "Let me in."

Slowly, she swings her legs over the side of her bed and pushes herself to standing. As she opens the door, she realizes she actually has no idea what time it is.

Then, when she sees Nora standing in front of her with an open laptop, the previous day comes rushing back to her.

God. She needs to call Pez. She needs call Bea. Lord, she can't even imagine what Bea is going through right now.

She needs to know that her brother and his boyfriend are safe.

She needs to know what the hell is going on.

Is it too much to hope that Catherine will be taking up the mantle come next week?

That probably sounds horrible, she thinks, but June had long ago stopped feeling bad about wanting Queen Mary out of the picture. Beyond what she's done to her own family, there are millions of families across the world suffering from her policies while she sits under a crown of stolen jewels on a throne of genocide and imperialism.

Based on general principle, that technically means Catherine isn't much better, but at least Catherine doesn't still believe in the purity of the Crown. She already has ideas in place to minimize their involvement in foreign affairs and start flipping the Tory run government. It's only a matter of time until she gets to implement them.

She brings her attention back to Nora. "What do you want?"

Nora breezes into June's bedroom and plops herself down on the bed, gesturing for June to come sit next to her. She does.

"I've been up since five doing a deep dive into British news," Nora says, because of course she has. "Obviously, everybody is covering the Queen and all that, so that was a dead end. What I did find through the comments, though, were a lot of people who hate the Queen. Like, a fuckton. She is not as popular as she thinks she is." Nora does something on her laptop. "From there, I narrowed the list down to people who live in the area and could plausibly have access to the Queen and figured out which of those people have actively participated in hate online such as chat groups."

June just sits there, blinking at her. She hasn't even brushed her teeth yet. She is not ready to hear all this.

Nevertheless, she says, "And?"

Nora spins the laptop to face her. "I found dozens of people. Seriously, people hate her, but what did we expect, you know?" Nora shrugs.

"Then why did you come banging into my room at-" she glances at her phone "-eight in the morning?"

"I wanted a second opinion."

June does a double take. "Oh?"

"Do you have any ideas on how else I might this person who may or may not exist?"

June thinks for a moment. "You could find the ones with violent pasts?"

Nora shakes her head. "With the way she's dying, it wouldn't be violent."

June throws her hands up in the air. "I'm out. Ask me again in an hour."

With that, she walks into the bathroom to finally begin her morning.

-

Alex shuffles the map in his hands, attempting to figure out where the hell they are, and realizes he hasn't had to look at a map since grade school.

"Let me see," Henry says.

"Did they teach cartography in prince school?" Alex asks even as he eagerly trades the map for the dog leash.

"Yes, actually."

"Of course they did."

While Henry studies the map, Alex takes a minute to look around. They haven't actually left the grounds around their cabin yet, so the scenery is mostly just trees and some rocks with a small campfire setting about 15 feet from the cabin. The cabin itself is a quaint little building, made of wood and looking almost exactly like a cabin one would see in a movie. There's even a chimney.

Henry turns around and points to a spot on the map. "We're right here. We want to get right here." He points to a different spot, presumably the top of the mountain. "The path goes through here." He drags his finger around the middle of the map.

"How long is that?" Alex asks.

"About 3 miles, so six altogether."

That's not too bad. He's been on runs longer than that.

"Kay, Cash, we're gonna head out," he shouts over to the bodyguard who is relaxing in a folding chair, sunglasses obscuring half his face.

"Have fun."

Alex turns back to Henry, water and snacks in his backpack clinking, and they start walking through the trees. He takes note of the time, 9:17.

Thankfully, the air up here isn't too hot yet, and Alex breathes it in. It's nice and crisp.

"This is nice," Henry says. "Better than the city."

"Yeah, I can't even smell any urine out here," Alex notes.

"Right, I forgot, that's how the niceness of cities is ranked. By the strength of the urine smell."

"Maybe it should be."

They keep going, incline riding steadily. At some point, the have to stop for David to poop, and Alex notes another advantage of being this far away from civilization: they don't have to worry about cleaning up dog shit.

Eventually, the trees give way to the rocks they were promised when they booked the cabin, and the incline gets noticeably steeper.

"Shit," Henry gasps as a rock shifts under his foot.

Alex would agree if he could speak.

He vaguely hears the sound of a creek and wonders how bad it would be to jump in fully clothed and attempt to swim to the top of the mountain, because this whole thing has really just turned into a game of how hard can he clench his thighs, abs, and ass?

Finally, Alex manages to gasp out, "Wait, I think David needs a break."

The dog in question looks back at him with his tongue lolling out from where he is gracefully hopping up rocks like he was made for it.

"Right," Henry pants, stopping immediately. "He has - little legs." Then, he collapses on his back across the rocks, limbs askew, breathing hard. David trots over to him and wags his tail.

"I didn't think," Alex starts, "that it would be-this hard." He crouches down until his knees hit the ground, then clumsily lifts the water bottle out of his bag. They sit in silence for a bit as they drink, and he fills up David's little portable dog dish.

"How far have we gone?" Alex asks once his breathing stops sounding like an asthma attack. The air really is thin up here. If only his blood would regenerate faster.

Now would be a really bad time to find out one of them is a carrier of sickle cell disease.

There's a shuffling sound of paper moving. "About 2 miles, I think."

Alex groans and wipes the sweat off his forehead. "There's still a whole nother mile of this?"

"Mhm."

"Ugh." He rises to his feet unsteadily. "Let's get going, then."

They slowly but surely start making their way up the mountain again, crossing rocks, a small stream, and even more rocks. At some point, Alex thinks he sees the top, but it turns out to be a small crest.

He checks his watch. 11:05. They've been at it for nearly two hours.

His three mile runs don't even take an hour. How is this possible?

"Doesn't Oscar do this sort of thing all the time?" Henry asks. His left is right against his side.

"I don't think the skill is genetic, babe." He really hopes Henry is done asking questions because he doesn't think he can keep answering.

"I was wondering if he gave you any tips on hiking in the mountains before you left."

"No," Alex gasps. "He didn't."

They don't talk much after that.

Finally, fucking finally, they reach the top of the mountain.

It is absolutely gorgeous.

Tan rocks cascade down a steep slope into a tree lined canyon, and multicolored foliage dots the hillside. The stream is even visible from where they are, and it cuts a pretty blue line through the greenery.

The thin air and exertion aren't what's taking his breath away anymore.

He turns around to see Henry bent over with his hands on his knees, and he hopes his poor boyfriend gets to appreciate this view at some point today because there is no way in hell they are doing this again before they leave in three days.

"Babe, come look."

Henry groans but trudges over, grabbing Alex's hand on the way. Alex isn't sure if it's because Henry needs the support or out of love, but either way, Alex enjoys it.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Henry says after a moment.

"Yeah," Alex agrees. "I think it's worth the walk."

"We still have to go back down, darling."

"Fuck."

-

A few hours later, June and Nora are once again in her bedroom, this time Nora scrolling through her Twitter feed while June attempts to draft a speech addressing the Queen's death.

"Nick Cannon says he's sorry to hear about Queen Mary," Nora says. "And Fox News thinks she had a heart attack after walking in on Henry and Alex fucking."

June snorts and opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted by her phone. "Pez is face timing."

"Ooh." Nora sits up and scoots closer to June so that she can see the screen.

The moment June presses answer, Pez says, "Hello, darling. What the hell is going on?"

June laughs. "You tell me, babe."

His blond hair is brighter than the sun behind him when he says, "Well, it seems to me that my best friend and your brother have run off at the worst possible time. Other than that, I don't know, because you are the first person to answer the phone since yesterday."

June winces. "Sorry. It's been pretty crazy."

"It's alright, darling," Pez says. He shifts, revealing the London skyline; he must be on his apartment's balcony. "I'm actually more worried for our royal friends for once."

June can't help but agree as the media dredges up every bit of Queen Mary's past amidst what will probably be her final days. It's almost a good thing Henry and Alex aren't here to see it, and June is thankful that Bea has such a good attitude toward her past because the media is not pulling punches.

"Hey, how is London right now?" Nora asks.

Pez grimaces. "See for yourself."

The camera flips around, and then June is seeing a giant mural splashed on the building across from Pez's of Queen Mary's face.

June gasps. "Dear god, that's horrifying."

"Imagine what it was like waking up to it," Pez says as he switches the camera back to selfie mode. "There's another thing."

His tone darkens enough that it makes June nervous. "What?"

"Well, I also woke up to a lovely letter in my mailbox explaining just how detrimental I am to the royal family. I've already sent it to security, but I wonder how it got to me in the first place." He doesn't look particularly upset about it, but June certainly is. His address isn't even pubic information, and all of his mail is supposed to go through security.

Suddenly, she's hit with an idea. "Hey, what if you came here?"

Pez looks up, but Nora beats him to it. "That's a good idea, actually. We have more security, and it would cut out part of the communication problem."

"Not that I wouldn't love to stay with you, but that's a bit of an overreaction. I get hate mail all the time-"

"But never when the reigning monarch might've been poisoned," June counters. "I'll go ask Mom." She hands the phone to Nora and walks out of the room in search of her mother.

She finds her in the Oval Office working on something or other because apparently the country doesn't stop just because someone might be trying to kill them.

"Hey, Mom, I have a question." It strikes her suddenly that she is essentially about to ask her mother if her boyfriend can stay over. It's about ten years too late, but it's kind of nice to finally have that normal teenage experience since her mother wasn't exactly around enough for that to happen back then.

Ellen looks up. "Yes, sugar?"

"Can Pez come over? He got some weird hate mail, and because of all this Queen Mary stuff, I'm just worried-"

"Yes, honey, Pez can come over," Ellen says. "Just make sure security knows."

"Thanks, Mom." She turns around to go back to her room, hoping Nora and Pez haven't hung up yet.

She finally has good news.

-

The second they're back in the cabin, Alex flops on the floor in the little foyer. "Ahh."

Henry toes Alex's side. "As much as I want to lay down and think about nothing but my burning calves, we must check for ticks and shower."

"Fuck ticks," Alex grumbles. "My blood is boiling; they'll all fall off within the hour."

"Alex." It can only be described as a whine, yet Alex recognizes the tone of stop making this hard thing harder. He is very familiar.

"Ugh. Fine." Painfully, he pushes himself up to standing and puts his arms above his head. "Undress me."

Henry gives him an unimpressed look. "We are both far too tired and sore for that."

"If you undress me, I'll check the dog for ticks," Alex offers.

Eventually, they manage to scour theirs and the dog's skin for ticks and move into the bathroom to shower. When they finally collapse in bed at - 5:30, jesus christ - Alex lets out a relieved sigh. "We should've stayed with Cash and fallen asleep in a lawn chair."

Henry chuckles, then groans. "My abs hurt."

"Baby, everything below my neck feels like it was deep fried." They both laugh for as long as their tired muscles allow it.

Then, Henry rolls over to look at Alex. "I did legitimately have fun today, despite the...horrors."

"Yeah, I'm glad we came out here." Alex grins. "Now, who's gonna go get the ibuprofen?"

Henry groans.

#firstprince #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #fanfic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #ao3 link #my fic #my writing #my fanfic #henry and alex #henry x alex #alex x henry #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #fluff #angst #humor #alex and henry #nora holleran #june claremont diaz #percy okonjo #pez rwrb #pez okonjo

[autisticempathydaemon]

under winter solstice skies (where our worlds will both collide)

Winter Day Six: Family

Key Words: Together, Handholding, Skin, Found, Safe, Peace.

600+ words of a vampire amongst wolves feeling like a fish out of water

“Ash, get a move on, or I’m eatin your share! He was just in the living room; how does your mate manage to be late for a dinner he was already here for?”

“Don’t look at me. One sec he was next to me, next he was gone. Maybe he’s been learning a thing or two from Sneaks.”

“If only he’d learn how to get good, scrub!”

“Fight fight fight fight fight fight-“

“Don’t encourage them, Angel.”

“I am good, but you and Milo teamed up on me, you dickhe- oh, shit, that smells really good.”

“Could you please act your age and wait for everyone to be served before you stuff your face? No one’s fighting you for the roast.”

“I don’t know if I can, Chrissy. What do you say, Lex? 1v1 me for the center slice? Mano a womano?” The jovial werewolf takes a seat next to the stoic vampire and puts his fists up, jabbing playfully at her arm.

Alexis, who’d been sitting stone still at Christian’s side, blinks at his raised hands, and the chatter around the table hushes. To the wolves and unempowered people looking on, her gaze seems frosty and intimidating, but a telepath would have a field day with the chaos behind those eyes.

Do I punch him back? No, he’s not Vincent and not as strong-

Do I laugh? No, then my fangs might show-

Do I-

I’m just staring-

No one is talking-

As Christian’s hand joins hers in her lap with a reassuring squeeze, David’s hand sits heavy on the back of her seat as he puts a basket of rolls on the table.

“If she wants it, she gets it. After all, Alexis is basically the one who made it and half the sides,” the alpha says, knocking his knuckles against the wood of the chair before flicking his beta on the forehead. Asher’s face widens into a bright grin she tentatively returns before he leans the other way to perch his chin on his mate’s shoulder.

“No shit! David, you never let anyone help you out in the kitchen!”

“Well, I wanted to get dinner out on time, and someone missed the back page of the shopping list I gave him,” David says with a pointed look as he sits at the head of the table.

“Oh, a guy gets distracted by a Santa one time, one time-” Asher emphasizes with wild, gesticulating hands and a beaming smile. “-and you like her better than your own best friend. I see how it is!” With a swivel, the werewolf wags an accusatory finger in Alexis’s face, and she raises her head to stare him down with keen, watchful eyes.

“Oh drats,” Alexis says with stone and ice affectation. “You’ve caught onto my master plan to usurp you as beta. Foiled.” Christian snickers, grinning fondly at the back of her head, and Alexis turns ever-so-slightly at the sound of his laugh. The gestures are quiet, familiar, and kind of hilariously infatuated coming from and directed at the proud, stubborn Christian. Asher can’t help but laugh too.

“Chrissy, buddy, you’re gonna let your girl take my spot? She’s got less seniority than I do!” he yells with equal parts amusement and exaggerated outrage.

“It’s like I’m always telling you, Ash,” Milo says with a wink and a smirk. “A wolf and his mate’s a package deal; they’re after you as a team!”

When they all arrive back in Dahlia, the Aussie is aghast that Marie already has pictures from the trip printed and framed on her mantle. The one awkward high school portrait from before he got his braces off isn’t there anymore, and that would be a blessing if not for the one replacing it. The image of Christian, red-faced and indignant, arguing with someone off frame while tightly, stubbornly refusing to let go Alexis’s hand is just as inescapable as Marie pestering him for grandkids.

#redactedasmr #redacted audio #redactedaudio #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redacted #redacted fanfiction #redacted fanfic #busybee writes #redacted shaw pack #redacted Alexis #redacted Christian #redactedws22

[llondonfog]

23?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

my living room!!

it's typically just approaching dusk or we've just passed into the bruised purple of evening, and i have my back sliding door to my deck open to let the spring air drift in (plus i like to watch the colorful fairy lights i have wrapped around the railing sway in the breeze against the soft night). i'm usually curled up on my couch (my favorite piece of furniture, i bought it before i even found my home—rich royal blue, tufted velvet, and rolled arms with several clashing floral and jewel toned pillows— edwardian vibes lol) with my laptop, and a mug of tea (type varies, but lately i've been OBSESSED with queue mignonne tea in earl grey yuzu<3) on the glass coffee table that's bound by a geometric golden frame.

it sits there (sometimes forgotten) along with my various roman/green sculpture candles, felt flowers sitting in a vase made from the bust of david, and diasomnia figurines LOLL. it's getting too hot for the fireplace now so i have my fake burgundy candles flickering on top of my mantle (can't have fire hazards with my cat around....) for the Ambience(tm)!! they cast the loveliest shadows against the whitewashed brick and butter yellow walls.

it's cozy, homey, and complete as my cat naps on his tree across from me <3

#lettie's asks #im crying this is the environment in which i produce the most Cursed content #i used to write in my bedroom a lot but i've preferred the living room now that it's warming up and i can enjoy it more lol

[solesommerso]

Mess | Deacon Kay x Dan Hondo Harrelson

Summary: things get rough when your husbands keeping something from you and your pseudo kid gets involved

A/n: use of ‘rain’ requested by @satan-incarnate-666, thank you for the ask <3. This is set in season 3 after street “quits” but before the team find out what actually is going on

Genre: angst

Warnings: crying

~

Deacon sighs as he checks his watch for the fifteenth time in what feels like two minutes, still eleven pm, still an hour past when Hondo was supposed to be home and still making Deacons mind reel.

The past week has been a whirlwind of Street quitting, Hondo suddenly getting distant, him not coming home on time, not even looking David in the eye when he brings up Street no longer working with them. Deacon knows all too well that the younger officer was more than just a teammate to his husband but watching him hurt so bad about it is more painful than Deacon thought it would be.

“Sorry I’m late, got caught up with something.” Hondo strips his soaked jacket off quickly, the rain drenching his whole figure and making a puddle appear under his boots.

“You’ve said that three times this week.” Deacon doesn’t mean to start off so hostile but he worried and has never seen Hondo act like this so he has no idea what to think.

“I know, I’m sorry. My heads just a mess right now.” Deacon hums, he can see in his partners eyes that there’s something he’s not sharing.

“Have you talked to Street?” And there’s that expression of pure pain that Deacon hates more than anything.

“Uh- no. I haven’t.” It feels like a lie.

“Dan if somethings going on I need you to tell me.” Deacon moves forward, taking Hondos cold hand in his own, squeezing and silently praying he gets an actual answer this time.

“Like I said, my heads a mess. That’s all.” David sighs again, he knows it’s not all there is to Hondos distance.

“Don’t do that, come on Deac.” Hondo pleads when Deacon takes his hand away and walks over to the couch he was resided on before his spouse got home.

“You’re lying to me.” He blurts, watching how Hondos eyes drop to the floor.

“I can’t tell you what’s going on.” David urges his tears away and looks over to the picture on the mantle, it’s Hondo, Deacon and Street, they’re standing with their backs to the camera and all have a ‘Harrelson’ hoodie on. Chris took it without their knowledge and Dan almost sobbed at it, he’s yet to take it down.

“Is he safe?” Deacon isn’t dumb and know this has to do with Street, there’s nobody else Hondo would keep a secret for.

“I don’t know Deac, he’s- he says he is but I don’t know.” The anguish in Hondos voice makes Deacon turn his head, there’s tears rolling down Hondos cheeks that he’s not even bothering hiding.

“Please tell me what’s going on.” David stands, not yet stepping forward but hoping Hondo understands what he’s trying to show.

“I can’t, I would but I can’t. I’m sorry.” Hondo ducks his head down, wiping at his tears, shifting on his feet in a way that makes Deacon think about Street, they have the same habits.

“I know how you think of James and I think of him the same, but if he’s in trouble we need to help him.” David can’t fathom letting the kid get hurt even if they both know how capable Street is when it comes to taking care of himself.

“There’s nothing we can do Dave. I’m helping the best I can but it’s not enough. I don’t think Street knows what to do either.” Deacon walks back to Hondo, taking in the shaking frame of his husband and catching how his hand fumbles with his wallet. There’s more than one picture of them all folded in there, he keeps it on him at all times.

“Just be there, help our kid.” Deacons arms go around Hondos shoulders, ignoring the freezing rain water still stuck to his husbands skin, closing his eyes when sobs start to shatter through Hondos whole body and leave him limp against David’s frame.

#writing #hh #dk #daniel hondo harrelson #deacon kay #deacon x hondo

[nawilla]

Black Friday 2022:

This was the weirdest tree ornament I encountered during my afternoon Black Friday shopping today.

Yes, that is indeed a hammerhead shark with a load of holiday debris glued to its back.  Is it intended for marine (or shark) biologists?  Is it a commentary on pollution?  Is it supposed to be a mythical shark with cancer?  No idea.  But it was just sort of bizarre.

I did find less bizarre things and repeatedly reminded myself of things that I should not be buying.  Such as the house-shaped advent calendar cabinets, and the metal houses and the little wooden signs because my mantle is already full.  I also looked at Christmas trees as incentive to clean my house, because I am determined to have a full tree next year.

Michaels: I bought picture frames and splurged on a $14 picture frame for a photo of D which had a caption on it that said “I reached out for a hand and got a paw” which is so appropriate for D because she was always sitting on the back of the couch, putting her paw on my shoulder and not happy until it was there.  I have a picture of her fast asleep but still reaching out that paw so I think I will print that one for her.  I’m going to bring it to work to display next to the photo of M the Cat on Santa’s lap.  I also bought wrapping paper (M peed on the carpet next to the wrapping paper and it unfortunately absorbed it, so more paper was needed).  I also bought yarn to make more sports hats for the restaurant crew this year, and yarn for a scarf for the undergrad who helped me this semester.  I got some of the ornament picture frames and some more photo frames for the fuzzies (can you tell I don’t have kids?) and some Halloween/Fall stuff on clearance.   I was not able to find the yarn for the tree skirt, but since I’m not planning to start it until the university holiday, I can try Joann’s next week or just order it online.  (One of the yarns is only available there anyway).  I was tempted to buy a fake pine wreath instead of a real one, but then I remember I had one in the basement so I bought some new picks for it (and some shatteproof ornaments).  My brain boggled at the cost of wire ribbon wreath bows, but  then I rememebered I saved at least 3 red ribbons from fresh wreaths in previous years, so I just tried to match the color scheme of the bow I already had.  I could not find curling ribbon, which was annoying, though I probably have some in the basement for dressing up packages.

TJ Maxx: I found some card games for my cousin and a Christmas trivia game for my sister so they can have fun with whoever they spend the holidays with.  I also found some H&D chocolate covered cherries, which was a win because the ones I ordered for me for my birthday (in a pretty jar) ended up on backorder until January.  

Bed Bath & Beyond: the doorbuster I was looking for was doorbusted.  Bought nothing.  Selection of holiday baking stuff was disappointing this year (or I already have everything).

Marshalls: I bought a few reusable shopping bags (I like to use them as gift bags), and found some Harry &  David chocolate covered blueberries (which were not available alone from the website this year).

Then I decided to come home, magically right before the bus home arrived.  So not a bad day, despite the rampant inflation.

#weird tree ornaments #hammerhead shark #black friday #black friday 2022 #holidays 2022