#how many old men has calvin fucked ?

[br1ghtestlight]

anybody else still thinking about fischoeders gay sex parties from that one episode

#so much lore was casually dropped i feel like we havent properly discussed it yet #why are they having sex parties? where are the sex parties?? who is attending these sex parties? #how many old men has calvin fucked ? #more importantly has he ever invited bob to one of his gay sex parties ? #txt #bob's burgers

[starrystevie]

steve's desperate, okay?

he's officially running late for his first date with linda because he couldn't find his car keys and the shirt he wanted to wear just wasn't working so he had to grab something out of his hamper and throw it on blindly which then messed up his hair and he almost forgot to brush his teeth again but remembered as he opened the front door and-

he only realizes he forgot to put on cologne once he makes it halfway to her house and smells himself. the shirt from the hamper smells stale, not bad, just stale. and steve in his normal, non-rushed state wouldn't have noticed because his trusty calvin klein would have covered it up but today is apparently not a day for things to go right.

with a sigh of frustration, steve pulls into the hook's drugstore a little too quickly and it makes his stomach lurch the tiniest bit before sliding into an open parking sport at the front door. he rushes in, pushing the door open with too much force and books it to the fragrance aisle.

"this is so fucking stupid," he mutters to himself, unable to be heard by any surrounding shoppers over the annoyingly loud jingle playing through the speakers.

steve skids to halt in front of the cologne section, crouching down and scanning quickly over the tester bottles for obsession. once he spots the amber bottle, he yanks it towards himself, spraying as much as he can onto his chest given the awkward angle he's at. as he stands back up, steve pulls his shirt collar up towards his nose and the ball of nerves in his stomach loosens at the familiar smell. he may be late but he feels like he's back in the game.

checking his watch, he sees just how late he is and makes a beeline for the door, nearly running into an older lady with far too many rolls of toilet paper in her tiny arms. as he dodges around her and extends his arm to push open the door, he hears a loud voice over the intercom.

"you're not going to buy anything after stealing cologne?"

steve stops, freezes where he is and frantically turns his head around to spot the cashier grinning at him. he has long hair and a bright red hook's drugstore vest over a denim vest which doesn't look very comfortable. he has chains in his jeans and handcuffs holding his belt closed and a smirk that is trying to kill him and oh-

"wait, stealing cologne?" steve shakes himself back into existence as the old lady pushes by him without dropping a single roll on the way back to her car. "you're going to call me putting on a few sprays stealing?"

the cashier's smile just gets bigger, like a cat hunting down a canary. steve's never felt like a canary before but can't deny that it's an exciting feeling.

"well, on a good day i wouldn't. but i'm bored and you didn't buy a single thing so technically, yes. you're stealing, pretty boy."

steve fights the urge to roll his eyes and put his hands on his hips, so instead he crosses them over his chest, cologne wafting up from the movement and reminding him that he doesn't have time for this no matter how cute the cashier may be.

he makes his way over to the counter, grabs a pack of gum and slams it on the counter. without breaking eye contact with eddie, as his nametag suggests, he throws him a salty smile of his own and pulls his wallet out from his back pocket.

eddie's eyes are a deep brown with a glimmer of something behind them and his hands are covered in rings making his fingers look long and strong. the jeans he has on are ripped on one of the the thighs, showing a hint of a tattoo to match the ones crawling up his arms. steve's no stranger to thinking men are attractive but this guy? he's on a new level. his heart thumps painfully in his chest when eddie's grin grows larger as he watches steve give him a once over. it thumps even harder when eddie gives him a once over of his own.

the clock above the register shows that he's officially 20 minutes late to picking up... laura? lisa?

no, linda. damnit.

eddie looks down at the gum and then back up at steve, quirking up an eyebrow. "i hardly think this monetarily equates to a bottle of cologne but-"

"oh come on!" steve huffs. eddie laughs and it's clear and bright, ringing off the cinderblock walls louder than the annoying jingle that's still playing. whatever fight steve may have had left in him drains away at the sound and suddenly he isn't thinking about the clock anymore. he feels his shoulders fall down to a more relaxed state, feels himself shift his weight on his feet to look more natural than ready to run at a moments notice.

"just kidding, man." eddie rings up the gum quickly and hands it back to steve. "sorry, you looked like you were in a rush. i shouldn't have created a scene just because i'm bored."

steve chuckles. "i'm already supremely late for my date so what's another five minutes. especially if it gets me..." he looks at the gum packet to look at what he even picked up in the first place. "... spearmint freshen-up gum."

"well there you go," eddie says, grin smaller than before, "a perfect thing to get for a date. everyone likes their date to be minty fresh for that first kiss."

it strikes somewhere in steve that he isn't expecting. the beemer is still out in the parking lot running so he didn't have to waste time, his watch on his wrist feels heavy, the scent of obsession overpowering. but he can't make himself move. he wants to stay and talk to eddie, wants to learn about what makes him tick.

"can i borrow your phone?" steve asks. eddie's eyebrows furrow but he reaches for the store phone and places the console on top of the counter.

"for what?"

steve look through his wallet, finding the piece of paper with linda's number on it. holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear, he dials in her number and holds his pointer finger up at eddie, signaling that he'll need a second. steve then brings the finger to his lips and shushes with his cheek pulling up in a smirk. eddie's eyes zero in on the motion and it feels like steve's gone from being the canary back to the cat.

"linda? hey it's steve."

he watches as eddie mouths steve back at him and then nods to himself when he gets the confirmation that it is indeed his name. steve throws him a wink for good measure.

"i know i'm late and i'm really really sorry to cancel last minute but-. oh. yeah, sure. have a good time. okay bye li-."

on the other end of the line, linda slams down the phone without waiting for steve to finish talking and it makes him wince with how loud it is in his ear. he gives eddie a sheepish smile, all toothy and guilt-ridden, and gently puts the receiver back down.

"what was that?" eddie asks with a disbelieving look on his face. steve shrugs.

"she got tired of waiting so she already had another guy lined up to come pick her up."

eddie sucks in air through his teeth and mimes getting shot in the heart. it has steve laughing as he falls over on the counter, hair covering his face. he turns his head to peer up at steve through the curtain of curls, the one brown eye that's visible twinkling in the harsh overhead light.

"was it true love? are you just absolutely heartbroken?"

steve thinks about it for less than a second. watches how eddie curls back up one vertebrae at a time before placing his elbows on the counter and leaning over. watches how eddie's eyes flit between his own and his lips. watches how he focuses on the latter for a little while too long.

"why would i be heartbroken," steve starts. he's being too forward, too brash, but with eddie looking at him that way, he knows he can be. "when you'll probably be on break soon and can make it up to me? you know, for making me even more late and all."

eddie's grin grows wide again. "oh really?"

steve shrugs once more with a playful look of consideration on his face, resting on his elbows to match eddie on the counter. "yes, really. this is your payback for being bored and taking it out on me."

it's later when eddie's on break and steve hasn't left the drugstore in over an hour and they're sitting in his car with bowie playing through the speakers that eddie looks up at him with a look steve knows well.

"you do smell really good, y'know." his voice is softer than steve's heard it all day.

"so are you glad i came in to steal cologne?" steve leans closer over the center console to get into eddie's personal space. there's a hand curling over his bicep and pulling him even closer, their faces only centimeters apart.

"i guess i'll let it slide this time, thief."

and when they kiss for the first time, it tastes like the freshen-up gum they both had been nonstop chewing ever since steve paid for it.

#did drugstores back then have fragrance aisles let alone samplers? who's to say just go with it #inspired by me looking cute for work today and forgetting to put on my perfume and wondering if i should stop in to target on my way in #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanon #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #steddie fic #is this realistic? absolutely not but ignore that for the blorbos sake #stranger things #stranger things fic

[catlynhoss05]

Home Sweet Home Ch. 1 P. 3

Meeting The Farm Family!

*NOT MY GIF*

Pairing: OC!baureader x Emily Prentiss x Criminal Minds

~starts in season 4~ (also, check out the links to see what Remi’s abs look like and to see what her arms look like when she flexes as well.. The links are all on the HSH masterlist.) (Click here for song when cued)

Chapter Summary: After the team finishes up with the case and return back to Remi’s childhood home, the team are in for an eventful evening. However, when the following day comes around, Emily’s in for a BIG surprise that makes everyone -herself included- say, “ABOUT TIME!!!”

     After everyone had finished up with supper and the dishes were all cleaned up, Remi had excused herself so she could go and check the chickens. What Remi wasn’t expecting was that Asher had let the mean chicken -that only hated Remi- out of it’s cage to roam around the coop. The mean chicken liked everyone EXCEPT for Remi and Asher knew that. When she had left the house to go to the chicken coop, Asher turned back to the rest of the boys as everyone was just lounging around and started grinning like a fool.

     “Asher, not again. You do remember the last time you messed with her, right?” Benjamin asked with a smile. “Oh, I remember. I still have that scar, but it’s totally worth it though.” Asher laughed. The team looked at each other with confused looks. “What’s going on?” JJ asked. Before anyone could answer her question, everyone heard Remi scream for Asher, and she sounded BEYOND pissed. “Oh God. She’s pissed… Remove anything glass and/or any valuables and BACK UP.” Harris explained, him and his brothers grabbing every piece of glass that was in view and hurrying to put them out of the way before Remi came back inside. Once everyone was backed up out of harms way, Remi had appeared in the patio doorway covered in feathers, a few broken eggs, and some chicken feces. Her fists were tightly clenched, and her face was red, which Emily was really turned on by seeing Remi so riled up. “You bastard.” Remi muttered. “If you two are gonna fight, take it out back so you don’t get everything dirty.” Carol insisted.

     Nolan had pushed Asher out in the middle of the room to wait for his impending doom that is an angry Remi. “Rem-Remi, look. I am sorry, but we have not seen each other in a few months since you left for D.C. and I-I was just messing with you, okay? That’s just what we do.” Asher tried reasoning with his sister. However, that did not help much because that’s when Remi started charging at Asher, who decided to make a run for it out the front door. As Remi chased Asher around the house and to the back yard, everyone that was left in the house had all came out onto the patio to watch the scene. “So, uh… You two are okay with letting them fight it out?” Morgan asked Carol as they all looked on. “Since we have a total of 12 kids and Remi being the youngest and the only girl, we let them figure out their issues/problems that they have with each other on their own. Sometimes, depending on the situation, they fight it out and if the fights get way to out of hand, that’s when we have to intervene.” Carol explained, earning understanding nods from the team. 

     Remi had finally managed to tackle Asher in the middle of the yard and ended rolling together for a few seconds. Once they stopped rolling and were both laying in the yard on their backs, they started laughing and Remi had forgiven him. They both got up off the ground and made their way back up to the house. “Hey, hey… Both of you, shoes off before going inside the house. And take a shower after showing your team where they will be staying, Remington.” Joseph, Remi’s dad, ordered. After Asher and Remi kicked off their shoes, they had both followed everyone back inside the house. Remi went to grab her bags by the front door before turning to face the team to decide where everyone would be staying. “Okay, so I’ve thought about how the sleeping arrangements will be until Will, Henry, Jack and my doggo, Louisa, get here. So, until then, I have a double bed that has a mattress in my old room that is set up so JJ, Penelope and Emily can stay in there with me. You three ladies can borrow some of my old clothes and a pair of boots if needed. Uh, Hotch… You can stay in Asher and Eli’s old room. Rossi, you can stay in Sawyer’s old room. Derek, you can stay in Ryker’s old room and Spencer, you can stay Dallas’s old room.” Remi decided.

     Hotch and the team all came over and grabbed their bags from the entryway and followed Remi upstairs to the rooms. Once Remi showed the men to their rooms, she then led Emily, JJ and Penelope to her old room that was down at the end of the hallway. “Okay, here we are. Oh, and about that secret that I had mentioned about earlier.” She paused as she worked on picking the lock to her bedroom door. “Ha, there we go, got it.” She chuckled, standing back up and turning towards the 3 women. “I-I finally got the lock picked… Anyway, the reason why I had said that I would show you ladies that secret of mine is because, well…. Come in and see for yourselves.” Remi suggested with a smirk, opening the door, and walking into the room. Emily, JJ, and Penelope followed her into the room a bit cautiously; not knowing what to expect exactly. When they took in some of the contents that were hanging on the wall nearest to the doorway, they were not expecting what they were looking at. “Oh wow. This is your secret, Remi? A collection of awards, newspaper clippings, plaques, ribbons, pictures and big trophies?” JJ asked. “Well, sort of…” Remi trailed off.

     “What do you mean ‘sort of’?” Emily asked, confused. Penelope gasped after reading one of the many framed newspaper clippings on the wall, her gasp scaring Emily and JJ. “If you looked closely at the stuff on the wall, and I am quite sure that Penelope hit the jackpot on what my secret is, you would’ve read that I’m a two-time world record holder for bull riding. And before you ask what I mean when I said ‘two-time’, the first time that I broke the world record for bull riding was when I was 25 and the second time was when I was 29 and broke my first record time.” Remi explained to her female coworkers. JJ, Emily, and Penelope were all standing there in her room, starring at her with their mouths agape, as they tried to take in the information they were just told. “I’m also one of the top 5 best rodeo riders in the world.” Remi had finished explaining.

     “I have a question to ask, and they probably do as well. Anyway, I could not help but notice this newspaper article of yours that is about Saddle Bronc Riding. What is that exactly?” Penelope asked, pointing at the article on the wall. “Saddle Bronc Riding is, in a way, sort of like bull riding yet it’s not. Bull riding is where you are obviously on a bucking bull, where as Saddle Bronc Riding is where you are on a bucking horse, or a bronc horse, earning the name Saddle Bronc Riding. However, there’s also Bareback Bronc Riding which I personally think is more difficult then the other.” Remi chuckled. “That’s interesting and awesome.” Penelope and JJ laughed. “And fucking hot.” Emily admitted aloud, silencing the room for a few seconds before Penelope and JJ started laughing again and making Remi blush a deep red and become bashful.

     “That’s why my files are classified and why you couldn’t find any information on me or hack into my said files. Or even do a simple background check on me, Miss Penelope.” Remi laughed as she picked up her go-bag off the floor and putting it onto the cot bed. “How’d you know that I did that? Oh, and have you met any famous people?” The bubbly tech genius laughed as well as the other three women. “Honestly, I did not until you just admitted to doing so, but I did have my suspicions though. And yes, I have actually.” Remi laughed as she grabbed some clean clothes out of her bag before turning around to face Penelope. “Who all have you met, Remi?” Emily asked, setting her bags by the cot bed. “I have met George Strait a few times.” She smiled, then excused herself so she could go and shower before going to bed.

     After Remi had left the room to go and shower, Emily, JJ and Penelope had all changed into their pajamas for bed. When Emily had finished changing her clothes, she turned to face Penelope and JJ and sat down on the cot bed. “Why do you the two of you get the king-sized bed for?” She asked quietly. “Because we got to the bed before you did. Plus, you need to get a move on with the whole crush on Remi situation. And yes, that means sleeping in the same bed with her if that’s what it’s gonna take.” JJ whispered. After about 20 minutes or so and after everyone got ready for bed, Remi had returned to her room wearing only a white Calvin Klein sports bra, matching white Calvin Klein’s boy short underwear with only the waistband showing and gray sweatpants that rode a bit low on her hips. Her hair was damp and askew from her somewhat drying her hair with a towel. Emily was still sitting on the cot bed while JJ and Penelope had already gotten comfortable in the king size bed.

     Remi started to chuckle as she took in the state of the two in the king size bed. “I see that you two already made yourselves comfortable.” She laughed. “Well, it is pretty comfy.” Penelope laughed as well as JJ and Emily. Remi turned her attention back to her belongings that were still on the cot bed and moved them off the bed, setting them down in front of her closet. When she turned back to face Emily, she noticed that the raven-haired beauty was gawking at her and she smirked. “See somethin’ you like, Prentiss?” She asked as she moved a bit closer to Emily. “And if I do, are you gonna do something about it?” Emily quipped, leaning back onto her elbows on the cot bed. Remi just chuckled and moved to get a pair of socks to put on before getting into bed. “Are you gonna do anything, Remi?” JJ asked, wiggling her eyebrows at the young agent.

     Before Remi could do or say anything to JJ, they all heard some whispering coming from the other side of the closed bedroom door. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Every fucking time I have a girl in my room and the door just so happens to be closed.” Remi muttered, finishing putting her socks on before digging through her closet. “Nice looking ass you got there, Remington. But what are you looking for exactly?” Emily asked, hearing Remi bump her head on something and hearing her murmur a quiet ‘fuck’ under her breathe. “Aha, found it. And must you call me Remington?” Remi laughed as she pulled out her old red whip. “Wait, are you actually going to use that on them?” Penelope asked, sitting up in bed. “Oh, heavens no… You know how bad that would hurt them?” Remi asked. “They’re all scared of my whip. I would never hit anyone OR any animal with it. I only keep it around just to scare my brothers off if they’re buggin’ me.” Remi explained, walking over to her door quietly and made sure that the ladies stayed quiet.

     Remi opened her door and shouted ‘HEY’ at Colten, Oliver and Nolan who were eavesdropping on their sister and her female coworkers. The three boys took notice of the red leather whip that was in her hand and started to run back down the hallway and down the stairs as well. Remi started to laugh as she went back into her bedroom and closed the door. “Oh man. That was great and tickles me every time.” She smiled, walking back over to her closet, and putting her whip back in its place. “Hey Remi.” Penelope spoke up. “Yes?” “What is that on your inner left bicep?” She asked curiously. Remi lifted her left arm to see what the tech genius was talking about. “Oh, that’s just my birthmark.” She explained, yawning, and stretching her arms above her head. “I think it’s time for us to get some shut eye.

     Remi crawled onto the other side of the cot bed furthest away from the door since Emily already made herself comfortable. They all said their good nights to each other before drifting off into much needed sleep around 10 p.m.. Sometime around midnight, Remi had woken up because she had to go to the bathroom but had realized that she could not get up out of bed. “Uh, Emily?” She whispered. “Emily…” She whispered again but harshly this time. When the raven-haired beauty did not respond or make any attempt at moving off her, Remi decided to fix the problem herself. In one quick motion, Remi thought her plan would go smoothly as she wanted it to. And boy, was she wrong about that. She was hoping that she could smoothly roll Emily off her just enough for her to quickly jump up off the bed. However, when Remi had managed to roll Emily off her and back to her side of the cot, Emily started to wake up when Remi had her hips straddled with her knees and both of Remi’s hands on either side of her head.

     “Uh, hi.” Remi whispered nervously. “If we’re going to do this, Remi, we’re going to have to be fast and quiet.” Emily whispered, grinning up at Remi. “As much as I would love that right now, we can’t. Plus, you were sleeping on top of me, and I have to pee.” Remi chuckled, getting off Emily and making her way to the bathroom. Once she came back to her room, she closed the door and then crawled back into bed to go back to sleep. “Night, Em.” She whispered. Emily smiled sleepily at the nickname that she used. “Night, Remi.” Emily took in her coworker’s sleeping figure and absolutely wanted to devour every inch of her and to be devoured and loved by her as well. But she knew that it was not the time or place to do that. Around 4 a.m., Remi’s alarm on her phone started to go off, waking up the young agent. She hurried to grab her phone to turn off the alarm so it would not wake up the other 3 women.

     Once she got the alarm turned off, Remi carefully got out of bed and started to get dressed before leaving the bedroom, trying not to wake up her sleeping coworkers. As she made her way downstairs to get something to drink and to do a few morning stretches, she noticed all 11 of her brothers cuddled up together in the living room, chuckling to herself. Remi put on a pair of her old cowboy boots that she wears for whenever she’s home and works on the farm, grabs a few trays with a bunch of egg cartons on them and she heads out to collect eggs to make breakfast for everyone. About 2 and a half hours later, around 6:30 a.m. or so, Remi was relieved that she was finished with cleaning the chicken coop, feeding the chickens, and collecting eggs for breakfast for everyone. Grabbing the trays of filled egg cartons, she heads back to the house to start making some food. Remi kicks off her boots on the patio before entering the house and was greeted by a few of her brothers, Hotch, Rossi and Spencer awake and sitting at the island in the kitchen.

     “Good mornin’, carbon-based lifeforms.” Remi greeted, earning some groans from Spencer and Rossi. “Well okay then. I got some eggs to make for breakfast if y’all are hungry.” Remi offered, watching Reid, Hotch and Rossi perk up at the mention of food. “Got any coffee?” Hotch asked. “Pfft, who do you think I am!?” Remi and Hotch laughed. “Yeah, it’s over there on the counter.” She pointed out. The rest of the team, Remi’s brothers and her parents started to wake up and make their ways downstairs to the kitchen and out of the living room for some food and coffee. Everyone got a plate of food and some coffee before sitting around the kitchen and living room and enjoying a nice, hot meal together. After a while when everyone was finished and just sitting around talking and drinking coffee, Sawyer spoke up from his seat on the couch. “So, Remi.” He paused, taking a sip of his coffee. “What, Sawyer?” She called out as she was filling up her coffee mug.

     “When are you gonna make your move?” He asked, everyone else also chiming in. “What move?” Emily asked confused. Everyone, including Remi’s parents, were smiling at Remi, and waiting for her to say something. Remi came into view of everyone from the kitchen, looking like a nervous wreck. “Uh…” She cleared her throat. “We can do it now if that’s alright with everyone.” She suggested, getting a ‘yes’ from everyone except for Emily. Emily was sitting at the island along with JJ and Penelope while the rest of the team and Remi’s brothers were sitting around on the 2 sectionals in the living room. Remi came over and stood in front of Emily with something behind her back. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” Emily asked, making everyone laugh. “No, I’m not gonna kill you… I have a surprise for you though. Well, technically two surprises. Anyway, these are for you.” Remi smiled, revealing a bouquet of beautiful red roses, and handed them to Emily. “Oh my gosh, these are gorgeous flowers, Remi. Thank you.” Emily smiled.

     It was still noticeable that the raven-haired beauty was still confused on what the second surprise was going to be. Remi smiled, offering her hand to Emily. “C’mere. I still have that second surprise for you.” Emily took her hand and followed her over to the grand piano that was in the den. There was also a violin, a drum set and an acoustic guitar that were also set up in the den as well. Remi had motioned to Harris, Elijah, and Wyatt to come over as well. Remi had pulled out the piano bench and had let Emily sit down first before sitting down next to her. Once the three boys were ready for Remi’s cue, she had slightly turned to face Emily before they started playing. “Emily, I’ve had the biggest crush on you ever since the moment we had officially met the moment you had accidently spilled your ridiculously hot coffee all over my shirt on my first day at the BAU.” Remi explained, laughing at the memory. She turned her body back to face the piano. “Emily Prentiss, this song is for you.” Remi smiled.

(Cue Song)

(Harris plays violin; Elijah plays drums; Wyatt plays guitar; Remi obviously sings/plays piano)

You don’t have to go now, honey

Call and tell ‘em you won’t be in today

Baby, there ain’t nothin’ at the office

So important it can’t wait

I’m thankful for the weekend

But two days in heaven just ain’t gonna do

This is gonna take forever, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

 What’s the point in fightin’ what we’re feelin’

We both know we’ll never win

Ain’t this what we’re missin’

Let’s just stop all this resistin’ and give in

Let me wrap my arms around you

You know you don’t want to leave this room

Come back and let me hold you, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

   Everyone, especially Emily, were all enjoying hearing Remi and her brothers sing and play the song. They’re also relieved that Remi finally had told Emily how she felt about her and was finally doing something about it.

What can I say, I’ve never felt this way

Girl, you’re like a dream come true

After all the love we’ve made

It sure would be a shame

If we let this moment end so soon

So won’t you lay back down beside me

Girl, just like I know you’re wantin’ to

Trust me when I tell you, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

 I ain’t gonna stop

Oh yeah

 What can I say, I’ve never felt this way

Girl, you’re like a dream come true

After all the love we’ve made

It sure would be a shame

If we let this moment end so soon

 I’m thankful for the weekend

But two days in heaven just ain’t gonna do

This is gonna take forever, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

Come back and let me hold you, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

 Gonna hang out all week long

Laughing, loving, kissing, hugging baby

      After they finished the song, Remi turned herself so that she’s facing Emily and her cheeks started to turn pink as well as the tips of her ears. “So, will you be my girlfriend, Emily?” She asked bashfully. “Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend and it’s about time you asked.” Emily laughed as well as everyone else. Remi beamed, cupping Emily’s face in her hands and leaning forward a bit to kiss her sweetly. Everyone started to cheer, and Penelope decided to shout, “ABOUT TIME!!!” The new couple broke apart from each other and started laughing at Penelope’s excitement when she shouted. Remi and Emily had both stood up from the piano and moved so Remi could put the bench back where it was before exiting the den. They stopped in front of the team when Hotch spoke up. “You both do realize that you’re going to have to go Strauss and tell her, right?” Hotch asked in all seriousness. “Yeah, about that. She already knows.” Remi smirked. “How does she already know about you two getting together?” Hotch asked, clearly confused as his eyebrows furrowed together as everyone else’s did too.

     “Remember that rare sighting of Strauss smiling and being nice to me last week?” Remi asked. “Yeah.” Rossi spoke up. “That’s because she had pulled me into her office and asked when I was going to ask Emily out. And how do y’all think we got 2 weeks of paid vacation time to spend here in Nashville after the case?” Remi chuckled, receiving shocked looks from everyone including Hotch. “For some odd reason, Strauss actually likes me. I don’t know why though.” Remi paused. “And don’t get any ideas about having me asking her for more paid vacations… MORGAN.” Hotch and Rossi laughed, watching Derek putting his hands up in surrender.

     It was around 8:30/9:00 a.m. when there was a knock at the front door. “I’ll get it.” Colten said, getting up from his spot on one of the sectionals. Everyone else was just sitting around together enjoying each other’s company for the time being. Remi and Emily were sitting together on a couple bar stools at the island in the kitchen. “You know, the way that you’re sitting right now is giving me the perfect view down the front of your shirt.” Remi grinned happily, making Emily blush a little bit. “See anything you like!?” Emily asked teasingly. “Oh, very much so.” Remi played along, leaning into kiss Emily. Before the two could kiss, Colten came back into the living room – there is a big opening that connects the kitchen and living room together – and had a few guests with him. “Hey, look what the cat dragged in.” Colten chuckled, moving out of the way to show everyone that Will, Henry, Jack and Louisa had arrived.

     JJ, Hotch and the rest of the team had gotten up off the couch to greet them. “Louisa… Hey sweet girl.” Remi called out as she crouched down so she could greet her dog. Louisa practically ran over and jumped into Remi’s arms and immediately started giving her kisses. “Okay, okay. That’s enough for now. Can you sit?” Remi asked, watching Louisa do what she asked. Remi stood back up and turned to Emily who was smiling at her. “Should I be jealous!?” She asked sarcastically. Remi rolled her eyes at her girlfriend with a smirk. “Emily and the rest of the team, this is my 2-year-old German Shepard, Louisa… Louisa, this is my team that I told you about and this is Emily.” Remi said. “Louisa, can you say hi to everyone?” Louisa barked and nudged Emily’s leg with her paw. “She wants you to shake.” Remi smiled.

     “Hi, Louisa. I’m Emily… I’m your mom’s girlfriend and coworker.” The raven-haired beauty smiled, shaking the dog’s paw. As Louisa made her way around the room to each team member – also including Jack, Henry and Will – to shake hand and paw, Will looked between Remi and Emily before turning to JJ. “Wait, girlfriend?” He asked, earning a nod from everyone. “About time the two of you finally got together.” He laughed.

#emily prentiss x oc #emily prentiss fluff #Emily Prentiss angst #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #home sweet home

[popculturebuffet]

Blacksad: Somewhere In the Shadows Review

Hello you beautiful people! I have a WEIRD relationship with Noir. It’s weird because i’ve never really dived into the films of type, though I really should, But as a kid I absolutely LOVED the tracer bullet arcs in Calvin and Hobbes, where everyone’s favorite hyperactive and imaginative six year old would plant himself as the hero in a noir pastiche.. ironically like myself Bill Watterson was also not a huge noir buff and just relied on Cliches but hey, it worked. 

Still love these. So from fourth grade on it imprinted a lifelong love of a good bit of detective noir. Not enough to you know, get me to read any traditional noir books or watch any noir tv shows or detective procedurals but I still love a good mystery from time to time and some of my favorite comics such as Howard the Duck by Chip Zdarksy and Peter David’s second run on x-factor run on the genre while having fun with it’s cliches. 

I also love anthropormphic animal stories. Dunno why, I just do, so once I found out about Blacksad, a comic that combines disney quality art from a former disney animator with gripping, adult noir that rips your heart out... I couldn’t resisit trying it. Telling the tale of John Blacksad, a cynical private detective and the cases he steps into via gorgeous, straight out of a disney storyboard art, the series is by  Juan Díaz Canales (writer) and Juanjo Guarnido (artist), the latter a former Disney artist who worked on several Disney films, meeting in the 90′s while working on licensed works and hitting it off, leading to this series.  That’s.. really all I could find about the making of the series in English. The only other fact is the series is designed for first release in France, which has a huge comics market, hence the various volumes being called “Albums”, with them later being released in Spain and then english, currently in the latter through Dark Horse Comics, who last year collected the current 5 albums and some side stories into one big volume. And with Dark Horse having infrequent sales including Blacksad on comixology it’s easy enough to pick up all 5 volumes in one complete package on digital for 9 bucks, as it is right now. Seriously I’m not trying to shill for Comixology or Dark Horse, I just love these comics and suggest picking them up. The creators DO intend on new volumes... it’s just both have been busy with other work so they’ve been stuck in development hell since 2013. However given there have always been, if much smaller, the biggest being 5 years, gaps between the Albums, I don’t think the series is dead quite yet and with Dark Horse fully backing it, taking the series from only two volumes getting translated to both translating the first four AND translating the fifth within a year of it’s release, we’ll undoubtly get the next one quickly. The series has also spawned a game, Under the Skin, which i’ll probably also cover some day as i’m dying to play it, but i’m waiting for a sale because it’s around 30 bucks and I can wait. It’s also been nominated for an Eisner three times to no suprise and has had fans in Stan Lee, Jim Steranko, Tim Sale and Will freaking Eisner. Yes the GUY the awards were named after liked the series.  So yeah, I love this series and highly support it, but the thought of covering it hadn’t occrued to me.. in part because I already had three comic retrsopectives going, my looks at The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, Scott Pilgrim and New X-Men, and simply because I just hadn’t thought of it till Kevin, frequent patron and comissioner of the blog whose paid for tons of reivews, suggested covering the second Album, Arctic Nation, which has our hero searching for a missing little girl he feels has been taken by the titular white supramacist movement.. and if your wondering “Wait how the fuck does that work their animals”, John is black coded due to his black fur, while the white suprmacists are all Arctic Animals.. a touch I really like as I’d honestly never thought of that as a metaphor but it fits like a glove, especially given that most white furred arctic mamals are pretty agressive looking. So yeah I’ll be covering that one next month for Black History Month, among many other things, but I felt I wanted to cover the series in order and since again, it’s only the second of five and I had a free space on the schedule. So without further adew, join me somewhere in the shadows and under the cut as we enter the world of one John Blacksad. 

We open as you’d expect for a Noir with a heady narration and a murder. John was brought in by Smirnov, the chief of police and an old aquantice who serves as his Commissioner Gordon. Since the victim is John’s ex, he was brought in to see if he knows anything and as you’d expect warned not to look into it further, as John dosen’t buy this was a simple robbery. His response is exactly what you’d expect. 

I mean.. what did you expect? You called him out of bed to see his former lovers corpse, KNOWING he’s one hell of detective, dosen’t give up on things easy, and would probably be curious. For him to say “Cool gonna go smoke some reefer and take in a looney tunes short at the theater, call me when you find the murderer?” Also  this series takes place in the 50s. Because of course it does. 

So John goes back to his office to brood, reflecting that the office feels like the remains of an ancient civlization because “It seems to be all that remains of the civlized person I used to be”. Hell of a line. 

We then get his backstory with the victim, Natalia. She’s a famous actress, who John first as a younger man when hired to investgate some death threats she’d received with a boquet of flowers. John shows off just how good he is at his job in just a few panels. 

IT not only shows in just a few panels just how ferocious our hero can be when needed and how good he is at his job, easily having tracked down the man responsible and scared him shitless without breaking as sweat, but how fucking gorgeous the art is. I meant it when I brought up the old disney comparison, as Steranko even mentioned in his introduction to the collection of the first three volumes how it looks like animation cels on the page. IT’s utterly breathtaking and ONLY gets even more lush and beautiful as the series goes on and perfectly fits the noir stylings with it’s realisim, making it’s animal characters feel utterly human and real while still keeping their animal traits in perfect detail. 

John impressed her, and as we see in the next page under his narration they not only had really steamy passionate sex, and why yes we do see them naked even if the bits are covered it’s still very much nsfw and we saw Natalia’s naked corpse earlier, so that ship had already sailed anyway, with Natalia taking him on both as her lover and her on staff detective and the two were much in love.. until the fame apparenlty got to her judging from the visuals, and the realtionship fell apart. 

Before we move on i’d like to talk about the narration which CAN be a bit overwrought here or there and is a bit overused.. but does have it’s mometns of being utterly effective as with above, contrasting John’s statments about a sucessful job and being hired on.. with the beginnings of his and Natalia’s relationship and their passionate lovemaking. IT’s not BAD and it works for the setting, but it can be distracting, but thankfully the series levels this out as we go and they learned from it so no harm done. Just the kinda thing that happens early in a series life when the creators are getting a handle on things, so no harm done. 

But naturally John isn’t going to take the love of his life, responsible for the happiest days of said life, being brutally murdered lying down and is going to find the bastard who did this. So he goes to an old friend, Jake Ositombe, a championship boxer and Nat’s former bodyguard who he recommended to her. Given we see him knock the shit out of his opponent without the slightest effort, yeah good call. Also yes we share the same name and no it’s not weird to type about another Jake, adventure time sorta.. knocked that out of me. Jake dosen’t know much since she fired him a long time ago as one of her lovers hired private security, and the last one he knew of was a guy by the name of Leon.  John, naturally, easily finds the guy’s apartment, Leon Kronkski, a screenwriter.. but also rules him out as the guy lived in a humble apartment and clearly didn’t have the cash to hire his own hired goons. 

He does find a clue, a matchbook for some place called the Cypher Club.. and another when the man’s sweet  mouse landlady shows up, who John charms by pretending to be Leon’s friend and flashing a big smile, finding out a msyterious man with “big bulging eyes”, took him. This scene also to me is great in subtly showing off John’s skill. While the previous flashback showed how badass he is, shoving a gun down the throat of a stalking wannabe murderer with pure rage in his eyes.. here we see a lighter approach, how despite his serious and dour nature.. he easily slips into being cheery and looking like an average joe off the street. He bluffs the landlady not because the plot says so.. but because like any PI he’s just that good at slipping into whatever roll he needs to get the info he needs. He can be his dour self or a charming happy go lucky guy without missing a beat. 

So with that he goes to the studio leon worked for where his boss.. is a walrus j jonah jameson?

But yeah J. Jonah Walruson wants pictures of spider-man.. moving pictures.. but he can’t film them with his star dead and his screenwriter indefintiely gone, with the same bulging eyed man having told JJ he’d be gone indefintely. Nothing suspicious about that!

So naturally John’s next plan is to find the guy.. who is already after him as you’d expect with both a knife to slash at our hero with and the fog covering him so he can hit and run. But unluckily for him .. well i’ll let john say it...

John  headbutts the myserious snake, who only managed to get his coat before and tries to interogate him.. but gets a quick jab to the gut and the guy gets away. 

We soon meet our big bag, who has a big speech about insects and things being usefufl.. and once they stop being useful.. they become dead and collectable, telling the snake man to back off John.. and sending his right hand man to go take care of the Snake who apparently took something from the office. Realizing his numbers up the Snake Man goes to a lizard bar, picks up a package from a friend and runs out the back, knowing he’s being followed.. and we get some hints there’s also racial tension between lizards and mammials here as the bartender, said friend, has the entire bar circle around the guy preventing him from following our mysterious bulging eyed man. 

Meanwhile John goes to the Cipher Club, a wretched hive of scum and villiany. Given Nat was a glamorous movie star, it’s very clear she was here to hide from something or someone, and the bartnender, a wild pig. 

No not you sweetie. The wild pig tells John leon was indeed here and a local rat, in both senses of the word, offers to take John to him.. though understandably John is supscious of the guy he just met in a seedy bar taking him anywhere except to get some heroin. Did Heroin exist yet? Questions for later. But he’s got a case so he follows. Though suprisingly the guy DOES actually come through and it’s not ENTIRELY a trap: he takes john to a tomb for Noel Krinsok.. an anagram for Leon’s name. Unsuprisingly he’s dead. And also unsuprisingly, two hired goons

Show up. As I said not ENTIRELY a trap but it’s obvious given the rat split moments before that our mysterious big bad knew where john would be headed next, and thus while giving him a clue, also set him up to get his head knocked in. And while John is badass.. these guys are a bear and a rhino,  both stronger, bigger, and with suprise on their size, as well as a tombstone to knock john’s head into. They easily beat him senseless and hope he got the message, though john gives a defiant fuck you before being punched out for it. He returns home, feeling like he’s aged 20 years “But no one respects the elderly anymore”, PFFT, and heads home to his rathole, not literally this time, apartment to lay on his cot and think as he gets some rest. 

And while the trail for Leon is cold. our mysterious murderer accidently tipped his hand: only someone with a LOT of money and influence could make a man disappear like this, and it tracks with what we’ve seen so far. The guy has multiple henchman and despite being a big star with plenty of clout, Natalia had to hide in a dive bar just to get away from him and even THEN clearly wasn’t so lucky given she and her new lover both wound up dead.  But Blacksad has bigger problems.. he wakes up in a jail cell.

Turns out Smirnkov had him arrested.. but for his own protection as the case is getting too hot and while he was late on that front given John’s face is hamburger, it’s clear from his tone and demeanor that while he may of been harsh with John earlier.. the two are old friends, and the Chief is simply worried about him winding up dead, and John takes you know being thrown in prison in stride. Which while not a bad scene it is a BIT suspect that a black coded character was thrown in jail for nothing and it’s treated very lightly and as a simple protection between friends, though given they wouldn’t think of coding john like that till next volume, I brush it off as accidental implications in hindsight. 

Smirnkov though also called John here.. because he needs his help. Since Natalia’s Murder Case is pointing very high up, so his superiors have ordered him to bury the case and as he puts it “the bastards know where to squeeze”. And given in volume 3 we learn Smirnov has a wife and children, it’s very obvious where they squoze and to the volume’s credit while we don’t know that yet it’s VERY clear from Smirnov’s body language they went after some form of family. So while he has to give it up.. John does not. So he brought him to jail to offer a proposal: John goes after this son of a bitch and nails him to the wall.. and Smirnov will FULLY protect John no matter what he has to do.  Now naturally given the rightful reckoning for police that’s been going on for almost a year, this SHOULDN’T play well. You have an officer outright telling an outside party that he and his boys will cover up his crimes. But.. honestly even in that framework.. it still works. That’s because.. the system has failed here. The higher up and more corrupt cops put pressure on the honest and hardworking family man Smirnov to stop a legitimate investigation into a horrible murderer.. because the guy is rich. And even now we’ve seen time and time again how rich assholes effortlessly escape the consequences of their action: How our own president who actively asked other nations to interfere in our election escaped his first impeachment trial, but hopefully not the second, aquitted. How Jeffery Epstien took YEARS to bring down with his years of ellicit parties involving innocent women and children he fucking enslaved. How Bill Cosby got away with all kinds of sexual assault for decades. The rich are often literally above the law in this country, so having a down on his luck detective, who retroactively himself is a minority, go after him with the full support of an actually GOOD police officer who genuinely believes in these people being held accountable but is held back by his family’s safety.. it works. John isn’t able to skirt consequences BECAUSE of a corrupt system.. but because the system’s so broken and slanted in the rich’s favor, that the ONLY option an honest officer like Smirnov has is to go outside it. And when asked WHY he’s doing all of this, Smirnov merley replies

... I got chills, their multiplyin. So John plans to find the bulge eyed snake after a hot shower.. only for the guy to hold a gun to John’s head, having been waiting for him and wave the murder weapon, in a baggie around, the item he had retrieved, feeling John’s trying to replace him as number two. However before he can do anything our snake  pal is shot full of holes by the rat from before, who John dispatches with his own gun. 

So the Snake starts to expire.. but feels a kinship with John “We are nothing right cat? Spent so much time waiting for the right chance and when it happens it all falls to pieces”. The Snake explains his roll in things: He was one of the private security our big bad hired to guard Natalia. But being supscious he also hired the rat to follow her around, and thus found out about her affair, brutally torturing and murdering Leon and shooting Natalia in the head. And we finally get a name as our snake friend tragically expires. 

The snake’s death and tragic dying moments are something I forgot about.. but damn if their not really good writing, taking a character who before was seemingly just a murderous goon.. and comparing him to our hero. Another working class joe, and one who just caught up with the wrong asshole at the wrong time. He easily could’ve been john in another life and vice vers and it’s a good parallel. 

So John’s nightmares finally have  name and he naturally goes to confront the guy since he has an almost literal get out of jail free card. Turns out Smirnov is the richest man in town, and has his own big tower. Huh.. sounds familiar, and John simply sneaks his way up and once Statoc’s guards from before hear him rustling about.. sneaks up on them and clocks both one at at time with a fire extinqusher. 

Statoc warmly welcomes our hero inside, and has the fucking lizard balls, as he’s some sort of lizard himself, to offer John a JOB

I mean he’s clearly lost a lot of his goons and most of them were incompetent. He fails to realize that John can’t be bought, is here for vengeance and has no intention of selling his soul to some rich asshole who killed someone he loved for the creepiest and most asinine reasons imaginable. He says john’s Concisence is why he can’t pull the trigger and that he lacks “cold blood”.. before we cut to the next page, where John’s shot the fucker in the head and left a gaping hole where his lack of a brain was. 

And again what makes this work is the aftermath: John is clearly shaken, having ONLY been able to pull the trigger beause of Statoc’s smug grin and clearly not taking the sight of Statoc’s dead body bleeding out well. And while Smirnov keeps his word, covers for him despite the two guards clearly providing an iron clad argument against john and knoiwng thier blatantly covering this up.. he’s not happy about it. 

This is WHY the narrtive still works. Statoc stacked the law against the bad guys. .but despite this being a necessary evil.. it’s still an evil and subverting teh law at this rightly leaves him not in a great place mentally. John himself isn’t even if he plays it off as otherwise, as we get our final bit of narration and one hell of a closing line. 

Final Thoughts:

Somewhere in the Shadows is a bit rough around the edges, leaning a bit too heavily into the noir pastiche and Blacksad being a harboiled detective, something the next volume would ease up on. That being said.. it’s still a masterpiece, with gorgeous art and masterful pacing. While it’s the shortest of the stories, like those after it the pacing is sublime and never feels like it has any down moments or stuff that could’ve been cut, and the mystery keeps you on edge the whole time. Having forgot a lot of the details since last read I was on the edge of my seat the entire story and loving every second of it. Somewhere in the Shadows is the perfect starter for the series, introducing an important charcter in Smirnov and the noir nature and giving us a case personal to John so we can see who he was before, what he is now.. and what he WILL be for the rest of the series. The moment that MADE him into an even harder man than the one we follows here.. when he took a life in cold blood. A masterful story, seriously check it and the other volumes out, on comixology, in stores, great stuff. Next time we look into john and as I said, he’s taking down some racists and we also meet his sidekick weekly for the first time. As for me tommorow I dive back into my Tom Luictor retrospective but hit pause on our boy for a bit to take care of some of the larger plot.   Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure. 

#blacksad #john blacksad #Smirnov #noir #anthropomorphic #anthro #funny animal #somewhere within the shadows #comics #dark horse comics #france #french comics #igor statoc #Natalia Wilford

[bisluthq]

Yo I just know all the swiftwyn antis are like 13 and never had a relationship. Cause there’s no way in hell you’d be ignorant enough to think a couple who has been dealing with weird and fake articles, headlines and tabloids for almost FIVE years will suddenly fall apart cause a bitch said one of ‘em is cheating lmfaoo it’s so funny to me.

As if the fucking GRAMMYs didn’t tweet about “haylor” lmao.

These rumors will arise every now and then now, cause people like drama lmao. I’m 100% sure that Taylor (and Joe) knew from the get go, as soon as he accepted the role, that these things would happen. To think they didn’t talk this through even before shooting started is being mad delusional... And chances are: mfs didn’t even see that tweet loll they are never on social media like.. 🤷🏻‍♀️ antis... y’all ain’t gettin anywhere with your takes

But you see a lot of Swifties - and it isn't just the 13 year old ones - seem to have a completely different attitude to him and to her. It's highkey bizarre. Like there are HUNDREDS of blogs dedicated to cataloging her various past relationships. I remember the day we found out about Lindsey R and were like headcannoning their vibe a bunch of people were like, "Um I don't understand why you're doing this, it's SO disrespectful to Taylor! Like why would you talk about his exes? They're not important!"

So to them it's perfectly reasonable to go into in-depth takes on Haylor, or to say Champagne Problems is about Tom, or Tolerate It is about Calvin (even tho it doesn't fit their dynamic at all but whatever). And Coney Island - a song Joe and Taylor LITERALLY WROTE TOGETHER - was about all her exes according to many mainstream Swifties. They literally matched line by line to her famous public men. And that didn't seem wacky or disrespectful to them. That was just fair enough, right? Like Taylor's life is their little dollhouse.

But the moment you treat Joe as his own person, complete with his own interests and quirks and weird tics and funny stories and yes ex-girlfriends, they freak out.

I would say this CWF is part of that trend. Like people can't process that... yes Joe has his own career. Joe has his own co-stars. Joe can exist outside the realm of Swiftdom, like he's his own person with his own life.

What I do kinda like about this, as I always say, is how it reverses traditional gender roles. There are SO MANY women reduced to "so and so's girlfriend/wife" and it's very fun to see a man whose sole purpose in the minds of many many man 'fans' is "boyfriend/husband" and if he does anything else they think he'll leave lmao.

#swiftwyn anti tag

[petersasteria]

90s Prompt List

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!

My favorite movies in which the prompts are from (in order of the prompts): Pretty Woman, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, The Addams Family, Richie Rich, My Girl, She's All That, The Mirror Has Two Faces (bc Barbra Streisand is queen), Only You, Heart and Souls, and The First Wives Club.

“Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping now.”

“It must be difficult to let go of something so beautiful.”

“I want the fairytale.”

“Welcome to Hollywood! What’s your dream?”

“Do you have anything in this shop as beautiful as she is?”

“Baby, I’m gonna treat you so nice, you’re never gonna wanna let me go.”

“I would like to say this. Tardiness is not something you can do on your own. Many, many people contributed to my tardiness. I would like to thank my parents for never giving me a ride to school, the LA city bus driver who took a chance on an unknown kid and last but not least, the wonderful crew from McDonalds who spend hours making those egg McMuffins without which I might never be tardy.”

“I have direction!” “Yeah, towards the mall.”

“Want to practice parking?” “What’s the point? Everywhere you go has valet.”

“Would you call me selfish?” “No, not to your face.”

“Are you bitches blind?”

“What the hell is that?!” “A dress!” “Says who?” “Calvin Klein!”

“You’re a virgin who can’t drive.”

“As if!”

“Don't let anyone ever make you feel like you don't deserve what you want.”

“Just 'cause you're beautiful, that doesn't mean that you can treat people like they don't matter.”

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

“You're asking me out? That's so cute! What's your name again?”

"What if you found the right man, who worshiped and adored you? Who'd do anything for you, who'd be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?" “I’d pity him.”

“Does it matter?”

“Are they made from real girl scouts?”

“Hey, man, just checking out your crib here.”

“Who you callin’ an idiom?”

“I like this street look on you, ___. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were almost normal.” “Thanks, I think.”

“I used to think you were just some spoiled rich kid. But now, you’re not so bad.” “Yeah, likewise.”

“I’m wondering if you guys can come over this weekend and hangout with me. Like normal kids do.”

“How come all we do is talk about money? Why don’t we do something fun?” “Money is fun!”

“Why do you think people want to get married?” “When you get old, you just have to.”

“It’s a mood ring. It tells me what mood I’m in.” “It doesn’t work, it only stays black.” “It’s only black when you’re around because you put me in a bad mood.”

“Shut your big fat mouth!”

“Can I stay for a while?” “You can stay forever.”

“I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

“You are lovelier this morning than you have ever been.”

“She kinda blew me off.” “I like her already.”

“What is this, some sort of dork outreach program?”

“She’s an institution. Every girl wants to be her and every guy wants to nail her.” “Basically she’s you, with tits.”

“Am I a bet? AM I A FUCKING BET?”

“Is that a no?” “That’s a hell no.”

“Screw the dolphins.” “A guy tried that last year, banned from SeaWorld for life.”

“When my date takes me home and kisses me good night, if I don’t hear the Philharmonic in my head, I dump him.”

“It’s not a date. We’re just agreeing to sit at the same table.”

“To tell you the truth, I think your theories about relationships are total bullshit.”

“I believe in love and lust and sex and romance. I don't want everything to add up to some perfect equation. I want mess and chaos. I want someone to go crazy out of his mind for me. I want to feel passion and heat and sweat and madness. I want Valentines and Cupids and all the rest of that crap. I want it all.”

“I never thought about what I would feel; I was only thinking about you! I only wanted to make you happy! I never thought I was good enough for you." "But you are good enough for me, ___. You are, you are!" "I know, I know! But ___, you're not good enough for me."

“You are nuts about me! We are made for each other!”

“How could you do this to me?” “Because I’m in love with you!” “Ha! What kind of an excuse is that?”

“There’s nothing you could tell me that would change the way I feel about you.” “I’m engaged. We’re due to be married in 9 days.” “Whoa, whoa! Except possibly that.”

“I don’t believe in anything anymore! I don’t believe in the moon or the stars, or the sun… or destiny or magic- or men!”

“Hey, life’s tough. Sometimes you don’t get what you want. Mostly you don’t get what you want.”

“I’m saying goodbye to both my sons.”

“I’ll fail, I’m telling you. I always fail.”

“You’re so afraid of being hurt, you’re gonna end up all alone.”

“I am so proud of you.”

“You think that because I’m a movie star, I don’t have feelings. Well, you’re wrong. I’m an actress. I’ve got all of them!”

“I want a divorce.” “B-But we just made love! I mean, you asked me out!”

𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @cocoamoonmalfoy @thatforgottenangel @parkerpeter24 @turtoix @slutforsr @givebuckyhisplumsnow @runawayolives @hollandsrecs @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @juliediggory @rumplebutterbaby @dummiesshort @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @moonlight-onyx @bora-world @supred12 @more-like-reyna @caitsymichelle13 @aayaissaa @wannabemobwife @sunwardsss @bigassnocash @repostcentral @catsandbooksandstuff

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @alinastarkrovs @celestialholland @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg @emmastarz @moonchild-s-blog @itszulli @imcalledflorence @blossomhollands

#k's movie monday: 90s #k's movie mondays #k's works #petersasteria #prompts

[quatschmachen]

Bitchumen

A nice heartwarming sort of xmas fic. Phone call takes place in 2000, the xmas in 1999.

Edward rants to someone about something.

XXX “Right, like you can actually understand what’s going on.” The sarcasm dripped thick like bitumen from Edward’s tongue, the sticky anger clinging to every surface.“You treating me with the polite decency of a stranger doesn’t actually make you a good person, Calvin – it doesn’t even make you a friend.”

Blowing a breath out, Edward rubbed his face, his shoulders stuck between wanting to spike up in stiff defense or simply drop down in defeat.

“Which is why you get the couch,” here his arms crossed, brooking no argument, “I don’t even know why you thought it was going to be fine just showing up, months after being an asshole thinking I would even put you up. I just know Edith would have you out on your ass, and honestly you’re lucky you got me when I was even in town. Hold on… Mr. Big Shot, you have enough money to get a fucking hotel room, why the shit am I even considering you to stay here with me? Why the hell am I not throwing you out on your ass?”

Another breath out, and Edward sighed, “No, this won’t do.”

With a slump, he plopped onto the couch, and glanced around his small living room, wondering why the hell he was even practicing this as a conversation. Calvin hadn’t dropped by in months. It wasn’t like he was going to any time soon. The lines had been clearly drawn, and even an entitled oil cowboy wasn’t going to pretend everything hadn’t changed.Apparently the weeks off were just giving him time to go crazy. Usually this would be the time he would jet off to Montreal, but instead he was stuck in his house losing it. He was worried if he showed up on Étienne’s doorstep he would just start crying. Definitely not a thing to do.

His thoughts were disrupted as the telephone began to ring. With a sigh, he rolled off the couch and grabbed it. “Hello?”

“Eddy!” Étienne’s voice rang out through the phone and wrapped around him like a warm hug.

“’Tienne,” Edward breathed out, automatically relaxing, he flomped down into the seat beside the telephone.

“I’ve been calling for weeks and thought you had died,” he joked, but the edge of worry was still there.

“Sort of had.” Edward murmured, “Actually I sort of moved out, I guess. Mac came down in January and I ended up moving north with him and picked up a hitch. Just got off and am laying around at home too dead to do anything.”

“Hitch?”

“Uhm working in the oil patch. Living at camp, pretty much isolated from the world…”

“Surrounded by big burly men? You could have at least sent me a postcard, Eddy,” Étienne teased, but there was an underlying tone Edward had difficulty deciphering, “I was thinking if it was my turn to come pull you out of the swamp of misery.”

“I guess I could have but… to be honest it all sort of just happened?” Edward sighed, “And once I was up in Fort Mac, and then out working, it’s difficult to really communicate. Just work till you drop, then into the camp to exercise or watch porn.”

“What? They actually supply porn?”

“And sometimes even prostitutes, but that’s apparently not truly allowed…” Edward paused, “but unfortunately no prostitutes were of interest to me.”

“How unfortunate. I was up to my eyeballs with inconvenient work,” Étienne paused, “Christmas was about the same as always, Suzette passes along her best wishes. The food was divine, and I ended up losing an arm-wrestling match to Élyse.”

Edward laughed, “What were the stakes?”

“Hmmm, well she got to eat my slice of cake; it was some terrible cake Samuel had made – yes I know, please believe me when I say he made this cake. Truly no real artisan of food would have produced something as terrible as that cake. I think it ostensibly was supposed to be a fruit cake – with a thick layer of chalky marzipan on top. Somehow he managed to over-alcohol a cake while having it be dry at the same time. I was ready to submit it to the Guinness Book of Records…”

“So why was Élyse battling you for your slice?”

“You see, I may have already had a fight or two with Samuel – he has some new boytoy, and he was being so insipid and sickly about it, I may have been ready to fight over any little thing. Élyse figured if I got rid of the slice via arm wrestling it could possibly save Christmas or something. Yadda yadda. Apparently no one seems to enjoy the Christmases when Samuel breaks down in angry tears and yells for an hour – not sure why when I find that sooooooo entertaining.”

“God I wish I was there for that… seeing Samuel’s face as if he was punched when he tries to cry elegantly is so therapeutic…” Edward murmured, “I feel like my Christmas was just me being the crying one.”

“Crying? What happened, Édouard?”

Squiggling in his seat, Edward wondered how much he should tell. A part of him wanted to spill it all, but another part wondered if that would be too much of an inconvenience. How much of his stupid worries did Étienne really want? Closing his eyes, Edward pretended they were in the same room together, maybe even touching, head on Étienne’s shoulder, not necessarily looking at the man, but bodies snuggled up, his hair getting played with. Those small stolen moments of bliss, where the worries got spilled, and he didn’t worry about the consequences.

“Christmas was so awkward; I don’t even know where to begin. The entire time I desperately wished I had gone to yours… it felt like the last time I try to be a functional person among them… hell, I only went because I thought maybe I could improve relations with people… start the new millennium off with some hope about the future.”

It really had been terrible. They had held it at the ranch – Bert’s ranch. Why the hell did he think hanging out with people at the ranch would be a good idea? Surrounded by people you probably should know better, but in reality only held passing pleasantries with. The one bright spot had been Calvin. Calvin who seemed to be best buddies with everyone who arrived, Calvin who smiled brightly at him and argued with him, distracting him from the knot of anxiety he was harbouring over whether he should come out during Christmas or hold off until New Years?

He was attempting small talk with Jo, who was talking at him about how they should go shopping together (did she not do other stuff?), when he overheard Bert loudly say “I personally don’t think those fags should be given the deal.”

It felt like time had slowed down for Edward. No one seemed to pause or care. Orson in fact nodded along with Bert’s rant, sipping his Sprite. Jo continued on with her plans for her next visit, and somewhere nearby Red laughed at a joke Madeline made. As he observed the room to see if there was any reaction to Bert’s loud rant, everyone was involved in their own conversations. Calvin was in the distance deep in conversation with someone he could not quite make out. 

Right, this was not the place. He still wanted turkey dinner, and as he dimly nodded along to Jo, Edward felt small. He had no allies here. Well, that wasn’t true. He was sure Edith supported him, but one in how many? Edward didn’t want to ‘ruin Christmas’.

“And you know how I’ve been thinking about coming out and stuff, but uh, can I just say no? If you were in the room you would understand – seriously Étienne, these people who claim to be my so called family would just as well lynch me as their Christmas bonfire – I dunno they could just douse me in bitumen and light me up human torch Christian martyr style for bringing the faggotry home for Christmas… Soooo I didn’t want to ruin Christmas and make the event awkward for everyone,” Edward related over the phone.

“And then horror of horrors, Orson managed to corner me in what he thinks is jovial conversation. It felt like everything he had to say to me was condescension masked in care and concern – honestly I am not sure how he even manages that. I think he felt like it was his civic duty to carry on a conversation with me. He even reminisced about the temple open house he dragged me to. Ok honestly I went to the open house out of curiosity, to see what sort of cult he’s in, but I didn’t think he would already be reminiscing about something that had literally JUST happened. Temple? Yeah, a Mormon temple just opened up in my city… so it meant I had the pleassssuuure of Orson coming up for the Open House and dragging me along. Stay with me? God no, please ‘Tienne I’m not that insane, what would I do if he snooped and found my big old dildo? Yeah he was staying with some church people since he was volunteering and such.”

“I think I wanted to die when he sat down at the piano – yeah, I didn’t even think Bert ever tuned that thing, but knowing Orson maybe he came extra early to tune it, and began banging out the Christmas carols. Like he’s talented and all, and I don’t mind a round of Jingle Bells, but he really has this creepy 1950s vibe and I wanted to roll my eyes when his eyes started to shine with unshed tears at Away in a Manger and O Holy Night.” Edward twisted the cord around his finger, as he listened to Étienne chuckle. Apparently the tactic was avoid talking about himself and instead rant about goody-two-shoes Orson? “You should count yourself lucky you don’t have to deal with him on a regular basis… mmm? Yeah he is kind, considerate and is literally the guy to volunteer for the worst tasks but there is something about him where he is a little too perfect? Like somehow can’t let my hair down around him type of deal. Which makes him perfect for Lilith – as she always has her hair up, haha.”

Edward had relaxed into his seat, somehow feeling lighter, as the words slipped out, “And then New Years was somehow worse… no I wasn’t at the ranch. I probably should have taken you up on your fireworks show, because the one here is uh Edmonton grade. You know – trying real hard but still somehow failing to miss the mark,” he chuckled at his own joke, not picking up on the strained tension from Étienne over the phone. “Calvin came up, which surprised me since I assumed he would want to be gallivanting about in Calgary, but apparently he wanted to spend it with his best buddy which is me? Somehow? Don’t worry Teddy, you’re still my best friend…” Edwards voice lowered, as he realized what he was about to say, admit. Pause. “So how was your New Years? Aahh why are you yelling – oh you’re saying I didn’t mention why New Years sucked? It’s because it wasn’t with you, darlin’.”

Somehow Edward couldn’t do it. Couldn’t quite bring himself around to admitting he had come out to Calvin. How he had fallen into a depression when he got outright rejected. “Hmm? Well, how else can I put it… while I could have been kissing you and sucking your cock, I instead got to hold Calvin’s hair back as he literally puked in my poinsettias… yes… mmhmm. The poor plant didn’t make it.”

Tangling his finger in the phone cord, Edward found himself relaxing as Étienne told him about his New Years event, feeling like he had dodged a bullet. The other man’s voice soothing him. Trying to be home for Christmas and the New Years - attempt to enter the new millennium as a man of his own place, had been a major mistake.

He should have kept to his original plans of escaping to Montreal, escaping his own clay dirt to mold himself into his own dream man.Sometimes he wondered if he loved Étienne or simply wanted to be Étienne. A complicated mixture of feelings confusing him ever more when it came to that man.

“Visit? I would love to visit… oh wait, you want to come visit me? When? Hmm let me… check my calendar.” Edward sat up, looking around, and then picked up the phone, carefully picking his way into the kitchen, so he could squint at the calendar. His telephone cord ran out though, so he had to do an awkward strain, trying not to unplug the phone, while seeing his own scribbled-in life.

Well… the only thing really was his work shifts. Everything else a blank. “How does this time work? You’re booked up. Alright…” Edward and Étienne haggled over dates, until somehow, it lined up that Edward was going to Montreal. A subtle shift, but as Edward said with some practicality – that’s just how it lined up. As he hung up the phone, he wrote down the date of his trip, feeling better. Now in between work was a small bright spot, one small thing to look forward to.He was not as friendless as he thought, and, perhaps with enough courage, he could finish his New Years story.        

#quatschfic #pc: edmonton #pc: montreal #pc: calgary #pc: alberta #pc: cardston #bitchumen

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (29)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: Tessa finally learns what Lobe has in store for her people...

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

“That smells awful,” she tells him as he takes a seat across from her, setting down his mug in the process.

“It’s peppermint tea,” says with a smirk.

Tessa scrunches up her nose. “That’s disgusting. Be a man and drink some coffee.”

Cal lets out a smooth sort of chuckle as he leans back in his chair. “Nah. I gave up coffee a while ago. Too many jitters.” He cocks an eyebrow at her. “Maybe you should try tea too.”

She gives him an odious look. “I’m not jittery.”

“Okay,” he drawls out amid a sardonic laugh.

“I’m not,” she protests. “What the fuck?”

“See that?” he points at her. “That is irritability. Still working too much and never sleeping?” he asks with a knowing smirk. “You should at least try to stop drinking coffee after four.”

“Thanks for the advice,” she deadpans.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. In a low voice, he asks, “Want some more advice?” She simply stares ahead at him. “Back out of this meetup with Lobe.”

“Why?”

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes to avoid her glare. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“Cal – ”

“No,” he interrupts, looking up and jerking his hands into a silencing posture. “What are you doing?”

There’s a very real, very palpable tension in the air that throws her off. She’d been trying to block out his energy ever since he sat down, not at all interested in reliving old times by pulling in his… essence. But she couldn’t block out the unease he was putting out now. It was a sort of anger and apprehension in one, perhaps a bit of hostility too. She looks up at him with confused eyes. “Why are you so mad?” she asks without thinking.

“Mad?” he repeats, face turning stern. He leans in even further and hisses out, “I know you’re not looking for another job. I know that Stark just asked you to run some new division.”

Taken aback, she asks, “How do you know that?”

He scoffs. “People talk, sugar.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean I’m taking it. I figure, now’s a good time to look around and see if there’s anything… better out there.”

“Better than being on the board of what is arguably the single most powerful corporation in the world?” He gives her a skeptical stare. “Bullshit.”

“You don’t know me,” she replies, sounding every bit the petulant child. “Not anymore.”

He simply smiles in return. “Yes I do.” His eyes narrow as he continues to stare her down. “Now what are you up to?”

She looks away, leans back with her coffee cup in hand, and turns her gaze out the window to the passersby on the street. With a long sigh, she mutters, “How bad is it?” When Cal doesn’t respond, she turns her eyes back toward him, sees him shift uncomfortably in his seat. “What’s he doing, Cal?”

“He’s trying to create the Third Species,” he says without preamble.

For the briefest of moments, Tessa’s breath is taken away. The Third Species. It’s something that Xavier had taught them all about. When she was still a child, she had read John Sublime’s bizarre manifesto about worthy humans who could attain special powers by reaping them from enhanced individuals. These men and women could choose the abilities they believed they deserved… and then steal them from others. From mutants. In Sublime’s mind, mutants were nothing more than some sort of crop, something to be harvested and broken down and consumed for the benefit of others. It had turned her stomach that someone would think that way. And it had given her nightmares to realize that his ideas had sparked a sort of cult following.

During her time in the X-Men, there were at least two instances when they encountered these followers. They’d dubbed themselves the U-Men. And while they certainly played the part of dangerous, radical extremists, they did not ever seem to have any sort of special powers, despite claiming that they one day would. But what if they were right? What if they could harvest mutant powers and use them to enhance themselves. That sort of thing wasn’t exactly out of the realm of possibility. After all, Dr. Sublime had been a participant in the Weapon X program that had turned Logan into the Wolverine… and the Super Soldier program that had successfully created Captain America from a sickly, spindly Steve Rogers.

“He’s part of the U-Men?” she asks hesitantly.

Cal almost laughs. “Those lunatics? No way. This guy… he’s way more dangerous than a bunch of dorky zealots.” He raises an assessing brow. “He’s a businessman. And he recognizes an opportunity.”

“To give people… super powers?” Her voice goes high at the end, taking on a disbelieving and almost fearful tone.

“Look around, sugar,” he says, falling back into his seat. “Ever since aliens invaded our planet and your boss put together a band of merry gentleman with superpowers of their own to fight it… everybody wants to be… better.”

Her brow furrows as she states, “That’s not true.”

“Okay, not everybody. Some people want everyone with super powers to be eradicated.” She gives him a horrified look and he smiles at her gently. “What happens every time there’s another mass shooting in this country?” he asks. When she doesn’t respond, only twists her face in confusion, he goes on. “People either want to ban all guns… eliminate the threat. Or they want to arm themselves to the teeth so that they can fight fire with fire.” He reaches across the table and lays his hand on top of hers. “People are scared. And they want to be able to protect themselves. Now more so than ever. And in this day and age – when aliens attack and robots plan a genocide and the number of mutants born everyday is on the rise… and now inhumans? People are looking for more than just a conceal and carry license to protect themselves and their loved ones.”

She sits with that for a long moment before shaking off his hand and sitting upright. “So he’s taking Sublime’s plans for creating the Third Species and he’s going to try to make it a reality. And then he’s going to sell it,” she states, no question in her words.

Calvin nods. “He’s already got a team of four scientists working on it. Two geneticists, including Scofield. And two bioengineers. The plan is to attack the problem from both sides.”

“Because Sublime believed that tissue transplantation would cause the genesis of mutant powers in the host,” she extrapolates.

“And there might be some validity to that,” he continues. “At least that’s what the bioengineers are saying.”

“But really, the best option would be gene therapy.”

“Which Sublime was unaware of in his day,” he supplies. “So Lobe’s thinking that between the two disciplines he can accomplish what that other lunatic couldn’t.”

Her features darken and her hands wrap so tightly around the mug in front of her that her fingers go white. “Where is he getting the… materials?”

Cal breathes out slowly. “I’ve brought him a few black market items. Ones I’ve managed to acquire through old contacts.”

She closes her eyes and tries to fight off the sudden swell of nausea. “Because you’re in acquisitions.”

“Everything’s still just getting started,” he assures her. “They’re only running preliminary tests… or something. I know they aren’t into any trials yet.” He pauses and a shadow flits across his face. “It’s only a matter of time before they start looking for candidates.” She looks up at him and he hesitates before saying, “For harvesting.”

Tessa nods her head, the movement growing more insistent as she thinks about what’s been said. And what needs to be done. “So we have to shut him down,” she mumbles, mostly to herself. “We have to make sure it doesn’t get that far.”

He reaches across the table and takes hold of her wrist. With his other hand, he wrestles the coffee mug from her grip and then holds tightly to both of her hands. “I promise you I won’t ever participate in anything like… that.” With a serious look and a more intense squeeze, he says, “But I don’t know that you or anyone else can stop this train.”

She pulls away harshly, her eyes suddenly shooting around the café cagily. “How can you say that?”

“It’s the times we’re living in, sweetheart. Look around you.”

“So I should just stand by and do nothing? Just let some… some human use my people for profit?”

He laughs bitterly. “Your people? Give me a fucking break.” He gives her a disgusted look. “When was the last time you even talked to your people? To your family?”

“That’s not…” she starts, losing the words to defend herself almost immediately.

“You’ve been hiding and denying who you are for so long…” He scoffs loudly. “At this point, I’m more in touch with mutants than you are.”

“God help them, then,” she issues out angrily.

“Look, you want to finally stop pretending you’re something you’re not, great. Go for it. I, for one, think the world could use Supernova right about now.” She visibly flinches when he uses the name. Supernova. An alias she hasn’t heard nor spoken aloud in years. “But I’m telling you, for your sake, stay away from Lobe.”

She leans across the table, positioning herself mere inches from him. “I won’t let this go,” she says. “I will bring him down. So I’m telling you, for your sake, stay out of my way.” And she rises and storms out of the café.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky x original female character #bucky barnes x oc #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfiction #Supernova

[calvinmaxfield]

( booboo stewart. twenty-four. he/him. ) i think i just saw CALVIN MAXFIELD ride by on a golf cart . at least i think it was them . after all , STRAIGHT TO HELL BY THE CLASH was blasting on the transistor radio . maybe they were on their way to work , i hear they’re a LINE COOK . but they totally could have been on their way to STEAL SHOOTERS FROM THE BEVERAGE CART . guess we’ll never know . you’ll definitely know its them when you see PATCHES ON A WORN JEAN JACKET , CIGARETTES FORGOTTEN IN THE WASHING MACHINE , & AN UNUSED MUSICAL THEATRE DEGREE around the country club . let’s just hope they stay off the green after hours or else they sprinklers will get them ! ( haley. twenty-two. est. she/her. )

𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 :  calvin antonio maxfield  .  𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒(𝑠) :  cal , maxxie .  𝑎𝑔𝑒 :  twenty - five  .  𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒  𝑜𝑓  𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ :  march 4th , 1996 .  𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ  𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑡 :  pisces  sun  ,  virgo  moon  ,  capricorn  rising  .  ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛 :  north caldwell  ,  new jersey  .  𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙  𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 :  bisexual  .  𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑢𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 :  line cook begrudgingly . has bigger aspirations for himself but settles for an easy job over one he has to work for . aspiring in everything film whether it be acting , screenwriting , direction or anything in between . has also entertained stand-up comedy but had never taken the steps towards achieving that goal either . 

ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 : self proclaimed narcissist but is super self aware about his insecurities , is a whore lol , seems like he’d be the least judgmental person but is secretly super judgmental , will risk it all for a sexual connection possibly resulting in a romantic one , hasn’t cried in years , female manipulator music , thinks being called a theatre kid is a slur but was super well known for getting every lead role in high school and college , wants to be a stand up comedian or actor , could kill for a woman to braid his hair , will do anything for attention , noncommittal , the loudest person in a room but is insecure about his volume , the class clown , could be your friend for a lifetime and you still wouldn’t be sure if he likes you or not . 

𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚 :  booboo stewart  .  ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟 :  black  .  𝑒𝑦𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟 :  brown  .  ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 :  5  ft  8 “  .  𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑠 :  to be determined but a littered , jumbled sleeve of meaningless drunk tattoos mostly .   𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑡𝑦𝑙𝑒 :  heavy punk rock . jean jackets plastered with patches , heavy boots , flannels tied at the waist line . heavy rings on slender fingers . a hair tie on each wrist . jeans or chef pants , no in between . fucks with an occasional open button down tee . 

𝑚𝑦𝑒𝑟 - 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒 :  the  debater  ,  entp  .   𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑙  𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡  :  chaotic  good  .  𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 :  black cold brew with a cigarette , mindlessly rewatching taxi driver for comfort , quoting the sopranos , being right , comfortable silence , busy environments , making others smile .  𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 :  gossip , commitment , the transition from autumn to winter , cats , folding laundry , hungover anxiety.  

𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 : ( drug tw , child neglect tw ) . 

the class clown , the smart ass . these are just two of the labels that have been placed on calvin maxfield his whole life . he’s not even sure if he likes being called them , to know he’s being perceived by others is to know he’s truly alive . that he is seen . on one hand , he’d only ever wanted a disappearing act . one where he slips into the background with anyone truly noticing . a universe where he’s not putting on a face of clown make up to entertain . but on the other hand , he’s good at it . he’s good at entertaining and he likes seeing people smile . so why does calvin have so many qualms with being well liked ? it’s the expectations . an expectation to always be happy . no bad days , no turning off the constant sunshine smile . even if his mind is a storm far greater than he can conquer . 

there’s nothing more freudian than blaming your short comings on your childhood . at least that’s what calvin will tell you anyways . but deep down , he knows it’s a mask . that his childhood fucked him up more than he has even begun to process . his therapist pries but he pays her no mind , wishing to be considered more of a strong silent type than one who speaks with loose lips . but his tendencies to make others happy lie within his greatest coping mechanism with is humor . one he developed during his childhood watching movies far too mature for his underdeveloped mind . robert dinero , al pacino , so many tough men who taught him how to be strong in the face of adversities . movie stars were his role models because dad was always too high to entertain the thought of his son , shooting up the day’s dose in front of him while the bills piled high on the kitchen table . calvin’s mother wondered if she’d ever see a day where the world wasn’t so bleak , where she could protect her son from the horrors of the world . but she couldn’t even protect him from the one inside her very home . not to mention it was hard to supervise when working more jobs than seemed possible . 

but calvin grew up with thick skin and a cut throat attitude . he slept soundly knowing that his mother loved him and one day his father would see him succeed and kick himself in the ass for mistreating him . but calvin’s brilliance was never a revenge thing . he owed it to himself to be good at something . that something just so happened to be theatre . it was clear to the teachers that had maxxie the class clown sitting in their back row that he liked to perform so his drama teacher came an pursued him . at first hesitant , he remembered some of the greats . al , robert , and suddenly he was in . though he insisted on not being musically inclined , calvin quickly blossomed in the musicals and found his voice through his high school’s productions . he was finally receiving the validation he was deprived of his entire childhood . standing ovations , applause , genuine eye contact that came with compliments , loving hugs . he couldn’t get enough . so it only made sense that he pursued musical theatre in college . 

college was when things took a turn for the worst . a slacker , calvin could no long get away with thing solely because his teachers liked him and enjoyed his performances . now everyone was just like him . a talented class clown who thrived on applause and validation from others . bad habits crept their way into his life at this time seeing as he was drinking and experimenting with drugs pretty heavily . what was a career for everyone else was quickly turning into a hobby for him as his poor coping mechanisms and social life hopped in the driver’s seat . this life in his life was all about self sabotage . missing classes to drink , going to acting workshops hungover , sleeping with friend’s girlfriends , doing things just because he could . it was mind blowing that he ever received a degree . but with college coming to an end , he addressed that his period of time with substance abuse were some of the worst years of his life and he wanted to tone back . focus on himself . but old habits die hard . 

calvin doesn’t really know how he ended up in the highlands . maybe it was his lack of drive or washed up attitude , but it hard to give his life any real thought from behind the line in the kitchen. all he knows is he needs to get the fuck out . 

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

wanted connection:

ride or die ( f ) : ever since i created calvin as a muse i’ve wanted to him to have a girl best friend who literally completes him. calls him out on his bullshit , tell him when he’s being a dick but also helps him navigate through his life and feelings . bonus points if they’re a polar opposite of him like super feminine .

ex ( m/f/nb ) : calvin is toxic af so i’m down for plotting whatever honestly i just want him to have an ex 

fwb ( m/f/nb ) : again , calvin is a bisexual and toxic whore so bring him all your muses to casually fuck 

roommate ( m/f/nb )

coworkers 

enemies ?? frenemies ?? frenemies with benefits ???

#highlandsintro #about #here's calvin :)

[what-the--curtains]

Braving the elements

Chapter 3 : Burn it Down

TW : violence, brief moment of sexual harassment

Notes: Eve is the readers alias but her real name is whatever yours is!

Monday, 11:35 PM, Your apartment

Roman had taken Calvin out for drinks at his club to reward him, and had left you at home alone in what you could only assume was some kind of power move. Thankfully, this would give you enough time to complete your 3 step plot for getting the hell out of here.

“Fuck this, fuck him” you mutter, as you finish packing up an assortment of your clothes and toiletries. Noting how it was kind of sad that your whole life could be packed up into two suitcases you pull on a pair of black leggings and an oversized black hoodie. Lugging your bags out the front door, you place them gently onto the freshly paved street. Hijacking the nearest car, you pop open the trunk and throw in the cases before shutting it. You walk back into the apartment you share with Roman and some of his other higher ups, stopping when you reach his home office. After knocking on the door and with no audible response you pick the lock and push open the door. You walk over to the filing cabinet where he keeps all the physical copies of worker contracts and open up the top shelf. After skimming through what must be at least 50 contracts all marked with an X (for mutant). Jesus, how many mutants does he employ and how come I’ve never seen any of them? You wonder.

“Bingo!” you exclaim upon seeing a file with your name. Grabbing it, along with a few others, and one of Romans access keys you turn to leave, but not before spotting the stolen bag of cash and the box from vault 176 lying on the floor. You pick up the bag and stuff the contracts inside before zipping it up and leaving the apartment for what you hoped was the last time. You toss the bag into the back seat, hot-wire the car and drive off to complete the second part of the plan. You pull the car over outside the main entrance of Roman Enterprises. Tucking your hair under a baseball cap and pulling your hood up you exit the vehicle. You figured that whatever you’d need to keep Roman off your ass for good was on his office computer, so here you were. On your way into the building you notice a canister of gasoline laying in the street. Deciding it may come in handy, you pick it up. You used Romans access key to get through the front door. You were aware that there would be three well trained, and extremely violent, men posted around the office. As you approach the elevator, you hear the raspy voice of one of the on duty guards

”Hey darling, you come for some after work fun just the two of us?” he asks while pressing his groin up against your rear. Rolling your eyes you lower your fist and punch him as hard as you can in the dick. He drops like a sack of potatoes, hands over his nuts, and as he looks up at you, you snap his neck. You get in the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. As you go up you pull your hood down and remove your hat shaking your hair loose. The doors open. You drop the gasoline next to the elevator and strut up to his main office.

“Hey boys,” you smile and wave, “good night?”

“What are you doing here Evie?” asks Ken

“Oh you know, Roman asked me to grab something for him” you say nonchalantly trying to slip past them, but before you can reach the handle someone grabs your wrist.

“We didn’t hear nothin’ about this.” retorts Craig whose hand was now latched onto your arm, you smile “Fine, why don’t we just call him and clear the air?” you take out your phone dial and hold it up to your ear. Craig’s phone rings and he lets go of you to answer it, but before he can you’ve thrown your phone at his face, cracking him right in the nose. Ken stands up, but you kick him in the groin Taking the gun out of Ken’s holster you shoot them both in the head.

“Thanks boys.” you say taking the key off Craig’s chain and unlocking the large wood doors leading to Romans office. Sitting down at his desk you use his card to log onto his computer, inserting a hard drive into the USB slot and downloading any files that you could. While it downloads you fetch the canister of gasoline from the elevator doors. The download was complete by the time you returned. You then transferred the info onto a microchip. Taking out a knife you cut a small slit in your arm and place it inside. Using some water from a nearby glass you heal your skin over the chip. Pouring a few cups of the gasoline out onto his computer you make your way to the door before pulling out your lighter and throwing a small fire ball towards the computer. You hear the explosion on your way down. Before reaching the ground floor you put your hair back under your baseball cap and pull up your hood. The bell dings and the doors open. You exit and walk to the boiler room where the gas tank is located. You throw the rest of the gasoline over it and walk to the entrance of the building. Flicking open your lighter you gather a few embers and blow them in the direction of the boiler room. You head out the same way you came in. As you open your car door you hear it, a huge explosion. You turn around just in time to see Roman Enterprises collapse in on itself. Smiling to yourself you start your engine, time for phase three you think as you drive off.

Tuesday, 1:30 AM, Avengers Tower

Nat walks into the main office where Tony, Steve and Wanda are sitting around a table mulling over paper documents looking for information about you. Steve’s head jolts up as Nat enters the room

“You got anything on her?” he asks

“Nothing in her files except one photo of her in a local penitentiary which was taken in June. Looks like whoever broke her out managed to get her entire record wiped.” Nat responds

“Hey guys, are you seeing this” Wanda points to the news.

The news anchor drones “ After what is currently believed to be a gas leak that caught fire, Roman Enterprise has seemingly collapsed in on itself. There were three men inside, but no bodies have been found yet.”

“ Why should we care about this Wanda?” Tony remarks.

“Because I think it has something to do with this,” she turns her laptop screen to the rest of the group “ one of the cameras picked it up at around 1:00 AM."

“Shit it’s her.” Steve says

“Guess we know who she’s working for, or was working for” Nat says.

“ Well, she just openly declared war on Roman which is incredibly stupid and dangerous, but why?” Tony ponders aloud

“Well she wasn’t known for making the most logical choices when we were at school” Wanda mutters.

“Hey guys,” Nat pipes up “we’ve got company!” She points to the screen monitoring the front door. A car had just pulled up and a figure had emerged. It opened the back door of the car and removed a large duffle bag. The figure walks up to the door, and drops the bag down before looking up.

“ Y/N? Shit what’s happened to her face?” Wanda asks.

“ Guess we know why she blew the building up.” Nat says “You know what. I think I like her!” The camera shows you hesitating to ring the bell, shaking your head and turning to leave before finally, turning back and ringing the bell.

“ Whatever she’s here for it’s not to harm us, she would have done it already.” Getting up Wanda takes the elevator to the ground floor. She opens the door to see her old friend bruised, bloodied, distressed and smelling of gasoline You hear the door open and look up to see Wanda standing in the door frame. You stick your arms up in the air “Don’t shoot! I come in peace.”

“I hope that’s fuel and not liquor I smell on you” Wanda jokes dryly. You laugh

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x oc #eventual fluff #eventual smut #eventual angst #bucky barns #slow burn #friends to lovers #avengers fanfiction #Spotify

[randomoranges]

Hold My Hand [Hold it Close]

mid-late november 2020

Étienne shivers, cold to the bone, as they cross the street. Edward’s promised him a hot drink out of this and it’s quite frankly the only thing keeping him going. There’s already a thick layer of snow on the ground that crunches under their boots and the grey skies do little to improve his mood or impede the chill from seeping through the multitude of layers he’s already wearing. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to come over, but he’s really wondering how he’s going to survive until his return.

 He burrows further into the wool scarf he’s wearing (Edward’s) and tries to wiggle his toes to keep them from freezing.

 The only reason he’s out and about with Edward is because his boyfriend had dragged him out of the house to run some errands and he’d honestly needed to get out before he went even more insane. The change of scenery from his Zoom hell is nice and the company is welcomed, but the weather is a killer.

 Luckily, their next stop is wherever place Edward wants to bring him to after having dragged him along for a myriad of different errands and Étienne doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this exhausted. They’re a few blocks away from the place when much to his surprise, he feels pressure on his hand.

 Étienne looks down to make sure he isn’t hallucinating and sure enough, he finds Edward’s gloved hand wrapped around his own. He tries not to trip over his own feet, but the fact remains that Edward has reached out for his hand, they’re out in public, and anyone could see them holding hands.

 “I thought you were allergic to this type of stuff,” He says instead. He means it more as a joke, a gentle jibe, but the words come out harsh and cold and bitter. There’s resentment there, he knows it and even though they’re past that – working towards their relationship, there are still wounds that haven’t properly scabbed over, even so many years later, even now that he has a better perspective and understanding over Edward’s reality.

 He remembers times before, when he’d tried to reach out for Edward’s hand and how his boyfriend had pulled his own hand away as though he’d been branded by the devil himself. The admonishment he’d gotten from Edward, about the wrong idea they’d be sending out and what people might think. Étienne even remembers Edward swatting his hand away, walking a little further ahead and how every time, Étienne’s heart had crashed and shattered, as if Edward was embarrassed to be seen with the likes of him. There were even those times before, when he’d really meant it as a friendly gesture, a casual arm draped across a friend’s shoulders and how Edward had stepped away, because people knew of Étienne and therefore, might make assumptions about him and Edward couldn’t have that – couldn’t be a degenerate like Étienne.

 Étienne had – understood. He got it, sure, Edward wasn’t out, he was afraid of what might happen and such. Edward wasn’t the first to be afraid and he unfortunately wouldn’t be the last, but as the years went on, Étienne had grown – irritated. Still, he tried to keep his own thoughts to himself, but he found it a bit hypocritical how Edward would tag along to clubs with him, would suck on other men’s dicks through glory holes, parks and the privacy of bedrooms, would do a myriad of different things with him and other men, but God forbid should he be seen standing a centimeter closer to Étienne in broad daylight where anyone else could see.

 He’d brought it up, a few times, especially in the last years before their break, when Étienne had been really considering their relationship, but every time, Edward kept mentioning that it wasn’t the same for him – that he didn’t have the luxury of being out and proud like Étienne was – that Étienne couldn’t understand and – Étienne wasn’t proud of what he’d said to his friend then, but he’d gone off the handle a few times, mostly because he wanted Edward to be able to be himself – to be able to hold hands with a man if he so desired – not to let fear guide him – to live his life.

 They’d left it at that, skirted around the issue and then carefully avoided it and Étienne kept his hands buried deep in his pockets and put away thoughts of linking his arm with Edward or lacing their fingers together. Anyways, he didn’t do relationships and Edward’s reactions were reminder enough as to why.

 The kicker had come afterwards, once he’d found out about the new nature of Edward’s relationship with Calvin, of all people. Something deep and ugly had festered inside of him, had whispered words that had enraged him and had made him want to squeeze the windpipes of Calvin’s throat with his bare hands.

 “See?” It whispered in his ear, “It’s not that he didn’t want to hold hands – it’s that he didn’t want to hold hands with you. He doesn’t like you. He never has. He’s ashamed of you – of being with you. You were only a convenience to him – until he found someone better. And look, he has now. He has Calvin now. Calvin who loves him. Calvin who lives close by. Calvin who’s been his best friend forever. Calvin’s good to him, not like you. Calvin is emotionally available for him, unlike you. Calvin is young and doesn’t have the emotional baggage you keep carrying around. He lives in the present – he thinks of the future. He’s not you. He’s better. Why would Edward ever want you? What could you possibly offer to Edward? You poor disillusioned fool – you mean nothing to him. You are nothing to him. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t care. No one does.”

 The sad thing was that for a good long while, he’d believed the voice and he’d let his anger and hurt grow and grow.

 He still gets the same feeling every now and again. It pokes its ugly head especially when he witnesses a tender moment between Edward and Calvin. It still does. Even now that he knows. Étienne thinks that, maybe, had it not been Calvin, it wouldn’t be so bad, but because it’s him – it – there’s still a sting, somehow, and the voice keeps telling him that he still isn’t good enough. That Edward had to go off and find someone better, someone who wasn’t damaged.

 There are days when it’s hard to believe otherwise. Not because of Edward, but because of his own broken mind and insecurities. There are those days when Étienne sees Edward around Calvin and wonders what it is he could possibly ever offer Edward. It comes back and tries to grab his attention, but Étienne does his very best to fight against it. He tells himself that the voice in his head is wrong – Edward loves him. He knows Edward loves him. He’s not a pity project Edward has taken on. Edward loves and cares about him as much as he does. In fact, every morning, Edward makes sure to hold him close, to rub his back and caress his face and remind him that he loves him.

 On most mornings, Étienne is able to return the words, even if they still take him by surprise, even if he still can’t believe that he gets to have this – that Edward actually loves him and every time, he’s rewarded with a smile. It’s worth it – just to see Edward smile and he vows, every morning, that he’ll do the best he can to make sure Edward smiles as often as possible.

 On the mornings when Étienne is unable to return the words – when they stumble around, crash and die at his lips, when the thoughts that keep him awake through most of the night get too loud, he instead grabs hold of Edward and hugs him desperately close, hoping Edward understands through his gestures as well. Luckily, Edward’s gotten a lot better at reading his body language and so he’s always quick to hug him back and hold on to him until he stops shaking.

 Therefore, he doesn’t mean to sound quite so critical when he comments on the fact that Edward has reached out, by his own accord and will, for his hand and he’s about to apologise for the tone, when Edward cuts him off with an answer of his own.

 “Times have changed and so have I, you know. They developed a cure for such things, finally, one that actually works.”

 Étienne needs to look at his boyfriend to read his mood and make sure Edward isn’t mad. There’s a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth and Étienne is relieved. At least, he hasn’t fucked this up. Not this time, anyways. His mood has done enough damage as of late.

 He supposes Edward is right; he has changed, actually and he needs to remember that. For as much as he has changed over the years, so has Edward. Edward has grown into his own, quite nicely, dare he say it, and at least he gets to enjoy the fruits of Edward’s labour nowadays.

 “Have they now?” He asks and plays along as they keep walking, hoping the easy conversation will quiet his racing mind – that Edward’s constant presence by his side will soothe the aches buried deep in his soul.

 “They have; it’s called not giving a shit. Works wonders.”

 Étienne manages a nod and half a smile and they keep walking. The pressure of Edward’s gloved fingers around his own mittened ones is grounding, if a little unnerving, but only because he still can’t quite grasp that he gets to have this – that Edward is willingly and by his own accord holding his hand out in public. That old ache in his heart starts to heal and maybe, just maybe, there’ll come a day when he’ll actually believe that all of this is truly real and not some clever ruse from a fever induced dream.

 “Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

 Étienne blinks and realises that he’s fallen extremely quiet and has gone off somewhere in his own headspace. He’s sweetheart now, along with a myriad of other pet names Edward drops as effortlessly as breathing. He treasures every utterance of them, catalogues, and files them away to play them back on loop when he falls asleep. He gets to be sweetheart and darling and dear and my love along with all the other nicknames and derivatives Edward has come up with his name over the years. There are some he prefers over others, but each one is special and treasured and his.

 He nods, before the worry he reads on Edward’s face grows any more. He doesn’t like it when Edward worries – doesn’t want to worry him and wishes his boyfriend could lead a worry free life.

 “Is this okay?” Edward asks him, as if he should even check in for something so wonderful as hand holding out in public and this time, when Étienne nods, there’s more energy to it and the hint of a real smile on his face. He squeezes Edward’s hand for good measure and Edward seems relieved, seemingly pleased with himself.

 “It’s always okay,” He adds, in case the message wasn’t clear enough and the smile that blooms on Edward’s face is worth it.

 “We’re almost there,” Edward tells him when they cross yet another street, “Also, for the record, it’s my treat.” He says it as though he knows better – as though Edward knows that Étienne will do his best to try and pay for him and Étienne lets out a soft chuckle.

 “Why, Edward Murphy, are you taking me out on a date? Buying me a hot drink and holding my hand? Am I reading these signals correctly?”

 He says it as a joke, in case he is reading too much into it, and for a moment, he fears he may have, especially when Edward misses a step and needs to play catch up. But then Edward blinks and laughs and gives his hand a squeeze that warms him to his very core.

 “For the record, I’ve taken you out on dates before, but yes, this part is a date. We can get a hot beverage and sit together, before they ban this as well.”

 It does something to his shrivelled heart to hear Edward say the words – aloud – in public – where anyone can hear them. He smiles, real and true, and for the last block of their walk, he links their arms together, huddles closer to Edward – to his boyfriend and starts to truly believe that he gets to have this.

 FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

[ratonnhhaketon]

See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 2)

Read on Ao3 | Previous | Next

Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, mentions of death (briefly) 

Chapter 2 - Three Of A Kind 

Blackwater was vastly different than any city Catherine had ever visited. It was dry, most of the streets were dirt, and it always smelled a little bit like horse shit. But, it was her new home and she learned to get used to it quickly

Her first mission upon arriving in the new city was to find temporary housing. Ultimately, she would like to find an apartment to solidify her new life, but for now she chose to rent a hotel room. After walking through the streets she found a hotel across the street from the saloon and decided to spend the night there. She booked a room for the next week and headed straight up.

The room was small but would satisfy her needs. It had a bed with nightstands on either side, a dresser, and a fireplace that seemed to have been snuffed out recently. She put her luggage down by the dresser and sat down on the bed. The mattress wasn’t the softest thing she’d ever slept on, but it would have to do.

Catherine rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. This was the first time she was truly able to think about the past few days, seeing as she was asleep for most of the train ride the previous night, and all of the emotions she refused to let surface finally broke through.

She cried, not caring how loud she was or who would hear her. Reid, her baby brother and the closest friend she ever had, was gone. He was gone and she didn’t even stay for the burial. On the one hand, she hated herself for not giving him the final goodbye he deserved, but she also knew that she would not have lasted being in Calvin’s presence one more time.

Calvin. That absolute bastard was the reason all of this had to happen. She was disgusted at not only the fact that he killed her brother and was planning to kill his own father, but the fact that he so perfectly hid that side of himself. Who knows how long he was sitting on the decision to take another person’s life?

Her thoughts then drifted to her parents. She felt guilty for not telling them anything that was going on. About Calvin mistreating her, the true reason behind her brother’s death, or even explaining why she needed to leave her old life behind. Catherine hoped, only for a moment, that they would track her down and write to them. But then she realized that if they found her, it was almost impossible for him not to  track her down as well. And she did not even want to think about what he would do to her for running from their marriage.

After calming herself down enough, Catherine wiped her eyes on her sleeves and stood up. She would not dwell on the past any longer. This was the start of her new life and she was going to begin it now.

She picked up her suitcase and put it on the bed, throwing the top open in the process. Inside were various dresses, chemises, boots, and jewelry. She shuffled some clothes around before finding the one pair of pants she owned: simple, black pants that she bought so she didn’t have to ride sidesaddle on her stallion back home. Seeing as she would need to buy a horse from the local stables to get around, she was very thankful that she remembered to grab the garment before leaving.

Catherine undid the buttons on her skirt and let it fall to the floor before wiggling into her pants. After fastening the button and making sure everything was smooth, she grabbed her pair of black riding boots and slipped them on as well.

Her first order of business was to head to the saloon and ask around for some work.

She made her way down to the street outside and crossed the road to her destination. It was just around noon so not too many people would be drinking just yet.

Catherine walked up to the bar and greeted the man behind the counter. He gave her a polite smile and greeting while drying shot glasses. “Do you happen to know where I could pick up some extra money? Like odd jobs and such?”

He placed the glass he was cleaning down on the counter. “The sheriff is always looking for help on bounty missions and if you’re skilled with a bow the butcher always appreciates a good deer or elk.”

Catherine tapped her fingers on the counter as she thought. Neither of those sounded particularly fun, but she would need a way to live if she was going to stay down here. She looked around the bar for a moment and spotted a poker table near the window. Perfect. She knew the ins and outs of the game like the back of her hand, learning early on in life how to play from her father. This was her ticket to success.

After ordering a whiskey and thanking the bartender for his help, she walked over to the men at the table and smiled. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Mind if I join?”

The men around the table gladly accepted and dealt her into the game as she sat down. Everyone introduced themselves as they placed their bets. She learned that the two men sitting on either sides of her were Thomas and Alvin, and the man across from her dealing was Jackson.

“So,” Thomas, the tall, buff man sitting to her right, spoke up. “What’s a pretty little woman like yourself doing out here all alone?” Catherine’s stomach turned at the term he used for her.

“Just trying to enjoy my afternoon and make some money in the process.” She picked up her cards and resisted the urge to smile. A pair of aces. This was gonna be easy.

The group played a few games, Catherine winning all but one of them, before the men were visibly disgruntled over not having won anything. Knowing that being $30 richer was a very good start, she decided it was time to leave. She bid the gentlemen goodnight before getting up and walking out of the tavern.

As she walked back to her hotel she felt someone following her. She ignored it at first, but when she noticed the sound of footsteps behind her she cautiously turned over her shoulder.

She saw Thomas about ten feet away and he did not look happy. She kept walking, faster this time, until he caught up to her and grabbed her arm. He yanked her arm back, causing her to spin around and almost fall into him. “GET OFF OF ME!” She yelled, hoping a lawman would be near to help her.

His grip became tighter as she struggled  in his grasp. “I don’t know what game you thought you was playing, but we don’t ’preciate cheatin’ in this town.” His voice was low in almost a growl, and his eyes were hidden from the shadow of his hat.

She winced at the pain in her wrist. “I-I can give you back your money! Just fucking let go of me!”

He released her and she fell backwards onto the stone sidewalk. “Keep the damn money. But if I see you playin’ my game again, it won’t end pretty.”

Catherine watched as he walked back off in the direction of the saloon. She sat on the ground for a minute, shaken up and trying to steady her breathing, before getting up and practically running back to the hotel.  ~~~~~

The next morning Catherine headed down to the tailor with one of the expensive dresses she had in her suitcase. The man working was ecstatic to see the garment, immediately knowing it was from a well-regarded dressmaker in Virginia, and offered her $150 for it. The actual garment was worth over $250, but she couldn’t complain.

She decided it would be a good idea to buy a horse and some weapons just to be safe. After the incident last night she knew she would need a way to defend herself.

The gunsmith recommended a simple pistol and hunting knife, as well as the appropriate belt and holsters. At first she was contemplating not buying ammunition for the gun, seeing as taking another person’s life was the last thing she wanted to do, but she decided it was a good decision to get at least one box.

Admittedly, she did feel safer knowing she had a way of self defense, especially after the man working showed her how to use it when she sheepishly admitted she had never owned one. But there was also a part of her that was terrified of the possibility of having to use it. She could never see herself as a killer, especially after knowing Calvin did it so casually and treated it almost as if he enjoyed it.

She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind as she walked into the general store in search of supplies for her horse. Her mind was still racing as she entered the shop, and she almost didn’t notice the man walking out and directly towards her.

She stopped when she was about a foot away from him, looking up to meet his blue shirt and black neckerchief. The man, standing about half a foot taller than her, looked down at her and smiled behind his worn leather hat. “S’cuse me, miss,” his gruff voice said as he moved past her and out the door.

Catherine stood in place for a moment, shocked by the man that just passed her. She hoped, just a little, that he would turn back around into the store so she could see him again. Continuing up to the counter, she pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on buying what she was here for.

~~~~~

After her shopping trip Catherine decided she needed to find another way to make money besides poker until the situation with Thomas calmed down a bit. She thought over her options and decided that bounties were off the table. The possibility of dying or having to kill another person definitely did not seem appealing, so she decided to try her hand at hunting.

Killing an animal was something people outside of cities did all the time to live, so how hard could it be?

It was much, much harder than she expected, both physically and emotionally. Seeing as she didn’t have a bow, she had to try to kill with her hunting knife. This meant small game was the only logical choice and their tiny bodies moved a lot faster than expected.

But she did happen to get lucky with two rabbits that she managed to catch off guard. After turning around a tree trunk as fast as possible, Catherine seized the small animal by the feet and held it to the ground. With a shaky hand she lined up the knife with the animal’s neck. Her head immediately turned to the side and her eyes clamped shut as the blade went straight through skin and muscle. A small, final squeak escaped the animal as it’s life was stripped from it in one swift motion.

Catherine lifted the blade out of the animal and opened her eyes, regret and sorrow bubbling up inside her as she looked at the tiny carcass beneath her hand.

“I.. am so sorry,” she said in a whisper. She knew that the kill was not in vain and that the butcher would use every part of its body, but it still felt wrong to take the life of another being, even if it was just a small animal.

After taking a second to breathe and collect herself, Catherine stood up and took the animal back to her horse. She secured it tightly to the side of the saddle and tried for another.

The next hour was slow and aggravating, but the second kill came easier. Granted, killing was still not something she wanted to do, but she was more okay with it.

Having secured the second rabbit and mounting her Tennessee Walker, Catherine rode back into town and straight to butcher. The $7 she got as payment was certainly not bad, but she wished she was able to go after bigger animals to get more money back.

Nightfall was starting to approach while she left her horse at the stables for the night. As she started heading back towards the hotel, she spotted a group of three men walking into the saloon. Normally she wouldn’t care about men going to get drunk, but the man she saw from the general store earlier that day was one of them.

Catherine waited until they entered the building to cross the street and follow them in. Upon entering, she made a beeline straight for the bar to order a drink. The bartender slid her a bottle of whiskey and she popped the cork before doing a scan over the crowd. The room was more packed than the previous night, but she found her target with ease.

The man in the blue shirt was sitting at the poker table with two other men, one of them looking dirty and greasy. The other, however, was a stark contrast. He looked groomed and held himself at a very high self esteem, no doubt the leader of their group. And those rings. Bright gold stood out on almost all of his fingers, shimmering in the dim light of the saloon. This had to be her big break. If she did it last night with a bunch of drunks, it couldn’t be too difficult to do it again.

She fixed her hair, running her hands through the auburn locks to get rid of any tangles, before sauntering over to the group. The three men were engaged in conversation, the ringleader letting out a hearty chuckle at something one of the others said. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said with a smile. “Can I interest all of you in a game?” She gestured down to the deck of cards sitting on the table.

The man in the blue shirt sat up and looked to the man sitting to his right. The dark-haired man shared a glance with him before turning back to Catherine. “Alright, why not?” He smiled and passed the deck to the man sitting on his right. “John, you deal first.”

She sat down in the chair between the man in the blue shirt and who she now knew as John and gathered her chips to buy-in.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” the man sitting across from her spoke up as he looked at his cards. He tried to hide a sly smirk as she looked at them, but Catherine was able to notice it.

“Cathrine Hays,” she said with a smile, throwing in a few chips for her bet.

“Well, Miss Hays, it is a pleasure.” He gestured to himself, “I’m Dutch van der Linde and this is Arthur and John.” The two men sitting to her sides nodded when their names were announced.

Despite going easy on them for a couple games, Arthur was the first to drop out. He decided he’d rather “sit back and watch” rather than play, so Dutch slid him some money to get the table a round of drinks. When he returned he handed Catherine another bottle of whiskey. Their hands brushed for just a moment as she accepted the beverage, her face immediately heating up at the contact.

As they played, Catherine played to her strong suits. She was able to go three games without losing, and John had finally swallowed his pride and given up. Dutch, however, was not giving up so easily. He was determined to win no matter what.

“Tell you what, Mr. Van der Linde,” Catherine smiled. “We play one more game. If you win, I’ll give you my silver pocket watch. If I win, I get one of those rings.”

She heard Arthur chuckle and John let out a low whistle beside her. Dutch’s eyes narrowed and he passed the deck to her. “That sounds like a deal.”

Before they even had time to place their first bets down, the door to the saloon swung open. Thomas, the man from the night before, stomped in and made a beeline to Catherine. She felt her heart speed up with every step he took towards her.

He stopped inches from her and pulled her up by the collar to his face. “What did I tell ya ‘bout playin’ MY GAME?!” His voice roared. He reeked of alcohol and sweat. Her hands immediately went to his wrist and tried to pry it off of her shirt.

The men sitting at the table instantly stood up to defend her. “Okay, sir, why don’tcha  jus’ put the lady down and we talk this over like civilized folk?” Arthur’s voice was calm as his hand slowly reached for his pistol.

Before Thomas had a chance to reply, Catherine swung her right hand as far back as possible and punched him straight in the throat. He immediately dropped her before stumbling back and struggling to breathe. She fell to the floor behind her and John bent down to help her back to her feet.

Before the assailant was able to regain his composure, Catherine grabbed his hand and bent the wrist backwards as far back as it would go without breaking. “Don’t you EVER think about laying another finger on me,” she said through gritted teeth. “If I ever see you anywhere near this establishment, I will not hesitate to break every bone in your body. Got it?”

He nodded rapidly and gripped the hand she had pinned until she let go. Without missing a beat, he immediately ran out the door and down the street, vanishing into the night.

At this point everyone in the saloon was watching, some backing away from Catherine in fear. She turned back to the poker table, seeing Dutch, Arthur and John visibly shocked and impressed at her display. After looking between the men for a split second, she dug around in her pocket before slamming a dollar on the table. “Here, for the drinks,” she said quickly and walked out the door.

The group of men looked at each other for a few seconds before Dutch headed out of the building, the two others following closely behind. They found Catherine a few buildings down the street leaning against the wall with her head in her hands.

“Miss Hays,” a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her head shot up, breaths coming in and out quickly and her eyes wide with fear. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. And what was all that about?” Dutch’s voice was soft and calming.

She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking up. “I-I’m fine. That.. His name is Thomas and he’s a bastard. I joined him and his friends last night for a game because I needed the money and he wasn’t all that happy that I was winning. He followed me back to the hotel I’ve been staying at and threatened me.” She felt her eyes glaze over as she remembered the previous night.

“Did he hurt you?” Arthur spoke up with a sympathetic tone.

She shook her head. “No.. no, not any worse than he did just now.”

Dutch spoke up again. “You said you’re stayin’ in a hotel, can I ask why?”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I had to leave my previous home. It's not safe for me to stay there, so I went as far south as I could and it led me here.”

He put a soft hand on her shoulder and she met his gaze. “If you’re in need of a home, we can help you. We’ve got our own family of people that need help and protection.” He could sense hesitation without her even speaking up. “We’ll keep you safe. Nothing bad will happen to you again.”

Catherine looked into his eyes and saw nothing but genuine kindness, something she hadn’t seen a lot of since leaving home. She smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mr. Van der Linde.”

“Call me Dutch.”

#myworks #my posts #text #writing #red dead redemption #red dead #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x original character #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan imagine #red dead imagine #red dead redemption imagine #red dead fanfiction #red dead redemption fan fiction #catherine hays #stfiye #rdr imagine #rdrworks #fanfiction #fan fiction

[silenceandpatiencepining]

Rambling—there’s a lot on my mind today

For a while there were a couple songs on Rep that I thought were not about love at all, and were instead about Taylor’s management team—mainly I Did Something Bad and Look What You Made Me Do. Initially I wondered if Taylor was at all resentful over her PR and how it’s forced her to hide a lot of significant aspects of her life, and especially relationships (particularly with Karlie). Even though I thought it was plausible that Taylor would write about Tree/her PR team, I’m think it’s more likely that she wrote these about being bullied by her record label, how it made her feel, and how she’s been trying to break out of it.

Taylor signed with BMR when she was still a young country artist with a strong conservative fan base. Efforts to craft her public persona focused a lot on her youth and innocence. And while this really suits her first two even three albums, as Taylor started getting older, I think the scope of what she was “allowed” to say and share in her lyrics became more restricted. Any lyrics about potential relationships with other women, or songs with female love interests were edited to be gender neutral, we see the beginning of bearding, planted PR stunts/details to make the public associate already written lyrics with men Taylor was spotted with. All the shaming and overreaction about Taylor dating really picks up and there’s scandal over Taylor doing things that are incredibly normal for a girl her age to be doing. A beautiful, talented 20-something year old woman casually dates a few people and maybe has physical/sexual experiences all turns into Taylor being slut-shamed. The wholesome image of the small town girl who grew up on a Christmas tree farm and moved to Tennessee to pursue her country music dreams no longer fits the reality of a young adult exploring her art and her sexuality and expression. She’s starting to widen her genre pool. Her fan base is expanding. She’s grown. The one size fits all innocent curly blonde country sweetheart image gets tossed out entirely and now we see the beginning of Taylor’s fashion era’s—the annual style switch up that’s since given us bold red lips, vintage dresses, a bob haircut, bleached beach waves, leather and snakes, black motifs, and now pastel rainbows galore. Taylor embraced them all and always looked amazing but they were carefully crafted veneers that just went over the top of the true cat-loving, peace sign throwing Taylor we know and love.

Anyway all of this to say, Taylor has spent the majority of her career being told who to be and even though she’s truly taken on so many styles as her own, she’s been forced to or maybe just chose to communicate and express her truth to dedicated fans through the tiny little messages and Easter eggs she leaves behind. Subtle enough for the general public to glaze over, but super fucking loud for those who are willing to look closely. Quiet because anytime she talks, people are so quick to criticize without even listening.

It’s widely believed that LWYMMD was about public feuds Taylor has been involved in with other celebs and the criticism she faced for “playing the victim” but let’s consider for a moment that the PR strategy in place for Taylor to beard [with Calvin and Tom and Joe and all the others before] came initially NOT from Taylor or Tree, but instead from Big Machine Records and that these experiences helped drive the direction of the Rep album and Taylor’s behavior/Easter eggs. She really called them the fuck out while she rode out the rest of her contract and hoped to negotiate something better for her future.

I don't like your little games

Don't like your tilted stage

The role you made me play

Of the fool, no, I don't like you

I don't like your perfect crime

How you laugh when you lie

You said the gun was mine

Isn't cool, no, I don't like you

Ever since Taylor has been under BMR they’ve basically played her and exploited her for their benefit and for profit. They crafted and controlled her image, forced her to be and act like someone she isn’t, all while making a fortune. They probably tried to make her feel like she got to have a say in things but she really wasn’t given much control over herself.

I don't like your kingdom keys

They once belonged to me

You asked me for a place to sleep

Locked me out and threw a feast (What?)

The world moves on, another day, another drama, drama

But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma

And then the world moves on, but one thing's for sure

Maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours

Here I think Taylor is saying that yeah, at one point in time she did have some control, the power was in her hands, but once her fame and notoriety was amassing, they (BMR and management) took it from her and then went on profiting from her hard work while she continued to be used. They use her, control her public reactions, and get her involved in these feuds to stir publicity but she’s been sitting back silently taking it and plotting her rise. They’re all removed from these stunts. She’s the one that had to live with it. But she’s biding her time. She’s plotting her next move. Her hints have been getting more obvious. She’s getting more bold and more public, which is showcased particularly well by her political activism and Lover era imagery.

I feel like the Reputation era in general was Taylor saying that she’s done putting up with the bullshit. She’s tired of men with power they don’t deserve constantly calling the shots and making plays at her when they only see her as dollars they can use. She’s tired of not being able to show who she loves and how she really is. She’s ready to be happy. She’s ready to put this behind her.

I think that’s what makes me feel so sick about the news of the BMR sell to fucking Scooter Braun—after all of the shit Taylor has had to deal with, after giving her all to a management team that she trusted but that used her, she entrusted her life’s work to Scott and moved on to a new label that actually gave her ownership and empowerment and actually valued her craft...and Scott sold out to the shady powers at be who are financed by people that only want to hurt, punish, or profit off of Taylor. Fucking Josh Kushner, his criminal family, and the Carlyle Group really went out there to financially back Scooter just so they could aid in his takeover of Taylor’s historical catalogue. It’s sick.

My heart really goes out to Taylor. She’s fought so fucking hard to create the incredible work she has, all while trying to make things better for other artists who don’t have the same negotiating power, and people still have the nerve to say that she’s being dramatic because she didn’t get notified of the sale sooner—this is so much bigger than that.

I know swifties are doing what they can to show their support, so I know I’m not alone in saying that I wish I could give Taylor a hug in the wake of the news breaking and the back and forth he said she said of the guilty parties desperately trying to save face through their lie-laced rebuttals to her blog.

Taylor—We stand with you. We see you. We believe you. And we’re ready to support the hell out of Lover.

#i stand with taylor #we stand with Taylor #taylor swift #lover era #big machine records #taylor swift masters #kaylor #lover album #taylor nation

[fair-dinkum-mechanic]

listen. listen. Are you sick of me moaning about this? Wonderful! Because here I go again. 

 Body image. Is. A. Huge. Problem. In. The. Gay. Community. 

Now, I can only speak from the place of a white homosexual man who has never been “overweight” or seen as having “the wrong body type” and still (STILL!!) I have gone days without eating. I have purposefully pushed myself past my limits. I’ve opened my camera to take nudes of myself only to shut it, lose my boner, and wallow in self pity because my stomach stuck out too much and my chest didn’t. 

Here’s the rundown of how my brain works EVERY day. EVERY time I look in the mirror. EVERY time I so much as even SEE another man. 

I’m not tanned enough. I’m not tall enough. My jawline isn’t square enough. My bear isn’t trimmed and maintained. My skin is covered in acne and not smooth. Damn, I can’t wear that tank top because my shoulders aren’t muscular. My back isn’t muscly. My HANDS are too long and lanky. My haircut isn’t sexy enough. 

I can only imagine what large, trans, and/or gay men of other backgrounds feel. Fuck I don’t feel attractive enough because I’m not blonde or brown haired with blue eyes, I’m Italian and STILL I feel like that’s somehow ugly. 

It honestly makes my heart hurt so much to see so many men like me celebrating their own sexuality while actively contributing to the alienation of others just because it makes their dick hard. And let me tell you, just because you reblog or like the odd picture of an Asian man or a black man (muscular, mid 20′s, photoshopped to hell, in calvins) it does NOT make it any better and you’re actually contributing to the problem a whole lot more. I’m not gonna speak any more on the race aspect because like I said I’m a 25 year old white boy and I really don’t have the knowledge or right to speak on it, but I can say it doesn’t sit right with me and gets me quite miffed, ESPECIALLY seeing the gross fetishy accounts on twitter and here and seeing people in my life following them and quietly filling their likes with those images. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with men who work out, who model, who put effort into their appearence OR finding them attractive (look, I’ll be the first here to say if I see a man with chunky arms and some Big Nice Titties that’s amore) but when our entire community feels the need to look ONE particular way, I feel like perhaps, just perhaps, there’s an issue. 

You CANNOT support just one part of the community. Accepting feminity, body types, lifestyles, expression, our achievements, EVERYTHING, must MUST be accompanied by the acknowledgement that your behaviour contributes to the mindsets of others. Sex has been used against our community for decades to paint us a sinful, dirty, ingrates without any sort of morals. It was taboo to speak about and we were absolutely made to feel ashamed. 

Basically tl;dr: Instagram culture is trash and we need to try harder to be better and kinder to each other because I’m fucking sick of seeing my friends who I love hating themselves and their bodies because they’re not some tight bodied model on instagram or twitter that all their online gay friends chuck a like to every time they post a photo of themselves in white briefs with some indoor succulent in front of their cock’n’balls. 

To reiterate, though: If you are one of these people who posts these pictures, fine! Good on you! You’re sexy! But you’re not the Only Sexy, I’m just asking us as a whole to spread our love around a bit and stop being so ruthless. Also if you do have a huge following it’d be great to spread that awareness because unfortunately it’s so bad that nobody wants to listen to the average looking men around us bc they just punch back with “mad that you got ignored on grinder?? :(((((((((((( lmfao.” 

#long post #i posted this originally saying body imagine #imagine how is touch the body

[theoddcatlady]

I Lived in the Haven Commune, Part Seven FINALE

Part Six

I wish I could say the story went on. That I found the answers I wanted, that I can share more with you all about the Wild’s God. About the Unknown Creatures Shellow, Beleven, and the many more I knew were out there. It feels like I was only looking through a hole in a wood fence and I’m sure that the people reading this share my same wonder.

But that’s not how real life works. Real life works with people rather than being curious and awestruck of the unknown, being afraid of it… and wanting to snuff it out.

I had a feeling something wasn’t quite right a few days up to the raid. My father had become one of the trusted members of Haven and had joined the unofficial council that included Father Holmes, Dr. Gardner, Frank, and a few others. Lately they’d been talking late into the night, I’d ask my dad what was wrong but he wouldn’t tell me anything.  

It was cold. So cold, that early morning when our cabin door was suddenly bashed in and men in full black uniforms announced that they were the police and that we needed to come out right now. I nearly fell out of bed as I screamed. My dad got up and held up his hands, asking them what was going on and what were they doing.

I only had time to grab my coat and put on my slippers before we were all led out to the main building. People in full SWAT gear were going from cabin to cabin, waking up the inhabitants and forcing them to walk in the snow. Frank had been handcuffed, probably because his first reaction was to lash out physically. I guess I could say he was lucky he wasn’t shot.

The children were separated from their parents, I could hear Tara wailing for her mommy. I picked her up and quietly soothed her, patting her back and locating Scotty. I walked up to him and asked, “What the hell is going on?” I knew I shouldn’t swear around Tara as she repeated everything, but there’s a time and a place for swearing and this was one of those times and places.

Scotty shrugged. “I don’t know, they just marched in and told us to come in here,” He said.

“Where’s Abigail?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. Did you see her outside?”

I shook my head. “No… do you think they hurt her?”

“They’re the cops. This has to be a misunderstanding, right?”  

I nodded before my shoulder was tapped. I turned to see a man with glasses and a button up shirt. “Hey, I’m Dr. March. Is that your baby?” He asked, pointing to Tara.

I burst out laughing before I realized he wasn’t joking. “No! I’m thirteen!” I said.

Dr. March nodded, but I knew he didn’t believe me. “Would you be more comfortable being interviewed in another room, away from your friend?” He asked.

I scowled and handed Tara to Scotty. “Get the hell away from me, or I’m going to scream as loud as I can. When I start screaming, I promise you, everyone under the age of three will start screaming too. I’m their babysitter. I’m not anyone’s mom. Go bother someone else,” I turned my back on him and started playing with Tara, promptly ignoring all his other questions.  

I put the pieces together a few years later that he wanted me to say I was molested. I’m not sure if he cared if that was true or not, but at the time he was seriously pissing me off, so I didn’t even bother giving him the time of day. Any of the other teenage girls followed suit, they didn’t respond to any interview attempts and even trying to get one of them into another room ended up with joint screaming. Our version of a ‘peaceful’ protest.  

A burly fellow walked over after the latest screaming fit. “March, what the actual fuck?” He asked, crossing his arms.

Dr. March sputtered hopelessly. “I tried to ask Sara to have an interview with me, and then they all just… I’m losing my mind here, Dorse,” He said.

I smirked and turned to the others, counting down from three with my fingers. Once the last finger went down, we all screamed again. Dorse slammed his hands over his ears before he shouted, “Quiet! All of you!”  

This only made Tara and another baby start crying. I didn’t bother to hide my grin. “Sorry, sir, we just want you to know that we don’t need to be interviewed,” I said.

Dorse frowned. “All right, let’s just get this over with the easy way. Is anyone here under the age of eighteen and married to the man you call Father Holmes?” He asked.

All of us balked at the idea. “No! He’s not married to anyone! Ask Dr. Gardner, she castrated him herself before I even got here!” I said.

Dorse was downright floored at my bluntness. “Do you even know what that means?” He asked.

“I’m thirteen. Not five.” I crossed my arms. “Can you please just tell us what’s going on? We want to know where our parents are and if they’re okay, and if my friend Abigail is with them.”

“Abigail?” Dorse glared at Dr. March, who just shrunk. “Did you even think of asking the kids if we gathered all of them?!” He scoffed and didn’t even bother to listen to Dr. March. “All right, squirt, how old is Abigail?”

I glanced at Scotty, who mouthed ‘just tell him’ at me. “… She’s my age. She’s not here, and I’m worried.”

“Could she have run into the forest? We have men combing it already, if she’s there, we’ll find her.”

I felt my heart sink to my stomach. Scotty went white and said, “You… you’re in the forest?”  

Dorse nodded. “Searching for the weapons,” He said.

“You need to get them out of there,” I blurted out.  

“Why’s that?”

I gulped. “The… The Wild’s God. He won’t like it,” I said.

Dorse looked puzzled. “Come take a walk with me, kid. What’s your name?” He asked.

“Jane. Jane Delaney.”

We ended up in the clinic, which was the only unoccupied space of the main building. I sat with Dorse on one of the cots, where he offered me a juice box. “You know, I have a daughter, about your age. Her name’s Andrea,” He said. “I know you’re a bit old for these, but I still catch her snitching one from her little brother’s lunches.”

I took the juice box and quietly thanked him. I took a few sips before I asked a question of my own. “Why are you looking for weapons? Haven doesn’t have any of those in the woods,” I said.

Dorse sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. “Kid, I’ll be straight with you. We have reason to believe that Haven is stockpiling weapons and there’s been… rumors about Father Holmes. Do you know that’s not his real name?”  

I shook my head.

“His real name is Calvin Bram. Twenty six years ago, he changed his name to Calvin Holmes and started up Haven with money he borrowed from his uncle. We’ve had suspicions about him for a long time.”

I shook my head. “Rumors, you mean that he’s a pedophile? Sir, I told you, he’s castrated. I’ve seen him take his pills.” I’d caught him once after a night meeting and asked him what he was taking, he explained that he’d needed hormones because of the surgery he’d had a few years prior. “I’ve been alone with him a few times. He’s never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable or touched me.”

“We received tips from a few former members that that wasn’t the case.” Dorse handed me a pack of gummies, I knew by then it was bribery but I was hungry and didn’t care. “Are you one hundred percent sure he’s never treated anyone a little more special? Given them gifts, paid them more attention?”

Again I shook my head. “He almost goes out of his way to make sure that no one gets the wrong impression. Listen, you really shouldn’t be in the forest without Sweetheart. She knows when an Unknown Creature is getting close.”

“All right, what is an Unknown Creature, kiddo? Because I’m lost there.”

I shrugged. “They’re called Unknown, sir. We just know they’re around where the Wild’s God is,” I said.

“Have you ever… seen an Unknown Creature?”

I nodded and finished off the package of gummies. “I got my blood sucked out by one, see?” I popped up my knee and showed him the scar on the back of my knee. “They can be teenee or enormous. The one that attached itself to me was called a Beleven leech.”

“I… see.” I got another package of gummies, this one I held onto. “What is the Wild’s God? Have you seen him?”

I chewed my bottom lip. “You think I’m making all of this up, don’t you?” I asked suspiciously.  

“Well, you seem to believe it’s true.” He leaned forward. “What is the Wild’s God?”

I stared at the floor. “He’s… he is real. I’ve seen him twice. He… he’s… I don’t know, really. He looks like a tree, but he’s not. He’s alive, and he’s old. Wherever he goes, the Unknown Creatures follow. Father Holmes believes that the Wild’s God deserves our worship, as he’s beyond our understanding as humans,” I said.

Dorse was quiet for a few moments before he gave me another package of gummies. “Share with your friend, all right? You can go back to your friends now,” He said.

As I left, I heard Dorse on the radio telling his men to look out for a tree, that’s where we worship.

I knew he didn’t believe me at all but I can’t say I didn’t try.

Around noon is when people stopped checking in.  

I could hear Dorse on the radio, checking with teams two and three. He’d made sure we all had snacks this morning, but I could see sweat beading down his forehead as he tried calling them again. I left the group and walked over to him. “Sir, you need to call the others back,” I said.

“Kid, I’m a little busy,” He waved me off. “Team Six? Where the hell are teams two and three? Have you found anything the woods yet?”  

I scowled and tapped his arm. “Sir, I’m serious! They could’ve ran into some real trouble and you need to tell them to get out!” I said.

Dorse’s radio crackled on in response. “No response from Teams Two and Three. I think we’re at the tree you brought up, it’s covered in ivy… wait… is it moving?” The man on the other side of the radio went quiet for a few seconds before screaming. “Shit! Fuck! It’s moving! What… what the fuck!?” I heard gunfire and I gasped. Were they actually trying to shoot the Wild’s God?

I heard screaming and a disturbing crack before the radio went dead. Dorse went pale and the radio slipped from his grip, it nearly hit the floor but I managed to catch it. I pressed it back into his hand, ignoring how my hands were shaking. “Call. Them. Back,” I said.

Dorse swallowed before he clicked on the radio. “… Everyone, return to base camp immediately,” He said quietly before walking away.

I don’t know how many men made it back, but I can tell you that the ones that did looked like they’d looked into the face of god himself. And maybe some of them did.  

I heard Dorse shouting from one of the rooms where the adults were being kept, I couldn’t hear what he was saying but I imagine he was raging about the men that may be dead out in the forest. I just stared at the door to the outside as it cracked open.

There was Abigail, still in her pajamas and bare feet. She gestured to me to follow her. I looked around and casually got up. Dr. March looked up from his note taking. “Where are you going?” He asked suspiciously.

“Bathroom. I’m on my period and have to change my pad,” I lied, watching how Dr. March went pale. I grinned as I made my way to the door. He didn’t realize I wasn’t heading towards the bathroom until it was too late. I slipped out as he shouted after me to get back here.

The snow was starting to come down heavily, but Abigail was still warm. She wrapped me in a tight hug and sniffled.

“It’s the end of Haven,” She said in a broken voice.

My heart dropped and I pulled away. “What do you mean, the end?” I asked.

Abigail stared at the forest. It was growing dark but I could see silhouettes, figures of inhuman beings. I couldn’t tell how many there were. There could have been over a thousand.

And there was a tree that was taller than the rest right at the forest’s edge.

Abigail pulled me back into a hug, I could feel her tears land on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. The Wild’s God… we endangered him. He’s hurt and upset, and it’s all our fault,” She whispered.

I hugged her back. “What can we do? We have to make it better,” I said.

“There is nothing we can do, except stay close to each other. I always knew you were my best friend, Jane. I love you. And if I can save one person’s life… I’m choosing you.”

Abigail pulled back enough for me to see the truth. You see, I never realized what Abigail meant by saying her mother was married to Shellow.  

Abigail face was now covered in black eyes, each blinking at its own pace. Sharp mandibles protruded from her mouth, and I could see even more eyes on her neck. Two pairs of many jointed arms ending in a sharp fingers remained tightly around me. Trapping me. Protecting me.

They flooded out of the forest after that. All sorts of Unknown Creatures, from the very smallest to the gargantuan, to the ones that lurked close to Haven to the ones that hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years.

They passed me and Abigail, not even paying the slightest attention to us as they began to tear into the building. The frog like creature I’d seen years before ripped the door off its hinges and crowed, its beak clacking together to call forward its brethren. Several of the ones that could fly began to tear off the roof.

“Wait! What about Scotty!? What about my dad!?” I tried to scramble free but Abigail’s grip only grew stronger. I was trapped.

“The God of the Old Testament envies the vengeance of the Wild’s God.”

I froze.  

No. I could hear the panic of the people trapped inside, the horrifying sounds of slaughter as the Unknown Creatures flooded into the building.  

No.  

“But… Father Holmes is loyal to the Wild’s God! We worship him!” I said, craning my neck to get a better look.  

Abigail sighed. “The truly depressing part of that is you still all believe he wants that worship,” She said.  

I swore I heard my dad’s scream cut off sharply, like it’d been choked out of him.  

“… Can you take me out of here?” My voice shook.  

Abigail nodded. I heard the back of her shirt tear and turned forward to see her wings- beautiful and emerald green, shaped like a dragonfly’s. I heard a soft buzz as we took off into the sky. Away from the building. Away from Haven. Away from my home.

I woke up in a hospital bed. I’m not sure when I passed out, whether Abigail did something or maybe the shock got to me I can’t say for sure. I saw my mother sitting by the bed, she’d lost weight since I’d seen her last and cut her hair, but I recognized her.

“Jane!” She hurried to my side and took my hand. “I heard about Haven, I thought you were dead but they found you outside the hospital… how did you get here?”

I stared at my mother, my eyes filling with tears.

“… Mom, did you tell the police that Father Holmes was touching me?”  

She didn’t need to respond. Her eyes dropped, her face filled with guilt. I yanked my hand away and turned my body away. “Get the fuck away from me. You’re a murderer,” I growled, feeling an ache fill my chest.

My mom tried to talk to me, but I gave her the silent treatment. I never hated someone more since then.  

I wasn’t the only survivor, but there weren’t many of those. My dad was dead. Father Holmes was dead. Frank, Abigail’s ‘father’, was dead. But Dr. Gardner was alive, covered with horrid burns on her hands and face but she was alive.  

I went to go see her the moment she could take guests.

She’d lost her beautiful braided hair. She turned to look at me and although she couldn’t smile widely, I saw the sides of her eyes crinkle. “… Jane. You got out,” She rasped, reached a bandaged hand for me.

I gently took it. “I’m okay. Abigail saved me,” I said.

“So… all of their children did survive.” Dr. Gardner scoffed. “The ones who got hurt the least… were the children.”

“So you knew about Abigail?” I asked.

Dr. Gardner nodded. “I delivered her myself. She was the first Creature I helped a woman birth. I nearly dropped her because I didn’t know what to do with all the limbs,” She sighed. “They certainly pick favorites.”

“What’s going to happen?” I asked.

“… We move on. Haven is the past, it’s all in ruin. Burnt to the ground.” I saw a tear well up in Dr. Gardner’s eye and I helped wipe it away. She turned to me and clasped my hand as tightly as her injured hands could. “For your own good, Jane… forget about Haven.”

I haven’t though. I never could forget.

I moved in with my mom and her new boyfriend, but I never spoke more than a few words to them. I was more like a roommate than a daughter and I was all right with that. I became incredibly self reliant quickly, I learned to cook for myself, cleaned my portions of the house, bought my own clothes and things with money I earned with chores and part time jobs.  

Nutmeg and some of my other belongings turned up in my new bedroom about a week after I moved in with my mother. The ribbon around Nutmeg’s neck was gone, but I knew who’d brought it to me.  

At school, I was a social outcast. Rumors were whispered about the girl who lived in a cult, the girl who was smart but believed in something called The Wild God and had sacrificed her own babies in his name. Yeah, kids are dicks. I don’t know where they got half that shit. But it was fine. I didn’t need friends.

I had memories. I had the Wild’s God. I have not made the mistake of worshiping him again. Whatever he is, he’s not something who needs worship.  

I’m now twenty-three. It’s been ten years since Haven burnt to the ground. And after all this time, I found Scotty.

I didn’t recognize him when he first walked into my college class. His hair had been dyed blacked, he wore eyeliner and had piercings. He looked like someone I didn’t want to run into in a dark alley, not like the boy I played with as a child.

Then he looked at me and his eyes widened. He loudly dropped his book on his desk.  

“J… Jane?”  

I burst into tears and hugged him so tightly I probably nearly fractured a rib. “Scotty?” I said, wondering if this was all a dream.

“It’s… it’s Scott now,” He laughed quietly, “You’re okay… you’re… you’re alive.”

Scott’s outer shell only hides how soft his heart still is. We’ve spent days catching up, how he was adopted by this sweet couple in another state, how he still draws the Unknown Creatures he remembers, makes notes so the details cannot escape. I shared my own journals, my own pictures. His are so much better but he’s still a bit shy about it.

We’re planning a road trip in a few months. Pooling our cash, his car’s in better shape so we’ll drive together.

We’re going back to Haven. I refuse to believe it’s entirely gone. I’m going to find the Wild’s God. I’m going to find the Unknown Creatures.

And hopefully… I’ll find Abigail.  

#horror stories #scary stories #nosleep #creepypasta #creative writing #my stories

[yespoetry]

Caitlin Scarano: There Is No Ending

I know we’re all sick of poems with deer but let me explain

 Last night: a forest of hospital beds

 I want to ask all these strangers: do you ever think every day you’re getting closer to your death or do you wake in the morning with hope crusted in the corner of your eyes, your teeth already grinning at the air?

 Grief is a very complex machine, it told me so itself, a matrix

that takes years

A.     to navigate

B.      from you like teeth

 Dear J, I have a few acres all to myself now, you should see them

 I’m sorry you had to turn so many stones

while I looked on at a careful distance

 The male human heart at age 36

Who knew, I guess

 It’s true that I didn’t mind the horses starving outside my window, as long as they

            came when called, as long as they were gentle with their teeth

            I mean, I had many apples going to rot, what else could I have done

 I read about how the water in Lake Superior is replaced every 191 years

 Remember the spot where I dove under and was rolled by a wave and for a moment I did not know what was up or down, what was past or present, you or⁠—

 That winter, the lake froze, trace lines of cracks in the ice colliding, the fractures in my body all met

 In another dream, you’re in front of me⁠—solid, tangible, with a dark beard and corduroy pants

I ask you about dying and he you say, Let’s go to this city I know

Then you disappear into a tangled forest and I follow, stumbling, ripped by thorns

 You’re always just out of reach, always just turning the next corner

 Remember those children we watched while we ate ice cream on that green bench in Sault Saint Marie? Silly

            that isn’t my favorite memory of you, not by far but it’s the one I keep

coming back to

 I took it so I should have wanted it

But the sugar made my teeth ache

 Every memory is two-sided, like that day we lay in the grass watching ships pass through the lochs

Distance is deceptive

It was sunny, the photos you took prove it

            But the wind⁠—

 Or the wind and the rain that day we met at the lighthouse, you wore a black sweater, I hadn’t seen you

            in years, you looked younger, time doing its mirror trick

 The scene draws us

We weren’t ghosts but we were

both adrift, though only one of us knew it

 When I reach the city you spoke of, it’s been abandoned for decades

 Every memory is two-sided, like the time you were driving and the Jeep hit

black ice and spun out

Like the time I was driving and my car died as we coasted down hill

 In a human dream, electric blue hydrozoan creatures blossom in the Superior’s deepest water

 Every memory is two-sided, and nothing is mine to claim

 I run these dirt trails near my house, I think of you, I touch my chest, count my breaths

One day I came upon this mother dear and two fawns, they were tiny, spotted, legs so ready to give out but they did not give out

 J, you should have seen them

  Generational, Domestic

 I drink from the cup that made me

before blood congeals across the top.

 Touch the muscles of your back

while you sleep. What does cruelty express?

 A fear so deep it creates its own

gravity, the world pours in around

 the rim. Despite how light clawed, it could not

get out⁠—not after, not from within. I live by a river

 and dream of living by another river. Throw my baby

teeth into it like coins in a well. Wish and watch

 water pass, think of how it bows and braids,

think of the circulatory system, nervous

 birds on loop. My niece appears in a dirt-stained

dress holding yellow zinnias as they blossom

 and rot, blossom and⁠—Does movement remind you

of death or escape? When you bite the inside

 of my thigh, what memory of violence 

unfurls like a seed? Generational, domestic. Your mother

 tells you she prays for us and I swallow

it whole like a duck egg. A blue mud wasp

 taps against my window, where its always

been. While we sleep, bindweed inches up

 the walls and ceiling. Coils around the lamps.

Tomorrow, we’ll eat the heads of morning.

 A Litany of Dreams You May Borrow

 The one where I pick sunlight off my skin like scales or sequins

 Or I have a boy’s torso and a jaw

that doesn’t lock when I start to laugh

 Any of the dreams with snakes or my mother trapped in a radiator vent

            because they spring from the same well

 My little sister and I are teenagers again, still speaking to each other, and she climbs a sugar maple and never comes back

 The ones where rain comes through the roof but not the ones where it is snowing in my room

 S. and I still live together but a gray horse circles the house, starving

No one names it

 My father is in a hospice bed, holding up his rot-dappled organs one by one

as offerings to me

 The cow pasture

where I’m in a wedding dress carrying a pitcher of his blood

 B. and I are back on the beach at night and she kisses me except this time ocean is made of milk and sweet

 No one invents sin so we sun ourselves on the rooftop

 Any dream of my grandfather⁠—that skull for a face, the parrot watching on, the white sheet and long fingernails

            In fact, you may keep them, convince yourself there is a lesson

 The dream where the brakes gave out

The dream where the brakes gave out

 His head is in my lap and the window is open even though it is January outside

 A war between nations of men takes place in my mother’s dining room

            My sisters and I watch from beneath a table

 Those you can leave: any dream where he says my name

aloud or his mouth is against my hair, any dream

where the dead forgive

 The first girl I loved asking Are you sure you don’t know me? until she disappears

 The whole room slants and I fall from the bed to the wall as if the house is trying to shake me from itself like a parasite

 The dream I had after S. found the knife I hid beneath the nightstand

 The one where I saw our sons using sticks as swords, their mouths yellow

and chose not to have them

 The first gentle boy from my childhood is back and we are in love

 When the church burns down and my sisters and I are blamed

 The one where what I love is not unwell, not in need at all, so I shrink to the size of a kitchen ant and crawl away

 My mother is my daughter and when she speaks, hummingbirds fill her mouth like arrows

 The one where I actually forgive him and he leans back then, rests his eyes, says

            There is no ending

  Alessandra sends me two pictures of her son eating his first strawberry

 while I’m home alone reading about central sleep apnea because this morning Calvin woke me up at 5AM by rubbing my back because (he said) I kept holding my breath and he is afraid (but doesn’t say) that I might stop breathing all together. On our jog today Cara told me that she’s going to try dating again and there isn’t much out there so she’s meeting a corporate lawyer all the way in Seattle for lunch on Thursday. Part of me is jealous—to get to meet strangers that you might have sex with or raise a puppy with is to feel very specifically alive right? The internet says I cannot suffocate in my sleep. I have this one memory of when I’m four or five and my father is sitting in the tub and I just let myself in to the bathroom and ask him how often he clipped his toenails and he laughs like kids are so fucking werid and says and said Maybe once a week? When we can’t stop worrying about each others deaths this is how I know we need each other. I can’t remember Alessandra’s baby’s name even though I met him once when we were in Portland. I don’t want children but one time on a long drive I imagined a three or four year old kid in the backseat of my Subaru asking me smart and weird kid questions and me giving honest answers and developing this whole lifelong relationship with a human like there is a way to never be lonely. I was startled by a sound but it wasn’t really a sound just a door closing in my body. I didn’t tell Calvin about it. Instead we talked about our little sisters and how we’re scared for them. The internet says my brain will panic and wake me up. I tell him I want him to confide in me but what do you say to I have a very real fear that the next time I hear about her it could be that she’s dead. I get it at least somewhat—what it means to see a boat drifting away from you. The last time I saw M she was more angry than any person I can remember it was like being beside a live wire I wasn’t sure if I could speak if I could even ask her if she was okay without making her not okay like the whole world is made of string and it can unravel if you say or even think the wrong thing. I don’t think there is a way to never be lonely. In the pictures the baby’s fingers are red and his laughing and sitting on a checkered picnic blanket and it looks like real summer in Wisconsin. I don’t really want to date strangers again. Everyone good I’ve found I still don’t know how I kept them. Some days I don’t want him to leave the house for fear of what might happen next. I remember when M and I were little she was hardly ever mad just withdrawn and we were there like two islands beside each other never really able to say what we meant or needed and now my mother calls me and she’s just painted the trim in the living room mountain air white and she starts to cry thinking about thirty years in the house where she raised us that she wants to sell and I say You haven't left yet and she says I’m already gone. Calvin just texts his sister now even though he knows he won’t get a response and I imagine those messages floating in a black void with stars because it all goes somewhere. I write back Don't you wish you could remember your first strawberry? The interest promises me I’ll take another breath.

 The mountain has no childhood to speak of

 and no child to soothe. Thought it might tell you something

of its formation, even though it does not remember.

 Or that there is no universally agreed upon definition

of a mountain. It would speak less about light

 and ascension and more about its insides. I have veins,

the mountain would say, a circulatory system of sorts

 but no organs. The mountain would predict your disappointment.

It would refuse your offer for a brain and a heart. Knowledge

 and loneliness, the mountain would explain, pass from sky

to water to stone. Mountain embodies strangeness, thus has no notion

 of strangeness. Mountain understands destination.

It has been desired. It knows you

 think it’s trapped; that it has never left and will never leave.

But, if we let it speak, it would tell you: I have touched

 every corner and crevice of this carved valley. Has seen so much

come and go⁠—loon, kingfisher, lynx. The people that

 tried to erase people. Mountain has hounded

wander. But will have nothing to say about hunger.

 If you sit with it long enough, mountain might admit, I am afraid

of dying. Of the slow wearing, the slow away. Wind and water.

 Mountain will teach you a word that means both companion

and destroyer. Though it does not sleep, mountain dreams,

 of being ripped out by the roots. Mountain wonders

if mountains bleed.

Caitlin Scarano is a poet based in northwest Washington. She holds a PhD in English (creative writing) from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and an MFA in Poetry from the University of Alaska Fairbanks. She was selected as a participant in the National Science Foundation’s Antarctic Artists & Writers Program. Her debut collection of poems, Do Not Bring Him Water, was released in Fall 2017. Her work has appeared in Granta, Best New Poets, Best Small Fictions, Carve, and Colorado Review. You can find her at caitlinscarano.com

#Caitlin Scarano #poetry #special feature