#went with a black velvet painting inspired look with this one

[wrekrom]

she’s a lady, and ladies shouldn’t be messed with 🪭

do not repost, edit, or use my art in any way ⭐️ lady bow belongs to nintendo

#my art #fanart #mario #super mario #paper mario #paper mario 64 #lady bow #paper mario lady bow #went with a black velvet painting inspired look with this one

[roguehongsami]

Velvet Crowbar | Pt. 3

pairing/s: rockstar!wooyoung x fem!couturier

genre/s: smut, fluff, au

synopsis: 1995. it's been 12 years since you left kialecombe. wooyoung tracks you down, desperate to get you back before your wedding.

content: cheating, unprotected sex (condomize), fingering, oral sex, creampie, (sprinkled)nostalgia.

word count: 3.5k

navigation: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

masterlist here

"Hey, we're Bloodhound and you're not." the man spoke arrogantly, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Y/N switched off the television. Her focus was on the rough sketch she had been working on for a week. The deadline was approaching and she couldn't afford to miss it. It was slowly coming together but still didn't feel right. She let out an exasperated sigh and dropped her pencil on the table. She pushed away from the desk and spun around in her chair, taking in the view of the city skyline. She needed inspiration.

And inspiration she was going to get.

[ . . . ]

"These are the newest addition to the brand." the saleswoman gestured enthusiastically with her hands as she held the shoe. "A suede finish with the brand initials in gold as the heels. It comes in five different colours. What makes this heel special, is that it is the first shoe the CEO has ever designed in her entire career. She primarily focuses on clothing."

Yeosang nodded, having found the perfect gift for his wife. "I'd like them in a size four."

The saleswoman smiled. She instructed Yeosang to wait by the counter, as she went into the storage room to get a box of size four's. She returned with a black box, gold 'Archibald Scott' lettering on top.

Yeosang turned around and called. "Wooyoung, come on."

Wooyoung, who sat on the couch while Yeosang was shopping, walked over and stood beside him. His eye caught the miniature display on the counter. The woman in the picture posing with a bottle of perfume. Her face painted with a nude makeup look, and her nails manicured and decorated with red nail polish. He took the display into his hand, studying the woman's face.

It was now or never.

[ . . . ]

Y/N stepped out of the elevator, heels clinking against the floor tiles as she descended down the steps and marched to her office. No inspiration acquired but only a handbag in hand. Eyes focused on the door that created a buffer between her and the employees, behind came her assistant trying to match her pace.

"There's someone in your office. I told them you're not to be disturbed but they wouldn't–"

Y/N interrupted Cassidy. "That's okay, Cass. You can take the rest of the day off, I think I'm gonna clock off early."

Cassidy stopped in her tracks and returned to her desk. Y/N stood in front of her office door, opening it as her feet led her in. Behind her desk stood a man with black hair, held back by sunglasses. He sported a black leather jacket, black denim jeans and Nike Jordan's. Hands pocketed in his jacket. As she was about to speak, closing the door behind her, he turned around.

The air in the room suddenly became thin, almost losing her breath. "Woo?"

Wooyoung gave her a meek smile. "You are not the same girl I met in '83." he chuckled to himself. "Got time to catch up?"

She stood silently in the middle of the room, unable to move. Unable to find the words to speak. Something in her head suddenly clicked, as if she found the answer to a big question she had been asking herself. Wooyoung moved away from the desk and inched closer to her. As she came out of her trance, she instructed him to sit.

"How have you been doing? It's been a while."

"Twelve years." she whispered, unable to look him in the eye. "I've been doing okay. Just working. What about you? I see things worked out after Velvet Crowbar."

He bowed his head. "I went over to your house after I woke up from my OD. Nurses told me you were the one who found me. When I got there, your mom said you left Kialecombe for good. No matter how much I begged her to, she wouldn't tell me where you moved to. I just wanted to thank you." he looked her in eye. "You gave me a second chance."

"I'm sure anybody would've done the same if they found you." she spoke modestly.

"Yeah, I had nobody after I got kicked out of VC." he let out a shaky breath. "A second too late, I would've died in that room."

She dropped her head, a frown materializing across her face. The image of his unconscious body was still fresh in her memory. The relief she felt when her mother notified her of his condition. Since then, she had solely focused on school and work. Over the years, she saw him on TV. She knew their separation was for the best, she just needed the reassurance that he was doing fine.

He lifted her chin up. "I'm here now, thanks to you." he smiled boyishly. "I couldn't see myself stuck in Kialecombe forever, so I got clean and stayed clean. You remember Yeosang?"

"Dude with the lisp? Always bothered me how he'd say my surname." her eyebrows creased. "He plays drums in your band, right?"

"Yeah, he dropped his nine-to-five when the band finally took off. How'd you know that?"

She gave him a small smile. "I saw you on Headbangers Ball and Unplugged. Bloodhound really gives a good show."

"You listen to my band?" with genuine surprise in his tone.

She playfully shoved his shoulder. "Shut up, Woo. You always knew I was your biggest fan. How'd you even find me?"

"We came to Blue Coast for a break before we resume our tour. I was at one of your stores with a friend– I don't get why you didn't name the brand after yourself." he arched his eyebrows.

"My dad's name has an old money flair to it." she shrugged.

"I found the headquarters' number in the yellow pages, they told me where the big boss can be found."

The tension in the atmosphere eased. His eye caught the white diamond ring on her finger. His heart sank, afraid that he had actually lost her for good. All the work he had put into bettering himself was partially for his own benefit, but mostly so he could be the man Y/N deserved.

He pointed at the rock. "So, who's the lucky guy?"

She looked at the ring and as she was about to speak, her door opened. Her attention now directed to the man entering her office. Wooyoung turned his head, and the look on the man's face replaced with a distasteful one. Wooyoung and Y/N both stood from the couch. Instead of jealousy, Wooyoung was confused. It seems his words never stuck with Y/N as much as he thought they would.

"Wooyoung?" he spoke with an exasperated tone.

"Bradford." Wooyoung deigned, visibly unimpressed.

Y/N walked over to Brady's side and held onto his arm. "Brady and I are getting married in three weeks." she spoke hesitantly.

“I see…” Wooyoung sighed as he shook his head disapprovingly. “It was nice seeing you again, Y/N. I’ll make sure to say goodbye before going back on tour. Also, congratulations.”

Wooyoung strutted past Brady, bumping into his shoulder. He exited the office and once out of earshot, Brady casted Y/N a cold look. She merely rolled her eyes, aware of exactly what he was thinking. Her hands fell from his arm as she walked to her desk. She packed her designs into a cylindrical drawing holder. Handbag in hand and drawing holder nestled under her arm, she beelined to the door.

Brady blocked her path and looked down on her. “What was he doing here?”

“He found my office. Apparently, he was at one of my stores.” she pointed at the door. “Can we go home?”

He made way for her and as she continued her path, he reached for her wrist. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her eyes glanced at his hand then his face. “There’s nothing going on between me and Woo.”

Another late night spent in the office. Lights at every floor were off. From the street, the only lights that shone were on her floor. Office quiet as a grave, all that could be heard was the sound of birds squawking and the occasional helicopter making its nightly rounds around the city.

Slumped back in her chair, head rested against the back and arms laid on the armrest, she felt defeated. Her deadline was fast–approaching and she still had no designs to submit for the next season's line. The sound of nothing was slowly driving her mad. Her frustration worsening, wondering why she did not stick with handling office affairs.

A knock on the door startled her. She sat upright, waiting to hear if there would be another. A slightly more forceful knock followed. She got up from her desk and as she approached the door, she took the baseball bat by the couch. Another knock. As she unlocked the door, turning the knob, she brought the bat over her shoulder.

When she opened the door, there stood Wooyoung holding a paper bag full of takeaways. "I didn't know what you'd want, so I got everything..." he said with bewilderment written all over his face.

Y/N sighed a breath of relief as she stepped away from the door.

"Were you gonna use that on me?" he asked.

She locked the door and followed him to her desk. "You said you had late rehearsals."

He sat in her chair, setting aside her drawings and unpacking the food. "I finished at seven and came by. Saw your lights were on, so I left to go get food." he shrugged. "You had dinner yet?"

She tossed the bat on the couch and sat on the desk, beside Wooyoung. "I haven't eaten since morning."

After getting cornered by Brady, Wooyoung knew he could not see Y/N without her fiancé intercepting every meeting. He acquired her personal number from Cassidy, the assistant. It took a lot of convincing before she gave in. Since then, they had been meeting only when she worked late nights. Brady was completely in the dark.

Oblivious, Y/N was under the impression that he just wanted to catch up. They only had regular conversations about normal things, with Wooyoung occasionally asking about her future with Brady. An unintentional slip of the tongue informed Wooyoung that her relationship wasn't as exciting as it was in the beginning, and that she hoped that getting married would liven things up.

Her mishap was his ticket back in.

"Any luck with your designs?" he said, rubbing her bare knee.

She shook her head.

He planted his hands on her thighs, his head bowed down. "Most people revisit their past when they need inspiration."

He looked up to meet her eyes. She took in a deep breath and released a shaky one. Something about that statement did not sit well with her. It wasn't the literal sentence, but its insinuation. He inched closer to her face, standing between her legs. She leaned back a bit to create distance. His hands on her lower back, he reeled her back in.

Trailing kisses along her jaw to her neck, her body stiffened. Too conflicted to make a decision. What she wants or what she deserves? He was pushing her to choose the former. Slow steady breaths to calm her nerves. She needed to bring herself back down to earth and buck up. She grabbed his arms and as she began pushing him, his grip around her waist tightened.

He leaned into her ear and chimed, "When was the last time you and Brady had sex?" he pulled back to see her face. "Don't be shy, tell me."

Flustered, her hands fell to the table. In a whisper, she said, "Two months ago."

It wasn't the wedding planning. It wasn't her job. She had not been in the mood for a while. Aphrodisia was second nature to her and its absence was dispiriting. Unable to pinpoint the source of her sexual stupor, she just chalked it up to age. She just didn't have it like she used to, maybe.

He glanced down at her engagement ring. His hand stroked her arm, eventually sliding the ring off and tucking it away in her desk drawer. Lips locked with one another and inhibitions cast away, she gave in. She knew it was wrong but it's easier to beg for forgiveness than to actually dig for the actual problem and abate it. His hands slid under her skirt and tugged at the hems of her underwear.

Breaking the kiss, he said, "You know I still-"

"Don't." she cut him off. "I'm getting married in two weeks, don't make this any more complicated than it already is."

Reluctantly, he obliged, seizing the conversation. He pulled off her underwear. Separating her folds, he slid one finger in. Thrusting in and out. She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her head back. He went down on his knees, her legs thrown over his shoulders and hands gripping her thighs, he lapped her up and tickled her bud with his tongue. A breathy moan filled the room.

As his pace increased, he stretched her out to get her ready. Three fingers and ten minutes later, the sound of Wooyoung slurping and Y/N cursing between moans was all that could be heard. He stood up and brought her into a kiss. Her hands were fumbling with his belt but she eventually undid it. He unbuttoned her blouse and unclasped the front of her bra, freeing her breasts.

She pulled his jacket and shirt off, throwing them on the ground. Her lips left trails of wet kisses all over his chest, suckling and nibbling at the skin on his neck. Rouge materialising. He dropped his pants as they pooled around his legs. She went in for a kiss. As he slid into her, she moaned into his mouth. A proud grin forming on his lips. He started with soft, slow thrusts. Easing her into the moment. As he picked up speed and force, he laid her on her back.

His fingers toying with her bud, her brain was fogging. She could not recall the last time she enjoyed sex this much. It had become a chore. Her hands toyed with her breasts, Wooyoung removing her hands from her chest.

"Let me watch..." he spoke, breathlesly.

Sweat beads were forming on his forehead, a combination of their bodies radiating and the raised summer temperatures. One leg over his shoulder and another around his waist, he reached in to grab the back of her neck.

"He doesn't fuck you this good, does he?" he grunted, smacking the side of her thigh.

"Brady could never." she lambasted in a moan.

Wooyoung suddenly stopped. He brought her to her feet then bent her over the desk. With one leg on the desk, he went back in. At this angle, silence was not a given. Moans mixed with cries, and grunts mixed with groans. They could only wish for this to go on forever. Consistent with the pace, he pulled off her blouse and bra. Her hands pressed firm against the desk surface for balance, he toyed with her nipples as he nipped the skin on her shoulder.

She clamped around him, feeling pressure build up in her stomach. How she missed that knotting sensation. He felt the squeeze of his cock, making him move erratically inside her. The warmth and friction of it all drove him to unadulterated insanity. He held her bare back flush against his chest, needing every bit of skin contact he could acquire.

"Woo, faster." she moaned, one hand on the desk and the other holding on to his neck.

Not a second later, he was thrusting as fast as he could. They braced themselves for a simultaneous release, it was fast-approaching. Both came undone. Wooyoung was thrusting all the discharge deep inside her until he stilled. His head rested on her shoulder, catching a breath, and her head hung. He slowly pulled out of her, bits of cum sliding down her thigh. He grabbed a tissue from her desk, and wiped her down.

They got dressed in silence. Not an awkward one. They were reflecting on where their relationship went wrong, and how they got to that point. The chemistry was still there, but so were obstacles. Y/N felt as if she had a promise to fulfill with her engagement. She couldn't turn back now. And Wooyoung, nothing he could say would change her mind. She was determined to walk down that aisle.

What she deserved outweighed what she desired.

Yet she expressed no remorse for what she had just done.

"Just think about what I said, okay?" he pecked her on the lips. "Revisit the past."

[ . . . ]

After spending the whole night in the office, no ideas coming to light, she stepped into her penthouse. She put her handbag down on the kitchen island. Brady's gym bag was still in the kitchen. She went on a path to her bedroom. In her walk-in closet, she found an old miniature chest with memorabilia. She sat on the bed as she went through some of the artifacts.

Her late father's watch.

Her mother's locket, which was passed down to her by her mother, Mrs. Rhodes.

Polaroids of her adolescent days. At the country club with her parents. Making clothes in the atelier. Moments of her dancing on tables and headbanging. Sitting on the roof of an abandoned bus with Murphy and Seonghwa. Her and Wooyoung wearing battle vests and matching Judas Priest tees at a show, their first date. She took a few more moments looking.

Truly the happiest time of her life.

She left the open chest and polaroids on the bed, stepping into the bathroom for a shower. As the water ran, Brady came in and took note of the items on the bed. He picked up the polaroids and studied the one with Wooyoung. Aggravated that she would keep it, he counted to a hundred in his head to calm himself.

Freshly cleaned, she returned and saw Brady holding her belongings. "Morning sweetie. How'd you sleep?"

He mustered up a halfhearted smile. "Just fine but the bed felt empty without you." he leaned in for a kiss. "What are these?"

"Stuff from high school. I think I know what my next line is gonna be."

She went to bed after chitchatting with Brady, getting some shut-eye before resuming her work. She spent the day at home, drawing multiple designs. They all came so easy. Late afternoon and already down to seven designs. She stopped once she felt she had enough ideas and packed her drawings into the holder.

At any moment, Brady was going to step into their home. Dinner was prepared and the table was set. She changed into a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants. Watching the television, the elevator announced Brady's arrival as he stepped out. Sauntering to the couch and pecking her on the forehead, he greeted her and went off to change.

At the dinner table, Brady put forward, "So, where's your ring?"

Y/N choked on her broth. "Oh..." she wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked down at her hand. "It kept getting caught in my blouse so I put it in my drawer." she looked him in the eye. "It's at work."

Her heart was thumping violently against her chest. A momentary lapsus memoriae, nearly outing her. She was lucky to be able to come up with an excuse so fast. The last time she was cornered, the lie got caught in her throat and found herself stuttering a single letter.

Brady nodded and continued eating his food. Eventually, they cleared the dinner table. Cuddled on the couch watching Universal Soldier. Y/N drifted off to sleep on Brady's chest. The phone on the coffee table rang. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

"Yes?" he spoke.

"Hey Bradford, are you busy, like right now?" the woman on the other end said.

"Hey Pari, what's up?"

"I have something you need to see. Come to my office, immediately." the line died.

Brady was careful not to wake her, laying her down on the couch and propping her head up with pillows. He got dressed and rushed out of the penthouse. His car was parked outside the Blue Coast Times office. He signed in at reception and stood in the elevator, waiting to reach the top floor. He reached Pari's door. A silver plate me this eyes; Pari Yadav – Editor In Chief.

He knocked on the door twice before Pari opened. She instructed him to sit as she sat across from him. On her desk was a brown envelope. She slid it over to him. His eyebrows creased down the middle, glancing at the envelope then at Pari.

"What is this?" he spelled out as he opened the envelope.

Inside, there were multiple pictures. His eyes studied every picture intently, soaking up the events captured. He sighed, disappointed but not surprised. It was the most defeated he had ever felt. Quick to wipe away the tears that had fallen on his cheeks, he put the pictures back in the envelope. He knew if he went ahead with their pending marriage, he'd always be second priority.

Pari leaned forward in her chair. "I won't run the story. Nobody needs to know about this, I'll tell my journalists to back off."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, Pari. But I think I have a better idea." he released a deep breath. "What are you doing on the eighteenth?"

taglist (green highlight = can't tag):

@tinybada @yeosangsbbg @staytiny816

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PART 4, READ HERE.

#ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #roguehongsami

[rebelfell]

One last Halloween blurb inspired by @superblysubpar and her unbelievable series We’ll Call it Love. I’m convinced that modern!Eddie would be a punny Halloween guy without fail (assuming he wasn’t dressing up with you 😘) 18+ MDNI

“Wait, you’re a what? I don’t get it.”

Eddie sighed heavily at Jeff’s blank stare as he plopped down his guitar case, the last bit of what all he and the band had to lug into the bar. The opener was on now, which meant they only had maybe thirty minutes before they had to be ready to haul their equipment out on stage and get set up. Four bands were playing at this party tonight, but Corroded Coffin was slated to go on third—which basically meant they were headlining.

Or at least headlining adjacent.

The band, much like the rest of his friends, much like the rest of this damn city, didn’t “get” his costume. So far tonight, he’d been met with nothing but a string of perplexed expressions, furrowed brows and pursed lips and slow blinks as they tried to decipher what he was going for.

At least he had a real costume and hadn’t gone along with the rest of the band’s plan to hit up a Spirit Halloween and overpay for shitty grease paint and rubbery prosthetics. Gareth’s face was streaked green and his hair was slicked back so he looked like something that vaguely resembled a zombie. Or a very, very discounted Elphaba. 

Jeff was just “guy with a knife in his head” and Lloyd was fucking late—which was the exact same costume he wore almost every day.

Eddie’s outfit might have been confusing, but at least it wasn’t boring. And, yeah, maybe it was kind of a reach. But he didn’t think it was that much of a head scratcher.

He’d teased up his hair so it was bigger and more wild than normal, and he’d added a pair of fake wolf ears he had from…a different costume. From a very different party. He’d let his beard grow out until it was short and scruffy and then whitened it with baby powder, which was also gonna be real nice when he started sweating buckets under those stage lights.

For clothes, he’d borrowed Steve’s letterman jacket under which he wore a white dress shirt and a blue tie, and topped it off with square black rimmed glasses. He’d also dappled some brown eyeshadow from Nancy on the backs of his hands to make it look like they were hairy. The effect was pretty impressive, especially coupled with some beige press-on nails he used for claws.

He looked fucking great and it had yet to be acknowledged by anyone. Philistines.

“Whatever, man,” Eddie groaned. “I’m gonna get a beer and maybe you guys will have found some damn culture by the time I get back!”

He pushed through the curtain blocking off the area behind the stage from the rest of the bar and jumped down off the low platform, still calling out to Jeff over his shoulder.

“And text Lloyd, tell him I’m gonna wring his—”

Eddie’s threat dwindled into a grunt as he banged into someone. Hard. So hard that he stumbled and only just barely managed to stay upright. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for his target. They were off to the side of the stage, at least. No chance of being trampled. Most of the crowd was still milling around the bar and only a handful were actually up front already. Probably friends or family members of the band currently screaming their way through a cover of Thriller.

A flurry of shapes and color blurred his vision as he whipped his head around upon colliding with whoever had the bad luck to step in his path. Glass shattered and the sound made him wince as he looked down at the heap of limbs in front of him. Rather nice looking limbs, he noted.

“Fuck, fuck. Are you okay? I’m so sorry—shit.”

He quickly knelt down and scrambled to help the poor girl back on her feet. She was in a shiny red velvet cape draped over a dress with a black satin skirt and Eddie had to tear his eyes away from staring at the expanse of her fishnet-covered thighs revealed by her costume riding up. As she stood, his eyes went wide at the sight of her and not just because she was kiiiiiiind of a total smoke show. In addition to bright eyes and a nice smile, there was a massive gash on her face with blood dribbling down her temple. This was no Spirit Halloween bullshit—this looked real.

Painfully real.

“Oh, shit! Fuck me, did I do that?” he asked, panic rising in his voice.

“Huh? Oh! No, no, not at all!”

She laughed and the sound came out pretty melodious considering she was hemorrhaging. Eddie watched in horror as she reached up a hand and touched it to the gooey looking wound, only to reveal her fingers were sparkling clean when she pulled them away.

“It’s not real, I did it myself,” she said. “I take it as a compliment you thought it was, though.”

“Shit, yeah—you should, sweetheart!” 

He stared blatantly at the wound, partlybecause it was fascinating and partly because he was afraid if he looked in her eyes for too long he might drown in them.

“You did that yourself?” he whistled. “It looks disgusting.”

Her lips twitched slightly as she tried (and failed) not to smirk at him. Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose as he registered what he had just said. Smooth, Munson. Smooth as cottage cheese.

“I, uh, I meant…it’s impressive, you know? It’s really good. That’s no Spirit Halloween bullshit.”

She grinned at that and tilted her head to the side. “Thanks,” she said, a little pride rising in her voice. “I do special effects make-up for a living. I did this as a test for this indie horror flick and I liked how it came out, so I wanted to reuse it.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed. “That’s pretty fucking metal. It looks so real. Can I, uh…”

He trailed off, realizing just a second too late how awkward what he’d been about to ask was. He didn’t know of any hard and fast rule about this, but he kind of figured asking to fondle a perfect stranger's fake wound was verboten by the Miss Manners Guide to Halloween.

This girl didn’t seem phased in the least, though. She smiled again and tipped her chin up, staring boldly into his eyes. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You can touch it. I won’t bite.”

You won’t, but I sure might.

Eddie had to swallow hard to stop the line from bursting from his lips. He carefully reached out his hand to brush it along her forehead. Ugh, it even felt real. That was sick. He loved it.

Heart hammering in his chest, he traced the shape of the gash with his fingertips and let them trail gently down the side of her face as he followed a rivulet of fake blood that dripped down to her chin. His fingers tingled wherever they met her skin and he was so caught up in the feeling, he forgot for a second he was wearing press-on nails and was now stroking her face with them. Cheeks tinged fiercely pink, he retracted his hand and cleared his throat nervously.

“So you’re…Red Riding Hood?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “After the wolf got me.”

Eddie chanced a glance down at the rest of her costume, hoping it didn’t look like he was ogling her. He was, a little, but only like 20%.

Okay, 30%.

It appeared she’d taken the basic outfit and accessories from a party store and modified them—adding rips and tears to her clothes, streaking them with dirt and fake blood, even placing a couple twigs in her hair like she’d just been chased through the woods. There was some bruising painted on her and another impressively realistic looking set of claw marks raked across her chest. Her rather lovely chest…

He jerked his head up, cheeks even more flushed after realizing his eyes had lingered just a little too long. She didn’t seem to mind though.

“So…are you here with someone?” she asked with a quick glance around. Her voice was low and heady, there was no mistaking her intentions.

“No, no one,” Eddie said hurriedly. “Just friends, I mean.”

And in probably the worst show of judgment since that double shot of tequila he'd done at Nancy’s, Eddie chose that exact moment to look up and search for his friends in the crowd. It was easy to do, he could see Robin at the bar waiting for a drink. And when he glanced further back, he was pretty sure that was Steve making his way over dressed as…oh no. Oh no, no no.

Ozzy help him, this was gonna be a long night.

Eddie brought his gaze back to Red, his eyes now big and round with worry. “I, ahhh…shit, I have to go?” he said. “I can’t really explain right now. But my band is playing later—are you staying?” 

He prayed to the Halloween gods and all that was unholy she was. She nodded, giving him a little wink that actually made his knees shake. 

“I’ll be here,” she said. “Unless another big bad wolf gets me.”

“Okay…good.” 

Eddie’s voice deepened and he flashed a sly smile, channeling all the wolfish energy he could from his costume. With a decisive nod, he jumped into action, hoping he wouldn’t have to do too much damage control. And concerned as he was, he couldn’t help beaming at the last words called out to him as he made his way through the crowd.

“See you around, Teen Wolf Blitzer!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff

[wantonrowls]

I don't know if I should be angry or turned on

inspired by Where you truly belong by missdreamshade. read it here:

"Happy Birthday Y/N!" Your friends shouted as you leaned closer to blow the candle. It was your birthday and you are celebrating with your two closest friends at a small karaoke.

"C'mon what did you wished for?" you shyly smiled at your friend "I can't think of anything else to wish for, I mean I have you guys at my special day so I just wished that this day won't end"

"Aww! Y/N! that's too cheesy urghhh hahaha!" as your friend wiggles her hands and the three of you laughed. After eating the cake and singing some songs, mostly OSTs of your fave shows, you parted ways with your friends

"Y/N, we'll see you tomorrow! Happy Birthday!"

"Yeah Y/N! we can go to the X amusement park tomorrow! Happy Birthday!"

"Yeah! OMG I'm so excited! see you guys tomorrow! thanks for joining me on my birthday!" After exchanging goodbyes you went on to catch your bus at the stop.

You plugged in your earphones to watch the videos recorded from earlier, your friend was singing to the famous Celine Dion song while the other was hugging your friend from behind mimicking that particular Titanic scene and you were laughing in the background while filming them.

It took you a while to notice the man beside you, he faced the other direction when you saw him and he was chuckling softly, you paused the video and removed one of the bud on your ear

"I'm sorry why were you laughing at me?" he didn't looked at you at first as you saw him wiping his eyes from the reflection at the bus stop and then he turned his head to face you, hands still on the pockets of his hoodie

"Oh I'm sorry I can't help it, you just look beautiful when you laugh"

"Uhm...okay..." you turned off your phone and put it back on your pocket. He noticed you were weirded out by his sentence and he quickly stood up from the seat

"Please don't be weirded out I'm just infected by your laugh"

"It's just odd to me...Of course I don't know who you are"

"I'm Felix by the way" he offered his hand as he patiently waited for you to shake his hands. You were tad nervous as you were praying for the bus to come faster leaning at the road thinking to yourself that if a bus comes you will sprint inside. Meanwhile, the guy infront of you is still waiting for you to accommodate his greeting,

"You aren't gonna shake my hands Y/N?"

You were shocked at the moment. Managing to look up to the guy, his hands is still in the air and when your eyes met he shoots you with a sinister-like smile.

"Aight fine, I lied. I already know you. I even know it's your birthday today, Y/N"

"W-who are y-..." Before you can finish the sentence a handkerchief is already suffocating you from behind, the strong scent coming from it knocking you out instantly just enough to visually see Felix catching you before you hit the ground

You sat up immediately when you woke up, remembering most of the things that happened last night right before you got knocked out on the ground and Felix was-...

Yeah where is that guy? And where's my phone?

You looked around the room, Most of the interiors are painted in black even the bedsheet and the pillow you were sleeping into is in velvet black. You stood up and went to the door silently turning the knob, heart throbbing hoping no one will caught you and escape from this place. You successfully opened the door and creeped outside the room, to your surprise everywhere you look theres a similar door from where you came from. Almost tiptoeing while browsing outside, you noticed a huge stairway going down. Before you could go down you bumped onto two huge guys in a suit, the both of them looking mad at you

"Felix won't like it that his doll wants to escape"

"Yeah he won't"

"He wouldn't want to know that this happened"

"Exactly"

With their small conversation they instantly picked you up from your feet, the other picking you up on his shoulder while you struggle to land a punch on his back

They walked down the stairway onto a huge oak door, the other opens the door and the other lets you fall on the ground, the two bowed before closing the door leaving you inside, when you turned around the commotion inside the room turned silent, scanning the room and then noticing Felix in the middle of the long wood table, eyes fixated at you, his chin is clenched and his brows are furrowed, his men still looking towards you

"C'mere" Without no choice left you turned your head down while walking towards his seat his eyes glued onto you when you reached him his arms opens motioning you to sit on his lap and you obeyed awkwardly sitting at the end of his lap and he pulls you closer to his thighs hands roaming onto your waist his head resting onto your neck as you feel his lips onto your skin your breathing hitched when he suddenly sucks a small portion of the skin his hands still roaming from your waist onto your stomach as he feels how your body is tense from the sensation

He distanced his face away just enough to notice one of his men looking at the sight of your bare thighs in uniform skirt

"Beautiful isn't she?" while he twirls a finger at your hair teasingly, the man nodded slowly and Felix smirks, his hand went down the gun loosely on his pants

"Alright listen up, I wanna make this fast" he points the gun at the man "This is to anyone who wants to look at what's mine"

BANG

You jumped from his lap and immediately covered your ears and shut your eyes. When you opened your eyes, the man fell on his seat with a hole on the middle of his forehead his blood splattered onto the males seated beside him and some caught on Felix's face. He returns his gun on the side of his pants and continues to suck onto your neck like nothing happened, he trails peppering kisses from the crook of your neck onto your tear streaked cheeks and stops when he meets your eyes

"I know what you were trying to do Y/N and I'll deal with you later. Just so you know, everything that happened here was because of you" he whispers in your ear "Now if you don't wanna end up like him, I want you to go back to my room and we'll talk later, understood?" He looks at you waiting for a response and you cannot help but sob then and there. His eyes went from exasperated to dearly as he watches you cry hard uncontrollably. He can't help himself but get a hard on just by looking at your helpless state

"I don't know if I should be angry or turned on, Y/N"

#skz #stray kids #lee felix #felix smut #felix imagines #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz headcanons #skz yandere #skz mafia au #skz angst #skz felix #skz imagines #skz kpop #skz lix #skz oneshots #skz writing #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #skz x stay #skz yongbok

[meat-wentz]

i saw your post about gerard/costumes and just wanted to say it made me emotional and stuff kthxbye. i was wondering if you were comfortable elaborating on some of the costume parties you went to? they sound so cool and i wanna know what theme warranted a machine gun cheerleader.

omg!!!! ty and also i’d love to go over some of the most iconic ones, most of them are already in that post, but i’ll go over them in more depth:

the extra party: theme was extra af, this was a bday party for me entirely because i wanted to dress as a glitter cowboy. backless champagne strappy mini dress, layered with rhinestone gold mesh bra and rhinestone choker, gold cowboy hat with a tiara, pink velvet heels. there was a lot of fur and a lot of wigs at this party. had a gold glitter banner that said “happy bday cunt” which is still one of my favorite things i’ve ever custom ordered.

trashy lingerie party against capitalism: commonly known as lingerie party 1. exactly what it sounds like. at my friend’s parent’s house. the only chaser was one (1) purple gatorade that was already spiked and soy sauce. there was a lot of hooking up and a 6 person orgy in my friend’s parent’s bed. it was a legendary party but also a total shit show. pretty standard bra, panties, garter belt, thigh highs and heels. followed by lingerie party 2: the squeakquel, impromptu lingerie party, the red white and blue lingerie party, and the “dress to get screwed” party (very fun i had a belt around my throat that we used as a leash for multiple guests).

a very greasy homecoming: greaser/50’s inspired party complete with a rockabilly band that played on the porch, everyone had leather jackets and greased hair and switchblade combs. i wore a gunne sax pink strapless dress complete with tulle skirt and ruffled sweetheart neckline black flats and a leather jacket.

neonoir ((party)): a decadent neon night complete with all blue, pink, and red lighting and an insane playlist. i went full hotline miami in a letterman jacket, pig mask and baseball bat. there was a full sized glow in the dark skeleton in the bathroom (a recurring guest, his name is skelly, also married to the other recurring guest, a graffitied full sized mannequin without arms or a head named manny).

historical drag party: i don’t know what i even went as it was so long ago but i do remember that my friend came as edgar allen hoe and looked so like edgar allen poe that i nearly died. they had a raven and everything. i don’t even remember anyone else’s costumes.

different ways to die party: my 20th birthday and my favorite theme, probably the most poppin off party i’ve ever hosted. i painted bruises around my neck. my friend made me a miami vice werewolf cake. various costumes included: shark attack, struck by lightning, gunshots, slit throats, generally bloody and bashed. was a fuckin banger of a party, very cathartic.

the lcd soundsystem funeral party: a going away party for a friend. everyone wore black suits with skinny ties. i wore a black dress. we listened to lcd soundsystem all night. gradually dissolved until i almost walked face first into someone lighting hairspray on fire for fun. end of an era party.

alien pajama party: like it says. i still carry around a little alien toy in my jacket pocket because it’s lived in there since this party.

21st holy communion: double bday party/christening a new party house. wore a veil and a slip dress. ate vodka gummy bears from a giant bowl. insanely packed party, lots of randos (due to house location). notable for chairs breaking, the biggest after party slumber party, biggest hangover clean up crew, no sleep till brooklyn, and a friend voluntarily getting shot in the ass with a blow dart in the driveway.

hedonist party: roman/greek gods and goddesses party. i was mercury and had wings on my sandals and a little white tennis outfit i thought it was cute. lots of wine.

a very twin peaks party: we drank coffee and ate pie and had baguettes with butter and brie, dressed up and watched a bunch of twin peaks all day. this is actually different than when i was laura palmer (boy meets christmas 90’s television party), i was bobby briggs for this party it was a big gender moment for me.

old hollywood spooktacular: not a very successful theme i was primarily the only person dressed to occasion everyone else was just gothy. 19th bday. i have spoken about this before but my crush didn’t show up so i spent most of this party openly crying in front of all my guests and someone had gifted me a vibrating cock ring as a joke and i tied my hair up with it on vibrate while sobbing my little heart out. very iconic moment for me. it’s my party and i’ll cry if i want to swag.

internet royalty party: me and a couple friends were tumblr famous at this point in time so we had an internet royalty party to gas up our shitty little egos. took a shot every time someone walked through the door, ended up plastered in the first ten minutes, apparently i held a class on how to smoke cigarettes outside, had to be carried to the car.

sticker and glitter party: lmao we were washing out the glitter from our hair for months. i got a temporary glitter tat on my chest that didn’t completely go away for like 3 weeks and i had to go to class with it. the carpet never recovered.

80s christmas goth night: i went as an 80s goth marie antoinette with fishnets, velvet shorts, full black lace bustle train, velvet corset, and shoulder padded black blazer with white face makeup, pink cheeks, bottom eyeliner straight out to the edge of my face, and little black lips like a doll, piled all my hair up and had chains hanging from it. i gave a friend a lap dance to santa baby.

and finally: nye and halloween parties were kind of our fucking thing, the two biggest nights of the year. so machine gun cheerleader actually started out as an assassination nation costume but no one had seen the movie yet (it had come out the month before) so i changed it around to machine gun cheerleader. i have also been nurse 3d (at an event we call: shitshow halloween, literally so bad for every person there for entirely separate reasons), hellboy (my best costume to date), the attic bride from haunted mansion complete with a glowing beating red heart in my dress, jennifer check, most recently joan of arc which was an under appreciated costume imo. nye typically has a theme of extravagance but the only all out theme we’ve ever done was new year’s feve which was a disco party because my roommate and i had just watched saturday night fever and really vibed.

notable mentions: 2012 end of the world rapture party, big hair, various drag parties, hell, bad trip, murder mystery, the annual lotr marathon (we have to start at like noon), goth princess, century icons, end of the semester zombie party, scene kid karaoke, oh god i feel like there’s more but alas my memory hath failed me after close to 8 years of parties.

THIS WAS REALLY FUN THANK YOU ANON I JUST TOOK A CRAZY WALK DOWN MEMORY LANE.

#anon #long post #mentions: #tw alcohol #tw substance abuse #tw gore

[novaflair]

pairing: suna x f!reader // cw: fluff, drabble // wc: 356

Rintaro Suna did not pursue college after the two of you graduated high school and he decided to go pro. You did though, and a Bachelor’s at that. And even though you knew it would be hard, dating a pro-athlete while juggling all your class requirements is actually a lot harder than you thought. And during the hardest moments, you sometimes think that if only he went to college with you, shit could have been a lot easier, and you’d even have this romantic campus love story you’ll tell your children’s children one day.

But you were supportive of his choices, and so was he with yours. So despite the lack of quality time, and the bubbling insecurities (from both of you– as you just hate his flirty fans, and he worries sometimes that one day you might leave him for a higher educated man), you and Suna made it work.

Years passed and he’s sitting with the audience in semi-formal attire, looking dashing as hell, and he watches you walk through the stage with the proudest smile on his face. He admires how you look in your blue dress and black toga, and despite the light makeup on, to him you look like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Suna has been with you through it all– through the breakdowns and late night studying, encouraging you while he hands you your nth cup of coffee at 2 in the morning. And you were with him through the wins, and the losses, and you cheer him on the loudest to overpower his obnoxious fangirls, wearing his Inarizaki jersey instead of an EJP one because it’s one-of-a-kind and only you have the honor of wearing it, while having the Raijin team logo and his jersey number painted all over your arms and cheeks.

You run to him after the ceremony as he catches you and gives you his congrats. You miss the knowing looks he shares with your parents regarding a certain black velvet box at the back of his pocket, and he hopes you’ll let him continue supporting you for the rest of your lives.

a/n: this was originally posted as a drabble/ask to ms. augustine (@/augustinewrites) and was inspired by her suna x reader ‘enchanted to meet you’ drabble <3 she writes the most tear-jerking fics and I highly recommend you add her works to your “top things I should read before I die” <33

(02/13/2022)

#novaflairfic #novaflairdrabble #suna x reader #haikyuu suna #hq suna #suna drabble #suna fic #suna rintaro #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintaro drabbles #rintaro suna #haikyuu #haikyuu suna rintaro #haikyuu suna rintarou #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

[skzsauce01]

King of Hearts

Synopsis: The king of hearts has a very special surprise planned for his queen. Heavy inspiration from Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through the Looking Glass.

Warning: murder

Word Count: 4.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x king!Chan

The throne room looks best at night when the moonlight spills through the giant glass windows and illuminates the wall of weapons behind the throne. It is an odd array of mostly clubs, maces, and swords, but dead center in the wall and above the plush red velvet seat of the king is a heavy double-bladed axe. Crafted and honed to be as sharp as a diamond knife, it is the perfect tool for executions.

Tomorrow evening it’s gleaming, polished surface will splattered with the blood of a queen.

The king allows himself to admire his collection of weaponry for another minute before returning to his bedchambers where his wife is surely missing his warm presence.

“Good morning, sweet tart,” your husband purrs into your ear. “It’s a special day today.”

You have been awake for the past hour, pretending to be fast asleep when you were actually sneaking glances of Chan in various states of undress. However, you keep your eyes closed and your breathing steady, knowing that he will start planting kisses down your jaw if you’re not awake soon.

“I know you’re not really sleeping,” he continues. He taps the corner of your mouth, and you try not to smile. “I saw you looking earlier.”

You give up the charade and sit up. “Can you blame me?” you grin. “You always dress so nicely for court trials. How many are on the agenda today?”

“Four,” he replies, pulling you closer to him. You playfully squirm in his embrace, and he placates you with exactly four kisses on the crown of your head. “Will you be attending?”

You sink into him and wish you could stay there all day. Just the thought of your own schedule tires you. “I have to ‘entertain’ my sister.”

Chan’s throaty chuckle rumbles against your cheek. “Just until dinnertime, sweet tart. Then you’ll be free.”

“I know. Thank goodness she’ll be busy after dinner.”

Reluctantly you let go of your husband and stumble out of bed. Your dreadful sister will nag at you in that awful harpy-esque way of hers if you’re even a second late to breakfast. Chan makes a feeble attempt to grab your wrist before following you to the vanity.

“Is the king not needed in court yet?” you tease as you brush out the tangles in your hair.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and presses his cheek against yours. “I’m missing something.”

It’s a silly tradition from your courting days: a kiss for each departure. He insisted on keeping it even when the two of you married, and you happily obliged. You turn to peck him on the cheek, but he twists his head so that your lips land onto his. He laughs at your noise of surprise and kisses you like he’s never going to see you again. It has been a while since Chan has been this intimate with you, and you eagerly return his affections.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you remark when he finally pulls away. You feel warm all over, but Chan is as composed as ever.

He smiles, full dimples showing. “It’s a special day today.”

“Goodbye, darling,” you say as you watch him leave the room through the vanity mirror.

He gives you one last glance before disappearing through the door. You note that he didn’t bother to fix his mussed up hair and giggle when you picture how he’ll look with the crown on his head.

It’s a good start to a bad day.

“You’re late,” is what your older sister greets you with.

You sit across from her at the dining table and do your best not to scowl. You wonder how the servants feel about her. There are none in the room, so in typical fashion, she must have dismissed them for one negligible reason or another. “Good morning to you too, Nari.”

“What are you wearing? Does this kingdom only wear red and black?” she continues. She picks up her cup of tea and stares at you above the lip, waiting for you to explain. Even with a team of royal advisors and a sister married to a foreign king, she still refuses to learn anything about kingdoms other than her own.

You sigh and try to remember Chan’s words. You only have to suffer through this until dinner and then your sister will finally be gone. “It’s a court day, so everyone wears red and black. It’s custom.”

“You and your frivolous trials,” she scoffs. “What’s the point when they’re all guilty anyway? So, are you going to ask about my trip? Where are your manners, little sister?”

You’re certain she means well when she nags you, but it doesn’t make it any less irritating. “How is everything at home?” you ask instead, knowing that will produce a shorter answer.

“Fine. Felix is ruling in my stead, but most of my advisors are with him, so he’ll have no trouble with it.” Nari picks up a scone topped with confectioner’s sugar and eyes it curiously before taking a bite. “Your sweets are quite good.”

You primly nod and pour yourself a cup of tea. Breakfast is mostly silent, and you’re glad that you nor your sister care to make conversation. You can barely stand her when she’s in a tolerable mood, and it seems like she’s nothing of the sort today. Her usual haughty disposition is only tempered by her breakfast of sweets. Nari seems to be enjoying the food with less complaints than usual, and you feel just a bit smug.

When the servants come to clear away the plates, you hollowly suggest to show Nari the rose gardens. She cheerfully agrees and links arms with you as you lead her outside.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling to have her so close to you after you haven’t seen her in a year. It’s even odder when you realize that she hasn’t linked arms with you since you were five and she eight. You mindlessly point out a few varieties of flowers on the way to the garden and wonder why your normally cold sister has turned warm.

“Is everything alright?” you ask once you have led her to the middle of the garden. The sweet scent of the roses always relaxes you, and hopefully they will do the same for Nari. “You’re acting strange all of a sudden.”

She lets you go and stands in front of you. “Your husband. I don’t like him.”

“We courted for two years,” you remind her, frowning at the memory of her telling you the same thing when Chan first arrived at your home. “And we’re married now. I know you don’t like him, but there’s nothing you can do now.”

She shakes her head. “Do you know what the village girls call him? I stopped in town yesterday, and all the girls could talk about was Chan, the King of Hearts! They went on and on about his ‘perfect face’ and ‘perfect body.’ Think about what he’s done to get such a name!”

“Be an eligible, handsome future king?” You sigh and grab a nearby rose to stick your nose in. You will not give her the satisfaction of setting you off. “Nari,” you begin, your terse voice muffled by the petals, “it’s natural that you want to protect me, but if you’re only here to criticize Chan, then I’m not sure what to do with you during your stay.”

“I saw him stare at me when I arrived last night,” she protests. “Like an animal, unabashed.”

You almost snort at her claim. If anything, Chan dislikes Nari more than you do due to her constant nitpicks of him during the courting years. The incessant “You will never be good enough for her” and “Stay away from my siblings” surprisingly did not deter him from proposing to you.

“I’m sure it was disdain, not lust,” you dryly reply.

“I feel like I’m being watched in this place,” she continues, ignoring your remark. “I don’t trust him or anyone here.”

No wonder why she suddenly put on a facade the moment the servants stepped in the dining room.

“What do you think of the garden?” you ask to change the subject. You cannot fight with her on court day and with so many guests in the castle. “These are our prized roses. Chan said it took the gardeners and florists years to breed them.”

Nari glances at the flower you hold and purses her lips. “It looks like someone painted a white rose red. There’s still spots of white on them. You’re certain they were bred and not painted?”

You swallow the retort in your throat and reach out for another rose to inhale. Nari is just being Nari.

“How about a game of croquet?” You take her elbow and start leading her to the croquet court without waiting for a response. “I think you’ll enjoy it. I’ll teach you how to play.”

Nari roughly snatches her arm back, and her eyes flash with an unfamiliar fire. “You’re not taking any of this seriously, little sister. All the village tarts have likely been with him already, so you mean nothing to him! Isn’t that his cute, little pet name for you too? ‘Sweet tart?’ You’re pathetic.”

For all Nari has said in the past, she has never directly insulted you like this. The fragile restraint you have on your emotions snaps.

“You just hate Chan because he didn’t want to marry you!” you shout, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You’re just bitter that he chose me instead of you! And do you know why he and no one else likes you? Because you’re a cold, angry, bitter hag that nitpicks everything! And you think you’re such a perfect ruler, but the truth is that your advisors hate you and like Felix better! I bet the entire kingdom is happier without you!”

It comes out in one long breath, and you’re red in the face from screaming years of pent up feelings at your sister. It feels good to let it all out. With a sick sense of delight, you watch as Nari turns scarlet and as her eyes gloss over with tears.

“I’m going back to my chambers,” she frostily says.

She pushes past you, and you don’t try to follow her. Even though it’s a longer way back to the castle, you take the opposite path and head to the courtroom.

At least someone will be happy to see you.

You appear placid when you enter the courtroom, which is just the throne room with extra chairs for the jury and audience. Everyone stares at you as you walk to the empty seat reserved for you at king’s side.

“Hello, darling,” you whisper to him as you fluff out your skirts. “My sister decided to retire early to her room.”

He nods in reply and turns back to the defendant. “Proceed.”

Despite his reserved facade, he places one hand on top of yours and starts fiddling with your fingers to try and make you burst out into laughter. It’s a game you and him play during court days, and he has won the past three rounds. However, by the time the defendant is found guilty, neither of you have broken each other.

Chan calls to break for afternoon tea, but you and him linger in the empty room.

He helps you up from your seat and pulls you into an embrace in one fluid motion. “Court is much more fun with you,” he sighs into your hair. “Have I mentioned how stunning you look in red?”

“Only every time I wear it.” You reach up and brush a stray curl from his temple. “Might I say, you look even more handsome than when I saw you this morning.”

“It must be all the guilty verdicts. Are you going to watch the executions in the evening?”

“I always do.” Your eyes fall onto the double-bladed axe above the throne. “It’s my favorite part of court day.”

“I think you’ll enjoy today’s very much.” He slips his arm from your waist to your hands and begins leading you to the dining hall. “I heard the cook made jam tarts for tea today. Your favorite.”

You lean into him and smile at his pleased expression. “You requested them, didn’t you? She hasn’t made them in ages!”

“Sweet tarts for my sweet tart,” he playfully says, kissing your fingertips and making you giggle. “I thought they would make afternoon tea with your sister less awful.”

The mere mention of Nari turns your mood sour. “I hope she skips tea.”

“Did you two quarrel?”

“When do we not?”

Two servants open the door to the dining hall, and to your vast disappointment, you spot Nari seated at an empty table by a window, a cup of tea in hand. Her head is turned, and you can’t see her face, but she is the only person in the room not wearing red and black.

You hesitate by the door, and Chan nudges you toward her. “Your sister’s here.”

“Don’t you hate Nari?” you try. “Please don’t make me talk to her.”

“I do, but politics. She’s my sister-in-law” — he doesn’t even bother to hide the disgust in his voice  — “and the queen of a foreign kingdom. You hate her less than I do.”

The last part is debatable. “I get a front seat at the executions tonight,” you negotiate. “And jam tarts for tea for the rest of the week.”

Chan gratefully kisses your cheek and murmurs into your ear, “You can request jam tarts from the cook whenever you like, you know. I’ll see you after.”

You should have demanded more, like handling executions instead of getting a front row seat to them. He would have never agreed to that.

While he leaves to chat with some aristocrats about the past trials, you stiffly walk towards your sister. You take the empty chair in front of her and curtly say a greeting. She says nothing and instead pours you a cup of tea. For a minute, the two of you choose to sip your drinks and nibble on the quiches and tarts.

“Have you come to apologize?” Nari says in a strange brittle way. She finally looks up from the table, and you see that her eyes are ringed with red.

You want to say no because you haven’t, but a small part of you feels guilty for making her cry. As far as you remember, Nari stopped crying when she was eight.

However, you’re still upset. “No because you’ve never apologized to me. For saying all those things about me and for being rude to Chan all the time.”

“I meant all those things.”

“So did I.”

Another silence. You sneak glances at her, and judging by the fact that she’s still chewing on the same mini quiche from two minutes ago, she’s barely holding it together.

“Here,” you abruptly say, placing a raspberry jam tart on her plate. “I know you like sweets better.”

You can see her debating whether she should take your peace offering or not. Her jaw is set as she looks down at it, but her fingers twitch like she wants to grab it and taste it.

“It’s good, I promise.”

She takes a cautious bite of it and slowly reaches for another from the tower of treats. In the meantime, you refill your cups with more tea and smirk when you see the content expression Nari has when she finishes the tart. Across the room, Chan gives you an encouraging smile at your efforts.

“How’s Felix?” you ask. Your little brother is usually a safe topic. “He’s going to be old enough to be king soon, isn’t he?”

“According to you, he’ll make a much better ruler than me,” she sniffs.  “But I’m the eldest, so I was always going to be queen. Unlike whatever nonsensical laws you have here.”

She says ‘here’ like she said ‘pathetic’ earlier. Nari says something about Felix and how his studies are going, but you’re too concerned with keeping your anger in check to hear it.

“You can never leave anything alone, can you?” you snap in the midst of her spiel. You wrap all of the tarts — yes, every single one from the tea tower, much to your sister’s dismay — in a bundle of napkins and stand up. “I’ll see you at dinner, Nari.”

You hear her huff a reply about how immature you’re being, but you don’t care. On your way back to the courtroom, someone grabs your wrist and spins you toward them.

You already know it’s Chan. “I tried but—”

“Are you really going to take all those tarts and share none with me?”

“Oh?” You hold out the napkins and let him pick between raspberry jam and lemon curd. “You’re not here to come tell me to make nice with my sister?”

“I saw it wasn’t going well, so I called for court to resume in ten minutes,” he says, licking the leftover jam from his fingers. He smiles reassuringly at you. “Don’t lose your pretty head over her. She’s…”

“Annoying? Rude? Deserving of none of our kindness?”

He stifles a laugh at your tone and starts leading to the courtroom. “Difficult,” is what he finally settles upon, but you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “She won’t be a problem for you much longer though.”

“I can hardly wait until tomorrow,” you sigh. “Goodbye, dreadful Nari.”

All the pastries are finished by the time you and Chan take your designated seats. No one else has arrived yet, so Chan takes off his crown and rests his head on your shoulders. He contently sighs and nestles his face into the crook of your neck.

“I think you’ll like this trial,” he mumbles, his tickly breath making you giggle. “It’s why jam tarts have been a scarcity for the past two weeks.”

“Is the cook on the stand?” you joke. The double doors to the throne room start to open, and you raise your shoulder. “Darling.”

Within seconds, King Bang Chan is back and your adoring husband shelved away. More people fill the empty seats in the room, and you watch the entrance carefully to ensure your sister hasn’t decided to show up and make your day worse. It’s unlikely since she is bound to be upset, but you can never be too sure. As expected though, she never arrives, and you sigh in relief. When the trial begins, Chan’s hand is over yours, fiddling with your fingers again. You gladly continue the game as the defendant enters in chains, flocked by two guards.

However, no one wins. The trial is quickly over as the knave is soon found guilty of stealing fruit preserves from the royal kitchen. After the courtroom clears out and you and Chan exchange departing kisses, you retire to your chambers to get dressed for dinner while he goes off elsewhere to attend to more kingly duties.

You don’t see him again until you have finished your bath and the maids are pinning up your hair. Through the vanity mirror, you watch as he enters the bedchambers with his crown missing, hair mussed, and the top of his shirt unbuttoned.

“Hello, darling,” you call out, noticing his satisfied smile. “I see you enjoyed whatever it was that you were doing earlier.”

He gestures for the maids to leave, and they do so in a hurry. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pressing his lips to your neck at the same time. Every part of you is hyper aware of his proximity when he mumbles, “I did.”

He protests when you lean away and weakly cite your delicate half-done updo. Despite his feelings, he gives you a kiss on your temple and goes to take his bath; dinner will be starting in an hour.

Unsure of what to make of Chan’s reply, you call the maids back in and sit like a statue while they finish your hair. Nari is wrong, you tell yourself. She doesn’t know a single thing about your husband.

Her accusations of him, however, swirl around in your head, and they are all you can think about when there are no more hair tugging and pin stabbings. When Chan emerges from his bath, whistling the cheery execution song, he grins at you and says in tune, “Have I mentioned you look beautiful in red?”

A different kind of chill washes over you, but you still reply back with a stiff smile. “Only every time I wear it.”

He walks over to you and wraps one arm around your shoulders. The scent of soap and cologne that you typically find so comforting is suddenly pungent and overpowering. You can see that his other arm is hidden behind his back, and you can’t look anywhere else.

“Here,” he says. He tucks a red-and-white rose behind your hair, and you jump a bit when you feel the dampness of the petals against your skin. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice these in the bath. They’re your favorite.”

“It’s been a long day,” you tell him. You abruptly stand up and nod to the door. “Should we get to dinner?”

He loops his arm around your waist and leads you to the dining hall. “Were those tarts not filling enough?” he teases. “Or are you just excited for the executions after?”

“I suppose both.”

The finale of court day is the last thing on your mind.

Dinner passes by in a blur. For the first time of the day, you actively look around for Nari and are shocked and disappointed when she doesn’t show up. Maybe you should have been kinder. You airily laugh at the jokes the aristocrats make and make a few of your own about the trials, but your mind and eyes go back to Chan. He sits at the head of the table and merrily cheers with others over another successful court day. You catch him gazing lovingly at you occasionally, and you don’t know what to think anymore.

Soon, the crowd gathers to the execution site outside where servants have set up chairs and lit lanterns. As promised, Chan lets you have the best seat in the house. You sit quietly while he changes into his executioner’s robes and while he is presented with his double-bladed axe.

The guards bring the criminals from the prison, their heavy chains clanging against one another. Four guilty verdicts, four heads to roll. You normally would be thrilled by this prospect, but tonight’s jubilation has been dulled. Nevertheless, you clap after each punishment and admire how clean the cuts are. The wooden chopping block soon drips with blood, and a metallic tang fills the air.

A servant comes to dispose of all the remains, and most of the audience turns to leave, but Chan still lingers around.

“There’s still one more execution left,” he announces. He wipes the blade clean and nods at the guards. “A very special one I planned in surprise for my wife.”

You hear the gasps before you can even process his words. You turn to find out what the fuss is about, and your eyes grow wide when you spot a familiar lily-white dress through the crowd.

“Darling,” you shakily ask, “what is this?”

Chan grins widely at you and readjusts the axe in his grip. “You’re going to be the queen of two kingdoms, sweet tart.”

The guards force your sister to stop in front of you, and Chan rips off the gag in front of her mouth. Nari doesn’t say a word, but the look in her eye says it all: “I told you so.”

“What is this?” you repeat. You wring your hands in the folds of your skirts and try to figure out what exactly is happening.

Your sister is about to be executed for unknown reasons, your husband seems rather nonchalant about the whole situation, and you suppose you are as well. With the chains manacled around her wrists and the guards standing behind her, Nari feels like just another criminal to be punished.

“For starters, you and I don’t like her,” Chan says, walking closer. He glances over at Nari. “She’s a terrible queen, and from what I’ve been told by my advisors, she’s too busy with pretending to be a queen to actually rule.”

“He’s a liar!” Nari spits out, flushing bright red at the allegation. “Don’t you forget that he has mistresses all over town and that you’re just another pretty plaything to him!”

The audience, having heard her accusations, gasps again, and a wave of whispers rolls through the crowd. You glance over at Chan to see his reaction.

He looks terrifying.

His usual cool composure is streaked with anger so hot, you can almost feel it radiating off of him. He thickly swallows, and his hand bearing the bloodstained axe starts to shake. His breathing turns ragged when he finally looks at Nari.

“You think that I would have an affair? You think I would be disloyal to her?” The next sentence comes out in a cold, calm breath. “I’ll execute you on that charge alone.”

“Wait!” you shout at Chan before he can drag her to the execution block. More quietly, you say, “Explain yourself. When you came into the room.”

His face softens as he realizes the implications of his earlier appearance. He cups your face with his free hand. “I was getting your sister taken to the prison. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t go on her own accord, so there was a bit of a scuffle. The guards took care of her later though. I could never be disloyal to you, Y/N.”

No pet names, no teasing. He’s dead serious.

You switch back to your sister, who is still clinging firm to her beliefs. Look at her steadfast expression! “You’re the liar,” you sardonically laugh. “You almost made me believe your lies! You… you almost turned me against my husband! And what for? Your own jealousy?”

“To protect you! And I was right too!” She sharply nods at the crowd of aristocrats. “Look at this madness! Court days and execution parties?”

“Like you don’t order the deaths of criminals yourself!” You motion for the guards to take her to the execution block. You hate her so much right now, and you can barely see past the haze of red overtaking your vision. “Goodbye, Nari.”

“So you’re just going to let him kill me?” she yells. She tries to grab your shoulders at the last second, but the guards pull her back. “He’s an awful man, killing me for such a petty reason! And you’re pathetic for standing by him!”

Pathetic.

It echoes in your ears, and you want to snatch the axe out of Chan’s hands and do it yourself. However, you instead bite out, “Shut up. It’s the least you can do to apologize to me.”

Chan cleans the blade with the cloth from Nari’s gag, and you watch as the white fabric gets painted with scarlet like your sister’s stupid notion about the roses. He raises the axe over her head, and the metal flashes in the lantern light.

You look your sister in the eye. “Off with your head.”

And off her head goes.

~ ad.gray

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #stray kids fic #skz fic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids angst #skz angst #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #bang chan imagines #bang chan angst #stray kids au #skz au #20210408

[zaunsfinest]

Incurably Romantic - Silco x fem!reader PART ONE

SYNOPSIS

You were a songstress at a new speakeasy - The Cocktail Cabaret - which was racking up new customers quickly. Unfortunately, it rivalled the Kingpin’s bar and nightclub - The Last Drop. Silco soon pays The Cocktail Cabaret a visit to see what the fuss was all about, laying his eyes on you.

WARNINGS: None so far, but I do plan on an NSFW chapter later on, and future chapters will have some violence (the type you’ve already witnessed in the show.)

You are younger than Silco in this fic, but most certainly NOT a child. I estimate his in-show age to be around 40-45, so the reader's age here would be around 30.

The title of this fic is based on the song with Marilyn Monroe! I suggest giving it a listen and I’ve also curated a small playlist for the theme of this piece.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1LdV0KAp8tZiHgMQDfh104?si=ec53ad70838e4b46

In order to help with imagining what the speakeasy looks like, I got inspiration photos from one in NYC and ended up getting ahead of myself, so I also created a few mood boards to set the tone of the fic.

Okay, now let’s get this party started!!

————

Silco paced back and forth in his office, baffled at how low the number of customers inside his establishment were these past couple of days. Sure, the addicts and party animals that danced the night away under the fluorescent neon lights were still present, but his more refined, influential customers were nowhere to be seen. They were usually the older, more mature business folk who discussed their plans on the club’s upper level. They provided opportunities for Silco’s business to continue to prosper and now with them missing, he was wondering if it would be this way for a long time.

He heard of the new bar that opened up down the street - The Cocktail Cabaret. For god’s sake, he had even approved their request to order and use shimmer to enhance some of their drinks. At least he was making a profit there, but he couldn’t help but wonder if that was where all his valuable customers were going. 

He hadn’t been able to see the place himself - the owner had come to his office to talk business. She was an old woman who looked to be around sixty to seventy years old and carried herself with grace. 

Fixing his tie and sliding on his coat, Silco made his way outside and towards The Cocktail Cabaret. As he opened the dark wooden doors to the building’s entrance, he was greeted with dim, warm lighting that contrasted The Last Drop's colder environment. The place had a vintage feel to it, with ochre-coloured paint with a metallic sheen and a few tucked away rooms with sage green walls, burgundy velvet sofas and striped corduroy booths, a marvellous bar with an assortment of drinks, and a small stage to the left of the room. The spotlights by the stage were currently off, but he was able to catch a glance at the tall steel microphone that shone despite being in the shadows. The music that carried throughout the room was played through a large phonographs speakers, the sound of discussion and laughter filling the air.

Silco sat down in a corner and ordered one glass of whiskey. They had the good stuff. As he observed and ran his eyes around the room, he proved himself correct - most of the business folk that usually went to The Last Drop were here, drinking away in a separate booth. It took everything in him to mask his scowl. As he took another sip from his cup, the music from the phonograph came to a stop as the spotlight turned on and fixated onto the small stage. The crowd went silent at this, Silco noticed, as a woman with (h/c) coloured hair in a sleek black dress made her way onto the stage. 

Everyone held their breath as she walked into the spotlight, her movements fluid like a slow-running river, and Silco found himself doing the same.

“Good evening everybody,” she spoke into the mic, her voice light and feathery, “I hope you all enjoy tonight’s performance.”

And so she began to sing, her singing voice just as beautiful as her speaking voice - silky, smooth, delectable. She sang in a style Silco hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing in person, a rare and classic voice he only had the opportunity to witness through vinyl records.

Now, Silco realized what made this bar so different from the rest as he watched her for the duration of her performance. The bar continued in a hushed manner, loud chatter turning into whispers as they listened to her song. 

————

It was wintertime in Zaun, a light flurry of snowflakes finding their way down to its streets. The pure snow turns into dirt and slush the second it steps foot onto the cobblestone roads and alleyways. Perhaps all were cursed to have impurities down here in Zaun.

You were working tonight at The Cocktail Cabaret, a new speakeasy bar owned by the woman who raised you when your mother would not. Clarita was a classy old lady who enjoyed the finer things in life, still pin-curling her silver tresses in intricate up-does and sporting her iconic red lip.

Clarita didn't always have the means to achieve her luxurious lifestyle and had to do various jobs in her youth to get where she is now - be it a bartender, courtesan, or a saleswoman at a local trinket shop. When you reached adulthood, you immediately took on some work in order to assist her in achieving her dreams and along the way, discovered your talent as well. You admired Clarita more than anyone else in all of Zaun and Piltover alike, and she too was proud to call you her daughter.

At last, the fruits of your labour paid off as the two of you opened the speakeasy. You ran your hand across one of the burgundy velvet loveseats as you entered the building, waving to Lola and Carmen - they too were taken in by Clarita when they were children. You grew up with them both, forming a sisterly bond. Lola had an olive skin tone and rich brown hair she kept in long waves down her back. Carmen had dark umber skin with braided hair as black as a majestic raven. Both of them could make a mean cocktail and had mixology skills that you were certain could rival the posh bars in Piltover.

You headed towards the back, snaking your way through the dimly lit hallway and up a flight of stairs, unlocking the door to your room. Taking off your black-fur winter coat and setting it onto your rose-colored Victorian velvet couch, you eyed your attire in your vanity mirror. An off-the-shoulder, body-hugging black gown that had a sweetheart neckline and a high slit up to your left thigh, and a new pair of black stilettos. You accessorized this outfit with a string of pearls that sat cold on your neck, long black lace gloves, and sheer thigh-high stockings with black lace trim. 

Swiftly, you grabbed hold of the wine red perfume bottle of your signature fragrance - Dior Hypnotic Poison - and sprayed your neck twice and your wrist once, rubbing them together. You had fought tooth and nail to get a hold of this fragrance - expensive and designer perfumes were hard to come by in Zaun. Most prices were hiked up from resellers attempting to scam young ladies.

It was important to always look your best when performing - it was what reeled in a majority of the customers. As long as you held your head high and carried yourself with poise, The Cocktail Cabaret could maintain its luxurious reputation.

There was then a knock on your door, followed by Clarita’s silvery voice.

“My lovely songbird, may I come in?”

“Of course you may,” you laughed in response, opening the door for her and enveloping her in an embrace. You could feel her spine from where your palms touched her and realized just how old and fragile she was becoming. Despite that, her attitude remained strong - another thing you admired her for.

She took a step back to marvel at the way you looked in your evening dress and sighed.

“Ah, the beauty of youth is unparalleled. You look wonderful tonight, (y/n).”

“Youth has nothing to do with it,” you hummed, “You still look as beautiful as ever, mom Clarita”

“Oh please, you flatter me, child,” she laughed, “Head on out, they’re waiting for you.”

With a smile and small nod, you left your room and headed out onto the stage, watching as everyone sat silently and awaited your performance. You knew why they reacted this way. Some found you beautiful and talented, others revelled in the privilege of being able to listen to a live performance in a peaceful, luxurious environment. 

A taste of Topside. 

The musical arts - art in general - were scarce in Zaun despite their people's talent. They weren’t recognized the same way Piltovan artists were. Yet here you were performing on a stage made just for you, with the elegance and talent to make it to Topside.

“Good evening everybody,” you finally spoke, taking in the sight of everyone’s eyes on you, “I hope you all enjoy tonight’s performance.”

And so you began to sing, accompanied by the soft background instrumentals provided by a few musicians. It was difficult to find musicians around these parts, even more so to pay them, but Clarita managed to get it done.

You sang for an hour straight before taking a break by the bar. Usually, during breaks, a few men and women would flock around you in an attempt to start a conversation or flirt. This time, however, they all left you alone and stared - in fear almost. You hadn’t had a clue why until you craned your neck to face the man behind you.

You examined him from the legs up. He wore a Piltovan styled three-piece suit with gold filigree lining and a burgundy dress shirt. However, that wasn’t what gave his identity away. As you met his gaze, you recognized the description of his eyes. One as clear as the skies in Piltover, the other a burning, raging amber with the whites of his eyes turned black. Scars travelled down that side of his face, from above his brow down his chiseled cheekbones and trailing to his jaw.

Silco.

He wasn’t what you expected at all - some people described him as a grotesque and terrifying man, others called him a smooth-talking monster. He looked none of the sort, in fact, you found him quite attractive. He was older than you, that much was apparent, but his facial features looked as though he was sculpted by the gods. His scarring added to his look, made him look dangerous.

You like dangerous.

“That was a lovely performance,” he spoke, breaking the silence with his velvety tone, “I’ve never heard anyone quite like you before.” Silco took the bar seat next to you on your right, the scarred side of his face towards you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled whilst taking a sip of your glass of wine, “If I had known you were listening, perhaps I would have tried a little harder.” 

This earned a small chuckle from the man and he ordered a glass of whiskey. Despite the fact that the rest of the room had returned to their previous discussions, you could tell that some were watching, listening in to your conversation in curiosity. After all, it wasn’t often that the Kingpin spoke to a woman so openly.

“I wasn’t aware that your singing could get any more perfect than that,” he retaliated with a humorous undertone. You decided to humour him some more.

“Are you challenging me?” You whispered, “If so, I’d be glad to prove you wrong.” Now, you were trying your luck.

“It was a challenge, as well as a compliment. A voice like yours is hard to come by.”

“Are you going to shower me with compliments the whole evening, Mr. Silco?” You asked jokingly, blinking slowly while maintaining eye contact. 

You watched him shift in his seat. A subtle movement, but it only proved to you that he wasn't accustomed to such public displays of flirtations. 

“Hm,” he hummed, finishing his drink, “Only if you’d let me.”

Ah, things were heating up. You were playing a dangerous game.

“And if I would?” You pressed on the subject, looking over to Carmen and gesturing for refills of your drinks. 

She walked towards you two with a smile, pouring your red wine and his whiskey. Only when she turned back did you catch a glimpse of her expression. She was looking at you with worry written all over her face, eyes flickering in concern and fear. You gave her a reassuring nod and returned to your conversation with Silco, still awaiting his response.

“Then I would have to come here more often,” he replied, the look in his eyes teasing.

The front doors swinging open interrupted the two of you as a well-built woman with a mechanical arm made her way through.

“Boss. There’s a problem at the wharf.” She seemed to be talking to Silco, who now looked irritated by the disruption.

“I’ll meet you outside shortly,” he said with a sigh. The woman looked at you, then back at Silco, a smirk forming on her face as she realized the scene she had walked into. When she had left the building, Silco turned back to face you.

“I’m afraid my compliments have been cut short. Shall I continue another day, miss…?” He took a pause, indicating for you to introduce yourself.

“(y/n),” you replied with a coy smile, “And yes, you may.”

“(y/n),” Silco repeated, looking somewhat proud of himself as he cocked his eyebrow. You relished the way your name sounded on his lips.

“I’ll see you some other time, (y/n).”

With a small wave, he disappeared into the night.

#silco #silco x y/n #silco x reader #silco x you #arcane #arcane league of legends #fanfic #fan fiction #arcane fanfic #oh my god this is the first time i've written in a long time

[hime-hana]

inspired by chase atlantic - slow down

jung wooyoung x fem!reader

trigger warning(s): smut, sexual depictions, oral sex, alcohol mentions, slight angst

00.23 am

"push a little further on the edge, crawl a little further on the bed, i'm burning up, all i see is red"

Neon lights and hazy eyes. There was nothing better than this late into the night. Nothing better than when Wooyoung’s fingertips grip your hips a little too mean pulling you against him, bodies burning together. Your head falls back on his shoulder, his lips on your neck as you sway from side to side, painfully slowly brushing against the obvious bulge in his jeans.

“I missed you, doll.”

His right arm creeps up from your waist to meet your kiss-painted neck, fingers gracefully dancing around the skin, squeezing ever so gently when push your hips back into his with a devilish smile, and a satisfied moan is swallowed by his lips when he turns your face towards his. He smells like bitter alcohol, but his kiss is the sweetest thing you ever tasted.

“You still didn’t answer me,” he hisses in your ear a moment later when the friction becomes too much.

You turn your head slightly, eyebrows rising at his question. You knew exactly what he meant, but seeing Wooyoung so worked up, eyes turning dark with lust felt far too good not to toy with him a little more.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you shrug, walking past him and towards the stairs.

Your shoulder brushes against his as you struggle to make a path through the bodies bouncing to the rhythm in your friend’s living room.

“Y/N,” you hear him call, but your steps continue until you reach the dimly lit hallway upstairs.

You knew he would follow you. Wooyoung needed you way too much not to trail after you. Especially now, when you were looking so good sitting on the bed, legs parted and a glimpse of your lacy underwear on sight.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down when your index finger traces the contour of your clothed pussy, the fabric sticks to your skin almost like an invitation for him to take you. You cup your breasts, taking your lower lip between your teeth with a groan. You wanted him to do it all, but you will never tell him that.

Wooyoung doesn’t budge from the door and you let out a giggle seeing his pleading eyes.

“Y/N,” he repeats your name as he finally steps closer to the bed.

You lift his chin with two fingers. Eyes staring into yours, almost begging you to give him something. Anything.

“Wooyoung, I thought you were the one who insisted on us playing this game. You said you don’t enjoy losing.”

He chews on his bottom lip in response.

“Where is that boy who swore he does not fall in love and only plays with hearts for fun? Did you forget about him?”

You pause and you close the distance between your faces. He could almost taste your lips again, velvet, peachy taste impregnated in his mind. His eyelids flutter shut when your breath reaches his cheek, but you pull back just as fast.

“Did my little bad boy fall in love?”

Your soft, mocking tone made it all worse for Wooyoung. It was not supposed to be like this, but he was in too deep to think straight right now. He went from a heartbreaker to a lost puppy in love when he saw you were not giving in to any of his advances. Instead, you seemed much more interested in the way San’s eyes wrapped around your body and the flirtatious jokes he whispered in your ear. And how could Wooyoung accept it when you made a bet against each other? When he bet his heart? When he was so sure that he will have you wrapped around his finger in less than a month, only for you to have him wrapped around yours as you play with his lovesick mind. When you were the only person on his mind day and night.

“I...”

He could not finish his sentence, and you scoff in return.

You accepted to play this cat-and-mouse game with him for fun when he insisted one night after taking one too many shots, never expecting it to get this far. You told him to take his mind off of having you during the first night this started; a displeased look on your face each time you saw his smirk, eyes rolling in the back of your head when his hand would find its way to your thigh at the dinner table with all your friends.

Wooyoung kneels in front of the bed and pulls you closer by your legs, hands resting on your parted thighs. His head lays on your knee, brown eyes looking deeply into yours. Your name escapes his lips again almost like a mournful cry as he touches your skin. His fingers grip your thighs and you raise your eyebrows, watching him kiss his way up to your thighs.

“Can I kiss you here?”

A whimper is your only response and you see a fading smile on his face. Wooyoung places your legs over his shoulders, tongue tracing patterns on the glowing skin as he kept on reaching higher. And higher until you felt his breath against your core.

“Can I kiss you here, as well?”

You murmur a yes, voice broken as you struggle not to show him how much you needed him.

He licks his lips, gaze admiring the way the white lace stuck to your pussy even more now. He pushes it to the side with a heavy breath. How long has he been waiting for this moment; his thoughts going crazy as he used to imagine another man doing all these nasty and lewd things to you. And now it was finally him. Touching, kissing, and nipping at your body as if it was only meant for him to feel you, see you in your most intimate state. Legs sprawled and your beautiful body on display for his eyes only.

His kisses are gentle and he takes his time, but you need him so much that each kiss feels like a sting against the hot core.

“Y/N... “

His voice is merely a whisper as he laps at your wetness again. He wants it all and you allow him to have it because maybe you didn’t dislike it either. Wooyoung always made your heart skip a beat and your body shiver whenever he was close, but you would never show him that. You don't want to look weak in front of him.

Your fingers found their way into his black hair, tugging at his small ponytail while he pushed your skirt higher to be able to look you in the eyes. He kisses past your folds and takes in all the sweetness with a loud moan.

Fuck, he looked so hot in between your legs. Your muscles twitch when he gazes at you with doe eyes, lips smeared with you. Only you.

“Say that you’re mine,” he suddenly speaks when his tongue flicks over your clit, teeth nibbling at the skin hard enough for his name to escape your lips.

He loved being in control, being the one receiving all the attention from pretty girls in the bedroom, but right now he wants nothing more than to hear you moan his name one more time.

He presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing circles. Mouth moves to the side of your thigh, hands gripping your ass while he bites and nips at the skin, leaving you a purple reminder that he was there. That he made you feel as if you went to heaven and back with his touch.

Your head falls back and your thighs close against his head. The heat between your thighs becoming heavier and stronger. Wooyoung lets you grind against his mouth with your throbbing pussy, filling him with your juices, your moans contrasting with the music downstairs and for a moment you even forget there are other people there besides you and him.

“Please,” came his voice again, “please say it.”

Another moan and rush of pleasure hit you and Wooyoung’s movements get rougher the closer you are to your orgasm. Your fingers tangle in his hair again when he starts sucking at your core without stopping, tongue darting into you.

“Say that you’re mine,” he cries out when his kisses make you reach your climax.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the sheets, juices spreading all over the mattress and his lips.

Wooyoung kisses your thighs again, a sweet sadness in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall, mouth agape as if you are trying to tell him something but the words never come out.

“Please,” he begs one more time, “say you’re my girl. Please.”

#ateez smut #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #ateez imagines #wooyoung imagines #ateez

[connorandersons-blog]

Oooh…how about…

Connor/Markus in the key of Angst No. 10:

“How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?”

So this ended up longer than I meant it to be, but honestly I’m loving it. I’m so sorry to those that love Simon (I do too but I needed someone to be the “bad guy” ish) And don’t worry it has a happy ending! Enjoy!

_________

Markus was… stunning. That was an understatement of the century, but Connor didn’t have the right words to say just how magnificent the man was. Everything he did was truly wonderful, and Connor just loves to watch him.

The way his eyes fluttered underneath his lids as he kept his eyes closed while he painted, his hand holding the brush like it was an extension of himself. He bared his soul with each painting and whenever he’d play the piano. His fingers are always so sure of themselves, never missing a key or pressing the wrong note.

Connor loved to watch him as he spoke to people whether it be to the millions around the world or just someone who needed a friend. Both were always so thoughtful, and Markus puts his full attention into it.

Even when Markus was just sitting and reading, he did it perfectly. Connor was addicted to watching his hand as it flipped the delicate page to reveal the new words for Markus to soak in. The way his face would change as he read, from surprise to annoyance, to absolute joy. He was always so very expressive.

Connor adored him, saw how inspiring he was to others, to Connor too, and knew whoever could call him a friend or even lover would be incredibly lucky. It’s why he was so very shocked when Markus confessed his love for Connor.

The first thing Connor had said was why? Why him out of everyone he could choose from? Markus's answer had made him gasp in understanding. He had said ’it wasn’t a choice, but if I could I wouldn’t change a thing.’

After that, it was just… perfect. Markus was the perfect lover, so caring and understanding, he was incredibly patient and adoring. When they made love, it was mind-blowing and left both sated and exhausted. Connor clung to him after those moments, knowing it was just for him. He could cuddle against him, Markus’s hand on the small of his back as his fingers danced over his skin slightly. It made Connor shiver and press closer, smiling against Markus’s skin as he kissed wherever he could.

He never really let himself worry because Markus would never do anything to hurt him, not when they loved each other. Sometimes those thoughts would creep up, but then Markus would turn to smile at him, or their hands would brush together and it would all be ok.

Markus and he ended up living together, and it gave them more time together than before. It was absolutely wonderful, those moments together that he wanted more and more of. He wanted to spend his entire existence with him and now he was finally going to ask.

Marriage had been a low priority given everything else they needed to cover. It had taken years until they pushed for marriage, but now it was official. Androids could marry whoever they wanted, human or android.

Most people would expect Markus to be the one to propose, but Connor had wanted to. Markus was always initiating and now it was Connor’s turn. He held the banquet of red roses in one hand, the velvet box in his pocket feeling incredibly heavy.

He could do this; they’ve been together for so long and it was the next logical step. He just really hoped Markus would say yes.

He knew Markus didn’t have a meeting, it was lunch break for everyone in the building and Markus took this time to relax some. Everything should be perfect, but when he opened the door, it absolutely was not.

There was Markus, standing in front of his desk, but Connor couldn’t really see him because Simon was in front, and Connor knew what was happening. It felt like his life stopped, everything turning ice-cold frozen around him as his eyes widened.

He couldn’t breathe, everything was stuck, not even the tears seemed to be able to break free to run down his cheeks. He should have known; they were always so close, but Connor had trusted them. Simon was their friend, had encouraged them to get together, and seemed happy for them.

He dropped the flowers and ran, not knowing where he was going but he just… he just had to go. He had to disappear.

He heard someone calling his name, probably Markus but he wouldn’t stop. How could he?! Why would Markus do this, why would Simon? Why did he let himself believe he deserved anything different?

He could barely even see, and he let out a scream as arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him back. He flailed his arms and legs as his chest hit something warm and solid.

“Connor! It wasn’t what it looked like! Please, please just let me speak.” Markus said, his breath coming out fast against Connor’s neck.

“No!” He wouldn’t let Markus talk; he knew how well he could talk people into things and Connor knew what he saw. “Fuck off,” he snarled. He wouldn’t hurt Markus no matter how much Markus was hurting him, no matter how much he wanted him to feel that pain.

Markus held tighter and thankfully didn’t try to kiss over Connor’s neck like he usually did when he’d hold him from behind. “No, Connor. I’m not going to let you go until you agree to listen.”

Connor grit his teeth, the tears hot on his cheeks. “How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?” He should have known better. It was all a lie, a very well-constructed one, he’d give him that. All those times Markus said leading kept him busy, was he really with Simon?

“I do, I love you more than anything. I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me.” Markus squeezed him tighter against his chest and Connor almost wanted to elbow him to be let go.

More than anything he wanted to believe him, but it was just so hard. “Fine. Talk.” He wished he didn’t love Markus so much, if he didn’t then he would never agree to listen.

Markus let out a sigh, loosening his grip but not letting go. “Simon came in and asked to talk. I had no reason to deny him, and so I said yes. He told me that he’s in love with me and then he kissed me. He had said he just wanted it once and I tried to deny him, I don’t want him, but he kissed me anyway. I pushed him off right after, but you walked in right as he did it.”

Connor panted; his vision still blurry but now from the tears that he couldn’t stop. He hated how much it made sense, but it was hard to believe Simon would do that. Why would he kiss Markus when he had said no? Maybe it was just a kiss to do it once and then move on. He hoped that was it, but it hurt so much to have seen.

“I can interface, I’ll show you if you don’t believe me. But Connor, I love you, I’d never cheat.” Markus lets him go fully and Connor staggers forward. He wraps his arms around himself, turning slowly to see Markus staring at him with tears streaked down his face too. He held out his hand, the skin having receded.

Connor hugged himself even tighter, staring at the offered hand. All those times he interfaced with Markus there was never one lie. He didn’t think androids could change memories with an interface but what if he did?

He reached out and clasped their hands together feeling that connection form between them that became so natural for them. The memories fill his mind, and he is so used to this that he doesn’t stop his own memories from flowing to Markus.

He watched as it played out just as Markus said, and he felt the devastation and pure panic that washed over him as he watched Connor run off. He felt everything and then he was back in his own mind, the interface cut off. He was… telling the truth?

“You were… you were coming to propose to me?” Markus whispered, staring at Connor with wide eyes. Oh, shit.

His hand went down to his pocket where the box still was. “I was.” It was hard to tell what his emotions were, all of them were so overwhelming and confusing.

Markus chokes back a sob, covering his mouth with his hand. “Darling, shit. I’m, I'm so sorry, I promise you I’d never do anything to hurt you. I’m so in love with you.”

He pulls the box out, rubbing his fingers against the black velvet. “I know that you do, I’m still just, I don’t know. This went all wrong.”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. If you still wanted to ask, and you don’t have to, but if you asked, I’d say yes.”

Connor sucked in a breath, gaping at the words. Markus would say yes, he’d marry Connor if he asked. “I, I don’t know, but do you want to see it?”

“Yes! I’d love to, I’m sure it’s gorgeous.”

Connor held out the box, opening it carefully. The ring was simple walnut wood, a small inlaid line around the middle of glittering diamond flakes. He thought it was very pretty and would suit Markus well… if he accepted. If he had proposed.

Markus smiled so bright that Connor almost felt the need to look away. “It’s perfect. I’d be honored to wear it but I understand if you don’t want to anymore. I’ll wait forever for you, I’ll do anything, but if… if you don’t even want to be with me that’s ok too. I’ll respect whatever you decide.”

He would, Connor knew he would. That was just the way Markus was, so giving and loving. He’d agree to whatever Connor decided on without making it a huge mess. It’s part of why he loves him so much. Why he still wants to marry him.

“Yes,” he breathes out and he watches Markus’s face crumple before he realized what that sounded like. “Yes, I still want to marry you.”

Markus’s face quickly shifts to pure joy as he reaches forward and yanks him into a crushing hug. He almost drops the ring at the suddenness, but he wraps his arms around him too.

They are both crying now but no longer from sadness, instead it’s exciting and filled with so much happiness neither can contain it.

They pull back and Connor pulls the ring out of the box and slides it onto Markus’s awaiting finger. It looks perfect there and then they are kissing, pushing all their love through the interface they started without realizing. It’s not how Connor thought it would go but still, it happened, and Connor couldn’t ask for anything more.

#rk800 #connor #marcon #rk1000 fic #rk1k dbh #rk1k fic #dbh rk1000 #dbh rk1k #rk1k #rk1000 #markus dbh #markus rk200 #connor rk800 #dbh fandom #connor dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh #dbh connor #detroit markus #connor detroit become human #detroit become human connor #detroit: become human #dbh fanfic blog #fanfic #connor ask blog #dbh ask blog #dbh ask #answered ask #ask

[brattyfics]

— until we meet again, preciosa

PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)

SUMMARY || She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).

WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside it’s the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesn’t enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.

Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.

She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for ‘maintenance’.

Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayans’ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Don’t ask, don’t tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. There’s no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angel’s baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.

“Why don’t you put all that time and energy into something that’ll get you somewhere?” Being a musician wasn’t an acceptable career in her mother’s eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughter’s dreams. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise!” Staring out into the street, she can’t help but wonder where she would’ve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.

Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars weren’t his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.

Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat h’orderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. You’re beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.

For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didn’t think of herself as materialistic, but she couldn’t deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for more—time, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.

Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out your way.” Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadn’t heard him come outside; didn’t expect him to venture up into her personal space.

Isis’ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didn’t look impressed. He hated being Galindo’s delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, he’d also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a lover’s skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Don’t make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balcony’s edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.

Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesn’t let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But she’s all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He can’t think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. “You mind?” She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.

When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.

Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. It’s nice to be seen, especially when you’re the princess locked up far, far away from everyone you’ve ever known. She’s a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodness’ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.

With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what she’s been wanting to for months.

“Stay?”

Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.

Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. “Fuck.” If Miguel ever found out… But he already knew what his answer would be. He’d been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.

The subtle tension between them, he wasn’t even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling could’ve blinded her to all other men. But it didn’t.

When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldn’t resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.

He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he can’t.

She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairy’s gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful “Until we meet again, preciosa” line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once 😂 I’m really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently 🥴

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @amorestevens​

MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment

#mayans mc #bishop losa x oc #miguel galindo x oc #bishop losa x ofc #bishop losa x black!ofc

[mizgnomer]

Excerpts from the SyFy Wire & Film School Rejects interviews with Claire Anderson, the Emmy-nominated costume designer for Good Omens:

[ Film School Rejects - by Ciara Wardlow]  “I worked through it with gut reaction images. So, two guys. Two guys, kind of close, nearly in love, if you like,” she said. “I just went in and we had a really big, very open conversation about how you related to these people in the script and how we would make them real and plausible, but give them a fantasy element. Give them something otherworldly.”

While Anderson says that she ultimately took this approach with more or less all of the characters, mixing period and modern elements to give characters somewhat timeless, yet also somewhat fantastical “out of time” looks, in the early discussion stages it was all about Aziraphale and Crowley. For one thing, Sheen and Tennant were already cast, which was a major help in determining their looks. It took some time to settle on the duo’s main, contemporary looks, but once these were locked in they played a significant role in determining everything else they wore.

[...] Aziraphale maintains a look with significant nods to the late Victorian era. Crowley too, although he manages to put an edgier twist on things than his angelic contemporary. “We re-appropriate bits of period stuff so that it echoes. [Aziraphale and Crowley] echo one another in their visual identity with pieces from their past—where they’ve touched each other in the past perhaps, or bumped into each other.” Regarding how Crowley manages to keep more of a modern, cool vibe, Anderson gives David Tennant’s performance the lion’s share of the credit. “He’s a very nice man, but he’s very sexy. He brought all of that swagger, that rock star, snake-hipped sexiness, and we built on that.”

[ SyFy Wire - by Jennifer Vineyard] GARDEN OF EDEN, 4004 B.C. -  Anderson looked at everything from Pre-Raphaelite paintings to Al Pacino’s hippie clothes in Serpico to determine just the right flow for Aziraphale’s rough-hewn robe, which has gold embroidery on the shoulders and side. Aziraphale is also wearing a golden ring, which later becomes a signet ring stamped with wings in the Victorian era.

NOAH'S ARK, MESOPOTAMIA, 3004 B.C. - “As aged as I am, I wasn’t there,” Anderson says, laughing. “And there wasn’t any painting or documentation from this era. But what we do know is that tunics remained pretty simple, and the earlier shape would have served them well for many years.” Aziraphale’s robe becomes more streamlined, and he wears gold beads at the neck.

THE CRUCIFIXION, GOLGOTHA, 33 - By this time, both Aziraphale and Crawley — now Crowley — are wearing turbans and head wraps, which Anderson attributes to “a bit of vanity.” Plus the wrap helps Crowley conceal his snake-like eyes (it’s too soon for glasses). Aziraphale dons a soft leather coat over his tunic, while Crowley wears female attire of the region — an abaya.

ROME, 41 -  Switching from tunics to togas was difficult, since togas contain 6 to 12 meters of fabric, which is a lot to carry around on camera. Anderson reduced the size by cutting the togas to fit for the character’s movements, and she gave each actor a thematic decorative pin to hold their togas together — Crowley a serpent and staff, Aziraphale a pair of wings (both courtesy of George Easton at Danegeld Historic Jewellery). Although history might argue that it’s too soon for sunglasses, Crowley starts to shield his eyes with a very small, eye-shaped lens. “It’s suggestive, rather than historically accurate,” Anderson says. And as a sign that Crowley is adapting to the humans around him, he also wears a silver laurel wreath.

ARTHURIAN ENGLAND, THE KINGDOM OF WESSEX, 537 - Anderson sent character descriptions and visuals for Aziraphale and Crowley to armor specialist FBFX, which sent a van to London full of pieces that could work for angelic and demonic armor. Instead of focusing on historical accuracy, Anderson looked for shapes and fit that suggested an ethereal — or snakelike — quality, once the pieces had been painted black or silver. For Crowley, she found a helmet that had a smaller face that could suggest a snakehead, and for Aziraphale, shoulder pieces that were slightly wing-like. To add to the wing effect, Anderson added a white fur caplet to Aziraphale’s armor. “It was terribly grand, but not very practical,” she says. “And the poor guys, it was murderously uncomfortable to stand around in that armor.”

GLOBE THEATRE, LONDON, 1601 - Crowley and Aziraphale catch an early version of Hamlet, looking more period-appropriate than ever thanks to the Globe’s vast archive of costumes. Aziraphale’s wardrobe, which includes a neck ruff edged with gold thread, has a metallic look with a hint of iridescent blue, which opens up his color palette. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a cleaner neckline and leather on his doublet, as well as fabrics that provide sheen and luster to suggest his snaky origins.

REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE, PARIS, 1793 - This is not a period to be dressed like an aristocrat, but Aziraphale couldn’t resist a lace collar, gold brocade and fitted jacket — which explains why he’s stuck in a prison cell (at least until Crowley intervenes). Crowley, more mindful of what revolutionaries would wear, dons a dark red jacket that’s almost as dark as his usual black. When Aziraphale miracle-changes his clothes, he wears the red cap of liberty. “It’s a soft beret that falls somewhere between a modern French beret and a pirate headdress,” Anderson notes.

ST. JAMES' PARK, LONDON, 1862 - This is the time period with which Aziraphale gets most comfortable, fashion-wise, and settles into a Victorian look with tartan flair. Anderson also bestowed some heavenly nods to his angelic nature — a feathery velvet top hat, a stopwatch with angel’s wings on the chain, and the signet ring. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a pair of long, elegantly cut trousers that we will see again in the 1960s. “The trousers repeat, which is basically what fashion does anyway,” Anderson says. “And it’s what the story does. There are notes backward and forwards.”

THE BLITZ, LONDON, 1941 - Aziraphale’s tartan necktie becomes a bow tie, and his penchant for wide lapels, a nod to his wings, continues, this time with a spear-point collar. Crowley, who comes to save Aziraphale once again, is dressed more formally, in a full double-breasted wool suit that must have been hard for David Tennant to wear in the South African heat. “The rest of the crew were in flip-flops and T-shirts, and David was in the suit, hat, and those big boots,” Anderson says, recalling the shoot.  “He had to be very physically active in that scene, and yet David didn’t complain about the heat or anything. He’s amazing.”

SOHO, LONDON, 1967 - Crowley, as noted, continues to wear his Victorian trousers, which are right up to date, and which he pairs with a black paisley velvet jacket with contrasting lapels. His sunglasses now have more of a John Lennon vibe. Aziraphale, perhaps inadvertently, is also looking stylish with his Victorian topcoat, spear-point collar, and cravat (modified from his scarf in Victorian England). “You can’t avoid being affected by changing trends,” Anderson says. “However bookish you are, you still notice other people. And you would have had Rolling Stones and Beatles fans wearing that kind of thing. That was our argument for Aziraphale wearing his Victorian topcoat all the way through, and Michael Sheen loved it. He said it inspired him. And the cravat rang in the changes and helped us with the passage of time, rather than always having him wear a bow tie.

#good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable husbands #crowley and aziraphale #claire anderson #long post #tennant tuesday #costume design #apologies for the length of this post #but it was all so darn interesting! #(guess I should have done part 1 and part 2?) #stuff i posted #they put so much thought into everything #I hope they win that emmy! #I'll probably reblog this with the links intact when I get home tonight #because it's killing me to not include the links to these two articles #p.s. I love the bit about david's snake-hipped sexiness #good omens costumes long post

[haylanmakesstuff]

Day 21 and Day 0 of my 21 day Skeksis Costume Build

DAY 21: OCTOBER 30th

           The final full day; finishing the head and neck, lower body/skirt, and distressing the costume.

1.)    I finished up the skirt today, can you tell the craftsmanship went down the tube because it’s the day before Halloween and I needed to finish? Yeah. After matching the materials mentioned in the last post, I added some large sprigs of chiffon to a few places in the bottom for effect.

My apologies for the terrible mirror picture, my assistant has a job.

2.)    Now are the final finishes on the head. I glued on the head scythe and its base, then started putting black velvet around it. This was also part of the torn up kids kitty cat costume that was only $1.

I was nervous about the velvet pulling up so you can see I darkened the line where the latex meets the green foam with a black sharpie marker.

Now to add more black chiffon to the head materials.

Once all the material is added, gold paint was delicately put on, just like the collar.

3.)    I wanted to give the costume that ethereal, glittery look that so often appears in The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, so I sprayed the torso of the costume with spray glitter adhesive hair spray, and went really heavy on the collar part that is most glittery in the show/movie.

You’ll notice the black neck ruffles (that I see through) are pinned down in all these pictures. I’ve been training them to lay flat with these pins since I made them, where the day of Halloween they will lay flat easily and not look like a mess.

4.)    Now the body and head are almost done, here they are going to bed to await Halloween Day!

 DAY 0: OCTOBER 31st!

           I wasn’t completely done, but my 21 days were up. Halloween Day is a day to put on finishing touches and distressing. I figure 21 days is still accurate, because I did spend more than a whole day shopping, going to pumpkin patches, etc.

1.)    Time to take this bad boy out to the barn to finish up. I distressed the entire costume’s fabrics and robes with black spray paint to give it a worn, gross, and tired look that all the Skeksis have. Then I added on all the adornments I made pretty early on: The neck ornaments, collar spikes, the beetle brooch, and triangle necklace.

2.)    You can also see I added on a layer of stretched and dangly thin pieces of creepy cloth around the front collar, and strands of hot glue to dangle – the hot glue is supposed to look like spit strings, because...Skeksis are G.R.O.S.S. 

I also made some hot glue slobber coming off of the teeth and jaw. This is the final step for Halloween 2019! 

3.)    Now it was time to put the costume on and get some shots before it got dark and we headed out.

We headed into Austin for meeting and hassling people on 6th street at the cities huge Halloween celebration. I am partial to this one where I am chasing a kid:

I mean, is it really Halloween unless at least one kid cries? This year I was lucky to have multiple kids cry, and even some super scared adults.

 My friends and family are really into Halloween too, here are a few shots with them:

I did take one break out of the costume all night, and we were out between about 8:30pm to 2:15am. This was good to stretch, drink some water, relax. The costume wasn’t heavy at all and wasn’t near as tiring as I was worried it would be. I learned pretty early on that people LOVED it when I would dance. I was very surprised by how many people actually knew what I was from! I expected to be a hit with those that didn’t, just because it’s neat and scary, but a lot of people actually knew what a Skeksis was, or called me Chamberlain because that’s the only one they knew the name of. Fine by me of course!

Overall, I learned a lot about costume construction, as this costume was very different from any other I’ve ever created. 

Although this is the end of the 21 day build, I do wear this costume to the Cult Classic Convention in Feb 2020, and during quarantine worked to create the belly plate armor and the back of the costume that I knew I simply couldn’t get to in the 21 day build. There will be one more post sometime later with those details and the completely finished and polished costume -- the pandemic meant Halloween 2020 was cancelled for me, so I haven’t finished the back yet, but plan to this summer. 

Thanks for going on this journey through Thra and The Darkening with me. I love Jim Henson and the Creature Shop with my whole heart. This has always been a dream build of mine. I remember the actual day I heard Jim Henson passed away – I was in the 2nd grade, standing in my front yard, and I was devastated. At that point they thought he passed of pneumonia and my mom had pneumonia on that very day too, so I thought that surely meant she was going to die too. Lucky she didn’t, but we lost one of the most creative and inspirational human’s on that day. In high school for our career project I chose a mupeteer in the Creature Shop and the school was NOT having it. Then I tried Ringmaster of a Circus and they didn’t like that either. They didn’t want a girl to aim high or dream, I suppose! These movies and all of their work bring me happiness, fantasy, and magic, and no matter what I’m making, to him and all the people that put their hard work and love into things like The Dark Crystal, I owe a big thank you to for all of my creativity and crafting. Happy Halloween!

#dark crystal #Age of Resistance #skeksis costume #skeksis #jim henson #creature shop #muppets #cosplayer #costumer #halloween #halloween costume #maker

[liquid-luck-00]

Wayne Gala/Father-Daghter Dance

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 14: Wayne Gala and Day 16: Father-Daughter Dance

Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Knock, knock.

"Come in" Mari called, taking a shaky breath smoothing out her gown.

She was wearing a blush straight flowing skirt. The top was a 3/4 sleeve that was covered in silver lace and stones. Her hair was in loose waves falling over her shoulders. It was held back only by a twisted braids forming a crown around her head.

"Nervous?"

"Maybe a little" she laughed turning to face her dad.

He was wearing a simple fitted black suit with golden cuff links. His tie was a soft gold with hints of a caramel brown.

"We don't have to present you if that's what is worrying you" he wore a slight frown and worry laced his voice.

She gave him a smile "That's not it. It's just... I've never done an event like this"

"Oh. Well that is an easy fix"

"How?" she tilted her head.

"It is a masquerade, after all" he had picked up her mask and set it in place on her. It was silver form to look like a swan on her right eye and it’s head resting on her temple while the other one is beautiful filigree. There were gems on it which were all A pale rose color, this one shifted from its tail to its head silver to light blush and its beak.

"Oh" she giggled.

"Besides I won't be to far and neither will Selina." she began to smile. "Your brothers may end up not letting you out of their sights" she chuckled at this. "Besides I doubt Jon will leave your side."

"Dad!" she blushed furiously and he gave her a smirk.

"See nothing to worry about. We are all here for you." he kissed her forehead and lead her into the ballroom.

---

"Okay Dick. Spill" Jason sighed already done with the night. As he walked up to his brother who was watching the entrance.

He was in a charcoal suit with a crimson shirt and black tie. He was wearing a black and silver and white rabbit half mask covered with small swirls.

"Spill what Jay" Dick answered still smiling like the cheshire cat.

Dick was in a midnight blue fitted velvet suit accented with silver that matched his tie and a Bluejay sculpted it half mask.

"You look like the cat that ate the canary and if that's not guilty enough you keep scanning the room looking for something or someone."

"I'm not" he didn't finish that sentence.

"You are and unless you don't want to see this night through you'll talk."

"Okay, okay" he conceded. "You know how I spoke about getting Mari a date for tonight"

"Yeah... Shit Dick you didn't" great now I have to fix this, maybe the replacement and demon spawn will help keep this idiot's plan from succeeding.

"Two actually" Dick was now grinning like an idiot.

"And how sure are you that either will be right for our sister?"

"Well she did give me the names herself."

Okay not what he expected. "How?"

"She mentioned she had a crush on each of them. So I contacted them and they both agreed. Funnily though they were both on the guest list already" Dick began to ramble.

"Dick" Jason called getting his brother's focus again. "You said had. What were her words and think carefully."

"It was something about 'what a mess she was around them' I think. Why?"

"Was that's past tense" he nearly face palmed.

"Ya so?"

"Past crushes not her current" he holds Dick by his shoulders nearly shaking him.

"What's your point. Oh. Oh. I messed up" Dick finally seemed to realize.

"Ya you did, now let's see if we can fix this. What are their names?"

"Luka Couffaine and Adrien Agreste"

"Let's get the other two and try and fix your meddling if we ever want our sister to speak with us again." Dick nodded and the two of them went to find the demon spawn and replacement.

---

Jon found Mari not long after he had entered the ballroom. He was in a simple royal blue suit with a light gray shirt and silver bow-tie. His had on a domino mask which was a royal blue and mimicked a starry night sky, accented with silver clock gears, emphasizing his electric blue eyes.

"You look amazing Sunbeam" she gave him a smile.

"Thank you, but I've got to say you look great too." and he returned the smile.

"Would like to dance?" she giggled and was about to take his arm when someone called out.

"Marinette" he looked towards the voice and saw a blonde in a black suit and tie with a green shirt. His mask was a dark evergreen almost black and resembled a cat with ears and golden painted markings.

"Well look what the cat dragged in." Mari mocked and hugged the boy.

"I haven't been dragged anywhere." he put on an expression of mock hurt, reminding him of Dick, "Besides if I was dragged in this suit I would be avoiding you" she laughed at that. "You must be Mari's date, name's Adrien" he extended his hand towards him.

"Jon" and they shook hands.

"Just a warning. If you hurt her, even Batman will never find the body" he switched to a serious tone, but sounded more like a joke of a threat.

"Adrien" Mari hit his arm. "he is harmless to everyone but himself."

"Hey" Adrien pouted. "Let's just find Luka so we can start messing with your brothers" he grumbled.

"I hope you know what your getting yourself into right? Because I for one do not want to be on the wrong side of any of them" Jon warned.

"Trust me. After this Dick will never meddle in my love life again." Mari deadpanned a hard edge in her eyes as she explained their plan as they searched the room for the other player in this game while avoiding the bat boys.

"There he is" Adrien announced a few minutes later. "Looks like he's with Jagged that might be a problem.." Adrien frowned, the other boy had black hair with the tips dyed teal. the was in a black suit with a smoky actual shirt and gold tie. His mask was a white cat the left eye left in a dark blue and the left eye had a dark blue lightning bolt outlined in a hot pink with an electric blue unicorn horn.

"Leave Jagged to me" Sunbeam answered confidently.

"Tim is heading towards him." he added "Wait how are you going to handle Jagged" her smirk was the only response he got.

"The question we should be asking is how is she going to shake her brother and get away from Jagged?"

---

"Hello Luka" she stated plainly as she met the small group. "Hey Jagged, Penny"

"Marinette it's Rock'in to see ya" Jagged scooped her up in a hug. While Penny gave her a smile and pat her head. Jagged was in an electric purple blazer with white slacks, and a black shirt. He had a bronze untied tie and his mask was inspired by Fang in the same bronze as his tie. Penny's dress was an off the shoulder gown fading from white to purple to black at the train. The purple and black was lifted with bronze stars. Her mask was a fade between white and purple but it was completely made with glitter.

"Mari! Finally I found you" Tim had finally made it to their group. He was in a black suit and a light gold shirt with a red bowtie. He wore a golden half mask resembling a dragon with twisted horns. Jagged's arm was still over her shoulder. "And who is this?"

"Oh sorry, introductions" she clapped her hands.

"Melody would you like me to introduce us?" Luka offered.

"No its fine... This is Tim one of my older brothers" she smiled. "Tim this is Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, and this is Jagged Stone ” she finished.

"Mari if Jagged is your Uncle, Dad I think that means you have a nephew now" Luka added with a small smile in his eyes.

"Blimey you’re right" Jagged let Mari go and hugged Tim not letting him get in a word. "Any other sibling I need to meet Marinette?"

"Plenty" she laughed "But you should know Tim here is a big fan." she grinned. After that statement the Rocker seemed to make it his mission to get to know Tim. While Tim seemed to starstruck to answer, that and Jagged didn’t give him an6 time to answer.

"I think Jagged broke your brother" Penny stated with a chuckle.

"Don't worry he'll be back to normal soon" she laughed "Do you mind if I steal Luka away?"

"Of course, You do have your phone?" Luka nodded at her question and they walked towards Adrien and Jon.

"Jagged is going to keep your brother busy a longtime, Melody"

"So, Tim is taken care of. Whose next Mari?" Jon asked her.

"Hm, Who would feel played if he helped us mess with the others then flipped it on them?" she smirked.

"Damian" Jon answered confused.

"Wait we are recruiting your brother to mess with your brothers" Adrien asked, she nodded her head, "Mari you're more chaotic than the black cat himself."

"He'd be so proud, so lets find Damian"

"That shouldn't be to hard" Jon responded pointing behind him, "he's heading this way."

Sure enough Damian was stalking towards their little group. He was in a dark emerald suit with a black shirt and gold bow-tie. He wore a black kitsune fox mask with gold in the ears and dark green markings.

"Tt there you are Dick and Jason have been looking for you."

"Really what a coincidence so were we"

"Let's go" he turned around took a step before turning back around "Why?"

"Let me guess Dick figured out he isn't a good Cupid and now he is trying to fix his mess?"

"Yes. Your point"

"You know these two are some of my best friends, so they told me and we decided to prank them a bit tonight, we even got Jon to help"

"Perhaps I may assist as well" she couldn't see it but she knew her brother was wearing his trademark smirk under that mask. She nodded her head. "Okay so how are we going to handle those three."

"Two" Adrien corrected.

"Who did you deal with?"

"Tim" Jon answered this time.

"How?"

"Jagged" She piped in.

"Is he in this plan?"

"No that was all Mari" Luka replied. "But you might want to steer clear of my Dad for a while." Damian nodded his understanding.

"Best that we deal with Jason next then" he planned.

"Or we can get two birds with one stone" Adrien grinned. Everyone stared at at him in shocked silence.

"Care to explain Adrien" Luka finally broke the quiet.

"A game of monkey." he answered which seemed to confuse everyone. "We tell them the name of someone in the group and then only that person is seen."

"That will drive them insane" Damian commented "Let's do it"

That was exactly what they did. Dick and Jason seemed to always be five steps behind. By the time they spotted her and made their way to her she was gone.

At one point they decided to split up but then she didn't appear for an hour. Once they regrouped the game of cat and mouse continued.

By 11:30pm they had been at this for almost 4 hours and her brothers went up to the baloney but instead of watching the floor they were sitting upstairs. This is what she took as the cue to end their game of monkey.

"Hey you two. I heard you were looking for me." she smiled as she approached.

"Mari we've been look for you for hours." Dick called

"Wasn't the Demon with you at one point or another" Jason asked tired.

"I was" Damian responded next to him.

"Why didn't you bring her over then?" Dick asked their younger brother.

"Because it wouldn't have been half as annoying for you without him." Jon appearing and answering from between her and Dick.

"What do you mean? Was this just a game to keep us running around?" Jason seemed to be catching on.

"I've got to say it went better than planned" Adrien proudly stated as he made his appearance.

"Was Tim in on it?" Dick asked resigned.

"No Jagged got to him before we began, this game of monkey" Luka grinned from his spot on the railing watch those below.

"Jagged as in Jagged stone!" now Jason was at the railing looking for his brother and the Rockstar.

"We should probably rescue him now, huh?" Mari asked aloud.

"We should" Damian answered her "Father wants as all on the stage after the New Year count."

"I'll go get him" Mari offered.

"No I'll go" Dick responded. "Tim is only there because I set him to find you." he finished.

"Yes he is, but I'm the only one who is able to get in a word with Jagged" she countered walking away.

She was able to get Tim easily and the two made their way towards the others. By then Tim seemed to normalize a bit, he was a complete zombie after Jagged, that once they reached the others he finally spoke.

"When were you going to tell us Jagged Stone was your UNCLE!" he finished in a soft shout. At that her brother began questioning her but she had placed her face in her hands and shook her head.

"Jagged is my honorary Uncle" she sighed. "Besides dealing with all of you took up so much of the night that I need to find my date and apologize" she huffed. Jon 'mysteriously' vanished during the exchange.

---

"Wait if Mari had a date why did she leave, which one of you was it?" Drake was giving Agreste and Couffaine a stare.

However the two in question began to laugh. My three older brothers shared a look and explained what had occurred this evening.

"So who is this date she went to find?" Drake finally asked a relevant question.

"I have no clue" Grayson answered and again Couffaine and Agreste were laughing.

"Okay I get why you three wouldn't guess" Agreste pointed at Grayson, Todd, and Drake "But you've been with us, how could you not tell." Agreste was grinning.

That was when the pieces fell, Kent, he practically ran through the hall his brothers not far behind. The count down had started.

10

They still hadn't found those two.

9

He spotted his sister and best friend not far from his father and the stage.

8

7

6

5

They were about to reach them.

4

Kent pulled his sister in close.

3

She raised up on her toes.

2

They were right next to them.

1

They kissed and a flash was seen over his shoulder, Grayson must have taken a photo. They pulled away and then seemed to notice them.

"How long?" Damian asked his sister.

"How long we've been dating or how long it took for you to figure out you were played?" she asked him removing her mask.

"The moment I offered to help I was played, I realize that" he answered begrudgingly.

"So how long have you been dating" Grayson asked impatiently. A smile clear on his face and amusement in his unmasked eyes.

"Not long" his father answered as he made his way towards them. "It's been about a week. Besides it's time Mini."

---

Standing on the stage was Damian next to Dick who was on my right. On my left was Selina, they Jason and finally Tim.

"Hello everyone" he began to gain everyone's

attention. "As this is a new year and new beginning I would be honored to introduce as well as reveal to you all the very talented designer MDC" Marinette walked on the stage from the right.

"Hello I am Marinette of Marinette's Designs and Creations" she smiled and spoke confidently. There was a series of polite applause and when it ended I spoke again. "I am also pleased to announce that Marinette is also my daughter." That arose some questions from the reporters in the room.

But it was Lois whose question caused the room to fall silent.

"Is she another adoptive child or biological" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"She is my child biologically, she is also the youngest of all my children. He smiled and that seemed to placate most of them.

As he and his family walked off the stage Lois and Clark were waiting with Jon.

"Mari anything you want to say?" Lois questioned her.

"Um" she looked confused and Lois gave a small laugh before showing her, her phone. It was a photo of her and Jan sharing the Midnight kiss. Mari turned bright red and as he looked at Jon who matched her blush.

"I get the first interview” she smiled as she hugged Mini.

"Okay" she smiled and returned the hug.

"Care for a dance Mini?" he asked hoping to keep the mood light. She nodded and made their way to the dance floor.

They danced together for about four songs before Jon took her and they began to dance instead.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

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[i-watch-too-many-movies]

5 Favorite First Viewings of July 2021

Quick note: Hi everyone, I'm back, things have honestly been getting better for me, and I'm glad to be on this site full of cinephiles, people that are too horny, and cinephiles that are too horny. I'll be more active on here. But anyway, let's talk about some movies.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970) (dir. Russ Meyer)

CW: Abortion mention

What a picture. What a gorgeous, sexy, horrifying slice of what Hollywood and star life can do to a bunch of bright-eyed young people looking for success. Also is a critique of how macho nature can ruin friendships and romantic relationships with total ease. I was obsessed with the scene transitions, like Pet pouring pancake mix onto a plate after the abortion scene, or Kelly singing after someone screams before their murder in the opening scene.

Great, campy flick with exceptional music too.

Deep Cover (1992) (dir. Bill Duke)

Laurence Fishburne plays Russell Stevens, a Cincinnati police officer who hopes to do well by the community, to make a difference. He’s traumatized by the death of his substance-abusing father, and wants to make sure that he can help the people of his own town. He goes undercover on assignment as a drug dealer, where his boss orders him to take down the kingpin. Stevens realizes the police’s own failings while on assignment. The racist abuse he takes from Agent Carver, and the realization that the police department is protecting drug kingpins like Gallegos and Barbossa. Giving drugs to Black kids and Latinx kids so there will be less of them. The cops are no different than the drug kingpins looking to make filthy amounts of money.

Fishburne’s performance is excellent, as Stevens feels he has to maintain a stone face so he doesn’t get caught by Jason or Barbossa or any of his cronies, but also he maintains a stone face to try and hide his emotion, his trauma. But when he gets pissed, Fishburne acts it beautifully, as is when he has to deliver a funny quip to counter Jason’s douchebaggery. And the production design, holy fuck, the sets and the lighting.

A perfect neo-noir for the HW Bush years, arguably one of the most timeless commentaries on the era, as well as the police as a whole.

Fast Five (2011) (dir. Justin Lin)

I was torn between including this or Furious 7, but I ultimately went with Fast Five because it felt like an important turning point in the series, it's a great heist film, and it reached the same chaotic highs and genuinely excellent filmmaking that I had been waiting for since 2 Fast and Tokyo Drift.

Fast Five opens where Fast & 4ious left off. Dom is hauled away to prison on a bus. Mia and Brian drive in their high-tech cars and knock the bus over, helping Dom escape. The title drops. Fast Five. It’s such an intense yet short action scene, and dropping the title immediately after it lets the viewer know that this movie is not fucking around. It’s arguably gonna be more intense and insane than the previous one.

And it is. The filmmakers made the decision to use a lot more practical stunt work for the film, and as a result, it leads to, so far, the best action in the entire series, since 2 Fast and Tokyo Drift. It’s not just how it’s shot or edited, it’s the geography of the locations, the rooftop chase echoes the rooftop chase of Jackie Chan’s masterwork Police Story, particularly the way each character bounces from top to top.

And of course, there’s the silliest moment in the movie, the one that matches the intensity and kineticism of a film like 2 Fast, which is driving the Reyes’ bank vault throughout the street, getting chased by corrupt cops.

I know we make fun of Vin Diesel for saying “family” all the time in these films, but there’s a reason we remember him saying all of these impassioned monologues. Because he’s unbelievably sincere, and has so much love in his heart for every single person in the room. Anytime he delivers a speech to any of them, it’s genuinely heartwarming.

This is the film that finally shows La Familia in their best environment, which is working together, in a movie genre that allows them to work together, which is a heist film. And a great one at that.

Last Days (2005) (dir. Gus Van Sant)

CW: Mention of suicide

Several films have been made about legendary rock artist Kurt Cobain, and for good reason. He is one of the most tragic figures in rock and roll. A tortured genius who has written and performed classic song after classic song with his band Nirvana. He was called the voice of a generation, and helped change the face of mainstream alternative rock music as we know it. But with that fame, and all of those expectations came a worsening depression and further drug abuse, and his eventual death. But most of the films about Kurt Cobain ask one question which gets under my skin way too much:

“Who REEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLY killed Kurt Cobain?”

It was him. He did. And it’s okay, I’m sad too. Thinking that Kurt Cobain was murdered is completely ignoring the depression that he faced. And despite Last Days being more inspired by the death of Cobain rather than actually about it, it feels much more honest than the conspiracy documentaries on his death, wanting to leech off of his dead body.

This is the last installment of Gus Van Sant’s “Death Trilogy”, the previous two installments being Gerry (2001), and Elephant (2003). While I have not seen Gerry, I have seen Elephant though, and love that film for its minimalist, raw nature, and its boldness for not romanticizing the school shooter or the lives they had taken. Last Days falls into that trap once, as I don’t agree with the shot of Blake’s soul climbing up a ladder, that always struck me as cheesy in a film that is anything but.

Last Days is similar to Elephant in terms of the way it is filmed. Its usage of long takes, and still shots of characters doing various things, such as Blake playing his guitar behind a drum set. The way these moments are shot is similar to a Chantal Akerman film, particularly Jeanne Dielman. Where the acts of the mundane are the stars of the film. Blake wanders around an empty house, and the viewer can feel the pain, not just through Michael Pitt’s acting, but from the house itself. Its decay, its paint peeling from the walls, from the soft glow of the lamp that lights his face.

I say this is the most honest film about Kurt Cobain, because, despite the characters technically being fictional (the main character who looks, walks, and acts like Cobain is named Blake), this film focuses on the mental state of a person before they eventually take their own life. They’re still working, still making music, still trying to talk to friends and bandmates, but the depression lingers on. Not once does this film try to make you believe that someone else killed him, because you can see the signs of his own suicide taking place just through the film’s excellent cinematography by Harris Savides, showing his mental state only growing worse through the production design.

And it’s empathetic with him. There’s no judgement for leaving rehab, there’s no finger-wagging at him or the people he was with, there’s just a silent prayer at the end of the film, hoping that he is in a better place than he was.

Sometimes you don’t need to show every event that led you to where you are, all you can show is the moment, which also makes this better than most biopics as well, as it never feels messy or muddled, just showing one moment of Blake/Kurt’s life.

I really loved this film, and I’ll be writing about it in full soon.

The Village (2004) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan)

The Cracked.com/Channel Awesome audience stuck in 2012 will tell you that this was the beginning of the end for Shyamalan. That this was when people stopped taking him seriously, that this was when he became more of a punchline because of his twist endings.

But why?

The Village was released in 2004, deep in the Bush administration, during the early stages of the Iraq War. The leaders of the time were talking about imaginary boogeymen, terrorists that would attack the civilians if they could. Because of 9/11, politicians could get away with these false ideas with the majority of Americans fully believing them. The boogeymen in The Village are “The People We Don’t Speak Of”, monsters attracted by the color red. Yet we find out that they are all costumes made by the Elders of the land, designed to prevent people from going outside the land. They rule by fear disguised as love. They’ve gone through their own traumas through the deaths of their family members, but they’ve decided to completely abandon the lives that they’ve had and have their children living lies.

9/11 impacted American life by teaching citizens to live primarily by fear, to not trust anyone but their own people. And yet, post-9/11, all that increased was not “coming together”, but hate crimes against South Asian people. The rage white Americans had felt led to conservative politicians pushing fear-mongering agendas, and said white Americans blindly accepted. The outside world was progressing, but too many people were fine with living with further conservative politics only regressing American life further and further back, all for the illusion of safety. Meanwhile, the only threats to them were not the brown citizens outside of America they were so afraid of, but the white elders, the white politicians.

The Village explores these fears so eloquently, all while having a terrifying atmosphere, an enchanting score, and brilliant sound design. I enjoyed this movie very much.

Other viewings I enjoyed:

Beavis and Butt-Head Do America (1996) (dir. Mike Judge) (re-watch)

Blow Out (1981) (dir. Brian de Palma) (re-watch)

Clueless (1995) (dir. Amy Heckerling) (re-watch)

Furious 7 (2015) (dir. James Wan)

The Long Goodbye (1973) (dir. Robert Altman)

Lupin III: The First (2019) (dir. Takashi Yamazaki)

Unbreakable (2000) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan) (re-watch)

Velvet Goldmine (1998) (dir. Todd Haynes)

The Visit (2015) (dir. M. Night Shyamalan)

#favorite first watches #these movies are (chef's kiss) #beyond the valley of the dolls #russ meyer #deep cover #bill duke #fast five #justin lin #last days #gus van sant #the village #m night shyamalan

[hxneyandespressx]

if i were a man (i’d be the man)

summary: jj holds a press conference while on a high-profile case. she has to deal with the stupid male reporters. after the conference is done, jj goes to the nearest bathroom, away from the crowd, and screams and swears to her heart’s content

word count: 6.2k 

content warnings: mentions of emotional and verbal abuse, guns, violence, blood, suicide

a/n: inspiration for this fic is from criminal minds season 4 episode 16 “pleasure is my business”

☆。*。☆。

It was a rough start to a Wednesday morning for a particular FBI agent. She almost twisted her ankle on her early morning jog, got stuck in traffic, and had to wait in a long line for her co-workers’ coffee orders. Soon enough, she started to wish that she took the metro instead. Media communications liaison Jennifer “JJ” Jareau woke up today and chose violence. She huffed in frustration at how her morning went.

Walking toward the bullpen with the coffee orders in her hands, JJ was greeted with “hellos” and “good mornings”. Not wanting to have her co-workers profile her, JJ bottled up her frustration and grumpiness and put a smile on her face. It was a rule amongst the group to never profile each other. With learning an assortment of profiling tactics, JJ knew how to form a realistic smile without genuine happiness. Creases around the eyes, smile lines contoured the mouth, sparkles in her baby blue eyes. The short blonde perfected the fake smile that could fool anyone, even expert profilers.

“Good morning, guys.” JJ said with a bright smile on her face. She held two cardboard trays filled with various coffee orders. She placed one of the trays on Emily’s desk, so she can pass out the orders to her co-workers. She called out the order name as she passed the cup to the person.

“One French vanilla latte for Ms. Garcia. Two black coffees for Emily and Derek. And finally, a coffee with extra cream and sugar for Spence.” Everyone said their thank you’s to the blonde. Then, there was one coffee cup left. A cappuccino.

“Happy Wednesday, my nerds.” Rossi said as he approached the group of tired agents. JJ smiled and handed the cappuccino to the elderly man.

“Grazie.” He thanked the media liaison for her efforts to bring his favorite morning beverage. The group spent some time chatting nonsense before the case briefing. Thirty minutes went by and all of them disbursed into their desks to finish up the paperwork. JJ headed down to her office to work on choosing the next case after the one that was currently ongoing.

After settling in her office chair, JJ took a look around her office. Messy stacks of pending files scattered her desk. Empty coffee cups and water bottles lined the file cabinet. JJ checked the time on her watch. 8:12 AM. About two hours to kill. The blonde put her hair up into a ponytail and took in a deep breath. She dove into the nearest pile of manila files, looking through all the documents and photographs to determine which case for the BAU team to take on after the current case.

As the clock ticked closer to 10 AM, JJ picked up today’s case files and head out of her office. Strutting through the bullpen, JJ entered the briefing room slightly out of breath.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” JJ said while passing the manila folders out to her co-workers. After handing out the necessary materials, she grabbed the remote from the center of the wooden table.

“Sam Winchester was found in Fulton Park, in the Stuyvesant Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. Eighteen stab wounds to his chest and neck,” JJ explained as she clicked on the remote to switch between the crime scene photos. “He is one of the victims dumped at various locations of Brooklyn that was found last night.”

“Hold up. One of the victims?” Derek asked.

“Yeah. So far this killer built up a rep sheet of five kills.” JJ stated. Hotch raised one of his eyebrows at the new information.

“Seven? Why haven’t the NYPD notified us immediately after the first three kills?” Hotch asked the media liaison.

“Probably the department thought they could handle the crimes,” JJ explained. “That was the case until they realized that they needed help.”

The young blonde switched to the next slide, showing one of the other victims dumped in North Williamsburg.

“What’s interesting about the locations is that the first victim was drowned in the Hudson River. And as more victims appear, the disposal methods get more dramatic. Maybe it plays some role in the unsub’s pathology.” Spencer said as he looked at the screen, observing for any patterns.

“Like with one of the recent victims, the disposal site is in Cobble Hill. It’s typically occupied by those who are relatively wealthy.” Rossi said to continue Spencer’s thoughts. “This unsub is getting bolder with his disposal sites. I’m concerned with there being an end game to this.” Emily stated. Everyone at the round table shifted through the various crime scene photos and documents. Rossi took hold of one of the crime scene photographs: a reversed ten of cups tarot card. “It is also apparent that the unsub is leaving tarot cards at the scene of the crime.”

“Tarot cards? What’s the significance?” Derek asked.

“Maybe to tell of the inevitable fortune the victims faced?” Emily said. 

“Well, each card has a different meaning when it is upright and reversed. And usually, when doing a reading, three to five cards are pulled to tell a fortune.” Penelope explained as she typed away on her work laptop. It had not surprised anyone that the technical analyst had an interest in tarot readings and astrology.  

“You know, the first documented tarot packs were recorded between 1440 and 1450 AD in Milan, Ferrara, Florence, and Bologna when additional trump cards with allegorical illustrations were added to the common four-suit pack. These new decks were called carte da trionfi, triumph cards, and the additional cards are known simply as trionfi, which became "trumps" in English. The oldest surviving tarot cards are the 15 Visconti-Sforza tarot decks painted in the mid-15th century for the rulers of the Duchy of Milan. The Duke of Milan described a 60-card deck with 16 cards having images of the Roman gods and suits depicting four kinds of birds.” Spencer talked about the history of tarot cards, with hand gestures to accompany his little ramble. When he finished, everyone at the table stared at him. The young FBI agents sheepishly smiled as Emily poked his left cheek.

“Since when did you learn about tarot cards?” Emily asked. 

“I learned about it when I took a college course on the Italian Renaissance.” Spencer sheepishly smiled.

“Well, whatever it is, it seems like there is a story to be told––or rather to be heard.” JJ said as she stared at the crime scene photos, her eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment.  

“That’s what we need to find out. Wheels up in 20.” Hotch called out. 

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The BAU members sat comfortably on the jet, each in their little world. That was until the unit chief called on everyone for a case discussion. 

“Let’s go over victimology.” Hotch said to call on the group. Everyone moved closer to the unit chief to better discuss the case. Derek sat in an armchair, with Emily next to him. Across from them were Spencer and JJ. Hotch leaned against one of the seats, practically sitting on the adjustable arm of the plane seat. Rossi sat on the tan velvet couch, adjacent to JJ. 

“Reid.” Hotch called on the genius of the group. 

“White. Male. Between the ages of 45-55. Jobs ranging from a stockbroker to assets protection manager. All of them have cheated on their wives multiple times and some even had sexual harassment accusations.” The young curly-haired man said to start the discussion. 

“Even if these men cheated on their wives and got those accusations, they still didn’t deserve the multiple stab wounds to meet their end.” Emily said. 

JJ looked through the case file to see the reports on all five victims.

“The victims’ names are Igor Andreevich, Lucas Duncan, Hunter Mcevoy, Sam Winchester, Jared Kalinski.” JJ called the names out like it was a roll call. 

“These are the five victims that this unsub killed so far?” Hotch asked. The blonde nodded her head and said “yes, sir” in response.

“As the victim count increased, the more stab wounds appeared on the body.” Rossi said to point out an observation.

“But the M.E. said that most of these stab wounds were created post mortem. Meaning that the initial stab was to get the job done efficiently and he went back in to fuel his rage and/or sexual needs.” Spencer

“Are we assuming his sexual orientation? Because there aren’t many homosexual serial killers, kid” Rossi said. 

“It could be a possibility. We have to consider our options.” Hotch said. 

Just then, the laptop turned on and showed the beautiful Penelope Garcia. 

“How’s it going, my crime-fighting musketeers?” Penelope asked. Everyone, even Hotch, smiled at her cheery greeting.

“Garcia, start compiling files on each of our victims,” Hotch told the technical analyst. “Everything financial and personal. Bank statements, credit card bills, investments, wills, trust funds. Anything that will tell us more about the victim’s lives.”

“Faster than a Hotch rocket.” After that was said into the air, Penelope felt embarrassed while Hotch looked at her with his usual stone-cold face. Derek sighed and shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his second-hand embarrassment for his babygirl.  

To break the silence, Rossi grunted and coughed into his fist. 

“Based on the jobs these men had, we could safely assume that they were killed in the financial district of New York. Then, the unsub transported the bodies to a dumpsite.” Emily said as she read off from the case file in her hands.

“But why from Manhattan to Brooklyn? That is a lot of weight to carry.” Derek asked. 

“Maybe Brooklyn holds a lot of significance to him. Something from his childhood and he can’t let go.” JJ said. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement as they all closed their files. 

“Once we land, do you want me to get in contact with the media to inform the public?” The media liaison asked the unit chief.

“No. We need to hold back on it. Giving him the media’s attention is exactly what he wants. He wants his story to be heard and we will not give him that.” Hotch explained. JJ nodded in response and wrote down media concerns in her small blue notepad. 

“Dave, You and Prentiss go to the crime scene,” Hotch instructed the group. “The rest of us will get up to speed at the precinct.” Everyone nodded in agreement with the unit chief.

After discussing the victimology and the nature of the case, everyone separated and occupied their own space on the jet. Derek on the couch, listening to music. Spencer by the window, reading the Hound of the Baskervilles. Rossi and Hotch in the back, conversing whatever two elderly men talk about. 

The blonde media liaison stared out of the window until she felt a presence next to her. She looked away to find Emily standing in the aisle with a cup of coffee and a bag of Cheetos in her hands.

“Want some company?” Emily asked as she took the empty seat.

“I don’t mind at all.” JJ smiled at the brunette. The shorter woman felt special that Emily did this for her. She took the Cheetos and the coffee mug from her co-worker. As she grabbed them, their fingers brushed against each other. A little pink blush formed on JJ’s cheeks. Not wanting Emily to know about the silly crush the blonde had on her, JJ covered half her face with her beloved blue blanket. Emily chuckled at JJ’s actions and placed her hand on the blonde’s right shoulder, closing her eyes for a quick nap. 

JJ carefully took some of her dark blue blanket and wrapped it around Emily’s right shoulder. She looked at the brunette who was sleeping on her shoulder and softly smiled.

The blonde took sips of the coffee as she stared out of the window. The sunlight bounced off the water particles in the clouds, creating a mini rainbow over the tops of the white clouds. The media liaison took in the silence as a treat, before landing into the chaos of New York.

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A government-mandated black SUV arrived at the 25th precinct. Everyone––sans Emily and Rossi––got out of the car and was greeted by a lively short woman. 

“Detective Miller? We spoke on the phone.” JJ shook hands with the short woman. 

“Please, call me Kennedy. Thanks for coming in.”

“No problem. These are agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Doctor Reid.” JJ introduced them while gesturing at the person, in respective order.

“Hey, why don't you go on inside and make yourself comfortable.” Kennedy said. The remaining BAU members nodded their heads and made their way inside the busy precinct. Police officers swarmed everywhere as the federal agents weaved their way to an empty conference room. 

Everyone worked at a swift pace to get everything set up. JJ and Derek went with a police officer to get boxes filled with case files and other materials. Hotch talked with Detective Miller to get information on how her officers dealt with the unsub so far. While all this is happening, Spencer worked on the geographical profile, so the agents know where to look for the unsub. 

“What do these tarot cards mean?” Hotch asked the group. Everyone shook their head “no”, signifying that they had no clue what each card meant. 

“I’ll call Penelope and ask her about the meanings of the cards.” Derek said as he took out his flip phone to dial Penelope’s number.

“Live from Quantico, Virginia, it is the Divine Miss Penelope.” Penelope greeted the group. 

“Hey, sugar mama. I need something from you.” Derek said.

“Talk to me.”

“I need you to interpret the meanings of the tarot cards that were left at the different crime scenes.”

“Ah- I’ll be your little witch today. Hit me with have you have.”

“Alright, I’m putting you on speaker.” Derek puts down the phone on the wooden table, so everyone could hear what the technical analyst has to say. 

“Ten of Cups, Garcia.” Hotch said. 

“When upright, the Ten of Cups embody happiness, joy, contentment, and emotional satisfaction in your family, relationship, or companion. It represents an idyllic state of comfort, harmony, peace, and love which makes you feel like you are in paradise. When reversed, it could mean shattered dreams, disharmony, or a broken family.” Penelope explained. 

“Reversed Wheel of Fortune card.” Spencer called out. 

“When the wheel is reversed, it means that luck has not been on your side and misfortunes have been following you. When it's associated with this card, you must understand that these are due to external influences that you cannot control.” Penelope said. 

“Reversed Justice card.” Derek said next.

“A reversed Justice tarot card could indicate various things. One Justice reversal meaning is to show you are living in denial. You are not willing to accept the consequences of your actions or others. You are running from your guilt. You must, however, be aware that these are actions that are in the past. Other Justice reversal meanings could be injustice, retribution, dishonesty, corruption, dishonesty, unfairness, and avoiding accountability.” The technical analyst interpreted. 

“Lastly, the reversed Emperor.” JJ said the final card they had. 

“The Emperor reversed is a sign of abused authoritative power. In your social life, it can manifest in the overreach of power from a father figure or a possessive partner.” Penelope described the final tarot card.

With all the information in their heads, the BAU members felt puzzled about how to move forward. 

“How are these cards related to the crime scenes?” Derek asked. 

“It’s like a performance,” Penelope chimed in. Everyone turned their heads to listen to the cheery woman on the phone. “Like there is a story behind these killings. The cards are telling how the unsub is feeling. She wants us to know her story.” Everyone stood in shock when Penelope made a breakthrough in the case.

“Wait, Garcia. You said ‘she’. Why do you think it is a woman?” Hotch asked.

“Well, sir. The first victim was drowned, with no signs of sexual assault on his body. Doesn’t that usually indicate that the unsub is a woman?”

“Not necessarily but it is a quiet and efficient way of murdering someone.” Hotch explained. 

“Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don’t have much information on them. But what we do know involves throwing the riles completely out of the window,” Spencer started going on one of his rambles. “For example, female serial killers typically don’t leave a signature.”

“But this one leaves tarot cards at the scene.” Derek pointed out.

“Maybe it was what Garcia said: she’s telling us her story.” JJ said. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning. What could be inferenced from her childhood?” Hotch asked. 

“She could have had a domineering father who worked on Wall Street. And with that dynamic, he could have sexually and emotionally abused her, making her feeling like damaged goods.” Spencer explained the backstory of the unsub. “Also because the victims cheated on their wives, we could also conclude that the father also cheated on the mother, who always forgave her husband and tried to rationalize to stay for her daughter. And that made the unsub feel rage and being inferior. That she didn’t do anything to help her mother and herself.”

“But there is no indication of sexual gratification.” Hotch interjected. 

“However, there’s a reason why there are so many lacerations on the later victims. It could be the rage from her abusive father that this unsub is using against the victims, who acted like surrogates.” Derek said. 

“The stressor?” Hotch asked. 

“To follow her father’s footsteps, she may have also worked in the financial field. As a stockbroker, a financial analyst, or even as a secretary for a company,” Spencer said. “And as she continued at her job, she had a bunch of little comments and slights against her”

“As for the trigger, maybe she got passed up for a promotion by a male co-worker who was less qualified than she was.” JJ explained. 

“Any sane person would get miffed about it, but she’s built differently,” Derek said. 

“So much so, she killed five men so far.” Hotch said. 

“And she did it in an efficient manner where no one had any idea until now,” Derek said right after the unit chief. “But how did one woman kill five men in one borough and disposed of them in another?”

“She must know the area like the back of her hand. Brooklyn is what? Around 72 square miles?” JJ said in response to Derek. 

“Uh, 69.5.” Spencer corrected JJ. The blonde sighed, not surprised that the boy genius would know the exact measurement. 

“And the fact that no one has seen her either abduct or dispose of says she knows the city and its patterns well.” Derek said to continue what JJ had said before she was cut off by the boy genius. Just then, both Rossi and Emily had returned from the latest crime scene. In Emily’s hands were coffee cups on cardboard trays while Rossi had Chinese takeout. Everyone shared the food as they continued to work on the case. Being the little tease he was, Derek flung a wonton piece at Spencer, who was struggling to eat with the wooden chopsticks. The wonton piece gently hit Spencer’s forehead and the boy genius pouted, hiding his frustration at both the chopsticks and Derek.

“The M.E. said that the cuts were clean, no serrated edges. It would have to be a very sharp knife to be able to cut through human skin like nothing.” Emily said, to drive the discussion about the M.O.

“A knife like that could get the job done efficiently. Could be the work of a throwing knife. Take out the victim with a single throw to have them die quickly, then she stabs them to feel something.” Derek said. 

“Throwing knives? What is she? A secret agent of the Dai Li?” Rossi joked sarcastically. 

“From Avatar the Last Airbender?” Hotch retorted, remembering that his son Jack watches that show on Saturday mornings. 

“What’s Avatar the Last Airbender?” Spencer asked. Nobody bothered to answer the young man’s question. 

 “But this one is different. It’s like the more she kills, the more anger builds up inside and it gets released on the victim when she goes back in.” JJ stated. 

It became silent in the conference room, quite the opposite to the noise of the New York precinct in the evening rush hour. Tired from both traveling and working, Hotch could see that the rest of his team was also exhausted from the day. The unit chief called everyone to head to the hotel and rest, as they can always come back to the precinct tomorrow morning. 

Slowly one by one, each of the agents packed their things and get out of the New York precinct, and hopped into the cars, praying the soft hotel beds would lull them into a deep slumber.

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Day Three at the New York precinct. All the BAU members were getting irritated that they hadn’t proceeded much on the case. Derek tossed a small basketball up and down to pass the time. Spencer twirled a pen as he stared at the geographical profile, the gears turning in his mind. Both Hotch and Rossi were discussing the case quietly while JJ and Emily doodled on each others’ arms. The blonde was innocently drawing hearts and flowers until Emily came up with an idea. Feeling a tad mischievous, Emily took her sharpie marker and started to outline something on the media liaison’s left forearm. JJ raised an eyebrow, questioning what her co-worker was doing. As the image came together, JJ gasped softly, however, not surprised that Emily drew a vagina. 

Emily quietly laughed as JJ, annoyed by the brunette’s actions, took her sharpie marker and tried her best to transform the vagina drawing into a flower. Taking her time, and with only a sharpie, JJ showed off her artistic talent by creating a masterpiece: a carnation blooming out of a vagina.

Emily rolled her eyes when JJ stuck out her tongue at the brunette. Taking Emily’s right arm, the media liaison started to outline a grid for a game of tic tac toe. The brunette started the game by marking an “x” in a spot and JJ took her turn. The two women continued their game of tic tac toe and 

Everyone was silent in their own world until Hotch’s phone rang. The unit chief picked it up and it was a number he couldn’t recognize. Hotch silently motioned Derek to call Penelope to start triangulating the call’s location. 

“Hotchner.”

“Hello, Aaron.” A sultry voice talked. On the other side of the call was the unsub, Taylor Evans. 

“Seems you know my name.” Hotch asked.

“I researched you in preparation for this phone call,” Evans said. Through the phone receiver, Hotch could hear the soft whooshes of pages turning. 

“You reading a book? What’s the title?”

“Le monde comme il va by Voltaire,” Taylor closed her book. “Have you read his work?”

“No, I haven’t. You seem highly educated.” Hotch stated. 

“You seem to know a lot about me.” Taylor retorted.

“But I don’t know you that well since the start of this phone call.” Hotch responded. 

“What would you like to know?” Taylor asked. 

“May I know your name, for starters?” Hotch asked. A cold laugh could be heard through the landline speaker. 

“Evans. Taylor Evans.” the unsub replied. 

“Nice name,” Hotch complimented her to bring her guard down. 

“Now that we are acquainted, you can ask me questions.” the unsub’s content sigh could be heard on the landline. 

“Has life been hard on you?” Taylor asked, wanting to jump the gun. 

“I try my best.”

“Try my best,” Taylor said mockingly. “Is that the best you can do for your family?” A sarcastic tone filled Taylor’s voice, not liking what the unit chief said in response to her question. 

“With what I’ve got.” Hotch said. 

“You got any children?” Taylor said to divert the conversation. 

“I have a son.”

“How often do you see him?” 

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” Taylor tried to put Hotch under pressure, to get him to crack. 

“No, I don't get there as often as I want.” A pitiful sigh was heard on the phone.

“I believe you, but don’t compare yourself to the men I see and work with. You are nothing like them. You’re just another whore.” Taylor said with such disgust in her tone. 

“How am I a whore?” Hotch asked. 

“You come when called on short notice. Begging to be put to work. Saving your reputation. However, even though you’re a workaholic, you make the time to see your son. You care for your son. You want the best for him.” Taylor explained. 

“You’re right. I do want the best for him” Hotch said. The unsub sighed, wishing that she had a good man, like Hotch, for a father.  

“Enough about you. What do you have to say about me?” Taylor asked the unit chief. 

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying.” Hotch explained. 

“Good deductive reasoning,” Taylor said. “But how do you know if what I find provides me less satisfaction each time?”

“It’s a part of your nature. Until you hit a psychotic break and start devolving.” Hotch said. 

“Hm. Want to find out, Agent Hotchner?” She hung up on him after that last sentence. Everyone in the conference room stayed silent in awe. The unsub injecting herself into the investigation surprised all the agents in the room. 

“She contacted us,” Spencer said in astonishment, breaking the silence. 

“She’s getting impatient. Have Garcia look up everything on Taylor Evans. We need to find if she lines up with the preliminary profile.” Hotch instructed Derek. The olive brown-skinned man did exactly what the unit chief said: call Penelope and extract as much information as possible on the potential unsub.

“Her use of the word whore is interesting,” Spencer quipped. “It suggests she's trying to disassociate herself from her actions.”

“But she's become more personal with the murders,” Emily said. “This doesn’t make sense. She is contradicting herself.”

After gathering the information, and debilitating on the facts, everyone came to the same conclusion: Taylor Evans was their unsub. 

“Reid, tell Detective Miller that it’s time to deliver the profile.” Rossi said. 

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Every law enforcement officer occupied the main space of the precinct. All of the BAU members stood at one side, making it like a stage. JJ stood beside Emily, thinking to herself that she could have been this girl in a way. Both her and the unsub look eerily similar, maybe even mistaken for each other. 

“We wanted to give out the profile as soon as possible. We’re looking for a white female, between the ages of 20 and 25,” Hotch said to start the profile. “Her name is Taylor Evans. Dirty blonde hair with grey eyes. She’s organized, methodical, and knows how to blend in with the crowd.”

“When this unsub kills, she does so mercilessly and without an ounce of pity. She also wants her victims to know they are going to die by her hand.” Rossi said. 

“That’s why her preferred weapon of choice is throwing knives. They provide a clean cut. No mess required.” Emily said, slowly rocking on her heels. 

“With her choice of weapon, she can be quick and efficient with her kills, as murder is her only goal,” Spencer paused to catch a breath. “But all the bottled-up rage gets released when she goes in for a second time, post mortem, and stabs the body multiple times.”

“It is a way for her to get sexual gratification. And revenge, from her years of being emotionally and sexually abused by her father,” Rossi said. “The victims fit the description of her father and they are surrogates for him.”

“She is also a textbook psychopath, exhibiting all of the classic traits: incapability of feeling any empathy towards others, neither guilt nor remorse, and claiming no responsibility for her actions. Like others of her type, she is highly intelligent, manipulative, and narcissistic.” Spencer explained the unsub’s pathology. 

“Evans had received higher education. She graduated with a business degree, most likely a subconscious influence from her father. With the business acumen and the social skillset, this unsub can easily blend in with all the other business people and manipulate them.” Hotch explained, walked slowly around the large room. 

“Based on her background, she came from a wealthy family. However, the family wasn’t perfect. Her father constantly cheated on his wife. The mother always forgave him. As a young girl, Evans most likely has experienced emotional and sexual abuse from her father. It was a way for him to control his daughter, and she had resented that for years.” Emily said about the unsub’s childhood. 

“She mostly has experienced misogyny in her professional life. Had little comments and slights against her. Perhaps a less qualified male co-worker took a promotion that she deemed herself to be of a better fit,” Derek explained about the stressor. “Something in her work life triggered her to start killing the men who represented her father.”

“With this profile, we should search for Taylor Evans’ location and any potential victims. We suggest going public with the information as soon as possible… Thank you very much.” Hotch ended the profile with his parting words. Everyone at the precinct was disbursed from the room to get back to their work. The agents huddled together to prep themselves in case something big were to happen. 

“JJ, I would like for you to conduct a press conference,” Hotch said.

“Why is that, sir?” The media liaison asked. 

“I would like to draw her out. Have it known that we are after her.” The media liaison nodded her head in agreement and left the main room to work on getting a press conference together.

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Before entering the press room, JJ took a deep breath and exhaled to calm herself down. Thoughts were rushing in her mind. Don’t let them get to you, JJ. She neatly fixed her hair to seem presentable. Taking her golden heart necklace, the media liaison kissed it for good luck. 

The media liaison walked into the conference room with great confidence and stood behind the mahogany podium. Standing tall, JJ was not willing to lose a fight with the media, especially with a high-profile case. 

“Ok, can I have everyone's attention,” JJ said to gather the media’s attention to her. “Please, if you could just take your seats…”

“There have been a series of murders that appeared in random locations around Brooklyn. There is sufficient evidence that the victims were murdered on Wall Street then transported to their disposal sites.”

“We believe she may have experienced a psychotic break recently, causing the unsub to escalate to murder to regain a sense of control. You should increase your patrols in and around Wall Street… “

“Why would you focus your profile on the finance guys when the unsub has also contacted members of the FBI?” A male reporter interrupted the media liaison.  

JJ stood at the podium in shock. How could he know about that? We kept that under wraps. 

“I- How did you obtain that information?” JJ asked. 

“I overheard one of the cops saying it.” The journalist said casually. The blonde’s right eyebrow lightly twitched in anger. What couldn’t those cops just shut their mouths, JJ thought.

“What you heard from these officers isn’t true,” JJ lied to keep confidential information private. “Now, do you have any questions about the case?” A new wave of hands came up. JJ took a few more questions to answer. After a while, it was time to end the press conference.

“If anyone works in or around Wall Street, and sees anything unusual, please do not hesitate to call the number on your screen. Thank you.” JJ said her final statement, ending the press conference. As she walked down the steps down the small stage, a reporter called out her name.   

“Agent Jareau! I have something that may be of interest for you!” A different male reporter called out. JJ turned to face him, excepting the same male reporter from earlier. Trying to keep her anger inside, she greeted the news reporter with dignity. 

The male reporter handed the media liaison a letter. JJ took a look at it and was surprised at what she saw: the signature of their unsub. 

“How did you get this?” JJ asked the man. 

“It was sent to me yesterday, directly to the New York Herald.” The man said. JJ called for one of the officers by the wall to collect the letter for evidence. 

“We are going to take this in for evidence processing. One of the officers here will take you in for some questioning.” The man nodded as another officer whisked him away for interrogation. 

JJ sighed and went to search for the officer that unknowingly leaked information. She saw him with another cop, talking, against the wall outside of the press conference room. 

“That information was not for the public!” JJ said, angrily at an NYPD officer. 

“Listen, lady. I don’t know how and where he got the information from,” The beat cop explained himself. “He could have been creeping around the crime scenes or the precinct. 

“Keep your mouth shut, pal, as this case is private and under federal jurisdiction.” JJ huffed as Derek grabbed her shoulders and slowly tried to drag her away. The blonde complied with her co-worker, not throwing a fight as this was not her battle to fight in. 

Once Derek loosened his grips, the media liaison dashed out of the conference room to find her own space to calm down. 

JJ speed-walked once she was out of the hallway’s vicinity. She rushed into the nearest bathroom. Breathing heavily, the media liaison slowly walked into one of the stalls and locked the door. Taking a deep breath, JJ prepared herself for the biggest scream she would take in her life. 

“Fuck. These little shits. Those bastards. Assholes. Son of a bitch. Fucking shit. Why can’t they keep their mouths fucking shut! Those cocksucking motherfucking god damned jackasses!” JJ yelled at the top of her lungs. Her chest fell hard as the blonde was taking deep breaths. She felt better after taking out her anger by screaming. Feeling a little tired, JJ sat on the closed toilet and placed her head between her knees to calm herself down. A few minutes went by, and someone knocked on the bathroom door. 

“JJ… Are you okay?” Emily’s voice could be heard on the other side. JJ sighed while getting up. She opened the stall door and tried to make herself more presentable. Unlocking the silver lock, she opened the door slowly to reveal a relieved Emily Prentiss. 

“Ah–,” Emily gently grabbed JJ and brought her in a warm embrace. They stood together in that position for a few minutes before heading back to the conference room, where the others were, preparing themselves to capture the unsub tonight.

Later that evening, the BAU team, along with SWAT, raided a luxury apartment building in Downtown Brooklyn. Upon entering the only penthouse, Derek broke the door with his strength. The group of agents entered the area and in the middle of the living room, was Taylor Evans. Black mascara ran down her cheeks as she held a gun in her left hand and the final tarot card in the other. 

“Just in time for the show, agents.” Evans croaked. Her sad grey eyes filled with tears, her cheeks flushed from her mental breakdown. 

“Taylor… Listen. You’re young. You don’t have to do this. If you come with us, you can get a lighter sentence and live your life.” Emily said to calm down the broken girl. 

More time passed by as Emily and Spencer tried their best to negotiate with the unsub, but the end was already written. Taylor Evans planned to do an end game, one where she put herself out of misery. 

“I’m sorry….” the blonde girl whispered. In a swift motion, Taylor pulled the trigger onto herself and shot herself underneath the jaw. Her body dropped quickly but Derek ran up to the body to catch it. 

“Damn it,” Derek said. “She was young. Broken. Felt like she had to prove herself that she was something.”

“There was nothing we could have done to help, Morgan. She already had planned her end. She was long gone before anyone else could have noticed.” Hotch responded to Derek’s little monologue. 

Right next to her body was the Emperor card. A beautiful deep purple with gold lining depicting an emperor. The gold detailing reflected against the tall mirrors in the room. The card was reversed, like if she purposefully did that to tell the end to her story. 

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