#i saw 'there are many advantages to being a star scream fan'

[bumbleblurr]

there are many disadvantages to being a blurr fan

#Transformers #cyberverse #tfa #transformers animated #blurr #tfa blurr #not blurb #i saw 'there are many advantages to being a star scream fan' #and 'there are many disadvantages to being a geologist' (w/ a picture of cole n1njago falling into the void) #and then i connected the dots in my mind #transformers idw #shattered glass #ok i think thats all the tags #theres no tags for tf uk comics i dont think #ive actually only seen tfa & cyberverse i just wanted to beat everybody else to the punchline for all the other blurr deaths

[candychronicles]

bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnharem collab

[sunlightandsuffering]

Prompt : they are both famous and secretly dating.

tbh I don't know what this is or if it makes any sense at all, so sorry anon for butchering ur prompt, but I'm a basic bitch and I like my drake, so like this is gonna be pain bcuz my favourite song on the new album is just pain and I can't stop thinking about a fucked up celebs relationship to it, just ANGST AND PAIN!! 😭😭 but those lyrics hit, can't believe I wrote a song fic ugh circa Tumblr 2015 jfc I'mma write a happier ending to this in another prompt 😂 bc someone else asked for the same thing.

Fucking Fans

I'm still working on me

Eren stands at the Met Gala, holding Mikasa by the waist, giving a cramped smile for photos and keeping her close. People call their names and cameras flash and his beloved blinks, hiding her face into his shoulder as the lights overwhelm her.

He looks down at her lovingly as some jackass reporter yells about a cheating rumour and her pretty face pinches up. Eren is quick to comfort her with his touch, both hands gripping her waist reassuringly as he decides it's time for them to go inside.

"Come on Miki," he kisses her forehead and she nods, accepting. Neither of them wants to think about those rumours, the damage and the pain they bring up is too much and it's all his fault, he knows, but he can't undo it.

The guilt eats at him and she holds his hand tighter, the despair takes him and she cuddles him at night.

They're together now but sometimes Eren wonders just how it happened, how he came back from falling so far. How she took him back when he fucked up so massively.

And I'm coming back better for you

The day he shows up on her door step again is the day of the biggest awards show of the season, the one he knows she's going to kill and probably sweep several categories. Just because she's that amazing. He finds her where he expects, in her apartment, the address Armin gave him, doing her own hair and makeup, humble Mikasa just like always, ironing out her own dress. He shows up in a suit with as many white roses as he can fit into a bouquet and ready to leave if she still hates him, which she has every right to.

But he's been through months of therapy, gave Armin control of his bank account, and check himself into rehab thrice, every time he was even inching closer to relapse.

He's not fixed, but he's better, marginally, and he wants her to know it, know he still loves her at the very least.

She opens the door, beautiful even without makeup, and wearing a white slip and her pretty red mouth parts in shock.

All he can do is hold out his roses as tears leave his eyes at seeing her for the first time in months.

Most times it was my selfishness and your helplessness that I took advantage of

It was so easy with Mikasa, she was so devoted to him. So loving and sweet, always there for him.

She'd wait up, let him do what he wanted, never wanting to stifle or control him. Too afraid their tenuous relationship would crack and they'd break up.

A part of him blames her for it, for being so willing to let him do what he wanted. She'd been passive, unsure how to insert herself, had minimal complaints, letting him ruin his life party by party, late night after late night, drugs and alcohol all of it.

But he knows he can never hold her accountable for his own actions, and the day she's finally done with his bullshit is both the best and worst day of his life. She finally says no, and it begins his path to fixing himself. Because hitting rock bottom is losing the most important thing in his life, and that's Mikasa.

You sit in the house and I be out and I know you're worried, up

The problem with her passivity is he knows it's not passivity at all, she just doesn't know what to do, how to fix him. Eren has always had a temper, and she's known him for a long time, knows he'll lash out and behave worse if provoked. So she'd reacted as best she could, leaving rehab pamphlets out, asking him to stay in and watch movies, bake with her, anything other than going out to party.

But he'd stumble home every night and see her asleep on the couch, waiting. Always there to pick him up instead of a cab, not wanting the paparazzi to get a hold of him, she was always there.

And you try and block it out

They lived in a bubble, they pretended it didn't happen. They didn't acknowledge when he was too hungover to shoot the next morning. She'd brew him coffee, get him through the day, flush his drug stash when they checked, both his saving grace and biggest enabler.

Even when he's kissing her for more than just an on-screen kiss, lips drinking her in like a man starved, and the next morning she finds new girls in his bed, she keeps quiet.

They're a mess, but every time she dutifully kicks the girls out and drags him to the shower.

I'm so sorry for letting you down

When he'd first become famous, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been scouted for how many movies, tv-shows, underwear commercials, brand deals. It was a whirlwind as Hollywood found their new boy wonder, handsome, smart and a nice boy.

His best friend, and female love interest in their debut movie, Mikasa, who had followed him to Hollywood on nothing more than a whim, was equally bombarded with fame and fortune. They'd always been close, always best friends, but never quite more, no matter how much they both obviously wanted it. It never progressed beyond a few acted kisses.

Still, they got an apartment together, and Eren had thought it was the start of something great, he was living the dream. Rich and famous with his best friend, the girl he'd secretly loved since he was young.

He'd been content just to stay up late and watch movies with her before work, to visit her on set and bring her donuts. They were Hollywood's shining stars, two kids sickeningly sweet in love even though they weren't officially dating, they were as good as.

At the advice of his agent, he'd started doing more, started picking up a few other gigs on the side, modelling, but he kept it small, he didn't want to overwhelm himself, and he still wanted time for Mikasa.

It had gone well, they'd taken fame okay, and Eren had been proud, neither of them had a sex-scandal or a pregnancy scare yet. They'd even been inching towards finally being something more than just friends, a few heated looks, some on-stage kisses to finally get the ball rolling.

Then Mikasa had been cast in an upcoming romance movie and her love interest hadn't been Eren, it had been Jean.

That had been the start of his spiral.

He'd never meant for it to get so far out of control, how many movies he started doing, how many promotions. Meanwhile Mikasa, smart, brilliant Mikasa stuck with smaller projects and only ever one at a time, preferring to keep close to their apartment. He was all she had, and she was all he wanted.

Nights when I just needed to hold somebody

He misses her, lays in bed awake at night thinking about her, how long it’s been, when was the last time he saw the curve of her face in person and not in a washed-out picture on a magazine. Girls in and out of his apartment, trying to fill the empty void inside him, and nothing works, nothing ever works. Because he’d fucked it up, said he didn’t need her, told her he could do it on his own, fame wouldn’t take him. Called each other names, every one in the book, screaming matches over stupid shit, if he should take that job, what she was doing with Jean, how she was eating, if she was eating enough.

The toxicity was palpable in their apartment until finally Mikasa just left and he broke.

Feeling overwhelmed, should've told somebody

Fame takes him like a drug addiction, actually it comes with a drug addiction, heroine, cocaine, molly, all of it. In trying to ditch his Hollywood’s sweetheart, good boy image he diverts his life so radically he doesn’t know if he can ever get back to where he was. He loses weight, barely gets by, he doesn’t even understand how he’s still getting booked, but people want him even more now that he’s Hollywood’s bad boy. Meanwhile Mikasa is disgraced now that he’s ‘thrown her away’ even though it was the other way around. Last he heard she lived in a little apartment on the upper east side, leaves only to work, and to fly up to see their families. He hasn’t seen his parents in months, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they realize how skinny he’s gotten, how his body lacks muscle, skin barely clinging to bone, gaunt and lifeless.

He needs help, but he’s spiraling, he’s committed and no matter how many times Armin tries to get him into rehab, he never goes. What’s the point Mikasa is gone, he’s not getting her back, all he has now is the money, the drugs, and the women.

Picturin' it's me sending chills through your body

He hears she’s dating Jean now and somehow, he gets worse.

Every fear he’d ever had comes to life and he gets angry, his temper coming back full force. The past few months he’d barely been getting by, not really living, but his rage awakens him. She’d told him no, that they weren’t dating, never so much as kissed outside of work. What a fucking lie.

How many girls he takes home that month he doesn’t know, how many paparazzi photos of women leaving his apartment, how he dreams it’s Mikasa under him, not some rando.

He sees her on the cover of some magazine, walking innocently with Jean and it sends him into even more of a rage, but under it all he wishes it was him, doesn’t matter that they were never official, that it only happened a few times, he wants her back. But Eren’s never been good at navigating his emotions, so he clings to his rage like a lifeline.

I just probably should've chilled 'til I saw you

When they ask about her in interviews, he doesn’t answer. Not until that once, when he lets it slip and he watches Armin wilt in real time from behind the camera as he spits the words, “I think it’s obvious, she’s with Jean now isn’t she, right after she was with me, figure it out yourself.”

The insinuation is lethal, cruel, mean and he knows it’s not true, but he says it anyway. He knows she didn't do it, but still the coincidence hurts too much, the very thought that there might have been something romantic going on with them before makes him want to throw up.

The interviewer looks shocked before he brightens up at the tidbit of information, like a vulture picking apart the last pieces of his heart, massacring it further, but Eren doesn’t mind the pain anymore. It fuels his rage and that’s all he has these days.

How am I supposed to get to know somebody?

When the rage wears off months later and Mikasa has done nothing, no comment on his interviews, no appearances, no angry texts, just silence, he becomes numb. Then the sadness sets in, because losing her romantically isn’t even the worst part, he doesn’t even have his best friend anymore, he’s lost her too.

She’s become a recluse, a hermit, he hasn’t even seen her with Jean on the magazine covers lately. Distantly he knows it’s because their movie is finished filming, and she was probably never dating him in the first place.

He goes to awards shows in hopes of at least catching a glimpse but she’s gone into hiding, there’s rumours she’s back in their hometown, but he’d never visit, not with the disgrace he’s become. He tries to date seriously, tries to talk to other actresses, but it’s all so vacant, disingenuous. All they want him for is his image, there’s nothing real about these women anymore, everything is fake, plastic right down to their boobs. Nothing like Mikasa, who was pure to her core, even in the face of her fame.

If we broke it off then you know it wasn't painless

He'd cried for weeks after she'd ended it, despite it being entirely his fault.

Armin had cancelled all his engagements and Eren hadn't left the apartment, curling himself up on her empty mattress, her room a barren wasteland.

He'd only eaten when Armin forced him too, and only come out of his hibernation after his mother had called to yell, Armin holding the phone right in his ear, the first time he'd spoken to her in forever.

If she got a watch then you know it's not a stainless

He’s got money, but it means nothing. Mikasa has money too, it doesn’t even matter. What has it all been for? He doesn’t even know anymore. All he’s gotten from his acting career is trust issues, more money than he knows what do with and the loss of his best friend and the only girl he’s ever loved.

It’s all a blur now, he acts, he models, he does PR. Armin makes him a schedule and he follows it. They meet with his nutritionist and his personal trainer, and he starts working out again, eating real food, not just smoking, and drinking coffee to supress his appetite.

Armin is the only reason he’s still a functioning human being as Eren hits rock bottom. The only one left to try and push him out.

I was out here fucking fans, I was shameless

He knows he fucked up, it’s why he starts therapy.

The shit he’d done, high off his own fame and arrogance, it’s messed up and he he knows it now. All the girls, all the money and the drugs, ignoring Mikasa’s concerns, dragging her down with him.

He doesn’t blame her now, he knows none of it was fair, she was justified in leaving. They were toxic, their half on, half off relationship, how he'd commit to the drugs but never her.

He can still remember the first time he kissed her, really kissed her, Eren and Mikasa not two characters on screen. It was after their first awards show for their movie, he’d been so excited, so delightfully sober, he couldn’t help himself, she’d been so pretty in her white dress, he’d leaned down before he could stop himself. The first night they’d had sex, her moans, her soft cries of pleasure, nothing had ever measured up since.

It had been bliss, for about a month or so and then they’d really been discovered, and it had all been shot to hell.

All the fans, all the women throwing themselves at him, his eyes couldn’t help but wander despite Mikasa always being the most radiant in the room. He had her love, he’d had everything, but that insidious voice in the back of his head had wondered. Thought the grass was greener on the other side, wanting to explore fame at the same time they’d finally started their relationship.

You was at the crib reading stories that they sent you

They’d kept it casual at Eren’s insistence and Mikasa’s heartbreak, his rock had been willing to allow it for him, for the chance to finally explore their relationship. But he could see how much it hurt her, the tabloids were the worst part, every day a new cover, another apartment he’d leave, another hookup in the parking lot. And he could barely justify it to himself, why he did it, why he continued to do it? He had everything he could ever want in Mikasa, the girl he’d loved since forever, finally in the palm of his hand, willing to give herself wholly to him.

And yet fame had called him more, and the people he was hanging out with only encouraged it, the famous lifestyle, drugs, sex and rock and roll.

Everyone was doing it, so why shouldn’t he?

Most of that was bullshit but some of it I did do

The rumours spiralled out of control after a while, there was nothing he could do, it was over, they had too much on him.

He'd been telling himself lies that maybe she was with Jean on the side, that she had the same opportunities as him, she could go out and sleep around too.

As if Mikasa would ever even consider it.

He’d finally given into being exclusive, seeing the toll it was taking on Mikasa, after Armin smacked him upside the head and told him he was going to lose her if he didn’t get his shit together. Eren had finally realized how irreversibly he was fucking up his relationship, but by then, it had been too late.

When they finally started truly dating, monogamy and all, it had been far, far too late. The backlog of photos the paparazzi had was ridiculous, any opportunity they got to demonize him they took.

He and Mikasa been casual at the time of all the photos, sure, but anyone would buckle under the weight of constant articles about their significant other cheating. Eren became the villain in his own story, and Hollywood loved it, ‘Bad Boy Eren Yeager Ditches Mikasa Ackerman’. He still remembers the headline, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, she’d come home, dropped the offending magazine on the coffee table and hidden in her room for the rest of the night. He’d slept outside her door, and the next morning he’d been woken by her stepping over him to leave, bags packed.

It was sad, they’d never even officially dated to the public, they hadn’t gotten to that point. She’d wanted to reveal it at some awards show by taking him as her date, thanking him in her speech, her boyfriend, Eren Yeager. Overnight the paparazzi had singlehandedly broken them up for shit he hadn’t even done.

He had no one but himself to blame.

Hard for me to justify the women I was into

Looking back, he can’t say why he did it or what the purpose of all the models that looked eerily like her were for. Maybe he was trying to fill the empty space in his heart, maybe he felt neglected by her friendship with Jean and how obvious the man’s feeling for her were, but for one reason or another, he’d slept his way through about half of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and award shows were awkward these days. Meeting the eyes of all the talented women he’d hooked up with in such a professional setting was uncomfortable at best.

How many more did he not even remember, to high off drugs and alcohol and his own ego?

Especially when the whole entire world wished they had you

He’d seen it in how Jean looked at her the first time they’d walked the red carpet as promotion for their movie. The tall man was a b-list actor and he’d been invited to the pre-screening, and he’d watched Mikasa the entire night. His gaze wasn’t moved by Eren’s arm wrapped protectively around her waist or his chin resting on her head, nor the possessive hand on her thigh.

They hadn’t even been fooling around back then, but he couldn’t help himself, he didn’t want Jean’s eyes on her. She was also Mikasa Ackerman, and the whole world thought she was just as beautiful and amazing and perfect as he did.

But she was his. His best friend, love of his life, his everything

If only he’d treated her like it.

Probably made you want to hit the streets on everything

She doesn't take him to the awards show the night he comes begging, but she lets him inside her apartment. Lets him help her with her hair, something he's sorely missed. Something he's familiar with, been braiding her hair since they were kids.

He helps her put it up into a beautiful twist.

And when Jean knocks at her door to take her to the awards show he lets her go, kisses her cheek and tells her how much he loves her, how she's going to win it all and he'll be waiting her when she gets back.

And then she leaves, walks away with another man and Eren thinks he deserves it, it's his penance, how many times has she felt this same way, how many women has he been through?

Probably made you want to pour bleach on everything

He discovers not a single remnant of himself in her apartment, no pictures, no clothes she's borrowed. Even his old sweatshirt, her favourite one is gone. Hell, even their award for best-onscreen-kiss is gone.

He finds it all in a crumpled box under her bed and it's his own fault for snooping, their photo crumpled up and misshapen, riddled with water damage. Probably from her tears if he had to guess.

Probably made you want to kill me on everything

She comes home that night and Eren is surprised, he'd expected her to go to Jean's. Hadn't really believed she was going to come back. Had resigned himself to sleeping on the couch and waiting till tomorrow when she'd come home dishevelled and covered in hickeys and bruises, the kind good sex gives you. The kind he'd never really allowed himself to give her.

That's when she'd really broken and he'd been so fucking happy when she'd thrown her purse at him. No more of her her silent rage, her forced smiles. She'd kicked and screamed, cried in his arms only to hit him brutally with a pillow, chasing him to the end of the couch. Hands restraining his wrists, as she curses him out, tears running down her beautiful cheeks sparkling in the moonlight, she's a vengeful goddess and he deserves every second of her wrath.

She collapses on top of him in a heap of sobs and all he can do is hold her, hating himself just as much as he's sure she does.

Yeah, trust, I know that

He wakes the next morning with her weight in his arms, and he holds her like he never wants to let go.

He's lucky she's even here with him right now, that she didn't kick him out on the spot. That she even cares enough to still fight with him. He kisses her forehead softly, he knows.

Yeah I kinda hate this but whatever have angst 🤷🏻‍♀️

#lys's drabbles

[heliads]

The Football Player (Part Two)

Based on this request: “Bucky is a football player and you are a fan of the team but you’re also really shy. Secretly Bucky also developed a crush on you. He sees you getting mocked by some idiots and he gets in between to stand up for you. Later then he asks you for a walk and he kisses you.”

part one / masterlist

To be honest, you’re not entirely sure that the last couple of days have actually happened. Bucky Barnes, star football player and receiver of about a thousand crushes from all of the girls at your college, asked you out? If you’d heard that a week ago, you would have laughed, but it’s real. All of it. 

Your friend was over the moon when you told her. She had grabbed you by the hand, dragging you away to some isolated corner of the campus so you could go over everything, detail by detail. Honestly, she might have a bigger lot in this date than you, and that’s saying something. You’re pretty sure that the high pitch of her excited scream upon hearing the news could shatter glass, or possibly just your eardrums.

Now, all you have left to do is plan out exactly what you’re going to wear and do on this date. You’d asked Bucky what you’d be doing, but he’d just winked and said that he had a plan. You’re not entirely sure what that means, but the excited grin tugging at his lips had convinced you that it was going to be absolutely perfect, just like him. Just like the idea that he loved you and you loved him, and everything was going to be alright.

In the end, you meet him in the late afternoon, just before the golden hour of dusk when everything takes on an additional shade of rose and mystery. Bucky had picked you up outside your dorm, driving you off campus to a spot he’d picked out earlier. You had your doubts beforehand, half convincing yourself that none of this was real and it would end up being a study date or something, but the look in his eyes when he saw you coming out was like none you’d ever seen before. Either he’s an amazing actor, or he’s truly head over heels for you. When he presents you with a hand-picked bouquet of flowers, you’re pretty sure it’s the latter.

Now you sit beside him in his car, watching him tap absentmindedly on the steering wheel as you wait for the red light to turn green. You feel like you have an entire storm of butterflies making themselves a home in your stomach, but you’re too excited to even think about turning back.

Eventually, Bucky comes to a stop in a parking lot that’s more gravel and sand than asphalt, helping you out and into the fading sunshine. A light breeze toys at your face as you look around you, recognizing the wind-washed slats of a nearby boardwalk. You turn to Bucky with a smile as he holds up a slightly battered notebook the size of a cell phone. “I’ve got it all planned out here. First, we walk around the shops, then we get ice cream at the place down the block, and then we can head down to the beach until it’s too dark to see anything.”

You can’t help but laugh, letting the sound ripple away from you, carried away by the breeze. “I’m impressed. You planned all of this out?” Bucky nods, tapping the notebook against his hands. “It’s Steve’s notebook, actually, but this was a very important occasion so I borrowed it.” You raise an eyebrow, unable to hide a grin. “You stole your friend’s notebook for the date?” Bucky loops an arm around your waist, guiding you towards the boardwalk. “I had to make sure everything was perfect. I’m sure he won’t notice.”

In the end, it turns out that the sacrifice of Steve’s notebook is indeed for a worthy cause- Bucky has planned out every detail, every shop. You find yourself laughing harder than you have in a long time, watching as the setting sun brings out copper highlights in Bucky’s hair and eyes that you never noticed before. He seems reluctant to let go of his touch on your arm, choosing instead to escort you around like a proper gentleman. You can’t find it in yourself to have a problem with this.

Later, when you feel like you must have walked miles up and down the time-worn wooden slats and poked your head inside every small antiques shop and brightly-postered tourist trap, Bucky points out the ice cream store at the very end. It’s such a walk from the entrance that not many visitors have taken the arduous journey down to its front stoop, but Bucky swears by it and so the two of you slip inside, smiling at the bright ring of the bell affixed to the door.

The chill of the air conditioning, albeit arriving only in irregular cycles, is a welcome balm and you enjoy the simple feeling of Bucky’s hand linked around yours as you peruse the menus taped to the walls before ordering. The two of you take seats outside underneath a striped awning, watching the other beachgoers play on the sands below. When he attempts to steal a bite of your ice cream, you fend him away with your spoon, imagining the defending swoops of plastic against plastic to be the clash of metal swords in an all too crucial duel. 

Once the sun has begun to slide beneath the horizon, you walk with him down to the beach, slipping off your shoes and holding them in your hand. The feeling of the cool waves against your feet soothes the dim heat of the sand, and you let the night breeze cool your temples. Bucky picks you up, twirling you around in the air before kissing you. You can taste the salt air on every breath, and you can’t help but hope that this night will never end.

Eventually, however, the sky darkens from rose to indigo to inky black, and stars begin to spangle themselves across the horizons. You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually one well-cursed yawn tears itself from your lungs and Bucky holds out his arms, ready to take you home. You lean against him as you walk, letting your head slump against his shoulder. You feel him press a kiss to your head, and curl into him a little more.

You’re only a few feet from the parking lot when things take a turn for the worst. Perhaps the universe sensed that things were going too well for you tonight, and wanted to balance out the scales. Regardless, when you see the silhouettes of a few rival football players emerge from the shadows of the closed-down shops, you can’t help but know that this won’t end well.

You go to Mid-Capital University, home of the Avengers, and if there’s one thing you know it’s that the MCU football team has a long and lasting rivalry with Pierce University, home of the Hydras. Most colleges have rivals, that much is true, but there’s nothing like this one. You’ve heard stories of the Hydras crossing fans of your school and giving them trouble, or breaking into the MCU locker rooms to steal gear and damage property. Judging by the look in the eyes of the Hydras in front of you, they both recognize Bucky as a star player on the team they hate and are eager for retribution for their latest loss.

Bucky recognizes them too, and you feel him stiffen beside you. His arm gently unlaces itself from yours, guiding you to stand slightly behind him. He speaks to the football players, making sure to keep his voice light. “Hey, boys. Mind if we pass through?” The leader of the pack, Brock Rumlow, steps forward. “Afraid not, Barnes. We’ve got unfinished business.”

Bucky tilts his head to the side, brow furrowing. “We don’t want trouble, not tonight. Let us through.” Brock folds his arms across his chest. “What, you don't want to get into a fight in front of your girl? Too bad, Barnes. We’ve been waiting for this for a while.” Bucky turns to face you, jaw already set. “Get to the car, now. I’ll be right behind you.” You don’t hesitate, taking in the determined look in his eyes as the rival football players draw ever closer, and dodge around the Hydras to get back to the parking lot. They let you go, but they do eye you in a way that makes you pull your arms closer around yourself.

Once you make it back to the parking lot and stand anxiously by the car, you find that you don’t know what to do. There were only a couple of them, and Bucky’s stronger than them by far, but the odds are definitely against him. You don’t think any of Bucky’s friends on the MCU football team would arrive in time to help him, and Bucky specifically told you to get to safety, so you can’t involve yourself. Besides, you dressed for a cute date, not a fight. You’re not sure your shoes would support you against football players whose biceps are the size of your head.

This being said, you hate the idea of just standing here and waiting to see what happens, so you pick your way back through the line of cars to see what’s going on. From the first glance, it looks bad. Bucky’s managing to hold his own, but there’s only so much you can do when the fight is three to one. As you watch, one of them brings his leg down hard on Bucky’s left arm. Even from here, you can see that the impact is brutal, and hear the groan of pain echo across the empty boardwalk.

You must have made some sort of sound, maybe a gasp of horror, because Bucky’s eyes fly to you. They linger on you for a second, and then a new wave of determination floods through them, and he stands back up again to take on the football players once more. As you draw closer, you almost trip on a large rock next to your foot. A sudden idea enters your head, and you pick it up, tossing it once or twice in your palm before launching it at one of the football players. It hits his hand hard, and you can hear the impact of stone against bone even from where you stand. 

The Hydra grimaces in pain, turning towards you in a mixture of rage and surprise. Bucky takes advantage of his sudden distraction to hit him one last time. The Hydras look at each other, taking in the bruises and weakened arms already lacing their features, and without another word, take off into the night. The second they’re gone, you run over to Bucky, eyes flying to the way he hugs his left arm as if it’s been seriously hurt.

Bucky just laughs, the sound echoing off into the night and rattling off of the closed shops. “You have good aim, doll. Maybe you should try out for the team too.” You smile at that, although you can’t shake the worry knotting in your gut. “What about your arm? What if it’s really hurt and you can’t play?” Bucky considers it, moving it stiffly back and forth, then shakes his head. “I think it’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, Y/N, I’m more worried about you. All my planning for a perfect date and you had to see that.”

You scoff, surprising yourself. “I’m not a delicate daisy, I can see a fight and move on. I wasn’t the one who had to fight off three guys at once.” Bucky manages a grin, brimming over in a mixture of surprise and pride. “Maybe so. I’m not intending on doing it again any time soon, though.” You tilt your head to the side. “I’d hope not.”

The two of you end up driving home, and you let Bucky into your dorm through the empty hallways so you can see to his arm. It ends up being fine, just requiring a few bandages to keep it in place so it can heal properly. The mixture of gray doctor’s tape and bandages reflects off the light, making it look like it’s almost made of metal. You look up at him, worried. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

Bucky smiles, gently touching the side of your face with his good arm. “I’m sure of it. I’ve got you to look after me, don’t I?” You let yourself smile at that. “You do indeed.” Maybe it’ll hurt him a little longer, maybe it won’t. You intend to stay by his side to see it through.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise​

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier oneshot #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #avengers oneshot #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel oneshot #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu oneshot

[theculturedmarxist]

Below is the story of my day touring Tema with Prince Philip, in this chapter from my book “The Catholic Orangemen of Togo”. You may be surprised to read that I rather liked him.

The African Queen

One morning I was sitting in the lounge at Devonshire House, with its fitted wool carpets and chintz sofas. I was drinking the tea that our steward, Nasser, had brought me. I heard movement in a corner of the room, and thought it must be Nasser cleaning there. But looking round, I saw nobody. Puzzled, I got up and walked towards that corner. Rounding a settee, I nearly stood upon a thin, green snake. About four feet long and just the thickness of your thumb, it was a bright, almost lime green colour. There was not much wedge shape to its head, which rather tapered from its neck. Its tongue was flickering toward me, perhaps a foot away, its head raised only slightly off the floor. I took a step backwards. In response it too retreated, at surprising speed, and zipped up the inside of the curtains.

I stood stock still and yelled “Nasser! Nasser!” This brought Nasser hurrying into the living room with Gloria, the cook. “Nasser, there’s a snake in the curtains!” Nasser and Gloria screamed, threw their arms in the air, and ran together into the kitchen and out the back door of the house. This was not altogether helpful.

I remained where I was to keep an eye on the snake, not wanting it to be lurking inside the house unseen. After a while the front door opened and somebody, presumably Nasser, threw in Nasser’s scruffy little dog. The dog was normally banned from the house, and celebrated this unexpected turn of events by immediately urinating against the hall table. Then the dog too ran into the kitchen and out of the back door.

Abandoning my watch, I went out and recruited the reluctant gardeners and gate guards. They armed themselves with long sticks and came in and beat the curtains until the snake fell onto the floor. As it sped for cover under a sofa, Samuel the youngest gardener got in a solid blow, and soon everyone was joining in, raining down blows on the twitching snake. They carried its disjointed body out on the end of a stick, and burnt it on a bonfire.

Everyone identified it as a green mamba. I was sceptical. Green mambas are among the world’s deadliest snakes, and I imagined them to look beefy like cobras, not whip thin and small headed like this. But a search on the agonisingly slow internet showed that indeed it did look very like a green mamba.

The important question arose of how it had entered the house. With air conditioning, the doors and windows were usually shut. Nasser seemed to have solved the mystery when he remarked that a dead one had been found last year inside an air conditioner. The unit had stopped working, and when they came to fix it they found a snake jammed in the mechanism. That seemed the answer; it had appeared just under a conditioner, and it seemed likely the slim snake had entered via the vent pipe, avoiding the fan as it crawled through the unit.

This was very worrying. If anti-venom was available (and we held a variety in the High Commission) an adult would probably survive a green mamba bite. But it would almost certainly be fatal to Emily, and possibly to Jamie.

A week or so later, I was constructing Emily’s climbing frame, which had arrived from the UK. A rambling contraption of rungs, slides, platforms and trampolines, it required the bolting together of scores of chrome tubes. I was making good progress on it and, as I lifted one walkway side into position above my head, a mamba slid out of the end of the tube, down my arm, round my belly and down my leg. It did this in no great hurry; it probably took four seconds, but felt like four minutes.

There was one terrible moment when it tried an exploratory nuzzle of its head into the waistband of my trousers, but luckily it decided to proceed down the outside to the ground. It then zig zagged across the lawn to nestle in the exposed tops of the roots of a great avocado tree. Again the mob arrived and beat it to death with sticks. I persuaded them to keep the body this time, and decided that definite action was needed.

I called in a pest control expert. I was advised to try the “Snake Doctor”. I was a bit sceptical, equating “Snake Doctor” with “Witch Doctor”, but when he arrived I discovered that this charming chubby Ghanaian really did have a PhD in Pest Control from the University of Reading. As Fiona had an MSc in Crop Protection from the same Department, they got on like a house on fire and it was difficult to get them away from cups of tea to the business in hand.

He confirmed that the dead snake really was a green mamba. We obviously had a colony. They lived in trees, and he advised us to clear an area of wasteland beyond the boundaries of our house, and build a high boundary wall of rough brick at the back, rather than the existing iron palings. He also suggested we cut down an avenue of some 16 huge mature trees along the drive. I was very sad, but followed this sensible advice. That removed the mamba problem from Devonshire House. But I continued to attract mambas on my travels around Ghana.

The second half of that first year in Ghana was to be almost entirely taken up with preparations for the State Visit of the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh in November 1999. A huge amount of work goes into organising such a visit; every move is staged and choreographed, designed for media effect. You need to know in advance just where everybody is going to be, who will move where when, and what they will say. You need to place and organise the media to best advantage. You need to stick within very strict rules as to what the Queen will or will not do. Most difficult of all, you have to agree all this with the host government.

I had been through it all quite recently, having paid a major part in the organisation of the State Visit to Poland in 1996. That had gone very well. The Poles regarded it as an important symbol that communism had been definitively finished. It was visually stunning, and at a time when the Royal Family was dogged with hostile media coverage, it had been their first unmixed positive coverage in the UK for ages. I had handled the media angles, and my stock stood very high in the Palace.

I am a republican personally; I was just doing my job. The Palace staff knew I was a republican, not least because I had turned down the offer of being made a Lieutenant of the Royal Victorian Order (LVO) after the Warsaw visit. I had earlier turned down the offer to be an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) after the first Gulf war.

Rawlings was delighted that the Queen was coming. He craved respectability and acceptance in the international community, which had been hard to come by after his violent beginnings. But he had turned his Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC) into a political party, the National Democratic Congress (NDC), and had fought elections in 1992 and 1996 against the opposition New Patriotic Party, which had an unbroken tradition running back to Nkrumah’s opponent J B Danquah and his colleague Kofi Busia. There were widespread allegations of vote-rigging, violence and intimidation, and certainly in 1992 the nation was still too cowed to engage in much open debate.

Even by 1999, social life was still inhibited by the fact that nobody except those close to the Rawlings would do anything that might be construed as an ostentatious display of life, while Rawlings had sustained and inflated the personality cult of Nkrumah still further (he is known as Osagyefo, “the conqueror”.) Open discussion of the disasters Nkrumah brought upon Ghana was almost impossible. It is still difficult for many Ghanaians today, after decades of brainwashing. As Rawlings had gradually liberalised society, the increasing freedom of the media, particularly the FM radio station, was giving a great boost to democracy. But there was still much prudent self-censorship. The media was particularly reticent about investigating governmental corruption.

The NDC government was massively corrupt. There was one gratuitous example which especially annoyed me. A company called International Generics, registered in Southampton, had got loans totalling over £30 million from the Royal Bank of Scotland to construct two hotels, La Palm and Coco Palm. One was on the beach next to the Labadi Beach Hotel, the other on Fourth Circular Road in Cantonments, on the site of the former Star Hotel. The loan repayments were guaranteed by the Export Credit Guarantee Department, at the time a British government agency designed to insure UK exporters against loss. In effect the British taxpayer was underwriting the export, and if the loan defaulted the British taxpayer would pay.

In fact, this is what happened, and the file crossed my desk because the British people were now paying out on defaulted payments to the Royal Bank of Scotland. So I went to look at the two hotels. I found La Palm Hotel was some cleared land, some concrete foundations, and one eight room chalet without a roof. Coco Palm hotel didn’t exist at all. In a corner of the plot, four houses had been built by International Generics. As the housing market in Accra was very strong, these had been pre-sold, so none of the loan had gone into them.

I was astonished. The papers clearly showed that all £31.5 million had been fully disbursed by the Royal Bank of Scotland, against progress and completion certificates on the construction. But in truth there was virtually no construction. How could this have happened?

The Chief Executive of International Generics was an Israeli named Leon Tamman. He was a close friend to, and a front for, Mrs Rawlings. Tamman also had an architect’s firm, which had been signing off completion certificates for the non-existent work on the hotel. Almost all of the £30 million was simply stolen by Tamman and Mrs Rawlings.

The Royal Bank of Scotland had plainly failed in due diligence, having paid out on completion of two buildings, one not started and one only just started. But the Royal Bank of Scotland really couldn’t give a toss, because the repayments and interest were guaranteed by the British taxpayer. Indeed I seemed to be the only one who did care.

The Rawlings had put some of their share of this looted money towards payments on their beautiful home in Dublin. I wrote reports on all this back to London, and specifically urged the Serious Fraud Office to prosecute Tamman and Mrs Rawlings. I received the reply that there was no “appetite” in London for this.

Eventually La Palm did get built, but with over $60 million of new money taken this time from SSNIT, the Ghanaian taxpayers social security and pension fund. Coco Palm never did get built, but Tamman continued to develop it as a housing estate, using another company vehicle. Tamman has since died. The loans were definitively written off by the British government as part of Gordon Brown’s HIPC debt relief initiative.

That is but one example of a single scam, but it gives an insight into the way the country was looted. The unusual feature on this one was that the clever Mr Tamman found a way to cheat the British taxpayer, via Ghana. I still find it galling that the Royal Bank of Scotland also still got their profit, again from the British taxpayer.

So while the State Visit was intended as a reward to Jerry Rawlings for his conversion to democracy and capitalism, I had no illusions about Rawlings’ Ghana. I was determined that we should use the Queen’s visit to help ensure that Rawlings did indeed leave power in January 2001. According to the constitution, his second and final four year term as elected President expired then (if you politely ignored his previous decade as a military dictator). We should get the Queen to point him towards the exit.

Buckingham palace sent a team on an initial reconnaissance visit. It was led by an old friend of mine, Tim Hitchens, Assistant Private Secretary to the Queen, who had joined the FCO when I did. We identified the key features of the programme, which should centre around an address to Parliament. A walkabout might be difficult; Clinton had been almost crushed in Accra by an over-friendly crowd in a situation which got out of control. A school visit to highlight DFID’s work would provide the “meet the people” photo op, otherwise a drive past for the larger crowds. Key questions were identified as whether the Queen should visit Kumasi to meet Ghana’s most important traditional ruler, the Asantehene, and how she should meet the leader of the opposition, John Kufuor. Rawlings was likely to be opposed to both.

The recce visit went very well, and I held a reception for the team before they flew back to London. Several Ghanaian ministers came, and it ended in a very relaxed evening. Tim Hitchens commented that it was the first time he had ever heard Queen and Supertramp at an official function before. It turned out that we had very similar musical tastes.

Planning then took place at quite high intensity for several months. There were regular meetings with the Ghanaian government team tasked to organise the visit, headed by head of their diplomatic service Anand Cato, now Ghanaian High Commissioner to the United Kingdom. We then had to visit together all the proposed venues, and walk through the proposed routes, order of events, seating plans etc.

From the very first meeting between the two sides, held in a committee room at the International Conference Centre, it soon became obvious that we had a real problem with Ian Mackley. The High Commissioner had been very high-handed and abrupt with the visiting team from Buckingham Palace, so much so that Tim Hitchens had asked me what was wrong. I said it was just his manner. But there was more to it than that.

In the planning meetings, the set-up did not help the atmosphere. There were two lines of desks, facing each other. The British sat on one side and the Ghanaians on the other, facing each other across a wide divide. The whole dynamic was one of confrontation.

I have sat through some toe-curling meetings before, but that first joint State visit planning meeting in Accra was the worst. It started in friendly enough fashion, with greetings on each side. Then Anand Cato suggested we start with a quick run-through of the programme, from start to finish. “OK, now will the Queen be arriving by British Airways or by private jet?” asked Anand. “She will be on one of the VC10s of the Royal Flight” said Ian. “Right, that’s better. The plane can pull up to the stand closest to the VIP lounge. We will have the convoy of vehicles ready on the tarmac. The stairs will be put to the door, and then the chief of protocol will go up the stairs to escort the Queen and her party down the stairs, where there will be a small reception party…” “No, hang on there” interjected Ian Mackley, “I will go up the stairs before the chief of protocol.” “Well, it is customary for the Ambassador or High Commissioner to be in the receiving line at the bottom of the aircraft steps.” “Well, I can tell you for sure that the first person the Queen will want to see when she arrives in the country will be her High Commissioner.” “Well, I suppose you can accompany the chief up the steps if you wish…” “And my wife.” “Pardon?” “My wife Sarah. She must accompany me up the steps to meet the Queen.” “Look, it really isn’t practical to have that many people going on to an already crowded plane where people are preparing to get off…” “I am sorry, but I must insist that Sarah accompanies me up the stairs and on to the plane.” “But couldn’t she wait at the bottom of the steps?” “Absolutely not. How could she stand there without me?” “OK, well can we then mark down the question of greeting on the plane as an unresolved issue for the next meeting?” “Alright, but our side insists that my wife…” “Yes, quite. Now at the bottom of the steps Her Majesty will be greeted by the delegated minister, and presented with flowers by children.” “Please make sure we are consulted on the choice of children.” “If you wish. There will be national anthems, but I suggest no formal inspection of the Guard of Honour? Then traditional priests will briefly make ritual oblations, pouring spirits on the ground. The Queen will briefly enter the VIP lounge to take a drink.” “That’s a waste of time. Let’s get them straight into the convoy and off.” “But High Commissioner, we have to welcome a visitor with a drink. It is an essential part of our tradition. It will only be very brief.” “You can do what you like, but she’s not entering the VIP lounge. Waste of time.” “Let’s mark that down as another issue to be resolved. Now then, first journey…”

The meeting went on for hours and hours, becoming increasingly ill tempered. When we eventually got to the plans for the State Banquet, it all went spectacularly pear-shaped as it had been threatening to do. “Now we propose a top table of eight. There will be the President and Mrs Rawlings, Her Majesty and the Duke of Edinburgh, The Vice President and Mrs Mills, and Mr and Mrs Robin Cook.” Ian positively went purple. You could see a vein throbbing at the top left of his forehead. He spoke as though short of breath. “That is not acceptable. Sarah and I must be at the top table”. “With respect High Commissioner, there are a great many Ghanaians who will feel they should be at the top table. As we are in Ghana, we feel we are being hospitable in offering equal numbers of British and Ghanaians at the top table. But we also think the best plan is to keep the top table small and exclusive.” “By all means keep it small,” said Ian, “but as High Commissioner I must be on it.” “So what do you suggest?” asked Anand. “Robin Cook” said Ian “He doesn’t need to be on the top table.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Neither could Anand. “I don’t think you are being serious, High Commissioner” he said. “I am entirely serious” said Ian. “I outrank Robin Cook. I am the personal representative of a Head of State. Robin Cook only represents the government.”

I decided the man had taken leave of his senses. I wondered at what stage can you declare your commanding officer mad and take over, like on The Cain Mutiny? Anand was obviously thinking much the same. “Perhaps I might suggest you seek instruction from headquarters on that one?” he asked. “Anyway, can we note that down as another outstanding item, and move on to…” I don’t know whether Ian secretly realised he had overstepped the mark, but he didn’t come to another planning meeting after that, leaving them to me and the very competent Second Secretary Mike Nithavrianakis.

The most difficult question of all was that of meeting the opposition. Eventually we got the agreement of Buckingham Palace and the FCO to say that, if the Queen were prevented from meeting the opposition, she wouldn’t come. But still the most we could get from Rawlings was that the leader of the opposition could be included in a reception for several hundred people at the International Conference Centre.

I had by now made good personal friends with several Ghanaian politicians. Among those who I could have a social drink with any time were, on the government side John Mahama, Minister of Information and Moses Asaga, Deputy Finance Minister, and on the opposition side John Kufuor, leader of the opposition, his colleagues Hackman Owusu-Agyemang, Shadow Foreign Minister, and Nana Akuffo-Addo, Shadow Attorney General.

In the International Conference Centre the precise route the Queen would take around the crowd was very carefully planned, so I was able to brief John Kufuor exactly where to stand to meet her, and brief the Queen to be sure to stop and chat with him. As he was the tallest man in the crowd, this was all not too difficult.

Once the Queen arrived and the visit started, everything happened in a three day blur of intense activity. Vast crowds turned out, and the Palace staff soon calmed down as they realised that the Queen could expect an uncomplicated and old fashioned reverence from the teeming crowds who were turning out to see “Our Mama”.

The durbar of chiefs in front of Parliament House was a riot of colour and noise. One by one the great chiefs came past, carried on their palanquins, preceded by their entourage, drummers banging away ferociously and the chiefs, laden down with gold necklaces and bangles, struggled to perform their energetic seated dances. Many of the hefty dancing women wore the cloth that had been created for the occasion, with a picture of the Queen jiggling about on one large breast in partnership with Jerry Rawlings jiving on the other, the same pairing being also displayed on the buttocks.

After the last of the chiefs went through, the tens of thousands of spectators started to mill everywhere and we had to race for the Royal convoy to get out through the crowds. Robin Cook had stopped to give an ad hoc interview to an extremely pretty South African television reporter. Mike Nithavrianakis tried to hurry him along but got a fierce glare for his pains. Eventually everyone was in their cars but Cook; the Ghanaian outriders were itching to start as the crowds ahead and around got ever denser.

But where was Cook? We delayed, with the Queen sitting in her car for two or three minutes, but still there was no sign of the Secretary of State or his staff getting into their vehicle. Eventually the outriders swept off; the crowds closed in behind and we had abandoned our dilettante Foreign Secretary. Having lost the protection of the convoy and being caught up in the crowds and traffic, it took him an hour to catch up.

Cook was an enigma. I had already experienced his famous lack of both punctuality and consideration when kept waiting to see him over the Sandline Affair. His behaviour now seemed to combine an attractive contempt for protocol with a goat-like tendency – would he have fallen behind to give a very bland interview to a male South African reporter? He was also breaking the tradition that the Foreign Secretary does not make media comments when accompanying the Queen.

When we returned to the Labadi Beach Hotel, there was to be further evidence of Cook’s view that the World revolved around him. He was interviewing FCO staff for the position of his new Private Secretary. Astonishingly, he had decided that it would best suit his itinerary to hold these interviews in Accra rather than London. One candidate, Ros Marsden, had an extremely busy job as Head of United Nations Department. Yet she had to give up three days work to fly to be interviewed in Accra, when her office was just round the corner from his in London. Other candidates from posts around the World had difficult journeys to complete to get to Accra at all. I thought this rather outrageous of Cook, and was surprised nobody else seemed much concerned.

The port town of Tema, linked to Accra by fifteen miles of motorway and fast becoming part of a single extensive metropolis, sits firmly on the Greenwich Meridian. As far as land goes, Tema is the centre of the Earth, being the closest dry spot to the junction of the Equator and the Greenwich Meridian. You can travel South from Tema over 6,000 miles across sea until you hit the Antarctic.

There was in 1999 a particular vogue for linking the Greenwich Meridian with the Millennium. This was because of the role of the meridian in determining not just longitude but time. Of course, the two are inextricably linked with time initially used to calculate longitude. That is why Greenwich hosted both the Naval Academy and the Royal Observatory.

The fascination with all this had several manifestations. There was a BBC documentary travelogue down the Greenwich meridian. There was a best-selling book about the invention of naval chronometers, Longitude by Dava Sobel, which I read and was as interesting as a book about making clocks can be. There were a number of aid projects down the meridian, including by War Child and Comic Relief. Tema and Greenwich became twin towns. And there was the visit of the Duke of Edinburgh to Tema.

I think this was the idea of my very good friend John Carmichael, who was involved in charity work on several of the meridian projects. It was thought particularly appropriate as one of the Duke of Edinburgh’s titles is Earl of Greenwich – though the man has so many titles you could come up with some connection to pretty well anywhere. We could make it a new game, like six degrees of separation. Connect your home town to the Duke of Edinburgh.

Anyway, Tim Hitchens had warned me that the Duke was very much averse to just looking at things without any useful purpose. As we stood looking at the strip of brass laid in a churchyard which marks the line of the meridian, he turned to me and said: “A line in the ground, eh? Very nice.”

But we moved on to see a computer centre that had been set up by a charity to give local people experience of IT and the internet (providing both electricity and phone lines were working, which thank goodness they were today) and the Duke visibly cheered up. He was much happier talking to the instructors and students, and then when we went on to a primary school that had received books from DFID he was positively beaming. The genuinely warm reception everywhere, with happy gaggles of people of all ages cheerfully waving their little plastic union jacks, would have charmed anybody.

We returned to Accra via the coast road and I was able to point out the work of the Ghanaian coffin makers, with coffins shaped and painted as tractors, beer bottles, guitars, desks, cars and even a packet of condoms. The Prince laughed heartily, and we arrived at the Parliament building in high good spirits. There he was first shown to a committee room where he was introduced to senior MPs of all parties. “How many Members of Parliament do you have?” he asked. “Two hundred” came the answer. “That’s about the right number,” opined the Prince, “We have six hundred and fifty MPs, and most of them are a complete bloody waste of time.”

The irony was that there was no British journalist present to hear this, as they had all thought a meeting between Prince Philip and Ghanaian parliamentarians would be too boring. There were Ghanaian reporters present, but the exchange didn’t particularly interest them. So a front page tabloid remark, with which the accompanying photo could have made a paparazzi a lot of money, went completely unreported.

On a State Visit, the media cannot each be at every occasion, as security controls mean they have to be pre-positioned rather than milling about while the event goes ahead. So by agreement, those reporters and photographers accredited to the visit share or pool their photos and copy. At each event there is a stand, or pool. Some events may have more than one pool to give different angles. Each journalist can probably make five or six pools in the course of the visit, leapfrogging ahead of the royal progress. But everyone gets access to material from all the pools. The FCO lays on the transport to keep things under control. Organising the pool positions ahead of the event with the host country, and then herding and policing the often pushy media in them, is a major organisational task. Mike Nithavrianakis had carried it off with style and only the occasional failure of humour. But he had found no takers for Prince Philip in parliament, which proved to be fortunate for us.

I should say that I found Prince Philip entirely pleasant while spending most of this day with him. I am against the monarchy, but it was not created by the Queen or Prince Philip. Just as Colonel Isaac of the RUF was a victim of the circumstances into which he was born, so are they. Had I been born into a life of great privilege, I would probably have turned out a much more horrible person than they are.

Prince Philip then joined the Queen in the parliamentary chamber. Her address to parliament was to be the focal point of the visit. I had contributed to the drafting of her speech, and put a lot of work into it. The speech was only six minutes long (she never speaks longer than that, except at the State Opening of Parliament. Her staff made plain that six minutes was an absolute maximum.) It contained much of the usual guff about the history of our nations and the importance of a new future based upon partnership. But then she addressed Rawlings directly, praising his achievements in bringing Ghana on to the path of democracy and economic stability. The government benches in parliament provided an undercurrent of parliamentary “hear hears”.

But there was to be a sting in the tale: “Next, year, Mr President,” the Queen intoned, “You will step down after two terms in office in accordance with your constitution.” The opposition benches went wild. The Queen went on to wish for peaceful elections and further progress, but it was drowned out by the cries of “hear hear” and swishing of order papers from the benches, and loud cheers from the public gallery. There were mooted cries of “No” from the government side of the chamber.

I had drafted that phrase, and it had a much greater effect than I possibly hoped for, although I did mean it to drive home the message exactly as it was taken.

For a moment the Queen stopped. She looked in bewilderment and concern at the hullabaloo all around her. The Queen has no experience of speaking to anything other than a hushed, respectful silence. But, apart from some grim faces on the government benches, it was a joyful hullabaloo and she ploughed on the short distance to the end of her speech.

Once we got back to the Labadi Beach Hotel, Robin Cook was completely furious. He stormed into the makeshift Private Office, set up in two hotel rooms. “It’s a disaster. Who the Hell drafted that?” “Err, I did, Secretary of State” I said. “Is that you, Mr Murray! I might have guessed! Who the Hell approved it.” “You did.” “I most certainly did not!” “Yes you did, Secretary of State. You agreed the final draft last night.”

His Private Secretary had to dig out the copy of the draft he had signed off. He calmed down a little, and was placated further when the Queen’s robust press secretary, Geoff Crawford, said that he took the view that it was a good thing for the Queen to be seen to be standing up for democracy. It could only look good in the UK press. He proved to be right.

The State Banquet was a rather dull affair. Ian Mackley’s great battle to be on the top table proved rather nugatory as, in very Ghanaian fashion, nobody stayed in their seat very long and people were wandering all over the shop. There were a large number of empty seats as, faced with an invitation to dinner at 7.30pm, many Ghanaians followed their customary practice and wandered along an hour or so late, only to find they would not be admitted. This caused a huge amount of angst and aggravation, from which those of us inside were fortunately sheltered.

Mrs Rawlings had chosen a well known Accra nightclub owner named Chester to be the compère for the occasion. His bar is a relaxed spot in a small courtyard that features good jazz and highlife music, and prostitutes dressed as Tina Turner. It was a second home for the officers of the British Military Advisory and Training Team (BMATT).

Chester himself was friendly and amusing, but amusing in a Julian Clary meets Kenneth Williams meets Liberace sort of way. Chester says he is not gay, (regrettably homosexuality is illegal in Ghana) but his presentation is undeniably ultra camp. It is hard to think of a weirder choice to chair a state banquet, but Chester was a particular pet of Mrs Rawlings.

Chester was stood on the platform next to the Queen, gushing about how honoured he was. His speech was actually very witty, but the delivery was – well, Chester. I turned to Prince Philip and remarked: “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two Queens together before.” To give credit to Chester, I gather he has been telling the story ever since.

High camp was to be a theme of that evening.

Fiona and I accompanied the Royal party back to the Labadi Beach Hotel to say goodnight, after which Fiona returned home to Devonshire House while I remained for a debriefing on the day and review of the plans for tomorrow. By the time we had finished all that it was still only 11pm and I retired to the bar of the Labadi Beach with the Royal Household. The senior staff – Tim and Geoff – withdrew as is the custom, to allow the butlers, footmen, hairdressers and others to let off steam.

The party appeared, to a man, to be gay. Not just gay but outrageously camp. The Labadi Beach, with its fans whirring under polished dark wood ceilings, its panelled bar, displays of orchids, attentive uniformed staff and glossy grand piano – has the aura of a bygone colonial age, like something from Kenya’s Happy Valley in the 1930s. You expect to see Noel Coward emerge in his smoking jacket and sit down at the piano, smoking through a mother of pearl cigarette holder. It is exactly the right setting for a gay romp, and that is exactly what developed after a few of the Labadi Beach’s wonderful tropical cocktails.

We had taken the entire hotel for the Royal party, except that we had allowed the British Airways crew to stay there as always. Now three of their cabin stewards, with two Royal footmen and the Queen’s hairdresser, were grouped around the grand singing Cabaret with even more gusto than Liza. Other staff were smooching at the bar. All this had developed within half an hour in a really magical and celebratory atmosphere that seemed to spring from nothing. I was seated on a comfortable sofa, and across from me in an armchair was the one member of the Household who seemed out of place. The Duke of Edinburgh’s valet looked to be in his sixties, a grizzled old NCO with tufts of hair either side of a bald pate, a boxer’s nose and tattoos on his arms. He was smoking roll-ups.

He was a nice old boy and we had been struggling to hold a conversation about Ghana over the din, when two blokes chasing each other ran up to the settee on which I was sitting. One, pretending to be caught, draped himself over the end and said: “You’ve caught me, you beast!” I turned back to the old warrior and asked: “Don’t you find all this a bit strange sometimes?” He lent forward and put his hand on my bare knee below my kilt: “Listen, ducks. I was in the Navy for thirty years.”

So I made my excuses and left, as the News of the World journalists used to put it. I think he was probably joking, but there are some things that are too weird even for me, and the lower reaches of the Royal household are one of them. I have heard it suggested that such posts have been filled by gays for centuries, just as harems were staffed by eunuchs, to avoid the danger of a Queen being impregnated. Recently I have been most amused by news items regarding the death of the Queen Mother’s long-standing footman, who the newsreaders have been informing us was fondly known as “Backstairs Billy”. They manage to say this without giving the slightest hint that they know it is a double entendre.

The incident in parliament had made the Rawlings government even more annoyed about the proposed handshake in the International Conference Centre reception between the Queen and John Kufuor. My own relationship with Ian Mackley had also deteriorated still further as a result of the Royal Visit. I had the advantage that I already knew from previous jobs the palace officials and Robin Cook’s officials, and of course Robin Cook himself, not to mention the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh. All in all, I suspect that Ian felt that I was getting well above myself.

As the party formed up to walk around the reception in the International Conference Centre, Ian came up to me and grabbed my arm rather fiercely. “You, just stay with the Queen’s bodyguards” he said. I did not mind at all, and attached myself to another Ian, the head of the Queen’s close protection team. I already knew Ian also. Ian set off towards the hall and started ensuring a path was clear for the Queen, I alongside him as ordered. Suddenly I heard Sarah Mackley positively squeal from somewhere behind me: “My God, he’s ahead of the Queen! Now Craig’s ahead of the Queen.” If I could hear it, at least forty other people could. I managed to make myself as invisible as possible, and still to accomplish the introduction to John Kufuor. The government newspaper the Daily Graphic was to claim indignantly that I had introduced John Kufuor as “The next President of Ghana.” Had I done so, I would have been in the event correct in my prediction, but in fact I introduced him as “The opposition Presidential candidate”.

As always, the Queen’s last engagement on the State Visit was to say farewell to all the staff who had helped. She gives out gifts, and confers membership of the Royal Victorian Order on those deemed to merit it. Only once in the Queen’s long reign had she ever been on a state visit and not created our Ambassador or High Commissioner a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order – that is to say, knighted him. Ian and Sarah were to become Sir Ian and Lady Sarah. This seemed to me to mean the world to them.

The day before, Tim Hitchens had turned to me as we were travelling in the car: “Craig, I take it your views on honours have not changed.” “No, Tim, I still don’t want any.” “Good, you see that makes it a bit easier, actually. You see, the thing is, we’re trying to cut down a bit on giving out routine honours. The government wants a more meritocratic honours system. We need to start somewhere. So, in short, Ian Mackley is not going to get his K.” I was stunned. Tim continued: “And as well, you see, it hasn’t exactly escaped our attention that he has … issues with the Ghanaians, and some of his attitudes didn’t exactly help the visit. Anyway, if you were to want your CVO, then that would be more difficult. Ian Mackley is going to have one of those. So that will be alright.”

No, it won’t be alright, I thought. You’ll kill the poor old bastard. For God’s sake, everyone will know.

I wondered when the decision had been taken. The kneeling stool and the ceremonial sword had definitely been unloaded from the plane and taken to the hotel: that was one of the things I had checked off. When had that decision been reached?

We were lined up in reverse order of seniority to go in and see the Queen and Prince Philip. I queued behind the Defence Attaché, with Ian and Sarah just behind me. She was entering as well – nobody else’s wife was – because she was expecting to become Lady Mackley. Tim was going to tell them quickly after I had entered, while they would be alone still waiting to go in.

You may not believe me, but I felt completely gutted for them. It was the very fact they were so status obsessed that made it so cruel. I was thinking about what Tim was saying to them and how they would react. It seemed terribly cruel that they had not been warned until the very moment before they were due to meet the Queen. I was so worried for them that I really had less than half my mind on exchanging pleasantries with the Queen, who was very pleasant, as always.

If you refused honours, as I always did, you got compensated by getting a slightly better present. In Warsaw I was given a silver Armada dish, which is useful for keeping your Armada in. In Accra I was given a small piece of furniture made with exquisite craftsmanship by Viscount Linley. Shelving my doubts about the patronage aspect of that (should the Queen be purchasing with public money official gifts made by her cousin?) I staggered out holding rather a large red box, leaving through the opposite side of the room to that I had entered. Outside the door I joined the happy throng of people clutching their presents and minor medals. Mike Nithavrianakis and Brian Cope were Ian Mackley’s friends, and they were waiting eagerly for him. “Here’s Craig” said Mike, “Now it’s only Sir Ian and Lady Sarah!” “No, it’s not, Mike”, I said, “He’s not getting a K” “What! You’re kidding!” It had suddenly fallen very silent. “Ian’s not getting a K, he’s only getting a CVO.” “Oh, that’s terrible.” We waited now in silence. Very quickly the door opened again, and the Mackleys came out, Ian with a frozen grin, Sarah a hysterical one beneath the white large-brimmed hat that suddenly looked so ridiculous. There was a smattering of applause, and Sarah fell to hugging everyone, even me. We all congratulated Ian on his CVO, and nobody ever mentioned that there had been any possibility of a knighthood, then or ever.

Personally I don’t understand why anyone accepts honours when there is so much more cachet in refusing them.

#prince phillip #prince phillip death #prince phillip is dead #craig murray #ghana

[reflectingchaos]

okay,  I think I will bring Legolas back as a low activity muse,  just because I do really love him when I get in a mood for him.  so this will be a headcanon of sorts,  but it’s only going to tackle the disputes over the character and settling where I stand from the get-go.

age. his age is a vague area since Tolkien never specifically stated it in his works.  most adaptations go with the younger side where he is no younger than 500 and no older than 800.  however,  a fair amount of evidence does offer some ground to him being far older than that,  and that is the route I am going with.  a favored example is when Legolas is in Fangorn Forest with Aragorn and Gimli,  and he calls them children and makes a comment about feeling young.  the quote is this:  “It [the forest] is old,  very old,”  said the Elf.  “So old that almost I feel young again,  as I have not felt since I journeyed with you children.  It is old and full of memory.  I could have been happy here,  if I had come in days of peace.”  these feel like the reflections of an elf that has seen a decent amount of life in Middle Earth.  furthermore,  he comments about watching oaks grow:  “These are the strangest trees that I ever saw,” [Legolas] said;  “and I have seen many an oak grow from acorn to ruinous age.  I wish that there were leisure now to walk among them:  they have voices,  and in time I might come to understand their thought.”  so that hints at quite an age range.  and lastly,  there is strong indication that he was almost certainly born prior to the Third Age,  as many birth dates in the Third Age are given even for minor characters,  and could even have been born in the First Age.  so while I need to reevaluate some events and my own headcanons before I know precisely how old I want him to be yet,  he will certainly be older than 800.

hair color. another famous dispute,  most fans assume that Legolas is blonde because his father’s hair was blonde,  and because Peter Jackson made him blonde for the film.  and,  of course,  we all know the quote that many ‘dark-haired legolas’ fans use,  when Tolkien describes his head as ‘dark’ in a scene that happens at night,  there is debate on whether Tolkien was saying his hair was black or whether it appeared dark in the nighttime.  but I mean,  come on.  “His head was dark,  crowned with sharp white stars that glittered in the black pools of the sky behind.”  this line just screams dark hair to me,  and I simply do not see how anyone else views it otherwise.  that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  but also in addition to that,  I’m using genetics to my advantage.  we know nothing about his mother,  and we know that Thranduil had blonde hair despite being Sindar.  common concept says that Oropher had blonde hair,  but the truth is that Tolkien never states as far as I know,  so it is possible for Oropher to have been dark-haired.  the Sindar commonly had dark-coloured hair,  and I feel the lighter shade of hair color comes from the Silvan elves.  going on with this,  despite both being called Sindar,  it is possible for both Thranduil and Oropher to have Silvan blood also,  which would contribute to their lighter hair.  there is every possibility that Legolas’ mother had dark hair,  from which he inherited the color.  that’s sort of the route I’m going with,  that both light and dark hair appear in the Mirkwood elves,  and therefore,  Thranduil is blonde,  his wife was dark-haired,  and resulted in Legolas sharing his mother’s hair.  I like to imagine it as dark brown,  not black.

birth order. this is a slightly less-known,  perhaps less cared about,  dispute.  but it’s often a given that the Mirkwood prince was an only child,  and while the concept is attractive,  I've chosen not to roll with it.  what I will be going with is that Legolas is the eldest,  but has a tendency to act the youngest.  he has a young spirit that he has managed to maintain,  which causes people to think he is younger than he is.  but once in awhile his true age peers through.  he will have a younger brother,  one whom I think he may relinquish his birthright to.  there was an instance among the kings of men that the eldest did not want the throne and let the younger have it,  and so I like the idea of Legolas having no desire for his father’s throne and letting his brother have it,  freeing him to do the things that he goes on to do,  despite being his father’s firstborn son.

so that was that,  just three little disputes,  but they make up major aspects of the character and so I wanted to be able to set that down since I’ve had the urge to try and write and characterize him.  say hello to my dark-haired,  obnoxiously cheerful,  old fart of a son.

#( about / legolas. )

[descriptive-tickles]

Old post #3: Don’t Blink

So today I wanted to share one of my earliest tickle stories from way back when I was simply an onlooker of the tickle community.. if you have seen my old Star Trek post, you’ll know I’m a huge Sci-Fi geek and the theme continues with this story as I am also a Doctor Who fan.

Now, there was a David Tennant episode called Don’t Blink and concerned the weeping angels.. This story is dedicated to them and you dear reader. There is also a part 2 and part 3 to this story. So if you would like to see them, please let me know and I’ll get those posted soon 😀

————————————————

It waits patiently for it's opportunity. Spotting you from a distance as you walked by, completely unaware of the devilish intents this creature has.

You go about your daily life, you go to work, you go to the shops.. everywhere you go, the angel blends in without raising an eyebrow picking it's moments to move, never letting you out of it's sight.

On your way home, you take a detour through your local park. It's quite a pleasant evening with a light breeze so you don't mind spending a little extra time in the sun. You start to feel uneasy now, and turn suddenly. You could have swore there was no angel statue in this park. You've been through it so many times, surely you would have seen it. Naturally, intrigue has grasped you, so you begin to walk towards it.

Of course, you haven't had the warnings, so blinking is but second nature. Strange, it seems that it's gotten closer... no, it must be your imagination... But then it happens again, you were sure it was on he other side of the path just a split second ago.

It's now that you begin to feel that something isn't right, your heartbeat increases and your legs begin to wobble. You turn your back on the angel and that's the worst thing you could have done.

You don't want to look back, but you have to know if it wasn't your imagination. Turning slowly, out of the corner of your eye, you see it but 10 feet away from you. You stare towards the cold stonework, you wonder how it could be moving and by now, night have firmly taken over. You've lost track of time and the park security have closed the gates! You scream for anyone to help you out but no help.. Looks like it's you and the angel now.

In the center of the park, there happens to be a small shack, it used to be the old security hut but it's at least shelter as the night grows bitter. Maybe there's a phone inside and let's face it, you want as much distance between yourself and that angel as possible.

You run for the shack, looking back and the stone that haunts your mind. You see that it's moved from place to place the further you've ran as you reach the building, shutting the door firmly.

No phone to call, and your mobile has no service. So you make yourself as comfortable as possible. You can hear, the thud of an object moving outside the shack, the wing slams against the outside of the building. You sit in the corner hoping that the night will soon pass. You hold your head down against your chest, you can't bare to look up.

But you do, and right in front of you is a window.. and there, on the other side, the cold expression of the angel staring back. It knows your alone, and there's no here but you. You place your head back down, as you hear the shack door creek open. No, no, it can't be.. oh but it is, before you can look up though.. the room goes dark, this angel wants you to be permanently blinded, using it's speed to it's advantage, blindfolding you before you even saw it in the shack with you.

But now, the angel can move freely, you feel yourself restrained. The cold stone on your skin makes you shiver. You plead and beg for freedom but this angel only wants laughter.. You feel your t-shirt begin to move, exposing your tummy. The shack lets a cold breeze in as it strikes across your skin met shortly by a soft, fluffy object. On it's travels through the park, the devilish creature found a feather with the fullest intentions on using it for it's own ticklish purpose.

It flutters across your tummy, from one side to the other, not stopping for an instant as you find your laughter pouring out of you.

This pleases the angel, making it want more, it flutters into your bellybutton for just a moment, the angel instantly recognising the change in laughter. It wants to explore this further, the feather plunging inside your navel, spinning inside relentlessly. You buck and scream but no escape is forthcoming for you this night.

With you blinded, the angel is free to do as it wants.. You feel your shoes and socks being playfully removed as your bare sole meets the cold stone for the first time.

Once more, the feather is the primary weapon, long, flowing strokes tease and tickle your poor defenseless sole as you are unable to escape the strong hold. But the angel isn't done with you yet, your wriggling toes have definitely caught it's attention, the feather finding it's way to just beneath them. The creature drags the feather along those toes, the individual fibers finding their way between your toes. The more you flex them, the more it tickles.

And worst of all, you're time with the angel has just begun, it has all night with you, uninterrupted until morning.. sleep tight ;)

I think the morale of this little tale is always watch your back, because you never know if the angels are coming for you next! Using their abilities for pure tickling torture, so, I'll leave you with that thought!

#tickle #ticklish #tickling #tickled #scifitickle #doctorwhotickle #doctorwhotickling

[bucksbisexual]

okay since im rewatching 2gether, might as well make my reaction public lol

tine trying to be a supportive boyfriend by asking wat if something is troublig and wat’s himbo self being like “nah fam im good” god i love this dumbass

also tine not knowing how to talk about his feelings is so relatable help

honestly i would’ve LOVED to see sarawat at least one (1) question

tine’s smile while wat drinks..... Sir I Am In Love With You

also his blush..... Sir I Am More In Love With You Than I Was Before

“is the lyric about smile or happiness?” “don’t cheat” wat saw through his bullshit right there KSJFHKS

i wonder what’s in those glasses because it doesn’t quite look like coke but it obviously isn’t beer,,,,

ohhhhh “a friend from high school” ... explains tine’s reaction we see in the teaser when he introduces pam as his highschool friend

also explains why tine thought sarawat made that video for her instead of him. wat is in his high school clothes and tine probably thought it was before he saw him (when in fact it was probably recorded the same day lmao sarawat hopeless romantic)

tine: one more game! [spins the coin and supposedly falls on heads] wat!

sarawat: no one can talk to me if i fall asleep

i’m trying not to look at bright’s jiggly butt why is ass so fat fOR

it doesnt add the points here if i dont write something else so intro time yeet

yknow what . we need more earn and more pear in these two last episodes . i need my wlw rep and i need it Now

“personal space is important even for couples” still cant believe man was the owner of their braincell in this scene

tine giving all of type’s info away to wat so wat can give it to man who tine knows will use to pester him until he becomes his boyfriend...... say it with me: tine mantype shipper

“how did you know?” “i prayed to god” literally the funniest part ever

manboss: im not going good luck wat: you’re so full of bullshit

GREEN <3

i will just say that pink is tine’s best colour. i need him in every soft pink thing u can find. it accentuates his skin colour so perfectly and we are Here for it honeyyyy

MIL SHUT THE FUCKUP

sarawat being a savage (rachet booty nasty) we stan

bro get over him oh my god he’s taken and happy with wat LEAVEEEEEE

and man pestering type begins Now ksjfh

i’m like 100000000% sure that the only thing in that whole backpack is a pencil and half of an eraser

im also sure type saw him buy the book since u literally can see him from where man and that girl are and

hold up the waiter looks like a guy from whyru,,,,,,,,,,

i need someone to write a fic about tine being an astronomy lover and wat falling in love with him because of the joy in his eyes when he talks about the stars and interesting facts about the universe and new discoveries of galaxies and other things that wat doesnt really care about but he listens to either way because he’s too in love to shut off his brain

okay back to the episode sorry i just really had to say this

wat really said “don’t take advantage of me when i’m sleeping” when they haven’t even kissed.......... no words, completely speechless

tine probably thought he was being real sneaky right there lmao boy he fell asleep 2 seconds ago

god green really appears for 2 seconds and yet he steals the show KSFJHKFJFS he really was about to beat the person in front of him’s ass for not walking faster im crying i love him

BITCH SHUT UP AND LEAVE THEM ALONE STOP TRYING TO BE A HOMEWRECKER

wat looks so offended by his offer it’s so funny jhfksjhgj still MIL GET THE FUCK OUT

them running around is so funny when u know they had to do that like 20 times and were tired as fuck KSJFHKSHFS

WAT YOU SMOOTH FUCKER i love u

omg the bracelet truly isnt there at the start of the scene :-(

“nuisance tree” lemme just cry a bit

the music stopping here......... they truly played with our feelings there huh

WAT YOU SMOOTH FUCKER 2

the reactions are so kdrama outro i cant breathe KJHFJSFKJS

GET THE FUCK OUTTTTTTTTTTT

“well, you left him” IM GOING TO STEP ON YOU

bracelet where r u :-(

“it was here a second ago” it wasn’t im an obsessed bitch and noticed just as the scene there started

he looks so worried:-( tine baby

“i can make you a new one” “but i want the old one” why do i feel like that has more than one meaning,,,

half of the times wat touches tine’s head his hands are dirty as fuck lmaoooooo

is- is someone wearing a marihuana dress??????

manbosss again and he has a book

type is the teepakorn brother that can lie and will lie meanwhile tine can’t lie for a living

I LOVE THIS GUY GIVE ME HIS SELF CONFIDENCE

dim really made up a whole spirit just for wat to be with tine lmao i cant breathe (unless the pine tree spirit is an actual thing and he just used it for this specific thing lmao)

“that senior is me” “and who did you go with?” “that was a long time ago” “it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me” “green, drop it!” i love them KSFJHFSJHF

green and wats faces i cant bREATHE these are the faces of people who know this is all fake

BRO WAT WASNT EVEN THAT SLICK WITH THE PAPER IN HIS HAND SJKHSFHHKFS

my guess is that he had two papers that were the same number just incase they didnt get the same number but then somehow mf MIL had to come in and ruin it

i dont know who chose to make bright wear this much brown but it honestly fits him so well

coffee for his soon to be boyfie

man: loving u is kind of bothering? type: o_o man

he’s still reading the book kjshfsf WAIT HES SO CUTE

“you gotta miss me if i don’t show up one day” “just back off. i’m leaving. do not follow me. give me some time to miss you” okay tsundere ass bitch

type’s so rich he’d rather spend money on getting his tire fixed than get it fixed by man for free i hate rich people

he’s also too rich to care to check if his doors were locked i-

“for me?” “do you see anyone else?” bitch ass tsundere

type: smiles, realises he just did that, eyes cutely go o_o

type looks so cute in that scene for no reason im going to eat ur cheeks if u dont stop being a cutie

aaaaaand of course theyre not paired up

dude of course he is youre creepy and also trying to break his relationship apart only because u dont have the decency to see that you dont have a place in his heart whatsoever

dim honey........ jskhsjf

tine’s hair....... PLEASE I NEED TO TOUCH IT IT LOOKS SO FLUFFY

“the spirit doesnt like it when you pray with your eyes opened” did literally no one notice how nonsense that was? KSFJHSJ

GREEN U SCARED THE BABY WHY WOULD U DRESS LIKE THAT

he looks so cute im gonna cry like actually cry

weak ass blankets they gave them i swear

if u cuddled then u wouldnt have been cold but noooooo ur big puppy boyfriend has trust issues

baby:-((((((((((( i will cover u with a blanket and give u lots of kithes and hugs

tine having his phone die at an important moment and also having no sense of direction whatsoever is so relatable lmaooooo

thank god for the rain because otherwise sarawat wouldnt have ran the way tine actually went lmao i wouldve beaten dims ass if mil was the one who found him

this scene hurts so much:-(( his throwing the grass like that in complete defeat??????? the flashback to him saying that bad things seem to happen to them lately makes my heart break

the soft touches:-((((( please im gonna Cry

dnotsaysorrydontsaysorrydonsaysorrydontsayHE SAID SORRY FFS

baby :’((((((

“i prayed for something but i havent redeemed that prayer yet” “what did you ask for?” “it’s if i got to see you again, i would show you the video i made. it’s the song your smile you are so curious about” BITCHHHHHHHHH

HES GONNA SHOW ITTTTTT YES I LOVE HOPELESS ROMANTIC HIGHSCHOOLER SARAWAT

he’s all shy i cant breathe he cant even look at the screen skjfhksh

oh so it was on the same day sksjhj forgot about that

I CRY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

tine is all blushy im gonna sob i love these two

im trying not to scream and tines reaction to wat telling him he went to every scrubb concert just to look for him

ITS NOT GONNA GET STUCK ON THE VIDEO BABY HE WILL LIKE U BACK IN A YEAR!!!!!!

“i like you” “yeah. i know. i like you too” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM LITERALLY REWATCHINNG BUT I STILL JUST SCREECHED AT THAT I LOVE THIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

their smiles after he said it tho.......... my heart hURTS

wat: the wish only drew us to cross paths again. us being together is because of something else, tine: what then? wat: shout out to my homies for being there for me since day one i love u bros

THE FLASHBACK AAAAAAAA I FOUND HIM YES U DID BABYYYYYY

boss’s whistle after he tells them that he only said he would kiss him until he dropped lmaoooooo

“his name is tine. [with the softest voice ever] what a cute name”

manboss looking at each other like this bitch is so gone for this random dude but we’re gonna support him because we’re the only friends he has

wat was probably wishing the pool had water in it so he could throw both of them into it at that moment KJSFHJSFHF

“he’s the one i like” “shiiiiiit” same dim, same

fan dee nAAAAAA

his ass was so gone he was gonna make his ig username lovetine i literally cant believe him

boss having the braincell in this scene i love it

“but earn has a boyfriend” LIES. SO MANY LIES. ITS A GIRL. SHES A WHOLE LESBIAN.

boss once again being the owner of the braincell...... im starting to think he owns it half of the time

“you get it now? us being together is not a coincidence. it’s because of us” WAT YOU SMOOTH FUCKER 3

wait,,,,, tine’s little head tilt,,,,,,, SIR I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU

the stars!!!!!!!!! theyre there!!!!!!

“i think nothing bad is going to happen anymore” honey you got a big storm coming

it ended :’(((((( my beautiful boys i love this episode and drama so much i swear

lets watch the next episode teaser

i dont think tine is gonna lsiten to pam saying that but if he does,,, baby pls dont overthink okay he loves u and wont leave u for anyone in the world

phukong dont come back to him he knows that u like him and will play with ur feelings

type is gonna have to choose between im guessing either a boy interested in him from work or man and im gonna vote for him going with man lets hope i win

WHAT IS WRNOG WITH U BRO GET OUT HES HIS BOYFRIEND OF COURSE HES GOING TO CARE AND WORRY YOURE JSUT A CREEP FOLLOWING HIM AROUND HOPING THAT THEIR RELATIONSHIP ENDS SO U CAN SNEAK IN UGH

“is pam your first love?” WHY DID U END THE TEASER THERE AAAAAAA BITCH

im so glad that the episode comes out today because i Need to know more

okay thats it if anyone read all of this first of all sorry kjshkfj and second of all thank u ,, u didnt have to but u did and ily for that okay bye

#2gether #2gether the series #2gether ep11 #2gether reaction #svt-district posts

[janaikam]

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You - Heroics

Day 2 of @luxyweek is here!

Part 1

Read on AO3

XY groaned as his XY bobblehead alarm clock blasted Paris, his latest single. Stretching his arm out, he attempted to turn it off, but he kept missing the bobblehead’s snooze button on its hair.

XY let out a sigh as he sat up on his bed, shutting off the alarm and looking at the time. 8:30.

He couldn’t think of any reason why he would set his alarm to such an early hour. Especially since it was a Saturday. It made no sense to him.

As his mind slowly became more awake, he remembered the blue-haired delivery boy from yesterday and how XY wanted to crash his charity concert today. It was something he didn’t want to miss cause he didn’t know when he would see the blue-haired wannabe again.

The concert was at 9:00, and if he wanted to have a chance to see Luka, he would have to try and get there early. Which meant XY needed to leave for Place des Vogues now. Jumping out of bed and into the bathroom, XY quickly threw on his signature outfit and gelled up his hair into its signature coif. Double checking that he looked presentable, XY grinned and finger gunned at his reflection.

It was gonna be a great day, he could feel it.

Satisfied with how he looked, XY walked out of his room and towards the elevator. The hallway was unusually quiet, causing him to tiptoe down the rest of the way. If people were being quiet then there had to be a good reason. Maybe there was a ghost, or maybe there was an axe murderer on the loose.

All he knew is that he wanted out of the hallway and fast. Thankfully, the elevator was there when he pressed the down button. The doors opened, revealing his father.

Great, someone he did NOT want to deal with this early in the morning.

“XY! My boy!” his father said as XY joined him on the elevator. Bob Roth put his arm around XY’s shoulder and pulled him close. “I have some amazing plans for your career. We’re gonna hit the studio so it looks like you’re making music to shoo away those nasty rumors, and then we’ll find some interviews for you to do. It’s gonna be great publicity!”

XY nodded. “That sounds gucci. But I’m actually going to see some bands perform in the park today. Hopefully, I’ll find some inspiration.” He winked for emphasis. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but who knew what his little trip might bring him.

“Great! We’ll get on this publicity stuff some other time! Have fun finding ‘inspiration’.” The elevator doors opened, revealing the lobby of Le Grand Paris. “Take some good videos!”

XY shook off the weird feeling that he always felt after having a conversation with his dad and continued his walk to the park. The walk itself wasn’t very long, but finding the place where they were having the concert took a while.

It turned out that they rented out a small corner of the park and had formed a makeshift gate around the tiny performance area.

There were two girls manning the gate entrance. A light-skinned girl with bluish looking hair and a darker-skinned girl with red ombre colored hair. They appeared to be collecting money from people as they walked in. XY didn’t really understand why, but charity concerts were weird.

XY checked his jacket pocket for any cash he had on him. While the two girls would likely let him in without any problem, it would probably be best if he didn’t cause a scene. He didn’t know what paparazzi would be around.

Perhaps they might think he was being generous by giving the girls money.

He found a wad of cash in his pocket that looked to be about 420 U.S. dollars. He guessed that it was from his last tour in the United States. It didn’t really matter because it was still a lot of money, and those girls would appreciate it anyways.

As he got closer, XY noticed that their faces seemed to become a bit more closed off once they noticed him approaching. Assuming they were just nervous fans, he strode right up to them and dropped the wad of cash on the table. The girls were frozen, clearly not having expected the donation. XY smiled, proud of himself. Those girls would totally buy his next album.

“Keep the change,” he told them, winking.

He made his way to the front of the stage to try and get backstage, but the second he saw the large bodyguard at the backstage entrance, XY turned back to the crowd gathering around the stage.

He wasn’t ready to confront a bodyguard after his last encounter.

Pushing his way to the front of the stage, XY stole a spot right near the front so he would have a great spot to watch the band. He barely had any time to question why he would want a spot near the front before the band came out a minute later.

A girl in all pink walked up to the microphone set up at the front of the stage while the rest got settled in their positions. XY spotted Luka standing to the right of the pink girl.

“Thank you all for showing up today! It means so much to us and the animals at the shelter!” the girl said. “We have a few songs to sing for you today so-”

An obnoxious cackling from above interrupted whatever the girl was going to say. Looking up to where the cackling was coming from, XY saw that a brightly colored woman was floating in the sky.

Her hair was moving in all different directions. She had a belt of hair sprays around her waist and a long flowy cape behind her. The woman’s face seemed to be angry, and XY wondered what the source of her anger was. He kinda felt bad for whoever it was.

“THERE YOU ARE YOU SELF LOVING PRICK!!! YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HAIR PRODUCTS FOR THE LAST TIME!!!” the floating woman yelled, pointing straight towards him. She reached for one of the many cans around her waist and aimed it straight at him.

At this point, most of the crowd around him had run away, too scared to be associated with the rock star. Jerks.

Instead of running away like everyone else, XY simply moved closer to the front of the stage, ignoring the akuma’s rant. He wanted to see a concert, and an akuma wasn’t going to stop him.

Honestly if XY got hit, then it would be the heroes’ fault for not saving him. If they wouldn’t do their jobs then who would?

Right as he got to the front of the stage, Luka dived straight on top of him. Barely a second later there was a blast right where XY had been standing.

He belatedly realized that Luka had acted as a ‘hero’ and saved him. XY crossed his arms in frustration. He didn’t need some wannabe hero risking his life to try and save him. XY could risk his own life all on his own. Luka had no reason to try and save him.

XY huffed as Luka dragged him up off the ground and out of the park. He followed only because he wanted to give the wannabe a piece of his mind.

Luka dragged him towards some alleyway behind a group of buildings outside the park. The akuma was still following them, landing hits on anyone who had the misfortune of being in her path.

The people who were hit turned into puffs of colored air. Based on the smell of the air, XY could tell that it was hairspray and not good hairspray at that.

The alleyway twisted around and they got pretty far, but unfortunately, it led to a dead end. Luka turned back towards the path they came down, only to stop in his tracks as the akuma appeared, blocking their path.

“Finally, I have you right where I want you,” the akuma said. She stepped closer to the two of them, and Luka pushed XY behind him, standing protectively in front of XY.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me.”

The akuma chuckled. “Aw, you need your little boyfriend to save you,” she teased. “In that case, I guess I’ll just have to get you both.”

A yo-yo shot out from a nearby roof, wrapping itself around the akuma’s wrist effectively stopping her from spraying her can. “Nice try Hairspray!”

On the roof, Ladybug had a tight grip on her yo-yo as Chat Noir landed right next to her, examining the situation. “Looks like someone is having a bad hair day.”

Everyone in the alley, including the akuma, groaned at the pun. It was really bad, what was Chat Noir even thinking?

A purple butterfly flashed across the akuma’s face and quickly disappeared. With a new determination, Hairspray yanked on Ladybug’s yo-yo, causing her to fall into the alley.

Taking advantage of Ladybug’s now vulnerable state, Hairspray whipped out her cans and started shooting at her. Ladybug quickly recovered and used her yo-yo as a shield to protect XY and Luka.

Chat Noir dropped down behind XY, startling him. “Grab onto me. I’m gonna get you two to safety.”

Luka moved and grabbed onto one of Chat’s arms. Chat reached out his other arm to XY, and the singer reluctantly took it. Why did everybody have the need to save him today?

Though he had expected it, XY couldn’t help but scream when Chat Noir shot the three of them up into the air. Chat proceeded to jump across multiple roofs until they landed in an abandoned street.

“I’m never letting you save me again. I was in more danger than in that alley! I could have died!!” XY exclaimed, shooting his arms in the air.

Luka and Chat Noir shared a glance, almost as if they were communicating something through their eyes.

“You’re right. Jumping across the roofs was not safe. And you know you’re still not safe here.” Chat looked around for a second and spotted what he was looking for. Chat motioned for XY to follow. “Take this special portal, and you’ll immediately be transported to the safest place in Paris.”

Chat lifted up a sewer cover for XY to enter. “That looks like it goes to the sewers.”

“No, no, no, this is a special portal. My miraculous magic has transformed this sewer into a portal. All you have to do is go through it,” Chat reassured, a friendly smile on his face.

XY shrugged, believing the hero because why would he lie? He started his climb into the portal only to lose his grip and fall straight into sewer water.

“HEY!! THIS IS JUST A SEWER!!!”

#luxyweek2k20 #luka #xy #chat noir #marinette #alya #my writing #my fic #heroics #i cant help falling in love with you

[ngame989]

“Brew” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 6

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: After close to a year on Earthni, Tom's been dragged back into the princely life, and it's a lot less exciting than he'd expected. With Star and Marco away on urgent business, can Janna help him turn a boring errand into a fun adventure?

Comic Page

Masterpost

This one’s a nice change of pace from the last two chapters, I think. TGG’s still a Starco-focused work, expect these to be the exception not the norm, but I think it’s important to strike a balance. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“No results.” Huh? Three eyes narrowed at the screen in frustration. Maybe a different search term? “No results.” Alright Tom, no big deal, man. Maybe you just spelled something wrong. Annnnnd… there. “No results.” How could there be nothing?

Tom leaned back in the chair and sighed, exercising restraint over the little anger demons inside him as he’d trained himself to do. In the past he’d needed a physical bunny to pet if he wanted even a hope of keeping his cool, but at this point suppressing the urge was such reflex that most would think he just had a regular Mewman quick temper and nothing more in all but the most extreme of conditions, but he was getting pretty close to that point now. Grandpa Relicor’s study had everything, or so he thought, but this was the first time he could ever remember being here where it come up short. He’d checked every shelf, everything he could think in the computer, had even fireblasted a few of the shelves just to see if there were any hidden switches or anything. Even Relicor had been at a loss and had been screeching in distress on the floor for long enough that Tom’s brain had graciously tuned it out. What could be so important about this book his mom needed? He hadn’t even had time to change his casual graphic tee from a cartoon he liked, simply tossing his maroon jacket over it before heading out at his mother’s behest. He wasn’t one to say no to her, but it had been hours since he’d shown up here and he was no closer to figuring this out than he had been this morning.

Suddenly his phone buzzed, displaying the familiar beaming face of his ex-girlfriend close up to the camera. A toothy grin erupted as he picked it up, holding the phone up for a video feed. “Heya, Starship.”

“Hey, Tom!” Star beamed into the camera. “How’s it hanging? Long time no see. So,” she rambled out in one breath, “I may have a teensie weensie wittle problem.” She backed up to reveal her hair in complete disarray, sans horns, and black marks all over her light blue dress. Before Tom could even ask the question, her other hand held up charred fragments of her headband. “Someone still hasn’t learned how to use an Earth oven properly!” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Look, gurl, I said I was like, so sorry! All the Cloud Kingdom kitchens are powered by glitter and horn blasts, like that’s just how ovens are supposed to be, that is all I am saying here,” Ponyhead’s indignant voice chimed in from behind, punctuated by a snort.

“Anyway, we just finished putting out the fires and I need a new headband and their website says they’re almost out of stock and I’ve wanted to show Marco around the Underworld for a while and- wait, is that screeching in the background? Where are you?”

Tom shuffled away from the elder demon still writhing on the floor and cleared his throat. “Just in Grandpa’s study trying to find something for my mom, she really wants it today. I don’t know if I can go- but I can still send the carriage for you guys, if you want.”

“Do you need help with that?” Marco inquired as he peeked his head into the frame, casually wrapping an arm around Star.

“Naaaah, no big deal,” Tom shrugged. “You two should go, though! I can just fly over whenever I finish this.”

Star and Marco looked at each other hesitantly. “Alright,” she said. “Carriage to our house in maybe five minutes?” A fire alarm went off behind her followed by a scream from Ponyhead and an even girlier one from Marco. “Maybe ten,” Star sighed, burying her face in her free hand.

“You got it,” Tom chuckled.

“OK, bye!” Star said with relief before hanging up. He rolled his shoulders from inside his jacket and ran his hands through his hair before stepping into the main foyer, taking advantage of the space to summon the carriage and its horses, the incantations coming effortlessly to him. Demons had been fortunate enough to retain their powers on Earthni, but the location underground and the relative lack of portaling methods available left them even more isolated than previously. While most of the other kingdoms had dissolved or integrated into a loose coalition of government covering all of the Echo Creek area, the Underworld had been content to stay completely under the banner of Lord and Lady Lucitor, and Tom found himself pitching in more and more in his role as Prince. In truth, he would have appreciated the company his friends were offering, but he knew how much it had meant to Star to be able to give this life up, and he didn’t want to drag her - either of them, really, considering Marco had earned an official title on Mewni himself - back into the boring thick of regal errands. Was Prince Thomas Draconius Lucitor really going to let some stuffy old book collection get the best of him? Hah, as if.

With a flick of his wrist, the half-demon shuttled the carriage to the surface in a pillar of flame, barely looking and instead pulling out his new phone. He was still getting the hang of the new and improved Reflectacorp’s Earth tech integration, but he’d at least learned how to open yesterday’s text conversation thread from its new message notification.

Janna: anti-gravity potion attempt 4 failed. affected bottle glass itself and launched into sky. note to self: work under roof. star and marco’s suggestions didnt work either. not all bad though, it went towards cloud kingdom lol

Tom: careful, don’t hit pony’s ego and make it fly even higher ·;) btw pony + starco are going shopping in underworld soon. im stuck working for mom though.

Janna: stores r lame. even in underworld. and srsly dude u gotta stop using starfans dumb name for them. otoh it bugs them so actually nvm go 4 it

Tom: it was mine first >·:( it saves letters when they’re together!

Janna: which is always

Tom: exactly. speaking of which, they’re here ttyl

Star stepped out of the carriage in a nice white polka dotted green dress, quickly followed by Marco, the pair’s fingers remaining intertwined until they gave him a hello hug, and Tom honestly wasn’t sure they’d stopped holding hands even then. Ponyhead burst out a moment later with her phone floating in front of her pointed at herself, and she was in the middle of a monologue to no one in particular.

“-so yeah anyway as you all can see we have now arrived in the Underwoooorld. So yeah this is, like, basically the best place on all of Earthni to go shopping as I’ll be showing you today. Oh yeah, I guess some demon boys live here too. Oh my goodness, say hello you guuuys,” she rolled her eyes as she butted in between Star and Tom, side-eyeing him for a split second before grinning back into the camera. After all this time Pony still hadn’t dropped the passive aggression over his and Star’s messy history; Tom had to admit it was a bit understandable, but did she really have to keep it up in such an annoying way? He rolled his eyes - it was Ponyhead he was thinking about here. “OK, the Ponyhead Experience will be taking a short break. Tune back in soon! Love y’all, buhbye!” She snapped the phone shut and caught it with her tongue. “Ugh, why do all of my vlogs with you dorks get like ten times as many viewers? Tom, you were in the shot for like three seconds and do you know what happened? 2000 more people tuned in! What the heck! It’s like, just because I have one less horn and one less eye I’m not exciting to you? But I can’t stay mad at my adooooring fans.”

“Must be the Lucitor charm.” He flashed a toothy smile and a pair of finger guns at her, accidentally flinging his phone across the room in the process. “Totally planned,” he blurted out with a much less authentic grin. Marco chuckled and picked it up, handing it back and patting him mock-sympathetically on the shoulder while holding back a smirk.

Star giggled but tapped her foot impatiently, looking around the room nervously. “OK, great catching up, but on the way here I checked the website and the headband shop is almost out of stock! We have to go, now! Let’s move it, people! Tom, can we borrow the carriage for the day?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine by me.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou, you’re the best!”

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Marco inquired again.

“You heard the girl, Marco, my audience wants to see us get our shop on!”

Tom blew a raspberry, pushing them towards the carriage. “Relax, it’s nothing. I’m practically done already! Tooootally almost done!”

Marco finally relented, nodding his assent. Star was bouncing up and down so much that she looked ready to launch around the room. He giggled as she wrapped both her arms around his middle and kissed his cheek before hauling him the rest of the way into the carriage. “C’mon boo, mama needs a new pair of horns. Plus we can get whatever you need, too! I saw a few things in the catalog that would look preeeetty good on you,” she sing-songed, walking two fingers up his chest to boop his nose after they plopped down onto the seat together. Ponyhead mimed vomiting at Tom, who silently laughed in response; they were so engrossed with each other that Tom was fairly certain they wouldn’t have noticed even if he’d shouted his laughter, though. He blankly stared at the spot the carriage had been for a few seconds after it exited in a blaze.

“Pretty gross, right?” Tom started and launched a fireball in the direction of the voice, hovering away from the intruder. A split second after, his vision caught up with his instincts and saw Janna in her usual green shirt and beanie and yellow skirt, sans jacket, nonchalantly sidestep the flame. “You do the same thing every time, you really need to work on that,” she chided with her arms crossed and a devious smirk on her face.

He rubbed his temple and gestured at her in sullen disbelief. “How did you-”

“Roof of the carriage.”

“Huh.” An eyebrow up in surprise, studying her expression. “You never usually, you know, answer that.”

She shrugged, kicking a boot into the hard stone floor. “Whatever, guess I’m just bored. Besides, half the reason I do that is to get a rise out of Marco,” she slyly snickered, and Tom couldn’t help but join in. “Alright, demon boy, what adventure are we going on today?”

Tom crossed his arms apprehensively. “Just trying to find a book for my mom, not really much of an adventure.”

“Like I said, dude, I’m bored and shopping is dumb. I don’t mind hanging out here for a study session or whatever, your family’s got great taste in decor.” She picked a skull off the ground and tossed it back and forth between her hands. He grinned back at her, grateful for the company. “So what kind of creepy curses are in this book?”

The pair started walking back into the study as their conversation continued. “Don’t think there are any. It’s called ‘Historia Homewnum’, according to my mom, so it’s probably a history book but that’s all I know.”

“Darn. Demon history’s bound to be pretty cool, though.”

“You’d be surprised how little actually happens down here, it’s just a lot of maintenance. Last month the most important thing I did was a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a new boba cornshake shop, it’s really caught on here since the Cleaving. But man is it good! Marco was right, the little pearls are just so tasty, I like the creamed corn version best.”

“What is it with you and corn, seriously...” Janna shuddered.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He knew he’d gotten distracted thinking about the delicious creamy beverage, but that didn’t seem like an adequate reason to look so horrified, especially coming from Janna. Not able to figure out any other reason she might be disgusted by his comments, he got his thoughts back on track. “Really don’t know why she wants this thing so much. Anyway, I already checked the entire study for it, and the search archives don’t have anything either. Oh well, what can you do, might as well just give up and-”

“Found something,” Janna piped up, somehow already in the computer chair with her feet on the desk.

“Really? How?” he asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“OK, I didn’t actually find the book, but maybe we should check this place out.” He leaned into the screen to see a Mewgle search for ‘how to find weird book in underworld’ on the screen.

“I already tried that, Janna!”

“Yeah, but your antivirus was blocking this link to some place called the ‘Librarinth’.”

Tom slammed his palm into his forehead. “Of course, the Librarinth! How could I not think to look there, that’s where all the oldest books are. Why was it getting blocked?”

She clicked on the link and both recoiled at the sight: an abhorrent patterned background with almost unreadable randomly colored text and low quality cartoon images scattered all around the page. “Yeah, it’s awful,” she said in response to his obvious horror. “Seriously, whoever must made this website must be, like, a thousand years old.”

“Probably , yeah, but why does that have anything to do with-” His eyes widened in realization as he clapped his hands together in contemplation. “Right, humans and their lifespans. Go on.”

“Look.”

She scrolled past the despondent, blurry faces of demons of all shapes and sizes in the staff section until she arrived at the catalog, folding her arms triumphantly. Tom excitedly butted in, typing into the search box and being greeted with a loading wheel. “Uh, Janna? It’s not working.”

“Pfft, yeah, I might actually be dead by the time the search finishes. But that doesn’t matter because they have our book. It’s the header image for the whole catalog.” He squinted and brought his face closer to the monitor, and to his surprise the title was clear as day on the cover of the book, although all the other information was too difficult to make out. “Alright, let’s go. Main page says the Librarinth is on Floor 216.”

With a snap of his fingers, the demon elevator was summoned into a bookshelf much as it had been the day they had dealt with the Blood Moon. Relicor’s shrieking, which had slowed to a whimper since they’d left, resumed in full; fortunately they began descending, which quickly put them out of earshot. Tom awkwardly stretched his arms, unsure what exactly to say. She was his friend, yes, but he was never the best at small talk, and Janna being Janna didn’t make that any easier. After long, messy years of broken hearts and misguided feelings, he finally felt comfortable forging friendships, but even though they got along quite well there was something about Janna that made that vibe a lot less effortless than with Marco or even Star. Thoughts of his other friends reminded him of something. “Uh, by the way… how did you even know about the carriage earlier?”

“A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.”

“Pony was posting about it every 15 seconds,” he guessed, calling Janna’s bluff.

“Touché. Every 10, though,” she coolly responded. “Ha, now she’s just flipping out because Star and Marco have way more likes than her selfies.”

“Figured you’d have him bugged or something,” Tom chuckled as he scooted over to get a look at Janna’s screen, and sure enough there was a picture collage of Star sitting in Marco’s lap with tens of thousands of likes and comments already. They were laughing their butts off at themselves in a mirror in front of them with novelty sunglasses, fake mustaches, goofy props, and even a few absurd full-body costumes; Ponyhead joined the fun for a few but just as often butt in trying to take over the mirror by herself.

“Ew, no, I disabled it all months ago. Boyfriend Tom was already too cutesy for me, and you two just had a little flirty fling. Do you think I’d really want to see or hear whatever Star and Marco have going on? They’re, like, deeply in love, or whatever, and it’s gotten even worse in the last few weeks.”

He murmured in tacit agreement. Now that he thought about it, they had seemed even more affectionate than usual, but he wasn’t too keen on uncovering why that might be. The ding of the elevator saved him from any further speculation, and he and Janna stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, which was empty with cobwebs coating most of the weathered stone walls. Janna looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Anyway, so the Librarinth is basically a combination of a library and a labyrinth-”

“Right, I got that,” she curtly retorted.

“The legends say that some ancient librarian demons wanted to challenge any who sought knowledge, so they hid all the books in a giant maze that only the worthy could navigate. But everyone who made it still decided to organize it thoroughly for some reason, and you still had to check out the books and bring them back and all that.”

She ran a finger over the dust on the front counter, and the surface of the desk sizzled in response, causing her to pull her hand back before poking the bubbles that formed with a curious smile. “So why is it completely empty?”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Weeeeeeell, after a few people went missing or insane, everyone realized it really wasn’t a great way to, you know, run a library. Grandpa actually started collecting books to try and get them away from this place. No one really knows what goes on in there, but as far as I know it’s still maintained even though no one uses it. The kingdom stopped staffing the lobby but they could never just shut it down because anyone who tried, well-”

“Went missing or insane. Sounds cool, I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, you brought me to a wicked hell maze filled with psychotic demon nerds. Maybe there’ll be bottomless pits or a wicked dungeon boss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Mr. Lucitor,” she purred, running a finger up his chest and flicking his nose.

“Haha, very funny. And it’s Prince Lucitor,” he sarcastically chided, poking her arm in response before crossing the room with her following, but he couldn’t help but hide that he was flustered. Seeing Star and Marco’s relationship in the past year had reinforced his already-firm convictions about romance: he wanted someone with whom he could be life partners in all ways, not just handholding and rooftop picnics. Otherwise, what would be the point? He’d made that mistake enough times, and even just a light jab at the notion of him casually flirting struck made him feel self-conscious about that past. Finally his reflection was halted when he found what he sought: a large wrought iron door furnished with ornate demonic symbols and various carvings of mythological creatures dwarfed them both. With a soft, steady flame for light, he brought his hand up and ran it over the rusty engravings. He jumped back with a gasp as the fire spread into the lines of the door, lighting up the patterns on it and causing it to creak as it slowly opened.

“Nice,” Janna muttered in awe before strolling inside, with Tom hesitantly following. She was the most eager of their little group to dive headfirst into the unknown, even more than Star most of the time, but he trusted her gut.

They started walking down the long, cramped hallways, hearing only the sound of their own footsteps on the cold floor. Janna peeked her head into a small doorway that appeared to their left, earning herself an explosive blast to the face and getting knocked onto her butt. Tom slammed the door shut and leaned in to read an inscription next to it. “Incinerator for any books too damaged or damaging for further use. Probably not the right place.”

Janna huffed, brushing herself off and finding scraps of paper among the char. “I can see that. Seriously, what kind of labyrinth labels its doors?”

“Maybe one run by book nerds,” Tom offered, gripping her hand to help her up.

“So it’s just as bad at being a labyrinth as it is a library. Neat. Great adventure.”

Tom pressed on, keeping his focus ahead of them. “Hey, I’m just here to help my mom. You’re the one that said you were fine with anything.”

“Fine, fine. Just saying, I could be working on my potions or something.” She pulled a glass bottle full of purple liquid from her skirt pocket and casually tossed it at a wall. Janna snickered at Tom’s yelp when it shattered, but found herself joining him in backing away when a chunk of stone quickly deteriorated and slammed into the ground at incredible speed. She went over and carefully kicked a pebble, finding it impossible to even budge. “See, this was just a stupid pro-gravity potion. Worthless.”

He leaned against the stable wall opposite the hole, sighing. “I’m sure there has to be something interesting here. What if we, I dunno, make it a competition or something?” His frustration with both the situation and Janna were there, yes, but he still wanted to try and get something fun out of the day.

“Go on,” Janna said, eyes flickering up from the bottle that she was tossing between her hands nonchalantly.

OK, maybe he should have thought further ahead. His arms flailed as he scrambled to come up with an idea. “OK, so, uh, whoever finds the weirdest thing in this place in the next hour wins. Just call them out if you think you found something. Or whoever finds the book, whichever comes first, yeah. Mom still needs it.”

“Momma’s boy. I respect that. You’re on, Tom.” Janna cocked an eyebrow, staring at him for a second before pushing off the wall into a sprint, opening the first door she could find. “Empty. Another empty. Three empties, dammit.”

Tom used his flight to travel more smoothly from door to door on his side of the corridor, but still found himself losing ground as he took the time to read the sign posted by each threshold. The ‘Demonic Studies’ room had a very ornately ghoulish aesthetic, with macabre skeletal models throughout. Definitely something to show Janna on the way out just for the aesthetic, and it’d have been weird for most humans, but it wasn’t any more abnormal than what the two of them were used to as a daily routine. Another room for astronomy had an exquisite planetarium dome, but it turned out to be rather useless as the Underworld did not, in fact, contain any stars since it was underground. There was, however, a plentiful selection of guides to stalactites stocked on the shelves. The next four whole sections were devoted to anger management self-help books, which only made him waste precious seconds cringing at old memories.

His pace picked up as he kept going from door to door finding nothing but normal library fare, although he had to admit it was certainly well-maintained. On any other day he might actually enjoy some of the things here, but today he was on a mission to get out of here so they could actually have fun elsewhere.

‘Bookworms’... now that had potential. What sorts of hybrid creatures could lurk behind the inches of wood? “I think I might have found something!” he shouted, throwing open the door only to receive a harsh shushing. Within were only elderly demons in cozy sweaters reading by candlelight, all now glaring at him with an intensity that reminded him of his mom’s own rare reprimands. “Never mind,” he loud-whispered back out into the hall as he gently closed the door and found Janna in a nearby corridor. “Ugh, why is there nothing interesting here?” Sparks trailed behind him from his mounting anger as he paced.

“Tell me about it, even ‘Wormbooks’ was just a bunch of regular novels, somehow,” she sighed. “I was hoping for a big long chain of open books slithering around on the ground, now there’s a party.” She slumped down against the wall next to the streak of flame he’d left on the ground, idly stamping it out with her boot until Tom sat down beside her.

“Wouldn’t a wormbook be the opposite? A big fat worm in the shape of a book?”

“Nah, it’d totally be a book made of a bunch of little flatworms all working together, duh. Still pretty lame.”

OK, now he knew something was up with her. “Janna, is- is something wrong?”

Her body slouched further down until she was almost horizontal on the cold floor, staring ahead of her like a zombie. “Being weird has just felt so pointless lately. Everything’s weird now, all the time! I’m wasting all my time trying to brew potions when there’s a shop that sells them on every corner. I got so bored that I even passed that same dumb test Marco did and now I’m done with high school, like, for real this time.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s easy if you know who to blackmail.” Tom blinked a few times, not sure why he’d expected anything different. “Everyone else is moving on with their lives, but I’m still feeding the same old possums and picking up the same old tennis balls. The whole point of my routine is that it’s different, it’s me, it’s my Jannanigans or whatever Star calls it, but it’s just not the same. I’m still into all that stuff, and Earthni’s actually really cool, but… ugh.” With that, her head fully sunk to the ground.

Tom brought his palms together over her head, opening and shutting his hands while wiggling his fingers around. “It’s a wormbook,” he said hesitantly, not really sure what he was doing. It was silly amusement, but perhaps that was just what she needed right now. Janna frowned and rolled her eyes, so he snapped at her arm with his hand puppet wormbook a few times.

“Alright, I get it,” she barked out, but her sullen demeanor slowly cracked under the onslaught of frivolity as she sat back up with an unusually ponderous look at him.

“Remember that time you took me bootsledding?” She nodded. “You told me that I needed to find a life outside of Star, and- and it was really great advice. Didn’t mean I still couldn’t like spending time with Star or anything, heck, I still do! But I just needed to get out of that rut of depending on it. Maybe you just need to do that, too. If doing your weirdness by yourself is normal, then adding something normal might be kinda weird.”

“That’s it.” Janna leapt to her feet, looking very suddenly invigorated. “That’s it!”

“Well, uh, glad you liked it. It was nothing, really, just trying to be a good pal-”

“Yeah, yeah, that too,” she waved dismissively, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit scorned. “If weird is normal then normal is weird. We were looking for the craziest things we could find here, but everything that should have been weird was normal, so we should be looking for the most painfully boring room here!” All three of Tom’s eyes blinked a few times as her words sunk in. Could it be…? “Tom, over here!” He hustled over to a particularly plain wooden door. Janna pointed at the plaque on the wall, which was far more faded than the others had been. “Look. ‘Government Records’.”

A burst of energy coursed through Tom’s blood, sparking life in him once more, and he could see the same reflected in Janna’s determined brown eyes. “And the book Mom wanted has something to do with history. Maybe it’s political history! Janna, you might be a genius!”

“Pfft, ‘might’. Now we just gotta…” She grabbed his arm, aiming it at the door, and he looked at her incredulously. “C’mon, dude, who knows what’s behind there. We’re gonna bust in with a demon blast, duh. Pew-pew!”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turning up in a begrudging smile gave away his agreement. The pair aimed at the door and blew it off its hinges before charging in through the smoke.

“I see you two have finally solved the grand riddle of the Librarinth!” A deep, booming voice greeted them from the smoke. “Janna Ordonia, Thomas Lucitor, you certainly took your time. I expected you to book it here much more quickly. No matter, for this room shall be your tome!”

“How do you know my-” Janna stammered.

“Uh, don’t you mean tomb-” Tom started at the same time before realizing the wordplay and groaning in misery. Wait a second… Epic threats, an obvious personality quirk…

“Dungeon boss!” the teens cheered together, glancing back and forth between each other and the remainder of the room in front of them obscured by shadow.

“It is I, the bookkeeper of this place. I guard the most sacred treasure of all… knowledge!” Paper rustled loudly, echoed throughout the cavernous space, far taller and wider than Tom had noticed when they first entered with a massive array of bookshelves many times taller than him in a single row near the back wall. The ground beneath them began to shake and Tom tossed a puff of light in front of him, exposing the wide chasm that had just opened up in the ground, swallowing all the shelving in the room. Neither were prepared for the sight that greeted them: a coiled mass unfurled from the abyss and slithering with purpose along the ground, finally raising itself up to stand at fifteen feet tall, swaying back and forth with enough force to create an artificial wind within the space. A closer look showed that the body was made of some peculiar segments of… books, of all shapes and sizes. The volume at the top of the chain was much larger and far more ornately embossed than the others, and on the blood red surface of the cover Tom could make out a set of eyes. As the picture became more and more clear, he could finally see what they were up against. Now THIS is a bookworm.

“Aren’t libraries supposed to be, like, public and free?” Janna blithely inquired.

“You are correct, child, but perhaps try reporting that to your friend there! The Lucitor family is the sworn enemy of this great Librarinth! That fiend Relicor pilfered our collection for his own use for millennia, and the rest tried to shut this place down for good. But worst of all, in the most egregious display of contempt I have witnessed since the dawn of writing itself… Prince Lucitor and his ilk have amassed twenty-six dollars in unpaid fees!”

The tension in the room nearly evaporated in a heartbeat as Tom and Janna paused momentarily before bursting out into raucous laughter.

“Seriously, dude? I could just, like, repay it.” He fumbled in his pockets for his wallet for a moment before being interrupted once more.

“Do not condescend to me, children! It is far too late to make up for these sins with mere currency. Revenge is my fee most overdue, now prepare to meet… Overdoom! I shall harness the power of the written word to spell your demise!”

Books were hurled from the depths of the crevice en masse. Tom stepped in front of Janna to blast them away, but they had taken on a life of their own and homed in on him, covers flapping in the air like wings. Behind Tom, Janna snatched one out of the air to thwart a flank attack. She grabbed his left arm and pointed it up, tapping his elbow frantically. He spared a glance and saw the paper tornado coalescing, and understood her intention. Demon flames surged out of both hands with Janna calling the shots for the left side and Tom focusing on his right. They used the opportunity to back up to a wall, letting them cover every attack vector but creating a stalemate they were sure to lose in time as the seemingly endless offense droned on. Overdoom for the time being simply floated out of the abyss, glaring harshly at them as more and more papers kept emerging.

“Wait, Tom, look…” Still using his hand, she pointed to a shelf that had fallen at an odd angle and hadn’t collapsed into the abyss. There was a large, torn-up poster on which he could barely make out the word “Historia”.

“That might be it,” he breathed out, starting to feel the burn from minutes of nonstop vigilant defensive demon blasts. Oddly, none of the books in that corner were joining the assault. Almost as if...

“It’s making them magical in the chasm.” Tom’s heart leapt up in his chest at the revelation, hope and adrenaline mixing in his veins to keep him fully alert. But charging in was a suicide mission and they clearly couldn’t win on raw firepower.

“Have you had enough? Are you children yet ready to come scrawling on your hands and knees to a-tome for the sins of your forefathers?” the imposing figure growled, bristling impatiently.

“Did it seriously just use the tome pun again?” Janna griped, running her hands past her eyes and down her cheeks in disgust. “For a word nerd, that’s just awful.”

“Yeah…” Tom absent-mindedly responded. He knew she was right, though. Book, tome, scrawl… even if the creature’s summoning powers were off the charts, and it wielded them with calculated ease, its cocky wordplay taunts left something to be desired. It struck him then: what if they’d been approaching this all wrong? If the battle couldn’t be won by blows, then they had to find another option, and Tom was ready to put his plan into action.

He quickly shook off Janna’s rather tight grip on his arm and stepped forward, mustering up a confident expression masking any fears he still had left. “Nice try, Overdoom. Your words aren’t scaring us. Learn to read the room!”

Its “body” immediately began wiggling violently in the air as it crawled a bit forward towards them. Tom paid careful attention to its back end, which had climbed a few feet out of the ground in the move. “How dare you! Petulant brats!” Literary fire and brimstone rained down upon them with more fury than ever, and the two backed up into a corner which was the best they could do in a room largely devoid of any cover.

“What the hell-” Janna whispered through gritted teeth. Tom wriggled his tail out and waved it in front of Janna’s face momentarily. “Now is not the time to-” She was cut off when a barrage of index cards launched at them with enough force to somehow chip the stone behind them on impact. Tom forcefully nodded his head towards the worm’s tail, waggling his own once again. Her eyes lit up much like his had and she nodded in understanding.

“Come on, is that the best you got? I’ve heard them all before, at least give us something novel!”

Janna stood beside him, and her grimace even managed to spook Tom a bit. “I’d alphabet you couldn’t do better even if you tried!” Not what he would’ve gone with, but hey, if it helped tick Overdoom off then who was he to say no?

“You can talk up a storm all you want, but no matter what volume of air you blow, all I feel is a not-so-rough draft!”

“ENOUGH!” Overdoom’s tail launched out of the chasm faster than either could follow, crossing the room in a heartbeat. Tom shoved Janna out of the way before it wrapped itself around him, dragging him much more slowly towards the abyss. His jacket and jeans mercifully protected the paper edges pressing into him, but it was still a painfully tight squeeze that left him gasping for air. His arms were uselessly pinned inside the embrace as he was dragged headfirst, but their hypothesis had been proven correct as all the books around them had dropped to the ground lifeless.

“Tom!” Janna called out. He strained his head to see she’d removed her beanie and had something purple in her hand that she lobbed at that moment. Through the haze of pain he recognized it as another of her potions. The arc was due to miss until he summoned his energy reserves and redirected it with a weak burst of flame from his boot. Though the glass was durable enough to not melt or shatter, the demonic heat changed the potion into a bubbling olive green milliseconds before it contacted a random segment of the behemoth they were fighting. All at once, its hold on Tom and the rest of its body went limp as it began floating lazily into the air before bouncing off the ceiling a few times like a balloon. Janna ran over and helped Tom up as Overdoom screamed inarticulately from many feet above. They traversed the chaotic mess towards the pile they’d spotted previous. After some digging around, he found ‘Historia Homewnum’ miraculously unscathed and protected by a large, sturdy slab of mahogany that had fallen flat on top of it. “I got it!”

“Cool, potion is wearing off. We need to go.” Janna calmly stated. Twin jets of fire erupted from his feet as he swiftly passed the book to Janna and scooped her up in his arms, carrying them across the room towards the door. After setting Janna down, he hesitated for a moment as she stood in the doorway.

“Do you think I should still pay the late fee? I feel kinda bad and-”

“TODAY MAY HAVE BEEN YOUR VICTORY, BUT TOME-ORROW WILL-”

Tom sighed in resignation with a very unimpressed expression. “OK, yeah, never mind.” And with a quick slam of the door, they were both out scot-free. They didn’t stop running until they arrived back at the elevator. Once inside, they slumped down onto the ground as they began the journey back up to the main surface of the Underworld.

“Woo!” Tom was caught off guard by Janna expressing visible joy, and it was immediately infectious. “Now that’s an adventure. Of course, demon fire is what makes the potions work. Makes a lot more sense. Stupid ink smudge, I burned all those lemons for nothing.” He belly laughed, falling over to the floor and clutching his gut as Janna kicked him in the arm.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it.”

Her foot backed off after one last good hit. “So now you just have to give that book to your mom?”

“Yeah, should only take a minute. Want to come with?”

“Dude, she’s half a story tall and cries lava. I’d be honored. Oh crud, Pony’s current stream title is ‘WHY Y’ALL CARE MORE ABOUT EARTH TURD AND B-FLY THAN ME?!?!’” Janna showed him the notification on her phone. “That can’t be good.”

Tom pulled out his phone and called to see what was up. Pony picked up after only one ring and didn’t even bother with a greeting as she screamed so loudly that he lost hearing for a moment in his right ear. Her voice carried through the elevator car even without being put on speakerphone. “Yo Tom, why do all my Pony Pals just want to watch those two idiots kiss and cuddle? What is up with that? I even gave my fanbase a stupid nickname, they eat that stuff up, so why won’t they looooove meeeeee?” Business as usual with Pony, it seemed. “An-y-way, this whole shopping spree was amaaaazing, I am all kinds of extra fabulous now. B-Fly and Earth Turd took over the stream cuz the viewers, like, wanted a Q&A sesh but I’m only giving them twenty minutes! Hmph!”

“Might as well just make a whole show about them,” Janna chimed in, rolling her eyes a few times for good measure.

“Wait, demon boy, is Janna there? What the heck have you two been getting up to? Don’t tell me you too are getting your freak on too, I could not handle that T.M.I.-”

Yeah, there was nothing more to gain from that conversation. Tom flipped his compact shut, disconnecting the call. Wait, ‘too’? Did she mean- he shuddered involuntarily. You know what, nope, just not going to think about that one.

“So glad I turned off the cameras,” Janna mumbled, curling up into a ball on the floor, clearly not wanting to touch that whole situation either.

He opted to make contact with the other group via Marco instead - why he hadn’t just done that in the first place, he’d never know - and sent a quick text. “Marco wants to get dinner at the Waterfolk Kingdom in, like, an hour and a half. Apparently Star found some earrings she wanted at the last minute, and Pony got arrested for shoplifting three seconds after I hung up.”

Janna cackled in response. “Let’s just meet them there. My jacket got ripped to shreds by the possums last week, might as well get a new one while I’m down here. Been thinking about changing it up. I kinda like that style.” She lifted up his arm and poked at a button on the sleeve of his own.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can show you where I got it.” He stumbled over his words, still caught off guard by this new normal-person-Janna. The elevator dinged and the teens began their trek through the Lucitor castle in search of the queen. “So, the Librarinth... we’re definitely going back there at some point, right?”

“Totally, bet’s still not over. We should do this more often, you’re not so bad a friend.”

“You too, and yeah, we should.” Looking back on the day, it had honestly been one some of the most fun he’d had in a while, despite almost dying at least once. Tom still wasn’t sure what to make of this friendship brewing between them, but if it meant more days like this to look forward to? Maybe he could get used to that.

#jantom #starco #svtfoe #star vs the forces of evil #tgg svtfoe #fanfic

[lonestarbabe]

Holding Out for a Hero

Chapter 5: Drag Me Down (AO3)

Carlos

Carlos’ stomach had been in knots for a week, tight knots that pulled and tightened every time he moved. The kind of knots that didn’t go away with a new day or a good night’s sleep. Carlos really wasn’t the anxious type. He was calm under pressure, and knew how to keep his emotions in check, but ever since he started working with T.K., he’d been different. Michelle, when she called, always said he seemed so different, and he was. This job had changed him in ways that no other job had. Even as a police officer, he hadn’t ever felt disarmed.

It wasn’t so much the fear that he couldn’t handle the job. He was pretty confident about his skills, and he had gotten used to his daily tasks. He was always adaptable, so it made it easy to learn what T.K. needed. From the beginning, he knew to carefully learn T.K.’s routine because even though T.K.’s life was fast-paced and chaotic, there was still a rhythm to it that Carlos had gotten in step with. He’s a creature of habits, even if his habits cause more chaos than order. He likes things a certain way just like we all do. When he acts out, it doesn’t come out of nowhere. His eyes sparkle whenever he sees Marjan, Judd, or Grace. Carlos tried to piece together what made T.K. tick, the delicate intricacies of what made the popstar human. He absorbed whatever he could about T.K. in hopes that knowledge would make it easier to keep T.K. safe, and for the most part, it was working. T.K. is still a mystery, but I know more now, and he doesn’t overwhelm me like he used to. I’ve figure out enough not to feel like I’m drowning in two inches of water, but if I’m not careful, I’ll drown in twenty feet.

So, what worried Carlos most was not whether or not he was a good enough bodyguard. He knew he was good, but good or not, things could go terribly wrong with a client like T.K., who was impulsive and self-destructive, the worst combination for a bodyguard. Carlos feared the coming changes in T.K’s routine, which would throw everything he’d studied off course. He’d have to reanalyze. He’s not good with change. T.K. thinks he thrives in chaos, but the more chaotic his life gets, the more unhinged T.K. gets. T.K. was starting the next leg of his tour soon, and Carlos wasn’t sure what to expect, but he guessed that T.K. wasn’t going to cope well. Screaming fans, long days, and little sleep were the perfect ingredients for a disaster stew, thick and mushed together.  Maybe he’d be wrong, and the fast-paced lifestyle would do T.K. good rather than harm.

In addition to concerns about T.K. himself, Carlos also had some apprehensions about his place in T.K.’s world. In his short career as a bodyguard, starting with a series of brief assignments, Carlos mostly bodyguarded for rich businessmen or their heirs. There’d been some movie stars, mostly B-list, and even an A-list singer for a few weeks, but no one he’d ever worked for had as many dedicated fans, and haters, as T.K. did. The whole experience took some getting used to, and based on what he’d seen, Carlos was getting a small following of his own.

Over the few months he’d been working with T.K., fans had actually begun to recognize Carlos as T.K.’s bodyguard, which had left him panicked and heading straight to Judd’s office. When he’d told Judd about this, Judd had just laughed saying, “Yeah, they know about all the people hangin’ ‘round, T.K. Even Grace once got a fan letter. It was a nice one, Thank God. I get not so nice ones myself. They think I’m taking advantage of T.K. or mishandling his career. I even got one saying I was trying to put him back in the closet.”

“That’s crazy,” Carlos had said, eyes wide. He didn’t closely follow any celebrities (other than the ones he had to protect, so seeing T.K.’s fans being so dedicated felt like a bucket of icy water being dumped on his head.

In response, Judd had shrugged, “That’s the life. You can’t let it get to you. They know your name now, Carlos, and you can’t run away from that. They know anyone who gets close to T.K. Most of them are harmless. They just love T.K. a lot. Like I love football.” Sounds like the perfect culture for stalkers.

“Doesn’t that impede my ability to protect him?” Carlos had asked, half wanting a chance to run away from the insanity that had become his life. But I couldn’t do that to T.K. He needs me, and I need this job to prove that I’m more than police force reject. I need redemption just as much as T.K. needs protection. This is the biggest chance I’m going to get, and if I blow it, it’s going to end badly for everyone. Especially T.K.

“Nah, you just have to keep doing what you’ve been doing. Protect T.K. as best as you can. Don’t start signing autographs.” Why would I ever do that? “One of his bodyguards got a little fame hungry and did that, and T.K. nearly got mobbed by a group of fans. I fired that idiot the second T.K. was safely home, no thanks to his bodyguard.” Carlos didn’t think it was necessary to mention that he’d feel too stupid signing autographs to even consider doing something so careless. With that stunning bit of advice, Judd had sent Carlos back into the world of screaming fans, and Carlos did the best he could with the situation he’d been given.

It was mortifying each time a fan seemed to know something about Carlos that they shouldn’t have known. Like when one had first called Carlos by his name. That had been a shock. Thankfully, his social media was already private, but he’d already gotten a bunch of requests on Instagram from a deluge of obsessed fans. Carlos’ brother-in-law had even sent him a fanfic in which he’d been written into a hot bodyguard romance. Carlos had clicked out before it had gotten to the steamy bits, feeling embarrassed and exposed. I didn’t sign up to be known.

On his way over to T.K.’s house, he swung by to his favorite bakery and picked up a box of doughnuts. As he held them in his hand, walking up to T.K.’s door, he felt a little stupid. He didn’t even know if T.K. liked doughnuts or if T.K. had already had breakfast, but knowing T.K., the popstar had probably just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago.

T.K. immediately saw the box and his face lit up. “Are those doughnuts?” he asked as if he’d just spotted a unicorn.

“Oh my god, you’re the best. I haven’t had doughnuts since… I don’t even know when.” Carlos had them most Saturdays. They were his big weekend treat. He worked out enough and ate a balanced diet, so he didn’t feel bad about splurging on some treats every once in a while.

“Because you don’t get up early enough for breakfast?” Carlos guessed.

“That and my old manager was a bitch about me eating junk food. She also wanted me to wear skinny jeans so tiny that I’m still trying to figure out how I got them past my ankles. Judd’s let me loosen them up a bit.” T.K. laughed. “I could wear overalls and Judd wouldn’t care. Or a pirate costume.” Carlos couldn’t imagine T.K.’s jeans being any tighter. I can’t let my mind go there. They already looked like they were painted on, the dark fabric stretched over muscled thighs. How could I not notice the black fabric clinging to those lean, long legs?

Carlos opened the box to show T.K. the array of treats, offering him first dibs, and, of course, T.K. chose the most colorful doughnut in the box with pink icing and sprinkles. Carlos smirked at him. “You didn’t even ask what flavor it is.”

T.K. shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The prettier the doughnut, the better the taste. This one has the most sprinkles. It has to be good.”

“Is that so?” Carlos hoped the sparkle in his eyes wasn’t too obvious. T.K. had a way of making Carlos feel good, and in the time they’d known each other, Carlos had learned that while T.K. was miserable, moody, and maudlin when he was under the influence, he was impish, witty, and sweet when he was sober. It was no wonder he had so many fans because he possessed that infectiousness that so few people had. When he was present, he could make the night seem like it was day. Carlos wanted to be around that T.K., the one who made Carlos’ job easier and who treated Carlos as a friend. It was the other T.K., the spoiled, selfish, suffering superstar who troubled Carlos. Because T.K. was none of those things. Those were just the qualities that popped out when he war running scared.

“I don’t make the rules.” Carlos tried to avert his eyes as T.K. poked his tongue out, licking at the doughnut in practiced swirls. For the love of god, T.K., just eat the doughnut. Something mischievous flickered in T.K.’s emerald eyes as his eyes met Carlos’ and he took an exaggerated bite into the doughnut, moaning as dough and cream oozed into his mouth and past the corner of his lips. He licked the filling off as he chewed, giggling a bit in a way that Carlos couldn’t help but be endeared by. Who gave him the right to be so cute? “Oh, yeah. That’s good. So good. I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Carlos shook his head. “Hurry up. We’re going to be late for your rehearsals.”

“How am I supposed to polish off that box of doughnuts when you’re rushing me?”

Carlos picked out a doughnut for himself. “You don’t get the whole box to yourself,” Carlos warned, but he let T.K. have another one. I’d let him have them all if he asked. This one had maple icing and fewer sprinkles, but it looked just as good. “Hey, I thought you liked sprinkles,” Carlos teased.

T.K. stuffed the doughnut in his mouth and said between chews, “I’m versatile.” I’ll bet he is.

“You’re gross, that’s what you are.” A glob of filling sat on T.K.’s face next to his lips, and it nagged at Carlos. Carlos pointed to his own face in the same spot. “You’ve got a little something…” T.K. tried to get it but couldn’t quite pinpoint the right spot. “Here let me,” Carlos picked up a napkin, and dabbed the spot off T.K.’s face. T.K.’s eyes widened at the touch and Carlos felt a jolt of electricity between them. T.K. quickly neutralized his expression, but as Carlos pulled the napkin away, Carlos immediately regretted his actions. He crossed a boundary that he shouldn’t have crossed, and the stirring in Carlos’ stomach made him revert to awkwardness when he’d finally grown comfortable around T.K., sober T.K. at least. Addicted T.K. would always be hard to see.

Being the superstar that he was, T.K. didn’t miss a beat and seemed unaffected by the moment between them. He was used to people blurring his boundaries. He let them have their way too often, Carlos had noticed. T.K. too often allowed other people to push him past his comfort zone, especially when he has a substance running through his body. Hookups tried to get their way with him. Fans tried to get to know intimate details about him. The media pried into anything they could build a story around. Carlos wondered if T.K. forgot that people needed boundaries to feel safe and happy. Carlos sure did, and T.K.’s world had made those boundaries feel like they were shrinking in on him at times.

T.K. brushed the crumbs from his hands. “Come on, big guy, I have rehearsal.” T.K. wasn’t a timely person, but he took rehearsals seriously, Carlos knew. He didn’t want to let fans down, so he wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize his performance.

Carlos nodded, “Let’s go.” Before I blur any more boundaries. Focus on your job, Carlos. Keep T.K. safe.

To Carlos’ relief, rehearsal was calm, the kind of pre-tour monotony he’d grown to appreciate in its levelness. In his line of work, those repetitive, predictable days were the ones to be cherished. Carlos could breathe easily on such days. Those days fueled him. T.K. smiling his way through rehearsal and chatting with the crew never failed to make Carlos feel sunny. Those days energized him for the ones ahead, the ones he knew wouldn’t be so easy.

The best days were when Carlos could report to Michelle that absolutely nothing had happened because those were the days when Carlos didn’t stay up at night wondering if T.K. was okay. When you spend so much time with someone, it’s hard not to get attached. Especially when they’ve got the ebullience and complexity of T.K. Strand. He’s not the kind of guy who you can look away from. Even if sometimes you feel like you’re staring straight into the sun.

T.K.

After rehearsal, T.K. had an interview with a radio show, and as he sat down for the eponymous Peter Jenkins show, everything started off smoothly, but T.K. was careful with what he said because Jenkins was notoriously as asshole who stuck his head where he had no business sticking it. The interview started off smoothly, most of them do, and while T.K. was guarded, he answered the basic questions about his new single, his coming tour dates, and whether he’d thought of the next album yet (he was always thinking about the next album). He’d also gotten the basic personal questions that everyone wanted to know. Love life stuff, which T.K. didn’t have much to report back on. Jenkins seemed displeased about T.K.’s lack of a meaty answer, so he doubled down. “Word around town is that you’re pretty into the club scene.” It wasn’t exactly a secret that T.K. liked to party, but he stiffened at the question. This is not what I’m here for. Why can’t they just let me stick to talking about the music.

Answering questions was a delicate procedure. Celebrities didn’t get enough credit for the art of interviewing. The issue was that there was no way to please everyone. Some fans would support him while others would type call-out posts about how he had became a shitty person since he became famous. The truth is that I was always a shitty person. I just have more means to be shitty now. Others would hate on him, no matter what he said or did, just for the sake of hating on him. Answer too much, and he’d get hate for the things he said, and answer too little and he’d get hate for “trying to be mysterious” and “being too close-off.”

“Is there a question in there?” T.K. replied, and it sounded a little too harsh and confrontational, so forced a laugh to make it look like he was just fooling around. I’m just a popstar who makes jokes about everything. I never take anything too seriously. I just go with the flow and try to make my bodyguard, manager, and best friend as cranky as possible in the process. T.K. looks over to Judd, who is standing nearby with Carlos, and Judd looks as though he’s ready to step in and end the interview if he needs, but T.K. gives a small head shake. The last thing I need is to look like a diva who storms out of interviews.

“You’re just like other celebrities who get famous young. You did well for a while, and now you’re spinning out.” There still wasn’t a question there, and T.K. didn’t think he wanted one. I will not punch Jenkins’ smug face…I will not punch Jenkins’ smug face… I will not punch Jenkins’ smug face… Self-control wasn’t one of T.K.’s specialties, but he’d dealt with many old, white men who didn’t take him seriously and thought his sexuality was somehow wrong. Why did I ever agree to this interview? Judd said he didn’t think I should do it. But I’d wanted to expand my demographic.

I’m not spinning out, he wanted to protest, but that wasn’t true. He’d been spinning out since 2001. That’s how he ended up in the music business in the first place. He’s been a little kid, angry and wasting his anxious energy on delinquencies that set his mom on edge— stealing candy from the store, scribbling angry words on the walls, drawing disturbing pictures of his dead dad. Fearing that he might get violent, his mom had introduced him to music, and music had calmed the madness in his mind. It distracted him from it, at least, but nothing had ever made that madness go away.

T.K. wanted to set Jenkins straight. He wanted to say, Yeah, I’m spinning out, but not because I’m famous, but because I feel like an exposed nerve all the time and I hate what my life has become. I didn’t ask to be famous. I didn’t want everyone to scream my name. I just wanted to get some of my pain off my chest. Sometimes, I wish my mom never got me a guitar because that guitar. The fame. My whole life. Those were consolation prizes. She said, “I can’t give you your dad, so go play some music and leave alone because I can’t deal with a miscreant kid on top of everything else,” and so that damn guitar, my music kept me less lonely, but it couldn’t bring back what I lost and it couldn’t heal the goddamn hole in my heart. But he couldn’t say that answer because it would scream spinning out, and while spinning out might sell albums, it was a private matter nevertheless.

“I’m just having fun,” T.K. said, putting on an award-winning smile. “Nothing wrong with that.” Except that I don’t remember half of what I do, and most of the time, I can’t have fun unless I have a substance first, but other than that, I’m absolutely having the time of my life. I’m not at all lonely or sad or angry or disappointed or troubled.

“I’m not judging,” Jenkins insisted, raising his hands in surrender. T.K. fought the eye roll he felt pressing against his eyeballs. I’ve never seen someone so full of shit.

“Is there a point to this?” T.K. asked as patiently as he could, but he knows instantly it’s a stupid thing to say. Twitter stans will destroy each other over this.

“I’m just wondering…” Jenkins hesitated, and when an asshole like that hesitates, that’s when you should run away as fast as you can because that brief hesitation is the only escape your going to get from whatever attack is about to happen. “If rumors are true, you’ve been doing a lot of drugs and having a lot of sex.”

“I don’t—”

Jenkins chuckles. “Don’t worry, boy scout. I’m not asking you to confirm or deny. You’re too media trained to give it to me straight, anyway.”

“Then—” T.K. couldn’t figure out where Jenkins was going, and that was always scary in an interview. He’d been through some bad ones, so he didn’t worry too much. I can handle this. There’s nothing he can ask that I haven’t been asked before. He was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to admit defeat on this one.

“What I’m asking is,” Jenkins doesn’t pause this time. “Don’t you think your dad would be ashamed of what you’ve become?” T.K. didn’t hear anything after that, and he couldn’t tell if it was because the room had gone silent or because his senses had become hazy. The room had frozen, and only Jenkins seemed to be immune to the emotional frenzy that was taking place around him. Even Jenkins’ producer, Anette, looked like she wanted to end the show right then. I need to do something. Say something.

Judd was having heated words with Anette, probably putting an end to the interview as calmly as he could, but T.K. gave him another look, one that said, “Don’t make a fuss.” Judd loved to fuss over T.K., and most of the time, it wasn’t so bad, but T.K. didn’t want this interview to end on Jenkins’ terms.

“I wouldn’t know. He’s been dead most of my life,” and he doesn’t even try to keep a professional tone. His voice sounds detached, and even though he knows it has to be his, he doesn’t recognize it. The world is blurry and distant, and T.K. feels unground like he’s floating in space with no chance of ever returning. He hates when he gets like this. It makes him scared and angry and anxious. Except when he’s high. When he’s high he’s floaty without the bad parts of being floaty.

Jenkins was notorious for pushing people to their breaking points. You would think it would make his show self-destruct, but Jenkins’ audience loved the way he “tells it as he sees it,” which was code for saying “I like that he’s a cruel bully.” T.K. could talk a lot about things he didn’t want to talk about, but dad talk was not something he could endure, especially talk about his dad.

“He was a hero. You have to think he might be disappointed in some of your choices?”

“You know, I used to want to be a firefighter,” T.K. told Jenkins, and he wasn’t sure why he was sharing this precious information other than passive aggressive spiting. You want me to make a scene? Well, I’ll make a scene. I’ll give you exactly what you want and more.

“Oh, really? What happened to that dream? Did you realize it wasn’t glamorous enough for you?” His voice was so condescending that T.K. could feel himself losing what control he had left.

“I used to want to be a firefighter until I realized that being a dead hero sucked. Now, I sometimes wish I was a dead hero because at least then I wouldn’t have to put up with all this bullshit,” and with that, he did what he said he wasn’t going to and flung off his head phones and stormed away from fucking Peter Jenkins.

Judd caught up with T.K. first, and T.K. knew it was bad when Judd didn’t even try to lecture him as they went down the hall to the door. Carlos was behind them, quietly watching over with scrunched eyebrows. He thinks I’m a freak now. Just as I was starting to get on his good side.

“I’m sorry,” T.K. said when they finally get in Judd’s car. Judd’s hands grip the steering wheel.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“I couldn’t have reacted much worse. Twitter fans and Tumblr fans and fucking Instagram fans are probably all having meltdowns over this. For the love of god, who let me have vocal cords. I couldn’t just have my fucking meltdown in private.” This is turning into breakdown part two.

“T.K. calm down. This is no doubt going to get a lot of attention, but this isn’t going to ruin your career.”

“They’re going to cancel me!”

“They’re not, kid. Everyone knows Jenkins is a bastard. I’m going to take care of this. We’ve handled worse.” Like the girl who claimed to be pregnant with T.K.’s baby. No, this is still worse. “I’m more worried about how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine!” T.K. insisted, but his hands shook and he just wanted some Oxy, or anything else that would take the edge off because things are getting too complicated, and Carlos was dead quiet beside him, which made T.K. worry he’d broken his poor bodyguard who was far from a chatterbox but was good at keeping up a conversation.     

“T.K., you said some pretty—”

“Is this about that dead hero line? Because I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You picked up on what I was trying to say pretty fast.”

“Because I know how your cowboy brain works.”

“I think you should see someone about all this,” Judd replied, and T.K. knows he said it right then because it was harder for T.K. to lash out in a moving car. He couldn’t storm away. That’s for sure.

T.K. looked over at Carlos, feeling humiliated that he was hearing all this. “Judd, no. You know that kind of thing isn’t for me.”

“You know I’m not a talking kinda guy, but it can’t hurt to try. Just once a week. You can even do virtual sessions if you like.”

“I just want to curl up in bed and never come out,” T.K. said stubbornly, unlocking his phone and scrolling through Twitter. He should have started on Tumblr. They’re less harsh there. “I’m doomed. The things people are saying! I’m never going to live this down.” His mom had also tried calling him three times, and he knew that as soon she got done with her shift that Marjan would not just be calling, but she’d be knocking down his door, and if he wasn’t home, she’d find him. She always found him, no matter how hard he was trying to hide.

Carlos snatched T.K.’s phone from his hands. “That’s enough of that.” It was a relief to hear him speak, but T.K. felt red anger surge through him.

“That’s my property!”

“And it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to throw myself off a cliff just because people said mean things about me.”

“T.K.!” he heard Judd exclaim, and just like that, T.K. felt his chest tighten and couldn’t hold back the sobbing that had been creeping up on him ever since he was at the studio.

Judd watched him when he could, looking back using the rearview mirror, but he didn’t say anything. Carlos looked like he didn’t know what to do, and T.K. felt like an idiot because no one likes a crybaby.

“My dad would hate me if he knew me,” T.K. confessed to no one in particular, but he figured that it couldn’t hurt to be honest about how he felt. After all, he’d confessed a lot more on live radio that would be recorded and saved for posterity. No point having secrets anymore. Might as well live up to my potential as a fucked up popstar.

“Your dad wouldn’t be ashamed of you, T.K.,” Carlos said, and his eyes looked so sincere. He was the kind of person who wouldn’t say a nice thing if he didn’t mean it, but he also somehow always found a nice thing to say.

Judd added, “He’s right you know. You mean a lot to a lot of people.” Yeah, I mean a whole lot to all the people who want what I can give, but don’t care about who I am. Very few people know who I really am. Most of the others, I’m fooling, and probably now, I’m not fooling them anymore. Everyone is going to realize I was never worth their time. When tour comes along, I’ll be playing to empty arenas, but it could be worse. How? I don’t know, but there has to be something worse than this, and it will probably happen to me next week.

“Everything I touch turns to disaster,” T.K. sputtered. “I’m so sick of it. All I wanted was to play music because how else was I supposed to survive? But now the music all sounds flat, and it feels like it’s never going to sound right again.” T.K. didn’t know what he was saying. His mouth was moving too fast for him to process his words, but it felt good to let them all out. Maybe Judd’s therapy idea wasn’t such a bad one. T.K. wouldn’t have to change anything. He could just have someone to vent to. He wouldn’t have to listen to anything a professional said.

“That’s not true,” Carlos said, and T.K. realized that Carlos was rubbing circles on his back. It had been so long since someone had done that. Maybe since his father had died. His mom had done her best, but she’d struggled with her grief, and she’d had to balance a lot more than she was ready to balance. She worked more and hired people to keep T.K. busy— music teachers, tutors he didn’t need, housekeepers who had better things to do than be bothered by grubby little kids with a penchant for mischief.

“Maybe I do need therapy.” It took a lot out of him to say that, but the realization had struck him out of nowhere, and now, it wouldn’t go away. It can’t hurt anything other than my pride, so what if it’s a waste of time. I’m going to have a lot of time on my hands when no one wants to see me sing.

Judd looked pleased. “I’ll get you a list of possible candidates you can look over.” Knowing Judd, he’d create a carefully curated list that had been thoroughly vetted.

“I could have my assistant do that,” T.K. offered. “Or I could do it myself.” He figured he shouldn’t keep expecting people to do stuff for him.

“That’s okay. I know you’re going through a lot, and with tour, you’ll be busy. I can handle it myself if you want me to. Grace may know some good people.”

“That would be good. She’d find people a simple google search never would.” T.K. smiled thinking about Grace. She always had a fondness for T.K., and he had a fondness for her. He explained to Carlos, “Grace knows a lot of people. If you need a recommendation for hiring someone, she can give you a whole list of the best people for the job. I don’t know how she does it.”

Judd smiled proudly. “My wife is a good listener. That’s how she does it.” He made eye contact with Carlos in the rearview mirror. “Carlos seems like a good

listener too.” Yeah, and that’s what I’m afraid of.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fics #Elise Writes #my writing #my fics #holding out for a hero

[danwhobrowses]

AEW All Out 2020 Review

Okay...lot to unpack there All Out is in the books but not all of it was positive vibes, but there was still a lot of good stuff here that I’m gonna run down So Obviously, Spoilers for All Out

I’d like to preface that this has not been AEW’s best PPV, but parts of it was not AEW’s fault, I also have to add that the card took some heavy shuffles, starting with moving the Casino Battle Royale and Tooth and Nail match to the main card, quickly adding two new Buy In shows. The Buy In Joey Janela (w/Sonny Kiss) vs Serpentico (w/Luther) - Winner: Janela (Pinfall via Elbow Drop) A nice fun opener, Luther doesn’t do it for me but Serpentico definitely does, Janela looked very solid as Serpentico sold for him, some pretty decent athleticism and some solid heelish brutality from the Snakeman. Kiss got a hit in on Luther’s interfering and the result was fine, Janela then put over Kiss on the hard cam saying he’d win the Battle Royale. Private Party vs Dark Order Members John ‘3′ Silver and Alex ‘4′ Reynolds - Winner: Private Party (Pinfall via Gin n Juice) Another fun opening tag match, the kind of energetic tag you get from Pre-Shows really. Both teams were solid but it was the Dark Order who had the better share of the tag synergy. That being said, Marq Quen literally ignored gravity for a moment with a Moonsault and Silver rocked Quen with a Burning Hammer F-5 (I think it’s called the Spin Doctor) for a near fall. Many fans would be convinced that Dark Order should’ve won, and in hindsight they probably should have, but a small flurry got them the Gin n Juice for the win. Main Card Tooth and Nail Match, Britt Baker (w/Rebel ‘Reba’ Tanea) vs Big Swole - Winner: Big Swole (KO) After heavy fan demand, Tony Khan decided to move the match onto the main card as the opener. Swole rolled up with a BLM armband and a fancy car into Baker’s office, met by ‘Reba’ acting as the receptionist. After hitting her with a clipboard Swole was mentally tormented a little by blood in the sink and chattering teeth as Baker quietly stalked her and then hit Swole (kinda lightly really) with her diploma. Baker looked to torture Swole for most of the match with dentistry equipment, some solid landings on the unprotected floor did sell a bit of intensity, when Swole rallied they went to the back where Reba also returned, she was dunked into a nearby bin via Britt’s ‘Role’s Royce’. Britt returned to the advantage as she looked to inject Swole with something (I think it’d be a numbing agent), but ended up taking it into the leg herself as Reba funnily screamed ‘You Stabbed Her!’, a dazed Swole then used another Diploma to do ‘Dirty Dancing’ through the diploma on Reba, another Dirty Dancing on Britt knocked her into the Doctor’s chair as Swole finished Baker with some anesthetic. As cinematic matches go it was a mixed bag, some bits were funny but some of it was just ‘silly bobbins’, a theme with AEW’s women’s matches sadly is that JR really can’t commentate on Women without saying something wrong or outdated (more on that later), it probably should’ve stayed on the Buy In where it would’ve been afforded more time and less seriousness, also odd that Baker took the loss on her return. The Young Bucks vs Jurassic Express (w/ Marko Stunt) - Winner: The Young Bucks (Pinfall via BTE Trigger on Jungle Boy) A PPV-quality tag match, Jurassic Express and the Bucks started with a lot of energy as the Bucks started leaning into their asshole heel attitudes. Isolating Jungle Boy and infuriating Luchasaurus, there was a fair amount of Back and Forth which usually ended with the Bucks once more doubling on the Big Man to focus on JB. At one point, Marko Stunt (in a crutch after being demolished by Jake Hager on a prior AEW Dark match) pulled Matt off the ring apron as he mocked JB to tag him in. Eventually Luchasaurus did what he does best: the Hot Tag, taking both on with his unique offence, he also added what I could only call a ‘Chokesault’ since he chokeslammed Nick so hard onto Matt that he basically moonsaulted onto his prone brother. Jurassic Express wowed with their airborne abilities with JB using Luchasaurus to hop over the top rope onto Nick for a perfect crossbody but were again undone when the rana setup led to JB being powerbombed on the apron and Luchasaurus hit with a destroyer. The Boy and his Dinosaur almost got the win by reversing a Meltzer Driver setup into an Extinction Level Event but the pin was broken. Marko’s action before came to haunt him as Matt kicked away Marko’s crutch in torment, then murdered him with a superkick that wrote him out of interference. After the Bucks were set over the guard rail, Luchasaurus took himself out by launching from the ring over the barricade to the group of uncarded wrestlers (including Griff Garrison, Brandon Cutler - who was on the opposite end of the ring to Peter Avalon who split from him on Dark, and the Gunn Club) in a gravity-defying dive. But this left Jungle Boy at the mercy of the Bucks, eating a superkick for 2, then a Superkick Party also for 2 but then being destroyed by a BTE trigger for 3. A great birds eye shot of a limp Jungle Boy encapsulated the match as once again Jack Perry (and Luchasaurus) light up AEW’s card even in defeat, tremendous resilience as we see a much more heelish Bucks come about. Casino Battle Royale - Winner: Lance Archer (eliminated Eddie Kingston) The Casino Battle Royale started strong with Trent, Hager, Fénix, Blade and Christopher Daniels. No eliminations took place until the next bunch came out; Kazarian, Santana & Ortiz, Taylor and happy surprise Will Hobbs! And Hobbs was the first to get an elimination, taking out the Blade, CD was taken by Hager until the next group came about, Best Friends renewing hostilities with Santana and Ortiz. The third group was Billy Gunn, Penta El Zero M, Ricky Starks, Brian Cage and Darby Allin. The Latter quickly went for Team Tazz as Gunn went for the bigger fish, only to be eliminated by Cage, Allin then surprisingly eliminated Fenix as Santana and Ortiz doubled to take out Chuck. The final group of entrants came with Sonny Kiss, Eddie Kingston, the Butcher, Lance Archer and Shawn Spears - who lingered on the sides for a bit to cut a promo. Sonny Kiss made a quick impact by eliminating Hager, but was then eliminated by Cage and left prone to Hager’s wrath. Trent overcame the double team by eliminating Santana and almost got Ortiz until Archer through Trent over as Ortiz ducked...then Archer dumped Ortiz. Kazarian also got a surprise elimination of Penta as the Butcher then avenged him, Allin got some payback on Team Tazz by eliminating Starks to Tazz’s dismay, but this led to a brutal beatdown on Allin, with Starks pulling out a body bag for Cage and Cage ‘filled’ it with Thumbtacks, stuffed Allin in it completely then brutally dumped the bagged (and thus blind to impact) Allin out of the match. The Joker would soon arrive and it was someone nobody expected: Matt Sydal. The former Evan Bourne looked to make headlines and he did...for the wrong reasons. Unfortunately as he set up his beautiful shooting star press, he botched the jump and didn’t make the rotation, falling flat on his back (Props to Hobbs though who quickly rolled to check on him). A soured taste to a decent royale, Sydal did manage to rally by eliminating Spears before eating a Spinebuster from Hobbs, Kingston sticking in the corner with the Butcher as his shield while Cage began to clean up house. Cage and Archer had an exchange as the Machine went to deal with Hobbs, but Hobbs pulled Cage over with him leaving Archer to dropkick both of them off. Sydal then managed to take the Butcher out but was thrown out by Kingston in his decimation by Archer. This left some head scratching though, because Kingston went under the bottom rope in his exchange with Archer to the apron, but as he pulled the Murderhawk Monster over with him, it looked like there might be a double fall, Kingston was put onto the top turnbuckle but looked to knock away Archer, it’s only when Jake the Snake used his bag with a ‘snake’ (we never saw it) in it that Kingston was distracted for Archer to chokeslam him into his gang for the win. A good winner, still would’ve preferred Kingston, but the finish was weird, he went to the apron under the bottom rope so he should’ve still been legal, but I guess when he sat on the top turnbuckle that counted as in-ring? A fun royale though marred slightly by Sydal’s botch and that finish, Will Hobbs as well impressing many on a big stage. Broken Rules Match, Matt Hardy vs Sammy Guevara - Winner, Matt Hardy (via Sammy not answering the 10-Count) Ho boy. This one. So it started out very good, outside the stadium Matt called out Sammy, who had commondeered a golf cart of his own to chase Matt with, Matt weaved him to have Sammy crash into some boxes and bins as the fighting continued. The controversy began with a table spot involving a Scissor Lift, Matt looking to throw Sammy off it onto two merch tables below only to have Sammy Spear them both. Unfortunately, the trajectory was a bit over, Matt’s feet hit the first table which meant his landing onto the second was overshot and Matt landed head-first into the ground. Aubrey quickly checked on him and pulled up the X, but Matt seemed adamant to continue so they started the 10 count. Sammy noticed that Matt wasn’t going to stand for 10 so ‘attacked’ him to keep the match going but Matt continued to lose footing as fans felt unease on whether it was a work or shoot. The X was called again and the bell rang as Commentary noted the risks in wrestling, but by then Matt was walking on his feet and Sammy pulled nearer to the ring, the match controversially restarted with Matt blindsiding Sammy from the side, sprawling to the stage as they climbed scaffolding and dumped Sammy into the floor for the 10 Count. Concussed, AEW has gotten criticism for letting Matt continue, even to a rushed finish so that the storyline remained intact. I’m 50/50 myself, Khan later noted that the Doctor felt he could continue enough and they did limit his movement, they didn’t climb as high as they intended and Hardy was quickly rushed to hospital. Despite his wife’s fuming and angry fans looking to smear AEW like a shark in bloody water, they did as much as they could without ending the match super abruptly, and if anyone says ‘we’d be slaughtering them if WWE did this’, WWE did do this, memory serves me right Becky Lynch was concussed and kept going with the iconic ‘bloody Becky’ moment, Undertaker was concussed and kept going when the streak ended, Kairi Sane had 2 concussions in 2 different matches and finished both matches. It’s a shame, because the two did look like they had a lot of ideas, but this match did very much taint the first half of All Out and will overshadow a lot of positive vibes that came from the show as a whole. AEW Women’s Championship, Hikaru Shida (c) vs NWA Women’s Champion & TJPW International Princess Champion Thunder Rosa - Winner: Hikaru Shida (Pinfall via ‘Three Count’ Knee Strike) With a sour taste in the mouth, the anticipated Women’s match was just what fans needed to regain some excitement - though I personally questioned the card structure from here since Mimosa Mayhem and an 8 Man tag was still to come. Before the match I also popped for Shida getting streamers for her entrance, I fucking love streamers it’s a great way to involve the crowd. Shida and Rosa put on a strike and technical show which demonstrated why they were at the top of their divisions, Rosa proved to have scouted Shida’s movesets a lot by counter moves and cutting Shida off when she was getting momentum. But Shida would also pull out counters of her own, a great backbreaker and knee strike flowed with the back and forth nature of both champions, Rosa rocking Shida with a DVD on the apron but Shida wasting Rosa with a Meteora on the ramp. Both women also wore the other down with submissions, Rosa working the back with various stretches as Shida locked in the Stretch Muffler. Rosa looked to rally again as she kicked out of a Falcon Arrow at 1 and reversed a second attempt, but like lightning Shida struck with the Three Count, wiping her out for the win. This was the solid bout we needed to start the second half, both women looked strong and tough, Rosa lost nothing from the defeat and Shida was thoroughly challenged by her, it definitely met the expectations set out for it and hopefully we can see more of Rosa in AEW’s future. The only real criticism I can give for this match is commentary again, JR just can’t commentate a good women’s match anymore, and frankly I think for these matches we should really look towards having Veda Scott, Renee or Mauro be brought in, at least for these matches, let JR commentate matches that are more his speed or genre but that is the only criticism, and it’s not against the women. Segment: Interview with Kip Sabian and Penelope Ford A short, oddly-placed, segment came next as Penelope announced that she and Kip were getting married. Selling a wedding segment for Dynamite, Kip noted that first must come a Bachelor Party and he’s found a perfect best man for it. Kip notes that he’ll reveal who on Dynamite. Expect a debut or a faction formation, is my TH2 x Kip/Penelope faction hopes coming true? There was also a slight dig at WWE’s controversial edict to not approve third party monetization as Kip promoted his twitch channel with a disclaimer beneath saying that AEW approve it. The Dark Order (TNT Champion Mr Brodie Lee, Colt Cabana, Evil Uno and Stu Grayson) vs The Natural Nightmares (w/ Brandi Rhodes and Allie), Matt Cardona and Scorpio Sky - Winner: Nightmare Family (Pinfall via Rollup on Cabana by Dustin) A match that seemed a dead cert for the Dark Order to win especially since they failed on the Buy In, the 8-Man had a steady as each member showed off their athleticism, Sky and Cardona also getting some impressive moves on Uno and Grayson, but Lee was always prepared to clean up house as he also mocked Brandi at ringside. Dustin - appearing jarringly in blue this time - was the surprising speedster of the match, upping the pace was his hot tag as he set up the energy of the match. As Sky and Brodie confronted with the latter the illegal man, Anna Jay snuck up from behind but was blocked by Sky and booted out of her heels by Brandi before being pulled apart by Grayson (JR joking that she had a wardrobe malfunction did not sit well for many, including me). Grayson managed to rally for the Dark Order as QT Marshall was isolated by the Quartet, but Brodie stared a hole in Dustin in some solid storytelling, telling Cabana to tag him in despite a sure win, Brodie goaded Dustin into the match by throwing QT to tag Dustin in as they brawled. It was a bit of a hoss but it was great and well-timed, with Brodie wiping Dustin out with a delayed Discus Clothesline. Content, Brodie offered the pin to Cabana and tagged him in, but Cabana then made the misstep by missing the Moonsault, the Nightmare family pulled the Dark Order away as Dustin rolled up the hurt Cabana for 3. As the Nightmare Family praised Dustin, Brodie fumed at Cabana for going for the Moonsault when Dustin was already finished, shoving Cabana as he walked his frustrations off. Evil Uno proved to be the Good Cop as he helped Cabana up after Brodie left. Dustin was interviewed by Tony in a very 80s esque promo as Dustin kinda felt like he was jacked on ‘vitamins’, it was entertaining at the least and set up Brodie vs Dustin for the TNT Title. A surprise outcome for booking but not one I hated, this pushes a TNT title match and the Cabana story, I am upset we didn’t see Tay Conti show but maybe they’re saving it for later, Allie didn’t really involve herself at all with the match after all. AEW World Tag Team Championship, Kenny Omega & ‘Hangman’ Adam Page (c) vs FTR (w/ Tully Blanchard) - Winner: And NEW Tag Champions, FTR (via Pinfall by Dax on Page after a Spike Piledriver) The story of one of the more anticipated matches on the card was clear: the challengers, one of the best purist tag wrestlers in the world arrived together with little showmanship, and the champions, two of the most talented singles wrestlers in the world with their solo entrances, including the name plate guy having Hangman’s as ‘I don’t care what the graphic says anymore’. The match showed off the duality of both teams but it was the champions who started well, a hesitant high 10 from Kenny sowing the small seeds within the match as it became a war of Talent vs Cohesion. FTR worked their pace of isolating the legal man (mainly Hangman) as the solo wrestlers would look for their opening. For a while Kenny showed his Best Bout Machine talents to handle FTR but would be thwarted by their tandem offense of catch wrestling and lifts. Hangman would return to equalize at points including stopping a Goodnight Express on Kenny, but miscommunication was often in the air on Kenny’s part, one time even knocking Hangman off the apron in his attack. Hangman got a pop from a swanton onto FTR and Tully onto the outside while FTR wiped both men out individually with a Tower-of-Doom-esque Bulldog, Kenny’s outside the ring but Hangman’s inside. Hangman once again pushed back, getting his Fallaway Moonsault Slam from the top rope, but this led to the finish as Kenny motioned for the ‘Last Call’, Hangman had hesitations but went with it and got V-Triggered for his troubles, FTR threw Kenny out and landed the Spike Piledriver. But Hangman kicked out at 2! Bafflement on his face, Dax looked to an exhausted Kenny and then to Tully and went for the Spike Piledriver again, after nudging Kenny away it landed as Dax stared gladly at Kenny in great psychology; FTR let Kenny knew that they won, not just physically but mentally too. A bit of an abrupt end led into the aftermath of the match, Kenny rolled to grab what looked like a small coffee table from under the ring. After considering laying into Hangman, he threw the weapon away to the revenant Hangman’s relief, but as he went to embrace Kenny, Kenny side steps him as Hangman collapses. Some poetic storytelling there as Kenny just seems to give up on Hangman, a switch gone in his head as the camera follows him out, venting to the Bucks as he leaves and hints that they need a ‘clean break’. The saga continues, but the Cleaner is still kept in arm’s reach. So the match was a great wrestling match, and the end was good storytelling, but this would miss the mark with many since people were expecting the Cleaner, for the trigger to be pulled and for it to have the same emotional weight as the Bucks match. But at least for the latter, it is a tall ask, and it still was the correct booking decision. Mimosa Mayhem Match, Chris Jericho vs Orange Cassidy - Winner: Orange Cassidy (via Submerging Jericho into a pool of Mimosa with two Superman Punches) So the setup and positioning of this was weird, it was clear that AEW wanted a palatte cleanser between the heavy storylines but the match already looked super gimmicky. Two pools of Mimosa either side like a kids gameshow with tables of Bubbly, it wasn’t what I imagined at least. Jericho and Cassidy came out uncharacteristically alone and without their stablemates as they went for their rubber match, starting with an excellent opener as Cassidy’s charge was met with a codebreaker. Jericho controlled a lot of the match as he tried to dip Cassidy in Mimosa, getting a foot and his hair in there at different times and smashing a plate over Cassidy on the left side. Cassidy came to life a few times with some solid counters as he mostly looked for a pin, but he would often be caught by Jericho in tense situations, at one point being at the mercy of a powerbomb drop as he hammered at Jericho’s head, only to be sent through a table which still had the Bubbly, Glasses and Plates on it. Welted on his back, Cassidy wiped Jericho out but the Birds Eye shot conspicuously showed Aubrey adjust a glass. This unfortunately telegraphed its use later as Cassidy got caught in the Walls of Jericho, with no rope breaks Cassidy used the glass to throw Mimosa in Cassidy’s eyes, a Superman Punch led to a near fall as both looked to put the other away. Having to tightrope around the pool of Mimosa, Cassidy caught Jericho with a Superman Punch after escaping a suplex, Jericho lingered but the second did the trick, with Jericho soaking in this pool of Mimosa. Frankly I wasn’t all invested in this match, it was a bit too much especially since at this point it was 4am, but both men did good and OC gets very over as Jericho soaks in another ‘moment’. I was very surprised that the Inner Circle didn’t get involved at all, why were there two pools? Why was Hager wearing white? Something tells me that plans led to this match being condensed a little. AEW World Championship Match (If Moxley uses the Paradigm Shift he will be Disqualified and forfeit the title), Jon Moxley (c) vs MJF (w/ Wardlow) - Winner, Jon Moxley (Pinfall via Paradigm Shift) Unfortunately, the 5th hour of AEW was met with a lot of fatigue from the audience, to the point where the Main Event was hoped to be a short affair. MJF continued his Presidential Homages by wearing Red, White and Blue tights as Moxley appeared in his usual camo rogue uniform, Wardlow also had the a MJF scarf-styled tie. The Psychology of this match though was good, MJF frustrated Moxley with quick counters, pins and rest holds. After cooling off a bit, Moxley played smarter by baiting MJF into his offense, while reminding Wardlow that he was in the ref’s eyeshot. Moxley was twice enticed to use the Paradigm Shift but had to fight against his instincts, as MJF looked to quickly sneak advantages in, Wardlow would prove to gift him a big opening as his lingering gave MJF time to drop Moxley’s shoulder hard on the apron. Fighting with one arm now, MJF focused in as he groomed Moxley for the Salt of the Earth, but Moxley’s rabid offence would hit back, locking in the rear naked choke, but MJF would then counter himself and get the cross armbreaker on the hurt shoulder. MJF sold the idea that he could win by a pretty big blade job when Moxley took things to the outside, attacking with the guardrail as he has often done in his defenses, a third Paradigm Shift was shifted to a Money Clip but the arm gave out on the Gotch Piledriver, the two hammered at each other back and forth as Moxley scrapped him, even resorting to biting, MJF would return the favour after locking in a brutal-looking armbar after a vicious top rope double stomp on Moxley’s arm, biting the fingers in the process. Adrenaline proved Moxley’s fiend as his landed the Gotch Piledriver, swiftly knocking MJF down with suplexes and clotheslines, but only getting 2 because his injured arm prevented him from hooking the leg. MJF’s violent side looked to finish the champion as he used a rope-assisted facebuster but only got one, attempting the second granted Moxley the Air Raid Crash for 2, the two hit each other as they got to their feet, Moxley seeming immune of pain or caring as MJF seemed driven by blood and fury. The finish was how I predicted though, MJF’s usual last resort is the diamond ring, which would be handed to him by Wardlow as he makes a distraction. Only this time, when Wardlow threw the ring at MJF, he wasn’t ready. A brief stare ensued between Champion and Challenger as Moxley added up the numbers, MJF giving his ‘oh shit’ look as he realised in telling Moxley that the ref is distracted, he gave him an opening. A Paradigm Shift followed as Moxley then beckoned the distracted ref to count the fall, Moxley retains with a secret Silver Bullet. After the match Jake and Archer watch on with smiles as Moxley gives them the finger.  A great title match that did what it intended to do, look MJF look a million bucks. The schism between MJF and Wardlow will be the story that drives him forward until he is ready to lead the division, this also continues to sell the protection of the Paradigm Shift, through this match we are highlighted that while Moxley can win by other means he struggles without it, which can be a telling weak point in the future. For now though Moxley continues to prove himself to be a survivor, but how do you survive when Everybody Dies? Conclusion AEW All Out 2020 was not AEW’s best PPV. But it was still a very good PPV, outside of the Sydal Botch, the Hardy injury and the mixed response of the Tooth and Nail match (which really is the fault of fan demand forcing Khan’s hand, you got what you wished for and now you see why Khan was right all along) we got some great progression of storylines, great matches, and several talent got over. Will Hobbs had an impressive PPV debut making it into the final stages of the battle royale, Rosa and Shida were excellent and successfully brought the fans back into the match, Bucks, JE, Kenny, Hangman, FTR, Moxley, Archer, Kingston and MJF were all excellent in their matches too, it’s a little unfair that Hardy’s injury overshadows all that. Of course I hope he’s okay, but Wrestling comes with risk and they finished the match without having Matt take any serious bumps after.  Living in the UK the card was a bit long for me, the card shuffling did seem to upset the pace because of how abruptly the Buy In was changed again due to fan demand, I do feel like the card structure was a little off and that Tony and JR probably need to be talked about with their commentary of women. A lot of the energy got sapped out by their lack of enthusiasm. But despite what people may tell you, All Out was good. The matches were good, the wrestlers got over, the character directions all look promising and we have storyline progression which entices people to want to watch the next Dynamite Overall, 7/10 - which is also how many I got right in predictions (well 7/11)

#aew #all elite wrestling #aew all out #all elite wrestling all out #all out 2020 #aew all out 2020 #jim ross #tony schiavone #excalibur aew #kip sabian #penelope ford #allie #allie aew #brandi rhodes #joey janela #sonny kiss #serpentico #dr luther #luther #private party #Marq Quen #isaiah kassidy #dark order #alex reynolds #john silver #britt baker #dr britt baker dmd #big swole #rebel tanea #reba

[the-starsabove-you]

Slide Away

So won't you slide away Back to the ocean, I'll go back to the city lights Tyler felt lips on his neck, he leaned back as he accepted the kisses on his neck. The music was blasting and people were screaming and dancing around him. It was another typical night at the Seguin house in which there was a party. He didn’t care if the media and fans were calling him names or that he was partying too much.. He couldn’t care less of anything in the moment. He had another failed relationship in the books. That’s right guys.. Tyler Seguin was newly single. Tyler took a swing of his drink and whined at the burning of his throat. He quickly moved away so the random woman kissing his neck would stop. He walked around until he stopped and leaned on the wall and observed the party around him Tyler was walking through the beach with Marshall and Cash behind him, he decided to take a trip to the beaches in Florida. He thought it would be nice to explore the beach life in Florida and bring his dogs along him. He saw people surfing and thought it was pretty cool. He wanted to surf but he had the dogs with him. Tyler thought it would be amusing to see how many times he would fall off the board. Tyler stopped when he saw a woman surfing, she was beautiful. She was very light on her feet. Controlling the surfboard through some tough waves. Tyler watched her for a bit and noticed that she was making her way towards land and he rushed towards her, his dogs following behind eagerly and he jogged towards her. She moved her hair out of her face and she smiled “Hello!” “Hi! I’m sorry, I was watching you surf and you did so amazing.” He said and she laughed and shook her head “It’s nothing, my father was a surfer and he got me on a board as soon as I could walk.” “Smart man, do you do it for sport or more like a hobby?” He questioned and she shook her head “More of a hobby, I’m a teacher.. Work with Pre-K kids” She said and Tyler smiled widely “Ah little kids, gotta love them” “I love bringing sea shells from here to show them in class. Gets them to ask their family to go to the beach and enjoy the view and the water” “You don’t have any children?” He asked and was hoping she said no, mostly she would be single. She shook her head “No kids, you?” “Just my two boys here” Tyler said as they turned to see the dogs playing and her eyes lit up “Oh they’re so cute!” She said as the dogs ran to her and she dropped to her knees and Tyler grinned Tyler remembered the memory, he had fallen deep for her and they swapped phone numbers and started talking and then dating. She didn’t really mind that he was a hockey player, she knew he would be traveling to different places and she would stay in Florida and take trips to Dallas on weekends when he was there. Tyler made his way towards the pool and he took off his shirt and got into the water, he loved the water.. She would bring him to the beach on his off days and she would surf and she started teaching him, little by little. He wasn’t really good at it but he still enjoyed doing it. But she would mostly surf and he would watch, he was in awe every time she did surf. He was floating now, his head spinning as he looked at the night sky and at the stars, he closed his eyes as he sighed softly. “Tyler, all I’m asking if we don’t go to a party this weekend.. Maybe just relax at home before you go away and I’m heading back to Florida” “I haven’t seen my friends in months, they’re gonna be there tonight and I wanted to hang out with them” “You got blackout drunk the last time we went to a party and I had to drag you back home.. I just would like to not be able to bring my sometimes drunk boyfriend home and maybe we can just stay home and relax” Tyler was silent for a moment until she spoke again “I’m not in that stage of life where I want to go to a party every time I get invited to.. I want to settle down and get married and have children” “Well I’m not ready to settle down” Tyler snapped and he shook his head when her eyes widen “I’m not ready to be a husband or father. I feel like I’m still young, I need to enjoy it and be the best hockey player and take advantage of what life is offering me..” “So you’re saying that you never thought about wanting to settle down with me?” She scoffed and shook her head and grabbed her bag, Tyler called her name but she shook her head “I’m gonna go take a walk.. Enjoy the party” She muttered and she walked out the door. Tyler sighed softly, that night he did leave for the party.. Their relationship went downhill from there until she broke up with him.. She took all of her stuff and went back to Florida. He wanted to call her at times but he was afraid she wouldn’t answer. Tyler swam and he rested his arms on the edge of the pool and laid his head down, looking at the people partying around him. People drinking, dancing. Laying on the chairs or benches. He shook his head as he sighed. Tyler knew in that moment that he was done partying, that he finally wanted to settle down and have the life that She wanted but it was too late. The relationship was beyond repair and there was nothing he could really do about it but move on.. Yeah.. He had to move on. Tyler closed his eyes and listened to the music and people around him. He was always meant to be that partying guy. The media and fans already painted him that way with all of their comments. He wish he could just yell at the people who called him immature or an idiot because all he did was partying.. He just wanted to live his life without no trouble from the media or fans.. But also had made her happy. The City lights were always his thing anyways. He failed her. Her eyes were closed as she heard the roaring on the waves and the ocean breeze hitting her. The past few weekends were her at the beach, surfing, being in the water. It felt like she was home. She felt like a piece of her was missing with Tyler but she knew that he wanted to live his life. They were both two different people in different stages in life and she would find someone who would be ready to settle down and have a normal life. She had to move on. The Ocean was always her thing anyways. She opened her eyes as she picked up her surfboard and ran towards the water. Ready to start a new chapter in life.

#Tyler Seguin #tyler seguin imagine #dallas stars #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

[lostanarchymagazine]

American Flagg! is an American comic book series created by writer-artist Howard Chaykin, published by First Comics from 1983 to 1989. A science fiction series and political satire, it was set in the U.S., particularly Chicago, Illinois, in the early 2030s. Writers besides Chaykin included Steven Grant, J.M. DeMatteis, Alan Moore and John Francis Moore.

American Flagg, which ran 50 issues (October 1983 – March 1988), was one of the first titles to be published by First Comics, an early alternative press comics company founded in Evanston, Illinoisin 1983. Unusually for the time, the company offered its freelance writers and artists creator rights, including ownership of their creations. Regardless, writer-artist Howard Chaykin, then living in New York City, felt trepidation when First Comics approached him to do a project. He recalled in 2010,

My concern had all and everything to do with the fact that this was a brand new company, located in [a suburb of] Chicago. I'd always worked for companies I'd visited and had day-to-day-dealings with. [But] they talked about a financial plan that would make it possible for me to get out from under the debt I had accrued working for [publisher] Byron Preiss [illustrating early graphic novels]. It was encouraging, so I went home and concocted a scenario, a pitch document, and that was it.

Chaykin devised a series set in 2031, a high-tech but spiritually empty, consumerist world in which the American government has relocated to Mars, leaving what remains of the U.S. to be governed by the all-encompassing corporation known as the Plex. The series star is Reuben Flagg, a former TV star drafted into the Plexus Rangers and posted as a deputy in Chicago, Illinois.

The first 12 issues, running through cover-date September 1984, consisted of four interlocking, three-issue story arcs. Chaykin recalled his difficulty in producing 28 pages of art and script monthly. "I was still a smoker and a drinker at the time. And [the output was such that] I'd never done anything like that before, and it was insane. It just devoured my life [and] I had no assistants. I didn't know how to work with an assistant at that point, and it was a very difficult process. ... I was trying to do a fairly high-quality product and I didn't want to slough it off."

Chaykin made wide use of Craftint Duoshade illustration boards for American Flagg!, which in the period before computers, enabled him to add shaded textures to the finished art.Ken Bruzenak's lettering and logowork also won notice, as it was integral to American Flagg's futuristic, trademark-littered ambiance.

American Flagg's first dozen issues form one complete story that has influenced comic creators including Brian Michael Bendis and Warren Ellis. The comic made a huge splash at the 1984 Eagle Awards, the United Kingdom's pre-eminent comics awards. Chaykin and American Flagg! were nominated for ten awards, eventually winning seven. American Flagg! also won the 1983 Comics Buyer's Guide Fan Award for Favorite Comic Book and tied for the 1983 CBG Award for Favorite Character (Reuben Flagg).

After issue #12, Chaykin continued the series while also working on such other projects as his revamp of The Shadow for DC Comics and the graphic novel Time2, based on characters introduced in a one-off American Flagg! special in 1986. During this time, Alan Moore wrote a back-up story that ran several issues and concluded in an issue-length story.

Eventually, Chaykin left, to be replaced on a regular basis by first Steven Grant then J.M. DeMatteis. Grant left after only seven issues due to creative friction with the series's new artist, Mark Badger. According to Grant, he had wanted to continue doing stories in the same style that Chaykin had established, while Badger wanted to take the series in new directions. Chaykin returned for a brief run to wrap up storylines before the first volume ended in March 1988. The title was relaunched a few months later as Howard Chaykin's Amerikan Flagg!. This run saw Chaykin return to write the first issue before handing over to John Francis Moore, with Mike Vosburg and Richard Ory penciling and inking the interior art, but the franchise failed to recapture its early success and was canceled after 12 issues.

The story takes place in the year 2031, after a series of worldwide crises called the Year of the Domino (1996) has forced the U.S. government and the heads of major corporations to relocate to Hammarskjold Center, on Mars ("temporarily, of course"). In the wake of the American government leaving the planet and the Soviet Union collapsing from Islamic insurrections, there was a power shift throughout the world, with Brazilian Union of the Americas and the Pan-African League becoming the new superpowers on Earth.

However, the exiled American government, its corporate backers, and a group of technicians in the defected Soviet lunar colony of Gagaringrad form the Plex: a giant, interplanetary union of corporate and government concerns that conduct commerce and govern the United States from its capital on Mars. Many population centers are grouped around massive, fortified arcologies called Plexmalls and the law is enforced by the Plexus Rangers, the absentee Plex's Earthside militia.

The Plex has formed the Tricentennial Recovery Committee, to get America "back on track for '76", but the TRC is in reality a plan to sell the United States off to the new superpowers and to leech off the remaining inhabitants before gaining true self-sufficiency. As a result, the Plex has outlawed non-combat related education, organized sports such as basketball and personal aircraft, restricted media to only one outlet, the Plex itself (although it has multiple channels), and advocates and glorifies the use of political violence amongst independent policlubs by providing money and firearms for its hit TV show Firefight All Night LIVE!, and covertly sterilizes the population by using a combination contraceptive and antibiotic called Mañanacillin to reduce the population.

This all changes when former television star Reuben Flagg is drafted and transferred to Chicago's Plexmall to replace the local Ranger Hilton "Hammerhead" Krieger's fallen partner. He witnesses widespread graft and corruption throughout the Plexmall, but also a series of subliminal messages implanted in a television show that are causing outbreaks of gang violence. After he uses his emergency powers to interrupt the broadcast, he not only ends the violence, but also brings forth a series of events that causes the Plex to send in covert agents, the death of Hilton, and the unveiling of Q-USA, a secret TV station owned and operated by Krieger that opens Flagg's eyes to the nature of the Plex.

As the series progressed, Chaykin took less and less of a direct role in scripting and plotting the stories out, and by the third year of its run, he really had nothing to do with the book other than cover art. Stories began to violate the rules that Chaykin had explicitly stated in the writer's bible for the series (for instance, California was said to have slid into the Pacific Ocean, but in the final year of the book, California was merely shown to have been abandoned for reasons that were vague at best), and characterizations began to drift considerably as well. (Among other things, Flagg abandoned his interest in 1930s jazz, and was frequently shown listening to late-1960s rock, as well as becoming more of a traditional stern-jawed good-guy hero). After trying and failing several times to shore up declining interests, First Comics decided to lure Chaykin back into the writer's seat. "American Flagg!" wrapped up its principal storyline with issue #50. By this time, Reuben Flagg had traveled to Mars, overthrown the Plex, and become President of the United States. He then decided to separate Illinois from the United States and run it as his own personal fiefdom. All issues of this series took place in the year 2031.

The next year, the comic was re-launched under the name Howard Chaykin's Amerikan Flagg! (The "K" and a reversed "r" were to reflect the fact that most of this series took place in Russia) and picked up from where the earlier book had left off (in 2032). There is some difference of opinion as to whether this new book was intended to be a limited run, or open-ended as is the norm with comics. In either case, it ended after twelve issues. The final issue ends with a photo album of the Flagg's future domestic life, with lots of kids, a screaming shrew of a wife, and a balding, overweight Flagg.

Characters

Reuben Flagg, born in 2000 at Hammarskjold Center, Mars, to Axel and Rebecca Flagg, was a stand-up comic and popular television star of the show Mark Thrust, Sexus Ranger. After he was made superfluous by CGI technology, he joined the Plexus Rangers and emigrated to Earth, being stationed in the Chicago Plexmall. Flagg is Jewish, and his parents' "undesirably bohemian" attitudes have given him an idealistic view of the United States that runs contrary to the Plex. He has a desire to set things right again, and through inheriting Q-USA, begins to set on that path.

Raul the cat, an intelligent, talking orange tabby housecat. With the exception of his intelligence and his ability to speak (an ability whose origin is never explained), he appears to be otherwise a normal house pet. However, he has a customized set of cybernetic gloves, designed by Mandy Krieger, that give him opposable thumbs.

Hilton "Hammerhead" Krieger, was Flagg's superior at the Chicago Plexmall. A co-founder of the Genetic Warlords motorcycle gang along with  Charles Blitz, but after his 13th arrest, the Plex drafts him because of his criminal experience. Intending to take advantage of the fledgling organization, he meets his future wife Peggy and stays with the Rangers. He does not trust anyone, not C.K., the mayor, not his wife Peg, not his daughter Mandy, and, while a Plexus Ranger, he especially does not trust the Plex. He runs an underground television station called Q-USA that broadcasts illegal sports, pornography, and pre-collapse movies and television shows. He is killed by a Plex secret agent, and  his cat Raul gives Flagg the keys to the station.  He also leaves behind a video explaining to his "heir" the truth of the Plex and the rules he wishes his successor to follow.

Amanda "Mandy" Krieger, daughter of Hilton, she is the air traffic controller for O'Hare Chicago Plexport. However, since the O'Hare Plexport only receives two flights a week, Mandy spends her time tinkering with electronics or getting into mischief. She later becomes a deputy to Flagg.

Jules "Deathwish" Folquet, captain of the Skokie Skullcrushers basketball team. Despite his punk appearance, his hulking size and the extreme nature of the sport he plays, Jules is quite intelligent. He is referred to as the "king of the two finger lobotomy." He first teams with Flagg to resolve a hostage crisis, but later forms the Video Rangers auxiliaries, and then becomes a Ranger deputy. He also later hosts a talk show with Raul called the "Him and It Show". In the second series, he renounces his violent ways, and, through a remarkable series of events, becomes Pope.

Charles Keenan Blitz, also known as The Honorable C.K. Blitz, a co-founder of the Genetic Warlords along with Hilton Krieger, also ended up getting drafted into the Plexus Rangers, but ended up leaving to become mayor of Chicago. Blitz has his hand in every deal, regardless of how illegal it may be; is extremely wealthy and corrupt; and has killed political opponents. As a side venture, he runs the Skokie Skullcrushers blackmarket basketball team. He is usually flanked by his two robot bodyguards, Bert and Ernie, named after "a private joke no one under 40 understands". He has had affairs with Mandy Krieger and with Peggy Krieger, while Hilton was fighting a brushfire war in Carracas, which lead to her being kicked out by Hilton and giving birth to...

Medea Blitz, the offspring of C.K. and Peggy. Early in the series, Medea is a wild child and hangs out with Cyril Farid-Khan, gang leader of current Genetic Warlords. She has a secret affair with Hilton Krieger, but after his murder, is considered a suspect and is involved in a traffic accident, which causes her to miscarry Krieger's child. In order to clean up her act, C.K. Blitz has her join the Plexus Rangers to straighten her out. As the series progresses, Medea is shown to become more and more accepting of the Rangers and becomes a decent team player in Flagg's group.

Sam Luis Obispo also known as Ned Beaumont, also known as Tom Slick. A hustler Reuben meets in Havana while escorting the Skokie Skullcrushers, he later partners with Flagg for most of his time in South America. He has an affair with the wealthy daughter of the Brazilian ambassador, which causes all sorts of problems for Flagg and himself.

William Windsor-Jones, but his best friends just call him Bill. Bill is the youngest member of the Witnesses, a gang of octogenarian rebels. He helps Flagg out from time to time, giving him intelligence and technical support. He later has become a newscaster for Q-USA.  Bill is Prince William, and the rightful heir to the now-abolished British throne.

Luther Ironheart, a robotic Plexus Ranger with a head that consisted of a holographic projection. Assigned to be Reuben Flagg's partner on patrol. While not very bright, he exhibited superhuman strength and agility.

#american flagg #american flagg! #mark thrust #howard chaykin #dystopia #dystopian #1983 #silversteel rocks #first comics #howard chaykin's american flagg #bob violence #mojo el diablo #comic tropes #overlord comics #strange brain parts #reuben flagg

[afxckingdaydream]

I Stopped Sleeping For This *Frat!L.H.*

A/N: @talkfastmari requested a frat!luke fic, I’m sorry it took forever *like, months lmao*! I’ve also never been to any type of party and I’ve never drank so I wouldn’t know any of the stuff about partying/drinking. I’m honestly not a fan of this fic, I feel like I could’ve done better. Kinda disappointed in myself for this one ngl.

Word Count: 2,224

Synopsis: You end up going to a frat party and meet a certain someone.

"Y/n!" My roommate, Jane, shouted as she barged into my room. "Get your ass up, we have somewhere to go!" She tore the blankets off my bare legs and turned my bedroom light on. 

"Dude," The corners of my eyes wrinkled from squinting due to the light, I cover my face with a pillow and let out a muffled, "it's 12 AM. Could we get arrested for whatever you're up to? Cause I'm not down."

Jane huffs and rolls her eyes out of annoyannce, "We're going to a frat party that's on campus. You never know if you could meet a special someone!” She ended with a sing songy voice, “Are you coming or what?" She takes off my pillow that's been on my eyes and tosses it onto the soft shaggy rug. 

"Do I have a choice?" I look at her with my eyes furrowed and sit up against the headboard, while putting the blankets back on my legs. 

Jane turns on her heels towards my doorway and replies with a blunt, "Nope!"

--

As we walked down the street, a couple blocks from our dorm, we could hear the music blaring from the fraternity’s speakers. The air reeked of cigarettes and liquor. It only got worse as we got closer. My nose and eyebrows crinkled from the intense smell that was cancer in a stick and liver problems in a bottle. 

I look over to Jane and I see her grinning with glee, she’s in her element. I for one, am not, I’ve never been a party person. This whole situation I’m in is sort of cliché; the outgoing, extraverted, partier friend forces the silent, introverted, reserved friend into going to a party that people get drunk at and have sex in other people’s rooms, not having a care in the fucking world. 

“My feet are already hurting from walking in these heels and its only been 10 minutes.” Jane explains as she stops to take them off. I take a pause in my stride to wait on her for a couple seconds.

“Why’d you wear those anyways? It’s not like we’re on the way to a club.” I chuckle and once she’s done, I continue walking. 

“Well unlike you, I’m actually trying to get with someone tonight. Maybe potentially date that someone, potentially marry that someone, and potentially have kids with that someone.” She gives a breathy laugh and we both head towards to the walkway that leads to the already open double doors of the white fraternity house. The shouting and music were almost deafening as we strolled to the backyard.

All the sudden I see a drunken frat brother on the roof of the white, modern house jumping off into the pool, screaming, “Geronimo!” and then just slightly making it to the pool and almost onto the concrete. A collective gasp could be heard around yard and back porch with a pause afterwards. “I’m good!” The frat brother shouts as everyone cheers and whistles. 

I sigh and run my hands through my hair, “It’s not a party ‘til someone almost fucking dies…” I mutter to myself with my arms crossed uncomfortably. 

“What the fuck, you guys!” I look behind me to see an ocean eyed man with shaggy golden hair wearing a Nirvana muscle tee with some swimming trunks, “I swear, I’m the backbone of this damn household!” He scolded some of his frat brothers in frustration. 

I giggle and he looks over at me, “I don’t need your judgement.” He says with a brow and smirked.

“Oh, I’m not judging at all! I too think it’s chaotic. A friend dragged me here, and I stopped sleeping for this. This isn’t exactly my scene, you know?” I rock back and forth on my heels and look up through my lashes, waiting for an answer.

“It’s actually not mine either,” He chuckles, “I would much rather have the whole place quiet and organized. What’s your name?” He asks.

“Y/n, yours?” Damn, he sure is gorgeous. 

He tucks his hair back behind his ears. My cheeks flush with a slight pink tint and I look down at my shoes. “My name is Luke. Luke Hemmings.”

“Well nice to meet you, Luke. Do you wanna sit and chat? Believe it or not, I don’t know anybody here besides my roommate, and you seem pretty rad.” I give him a shy smile and glance over to two lawn chairs facing each other beside the pool.

“Oh yeah, sure. Let’s go to the front porch though. It’s kinda hard to hear over here anyways.” He takes his hand in mine and leads me through the house filled with drunken people. His hand is warm and comforting, it made me feel at ease in the ocean of drunkards.

“Y/n!” I stop in my tracks and look behind me, it was a wasted Jane sitting on the couch with her feet lying on the ottoman, “Where are you going, girl?!” She then saw Luke holding my hand, she gasped and quickly got up to whisper in my ear, “Who’s that? How long have you known him? Omg! Are you guys dating and you haven’t told—” 

I cut her babbling off and explain to her, “Woah! Slow your roll! We literally just met, so chill. We’re just gonna go on the front porch to talk, it’s no biggie.” I take a strand of her blonde locks and put them behind her ear. “How many drinks have you had?” I question her empathetically.  

“Just 2 beers is all.” She said whilst looking at me straight in the eyes, nonchalantly like it was nothing. 

“It’s crazy how much of a lightweight you are. You’re really drunk right now, and I don’t think you’re even gonna remember this.” I let go of Luke’s hand to take Jane’s and lead her back to the couch to sit her down while Luke follows me. 

“I’m not drunk, you’re just blurry.” She stated nonchalantly, sitting down on the leather couch. 

I giggle and then sigh at the plastered girl, “Okay, whatever you say…” I lie her down and take Luke’s hand again. He leads me through the crowd. We finally got to the front porch and I see some white rocking chairs. I go over to one of them and sit, Luke takes the other.

“She’s something, huh?” he asked, looking over at me laughing.

“Yeah, definitely. I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her.” I grin at him. Just sitting with him and chatting was a nice change of scenery from the noise booming in the house or just sitting on my bed studying for hours on end.

I gaze at the night sky and stare at it. The moon and all the stars are so breathtaking. 

Out of the blue Luke chimes, “You’re adorable, ‘ya know?”

I look over at him and his grin and giggle, “Oh stop!” I retorted.

His eyes widened, “No seriously, I mean it! I mean, look at you! When you were staring at the stars it was adorable how fascinated you were. You’re just a beautiful as them.” He gives me a soft smile while looking me in the eyes. A faint shade of pink flushes my cheeks and I look away. 

“You’re too sweet…” I said softly, and then I noticed that I know absolutely nothing about him. I look up at him and ask, “Hey… are you passionate about anything? Like, what do you like to do?” 

His eyes twinkled and he spoke a tad fast out of excitement, “Oh yea definitely! Music is very important to me. I play some guitar; I sing a little. Me and my mates are thinking about starting a band!” The way he spoke was so passionate and energetic. 

“Really? That’s so cool! You guys should definitely start a band! You think of any band names yet?” I ask in interest.

“We’re thinking something along the lines of  ‘3 Minutes of Spring’. We’re still working out all the stuff that goes along with being a band.” He smiles widely. 

I started thinking about what a good name for their band would be… and then I had an epiphany! “Oh! What do you think of the name ‘5 Seconds of Summer’…?” Hm. It has a nice ring to it. I’m a genius, just saying…

Luke thinks about the name for a couple seconds, his eyebrows furrowed, and puts his hands on his mouth covering it as comes to the conclusion of, “Yes! That’s it! That’s so much better than all of the names we were thinking. I’ll make sure to ask the guys if they like the name. I’m sure they’ll love it though.” He expressed and smiles gently at me. His smile could light up a room. Pearly white and shiny.  He looks of innocence and as if there’s nothing wrong in the world. His curly tresses get in the way of his sparkling eyes and he swoops it back into place. “So,” he starts, relieving the awkward tension I made from not saying anything, “are you in a sorority here? I think I’d remember you if you were. You don’t seem like the sorority type.” He cocks his head to the side whilst asking the question.

“Nope, I just live in a dorm with that girl you saw that was drunk. It’s only a couple blocks away from here. Nothing special.” I shrug my shoulders. 

There was a sudden silence that was weirdly comfortable. All of the commotion seemed to fade away when he was there. I’ve known him for only an hour and we’re acting as if we’d known each other for forever. 

“You know… we could go over to your dorm...” Once he realized that it sounded like he wanted to get in my pants, he quickly refrained and swatted his hands back and forth, “N-not to do anything! Just to hang out without all the people!”

“No, I understand what you’re saying,” I give out a breathy laugh, “but I would have to take Jane back with us. I can’t leave her here with people we barely know. Not everyone is nice like you and someone could take advantage of her. I’d feel like if that were to happen, it’d be my fault. I feel like we should leave anyways. She’s had one too many.” I shrug my shoulders and look down whilst getting up from my chair. “You coming?” 

Luke gets up from his chair and takes my hand in his, “Let’s go.” He says with a smirk. 

As we’re walking into the foyer, I see a frat dude with a drink in his hand, harassing Jane, who’s almost passed out and slurring her words to him. “Get off of m-me.” She pushed the man off.

“C’mon babyyy! Just come with meeee! Let’s go to my room upstairs!” he whines and tries to pick her up by the waist. 

I shoved the man off of her onto the floor as my blood boils with anger and frustration, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, jackass? Do you know what ‘no’ means?” I shouted.

Suddenly the music stopped and everyone at the party stared, but honestly at this moment in time, I couldn’t give less of a shit. I looked at everyone then gave the man a dirty look, “Answer me!” I pulled the collar of his shirt.

“Woah! You’re crazy, lady!” He yanked my hands off of him and his sneakers make a squeak sounds against the wooden floors as he raced away from us. I rolled my eyes.

“C’mon Jane, let’s go home.” I say with a pout on my features. I pick her up by her arm and help her up. I look back at Luke “Are you coming with us, Luke? Or are you staying here?”

“Um, I guess I’m coming with you guys.” He gets on the other side of Jane and helps you help her up. 

On the way out the door, a frat bro taps Luke on the shoulder and asks quizzically, “You’re going with her? She just attacked one of our bros and you’re just gonna not say or do anything? You’re just gonna betray us like that? Go with the enemy?” The bro furrows his brows and Luke turns around to face him.

Luke stares in the guy’s eyes for a second and says, “Yea, and what about it?”

We both walked out of the house with Jane in our arms and went to my dorm. 

--

I put Jane to bed and wiped her make up off.  Turning towards the doorway, I see Luke and I walk to him.

“Well I guess you can leave now that we got home safely. I had a really good time tonight.” I get on my tippy toes and kiss him on the cheek. 

“I’m glad I could get to know you a little bit tonight. Maybe we could go on a date at some point…?” He smirked that little smirk of his and lick his lips whilst looking at mine.

“I would love to… The coffee shop in the center of the campus at 2pm tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” he glances at my lips once more and then his places his on mine. “see you there.”

“See you…” Then he walks away.

My blush is definitely noticeable. 

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #luke 5 seconds of summer #luke robert hemmings #luke 5sos #luke hemmings 5sos #michael clifford #michael clifford 5sos #michael clifford 5 seconds of summer #michael 5sos #michael 5 seconds of summer #calum hood #calum 5sos #calum hood 5sos #calum hood imagines #calum 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #ashton fletcher irwin #ashton irwin 5 seconds of summer #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin imagines #I stopped sleeping for this

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 35

Tonight was a big night. Bigger than many of the other big nights you’d ever had. You didn’t have to give a speech. You didn’t really have to entertain anyone. You weren’t there to listen about the latest innovations or pretend to listen to someone who was trying to climb over you. You weren’t at the Basel afterparty for the rich and famous on behalf of Stark Industries. You weren’t there to talk about your love of art. You weren’t there to make a generous donation with a smile and a Disney princess wave.

You were there for you and Tony. Very much using the venue for your own advantage. But you were sure they wouldn’t mind. It was, however, because of this, you knew you were walking into a nightmare. While the idea was to put it out casually to the first class world and all its photographers and paparazzi, and then let it leak out to the casual world through the grapevine (and many many pictures…), this night was anything but casual.

It was why you let professional help do your hair and makeup. It was why you’d let a keen eye pick out a slick, gorgeous deep purple mermaid gown with a pooled train, low cut on the neckline and sheer sleeves that had maroon lace detailing up the sides and the hanging pieces from the back that floated behind you as you walked. Similarly you’d picked a coordinated matching outfit for Tony. A smart and sharp white suit with the same dark purple color lining the lapels and coloring his tie along with swirls of that intermingling maroon. Pocket square much the same affair, folded and folded again for good measure.

It was hard not to be nervous. You were never this nervous. But then again… you’d never been put into a position to tell the entire world you were dating Tony Stark before. There were a thousand ways this evening could go that would make this look cheap and tacky, crass. That would put people off the arrangement- not that you cared about what anyone thought. And there would no doubt be people that didn’t like it regardless.

But you loved Tony. Deeply. And to give off any impression save that was unthinkable.

Cameras were going off on the sidewalk as the car pulled up to the long walk of red carpet. Reporters and fans alike were shouting questions at other people and then redirecting when they just knew the Stark car had pulled up on the curb.

Tony glanced at you, briefly, giving your hand a squeeze. A sly smile. In control. He’d taken women to events before. Perhaps he knew the game. Not afraid to get caught by the press- though this was hardly getting caught. Just putting it all out there for everyone to see. No more games. No more getting asked at interviews and pressers what your relationship was.

Everyone would know now.

He got out ahead of you so that he could walk around the car, giving the crowd a wave that turned into a peace sign halfway through. Then he turned to open the car door and held his hand out for you. So you took a breath. Steeled yourself. And then let him help you out.

People were screaming for his attention- his more so than you. Even if you were Stark Industries newest co-owner, he was Tony Stark, after all. Worthy of their adoration. But as he held his arm out for you, you caught the look in his eyes. He’d never cared about everyone else. But tonight he cared somehow even less.

Because he only had eyes for you.

You gave him a gentle smile, eased by his confidence and warm gaze and then slipped your arm around his, holding on to him as he escorted you up the walk. Finding your pace, you held your head high and pretended to be as assured as him.

You were no longer just a woman at the mercy of the world. You owned stake in one of the biggest corporations ever to exist. You were technically now a billionaire. You had faced down villains. You had the invitation of a super secret spy agency. You’re intelligent, capable, witty-

Tony stopped at the front of the steps as the attendants held the door open for the two of you. The entire world was looking at the both of you.

He took your free hand, lifting it to press a careful kiss to the back.

The world might have had the good sense to fade away, if not for the shock that took everyone by storm.

You were all these incredible things, but you had one more.

Turning your hand over you cupped the side of his neck in your palm and leaned up on tiptoe to press a smiling kiss to his cheek.

His grin was charming, pointedly amused. And the only thing you cared about in that moment.

You had Tony Stark. And not a single person could take that away from you.

He made sure to take careful hold of your arm again, almost possessively so, as the two of you ignored the screams from the barred off crowd and headed into the venue. It was cooler inside, something you were grateful for. But there was yet another set of steps to descend into the main ballroom. These people loved this. It was what they lived for. Being looked at. Admired. It was something you usually hated.

But the way the room stilled as the band continued to play, all eyes on the two of you as you descended together arm in arm… maybe there was something to it. Small. Tiny. You’d never admit it. But just maybe.

It was slightly empowering. To have everyone’s attention so easily. Even if it was shock or upset. And even when it would lead to the murmurings and whisperings already happening when the two of you reached the floor. That didn’t matter.

Tony switched to put his arm around your waist, leading you away from the stairs and closer to the bar. “How am I doing so far?”

It wasn’t like you’d discussed a game plan of how to approach this thing. And it didn’t matter. The little bit you had talked about had payed off. Literally everyone in the vicinity knew what was going on. That was what you’d wanted. “Oh. You’re very charming.” If not a little obvious. But that was okay. “What about me?” Glancing up at him with a cheerful smile.

He seemed to melt. “I don’t know if you noticed, but everyone is looking at you.” And in voicing this, the arm around you pulled you just a little bit closer.

“No.” Put off at the mere thought. “It’s you.” As usual. “If it’s me it’s because they’re formulating gossip about how I’m not the right fit.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time everyone else got it wrong.” Warmth in his low tone as he took you to the edge of the bar, relinquishing his hold just so he could take your hand again for another quick kiss to the back. Really laying it on thick tonight. Not that you minded, you found. “Can I get you a drink?”

“God. Yes, please.” Quick to stifle a little laugh at your eagerness. But something to take the edge off those stares was going to be necessary.

He just grinned lightly and then moved to the center of the bar to get the server’s attention. Right about the same time that you somehow found yourself sucked into a vortex that drew you away. You were suddenly in a circle of other women- some of who you knew, although not intimately. In that same way that everyone knew everyone in this world. “Oh- you look so good tonight-”

“It’s nice to see you!”

“How’s the Expo stuff going? We were very sorry to hear what happened-”

All light chitchat nonsense that you would have expected any other night. Things they didn’t really care about. But then, finally, came the question you’d gotten used to hearing. “Did you come with Tony tonight?”

“Oh-” The generic response to that was right on the tip of your tongue. Quick as you had it at the ready at all these events. Generally it was, yes but no not like that. This time, however, for the first and last time now, you put a smile forward that was as genuine as it was calculating. “Yes, we did come together.”

The women all shuffled nervously. “That’s nice.”

“In a separate car I hope!”

“You can keep with us when he gets distracted.”

And then you realized it never would have mattered if you’d said yes before. Because they wouldn’t believe it. Couldn’t, maybe. Couldn’t believe that someone like you would be with someone like him. No matter what had happened. No matter your status. No matter how obvious.

The world had decided you did not belong with Tony Stark. Perhaps not because he was explicitly better than you-

“Excuse me, ladies.” His voice caught everyone’s attention and you saw the stars in their eyes and the droop of their shoulders. The little girlish sighs that escaped.

You didn’t belong with Tony Stark because Tony Stark belonged to the world. Tony Stark belonged to everyone’s fantasies of him. Their idealizations. Their hopes that he’d pick one of them to take home. To bed- and maybe if they were lucky they’d break him in.

You were no such woman. Right? You couldn’t be.

“Hello Tony.”

“Tony you look so good this evening!”

“Did you pick out any art at the showing?”

Crowding around him and effectively shutting you out. Like it was a normal night. This is what would always happen. Because you’d let it. Because once upon a time, a whole lifetime ago now it felt like, Tony Stark didn’t in fact belong to you. You hadn’t had any interest in the idea. So you’d let anyone and everyone take his interest and you’d blend into the wall and talk shop with people who weren’t really listening to you.

But tonight-

“Can we dance?” Asking him softly, ignoring as the women half parted more in their glancing back at you. Like they couldn’t believe you’d ask such a foolish thing.

Tony Stark wanted to stay and chat with the gorgeous women. Not go off with his secretary. But that was life before.

Now, instead, he handed the two fresh drinks he’d only just ordered to the woman standing closest. Who took hold of them as confusion marked her expression. Tony held his hand out to you. “Absolutely.”

You put your hand in his, directing that same smile to the women around you. “Excuse us.” Then let him take you away from the crowd, drawing in a deep breath. “Thanks for the rescue.”

A slow jazzy burn of Dream a Little Dream of Me started to play around you. Tony took your hand in his as you settled your other arm around his neck. His other hand went to your waist. “They giving you a hard time already?”

Your attention turned up to him, finding him looking at you. Only you. A scoff escaped you. “They don’t even care. Or believe me. Apparently I could have been telling these people I’ve been dating you for years. They never would have believed it.”

“So you’re saying we need some sort of grand finale?” His smile was a little mischievous then.

Something you had to put an immediate stop to. Although you were giggling. Just a little. “No. We don’t need to go ham. I don’t… I guess I really don’t care what they think. Or believe.” You’d just wanted to have a night with him to put it out there. But in the end… maybe you just wanted to have a night with him to be with him freely. No more hiding in private villas and behind closed doors.

“Good. Neither do I.”

“No surprises there.”

He grinned. “I’ve never been in the business of giving a damn what other people think about me.”

“Oh you don’t have to tell me that.” How many fires you’d put out for him over the years because of that exact line of thinking.

As he pulled you just a little bit closer, you rested your head on his shoulder. “Then what are we doing here?”

A fine question. If neither of you cared about anyone else or the headlines that would print come tomorrow… “I’m tired of hiding.” You wanted to not have to think about who was watching the two of you when. To not have the office door closed. Or yell at interns. Or make people sign NDAs. Your relationship was not meant to be a burden. Just another thing for you to think and obsess about the optics of.

“Glad to hear it.” His tone was a mere rumble. Something you barely caught just as he stopped swaying with you, taking one of your hands up above your head to slowly twirl you around, and then eased the palm of his hand over the small of your back to get you to lean back as he held you steady. “In that case-”

Not sparing a moment after as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. Chaste. Appropriate for the venue despite how inappropriate it was regardless. Heat struck you, blinding across your cheeks as the room went alight with voices. Shock.

And some minor disgust mixed in for good measure.

You put a wall up and ignored them. Instead easing Tony back from you as you slid a hand up the side of his neck. When he pulled just enough away, he was smirking. “How’s that for a grand finale?”

“We just got here.” To your surprise, you were not embarrassed in the slightest, a smile breaking out across your entire face, giggles escaping, as he helped you upright.

God but you loved this man.

“Leaving parties after ten minutes is kind of my thing.” He seemed absolutely delighted. “But- if you really want to stay. How about a drink? I promise to not give it away this time.”

You disengaged from him, stepping back, from the other couples pretending to dance while watching you, to the wall. Giving him a pat on the arm, “I’ll be right here.” He probably had the right idea, you realized as he was halfway gone. Going back to the hotel room now might have been a very smart thing to do. And as he half leaned on the bar with one arm, handsome and all charm with that grin of his, you realized, yes you really would like to go back to the hotel. So you could climb him like a tree.

“Excuse me.”

Just barely getting out of your sordid thoughts after hearing your name called twice. “Mn?” Looking over at the man who had called you.

“You look absolutely divine this evening. Would you care for a dance?” His hand was held out to you and on social principle you found yourself offering yours in return and letting him lead you away. Breaking out of your self-induced Tony trance to try and put a name to this man’s face.

He was tall, lean, dirty blond hair in a coif, five o’clock shadow, blue eyes- ...did you know this man? “I’m sorry- have we met?” It wouldn’t be entirely unusual for someone you had no direct knowledge of to try and-

“Barely. It’s alright. I won’t take offense.” He was grinning at you. Interrupting your thoughts so easily with that gravel-y tone of his. “I know social climbing is frowned on at these sorts of events, but I was hoping you’d give me a chance.”

His hand on your waist made you uneasy. “A chance?”

“I have a little thinktank that is doing wonders with gene therapy. We heard- well, everyone heard about what happened at the Stark Expo a couple weeks ago. I know there are some people laid up in hospital beds with injuries they may never recover from.” This was like a cold hard slap in the face.

So much so that you stopped moving. “This is a little more than social climbing, Mr.-?”

He smiled gently and nudged you to keep swaying. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to bring up terrible memories. It’s remarkable, the lengths you’re going to to help everyone. To fix things. I was hoping to have a sit down meeting. I think my company could partner with yours and do some extraordinary things. Really help people.”

Gene therapy? That wasn’t exactly a forte of Stark Industries. Was this something worth pursuing? This man was right… some people were going to need more than just money thrown at them to fix what had happened. Something you’d dwelt on for a long time. “What is your company called?” At the very least it was worth sitting down and reading some documents. Doing some research.

“We’re called AIM-”

“Excuse me.” Tony’s voice blessedly cut between the two of you.

“Good to see you, Tony.” The mystery man with a plan grinned at him, taking his hands off you so he could offer one to Tony to shake.

Tony barely looked at him. “Yeah, you too buddy- if I can just cut in here.” Not really asking permission as he handed you your long-stemmed glass and put his now free arm around you, whisking you away.

“Think about it!” The man called out behind you. You gave him an apologetic wave over your shoulder.

But really… you were glad Tony had come to your rescue. “That guy bothering you?”

You took a small sip of your champagne. “No more so than anyone else.”

“You looked uncomfortable.” He stopped near the large double wide glass doors that led out to a perfectly low lit garden.

With a raise of your brows, “Really?” Your work mask had slipped, if that was the case. While you didn’t want people coming up to you and doing what he’d just done, it was more professional to look like it didn’t bother you. Pursing your lips you shook your head. “I just- I don’t wanna talk about work stuff. And he’s like the rest of them.” Trying to get to you to get something out of you.

Really help people.

Hm.

Tony raised his glass and you met it for a little clink. “Here’s to not talking about work stuff.”

You two shared a long sip and then you eased a breath out. Something about this was still bothering you. “I really looked uncomfortable?” That you would have been that unaware of your own expressions-

“Can’t say I blame you. He was eyeing you like a plate of meat and had his hands all over you.”

Ah. Your smile was carefully gentle. “Are you sure you weren’t the one who was uncomfortable?”

“What have I got to worry about?” He arched his brow at you, taking another pointed loud sip of his drink.

To this you nodded. “Absolutely right. So it won’t bother you to know he said I look absolutely divine.” Teasing him just a little. You didn’t want him to worry about stuff like that. The exact opposite of the reason the two of you were here in the first place.

He made a face, rolling his eyes. “Not even a little. Guy’s trying too hard.”

Despite yourself you pursed your lips. “Meaning?”

“Meaning he was laying it on thick.” Finishing his drink in one more sip, he set it on a low table nearby and turned to you. Tipping your chin up with the crook of his index finger, he proved himself right. “You look beautiful.”

Because where absolutely divine had no affect at all, those three little words from Tony set your heart to hammering. Or maybe it was the look he was giving you. The softness of those warm brown eyes. Or how close he was. All you knew was you couldn’t stop the dazed smile from appearing. There was really only one thing you could say to that. “Let’s leave.”

His smirk reappeared. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Thirty Five