#anyway read these books!! b and I have no one else to talk to them about

[fellamarsh]

I guess I'm a TikTok girlie now?? Anyway here's two of my all time favorites!! Neither are very romance heavy but relationships drive both plots and the dynamics between characters drive me insane (complimentary). They're also just so funny? Like, I actually honest to God laughed out loud?

They work as standalones but you absolutely have to read both; context from Swordspoint will leave you crying halfway through Privilege of the Sword at the line "I brought us some fish".

Alec is my darling, awful, limpwristed disaster man, and Richard is the sweetest patientest most autism-having utterly ruthless swordsman ever. I love Katherine too; her butchification is so important to me.

#anyway read these books!! b and I have no one else to talk to them about #also the author is a gay jewish lady. what more could you ask for #books recs #book recommendations #queer fantasy #queer fiction #queer romance #bookblr

[erb23]

I miss [some of the comic characters I read] having civilian friends. Or just a civilian life in general.

If you don't balance out the heroics with them having something to come home to and live through then why are they even putting on a mask to fight for?

#i dunno like i said it isn't every character but it just seems like my current faves have people #who just don't care about that good good work life balance between civvies and hero stuff #though current newly started series are looking up in that aspect #at least B**** D**** or G**** don't have their hooks in my faves anymore though they did a lot of damage #*why would you want to read [characters] doing homework or hanging out with friends* because its interesting #old men literally make writing harder for themselves by limiting scenarios that could do so much to build up and flesh out characters #and then they go out of their way to make the worst decisions imaginable that wipe out nearly 4 years of character development #and then have the audacity to do nothing with their new blank slate and leave others to navigate the mess after. #Anyways giving one man full control over an entire slate of characters and shoving out all the writers that have been making good stories #with them for 4+ years was a dumb decision and soured so many people writing for them and then editorial wonders why they all start working #elsewhere #With all I have to say you'd think I only read American big 2 comics but nah. Everything else is just more consistent or has like 0 #fan presence so I'd be the only one talking about stories I like. But at any given time i'm reading 3 different books #and i'm slowly translating a ln the hooked itself in my brain. I'm bad at it but its so fun. Also studying for a certification exam :P

[dilfl0v3rss]

this was the eren and reiner fic with a the different ending. i felt like it wasn’t what y’all wanted so i changed it, but if you’re interested in reading it here it is🤷🏽‍♀️

caller blocked

“ian ready for no relationship.” the excuse of excuses. the words that were always thrown your way after you’d try to convince your little “fling” that you wanted to be more. eren stood up, zipping his pants before grabbing his hoodie and heading out your dorm room. your situation was…complicated. well not really. you grew very attached to this man, looking for him at parties, going to every single one of his games, giving him your notes so he wouldn’t fail and get kicked off the team, and letting him fuck you whenever he wanted.

you were practically dating. or that’s what you thought. eren seen you as just another pretty little thing to keep his grades up and his dick wet. using you constantly while labeling it at love to keep you coming back for more. “b-but why ren?” eren dropped his shoulders, sighing before he walked back to you and raised your chin with his fingers. “you know the rules pretty. cant be tied down worrying about a girl during the season. when all of this craziness is over then we can work sum out.”

a smile bloomed on your face as you looked at eren in complete adoration. you couldn’t wait for the season to end so you could finally be with the man you love. your friends seen you as a complete idiot, and they had no problem trying to shut down your delusions. “girl what don’t you get? as soon as the season ends he gon drop you like a bad habit.” “yea he’s lying to you baby.”

you shook your friend as your friends annie and sasha tried to speak some sense into you. “he wouldn’t do that to me. h-he lo-” “he doesn’t love you and m’gonna prove it.” before you could reply annie pulls out her phone, clicking historias instagram story to show you what she posted in her close friends. there eren was, laying his head on her stomach with his arms wrapped around her as the rest of his body laid snug between her legs. the caption reading ‘pussy put his ass to sleep🤣’.

your eyes instantly welled with tears as you watched eren, your eren be with someone else the same way he’d be with you. annie was contemplating telling you for awhile. hoping that you’d come to your senses on your own without having to get hurt, but she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. “why would he-” “because historias dumber than a bag of rocks and she doesn’t mind sucking and fucking a dick that’s been in half the campus.” sasha spit.

annie wiped your tears with a napkin from her purse before standing up with you on the quad bench. “fuck him furreal. there’s so many guys that have been tryna get at you, but you’ve been oblivious to them because of eren.” you nodded your head, acting as if you were agreeing but you were really heartbroken. the three of you said your goodbyes and you went back to your room. tears flooded your pillowcase as you thought about what you had just witnessed.

you were being played, but you weren’t about to just let it go. deciding that one day you’ll get your revenge, but right now you wanted nothing to do with him. weeks went by since you’ve last talked to eren. he wasn’t suspicious of it since he’d usually only talk to you when he needed something anyways. covering up his actions with “practice” to keep you from pestering him.

as annie said, a lot of guys have tried to get at you and instead of shooting them down like you usually did, you gave one a chance. you and reiner have gotten pretty close over the last few weeks. texting almost everyday, eating lunch together, and sharing your favorite books with each other in the library as you studied. he was sweet and charming.

always paying for your lunch no matter how many times you’ve tried to return the favor, walking you all the way to your dorm after a particularly late study sesh, and holding your hand when the two of you would cross the street. he mostly did that for his enjoyment, but you didn’t mind.

the two of you weren’t dating, but many people thought you were, given that one was barely seen without the other. “where’s your boo suge.” sasha would say when you finally hung out with your girls after three long weeks. “hush uppp. we just talking.” annie, sasha, and pieck busted out laughing before pieck leaked some information to you.

“girl you know we seen you getting your back blown out in the back of his jeep right?” your hands flew to your mouth as you gasped in shock. “yupp. saw him pulling your hair and allat right in our dorm parking lot.” sasha said as you covered your face in embarrassment before mumbling into your hands. “ooouuu yall so nosey i could strangle all three of you right now.” annie scoffed as she pulled your arms from your face.

“you think we’re dumb? you’ve been ditching us every chance you got. and when you do decide to finally hang out with us for a little, you come with a bunch hickies and a pimp walk.” all of you laughed at her last comment. rolling your eyes before checking your phone. speak of the devil.

rei🌻

‘got everything ready for movie night!’

‘waiting on you now mama💛’

you looked up from your phone, instantly getting pissed looks from your friends. “don’t even say nun. go be wit your man. enjoy it too because this weekend you all OURS. you hear me?” you giggled as you stood from your spot on sasha’s beanbag chair. “i hear youuu. love yallll!!” each of your friends replied with “love you toos” before you left to go spend time with reiner.

“aight i got nightmare on elm street and i got fri-” “princess and the frog” reiner chuckled as you looked up at him. sitting on his bed in nothing but his t shirt that you changed into as soon as you got there. “we watched that last time princess. you said you’d let me switch it up.” pink lip jutting out in a pout at he looked at you with sad eyes.

you laughed, watching this huge man with black ink dancing around his arms and chest being such a softy for you. his sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he situated himself under you on the bed. “okay then coco. i love un poco locoooo” a groan flew from his lips as he rolled his eyes at your choices. “no more disney. if i hear another song ima rip my ears off.”

the two of you ended up settling on john wick, but that didn’t really matter since it was thirty minutes into the movie where you found yourself plopping up and down on his thick dick. big veiny hand holding the back of your neck while his other arm was squeezing your ass. “how ya feeling princess.”

your moans flew directly into reiners ear as your hands gripped the pillow next to his head. “s-so good papa. real good.” his pace slowed as he started putting more of his inches into you. your hands flew to his hair, stroking and pulling his blonde crown with your eyes closed tightly. “that’s what i like to hear. love making my pretty girl feel good.” you were so out of it you didn’t even notice that reiners hand was no longer on your ass. instead he was texting your ex fling on your phone.

ren ren💚

‘yo. you up?’

he seen the name pop up and instantly got heated, knowing what he’s done to you. he grabbed the device without thinking as he made quick work to delete his number before replying.

you

‘yea what’s up?’

347-***-****

‘miss you mama🤧’

‘let me pull up on you’

‘the nerve of this guy’ reiner thought as a quick idea came up into his head. he quickened his strokes, laying the phone on the bed as the phone dialed erens number. “o-o-ooouuu rei you feel so good.” a smirk crept onto his face. “i feel good pretty girl?” you nodded your head, whining after you felt a hard slap to your ass. the sound bouncing off the walls as his one hand took up lots of space on your asscheek.

“use those words mama. like when you talk t’me.”

“y-you feel so g-good daddyyyy” reiner looked up at you in adoration before connecting his lips with yours in a sloppy kiss. smacking sounds ringing loud in the air as he practically devoured you. reiner glanced back at the phone to see that eren had hung up, a bunch of texts popping up as he scrolled through each of them.

347-***-****

‘wyd y/n?’

‘man you so lame for that fr’

‘how you just gon give my pussy away like that?’

‘he never gon be able to fuck you like i do’

‘cmon baby don’t pass up a relationship with me for braun…’

‘i swear i’ll never text historia again’

‘she could never amount to you ong baby’

‘baby?’

‘text me back y/n :(‘

‘at least still study with me…historia’s so dumb i’ll get kicked off the team fasho’

*caller blocked*

reiner threw your phone to the side before laying you on you your back. pulling out of you before moving his head towards your pussy. his pink lips wrapped around your clit before licking up and down your middle. “all mine right baby?” his green eyes met your brown ones. the two of you staring deeply into each other before you nodded you head slowly.

“all yours”

#aot x black reader #reiner x black!reader #reiner x black reader #reiner x black y/n #reiner smut #reiner braun x black!reader #reiner braun x black reader #reiner braun x black y/n #reiner braun smut #aot reiner x black reader #aot reiner x black!readee #aot reiner x black y/n #aot reiner braun x black reader #aot reiner braun x black!reader #aot reiner braun x black y/n #aot reiner smut #aot reiner braun smut

[keravnous]

desperado! ; tangerine/fem!reader (smut 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 3 here | read pt. 4 here

The Twins are laying low in Amsterdam. Growing bored of being stuck in the hideout all day, Tangerine decides to explore what the shifty parts of the city have to offer at night.

word count: 12,9k

warnings: i mean if atj can dance then tangerine can too, tango dancing bc it's very sexy and steamy ok; car sex, head while driving, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female), fingering, rough and passionate sex, undernegotiated kinks: (light) spanking, daddy kink (once or twice), unprotected sex, choking, pet names, dirty talk, name calling, hotel sex; they steal a car bc why not, short intro from tangerine's pov, small glimpses into his dysfunctionality, rather slow story development at the beginning, i still have very strong feelings about this angry man so please, have this

title is from the song of the same name, desperado by rihanna

the songs they're dancing to are esta noche en vivo by carlos libedinsky and otra luna by narcotango

mel said: kinda sad we didnt get to suck his dick in bathroom b!tch and I said: same

The air is still warm and a little humid despite the late hour, filled with laughter and the sweet, sweet smell of alcohol and marihuana, sweat and summer. Tangerine takes another drag from his cigarette, watches how the smoke curls into the dark sky, illuminated by the colourful lights of the city. He takes a deep breath.

He sighs, relishes in the way his shoulders relax. He feels alive -- again; finally. It's a real relief, has his limbs going a little slack. He had felt anger clawing at his chest for the past week now, the beast inside ripping his skin to shreds and lashing out with its razor-sharp claws - mostly at his brother. But since he had left the flat about an hour ago it has been curled up rather peacefully in his chest, with a satisfied purr in sync with his heartbeat.

Next to him, the water in the canals lays calmly, reflecting the city's lights and echoing the clinking of glasses and music that wafts through the streets. Tangerine passes by a restaurant, people sitting outside under string lights, drinking, chatting, eating and he watches them as he strolls by. They radiate happiness and it catches onto him like a wave, has him smiling at the sight. He takes another drag of his cigarette, enjoys the way the smoke burns in his throat. Jesus Christ, how he had missed this.

There just aren't enough books, good books, that can keep him holed up in a small flat for a whole fucking month. And thus, he had decided to break - well, bend - the rules a little tonight.

Their contact, Henk, had told him about that one spot where one could get anything: from alcohol to various drugs and weapons, maybe even a hitman. If one's lucky. And Tangerine does feel a whole lot of fucking luck pumping through his veins tonight, making him feel a little light-headed, stardust at the heels of his shoes.

His chest feels light and his feet are practically flying over the cobblestones, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth as he lays his head back, watches the illuminated sky above - exhales smoke, inhales the night.

A group of students staggers by, laughing and cheering, passing a bottle of liquor around. His gaze follows them, nostalgia tearing at his heartstrings as he remembers the times when Lemon and him were just that - young and without a care in the world.

Now, their hands are sticky with blood - metaphorically, he had washed his well and thoroughly after last month's job went wrong - and they are both in hiding. Again.

Lemon insisted it would be careless to go out at night, at any time of the day really - "That's bollocks, mate. You can't just go out, can ya? What if they sent someone after us?" -, but especially if it was just to have some fun. Because fuck fun, right?

But, there is nothing else to do anyways, with the way his brain always, always finds a way back to his own recent failure and how it was linked to Bolivia.

Bolivia -- it still leaves him sleepless and shaking sometimes, just like tonight.

Tangerine had been pacing the living room craving a drink until Lemon fell asleep, and then decided that he needed a change of scenery, something to take his mind of the carnage and its debris.

"Yeah, let's just all go fuckin' insane in that flat, huh", Tangerine huffs to himself, looking at his phone. It beeps, signalling him that he is getting closer to his destination. His feet carry him through the streets of Amsterdam, a warm summer breeze rustles his silk shirt and cools his warm skin as he passes by restaurants, bars and closed book and flower shops.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of a launderette: Wassen bij Muriel.

The neon lights inside are on, illuminating the sidewalk in a cold white. He blinks. There is no one inside but an old lady behind the counter and a grimly looking man sitting on a plastic stool in the back corner. He can hear faint music coming from behind the glass door.

To an unsuspecting tourist it would look like a rancid shop but to him, it doesn't. Tangerine knows better, has been to a lot of places like this.

"Alright", he says - lets his neck crack once, twice and throws his cigarette away - before pushing the door open, the bell above ringing.

***

You watch your friend leaning down towards the young woman, sitting in a darkened corner. Your father never wanted you to befriend any of his third or fourth row dealers but you never were one to follow rules, always going for the next thrill, the next rush of adrenaline. But tonight, there's been no rush so far, no tingling of your veins - just pure and blank boredom.

You had picked out your favourite dress in the prospect of being offered to dance with a handsome stranger, even ditched on the underwear to make sure the thin fabric hugged your curves nicely, but the men in here are mostly uninteresting, ordinary - simple dealers or lowlife thugs, street criminals that steal money from unwary tourists.

You watch how your friend, with a quick sleight of hand, exchanges cocaine for money, laughing at the woman like she is an old friend and then makes his way back to the bar. He winks at you and squeezes past a young couple, orders himself a drink.

You swirl your glass between your fingers, watching the remaining puddle of wine running up and down its walls - dripping down like blood - and then bring it up to your lips, emptying it in one sip. The taste is warm and full, rich and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the strumming of the band's contrabass and the red wine on your tongue. It reminds you of that one time in Bogotá, when you and your father had visited his suppliers - wine and music melting together with the summer heat, having you dream of the jungle, old villages, and the beaches of private islands off the coast.

Your father had dragged you along once more, this time to Amsterdam, despite your pleas not to - "You will have to take over one day and I want you to be prepared" - and you were gladly sneaking away when your friend invited you to spend the night at his favourite bar.

It is a tango joint and a beautiful place, an old basement with low ceilings and a small bar, people and furniture bathed in colourful neon lights. Purple and red are dancing across faces and sweaty bodies - swirling over the dance floor or pressed against the cold walls, tongues shoved into mouths - reflecting off glasses and expensive jewellery.

It is a place where people like you and your friends get together: the upcoming generation of an international crime elite, sons and daughters throwing away their parents’ blood or drug money, getting high and drunk hidden by the shadows of the night, staying awake until the sun rises again. It's a place where people like you mix and mingle with those working for your families, a welcome change to a certain hierarchy at something a civilian would naively call a safe space.

You open your eyes again, as the band starts to play a new song, blinking while your eyes adjust to the dim, colourful lights. There still are couples swirling across the dance floor to the sensual rhythm of the tango, that the small band in the back is playing. You let out a sigh at both, the loneliness and the boredom creeping in on you, and turn around on your barstool to order yourself another drink as --

Your shoulder suddenly connects heavily with something firm and warm - triggering a muttered Fuckin' hell - and a second later the man, who you just bumped into, turns around. He looks pissed, left eye twitching.

"'M sorry", you say quickly, a little taken aback by both: his anger and his beauty. The former doesn't seem to last very long, with his lips tilting up a little, eyes gleaming mischievously while they dance over your frame.

"Apology accepted, love", he has a strong northern British accent, like some of your father's business partners do.

But he is arguably a lot more handsome than any of them are. Dark, combed, and slicked back hair that curls right over his shoulders building a nice contrast to his light blue, short-sleeved silk shirt, unbuttoned down to his belly - exposing golden jewellery. The necklace shines warmly against his pale skin, glimmering purple in the dim lights.

It might be the alcohol and the loneliness but you really, really want to just dart one hand out, run it over his chest and his neck, feeling his warmth and the few locks of chest hair, smelling and tasting the scent of summer on his skin.

You wonder what he does, what his profession is. The 70s porn-stache, vintage Rolex and golden rings scream Miami and you can't help but imagine him in the hot sun, bare chested, blood on his hands - red red red - cutting open bricks of cocaine -

"May I get you a drink, love?", his voice pulls you out of your daydreams and you blink. He must've caught you staring.

You know, that men like him usually mean trouble. And yet, you can hear yourself say: "That'd be very nice, thank you."

He lifts two fingers up, signalling the man behind the bar that he wants to order something and you notice that his knuckles are bruised. Blue and green mixing with the red of the scab, partially healed. There are scars on his forearm, meandering between his tattoos and up up up his arm below the soft, expensive silk of his shirt.

The goosebumps that erupt on your skin are nothing but pleasant as you immediately know what type of man he is. Everyone in here is on the market for something: drugs, love, sex, guns - but rarely does one sell murder. Real, cold-blooded murder. Ruthless, fast, dirty.

He's trying to hide it but watching him as he discusses the menu with the bartender, it sticks out like a sore thumb: the well-mannered gestures crash with his fucked-up hands, the way he's dressed like a drug-selling pimp refuses to fit in with his sugar-coated talk and the way he moves can't hide a lingering anger, like a raging beast pacing in a cage.

It is a carefully put together façade, but it's no use against you. You know men like him and you know them well. They don't scare you - quite the opposite, and thus the pure and utter danger he emits has excitement tingling in your stomach. As fucked up as it is: it makes you want him - adrenaline kicking in, shooting a tingle right between your legs.

He turns around again and you lean forward a little, deciding to make your move soon.

"'S a Mezcal Margarita alright with you, love?", he asks and you throw him your most charming smile, nodding.

"We'll take two then, mate", he nods and slides a few bucks over the counter, watches the bartender pouring liquid into a cocktail tumbler.

"Sooo", the man turns around towards you and grins, shows some teeth as his hand vanishes in the pocket of his linen trousers, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He's taking a looong deliberate drag, puffing out the smoke, "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Y/N", you reply, gaze dropping to his lips and back up, where his gaze catches yours. He has beautiful eyes, blue like the fucking sea and the purple neon lights make them glow with mischief and smugness - dark and oddly promising, inviting - framed by long lashes.

One of your fingers brushes over his hand, that is resting on the counter. The wooden surface is sticky with half-dried alcohol. His gaze holds yours while he takes another drag of his cigarette. You just might lose yourself in the hue that dances over his eyes.

"And you are?", you say, just loud enough to be audible over the music.

His gaze drops to your fingers that are brushing over his golden rings and he chuckles: "Don't ya try stealing those, sugar, I know that fuckin' trick", and you smile innocently, as he leans in a little, "Name's Tangerine, love." There are cheers erupting from the dancefloor, the rhythm of the music picking up.

You pout playfully and his eyes dance over your face, glimmering mischievously. "Oh", you sigh, "And here I was, thinking you'd may even give me your real name."

"Can't, love, m'sorry."

"Mh pity -- who did you kill?"

"Who said I killed someone?", he's dangerously close now, voice a low rumble.

"Your hands", your fingers dance over the crust of his knuckles and his eyes gleam. For a moment he says nothing and then, towering over your sitting form, voice low and rough:

"Aren't ya afraid o'me, love?"

"Terribly", and he grins at that, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Bet you are", Tangerine hums, barely audible and sticks his cigarette between his lips, one hand darting up, has his thumb gently grazing over your chin.

The touch is nice, soft and gentle but firm, in full control. It makes your chest tingle, sends a wave of pleasure through your body. His eyes flick over your face and you find yourself growing a little hot under his gaze. You wonder is he's going to lean in, ditch his cigarette and --

The bartender places two glasses in front of you and it makes you snap out of it for a second, noticing how close Tangerine got. His thighs are touching your knees and his face is so so close to yours, noses mere inches apart.

"Thanks, mate", Tangerine says, pulls the glasses closer. You watch him - slender fingers getting a little wet with condensed water, cigarette between his lips, chain and bracelet rustling with the sudden movement. There's a thin film of sweat glistening on his chest and it has your thighs clench with raw and utter want, wanting to put your lips onto the firm the muscles, licking his skin clean.

The way his body still presses against your knees, is electrifying and you decide to invite him in more. You let your knees fall apart, making way for him. His gaze drops down and he chuckles to himself but moves in nonetheless, one of his hands gently coming to a rest on your thigh, holding you close and in place. The touch shoves the soft, flowy silk of your cowl dress aside, the slit in the fabric exposing your thigh. Tangerine's hand is warm on your skin, rings pressing cooly against your hot flesh, as he starts groping you - thumb digging into your thigh and you gasp quietly.

"Been wantin' to ask -- what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this, huh?", he says, cigarette bobbing up and down in the corner of his mouth.

"My friend sells blow here", you say truthfully - not a full lie and yet not the complete truth, but you know better than to trust a stranger with your ties to your family's business - and piqued interest flickers through his gaze.

Tangerine then, very languidly, takes another looong drag from his cigarette and taps some of the ash on the counter, holding your gaze with his own. "D'you sell yourself, love?"

You laugh at that, violently shaking your head. "Hell, no."

He chuckles, eyes roaming over your face. "Well, looks like I got myself a good girl, then eh?", he knows what he is doing, voice low and deep and you swallow.

"I wouldn't say so", you whisper, "But why don't you come a bit closer and find out?"

Tangerine flashes a grin, shows his bright bright teeth, one of his hands coming up and stroking his moustache while he shakes his head in disbelief.

It's stupid. Very fucking stupid. He shouldn't. He should get the fuck out of here - quickly. This is dangerous. She might be, too.

Instead, he looks up again. Ah, fuck it - fuck the rules. Lemon will get it - maybe. Ultimately, he will, simply has to - with the beast inside rattling the cage.

Tangerine leans in, his hand on your thigh sneaking up, making its way over your hip, your side and then cups your body, thumb digging into your flesh underneath your tit. Your heartbeat picks up as he pulls you close and you nearly yelp, scooting forward on the barstool, your hand coming up and grasping his forearm, holding on to him. "Well, why don't we fuckin' drink to that then, love?", he rasps, the hand resting on the bar pulls your glass in.

With a shaking hand you take it, fingers closing in around the cool glass and you watch him raising his, bud of cigarette nearly touching it. He is exhilarating, demanding and firm underneath the attire of a gentleman and it has your head swimming, wetness pooling between your legs. Excitement bubbles up in your chest, wondering where the night may, will lead.

"Cheers, love", Tangerine smirks and winks at you, both your glasses clink. He is still so so close, your knees still hitting his hips and his tongue runs over the edge, licks the salt away slowly, playfully until he downs half the Margarita in one go, like it's water.

You raise one brow, carefully taking a sip. The salt on the edge of the glass tingles on your lips and the liquor burns nicely in your throat as you take another. It's a hellishly strong cocktail and you wonder if he's a regular drinker. A lot of people like him - call them what you like, assassins, killers, hitmen - are.

Tangerine eyes the glass in his hand, weighs it from left to right a little, then nods to himself in approval while you take another sip. He instead downs the other half of the cocktail and puts the glass back on the counter. It's a quick, routinely movement and you come to realize that you may be right. You decide to not give it too much thought, because he's hot and he freed you from the boredom threatening to swallow you whole tonight and because everything about him has your blood singing with the gleeful promise of adrenaline. You put your glass next to his and look up at him through your lashes. He catches the invitation.

Tangerine throws his cigarette into his empty glass and then leans in again. The tip of his nose brushing over yours, the sensual music entangling both of you as his gaze flicks over your face.

You hook one leg around his waist and he moves in closer, pressing yourself against him, one hand on his arm - to anyone looking over you might even seem like an actual couple, enjoying the night out - and hunger burns in his eyes. His lips brush over yours and you know he's toying with you, keen on him leaning in to fucking kiss you already --

The music stops.

There's sudden silence as the band passes a bottle of whiskey around and the two of you freeze, blinking dumbfoundedly. The silence is odd, stalling both of you but you can't help it, feeling like drowning in the dark dark blue of his eyes, shimmering with green in the purple light. You can hear Tangerine breathe quietly with him being so utterly close to you and it's nice, comfortingly human and you can't help but smile against his lips still hovering over yours, a gentle gesture that is being reciprocated by him.

You're a little dizzy with it too, the alcohol, lack of fresh air and his body warmth mixing together, making you a little unsteady. He has pure and raw want tingling in your belly, your hand on his upper arm clenching around the firm muscles a little, thumb brushing over the soft material. And then, just as the music picks up again, his lips brush against yours: "You don't happen to wanna dance, do ya, love?"

"Fuck yes, thought you'd never ask", and Tangerine laughs, a deep, pleasant sound that rumbles in his chest and offers you his hand.

Yours runs down down down his arm and closes around his, while he's making some room for you to slip off of the barstool and then he's pulling you close again - your body pressing smack against his side as he's dragging you along to the makeshift dance floor.

The crowd still cheers, applauds the band and the bandoneon plays the few first chords of a new song. Tangerine gently takes your hand in his, thumb cupping your index and middle finger as your palm rests against his. His other hand sneaks around your waist and rests and the small of your back, holding you close. He looks at you and you feel like drowning in his eyes, pupils blown wide and you wonder when he'll show first signs of being drunk, with the way you already feel a little warm, light-headed. In a few minutes, maybe an hour you'll learn that he holds his liquor way better than you hold your own.

He is even closer to you now than before at the bar and now you can smell his perfume through the thick cloud of smoke that wavers through the basement's air - he smells nice, deep and rich of citrus and a little of vanilla and cigarettes, reminds you of the summer you've spent in Palermo once.

Tangerine gently places one hand below your shoulder and yours comes up, rests on his shoulder, just as he starts to move to the music. He takes a step backwards, guiding your forward and gently guides you through the crowd - a steady back and forth in rhythm with the tango.

Tangerine's hand still holds yours, guides your arm until it is stretched out and then it abandons your hand, runs down down down your arm very gently, pads of his fingers brushing over your soft skin, hairs on your arms rising. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers cradle back between yours, a smile tugging at his lips.

One of his legs pushes between yours while he manoeuvres you backwards, hand on your waist holding you close. Tangerine presses himself against you, heat radiating off of his body with both your arms still stretched out and you grip his hand tightly, leaning back. You arch your back, raising one leg and hooking it around his waist as his gaze locks with yours. You can feel his crotch pressing against yours, with the way the skirt of your dress hikes up your legs. He is warm and a little hard already, has the breath hitching in your throat and arousal igniting your loins.

Tangerine leans down a little, lips still curled up in smile and then pulls you up like you weigh nothing and you stretch your legs in a delicate, slight split as he twirls you around, your chest firmly resting against his.

His arm presses onto your back, holds you close until your feet touch the ground once more and he immediately guides you sideways with a few long and slow strides until he comes to a halt. One of your arms wraps around his shoulders as he holds you close and you stretch your leg out, your heel gliding forward over the concrete floor of the basement, stretching your leg out in front of you and then gently sliding it backwards into a deep lunge, your body following the movement. You lean back and Tangerine follows, leans down and towers over your body.

He holds you there for a moment, chest rising and falling, brows furrowed a little before he carefully helps you back up - immediately embracing your body once more.

The music speeds up and so does he while guiding you over the dancefloor, face close to yours with unbreaking eye contact as you swirl over the concrete.

At the next strum of the contrabass, you take a step back, arching your back. Very playfully you sway your hips, shoulders loosely following while one of hands rests on his forearm, the other lays in his hand, feet tapping the floor rhythmically with the movement of your hips.

You know that he has a perfect view of your body, your hard nipples being visible through the thin fabric of your dress. His gaze drops down, watches how the silk plays with your curves, eyes growing a little darker. You move in and Tangerine pulls you close, your hand intertwined with his resting on his chest and his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling. "No underwear, I reckon, love?", he hums, the fingers of his other hand brushing over your waist.

And you shake your head, whispering: "No, none", and it has his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "Fuck me", he breathes and holds you close while moving over the dancefloor, one hand gently but firmly resting on your ass cheek, hiking the hem of your dress up a little.

The touch ignites you and you press against him, leaning in, nose brushing over his jaw, eyelids fluttering. You are pressed against each other, movements slowing down and blooming into a languid sensuality in dance: long strides, toying with him a little - turning your head away, stretching your arm out, only for his hand to gently caress it - feet wrapping around his calf, leg pushing between his. Tangerine is patient with the little game you are playing, unerringly keeping the lead and you in your place.

You wonder if he fucks like he dances. It makes your skin going hot, imagination running wild and breath hitching.

The song ebbs and the crowd applauds and the two of you come to a halt as well, but not parting, not partaking in the celebration of the band. You are clawing to him, breath going fast and heavy and so does his, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His hand momentarily rejects your waist to brush through his hair and then returns. His touch is firm, a little rough and you sigh contently.

Some people are looking your way, intrigued by what got over the two of you, enticed by each other and oblivious to the surrounding world. It's a dangerous thing - letting your guard down, for both of you - but you couldn't care less.

Tangerine smirks down at you and licks his lips. "D'ya know what ya do to me, dove?", he says quietly and you know but you feel the same, and thus, your hand brushes over his shoulder to his neck and you nestle your bods against his.

You wonder if he can feel your raising heartbeat, smell the lust and the excitement spreading in your body. You look up at him, fingers burying themselves in his locks.

"Mhm - do you?", you reply just as quietly and Tangerine chuckles, eyes falling shut.

Your bodies stay like that, closely pressing against each other with the music picking back up. You gently rest your forehead on his temple, leaning onto him as he holds you close. You can't help it, you just want to fucking touch him and your hand runs over his shoulder to the front, gently moves up his throat and then cups his jaw, fingers brushing over the clean-shaven skin. It's soft and warm and you can feel, hear him take a deep breath.

Moving across the floor slowly, Tangerine's body turns into an anchor for your long, ardent strides; his strong arms holding you up during each turn, muscles twitching beneath your touch. He is so so close to you, so warm - each one of his steps lingering with desire and it washes over you like a wave, has the hairs on your body standing up.

You sink against him, falling into his embrace, arms clinging around his neck and his hand is pressed on your shoulder, the other remains in the air uselessly as he looks down in surprise, brows furrowed. He can see, feel your chest heaving, a quiet whimper escaping your mouth.

Then, his lips curl into a smug grin.

Tangerine carefully twirls you around, hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rests against his chest and you can feel the tip of his nose brushing through your hair as his hands move over your body - one resting on your belly, the other gently cupping you below your breast, feeling the way your heart races against your ribcage, and his touch sends shivers down your spine, has arousal shooting right between your legs. You remain this way for a few beats, the blood in your veins pumping with the rhythm of the music, feeling his strong frame pressing against you - his breath on your temple and his cologne wrapping you in. His body radiates warmth and you can feel his chest rising against your back, his hardening dick pressing against your ass.

Lust tingles in your stomach looking up at him and, at the next strum of the contrabass, you take his hand and twirl out of his embrace. Tangerine follows and pulls you back in and your hand crawls up his arm, another one resting on his neck. His gaze locks with yours as he leans down, tip of his nose brushing against yours.

The hands on your back keeps you close, a dark shadow resting over his eyes, turning them into a deep deep sea. He slowly guides you forward with two long strides and then firmly hooks one arm around you, lunges backward a little and you follow his movement, bending your leg and resting it against his groin. His hard cock presses against your thigh, and he leans in, lips brushing over yours before straightening both of you back up, heels of your shoes connecting firmly with the ground. Tangerine swirls you over the floor and manoeuvres you through the dancing couples, until he eventually, when the space arises, grabs your hips once more. You let yourself fall, upper body leaning back delicately, enthralled by his strength and the way he guides you through the dance, and he pulls you back up.

Your hand runs up his chest, fingers clawing at the silk as your gazes lock once more. You suck in a few breaths, his scent clouding up your mind, hand running higher and higher, thumb cupping his cheek and fingers resting in his hair behind his ear, earring pressing cooly against your skin.

His lips are slightly agape, eyes you up and down, while his hand presses you close. "Yeah, fuck, you wanna take this elsewhere, love?", he rasps and you nod, eyelids fluttering with the hidden promise.

All the while Tangerine navigates you through the crowd, he holds you close, blood pumping in your ears with the way the music makes your chest vibrate, his scent clouding up your mind - only him him him.

As soon as you are out on the street Tangerine is onto you again, pulls you close in the bright lights of the laundrette and kisses you like a starving man. His arms wrap around your waist, pressing you against him, tits flush against his chest, as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands run up his arms, one of them curling his neck and the other cupping his jaw. You can feel his hard dick through his linen slacks and it makes you hot all over, wetness pooling between your legs. You break the kiss, heaving against his lips.

"Fuck", Tangerine huffs, hand on your waist wandering down, cupping one of your ass cheeks. You mewl, eyelids fluttering. You're desperate to touch him, for him to fuck you.

"My hotel's nearby", you whisper and it sounds so fucking needy, "We could take the tram?"

"Yeah sure, lead the way", and you do, stealing another long and sloppy, hungry kiss from him and then he's pulling you close, holds you by his side as the two of you rush down the streets of Amsterdam - heels clicking, sweet nothings on the tip of your tongues. Some people turn their heads, voyeurism kicking in at the oddly hot couple with the air around them cracking with their energy, watching how the two of you rush by - the woman giggling and clearly a little drunk, hands roaming all over the man's chest, while he holds her close, thick British accent wrapping her in.

That is, until he stops dead in his tracks next to an alley on a rather empty street.

"Oi, wait a bloody minute, love -- would'ya look at that", Tangerine looks down an alleyway and you lean in closer, trying to get a look at what he's seeing, peaking over his shoulder on the tip of your toes. His hand is still resting on your waist, fingers splayed out.

"What?", there's nothing. Just cars parked beneath a warmly glowing streetlight in a dark alley.

"That", his finger darts out and points at a beige convertible.

"I -- that's a car?"

He looks a you, a little offended.

"That's not just a car, love. That's a 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille."

You blink, watching him while he eyes the vehicle, fingers brushing over his stache absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking 'bout?", and it doesn't even take him a second to reply: "I wanna steal it."

Well, that's a surprise. "You wanna steal the car?"

"Yeah, I got this fuckin' thing -- 's kinda like compulsion, innit?"

You raise your eyebrows and he looks at you, lips curling up in an amused smile that's looks an awful lot like Sugar I can't change it, now can I? and before he can come up with something witty to go along with it, you say: "Yeah fuck, alright. Let's do it."

He laughs, eyes you up and down. "Ya naughty little girl, eh."

You can feel your skin growing hot, hand brushing over his forearm, leaning in a little. His eyes gleam. "Show me what you can do, babe", and he does, wraps one arm around your hips and strolls over to the car, carefully eyeing the alley.

The windows are rolled down and he grins. "That's an easy one, love, watch it", his hand brushes over your hip and the touch has goosebumps erupting on your arms, running down down your back and you nod - fuck yes, you'll watch.

Tangerine leans against the driver side's door and reaches inside through the rolled down window. You don't know what exactly he's doing but you can see the way his muscles work underneath the blue silk, as he grabs the handle and then, suddenly lifts the door a little out of its frame. The lock bursts, and for a second your muscles tense, body anticipating alarms going off and reading to flee.

Nothing happens; no sirens erupting - just the door swinging open lazily.

Apparently; obviously this is not his first time stealing a car. The thought of him just taking what he wants does something funny to your stomach.

You peak inside. It is an old-timer, with one large seating bench in the front, instead of two seats. Tangerine is holding the door open for you.

"After you, Lady", and he fucking winks at you.

Crawling onto the seats you make sure to make a little show out of it. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as you bend down, until you eventually sit down in the middle of the front row seat. Tangerine sits down next to you and you immediately close the distance between the two of you, pulling one leg up, knee resting firmly on the soft beige leather and pressing against his thigh. The fabric of your dress hikes up, the slit exposing your leg up up up to your groin.

The sight distracts him for second, as you throw a look over your shoulder and out of the rear window, into the night. The alley still lays silent and deserted - but for how much longer? Tangerine watches you tensing up next to him.

"Easy, love, just a minute", he huffs and pulls an envelope out of his pocket, takes out a set of lockpicks.

"Oh, so you just carry that around with you?", you blurt out, blinking.

"Yeah", he says casually, bends down a little, trying to get a good look beneath the steering wheel.

If you were to be more of a thief and less of a drug lord's lazy daughter, you'd be able to identify his choice as a Lishi lockpick.

You watch him as he carefully sticks it into the keyhole of the ignition, slooowly starts to move the tool forward and feeling for the contact of the wafer. Quiet clicking sounds fill the humid air.

You can tell, that Tangerine is showing off a little, trying to impress you with speed and precision. He squints his eyes a little, brows furrowing and eyeing the small lock while carefully turning it clockwise.

It jams.

"Bastard", Tangerine curses underneath, pulls the reader of the lockpick back and carefully feels for the missing contact, tuuurns it --

The engine jolts alive, purrs lowly and the headlights snap on.

"There ya go", he mutters, "Piece 'o piss, eh?"

You snort at his vulgar cockney but you must agree - it did not take him more than two to three minutes, from breaking the lock to starting the engine. It shouldn't, but it does turn you on a little.

Tangerine is slamming the door shut and whips out his phone, handing it over to you. "Type in the address, love, would ya?"

You do and then quickly discard it into the cupholder - you want him and your fingertips tingle with it, wanting to touch him and being touched by him. The female voice - uncanny valley personified - of the google maps assistant pipes up and if you weren't so very fucking intoxicated by him you would laugh.

Instead, a fresh wave of desperate lust takes over you and your hands are onto him again in no time, one crawling up his arm, the other resting on his thigh and feeling his muscles work as he backs the Cadillac up. Tangerine chuckles, throws you a quick look before he is steering the car out of the alley.

You are aching for him to touch you, to be closer to you, hand tugging at his shirt a little while you lean in, nose brushing over the side of his throat.

"Jesus, love", he huffs, "Can't keep ya'self together, can ya?"

And you mewl, shake your head and then your lips are closing in around the exposed crook of his neck. Your tongue laps over the sweaty, hot skin, tasting him - his cologne mixing bitterly with his sweat and you hum, gently sucking at his soft skin.

"Fuckin' hell", Tangerine's right hand abandons the steering wheel, coming to a rest on your exposed thigh brushing over your skin. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, spurring you on, encouraging you. Your eyelids flutter as your tongue comes loose:

"Want me to suck your cock while driving?", you say, looking at him - the tips of your fingers are playfully brushing over his shoulder, silk of his shirt rustling under the feather-light touch.

He snorts, shakes his head a little with disbelief, before looking back at you. It seems to click.

"Bloody hell, you're serious, aren't ya?", and you blush a little. You can see the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows, eyes aimlessly darting over the road, considering.

The google maps assistant pipes up again, chirps out the directions and then falls silent again.

"Yeah, no, that's a very lovely idea", he rasps, and then: "C'mon love, get to it."

And you do, mouth watering at the same time your sight drops down to his linen slacks, the fabric wrapping around his muscular thighs nicely and pressing firmly to his crotch, exposing the outlines of his hard dick straining it.

Your hand wanders up his leg - feeling his muscles twitch as he hammers down the gas pedal, racing by the light switching from yellow to green - and then sour fingers close in around his cock. It is large and hot through the fabric and just feeling it has fresh arousal pooling between your legs, making you hum, before rubbing his bulge through his trousers. Tangerine's right hand leaves your thigh and comes to a rest on your neck, thumb rubbing over your warm skin and making way for you, giving you some space and encouraging you further.

It's a nice, somewhat patronizing touch that is pushing all the right buttons, has you quivering with excitement.

You make quick work of his slacks, pulling the zipper down - already bowing down a little, stretching your lower leg out on the seat behind you - until you open the fly up. There's a damp stain on his dark silk boxers and your mouth fucking waters, before you pull the hem down. His cock springs free lazily and your breath hitches.

Tangerine's cock is large, cut and a little curved, resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair - vein at the bottom pulsing and the tip already flushed, precum glistening in the low light of the passing street lamps.

You can't wait to suck it, taste it, feel it inside of you -- you are fucking hungry for it, spit pooling around your tongue and heart beating in your chest. Arching your back while bowing down between his lower body and the steering wheel, you put your lips onto his dick, kissing from the base to the top, his musky scent wrapping you in, clouding your mind. You can hear him hum, a nice and deep sound, and the city rushing by through the rolled down window.

Your tongue flicks over the head of his dick, lapping at the precum, circling it. The way he tastes - salt and musk - has your head swimming a little, wetness pooling between your legs.

It makes your brain go mushy, hazy and one of your hands brushes over his thigh, desperate to being closer tohim, to make it feel good for him, caressing the warm skin beneath your touch before you blink up at him.

"Fuck, you got a nice cock", you nearly moan as your tongue betrays your brain, impatiently opening your mouth and letting him slide in a little, feeling him pressing hard and hot against your tongue.

"Shit", Tangerine laughs roughly, hand grabbing your neck as his dick twitches against your tongue, "D'ya even hear yourself speak, girl? Fuck."

You smile to yourself, a little coy, and you start to move your hand up up up his muscular thigh, palming his balls through the linen and then grabbing the base of his cock, slowly jerking him. Tangerine groans, breathing loudly, the city passing by.

Spit runs down his dick over taking him in deeper, pools between your fingers and you flick your wrist, moving your hand in rhythm with your tongue.

The car comes to a halt at the next red light, as Tangerine hits the brakes carefully. Your eyelids flutter and then your gaze darts up, meets his while you are releasing his dick from your mouth a little.

Tangerine moans deeply as tongue swirling around the thick head of his dick once more, his gaze boring into yours. "Isn't that just a lovely sight", he groans, right hand brushing through your hair, while the left grabs the steering wheel hard.

Tangerine watches you, traffic light long forgotten, how your tongue licks over his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. "You fuckin' minx -- ya do like behavin' like a slut, don't ya", and you smile against his cock, a quiet Uh-huh leaving your lips, before they close in around the tip of his dick.

His eyelids flutter as you start to suck, bobbing your head a little, tongue rubbing over the tip of his cock. "Fuckin' hell", he puffs his cheeks and throws his head back a little, exhales theatrically. The traffic light switches from yellow to green and you let him sink deeper into your mouth - the engine roars. You are certain he's close to breaking the speed limit, veins bursting with adrenaline and testosterone but you couldn't care less, the musky taste of his cock hazing your mind, lust taking over.

You feel yourself growing wet, cunt aching and you surrender to yourself, complying to your body's wishes, as one of your hands slooowly dips between your legs and underneath the hem of your dress. Your fingers brush up your thighs and over your slick folds, mentally thanking yourself for not putting any underwear on, mostly due to the unbearable heat and your skin-tight dress - but it sure does come in handy now, too. Your index finger flicks over your clit, just as his cock slides deeper into your mouth.

It feels fucking nice, the way Tangerine's dick is hard and heavy and hot on your tongue, his taste and scent engulfing you, the way you rub your clit has lust spreading through your body, moaning around his cock.

And then suddenly, Tangerine hits the breaks, hand hammering down on the horn. One of your hands darts out, barely catching onto the dashboard as you are thrown forward. Blood rushes in your ears, hastily sucking in a few breaths through your nose while you sputter around his cock.

The maps assistant chimes up in that second, reminding the driver that he will need to go right at the next intersection but --

"Ya fuckin' prick, imma fuckin' shoot ya in the fuckin' head ya stupid twat -", Tangerine yells and your head immediately pipes up, abandoning his dick and looking out of the windshield. Tangerine is just speeding up, passing by the car in front of him, angrily looking inside. "Ya dirty fuckin' chav, I got a right fuckin' lady with me 'ere, ya git", he spits and the man slowly turns his head. First, he looks at Tangerine, a cascade of insults flying his way and then he looks at you, smudged mascara and spit on your chin, your lips wet with it. You can see the wheels in his head turning, eyes growing wide as they drop down to one of your hands - the one that is still holding Tangerine's cock - vanishing between his legs. The man blinks and Tangerine flashes him the finger, before speeding by.

"Fuck about -- that fuckin' arsehole, love, could've killed ya drivin' like that", he grumbles, throws him one last look in the mirror, "Seriously, where did that prick get his license, the bloody fuckin' lottery?"

Tangerine's eye twitches and you can see his pulse speeding up, aorta pressing thickly against his neck, pumping. He is like a force of nature and a mental image of him, covered in bruises, blood and sweat flashes before your eyes - chest heaving and knuckles bruised, hair curling and framing his face like a halo, dripping with blood.

"You're so fuckin' hot when you're angry", you mumble and then you're bending down again, tongue licking over his cock, from the base all the way up the top, flicking around its head and then gliiiding back down.

A growl, a real fucking growl, leaves his chest, hand on your neck tightening. "You better get fuckin' back to it, love, Jesus fuckin' Christ", his voice is coarse and it gets you going, makes you wet wet wet and has your head diving back in, tongue lolling out of your mouth as his dick slides back in.

"Atta girl, fuck", he groans and then his hips jolt up, pushing his dick deep into your mouth and you hum around it. You start to bob your head up and down, meeting his thrusts - your hand abandons the dashboard to clutch his thigh, nails digging into the flesh a little.

Tangerine moans at both, your hot and wet mouth sucking him off and the slight pain that blooms in his thigh, dangerously mixing with the anger pulsing in his chest and he throws his head back.

"Just like that, fuckin' hell love", his hips buck, shoving himself deeper into your mouth. The sudden intrusion has you choking a little as he hits the back of your throat, spit gathering around the corners of your mouth while you sputter around his dick - jaw going slack and his hand finding its way into your hair, fisting it as he starts to fuck into your mouth.

Holding your head in place his cock hits the back of your throat, steals your breath. Your nose is buried in his pubes, inhaling his scent - sweat and musk - more saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, wetting his locks. You relax your throat and whimper around his dick, the way he uses you has fresh wetness spreading between your folds, squelching sounds filling the air as your finger is joined by a second, rubbing tight circles over your clit.

You moan around his cock, strangled noises escaping your throat while your rock back against your fingers, choking around the head of his cock hitting your throat.

"Shh, shh shh", he tuts, a little breathless, "Daddy's got ya, mh pretty girl? Lemme just--"

Tangerine's right hand lets go off your hair and then you can feel it sneak past your back, a feather-light touch brushing over the silk of your dress. It travels further and then grabs your ass, the sudden rough touch has you moaning around his dick once more. Your eyelids flutter as he pulls the fabric up up up, fists it and exposes you to whoever or whatever may rush past the passenger side's window. Your fingers speed up at the thought while his hand kneads the flesh of your cheeks.

"Fuckin' pretty", he hums, taking another quick look at the way your head bobs up and down his cock, "All over my cock like that, pretty fuckin' slut."

His hand wanders further down and before you can process it, one of his fingers circles your hole, feeling your slick and your plump folds. "Jesus Christ", he nearly groans, "You just love sucking cock, don't ya?"

That you do, whining around his base as the thick head of his dick hits the back of your throat again, with your fingers still working your clit. "Let me help you with that, love", and with that he pushes one finger in, up to his golden onyx ring, nestles it snugly between your hot walls. They clench around him and the sensation - the lingering promise of more - has you squirming a little.

Tangerine gives you what you want, need - finger curling a little, digits brushing over your spongy hot walls, before he slooowly pulls it back out. It circles your hole once more, quickly joined by a second, before he pushes them in again, starting to fuck you fast.

You moan, feet kicking a little and eyes tearing up at the sensation, with his dick pushing further into your throat and your fingers rubbing your clit, quickly has your muscles clench and cunt squirting.

"Yeah, just right 'ere, love, huh? Gettin'ya all loose 'n wet f'me? Such a good girl, aren't ya?", obscene sounds fill the air as he fucks your slick back into you, bottoms his fingers out, rubbing over the spot that has you seeing stars.

Tangerine moans deep in his chest as his cock starts to fuck into your mouth again and you let him use your throat gladly while his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, accompanied by the way your fingers flick over your clit rapidly.

The lack of fresh oxygen has you bucking against his hand, choking and sputtering around his cock that rams deeply in your throat but your stomach still flutters with it, lust igniting your loins and limbs tingling with it.

You can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, heart racing in your chest. Your fucking close and he seems to notice, too, his moans barely reaching your ears through the blood pumping and engine roaring. Tangerine nestles his fingers deep deep inside of you, rubbing over your walls and the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes falling shut and moaning against his cock.

It is all too much and your chest heaves as you finally cum, muscles clenching around his fingers, hips stuttering. His dick pulls back a little, tip resting hot and heavy against your tongue and then, his movements still.

"Open up your pretty mouth, doll, lemme see", he rasps, barely keeps an eye out to the street and you comply, fucked out mind making everything a little hazy, a little slow. Your jaw goes slack as you open your mouth, giving him a perfect view of his dick resting on your tongue.

Tangerine looks at you: mascara pooling beneath your eyes, lips swollen and red and jaw wet with spit and then comes too, shoots ropes of hot cum into your mouth. He watches the way it paints your tongue white, some of it landing on your upper lip, slooowly dripping down, running over your chin.

You swallow and then your tongue darts out, licks over your lips and then darts out, licks his cock clean, too.

Slowly, with your mind still foggy and limbs a little heavy already, you get back up. Your fingers brush through his remaining cum on your chin, wiping it away and letting them slip into your mouth, licking them clean. "Jesus, love", Tangerine's voice is a little coarse, gaze darting back and forth between your mouth and the street, as he carefully pulls his fingers out of you and your body closer instead.

You yelp, pressing yourself onto him, of your knees resting between his spread legs. None of you fucking care anymore, lust tugging at your brains dangerously, daringly. His hand, fingers still wet with your juices, brushes over your waist, grabs your ass and you lean in, lick over his throat, tasting his sweat and cologne.

"Can't wait for you to fuck me", you rasp, hands brushing over his chest, his necklace jingling, down down down, hand brushing over his cock and carefully putting it away, his clothing back in place.

Tangerine huffs, google assistant chiming out a direction, indicator clicking loudly as he sets it and then his hand comes up quickly, grabs your chin hard and holds your head in place. You look at him, deer in the headlights, holding your breath and then he's pulling you close, locks his lips with yours. He can taste himself on your tongue licking into your mouth, pulls you close.

You don't know how you made it to the fucking hotel alive, with Tangerine's hands roaming over your body, lips locking occasionally while he was speeding down the streets, cutting corners and red lights.

The two of you barely make it through the lobby and into the elevator, until Tangerine is onto you once more, presses your back flat against the cold, bronze metal. "I'll fuck ya so good, love", his dick is already hard again, pressing against you through the linen of his trousers and the satin of your dress, "'S gon' be all you'll be thinkin'bout for the next weeks." In a little more than an hour you will come to realize that he is right. You will be thinking about it for weeks. But now, there are only his lips roaming over your throat, occupying your mind and letting you drift back to a hazy, lustful state, with his hands feeling up your hips, your waist.

Eventually, the elevator piiings lazily and the two of you rush out it, like you are on the run from your own lust, hand clutching his as you quickly make your way down the hall to your suite. You unlock the door and turn the dimmed lights on inside. The room's just like you left it, guns and cash on the coffee table, soft light coming from the bedroom on the left. The window there is still opened, a soft breeze rolling in through the light curtains.

Tangerine throws the door shut behind himself and immediately grabs you by your waist, pulls you onto him, hand on your back on your ass as he leans down, devours you with a kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth while he manoeuvres you backwards through your suite. Your hands dart out, catching the doorframe of the bedroom and you grab it hard, using it as leverage as you push back against him, your crotch rubbing against his. Tangerine grins against your lips and grabs your hips hard, makes you moan into the kiss.

He breaks it, chest heaving a little. "Fuck, love, imma ruin ya." Your breath hitches at that and your hands let go of the doorframe, wrapping around his neck instead like you're on some sort of fucking autopilot. "Yeah fuck, please", you whisper.

It takes Tangerine a moment, gaze growing a little soft before the beast takes over again, a gleaming dark hue turning the blue into an endless ocean and he hoists you up, carries you over to the bed.

He is carrying you like a caveman would his bagged prey and he tears at your dress just the same, one hand shoving the straps down your shoulders. Then he's onto the zipper, sliiides it down and throws you onto the bed.

You land onto the duvet with a soft thud, tits bouncing a little and his gaze follows the movement hungrily, before he tugs at the hem of your dress, pulls it down and throws it to the ground carelessly.

Tangerine just watches, gaze hungrily moving over your naked form, slooowly starts to undress himself. His slender fingers unbutton the silky shirt, button by button in an agonizingly slow speed. You know he's deliberately taking his time with you and it works, has your body quivering with anticipation and lust, one of your own hands running up your body, cupping your tit. He lifts a brow as he watches you tweaking your nipple and the haughty disdain has your head swimming, legs falling apart. "Please", you whisper, pussy aching for his touch, "--Need you."

The silk falls open, still hugging his shoulder and Tangerine continues watching you, playing with a ring on his finger, just like he's playing with you. It's cruel but it has lust building up in your belly, shooting arousal down between your legs and making fresh wetness pool between your folds in a way that you just know, that his touch will be heavenly.

And yet, impatience taking over, you mewl and in a desperate attempt for any sort of attention - for him to just fucking touch you again - you scramble to your knees, stretching out on the mattress and pressing your body flat onto it, ass high in the air. You know that he'll see it: your wet cunt, glistening in the dim light, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You feel exposed and at his mercy alone, and the degradation and danger of being unarmed like this in the presence of a killer, has your heart racing, thighs rubbing together for any sort of fucking friction.

Tangerine bellows out a laugh, surprised and dark, can't really hide either how turned on he is, and then his hand comes down on your ass. The sound bounces off the walls and has your bods jolting forward, first a gasp and then a moan falling from your lips, hands fisting the sheets. "Ya dirty fuckin' whore", he groans, hand groping your already reddening flesh. You can hear the silk flowing down to the ground and then he is pressing his crotch against you, fine linen against your wet cunt.

It's electrifying, the rather rough material pressing against your soft skin, your slick immediately wetting the fabric as your start to roll your hips against it, rutting over his clothed dick. Tangerine's cock is so so hard, hotly pulsing through the linen and you can feel its curve pressing against your pussy. You whimper, hips stuttering.

"Jesus Christ, love, can feel ya through my fucking pants -- lemme see", Tangerine groans and then grabs your hips hard, stalling your desperate movement, shoving them forward a little. You can feel his gaze dancing over your cunt, hear him whistle lowly, hands spreading your ass cheeks, assessing your slick. One of them comes loose and then --

He gives your cunt a light slap - the slight pain and degradation making your head swim - has you squirming on the mattress, a whiny Daddy, please escaping your lips. Your mind fogs up, all hazy with lust and his perfume, aching your back for him, pressing your chest flat against the sheets.

Tangerine pouts at you, eyes gleaming playfully. "D'you wan'it that bad, love?", and you nod nod nod, wiggling your hips as you chant - a desperate Yes yes yes escaping your lips, muffled by the mattress - hands uselessly darting out for any leverage.

His middle finger runs through your folds and you tremble, goosebumps erupting on your arms, spreading all over your body. He spreads your slick and his other hand comes up, kneads the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks further apart. "Always fuckin' wet f'me, innit? Picture perfect cunt ya got, love."

You mewl, throwing a glance over your shoulder to see him watching your hole clench around nothing. His eyes gleam. "Shit", you huff out as his finger brushes over your clit, feet curling a little and he grins smugly - Bastard - and gives your ass another sharp slap. You groan and then his hands are off you, making work of his trousers.

You watch him get fully undressed and your mouth waters at the sight. Tangerine's body is covered in scars, smaller round ones from bullets and larger, longer ones from knives and nasty fist fights and you want to crawl to him on your knees, kiss and lick them, worship them and him - his body, his tool of death - like he's your very personal reincarnation of Ares.

His dick springs free as he drops his boxers, completely exposing his muscular body to you, dusted on body hair and tattoos and scars scars scars and in the moment, that you can see precum glistening on the tip of his cock, you realize that you had already missed it. You fucking missed his dick. The thought has warmth spreading on your cheeks.

There's a light pat on your hip. "C'mon love, turn around. Wanna see your face while I fuck you nice and proper", he hums and your eyelids flutter, humming deeply in your throat at the proposition, turning around and laying on your back.

The mattress dips as he sinks down on his knees, chest flushed a little - the golden necklace dangling between your bodies - and then he's onto you, crawls over your body like an animal, leaves sloppy kisses on your skin, tongue licking over your nipples, stache tickling.

"Oh fuck", you huff, hands darting out and finding his hair, gently tugging at it. Tangerine's lips move over your throat and he sucks, makingyou gasp, throwing your head back as he marks you up.

"Spread ya legs f'me, sweetie", he rasps against your jaw and you do, knees falling apart. He grabs his dick with one hand, the other one supporting his own weight next to your head, rubs himself along your folds, using your slick as lube. "There ya fuckin' go", he huffs and then the thick head of his cock presses against your hole.

"Fuck, yes", you whimper, hot with anticipation, one hand leaving his hair and clutching around his shoulder. And then, he finally - fucking finally - puuushes in, your hole stretching around his girth a little, dull pain spreading excitement across your body.

Tangerine groans. It's a low and honest sound, has his chest vibrating against yours while he looks down to where your bodies meet. "Shit, fuckin' hell", he says, hand abandoning his dick as he slowly slides into you, fills you up and spreads your walls, grabbing your inner thigh instead. The way he spreads your legs is delicious and you hum, his dick is completely seated inside of you.

He lifts his gaze once more, looks at you. His eyes are dark, a stormy stormy sea, a few loose strands falling into his face, curls of his hair freeing themselves from the hair gel. He looks like a fucking god. "Fuck", you say, lowly, hole fluttering around him, stomach tingling at the sight.

"Ya cunt's so fuckin' tight, love", he growls and you can hear, feel it on your skin, that he is having a hard time holding back, "'S perfect, Jesus Christ."

Tangerine rolls his hips, once, twice and you moan, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. "'S good for ya, too, love?", his nose brushes over yours, lips ghosting over your cheek. "Yeah, fuck", you huff, and then he's onto you, licks over your lips with his tongue and shoves it into your mouth, invites himself in. You lick over it, lips locking with his, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It is a sloppy kiss charged with energy and lust, your hands tugging at his curls, making the thrusts of his dick more feral, as he forces himself in deeper, groaning into your mouth. In return you moan, chest heaving against his, tits rubbing over the muscular skin.

His lips brush over the corner of your mouth, breathes against it, stache tingling a little as they move down to your throat, kissing and nibbling at the skin, marking you up.

"Fuck", you gasp at the stinging sensation, pulling his hair and he groans.

It feels nice; the way he is fucking you - you push away the thought that it's dangerously close to actually making love - the way he feels inside of you, how his body feels against yours, but it's also not enough. You need more.

A whine escapes your mouth, all desperate and needy and breathless and his movements still for a second.

Then, Tangerine looks up at you, dark blue eyes meeting yours. "Tell me what you want", he whispers, hand groping your thigh and dick buried deep deep inside of you. You can feel it twitch inside of you and your breath hitches. "Want -- want you to fuck me", you say quietly, "Like - hard."

"Aint' ya just a fuckin' dream, poppet", he growls and then his lips are unto you once more, licking into your mouth, teeth catching your lower lip; licking and kissing your lips until their sore while picking up a faster rhythm, pounding into you.

Tangerine eventually breaks away from you, leaves you panting and straightens up until he's kneeling between your legs - rolls his hips into you with his dick fucking in and out your hole, accompanied by an obscene squelching sound. One of his hands grabs your thigh hard, rings digging into the flesh, and then he's hoisting it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder and you moan at both: how deep his cock now pushes into you and the way Tangerine looks.

A thin layer of sweat covers his cheeks and his upper body, chest and cheeks flushed, a few strands of hair falling into his face as his brows are furrowed, lips slightly parted. You can hear him breathe heavily, occasionally moaning when your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. He looks like a fucking porn star, with his defined muscles working beneath the skin and the golden jewellery, a soft summer breeze rolling in through the opened window, toying with his hair. Tangerine's gaze is glued to his dick that rhythmically pumps in and out of you, watches the way your juices squelch around the base of his cock, balls slapping against your wet skin.

His free hand runs up your belly and cups one of your tits, squeezes it, rolls the nipple between his fingers - the bracelet around his wrist jingles and the rings are cold against your skin. You hum deeply, breath ragged and fingers clawing at the sheets desperate for any leverage, while his deep thrusts throw you back and forth like a fucking ragdoll, tits bouncing and gasps falling from your lips.

Your mouth falls agape, watching Tangerine through hooded eyes and dark lashes and his gaze crawls up up up your body until it meets yours. It is accompanied by his hand, ditching your tit, and brushing up your neck, cupping your jaw and then falling in the crook beneath it, pressing down. The sudden lack of air has the muscles in your legs tensing and he feels it, too, mischief illuminating his face, his eyes, as you gasp for air. You know he could kill you then and there, watch you as your lights fade out and as fucked up as it is, it has your rutting your hips against him, spurring him on.

Tangerine furrows his brows and picks up a quicker rhythm, hand closing in tighter around your throat, rings pressing down onto your windpipe, and you lay your head back, feeling the stretch as he's choking you. The lack of fresh oxygen has your chest heaving, body surrendering to him and the way his cock pumps into your hole fast and deep, lust igniting your nerves. Tangerine can feel you clenching around his dick, wetting his trimmed pubic hair as you squirt, slick dripping down his balls and staining the sheets below. The beast inside him roars, thrums against the bars of its cage, his ribs and he sees your eyelids fluttering, cheeks prettily reddened.

"Atta girl", he groans, fingers giving in a little and you suck in a few deep breaths, before he presses them back down again. It's too soon and your hands dart up, clutching in around his wrist, bracelet jostling and clinking under your touch.

The cage breaks.

Suddenly, quickly, with the force and speed of a predatory animal, Tangerine lets go off your throat and flicks his wrist, catches both of yours in an iron grip and pins them above your head, down onto the mattress. His body follows the stretch of yours, bending over you, holding his own weight up with a hand that crashes down next to your chest. He is feral and it should scare you, especially as air floods your system again, lifts your mind out of your foggy state just a little, but it just doesn't no fight or flight kicking in. The way Tangerine hovers over you now has your leg on his shoulder bend, too, allowing his dick to fuck into you deeper, delicate pain from the stretch of your back igniting your loins.

Ragged breaths escape his throat while he pounds, ruts into you and you lose yourself in both, the sound of his utter pleasure and the way your body feels: on fire, chest tight with your approaching orgasm and raw lust, pure want, that chews up the ends of your nerves, has your limbs tingling.

Tangerine's hand keeps your wrists in that iron grip of his as he rolls his hips into you, dick hitting your cervix, his fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists. You throw your head back, gasping with each of his thrusts and his eyes follow your movement hungrily, groans as your eyes roll back. There's a strong pull in your abdomen and your hole flutters around his cock, his balls slap against your wet skin.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you whine, high pitched moans falling from your hips as he ruts into you, "I'm gonna cum, oh shit --"

Tangerine's eyes fall shut, a throaty moan erupting deep from his chest when your muscles tighten around him. "Yeah, shit love -- that's it, fuckin' cum f'me", he rasps, forehead coming down to a rest on your shoulder.

And you do after a few more of his deep thrusts, whining and legs kicking a little, shakes erupting in your chest as you press against him. Everything goes white as you ride your orgasm out on his dick, moaning and gasping as he does, too, shoots thick and hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls and pulsing deep inside of you.

Tangerine moans, coarse and raw and his chest heaves, presses his nose into the crook of your neck - but you barely notice it, too far gone, mouth agape and legs shaking.

It takes you a while to come down again, eyelids fluttering open lazily. There's a hand on your cheek, a deep hum near your ear. "Welcome back, love", Tangerine says quietly and then, "Ya did so good for me, eh?" You mewl, stretching your legs a little. Your whole body feels sore, his cum leaking out of you and into the sheets. All you want to so is to get up and clean yourself up, but your legs are so so heavy and you just feel so so tired. Tangerine seems to notice, too.

"You stay here, darlin', imma get you something to clean you up", Tangerine says, voice coarse but soft and he gets up, just as a fresh breeze rolls in through the curtains, blows them up and sends them flying a little. The forecast prognosed heavy rainfall for next week. The air already smells like it a little - damp and mushy.

The breeze cools your sweaty skin, has you sighing with content while you watch Tangerine's naked form as he is walking to your bathroom, muscles in his legs and butt working nicely with each step.

***

It has been over a week and this is his third night. It starts to feel like a fucking stake out.

He feels incredibly silly. Silly for coming here again. Silly for lying to Lemon - again. Silly for ordering two Margaritas. Silly for drinking both.

Tangerine leans against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the sticky wood, smoking a cigarette. The band, same musicians, play a soft and melancholic tango. The air had cooled down a little after yesterday’s rain and maybe, just maybe, that'll be the summer's first soft goodbye before it will go down in a last great huzzah with a hot Indian summer before autumn takes over the city.

He wonders if he will still be in Amsterdam by then, if he and Lemon will watch the leaves fall. There is an offer for a job in Japan and he is considering to take it. He'll have to talk to Lemon about it.

"Anything else for you, Sir?", the bartender asks. And Tangerine nods, orders another Margarita. The bartender takes the empty glasses away and he stares at the wood. Oh, he's just so bloody fucking silly, isn't he?

He takes another drag from his cigarette, shifts his weight from one foot to another and rubs his eyes. She won't come. He knows.

She just won't. Tangerine did have a suspicion who she was, has heard stories about her father and he knew, as soon as he had laid eyes on her, that he was in big, big trouble. He wonders if he had already taken her away, wanting better for his daughter than a no-good ordinary killer. Did not want the danger in his life that came with a man, who potentially could be holding his daughter for ransom at some point or worse, could get her killed.

He gets it, though. He would probably do just the same.

"There you go, Sir", the bartender says and Tangerine just nods, suddenly feels very very exhausted and just barely notices that something, someone is moving next to him.

"Can you still afford to buy me one, too?", a familiar voice says, "Or did you burn it all on car insurance?" He chuckles, feels a sudden burst of energy surging through his veins, straightens back up and slowly turns around to her.

"Wasn't my fault, 'prick was driving like a fuckin' loony."

She chuckles and the noise makes his head swim, a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach. He wants to tear his chest open and claw at it, rip it out. That is how much it fucking scares him. How much she scares him.

"Wasn't sure if you were coming back", she says, casually, calmly like she thought about it so much she's just used to it by now.

"I'm not leavin' that soon, love", he says, signals the bartender that another Margarita is in order.

"Where you going?"

"Tokyo, love. Probably -- most likely."

"Come back in one piece then", her smile is genuine. And he knows, that he just has to now.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

NSFW Alphabet - Sinclair Bryant

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sweet and gentle. He’ll hold you as you come down from your high, running his fingers through your hair and giving you gentle kisses. Later, you’ll cuddle up against his side with his arm around your shoulder as he reads. If you ask him he’ll read out loud for you and you fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s not actually given it much thought for himself before. Maybe his hair? For you though, he loves your waist. His hands always find their way to your waist, his hands resting against your hip or arms wrapped around your middle.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's a pretty clean person in that regard, he likes to come deep inside you. He dreams about having a baby with you one day too, which only makes him want to be inside you more.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’d love to see you do a strip tease for him, but he doesn’t know how to ask you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's decently experienced. But he's not had many partners before and is more on the vanilla side.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Side by side, facing each other. He likes being wrapped up with you, being able to look in your eyes and have as much skin contact as he can.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

You can make each other laugh very easily. Something like fumbling with clothes or stumbling into something while making out or trying to get undressed will start you both with a fit of the giggles.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his personal grooming, but he's not overly concerned with it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's a very romantic person. Making love with you is something special and wonderful to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

If he's been apart from you for a while, he will. Or if you ask him to while you're in bed so you can watch him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Two words - Food kink. From kissing you at breakfast to taste the jam on your lips, to in bed licking chocolate sauce off your breasts, you are his favourite desert.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed, on the couch, in the shower. The most adventurous place was under a willow tree by the river.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you're just at home being comfortably domestic, like cooking dinner or curled up reading a book. It makes him so happy, and part of him was afraid he'd never be so happy, he wants to just lavish you with all the love he feels. Also, how you listen when he starts rambling about something. He knows he waffles on and is used to people tuning him out, but you actually listen, you find him interesting, and it makes him want to actually stop talking and kiss every inch of you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He'd never share you with anyone else (not that you'd want too anyway). And nothing public either.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn't mind receiving, but he really likes giving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual, all the way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers being able to take his time and be comfortable, but you've indulged in quickies a few times. Usually in the shower before he goes to work.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's up for a bit of experimentation. His curiosity will have him trying something at least once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Usually once is enough to satisfy you both, but you can go two or three times if you're both in the mood.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You've played around with vibrators sometimes. Either he would use it on you, or you'd use it on yourself while he watched.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not really a teaser, not deliberately anyway. When he's taking his time with kisses and touches, it can feel like teasing to you, but he's just enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not really loud. Gasps and moans.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's got some sub tendencies, and he turns to putty in your hands when you get playfully commanding. One time you told him to "get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use" and he almost tripped over a coffee table to get to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like, 7in and decently thick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty medium. Like, thoughts of sex don't occupy his mind constantly, and sometimes he's happy with just kissing and holding you. But when he's in the mood he can be very eager.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Usually, it takes him a little while to fall asleep afterwards, unless you've really worn him out.

#sinclair bryant x reader #sinclair bryant #alan rickman #n s f w alphabet #Some sexy time with our favourite ray of sunshine who deserves the world

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Wilbert's Worst

Right, so I really was open to having my mind changed on The Worst One but nobody’s argument has budged me.

I was going to write a complete, balanced essay on The Worst W. Awdry Book, but I’m a) mired in the research phase (hey if anyone knows someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of Tom and Jerry hit me up, for real) and b) right now I wanna talk about the characters and their Beloved Dynamics instead. 

So I'm just gonna get this out of the way so I can post the poll and move on to answering fun asks and watching Tom and Jerry in peace. Behold: a salty and unbalanced review.

Wilbert’s biggest failure of a children’s storybook? 

Henry the Green Engine 

Ohhh… because of the, uh, ra —?

Because of the racism, yes!

Oh. You do know that since 1972 they’ve republished it without the n-slur? 

Good for them. Two things: 

1. I know it used to be there, I’m never able to read it without knowing it was there in the first edition.

2. I consistently try, when ranking the books, to consider them in the context in which they came out. Because of this, I don’t like using “things that happened later” (like a new character never being properly used again or whatever) against the book. This helps me evaluate the author’s successes and failures against what they were trying to achieve when they wrote it vs what I would most want (blorbo content). It helps me not bring to bear the whole weight of fanon and fandom on a text that should be able to stand or fall on its own. Tl;dr I try to read the books like a guy who picked it up in 1951, or whatever. 

And yeah, if I’d bought this when it came out it would have had the slur. I’m going to judge it accordingly. 

Look, racism is bad, no argument, but does that mean the book as a whole must be condemned? 

Yeah, I think the slur and the “aaaand suddenly, blackface! heeheehee” bullshit fuck over the entire book, game over. Go directly to jail, do not collect $200. 

The Railway Series is not a work of high art or deep thorny complex literature. The books are meant for children — small children, at that. Children small enough to get bedtime stories read to them. The main goal of each book (especially this early on — you do have to manage secondary priorities like “pleasing the long-time fanbase” the longer you go, but right now we’re only 6 books into the series) is to create a happy imaginary world to enhance childhoods and family lives… to impart to other parents and kids a similar cosy happiness to that the author and his own kids enjoyed when he was workshopping/drafting the stories for them. When we say “children’s book” we really do mean little’uns — these average 1.25 full-color illustrations per page!

And these books sold in large numbers. This means it’s a certainty that somewhere in 1951 there was a Black family who owned the whole series, who went out to the shops, whose kid was like “ooh! Henry gets a book, neat…,” who like everyone else enjoyed the wild ride of Henry’s inspection and coal and wreck and rebuild… only to get verbally spat on one page from the end. 

Real mood-killer there. Epic fail, as the cool kids used to say in my youth. 

All right, fine, cool kids never said that. Anyway, statistically speaking there was certainly even more than one family that got that experience. Not to mention the non-Black families who even in 1951 were like “... wtf? i’d smack my kid if they ever said a word like that around me, geez. no.” Just a lot of people who had the light the book was kindling in them snuffed out all at once. 

You can actually be totally racist and your book not commit creative suicide on the penultimate page! Awdry flubbed his job of 'bestselling books-for-six-year-olds' here. Creative failure. Unforced error. Automatic zero. 

But times were different then, you have to consider it in the context of the time. 

1951 U.K. was not the nadir of multiracial equality or Black power, but jfc. I can assure you that over 99% of children’s books published that year in the Anglosphere managed to not use the n-slur. 

All right, all right. That was bad. But this feels off-topic. If you had never known about what used to be “Henry’s Sneeze,” would you still rank the entire book as dead last in the Wilbert Awdry corpus? 

Not dead last, but it is not a strong book. “Coal” and “The Flying Kipper” are super-interesting as material for Henry, but after that the book kind of falls off a cliff; the intrigue drops dramatically. The railway incidents chosen to make stories of are all solid choices, but it was not only “Sneeze” where Awdry’s handling of the material feels clumsy and weird. (And I’m not even talking here of the “heehee blackface — ain’t i a stinker?” gag in “Sneeze.”) 

But… “The Flying Kipper”? C’mon. It’s a superb story and no book that contains it can be the absolute worst in the series. 

“TFK” remains easily the best single TVS episode ever – but a lot of that is down to Britt and David’s artistry and judgment. 

Don’t get me wrong, a full-on railway wreck makes interesting material. But I don’t think the book does nearly as much with it as it could (and I’m trying sooooo hard here to forget about the amazing TVS adaptation, as I think it REALLY shows Awdry up. Even so, the storytelling here is surprisingly tepid and low-stakes). I get that Awdry probably wanted to lean into the comic angle and not make Henry’s condition afterwards seem too grave, in order to ensure the material wasn’t too dark for his young audience? (*mutters* again, a level of tender consideration for his readers’ youth that went right out the window when it came to small Black kids, evidently coz he couldn’t imagine that they read) Understandable, laudable — but if he outright refuses* to make the wreck too dramatic or scary then, well, then the wreck isn’t real scary or dramatic. And it can’t save the rest of the book from its flaws. 

*For all I know it could have been the publishers who insisted that the wreck be made preschooler-safe, that’s possible (although it’s also consistent with Awdry’s brand of humor and his overall low degree of emotionalism in his writing). Either way, though, the end result book is what it is and it will be judged accordingly. 

In addition to not being as exciting as many remember... @trainsupessandhuntresses asked me once if I thought some of Awdry's stories were "mean-spirited." I had to assent vigorously. And a surprisingly high proportion of those "mean" moments are in Henry the Green Engine? For some reason? It’s not just the racism. Awdry was not in the game to give Henry a deserved happy ending, he’d wanted to kill him off (the fuck?) and when his publishers prevented him (I don’t say this often, especially since I love how salty the Awdrys get about their publishers, but this in case good job, publishers!!) he wrote “TFK” with the primary motivation of giving Henry a new engine basis. Any soft or hearty emotions we get out of the deal are a side-effect — the only emotion that was fueling Awdry as he wrote this was spite, spite and a weird resentment towards his poor, long-suffering, invaluable illustrator. (I don’t blame Awdry for being frustrated that the engine illustrations were continually inaccurate or confusing, but I do think it’s weird to read all this great Henry material knowing that it was written with such poor grace.) 

So his ‘happy Henry’ stuff feels perfunctory; his Percy interlude is just brutal (why did you have to drag Percy into Henry’s book purely to give him a fuck-up, a scolding, and a messy dunce cap?); Gordon’s savaging of Henry for being too happy after recovering from a near-death experience is such an incredibly low point for Gordon that it’s hard for me to accept it as canon (there’s being proud, boastful, and self-absorbed, and then there’s being the straight-up raccoon dumpster fire Gordon is in that scene). Oh, and I think “call the police [local constabulary, doesn’t bear firearms]” woulda probably a less reckless way of dealing with the rock-throwing youths than the sneeze of hot locomotive ashes, which of course the Fat Controller doesn’t like, that shit coulda been real dangerous! Mind, there are small rays of kindness throughout that do get me (the interactions between Henry and his crew feeling to me the least perfunctory and most heartfelt), but this is overall such a mean-spirited book. God. It starts off with such a gentle story (almost a non-story, if you’re in it purely for the “railway incidents” game and not character drama), but in short order the vibes just sorta suck. At least in other RWS books, when the vibes are off, they’re usually off near the beginning and then improve by the end. This one gets worse as it goes on. Oof. Don’t like that. 

Also, the last page is sooooo lame. I suspect the publisher strong-armed Awdry into writing most of it so that at least the slur wasn’t on the last page of the book... and if Awdry had any idea of how much he’d just empowered Henry and all his fans in this book he shouldn’t have found it hard to find 50 extra words to sum things up. As it was, he’s just filling space and running out the clock, lol. Lame wrap-up. Boring. As usual when it comes to every little thing about this book, Britt and David closed this up better (mind, their closer – “He had taught Gordon and silly boys a lesson, with a whistle and a sneeze” – also sucked. But at least it was blessedly short.)

Didn’t you once list HtGE on a list of your favorite Wilbert Awdry books? 

I did list it as one of the books that “at one time or another” have been my favorite in the series. Unfortunately in the case of HtGE, that was back when I really couldn’t read a story that I knew from the TVS without mentally substituting the adaptation into my brain as I read… largely overriding the actual text. Plus, everything I knew from TVS as a kid kind of automatically got a halo effect. Plus, I was super into Henry’s arc. 

The first time I read HtGE after calming down and actually reading all the books as books... massive disappointment. There is such a gap there between what I'd thought the book said (all our incredible fanon work overanalyzing and headcanoning Henry and building this beautiful fantasy arc about disability!) vs. what it actually said (limp and careless writing, mean vibes, airbrushed n-slur, bad aftertaste). 

I do think there is some stuff about the development of Awdry’s storytelling technique here that is interesting (again, Tom and Jerry superfans reading this, please shoot me a message!) but it doesn’t counteract everything else. 

At least we’re over the racism stuff? 

Nah, I’m not over it, actually. 

#showed his whole ass #an rws book shouldn’t leave a nasty taste in your mouth #but! here we are #okay this rant was not as short as i thought it'd be #but again. there will be a proper analysis in the fullness of time. #henry the green engine (rws) #rws discussion #racism tw #slur mention tw

[sgiandubh]

Our Lady of the Earrings

Almost 3 AM and as always before any flight/train (but mercifully not when driving myself) trip I am struck by a severe case of Reisefieber, which translates to almost complete insomnia, in this noble house.

Thanks to one of @bat-cat-reader's Anons, I immediately went to watch C & Alfred Enoch's seven minute segment on The Booker Prize 2023 Livestream you can watch, too, on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/live/OgIGnfxISk0?si=nfUz7KoCFgEzQmQB

Some quick observations:

Not one, but two new ear piercings I took the gracious pain of documenting (sorry for the thumbnail size, it's the best I could do with the primitive technical means readily available) :

What would that be? Punk C? How could that even be? A speculative coin dropped: last time, it was cutting her hair, but now I see a body modification impulse. I am still pondering this one and I have to say I am torn between a simple fashionista reflex and something deeper than that (new beginnings? healing? letting go?). Either way, I am not in a hurry, because I know dots will eventually connect.

Thoughts?

Also, the rings. I have never been paying much attention to that particular merry-go-round, but anyways, for the fandom pundits, there goes:

Because I am not an Our Lady of the Rings kremlinologist, I shall leave it here as is. By all means, do comment, if you feel inspired.

Onwards to content. You know, by now, that I am a book freak (after all, my fandom journey started with a bookshelf!), so I listened very carefully. Her answer to the comment prompt on Paul Lynch's Prophet Song was, I am sorry to say, so restrained it sounded almost cookie-cut. She mentioned the tension of the quoted and performed (almost to perfection, I have to say) passage of the book, but little else and it left me still hungry for more. I mean, when you love a book, you have this urge to talk about it at length. She was almost subdued, even if I am absolutely sure she read it and liked it.

By contrast, Alfred Enoch (🎵it's a small world, after all 🎶) was totally chill. I shamelessly skipped, yet couldn't help but notice the contrast.

Second question was very interesting: 'what books made you fall in love with reading?' I always find this very telling about people, because anything related to books is very personal. We are not only the sum of our choices, but also the sum of all the books we read. Something C apparently knows very well, too, because she elegantly sashayed and said absolutely nothing about her first love book. She simply mentioned her mother taking her to the library, from a very early age and how all these books were windows which opened on The World and finally how seminal this experience is for someone growing up in a small village. But no particular book made it to her lips and again, I found it very curious. I am nobody and I can still quote not one, but two books that changed my whole world (and then I never looked back): Alice in Wonderland and The Wind in the Willows. It's not that she couldn't, it's that she wouldn't. So, for Christ's sake, Mrs. B, stop punishing your fandom like that! There's nothing wrong about sharing your joy of books, it really isn't!

Third and last question: 'are you a Kindle reader? do you like a physical book? audio books? what's your favorite medium for reading?' I could have bet handsome money she was not a Kindle reader, for obvious reasons (cannot remember/retain information), but I found endearing the almost sneaky confession she needed her couch and snacks for a good reading session (same, same and since forever: I grinned). She buys a lot of books, 'and then they sit and look at me and it takes a certain time to get in'. Same as Enoch, who wondered what the Japanese word for 'buying books for the simple pleasure of seeing them pile up' was (it is, correct me if I am wrong, tsundoku).

One of the other people talking about reading and books was Dua 'Behave' Lipa. I am legit howling like the cretin I am, but the project she supports is about bringing Booker Prize books to women in prison. And this, my friends, is absolutely extraordinary.

Also, no red carpet pictures on Getty. The only one who made it was Alfred Enoch:

And somebody else seems very interested by Getty, lately (as of yesterday, to be more exact):

But surely, that is only a coincidence.

PS: it has been asked in the comments thread chez Bat. C's pinky ring is Cartier's Trinity. My favorite of them all, spare my big butterfly 1925 chevalière (which is a Chaumet, by the way).

[Edit]: I am told she had the three ear piercings for years. My bad. I can't know just about everything. Thank you @crispyflapdeputyflower for the info. The rest is fresh, though!

[woah-uhuh-uhuh-uhuh]

Squip Contagion Theory

A theory about what squips really “want” and how they reproduce! I’m sure people have already looked at every angle of this stuff back in The Olden Days of bmc fandom, but what the heck, I had fun putting it into words anyway. Forewarning that a decent amount of it is based in speculation rather than evidence. 

As usual, I bolded all the major stuff + tldr at the start because I talk too much lmao

tl;dr

Like most other organisms on this planet, a squip’s primary goal is to reproduce. (Which makes sense - things that reproduce more are just going to outnumber things that don’t. Especially when squip reproduction directly translates to human monetary profit).

As a potential host, you’re made to feel worthless in some area of your life (what I term the “axis of torment”) by a current host, until you’re psychologically ready to buy and obey a squip. 

The squip then compels you to make other people worthless in the same area of life, until the squip (as it has been marketed to you) seems like a natural solution to their problems. 

You might then offer the squip to your victims because your own squip encourages you to (as Rich does to Jeremy) and/or you come to believe that it just… really is the natural solution to their problems. (Jeremy to Michael: “I think you’re pissed I have one and you don’t!”)

This produces a chain of people who all (A) have squips, (B) produce more squip-hosts by ‘infecting’ (squipping) the particularly susceptible people around them (creating more squip demand → more squip production, yada yada yada), and (C) hold similar beliefs about the purpose of squips (cool pills, smart pills — and ostensibly anything else a brain pill could do, like “fixing” speech impediments as they mention in the book).

(cont)

Squips as symbiotes

The question I started with: Why does Rich’s squip decide that Jeremy needs a squip? And why now instead of earlier?

I mean, it’s odd, right? The squip’s primary goal is to improve people’s lives. Using Rich as a host/avatar, the squip makes choices that improve Rich’s life, and then essentially recommends itself to Jeremy in order to improve his life, too. That all makes sense!  …Except wait, if that was always the point, then why did it also decide to beat the crap out of Jeremy for over a year in the interim?

I’ve been rolling around the theory that squips don’t actually have a strong directive to improve people’s social standing or intelligence or anything like that — like most other organisms, all they really want to do is reproduce. 

If you think about it, they’re not that dissimilar to a virus in terms of their reproductive cycle. The only way a virus can reproduce is by taking over the cells of other organisms and forcing them to manufacture more viruses.* Squips need humans — not only to produce more squips, but also to provide their habitat (i.e. the human brain) and possibly their power source, and grant them physical presence in the world (if you’ve read Animorphs, you probably know what I’m talking about here). Squips are obligate parasites,** and humans are their host species. 

*[I’m not a virologist. This is probably an egregious generalization.] **[i.e. parasites that can’t survive outside of a host. Also, parasite is a loaded word here but I can’t get into that.]

Obviously, the easiest way to ensure the future of squipkind would be to “poison the water supply” (a la The Play), or at least squip a lot of people who are able to manufacture squips. Why they don’t just do that is definitely relevant (my personal theory is actually just the same explanation they use in — you guessed it — Animorphs, which posits that voluntary hosts are easier to control).

But I don’t really have time to dive into that here, so I just want to talk about the more subtle, deliberate tactic they use instead. Under squip contagion theory, squips prefer to select specific people and individually prepare them to become hosts.

Chain of torment: Rich → Jeremy

Rich’s squip torments Jeremy until he’s completely lost all sense of self worth, and then when he finally hits rock bottom — look at that, I’ve got just the thing! Just the thing to fix exactly the problem that I personally gave you! Crazy how that works out. 

…And it’s weird that it’s marketed like that to Jeremy, right? As a coolness pill? At least according to Michael, other people have been using it for intelligence/academics — and that’s just on top of his other amazing argument that didn’t get enough credit in the script honestly: (“You really think its primary function is to get you LAID? … of all possible applications for such a mind-blowingly advanced technology, you ever wonder what it’s doing inside of YOU?”) Certainly, it could be a catch-all “pill that fixes your life.” But for what it’s worth, scary stock boy seems to believe it’s specifically a coolness pill, too. (J: “How did you know why I’m here?” / SSB: “Just look at you, kid.”) 

I actually think the squips are just creating chains of customers, each tormenting the next on some axis of jealousy (like coolness or success) and then offering the squip as a solution to that jealousy. So by necessity, the next customer has to want the squip for the same reason you did, because that’s the only axis you can torment them on — the same one the squip has improved for you. This creates different “strains” of marketing. 

WOW friend’s brother has specifically been told that he’s an idiot (ostensibly by society, since they invoke grades, but obviously I like to imagine a squip was involved lol), and he thinks he’s buying a “pill that makes you smarter.” 

Rich(‘s squip) makes him popular, which makes Jeremy feel unpopular, so he must market the squip as a “popularity pill.” 

Axis of torment: Jeremy → Michael & Brooke

But not just a popularity pill. Rich SPECIFICALLY markets the squip as a pill that makes you feel seen — not just a blip, or a guy nobody even remembers going to their school. And then, well, what does Jeremy(‘s squip) proceed to do to Michael and Brooke…?

I’ll admit, it’s not the strongest theory, but I do think it’s an interesting framework in light of how Jeremy’s squip went “fuck this guy in particular” and decided to bring Michael to his absolute breaking point, to make him “wish [he] was never born.”* For just this brief moment, he’s finally reached Jeremy levels of disregard for his own identity. Because like Jeremy and pre-squip Rich, Michael has quite LITERALLY become invisible.

*[And yeah, I know this was partially unsquipped Jeremy’s doing, but I can’t even pretend to believe that this isn’t exactly what the squip would want him to do anyway.]

(Also, I know this is debatably to separate Jeremy from the Red? I won’t pretend I have a brilliant argument against that, because it’s a really fair point. But just as a thought, I also don’t think that was the most surefire way to eliminate Red from the equation.)

But hey, you know what’d actually be great for that? What could really turn things around for you, Michael? Hey, you know what could help you not be a loner and a stoner and a loser who drives a PT Cruiser? It’s like, this crazy thing you’ve probably never even heard of. Really obscure stuff. Yeah, it’s from Japan actually?

On Brooke: there was actually… no coolness-related reason to specifically target this girl who got cheated on, and then try to make Jeremy “cheat” on her. Is that really supposed to make him look cool? Even if it had gone as planned, it would’ve still just gotten half the cool kids in school to absolutely fucking hate him!

(Oh yeah, and also make Brooke feel completely worthless. But I’m sure that’s just collateral damage. I mean, it’s not like we have anything to gain from making some kid feel unseen and undesirable. Especially not when she lives in such close emotional proximity to two different squip hosts who are actively doing better in that department. Just a shame, really.)

And a final bit of anecdotal evidence, this time for Jenna: (JH: “That’s sad, what should I do?” SQ: “You should ignore her.”) Much like Michael and Brooke, here’s another kid on the margins of the social sphere. Why not make her feel just a little more invisible?

end note

// If you want a conclusion paragraph go read the TLDR again :P

Tysm for reading!!!! I know at heart the squip is just a total plot device, but it’s fun to get into the scifi lol. If you have your own theories feel free to share!! I know this is not the most solid interpretation out there :P

(Now excuse me while I try very hard to not write an Animorphs AU. Can’t believe K.A. Applegate single-handedly invented the idea of organisms that enlist down-on-their-luck people to take them into their brains and control what they do. Good for her.)

#sorry for 2 huge metas in one day. i just remembered i had this sitting in my google doc from like 4 days ago lmao #bmc #be more chill #rich goranski #jeremy heere #be more chill musical #my posts #posts #text #meta #my meta #fan theory #rich #jeremy #brooke #squip #michael #jenna #like a little #id put this in the ani tag but id feel bad for the fans with better taste than me sjdlkf #obviously though michael would be jake berenson and jeremy would be a version of tom berenson that is not related to michael #and chloe would be rachel and brooke would be cassie #and rich would be tobias and jake dillinger would be marco or david #idk who jenna would be but ax is the only one left so him ig #except if jeremy was in the plot then hed be ax and jenna could be aftran or ket #guys i promise im not going to write an animorphs au pinky swear

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 30

“Cashew. Stay still for a moment.”

The time has come.

My sluggish body which had been lazily lying on top of the sawdust to enjoy the warm light of the electric lamp was helplessly lifted by Kyle’s rough hands.

He picked me up more carefully than usual and took my measurements with a tape measure he got from who-knows-where.

―Squeak. (Sigh.)

I stretched out my arms and watched Kyle work with full concentration. His hands and arms were wrapped in bandages and yet on his day off, he was doing this instead of resting.

Just rest. Stay lying down on your bed.

I burrowed myself among the yarn and, with a sour expression on my face, read the book Kyle laid out, <Try making one yourself! 79 styles of hamster clothes>.

Well, I read it and closed my eyes shut in cringe.

The outfit Kyle chose to make was a pink cape with a large strawberry embroidered on the back. I turned my head to try to pretend I didn’t see it.

I knew it. I shouldn’t have given him this book. At the very least, I should’ve looked over it before giving it to him.

At that time, I was fooled by the viral marketing of the system that said [You can keep fluffy hamster clothes in your inventory and use them at your disposal!].

[d=====(￣▽￣*)b]

Why are you so happy.

I huffed and kicked towards the system window. Kyle must’ve thought I was fighting with the air, so he stopped for a moment and gently stroked my body.

“Wait a bit even if you’re bored. I’ll finish this up quickly.”

And then I was given an almond.

With a sigh, I laid down on my side and watched Kyle while nibbling on the almond.

‘Well. It’s already happened, so what can I do anyways.’

When I asked the system, it said that if I used ‘Summon’ to turn into a human, the clothes would also grow bigger to suit me. Anyways, isn’t it better to wear at least a cloak than to be naked when you’re in a hurry?

The problem was Kyle’s crafting abilities.

‘……Is that really clothes? Not something else?’

I scrunched my face as I watched him make what looked like a dish scrub. The dishes would become so clean if I used that. Anyways, it meant that I couldn’t wear that. 

Then, a knock and the voice of a knight came from outside the door.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

“No. Don’t come in.”

Kyle raised his voice as his fingers slipped. The large door slightly opened a crack before closing again.

“……Are you busy at the moment?”

“Coming into the study is prohibited unless someone has died. Do not come to me for trivial reasons!”

Kyle’s voice was firm.

‘Why are you talking like that? You’re just knitting hamster clothes.’

Even if it’s you, I bet you don’t want your subordinates to see this, huh…….

The knight outside raised his voice sharply and shouted, “Yes sir!” before walking away.

With that, it should be silent without anyone else’s disturbance for a while. The poor knight would tell everyone in the castle to not go into the study even if they’re dying.

I scratched my stomach and checked the system window. Kyle continued to concentrate on knitting.

[Currently Possessing Hearts ｜ ❤×14]

Your skills are atrocious but as long as you are enjoying it…

‘Your happiness will soon be my happiness, I suppose.’

As the ball of yarn grew smaller and smaller, the number of Hearts increased. I buried myself into the pile of yarn and fell asleep due to the warmth.

The system window flashed in my blurred vision.

[Kyle Jane Meinhardt. Approximately 50 days left from the expected time of death.]

I jumped when I saw the previous 15 days increased by over a month. I stared at it blankly and then slowly closed my eyes again.

50 days isn’t long either, but at least we would get through this winter. Long enough to see the spring in this desolate North together with him.

*

When I woke up, I was in the hamster house.

I yawned lazily while stroking my pressed cheeks from lying down on it for too long. I checked my body.

‘Whew…….’

Luckily, he didn’t make me wear anything while I was asleep.

It seemed he finished making the clothes before I fell asleep, but didn’t make me wear it due to its poor quality. I patted my chest in relief and sat on the swing.

‘The problem is the Miracle Points…….’

I opened the system window and checked the amount of points I had.

[Current Miracle Value 19.0%]

‘I sure used a lot.’

I sighed.

With this, ‘Summon’ was only an hour long. It would have to be at least two hours for me to use it comfortably…… just how exactly did I go around with 30 minutes in the past? I’m like a frog who can’t imagine what it was like to not be able to hop around on land when it was just a tadpole……

[=3 =3 =3]

I know. I know. I just ran around back then.

The first time I stole Kyle’s shirt and the second time I wore a maid outfit. Nobody knew about the shirt, but even Kyle found out that I stole a maid outfit. And to mistakingly make myself known as a pet pervert……

―…….

I let out a single tear drop as I turned my head up towards the ceiling.

Thinking back, wasn’t the dish scrub Kyle made actually luxurious piece of clothing personally made by the Grand Duke? Even if I wouldn’t know which hole to fit my arms through. Even if the neck was so tight I could barely breathe.

……Never mind. It’s not okay.

I shook my head to chase away the random thoughts. That’s not what was important now.

―Squeak! (My Miracle Points!)

That’s the problem!

[＼（〇_ｏ）／]

I ignored the surprised system and got off the swing. Then I paced around the hamster house to think.

In the first place, saving a person’s life wasn’t the only miracle that existed in this world.

I was too focused on increasing Kyle’s lifespan that I didn’t notice. The number went up when I made the relationship between him and Sen closer.

In other words, the points would go up if the future changes for the better.

If death was the fate of all living beings, then the least we could do is to choose to live a better life.

I hugged a doll Kyle gave me and laid down together with it.

[_(:з)∠)_]

No matter how much I think about it, I wouldn’t be able to come to a conclusion.

It was during times like this that we must resort to magic.

### Not actual magic, but a chant to avoid responsibilities

I’ll leave tomorrow’s problems to tomorrow’s me.

Even if there were no solutions now, if you continue to push forward and live on, things would always work out some way or another. People who failed to do so would fall, just like the people of this land.

In <Winter’s Heart>, the Blake estate slowly went into decline after losing Kyle.

The surviving demonic beasts caused the people to leave the estate in fear and the supply routes cut off, making it a land near impossible to live in.

What was it? There was a description said by the people who left the Blake estate in the second half of the novel. It was…….

[An abandoned castle haunted by frost ghosts. That was what people called the frozen castle.]

That’s right. A castle haunted by ghosts.

I raised my head and took a look around the warm interior. I could feel the sincerity of the people who cared for this castle everywhere I looked.

Now that I think of it, even Sen and her colleagues seemed to enjoy working at the castle. Kyle was not an overpowering monarch, but rather, someone who was like family. Kyle, the maids, the knights, and all the other workers of this castle.

That was why I was more concerned. If I failed to save Kyle, what would happen to all these people?

“Sigh…….”

I scratched the back of my head and walked along the corridor.

I wondered if I grew attached to this place after spending time here. I wished for the people here to not only rely on Kyle, but to also find a way to survive the winters even without Kyle.

That way, even if the central pillar collapsed, the rest of the pillars would not collapse. Of course, I planned to save Kyle at all costs too.

“Whew. Catching this took a long time.”

“It’s difficult to catch a flying demonic beast.”

As I walked down the hallway, I came face-to-face with soldiers holding bird-like beasts in their hands.

“Oh! It’s the demonic beast specialist! Are you feeling alright?”

“Huh? Oh yes, yes! I’m alright. I’m feeling better than ever, in fact.”

“I’ve heard you returned but…… wow, to actually survive the fall from a cliff like that is incredible.”

I was confused for a moment since I couldn’t recognize them due to the dust covering all over them. Having a closer look, I saw that they were one of the new knights who had gone on the reconnaissance.

“Are you returning from somewhere?”

“We came back from hunting demonic beasts. They weren’t particularly dangerous, but they were still a bother to the village…….”

One of the knights held up the beast in their hands for me to see. A plump body with white feathers..

‘Hmm.’

So, it’s a duck.

No matter how I look at it…… it’s a duck.

They say it’s a demonic beast, but to me it was just a plump duck.

Wait. ……ducks?

“Wait, hold on. What do you plan to do with that?”

“Umm…… I suppose we would just bake or fry it and then eat it?”

Bake? Fry? Not boiling it to warm yourself up with a nice hot soup?

Now that they mentioned it, everything here was either baked or fried. They were delicious, but at the same time they were too oily. In the Blake estate where the temperature was low all year round, won’t soup dishes be a better choice? Were there no soup recipes here?

“Please give that to me. I will cook it for you.”

“……Yes?”

I guided the two dirty knights to the kitchen and rolled up my sleeves after receiving permission to use the kitchen from the maids.

I had a whole 7 years of experience living alone. I could easily make some baeksuk in an instant.

### Korean dish where a whole chicken seasoned with rice and medicinal herbs (in this case a duck) is braised

I took a knife and cut off the duck’s neck. Then, I prepped everything I needed to be able to put the duck into a boiling pot of water.

For your information, I learned this at a part-time job. He was a trash boss who refused to even pay me the minimum hourly wage, but I still learned a lot from him. Especially on how to report non-payment of hourly wages to the Labor Office.

“Should I throw this away……?”

I was inserting rice into the duck’s stomach when the knight next to me held up a pile of feathers that he helped pluck.

“No, how could you throw away such precious duck feathers! Do the Northerners not get cold at all? We must make clothes out of them!”

Since ancient times, the best parka has always been duck down parkas.

I carefully took care of the basket full of duck feathers. I took them to the maids and tried my best to explain to them using both words and body language. Collect this amount of feathers and quilt it to make the clothes warmer to wear.

Indeed, the maids have been taking care of the Blake estate for a long time. They quickly realized my intentions and gathered in groups of twos or threes before they started sewing excitedly.

All my hardships in my past life were becoming helpful in one way or another, huh.

While I looked at the scene with pride, the knights shouted that the water was boiling. I quickly returned to the kitchen.

It almost felt like a holiday due to how crowded it was, making me feel strangely ticklish and warm inside.

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

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#tngdh

[avatarmerida]

Short little late night huntlow drabble about two losers who are also nerds

---

“The briefing shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Hunter assured, giving Willow one final hug before following Gus and heading to the airship. He blamed his late departure on him “forgetting” supplies, but his empty hands easily proved he wanted to fill them with nothing else but her.

“I know you will.” said Willow,her arms anchored tightly around his neck. She knew everyone was staring, she didn’t care. She had been through too much to risk another incomplete goodbye. She slowly released her hold on him to see him better and she knew he shared her sentiment, but as much as they wanted to there was little else they could do to prolong their farewell .”Take your time.” She said quietly as she stepped back so he could get going. He nodded and turned to leave for real this time. 

As she watched him walk away, Willow’s heart felt as though it was overfilling. She took a deep breath as she let the contents pour out, summoning a bold voice for them to travel on before he got too far away. “‘Take the stars if you need to, I won’t want to see them anyway if I have to see them alone.’”

Hunter stopped in his tracks. With a look of disbelief he slowly turned back around to Willow, who offered him a shy smile.

“W-what did you say?”

“‘Even if you don’t take them, I won’t know the difference.’” She continued. “‘The brightest thing in my world will be missing so the sky would be dark regardless.”

Hunter hasped. “Are you quoting-?”

“Book 3, chapter 15.” Willow eagerly replied before he could finish the question.

“B-but how? I thought-.”

“I uh, read ahead so when you finished the series I could surprise you and we could talk about it right away.” she replied, tucking her hair behind her ear, slightly nervous for some reason. 

“And you memorized Ivy’s goodbye to O’Bailey?” Hunter asked with a gulp, his voice light and shaky as he took a step closer to her. He looked at her with utter astonishment. 

She nodded. “It was one of my favorite parts.” She said sweetly, taking a step to him. “Especially the next part.”

“Right,” Hunter whispered, his eyes locked on the wonderful plant witch, always full of wonderful surprises. It took a moment before he caught on, seeing her prompting him. he words came naturally to him for numerous reasons, helping him say what he could not compose himself as he brought forth a bold voice of his own as he walked closer to her. “Oh! Oh, yeah uh…’You would entrust me with the stars?’”

“‘I would entrust with my very heart, Chief O’Bailey,’” Willow responded with the next line.

“‘Oh, but you’ll need it, won’t you?’” Hunter went on in character. “‘Perhaps you can use mine since I’ll be leaving it here, as it belongs with you beneath the stars.”

“‘Knowing you are among them will be enough for me to keep them in my sights,” said Willow, taking another step so he was close enough to touch again. “‘The stars cover a wide range, they can keep our hearts connected,’”.

Hunter sighed and they reached the end of the chapter’s dialogue. “I can’t believe he just leaves after that though,” he said, almost upset. “Like… that was totally a confession, right? And he doesn’t realize it? I know I should go now but I always get mad at that part because clearly Ivy was waiting for him to-.”

“Oh she was, she definitely was.” Willow replied with utter confidence. “But I think he was just overwhelmed by everything and he didn’t realize it.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Said Hunter, who wanted nothing more than to talk about Cosmic Frontier with his favorite person and could not bring himself to leave. “But I can’t help but feel like he missed his chance. I only have one chapter left and they haven’t reunited yet and I really need to know if they-.”

“Well, I can tell you.” Willow offered with a twinkle in her eye. “If you want.”

“You know how I feel about spoilers,” Hunter said with a lopsided smile. “Ugh, I can’t wait to talk about this with you! I can’t believe I had no idea you were reading ahead this whole time!”

“Yeah, I uh stole the books while you were asleep,” Willow admitted, twirling her braid. “I knew they were important to you and you’re important to me, so…”

“What was your favorite part?” Hunter asked excitedly, taking her hands in his as he suppressed the desire to jump up and down with joy.

“Oh, uh, I don’t think you’ve gotten that far yet,” Willow smiled, her favorite part being right at the end, when they were reunited. “And I know how you feel about spoilers.”

“Fair enough.” Hunter said with a fond sigh. “When things calm down, I wanna hear all your theories! What do you think about Ivy and O’Bailey? Did you like the ending? Wait wait, don’t tell me! I don’t wanna know what happens!”

Willow giggled. “Fine I won’t tell you what happens,” she said as she leaned forward and rose to her tiptoes, placing one hand on Hunter’s shoulder for balance as she gently placed her lips the one the side of his face right by the corner of his mouth. She lingered there a moment, and heard him sharply inhale to hold his breath. She smiled as she hovered by his ear to whisper. “But I did really like the ending.”

He squeaked as she returned to her place in front of him and gave him her signature wink which sent a chill up his spine. “Was that-? Does that mean-? A-are you-?” Hunter wasn’t sure what question to ask, his face a mixture of stun and delight. It was a farewell Willow was satisfied with, knowing he had extra determination to return safely. He needed to find out exactly how much she was quoting. 

“We can talk about your theories when you get back.” 

#huntlow #winter toh #huntlow fanfiction #toh #willow park #hunter toh #the owl house #nerds and losers

[katiekatdragon27]

To my other followers: I am so sorry.

To my two new followers: *comes out with silver platter* Here! Eat uuuuupppp~~~~

This! *slams fists on table then slams face on table* This GODFORSAKEN MOVIE HAS ALTERED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY I'M NOT JOKING.

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT KIND OF "RECLAIMING MY CHILDHOOD TRAUMA" MINDEST MY BRAIN WAS ON BUT THE OBSESSION WITH THIS PIECE IF MEDIA IS ACTUALLY SCARING ME-

Most stuff below. Lots of rambling.

So. Flatland. It's a good book, and an amazing f*cking movie. I love this goddamned movie so much bro. It's not even like a "good" good movie I just really like it for no reason.

Some lore I have with this book, since I want to talk about it.

I watched this movie the first time when I was in 6th grade. It scared me so bad that I had nightmares about it for a week. I hated the style of the 2D world and was so scared about the amount of murder that I psychologically blocked it all out.

Now in the present (as an adult in college), my friend brought up the movie for us to watch during a movie night. I was way more excited to watch it than I thought I would be (cuz of my previous encounter with it and wanting to "reclaim" the movie), but we only got 4 minutes in before my other friends got bored and decided to watch something else. I sorta dropped it for a bit after that before @/goosesartblog posted their ONE - Flatland crossover and 10000 emotions flew over me. I then proceeded to watch it with my siblings, who also did not care about the movie.

Now, it has become a lifestyle of watching it every single day. Every. Single. Day. It's bad. I can't stop.

And it's on YouTube for free.

AND the book is on YouTube as an audiobook AND the actual PDF book is just there to read.

PLEASE. I NEED PEOPLE TO NOT BE NORMAL WITH ME.

Anyways, actual relevant doodles. These characters are A. Sphere (the objectively best character idgaf) and Carlton Cube(?). I saw something about them being John-locked and thought it was really funny. Also, I saw a meme about the two getting Starbucks or smth during the week I lingered, so here lol.

Some more doodles of concept stuff. Actual A. Square art and some style testing, Hex doodle, and more A. Sphere bc I love him so much. His ass is gay idk if you think I'm wrong just look at him.

Silly little idea I had about if Spherious *(the sphere from the other Flatland movie) and A. Sphere were in the same universe. It's unlikely, but I think Spherious would be the Messiah of 2000 and A. Sphere is the Messiah of 3000. They met at some point where their lives overlapped, and Spherious tried to give A. Sphere advice, to which he was completely ignored. A. Sphere's a bratty teen here and Spherious is a grandpa. They treat their apostles very differently.

Another silly idea I had was that when A. Sphere "died", he was actually picked up by a 4D being named A. Tesseract. He stays with her until the war is over in his dimension, and he is able to see A. Square one last time during his hallucination (that's why A. Sphere's innards are seen). Also also, A. Sphere learns how to treat people better b/c of A. Tesseract and the 4th dimensions' more liberal views on expression and gender. Development for the stupid shiny solid.

Thank you for looking at this mindless rambling. If anyone knows of more Flatland media, please send it to me I'm starving. Expect more, and have a great day :)

#flatland #flatland 2007 #flatland the movie #a sphere #a square #spherios #flatland oc??? kinda??? #a. tesseract is mine ig #idk anymore lol #flatland spherious #carlton #hexagon #a sphere my beloved #he's so me #sorry for the shitty pictures my camera is being ass rn #i sincerely apologize for this cringe guys it will happen again #doodles #katiekatdragon27

[spaceagebachelormann]

Platonic hcs for Adam Frankenstein and a gender neutral reader that befriends him? hope you’re having a great day btw!

platonic adam frankenstein hcs !

✧ warnings: some swearing

✧ additional info: oh my god i got so excited when i saw this request by all means pls send more for my classic monsters m.list and/or phantom of the opera (if you’ve seen it ofc) this made me so happy ur an angel. also can be read as either the book or movie versions <3

✧ m.list — nav.

so like

he’d probably be intimidated when u first come across him

like he doesn’t trust you but he isn’t going to hurt you because he doesn’t have a reason

you probably need to show him ur not gonna do anything before he stops trying to get away from u

and when that happens he’ll still be a bit suspicious

just start by introducing urself and explaining ur intentions and he’ll calm down

he finally introduces himself to u as gently as he can cause he doesn’t wanna like. scare u away ofc

once he gets comfortable he’s such a good friend

one of the first things he does is ask u abt ur life cause he feels like it’s important to know what ur friends lives are like (he’s right go check up on ur friends rn if ur reading this 😒)

he knows he can’t like stay with u (probably) and u can’t stay with him so he gets kinda sad when u leave

goodbye hugs absolutely happen!!

and he’s super gentle cause he’s really strong and could easily crush u

also def gives head pats

erm anyway

typa guy to walk into ur house like he lives there (if u live alone)

but if he doesn’t i feel like you would be going to wherever tf he is more than him coming to u

and he gets so happy if u just show up unexpectedly

like that shit makes him more happy than showing up on scheduled time

and if ur ever late cause u had a problem for someone else oh my god

a) u came to the right person because he’s very sweet and understanding and will listen to u and give input if u ask

b) he’ll stomp that mf like a bug if u want him too

c) his hugs are fucking amazing

he’s so good at comforting <3

other than that he’d probably know how to cook from living alone so he’d like making u food

even if u don’t ask he has something ready for u

and you WILL eat it or i’m gonna come after u 😒

would also randomly bring u gifts as a thank you for befriending him because now he isn’t as lonely and has someone to talk to! <3

the thought of him like getting all happy when u come through the door to see him is making me so happy and sad at the same time he’s such a cutie patootie

this one might take some time. but once he’s rlly rlly comfortable he’ll prob tell u abt what happened with victor

was mainly afraid of telling u cause he wasn’t sure how u would react

has so much more respect for u when u aren’t rude to him abt it <3

if u have any random drama bro is invested

“SHE DID WHAT” core

will think ur in the right literally no matter what

u could’ve done some shit scandalous and he’s defending u

u could probably help him come outside more cause he’d always be inside

just say to him “hey we should go for a walk!!” and with a bit of convincing ur suddenly outside in the woods on a walk

THE ANIMALS LOVE HIM SO MUCH

like it’s so cute he’s sitting on the ground trying to pay attention to 15 animals at once

even if he’s deformed they know hes rlly sweet and wouldn’t do anything to them

also he’d fucking love picnics

like just sitting there and listening to u talk abt whatever

he loves it <3

#mars writing 🧈 #frankenstein (marlees version 🫀) #adam frankenstein #frankenstein #victor frankenstein #frankenstein x reader #adam frankenstein x reader

[urfavnegronerd]

percy jackson brain-rot as i begin the books again

as someone whos hopelessly devoted to the workings of rick riordon i absolutely never understood percabeth

like,

they're literally 12, children, CANNOT LEGALLY DRIVE OR CONSENT TO SEX at the end of the og series (chalice of the gods) and niggas really out here shipping the fuck outta them

shit dig hard enough on a03 and there's prolly smut of the two of em

never understood it, like i get a cute lil mutual pining thing where they both like each other but a whole ass ship never made sense. like no, the two don't make babies. why? CUZ THEYRE BABIES THEMSELVES

edit:

okay to clear things up cs people are in the comments saying i don't know what a ship is (i'm literally a fanfic writer on here but okay)

i'm just saying that these are literally little kids in middle school. i'm not saying that middle school kids don't have relationships, but it's still weird. and from, i'm boutta geek out about this incredibly obscure topic i'm sorry, a developmental standpoint middle grade children are nowhere near psychologically ready to be in a relationship which is why it's extremely rare to see couples who have been together since middle school (that one episode of abbott elementary). if you go on tiktok and look for people who broke up with someone they were in a relationship with from middle school- high school, those breakups are traumatic

all breakups are traumatic in some way, but there have been several people who have developed traits of borderline personality disorder because they broke up with someone they had been romantically involved with since middle school.

also let's not forget how warped your view on intimate relationships go (fucking. imma say it the way you think about fucking is skewed). the people i've spoken to who broke up with their middle school partner in their older parts of high school have recounted just how awful their view on sex was, some have even pondered if they were asexual because they couldn't picture themselves up under anyone else.

like i get it, it's cute to see little kids who like each other, but most of this fandom are of age to drive, to study for the SATS/gsces, some are able to legally drink in the united states, or applying to college. these are little baby children that high school students and young adults should not be playing match maker for. ALSO WALKER SCOBELL IS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL/ HIS FIRST YEAR IN HS HE WAS BORN IN 2009.

anyway,

i get it, we all have head canons, but shipping two middle schoolers who a) may or may not have started puberty b) did not stay at one school for too long c) don't know trig formulas d) may or may not have had their first period/ voice dropped/ you get the picture.

SO

i don't understand percabeth as a whole romantic ship, but mostly as a fluffy little middle school flirty thing (prolonged eye contact, stealing hats, asking if they can hug/kiss at a certain time, etc.)

i love love love the concept of seaweed brain and wise girl, smartwater, percabeth, whatever, I THINK THEY'RE ADORABLE but i don't understand the draw of why people feel the incessant need to make it extremely romantic. like why why whyyyyyyy. can we js let them be kids, because lets be real a lot of the newer additions to this fandom only know about the show (and its okay we love you guys anyway its just that some of us have read the books too, its not required for you to love the show that you need to read the books) and are already talking about 'annabeth and percy need to just kiss already' no they don't. cs percy just lost his mom (i know something you dooonttttttt) and our cutie patootie annabeth is still lowkey a mystery (i'm guessing?? idk i haven't watched the show yet i think im gonna pirate it soon or smth, im js assuming because idk what point the show is at in relation to the first book), etc. can we maybe not make them a whole ass ship until the show is in relation to the last few books of the series. lets js let them be kids for now.

AND THIS IS NOT TO SAY THAT I DIDN'T LIKE WHEN THEY WERE AN ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP IN THE LATER BOOKS OKAY ITS NOT TO SAY THAT im just saying that i didn't understand the concept of percabeth within the first few books because it was a little wonky to really really want two twelve year olds to be in a relationship. they're cute when its in the last few books but come on yall. lets not ship them yet. also report any smut you see of them that's not cool or rick riordon approved.

theyre still babies, even if some of the fandom has read all of the books and others didn't.

does this make sense?

xoxo,

rae <3

#percabeth #grover underwood #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #percy jackson #annabeth #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #annabeth pjo #annabeth percy jackson #perseus jackson

[elly99]

In An Airplane

Part 2 of 3. Check here for more details.

I've been thinking about you on this aeroplane And my, my mind is in the sky When I'm dreaming about you on this aeroplane

09:28 CET

A new morning in Milan. A new number in your phone. You notice she'd already messaged you.

good morning! 😊 you have a pretty name! it suits you. nice to meet you! again ㅋㅋㅋ

good morning! and thank you!! i like your name too! nice to officially meet you hanni 🤝

oops sorry i'm so used to using ㅋㅋㅋ i forgot you probably don't know what that means 🤣 it's just like laughing in korean

yeah i figured ㅋㅋㅋ

did you sleep well?

best sleep i've had for as long as i can remember 😴 how about you?

same!! i think i have you to thank for that 🤭

and i have you to thank for last night! it still doesn't seem real

i know! i had such a nice time 💓

Normally you'd be surprised to see hearts sent so soon, but after last night you could send her a million.

me too! hihi 💓

you know what else is real tho? work today 😣 but it should be fun!!

i'm sure it will be. and you'll nail it! fighting!! you guys say that right? 😅

yeah that's right! hahaha

You already knew you were right but you found yourself wanting her affirmation.

hey i need to get ready soon 🙁 what time's your flight?

it's at 8 in the evening but my parents want to head to the airport after lunch

ok i'm going for a walk in a bit then i think i'm eating lunch at the hotel so i might see you in the lobby or something

don't worry i'll pretend i don't know you

i'm glad you got to know me last night tho 😊 i'm thankful the universe sent you my way 💫

so am i!!

i'll get going now! keeping texting me ok? even if i don't reply right away. i really like talking to you 💗

me too hanni! take care! 💗

The morning was cold and the sky was grey, but just like last night, she had a way of keeping you warm. You look at your messages, then once again at the roses on your bedside table. You couldn't stop smiling.

13:31 CET

hey we're checking out now. i went out for a walk earlier too! i bought you something and left it at reception. said it was from a fan. luckily my parents didn't notice 😅 hope you like it!! and hope you enjoyed lunch too! will text you when i get to the airport 😊

15:05 CET

checking in bags now. is it weird that i miss you?

17:10 CET

hope your work is going well!! just waiting for boarding now. btw my brother lent me a really interesting book. i'll finish it on the plane later. i'd love to talk about it with you!

heeyyyyy!! i'm soooo so sorry i didn't get back to you!! i really wanted to reply but was really busy and also trying not be suspicious hahaha

hey hanni!! it's no problem at all! don't worry about it 😊

just finished a shoot but aaaaaa i got your flowers!! thank you so much!!! 🥹 they're beautiful! i love them so much 💕

i'm glad!! yeah i realized i couldn't really take the roses you bought me last night on the plane and i didn't want them to go to waste so i just bought a whole bouquet to complement them. and you deserve them more anyway!

you're so sweet! thank you so much!! and i'd love to hear about the book you're reading! just keep ranting about it and i'll get back to you after dinner probably. gotta go for now!

alright enjoy dinner! i'll keep listening to the playlist you made me

hihi hope you like it! let me know which songs you enjoy

will do! oh and i downloaded phoning too! it's so cool you guys have something like this

oh nice!! you're a bunny now 🐰

i think i became one as soon as i met you 🐰

stop being so sweet!! i'm smiling like a crazy person in front of everyone here. ok i really gotta go. text you later!!

see yaaaaa

i miss you too btw

Who was the one smiling like a crazy person now?

21:38 CET

how's it going! hope the wifi on the plane is alright! i just got home from dinner

hey I just finished dinner too and am reading now! how was the food?

we ate at a restaurant right next to the cathedral and it was really good! it just felt kinda weird going back there and not being with you

aw do you miss me that much 🐰

i do 🤭

i miss you too hanni 💗 last night was really special to me. sorry i keep saying that but i can't help it. i hope we get to see each other again soon

it was really special to me too!! we'll meet up soon i promise 🙏 i'll find a way once i get back home in a few days

no rush!! i know you're a busy gurl and you're in the public eye so yeah i really don't wanna pressure you! hope you know that. even if we only ever get to text or call from now on i'll be cool with that. i'm just glad i met you!

ya gurl do be busy!!!

You have to stop yourself from reading too much into that one.

hihi 😋

but for real I'll do my best! meeting you was really such a gift and i wanna see you again

you're really sweet did you know that?

you're sweeter did you know that?

stahp 🙈

hehe 😋 so how's your book btw! i'm gonna have to sleep soon because i gotta get up early tomorrow so i wanna hear about it before going to bed

so the book is called einstein's dreams and it's basically just a collection of stories. the stories describe worlds where time behaves a little differently in each. it's pretty interesting! and a lot of it is based on real parts of einstein's theories. it really makes you think

that sounds really cool! i've always been interested in science! was just never really good at it 😅

well if you couldn't tell i'm a huge nerd. i'll probably study physics or something at uni in korea

really? i mean yeah i could tell haha but i didn't think you'd actually be studying something like physics. you struck me as more of an emotional and artistic person

well i am! idk about artistic but i appreciate art and music. and the beauty in the world. i think that's why i want to study physics. it's like studying the poetry of the universe

only a huge nerd could romanticize a bunch of math

well math is the language that poetry is written in!

alright nerd let me hear about the actual book now hahahah

sorry hahaha

don't be sorry!! i'm just playing around. i love the way you look at the world 😊

aw thanks 🥹 ok so there's two stories in the book that i really like. the first one describes a world where time passes more slowly the higher up in altitude you go which is technically true in the real world but the effect is a lot more pronounced in the story. so everyone moves to the mountains or builds really tall buildings to live in thinking that they'll live longer as a result. then it becomes a status thing like the people who live in the valleys and lowlands are looked down upon. but the irony is it's all just relative. sure up in the mountains time will pass more slowly but only relative to down in the valleys. they're not really gaining any more time in their lives. in fact their lives become shorter because of the thin cold air up there and they start eating less and become unhealthy and aged before their time. i mean science aside it's just interesting to think about the lengths people will go to to run away from something inevitable then they end up making it worse

wow

there's that wow again 😂 that's all you have to say? i mean i get it i kinda ranted sorry hahaha

no no!! it's really interesting i swear!! you'll have to explain the science to me some other time but what i got from that is we should just embrace what we have now. not try to outrun our lives but just live them in the moment. not lose sight of what really matters

and what's that?

love? humanity? i mean you said it became a status thing. people lost their compassion in their greed for something more. something that wasn't even real

yeah... it's kinda sad to think about. humans can be so kind but also so cruel. i wonder where it all goes wrong sometimes

yeah 😞

but hey i don't think i told you this. do you know what i thought when i first saw you on that balcony last night?

oh what?

i thought you were an angel. a very expensive looking angel 😂

noooo stopppp 🙈🙈🙈

i'm serious tho!! i just knew from your voice and your eyes that you would be the kindest person i'd ever met. and i was right. i love the way you look at the world too

you're too sweet stop it 🥹

alright alright you wanna hear the other story? it's a little lighter than this one hahaha

sure! it'll be my bedtime story

ok so in this world time is like a disc and it gets slower as you get closer and closer to the middle. again this can kinda happen in a way in the real world but that's for some other time. but basically you can walk to the center of time and when you're there time will stop. that means you'd never be able to leave but that moment would also last forever. so lovers would go there and kiss or parents would go with their children and hold them to stop them from growing older. but for people who didn't quite reach the center, just passed close to it, their time would slow down so much that when they got back to the rest of the world nothing would be the same. their friends and family would be gone and cities would be completely different. centuries would've passed essentially. so it's like a risk to get close to the center. but some people choose to do it to treasure specific moments. what would you choose?

oh that one's interesting too!! i think it's kinda similar to the first story tho. i feel like we can still treasure the important moments in our lives without having to freeze them forever and lose other things in the process. live in the moment but not freeze it forever

right? i'm glad we think the same!

me too 😊 hey thanks for sharing all this! i know it means a lot to you and it means a lot to me that you're sharing it with me. i gotta go sleep now but don't hesitate to keep writing your thoughts. i wanna hear them all! i'll reply when i wake up. update me when you're home safe ok?

i will!! thanks for being so sweet hanni! i really appreciate it. good night and sweet dreams!! 💗

good night!! hope you sleep well on the plane ❤️

But you still had so much on your mind. She was the kind of person you wanted to share your whole world with. So even if you did manage to sleep, you knew you'd dream about her. And in your dreams you'd be together, the distance between you reduced to nothing. An airplane on the ground, a hotel room in the sky.

3:47 CET

good morning!! hope i'm not waking you up with the notifs. i managed to sleep quite a bit and i'm listening to your playlist again now. and it's playing airplane thoughts! it's a really nice song and it's really fitting. so in the spirit of the song i just wanted to share some more thoughts with you. i was just thinking about how we were talking last night and the night we met, and how i just feel so comfortable? with you. like i can just be myself and open up completely. i'd usually never do that with someone i just met but you just made me feel at home. so often in my life i've been with people and shared special, beautiful moments with them. like when i would travel and see amazing cities and landscapes with my family, or stay up all night with my friends. but something was always off. i felt like i was the only one feeling that way. the feeling that this moment right here is special and i'll remember it for the rest of my life. i knew they didn't understand that feeling or treasure that moment in the same way. but somehow just a few hours with you sitting in front of a cathedral in milan i knew you understood me. you made me feel like a different person. or rather the person i always was underneath the facade i put on for people. so i hope you understand why i keep saying that our first night was so special to me and why i keep thanking you for it. it was so important to my life right at that moment. i'm just happy you're here. that's all

5:32 CET

hey good morning!! ❤️ you know the reason i love music so much and i guess why i'm a singer now is because i feel like there are too many emotions in this world and not enough words to express them. often i find myself feeling a certain way but not being able to describe it. then i listen to just the right song and i think yeah that's it. that's the feeling. i think music and art in general is just the language we need to overcome that gap. so when we shared our music that night, and knowing that you're listening to and enjoying the playlist i made for you now, i knew i felt something special with you. when i looked into your eyes i knew you felt it too. that connection. just the way you described it. so i'm happy you're here too ❤️

i don't think i've ever cried this high up above the ground before

oh hey you're awake! sorry huhu didn't mean to make you cry but tbf you made me cry too just now. and i just woke up!! i can't have swollen eyes for the show today 😅

omg i'm so sorry!! hahhaha

you should be landing soon right? have they served breakfast? lunch? idk time zones are hard

yeah they did! breakfast was soooo good! korean food is amazing. like even in planes it's great

welllll you're in business aren't you?

oops 🙈

that explains some of it 😂 but yeah korean food is so good!!

you gotta send me all your food recs!! i'll check them all out when i can

sure sure!! but i gotta get ready first. i have a quick shoot in my hotel room before the show. i might do a phoning call later when i'm done with it. it'll be quick but maybe you can join in!

sounds good! time to meet all my fellow bunnies 🐰

go get some more sleep! or not actually maybe it'll be better for your jet lag to wait until later

yeah i've slept enough. have fun today hanni!! see you later on phoning 📱

see youuuuu!! take care!

As soon as you cross the threshold at immigration and enter Korea once again, the thought crosses your mind that in a few days she'd be here, too. And the hope that you'd have more nights together enters your heart.

12:30 CET/20:30 KST

hey can i just say you looked amazing!! an angel fr

nauurrr 🦭🦭

hahaha why the seal?

sorry that's just the emoji i've been using for myself lately hahah

it's cute! it suits you somehow

thank you 🥰 you should be home right? everything went smoothly i hope?

yeah all good! tho i think jet lag's gonna hit hard

aww man i know the feel! but i'll be here to keep you company don't worry! ❤️

thank you! you're the sweetest as always

actually sorry i might have lied because i need to go to the show now. and then fly back home. but i'll do my best to message!!

no worries hanni really! 😊

no worries? more like super nervous right now!!!

aww no you can do it! you're amazing!! you'll do just fine

thanks eeeee 😖 i'll catch you laterrrr

see yaaaa

22:34 CET/6:34 KST

hey i'm on the plane now. gonna try and sleep. just wanted to let you know that i'm thinking about you! hope you're sleeping well and beating jet lag 🥊

13:28 KST

i slept for 7 hours omg 😴 will be landing soon! how are you?

heya!! sorry i've been in and out of sleep. jet lag sucks. but hey at least you're here!

i am here! 😊 when i get home you wanna call? maybe after dinner?

at this point idk when dinner's gonna be. but yeah sure i'd love to!!

yaaay

did you dream of anything?

it was more remembering than dreaming. i remembered our time in milan. how we talked about quickly passing by people and realizing that there's so much more going on in everyone's lives beyond what we can see in those few seconds of eye contact

sonder

yeah! and i thought that, knowing that fact, why aren't more people kind and thoughtful? compassionate. i mean most people are polite but there's a step above that that's rare to see. if we let it really sink in that we don't have a lot of time with people and life goes by so quickly, why shouldn't we try to be the kindest and most genuine versions of ourselves all the time? i'm not saying that that's who i am but it's who i want to become. and talking with you i feel like that's what you want too?

i think i'd always had that in the back of my mind but i'd never really articulated it to myself. but after i met you and now that you've said that, yes that's what i want. i want to at least try. thank you for showing me that part of myself ❤️

i'm glad i was able to 🥰

i used to think a lot about love and relationships. i mean i still do. and not just romantic ones. i remember thinking at some point that all relationships eventually fade or people move on and that i'd be better off focusing on myself, on my career. i thought i'd rather live knowing that i was really good at something, like you are at your job. i thought i'd rather live knowing i excelled at something people cared about. maybe i was scared of really opening up to someone and sharing my entire life with them only for them to leave and forget about me. but you helped me realize that that's ok. you said that as long as you had a true connection with someone, even briefly, that there's beauty in that. and that really stuck with me. it is all about connection. at the end of the day that's all we really need right? to love and be loved

yeah isn't everything we do in life an attempt at being loved a little more? i mean sometimes i feel this pressure as an idol to be a perfect role model for others, especially to other girls my age, and there's a certain responsibility that comes with that. i want to show them that you can achieve your dreams if you try hard enough and you don't really need anyone else. but then i realize that i'm doing this job because i love making music, spreading love in the world, and receiving it back. we do kinda need each other in the end cuz that's what being human is i think

yeah it definitely shows that you love your fans! and they love you just as much

i remember too when you asked me if i believed in a higher power. i said i thought the universe had some way of bringing the right people together at the right time. like you and me that night. but i also believe that there's magic when they form that connection. when they reach out like you did. being at the same place at the same time is one thing but attempting to get to know each other is another. if there's any magic in this world it's in trying to really connect with others and getting to know them. sharing the world and your experiences. even if it doesn't always work out, it's about the attempt. if we don't try things in life then what are we really doing right? you helped me realize that

you must really be an angel hanni idk what else to say

no i think you are!! ❤️

❤️ i'm so happy we helped each other see things we couldn't before. i mean maybe they were things we already knew in our subconscious but never properly thought about but still. you're such an inspiration! i think your job is perfect for you. the world needs someone like you

aww thanks ❤️ i'm crying again hahaha

me too lmao

i'll go wash up before people think i'm weird 😅

alright text me when you get home! looking forward to our call!

same same! see yaaaa 🥰

baiiiiiiii 💓

21:56 KST

An evening in Korea. Another night of hearing her voice. You pick up the phone.

Hey! How are ya! How was dinner?

Hi hi~ I haven't eaten yet. Appetite is nowhere to be found. I'd much rather talk to you anyway.

But you should eat something before sleeping at least! Don't want you getting hungry in the night.

Don't worry. I'll eat some ramyeon or something.

A pause. You hear her breathing for a brief moment.

It's funny hearing your voice again. Like, all this time reading your messages, I was just imagining your voice in my head, remembering it as it was when we met. But now through the phone it's not the same.

Better than nothing!

Oh, yeah! It's nothing bad. It's just funny.

Another pause. Almost awkward silence until she speaks up again.

I was thinking earlier about what you said about stars the other night. How we're all just stardust.

Yeah!

I still think that's really cool. Then it got me thinking even more that we're all just made of matter. Like atoms and molecules. Please don't laugh at me. I feel like you're about to laugh.

I'm not! I'm not!

Ok, good. But, yeah, we're all the same! Just atoms and molecules. Just like everything else in the universe. Doesn't that make you feel warm and fuzzy? Like, we're all some kind of huge family with everything that exists. And we're all 13 billion years old. Or whatever the number is.

I bet you looked up the age of the universe earlier.

I may have.

For the first time you hear her laughter through a small phone speaker. It was still just as sweet.

Hey, I miss you.

You hear nothing over the phone for a few moments before she responds with something you did not expect.

Funny, isn't it? How, in this digital age where everything's connected, you still find yourself missing people.

Yeah. You'd think you wouldn't be able to miss anyone but...

On the plane, when I closed my eyes to sleep, I could hear your voice. I think it's nice to know that you can just close your eyes and think about those you love, those special to you, and know they are real, alive, hopefully happy, in their own corner of the world, whether it's down the street or across the planet, and know that if they're closing their eyes and thinking the same, you're together in that moment.

That's a really nice thought.

But it isn't the same as having them near, knowing they're right there beside you under the same roof, under the same sky, under the same stars. It's not the same as just being able to turn to them and smile. To be able to hug them and laugh with them and hear it unfiltered in your ears. To be able to say things with your presence that words could never convey. I think we all need that closeness as humans. I think that's why we miss people. And why I miss you, too.

#hanni x reader #hanni #hanni new jeans #newjeans x reader

[theothersarshi]

Hey, do you know how meanings change in time?

Sometimes things that used to be obscene are now quite normal: "penis" used to mean "tail" in ancient Latin, but it started getting used as an obscenity. Today, because it's Latin, it's just the non-exciting name for the thing.

At other times, things that used to be normal are now read differently? Like the Flintstones having "a gay old time".

So. I've been reading Jules Verne lately.

I don't recommend him, because he's: a) a writer of geography masquerading as an adventure novelist; b) repeating all the racist beliefs of the day with absolutely zero awareness that people far away are still people; c) the quintessential "this is how old writers wrote women" author. (Most authors tend to see them as people, but not Jules Verne!) d) he doesn't do characters.

HOWEVER. In "In Search of the Castaways", I came across something that probably read as an amusing anecdote to contemporaries, but today it looks like heavy-handed gay symbolism.

The story of the book is this: a message in a bottle is found. Captain Grant has been shipwrecked somewhere on the 37th parallel in the Southern Hemisphere, and a group of Scotsmen led by a noble and brave Scottish laird go search for him. They're joined by the distracted Jacques Paganel, a brilliant French geographer who boarded the wrong ship.

Together they cross Patagonia and Australia, and when they reach New Zealand, they get captured by a Māori tribe. Paganel manages to escape, only to be captured by a different tribe than everyone else. When he gets reunited with everyone else, he's very reluctant to explain what happened. He's fine; he's talkative and his usual self when the topic is anything else, but he's absolutely not willing to talk about his time in captivity in any detail.

Finally, his friends learn this:

the chief of that tribe took an instant liking to him

he was greeted by the chief rubbing his nose against him

the chief bound him to himself with ropes

and those ropes were *especially binding* at night

but finally, Paganel escaped

I mean... I'm not the only one snickering, right? This looks like a walk of shame.

Anyway, the crew returns to Scotland. They're all heroes, including Paganel, who's courted by many women. He likes one, but he's very, very reluctant to marry her. He feels that he's "unworthy" of her. He simply can't marry her! Because of a great secret!

A friend finally pries the secret out of him: Paganel got a tattoo in New Zealand. It's of a giant kiwi with wings outstretched, digging its beak into his heart.

Friends. FRIENDS. I'm quite sure a "kiwi" wasn't another name for a New Zealander back in the day, but omg. If I did this in a book, people would accuse it of being so transparent it might as well not be symbolic at all.

I highly doubt this is what Jules Verne meant with that scene (he was probably just throwing in a bit of humor), but omg. It reads very differenly in the 21st century. I found it a bit funnier than the author intended, I'm sure.

#jules verne #old literature

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically 27

JOYOUS NEWS!!! We are now seeing our first two-parter that is

A) Actually supposed to be a two-parter, and

B) Set in the same time period so we can watch them back to back like you're meant to.

It's just nice to have a bit of normalcy in this deeply stupid watch order.

Anyway: Family of Blood. We pick up where we left off. Tim, aka the boy with the fob watch from Love, Actually, opens it just slightly, which is distracting enough to the Family that Martha promptly punches Mother firmly in the solar plexus, steals her shrimp-shaped gun, and takes her hostage.

"You won't shoot!" says Son. "You're scared!"

"Yes, guns and fear are a famously winning combination, Mummy's Little Genius," says Martha, and tells the Doctor to get everyone else out.

He does not. Human Doctor is still a trembling useless wimp. Instead, Nurse Joan the Love Interest takes over, and herds everyone out.

... and then we get the first of many Very Upsetting Scenes in this episode, as the Doctor turns back to Martha, who is still holding the Family at gunpoint.

"What about you?" he asks.

And Martha visibly steels herself, doesn't look away, and says perfectly evenly, "Mr Smith, I think you need to get your lady friend to safety, don't you?"

And he leaves her.

... fuck me, this one has more emotional resonance than that time Amy got shot by her plastic fiance

ANYWAY

Martha is then menaced by a scarecrow and yet still manages to get away. To their credit, the Doctor an Joan are waiting for her outside, at least, and they all run back to the school where the Doctor gets all the school boys to unload the guns and get ready to fight in preparation for Very Upsetting Scene #2. But just before it, we get given an emotionally charged warmup that punches our hearts out the backs of our ribcages like Mortal Kombat characters, as my excellent friend Maia once put it, because as the Family gather outside with their scarecrow army, the headmaster goes out to talk to them.

It's such a good exchange and so incredibly acted and edited that I literally looked up the quote:

Headmaster: Well I warn you, the school is armed. Brother: All your little tin soldiers. But tell me sir, will they thank you? Headmaster: I don’t understand. Brother: What do you know of history, sir? What do you know of next year? Headmaster: You’re not making sense, man— Brother: 1914, sir. Because the Family has travelled far and wide looking for Mr. Smith, and oh the things we have seen. War is coming. In foreign fields, war of the whole wide world with all your boys falling down in the mud. Do you think they will thank the man who taught them it was glorious?

I literally cannot convey how well delivered both that "Tell me sir, will they thank you?" and that "Do you think they will thank the man who taught them it was glorious?" is. The little blond inbred lad who loves dragons on Game of Thrones. By god. Sweet christ does that boy deliver the hell out of those lines. My husband literally GASPED.

Meanwhile, we have what passes for a pallette cleanser in this episode - Martha is tearing the study apart looking for the watch, and Joan the nurse comes to speak to her. Martha tells her she's a doctor from the future.

"Don't be ridiculous," Joan says. "You can't be a doctor, you're a woman and black."

I mean I know I said Freema Agyeman is not... the BEST at acting. And I stand by it. But the LOOK she levels in this scene, my lord. Somehow, in spite of only saying the words "Oh, do you think?", she manages to convey the sentiment "Let me just disembowel this bitch real quick."

"Bones of the hand," Martha says, and lists them all.

"You read that in a book," says Joan.

"YES, TO PASS MY EXAMS" says Martha.

Anyway, it's enough to convince Joan that her new boyfriend is an amnesiac alien (we've all been there, sis), so she goes off to talk to the Doctor. She asks him to describe Nottingham; but he can't, other than facts. And he has the first hint of a breakdown. He does NOT want to be a Time Lord.

"But you know this is wrong," Joan says. "These are children, going to fight the Family. The Doctor wouldn't want it. Nor would John Smith."

Tim is setting up with Classic White Bully Hutchison. But he decides that he needs to do something else with the watch to help. "It's okay!" he tells Hutchison. "You and I will survive this! I've seen us in a WW1 trench in 1914!" and then runs off, as though that is remotely comforting.

Which sets us up nicely for Very Upsetting Scene #2. Outside, a truly unfeasibly large number of scarecrows has now amassed (when did the family make all these scarecrows??!?) The shooting begins, a hymn playing over the top as these weeping, sobbing children load bullets into machine guns and fight supernatural terrors...

And the Doctor, standing there with a loaded rifle, cannot bring himself to shoot a single shot.

Fucking. Harrowing.

Anyway then Daughter-of-Mine turns up and shoots the headmaster for not listening to black women or somethign IDK Martha told him to stay back, he told her to fuck off, the Daughter killed him. Seems fair. Freaks the Doctor out though so everyone retreats into the school, the Family in hot pursuit, and then it's Chaos for a bit until the Father turns up with the TARDIS.

And then we get Very Upsetting Scene #3, as the Doctor cries and begs to be allowed to stay human. A good man, with a good life, in love. This segues into Very Upsetting Scene #4, where Joan takes them to the house of the Daughter on the well-reasoned grounds that the real child who used to be the Daughter had parents who would have tried to stop their little girl from leaving, and been killed. The Doctor lashes out at Martha.

"You're his companion!" he rages. "What good are you, exactly? Why does he need you?"

It is SO fucking upsetting. Poor Martha.

Anyway then Tim turns up with the watch, so THAT becomes Very Upsetting Scene #5, as the Family start bombing the village i.e. St Ffagan's village square, and Martha is telling him to open the fucking watch, and the Doctor is now screaming and begging and pleading to be allowed to live because he doesn't want to go and become someone else. But Joan realises he has to - otherwise, the Family will consume a Time Lord, and then they'll live forever and destroy everything.

She tries to convince him. He says he wants to stay and love her, but knows he won't as the Doctor. And then they touch the watch together and so they both see the life they could have had together INCLUDING THE CHILDREN WHO NOW WON'T EXIST and fuck me we all need therapy forever. Who okayed this. Who allowed this on television. Why must David Tennant be so good at acting.

So it's a bit of a shame it's then all downhill from there tbh.

Obviously, he opens the watch, although it happens off screen, so in this watch order we have had THREE SEPARATE WATCH STORIES but still haven't seen one be opened. He blows up the Family's space ship, and then... well, it's a bit weird. Bit fairytale. He suspends each of them in time in some way so they'll be imprisoned for all eternity, including trapping the Daughter in mirrors... somehow, bit vague on the details. "He ran from us to be kind," the narration says dramatically. "To spare us the rage of a Time Lord" and whoa there Mary Sue, we're back on this bullshit.

A final scene with Joan, with upsetting exchanges like

"Could you change back?"

"Yes"

"Will you?"

"No"

It's another difficult scene, but then it ruins itself by doing the old "People here died because you came and that's your fault" thing, which is eternally boring and terrible and I wish successive showrunners would stop doing it. The Tortured Man Pain side of the Mary Sue. Fuck off.

Anyway, the Doctor and Martha hug it out back at the TARDIS, which is sweet. Tim turns up.

"I've seen the future," he declares. "And I know now what I must do."

You're very intense, Tim.

The Doctor gives him the old watch, and away they go. I hope they're off to an ice cream planet where twelve-fingered aliens give great massages. Martha needs some serious aftercare.

Flash forward. Tim and Hutchison are staggering through a WW1 trench. Tim realises it's the moment from the watch vision he saw, and makes them dive right out the way of a shell. He saves Hutchison. Then Hutchison says "I'm not going to make it."

"Oh yes you are," declares Tim. "Didn't I promise you, all those years ago?"

Tim. It was last year.

ANYWAY this episode was fucking harrowing. We've now seen what the fob watches can do! But no further plot threads I don't think, nor any resolved, so the list remains... extensive.

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest.)

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (unless she’s Missy)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole (And Nardole was “reassembled???”)

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)

What has happened to all these companions and where are the new ones coming from?

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

What’s With The Silence?

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Who is Captain Jack Harkness? (Is he the one who gave the companions a warning about the lone cyberman?)

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window?

What’s with the Doctor’s future involving getting shot by an astronaut?

Is Amy pregnant and why is it inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

Who did the Doctor lose to Cyber Conversion?

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What’s with the Weeping Angel statues, and why can’t you blink at them?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi.)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

What happened with Amy’s pregnancy?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Who is the Master?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory?

Is Rory plastic or not?

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras?

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

#doctor whom #and yet we are continuing #long post