#((for the morning crew! still semi-active today))

[blind0demon]

Center of Attention

Summary: You're one of many RDA pilots working on Pandora but you still managed to catch the eye of the recoms' leader, Miles Quaritch.

Pairing: Na'vi! Miles Quaritch x Gender Neutral! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1,4K

Author's Note: He's hot, he deserves it. 

The quiet room was filled with the sound of Quaritch's footsteps as he walked out of the bathroom, ready to go to sleep. His hair was still a little wet from the shower he took, but he didn't mind it at all. He made sure that all the lights were turned off and laid on the bed with his head resting against his arm. The man stared at the blank ceiling with a smile on his face as he recalled today's meeting with his favorite person, you.

Despite the dangerous mission he was on and all the action he had to endure, a simple talk still felt a lot more interesting to remember than anything else. You were the pilot who used to fly him alongside his recom team to different places on Pandora, wherever needed. You were good at your job but what was even better was your personality and humor. Miles found every opportunity to chat with you while you were flying.

Thanks to you, the thought about the possibility of getting killed on a mission wasn't corrupting his mind. He was just happy to be with you. The recom didn't notice his attraction towards you before Lyle began teasing him about it. It was true that for some reason your hair became shinier, your skin softer and smile more beautiful than ever, but Quaritch didn't think of that too much.

Now, he was and he couldn't stop getting you out of his head. You lived there rent free. After obtaining his own ikran alongside his team, the Na'vi didn't need you to transport him anywhere, which made him feel more independent but also disappointed that he won't be able to see you as often as before. In fact, he didn't see you in a few days now and could feel the frustration growing inside of him more and more.

He didn't realize how much he needed you before. However, this day was his lucky day. He arrived outside of the RDA base waiting for his crew to meet up and noticed you on your own repairing a small malfunction in your Aerospatiale. There were almost no people around this early in the morning so he decided to have a chat with you and catch up. You had a nice time talking about everything and nothing while he watched you fix the engine.

You looked absolutely breathtaking to him. Your skin was glistening in the sun and face slightly red from the activity. The way your muscles tightened as you worked awoke something primal in him as he looked at you in interest. The straw that broke the camel's neck arrived when you bent down in front of him to pick up the screwdriver that you accidentally dropped.

Quaritch's mind immediately painted the view of him fucking you against the door of the gunship, knowing well that you could get caught at any moment. Despite being a strong and confident person, you were still so small and fragile compared to him and it only made him more turned on to think about making you his. Miles broke out of his thoughts when he caught himself breathing rapidly and feeling a familiar hardness under his pants.

He cursed at himself under his breath for having such fantasies instead of putting himself together and just asking you out. However, the recom wasn't sure if you felt the same way about him, which could potentially destroy everything that you had between each other. You were also different species, therefore it added another to the problems on the list although he didn't mind the fact that you were human. In fact, you would fit just perfectly around him so he could blow your mind.

Quaritch sighed tiredly, knowing that he won't be able to fall asleep in this condition, unless he takes care of it or waits it out. So he does, taking his semi hard member in his palm and slowly sliding up and down its length. The man closed his eyes and thought of the person that made him this turned, you. Miles bit his lower lip, holding back a growl, picturing you in front of him.

Your beautiful eyes looking at him with such kindness and your gorgeous smile that always made his heart skip. You were the only one occupying his mind all the time, even the thought of catching Jake Sully didn't corrupt him as often as you did. It was as if you put him under a spell and it worked. Pleasure started to spread to every part of his body, making his ears lean back at the sensation, whispering your name as if hoping that you could be here with him.

Oh, how he'd make you feel as good as him. If only you were his, you would be sitting on his manhood and ride him till oblivion at this moment. There'd be no fear of you not fitting him, Miles would give you the foreplay of your life till you'd be begging for him to enter you. He imagined holding you by the hips and pushing you down his length, hearing you moan at the feeling of his member filling you up to the hilt.

The sensation Quaritch felt during his trance made it so realistic as well. You moved up and down with no effort as his hands held you tightly and guided you at his preferred pace. Your eyes would be clouded in lust and your face engulfed in the desire you experienced because of him. Moans escaped your lips during which your nails dug into his abs, marking him as yours.

The Na'vi pumped his hand faster, imagining your tight wet muscles squeezing him to the point where he'd go feral. It became really hard to hold back the groans trying to leave Quaritch's mouth when he kept his eyes shut. His face was burning and his body felt as if it was going to explode soon. Miles would imagine you also feeling your climax approaching as you'd grow louder and beg him to go faster.

And he would comply, tightly holding your waist and thrusting his hips upwards, meeting yours as well. The tip of his shaft would perfectly hit every sensitive spot in your body, making you go crazy above him as you'd take him so well. Just the thought of hearing your voice moaning his name made him feel guilty for touching himself to your image but he couldn't help himself.

You were in the center of his attention, nothing else mattered at this moment. Miles's ears tilted back at the hot feeling spreading through his muscles as he kept on going, feeling his legs go numb at the blinding pleasure he experienced. He felt this pressure building up for a long time when he wasn't able to see or hear you and he needed to release it.

The Na'vi's hand twisted itself around his throbbing manhood while running up and down his length as his hips instinctively thruster upwards. His breath was rapid and heavy while he barely kept up with the sensation tearing through him. Your voice rang in his ears, begging him to go even faster and he complied, pleasuring himself as quickly as possible until he finally experienced his big finish. Quaritch let out a low moan as ecstasy flooded his system and made him unable to think straight.

His member unleashed its load onto his hand and bedsheets, still pulsating around his fingers. Miles sighed in relief, resting his head against the pillow as his heartbeat slowly turned back to normal. He whispered your name with a smile, realizing what kind of a mess you just made of him. All this chaos just because of you, he couldn't recognize himself. Still, he wasn't fully satisfied on his own, he needed more, he needed you with him. If only you knew how crazy you drove him. Quaritch's definitely gonna ask you out tomorrow if that'd be the last thing he does. 

[icequeenbae]

Shot Through the Heart (m) | BBH

Related works: Snapshot (m) [pt.1], Giving Love a Shot (m) [pt.3]

Pairing: photographer!Baekhyun x idol!Reader ft. soloidol!Kai

Photographer AU, PWP, angst(ish?), smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, rough sex (incl. oral), angry sex(?), dirty talk, creampie

Word Count: ~4.5k

Summary: You and Baekhyun cross paths at work again. Problem is, your steamy photoshoots almost always lead to you having sex. Would the dynamic change if there’s another person in the room?

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s note: Hello my sweethearts!! I apologize for taking way too long to post this... Since last summer I wasn't nearly as active as before, and I wasn't sure why. But now that Baekhyunie is finally back from the military I suddenly feel slightly more energized. Maybe I'll post a bit more often from now on? 🙃 Unless my lovely @baekshoney kills me for making her beta read my crazy stories haha In any case, I hope you used your chance to refresh Snapshot in your memory, because this will be a continuation of the story of our idol!Reader and fuckb- ahem, photographer!Baek~

As always, my asks are open and I do my best to respond to all of your comments (in reblogs as well), so don't be shy to share any thoughts and impressions ❤️

Tags:  @exo-writers-net  @bbh-net  @superm-net

The makeup crew was floating around you, pampering, and pampering, and pampering. You weren’t confident that there was even the slightest chance for your skin to survive this. It wasn’t unusual – photo shoots required just as much preparation as premiere events, the close-ups being rather demanding. Still, the more powdered your face became, the heavier you sighed, imagining the skincare routine you’d need to complete afterwards.

The best you could get from your make-up artists was help with removing the layers of whatever they used so generously on your face. The rest was up to you, and, fortunately, you care enough to go through with all of the gazillion steps of the process. Cleansing your pores, soothing your skin with toners and masks, applying serums and essences, using revitalizing creams… This took you forever, and any time you decided to skip a few steps, you ended up with acne, awfully dry or blotchy skin, or even more horrendous allergic reactions.

Tonight was going to be pretty long with all of the efforts that went into your behind-the-scenes glow-up.

‘Erase that frown, your makeup will get wrinkles, honey.’

Your frown only deepened as you heard his voice.

The women carrying the inquisition tools for your poor face almost squealed as he stepped closer. Baekhyun and his stupid charms. Even the makeup artists (in their late thirties to mid forties) were on the verge of fainting out of earthly existence whenever he walked by. You could swear he gave them a semi-interested onceover and a slight smile as soon as he stepped closer.

Although you really wanted to say something dirty just to take a swing at him, you stayed collected.

‘Is Kai ready?’ You asked with a scowl. ‘I want this over with. It’s been a long day.’

The day in question was indeed long. This photoshoot began in the morning, and you kept changing outfits and settings. Today's concept was ‘honeymoon’, so you and your partner – the biggest male solo act in your company – did your best to portray a young couple having the time of their lives. And this was supposed to be the final setting. The newlyweds’ bedroom.

After the huge sensation that your pool photoshoot became, your management decided that having you do more sexy and borderline scandalous concepts wasn’t a bad idea. Easy to monetize, anyway. So here you were, waiting to get half-undressed and possibly groped by none other than your sunbae.

Kai debuted only a year before you, and was instantly famous. His dancing skill was incredibly flamboyant, so it wasn’t surprising how quick he was to capture the audiences’ hearts. He was also a well-known heartthrob in the business, although most of the stuff in the media was made up to hype him up. This was a perfect opportunity to promote both of your albums, especially riding the wave from your previous sexy shoot.

‘Did I hear you call out for me, my love?’ Your partner for the day walked into the room bearing all of the grace in the world.

The swoons renewed, and you barely managed to prevent your eyes from rolling backwards.

‘Stop calling me that already.’

‘How can I? We should stay in character to convey the newlywed passion accurately.’

‘If you keep talking like the company staff in the meetings, I’m gonna barf.’

‘That doesn’t sound sexy. Not at all.’ Kai scrunched up his nose before winking at you. ‘But, in sickness and in health, right?’

‘Alright, lovebirds. Finish up your makeup and let’s do this. The sunrise will be over soon and I want to catch you in natural lighting.’

‘Mine is done,’ Kai quipped, climbing on the bed next to you.

‘I certainly hope that mine is too.’

‘We’re almost finished, Y/N-ssi. Just making sure your skin doesn’t look oily in the pictures,’ one of the staff members provided.

You gave her a pointed look before someone seized your face and tilted your head backwards to examine it closely.

‘Looks matte enough to me. Let’s clear the room.’ Baekhyun murmured before repeating louder for the rest of the team.

‘How cute,’ Kai chuckled in your ear while the photographer busied himself with the equipment.

Sighing, you avoided his teasing gaze.

Kai was also a friend. And one of the very few people who knew that you had something going on with Baekhyun. Prior to this shoot, you had asked him to be discreet about it, especially since the whole topic of your relationship with the blond was sensitive. You didn’t want him (or the staff!) to get the wrong idea. So, your sunbae’s occasional ‘meaningful’ looks seriously made you tick.

‘Alright, let’s begin.’ Baekhyun finally closed the door and turned around, eyeing you with precision. ‘Stand in front of the bed, so that she could look up at you. A bit to the left.’

He took a couple of shots, mumbling something in affirmation. You glanced in his direction while he was checking something in his camera.

‘Look at him, not me,’ Baekhyun pressed playfully, and Kai snatched it away from him.

‘Right, look at me only, wifey!’

His fingers touched your face to get your attention, and you heard a few clicks.

The three of you were quick to fall into step, and soon enough you’d moved on to posing on the bed. Play fighting, hugging each other, almost kissing – all with strict instructions from your photographer. This was… exhibitionistic in a way.

Only half an hour into the process, Kai was already shirtless. Baekhyun also ditched the usual hoodie, and you glanced at the plain tee he was wearing underneath. It hugged his chest tightly and made you crave touching it. But you weren’t about to act on this impulse.

‘Show more skin. Ride her dress up a bit and put your palm on her hip. Yes. And keep looking at her like this.’

You nodded to Kai as he gave you a chance to refuse and held onto his shoulders while watching him proceed. The pads of his fingers were cool, so it naturally roused goosebumps all over your thigh. Blinking at the reaction of your skin, you looked away, bashful. But in that, you turned to the other man.

Baekhyun stared at Kai’s hand for a second or two longer than necessary, and then got back to finding the best spot to capture it. The click of the shutter brought you back to reality, and you realized your eyes were on him the entire time.

‘Lie down,’ the photographer commanded, voice laced with gruffness. ‘Kai, stay up on your elbow.’

The whole thing was more uncomfortable than sexy, if anyone asked you. Posing or acting that way wasn’t at all intimate. For all of the people present it was simply their job, and you were enormously thankful that there were only the three of you. Having more spectators would’ve made this so much direr.

Nevertheless, the biggest hardship on your account was your and Baekhyun’s eyes accidentally crossing paths. The way he looked at you gave you chills. His eyes were hollow, dimmed by the scenes he was conjuring up in his mind, no doubt. The shameless desire he had for you made your own pulse pick up. Damn him and his effect on you.

The tension forming between you was almost palpable, and you were getting a bit nervous.

Kai asked something in a hushed voice, and you nodded. As soon as you did, a touch to your inner thigh made you jolt.

‘Sorry. I assumed your nod meant it’s okay,’ he eyed you half-curiously and half-apologetically.

You cleared your throat.

‘Uh- yeah. I’m just- ticklish.’

Baekhyun huffed, and you kept yourself from glaring at him. Yes, you lied. You weren’t ticklish there, you were sensitive. As a person, who used every opportunity to shove his face between your thighs, he knew that very well.

‘No need to actually get under her skirt.’ He stressed, looking at Kai.

‘Jealous much?’ The model murmured back mockingly, and Baekhyun frowned.

‘Why would I be?’

‘Ask your boner.’

As soon as the words left Kai’s mouth, both you and Baekhyun looked at his crotch. It was obvious that something was stirring up, even though he wasn’t visibly tenting. Otherwise, the blond wouldn’t have reacted to the provocation so easily.

Gulping, you tore your eyes from his pants to turn to your ‘husband’ for today. He grinned charmingly at you, caressing your cheek.

‘I hope you’re getting this, Baekhyun-ah,’ he nudged, again, messing with him. ‘Wifey here is living her best moments.’

Addressing Baekhyun so very informally while he was two years older than him was a challenge.

‘As if you know what you’re doing,’ the photographer shot back, tilting his head to the side.

You furrowed your eyebrows, not quite grasping where this childish rivalry came from.

‘And you think you’d do better if you were in my place?’

Kai’s hand stroked the curve of your waist before resting on your hip again.

‘I know I’d do better,’ Baekhyun sneered coldly. ‘I do better whenever I am.’

As he said that, your vision went dark for a split second. You literally thought he was crazy. He had no idea that Kai knew about your… whatever this was between you. And being so explicit about it made you question his motives once again.

What was this even? Marking his territory? You’d been around long enough to understand that this wasn’t his ordinary behavior, and you in no way agreed to being his territory.

‘How about I touch you some more, love?’ Kai teased, leaning in provocatively.

‘How about you do not?’ Baekhyun interrupted.

As you look up at the photographer, you notice the tick in his jaw. He seemed properly frustrated at this point. You realized you’d never seen him this annoyed. He looked… hot, even. Very similar to what he looked like when he was on top of you, excruciatingly close to coming.

The thought made you gulp.

‘Why not? I say we make this concept a reality. Someone’s eager anyways,’ Kai smirked, raising a sassy eyebrow.

Baekhyun returned his gaze, chin defiant.

‘I don’t share.’

You couldn’t explain why, but hearing this curt phrase had you biting down on your lip for a second, to contain a moan from the sudden pulse through your core. This was probably nothing, just men being… well, men. But you decided to wait and see where this would lead you.

‘Alright then. Let’s give the lady of hearts the choice! Whom would you like to leave this room, peaches? I call her peaches, because, I mean, you’ve probably seen that gorgeous ass of hers…’

Kai trailed off, almost making you chuckle. He’d never actually called you that before.

But you’d accepted the fuse and lit it.

Taking a couple seconds to exchange gazes with Kai, you then slowly turned to face Baekhyun. And then you motioned towards the door with your eyes.

His lower lip twitched in a way you couldn’t miss.

‘I see. Guess we’ll be carrying on without you,’ the model singsonged.

Baekhyun’s expression hardened. You knew you were in trouble as soon as he carefully put his camera down and ran his fingers through his blond hair.

‘Get out.’

You knew you were in trouble.

‘She just said-’

‘She’ll change her mind in no time,’ Baekhyun ripped the door open. ‘Out.’

Kai fell silent at the authoritative tone the photographer now acquired. He turned to you and you nodded slightly, agreeing to submit yourself to whatever awaited. You watched him get off the bed and walk out of the room reluctantly before the door was shut and locked behind him.

Baekhyun turned around, and you were met with the darkest expression you’d ever seen on his handsome face. You felt your skin prickle with goosebumps, and your tongue instinctively ran over your lips.

Furiously aroused. That he was.

The photographer walked towards you silently before grabbing you by the hair and dragging you off the bed and onto the floor. Before you knew it, his pants were down, and his dick was deep in your throat. Not that you weren’t ready for that.

‘Fucking slut.’ His voice was low and merciless.

Baekhyun went at it, rough and fast, keeping you on your knees while fucking your face. You looked straight at him despite your eyes watering, and there was no doubt that your makeup was instantly ruined. But you didn’t really protest, letting him use your mouth to ease his frustration.

This was new. Exciting.

You whimpered, and he panted as the pleasurable vibration in your throat made his pelvis stutter. So, you did it again. On purpose, this time. Baekhyun grunted, tugging you away.

‘Enjoying yourself too much, I believe,’ he smirked at you, breaths ragged, and slapped your face with his fully hard cock.

Giving him a sharp look for going as far as to destroying the rest of your makeup, you shifted in your spot.

‘No. You don’t get to give me attitude after acting like a whore.’

He wasn’t gentle when he got you up on the bed again, on all fours. Slapped your ass in the process as well.

‘Is this where you wanted his hand to go?’ He traced your inner thigh before slipping under your panties and smearing your arousal around your entrance. ‘Dripping, aren’t you, little slut?’

He slammed two fingers inside and you yelped. You weren’t ready for such an unceremonious intrusion. Still, without giving you a second to recover, he began fingering you. Because he knew that if you didn’t lean forward, that was because it felt really damn good. His long fingers were quick and harsh, and the pace made you start sobbing in seconds.

It was divine.

But Baekhyun got impatient soon enough and flipped you over on your back. You felt his palms on your thighs as he pulled up your dress and removed your littered panties.

This wasn’t something you did often, and maybe you should’ve been offended by his ways of handling you… On the other hand, you felt so naughty that you were ready to beg him to fuck you.

Fortunately, there was no need to do so. He wasted no more than two seconds getting on top of you before beginning to pound you into the mattress. The sex was fast and angry, and you were surprised that it didn’t hurt. Or maybe you simply couldn’t feel the pain, because of how enthralled you were by this man.

The photographer’s blond hair looked messy, and you got a handful just to spite him. Smirking breathlessly, he threw one of your legs over his shoulder to stretch you out, and went even harder. It was clear that your pussy was nothing but a wet slippery mess that Baekhyun tore through like a feral animal. You whined, arching your back to get the best of his thrusts, while the pleasure in your center was building and spreading like a forest fire. The sensation was subtle in the beginning, yet progressed rapidly to intense throbbing.

His fingers rubbed your swollen lips, almost making you drool, and his hips kept up the brutal pace. The blond’s eyes stared deep into yours, and you simply couldn’t hold his gaze.

‘B-Baekhyun, I’m gonna c-’ Your breath hitched as the wave of your pleasure subsided to start building back up right away. ‘Oh-h my god-’

It usually wasn’t this intense. Once your release was there, it was there. This time… It came and went, and you were dying for him to push you over the edge.

‘Want me to leave the room now?’ Baekhyun gritted vindictively, enjoying your helplessness underneath him.

‘Please-’ Your eyes kept rolling backwards with every abrupt press of Baekhyun’s lips to the blotchy skin of your neck until you couldn’t take it anymore, muttering like a mad woman. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming, oh fuck, I’m… Baek- mph-’

His palm was swift to find your mouth and cover it, sealing your moans just in time.

Shaking violently, you didn’t even notice the moment he let your leg slide off his shoulder to press closer to your vulva with each movement. The rubbing of the sensitive skin, the wetness and squelching, the uncontrollable shaking… You hiccupped, enduring all that while he continued fucking into you until he finished as well.

Your eyes fluttered shut as soon as the last spurt of his cum filled your insides. There was no pulling out this time, and it was exactly how you needed it. You’d never had angry wild sex like this, and finishing it any other way would’ve been a disgrace.

He didn’t pull out for a minute, and you just blinked away the water in your eyes. You weren’t really crying; it was a natural reaction to the intensity of the act.

In fact, your mind was so entirely blank and smoothed out that when Baekhyun suddenly looked you in the eye, it startled you.

‘Date me.’ He repeated his long-standing offer, forcefully this time.

As you opened your mouth to refuse again, you ended up immobilized by both his weight and determined gaze.

‘Why not?’ He pressed, guessing the intended answer.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Bullshit. Why not, Y/N?’

He slipped out, and you flinched, sitting up as well. The aftershocks of your pleasure still had you on edge, and you had to clear your throat before announcing what your thoughts on the subject were.

‘I don’t want a boyfriend who can’t keep it in his pants.’

Baekhyun clicked his tongue.

‘Interesting. I haven’t had sex once since our last shoot, what, 3 months ago? And you’re telling me I can’t keep my penis in check?’

You rolled your eyes, unappreciative of his ‘heroic’ abstinence duration. He didn’t let it slide.

‘Hey, you may think it’s nothing. But- I’ve never gone longer than a couple of weeks without it. And I haven’t masturbated this much since I first hit puberty,’ he sighed and tongued his cheek, contemplating his next words. ‘I just can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. And I don’t want anyone else.’

Looking down, you avoided his eyes. His reputation preceded him, and you knew exactly what he was famous for in some circles.

‘Yeah, I did screw around. A lot. But it’s because I chose to. This…’ he motioned between you, ‘is different.’

You scoffed at his words.

‘Spoken like a true fuckboy.’

‘So, you’re gonna hold it against me? What am I guilty of, being young and healthy, being a man? Or never having met anyone I wanted to start something serious with?’

Pursing your lips, you allowed him to continue.

‘I cared about none of those girls, Y/N, and I never told them otherwise. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, only to satisfy my needs. You have no idea how frustrated even a few days of no sex make me. I don’t know, I just have a high sex drive, maybe.’

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed.’ You muttered.

‘I’m serious.’

‘I hear you, Baekhyun,’ you raised your arms, asking him to chill. ‘But I can’t say it doesn’t scare me away. You’re not exactly what they call boyfriend material.’

He exhaled sharply, visibly irritated by your attitude.

‘That’s not fair. I am not going to deny that since the moment I saw you for the first time, all I could think of was getting you naked and underneath me. And maybe for a second, I believed that it was going to solve everything. But it didn’t work,’ he hesitated before clarifying. ‘I never lost my interest in you.’

You scoffed again, this time in offense.

‘So, you just wanted to fuck me to get it out of your system?’

‘Fucking you wasn’t my goal, initially. I- Remember how we met?’

Of course, you remembered. It happened last year at a huge annual gala held by one of the top entertainment broadcasting companies. You ran into each other at the afterparty, conversed, had a good time and genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. At the end of the evening, he insisted on giving you his number…

All in all, it went great, and you even intended to hit him up. Until the next day, when one of your members told you to stay away from him. She said he was trouble and shared that she’d heard plenty of relays of his Casanova adventures on the grapevine. How he liked to mingle with all the pretty young models he conducted photoshoots with, and how managers didn’t let rookies out of their sight whenever they had to work with him. You remembered very well how your high hopes for him had crumbled that day.

‘Yeah, at the gala.’ You answer matter-of-factly. ‘We ran into each other.’

‘The afterparty,’ he nodded. ‘But do not think for a second that we’ve met by accident.’

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Y/N…’ He shifted on the bed next to you. ‘I ‘bumped’ into you on purpose. I liked you. And I liked you even more by the end of that night, which seemed mutual. But you never called.’

Swallowing, you looked away.

‘I- Heard things. About you. And I didn’t want to be another notch in your belt for people to talk about.’

‘Yet the next time we saw each other, after your group photoshoot… I didn’t come to your dressing room to fuck you, you know? I wanted to ask you out. Discreetly.’

You sneered.

‘Right. Your platonic means didn’t last, as far as I recall.’

‘You’re the one who was at the door wearing nothing but a robe! Also, you dragged me inside.’

‘I didn’t want anyone to see you! You know gossip travels fast.’ You argued.

That wasn’t a lie, you had many eyes on you at the time. Even now being caught together like this could’ve been problematic. You pulled him into your dressing room without thinking. But as soon as you were left alone… Something came over you. It was impossible to bring to mind who made the first move then, but just a few moments later you were already kissing.

That photoshoot started your little ‘tradition’ of having sex after each one.

‘I was too infatuated with you to stop. And you kicked me out so fast afterwards,’ he continued ranting. ‘I know it’s my fault that I didn’t- But it’s not fair for you to judge me. I liked you for a long time, and you always kept me at an arm’s length. You only ever allow me to get close when we fuck.’

‘That’s not- Uh- Maybe it is true. And I told you why.’

‘Come on, Y/N,’ he ruffled his blond hair up in frustration. ‘I admit that I’m no church oppa. Still, that doesn’t mean that I can’t be a good boyfriend.’

‘Up until you don’t see me for longer than a couple weeks. And that’s bound to happen sooner or later.’

He let out a frustrated huff, getting off the bed, pulling his pants up and beginning to pace the room.

‘You’re driving me crazy. Why are you pushing me away? Do you prefer it the way it is now?’

Looking away from him, you gave a soft answer.

‘No.’

‘Then what? Do you even know how many half-nude photoshoots I had in the span of these 3 months? I didn’t even care. At all. The girls seemed disappointed, but I didn’t care. Because none of them were you.’

‘Maybe you just want me because I keep saying ‘no’ to you.’ You sounded unsure, because you were.

Things were popping into your head now, stuff you’d heard on the idol radio in the past few weeks. Like your members gossiping about the main dancer of another group, who was salty about getting turned down by a photographer on a recent occasion. They discussed in great detail what she’d said, and you remembered a couple facts.

The girl was angry, because they’d had sex before and she knew he didn’t do the same person twice. Her pride was hurt since she was sure she could be the one he overlooked his principle for, and he did not. Another thing (you remembered it since your maknae became flaming red when this was brought up) was that… she couldn’t get him to go down on her even the first time. She was pissed, because, apparently, the guy didn’t like oral. Which, in your mind, was certainly proof that it was a different photographer. Baekhyun was the oral sex guy. He loved putting his mouth to good use, and he (like any man) welcomed a casual blowie, so that couldn’t have been him. Unless?

‘What’s your stance on oral sex? Giving?’

Baekhyun stopped pacing and looked at you in surprise.

‘What?’

‘Just answer the damn question.’ You huffed impatiently, letting your feet down to get off the bed as well.

The slow trickle of his seed caused you to cross your legs.

‘I love it. I could do it all day with you. Why?’

‘And with others?’ You clarified, withholding your disappointment.

‘I’ve never done it with others.’ The earnest tone of his voice stunned you.

Reading the look of disbelief on your face, he shrugged.

‘I told you. Fucking was to blow off some steam and nothing more. With you… it’s not.’

He came closer and took your face in his palms.

‘I’ve always been serious about you, Y/N. And I need you to give me the benefit of the doubt.’

‘You’re asking for a lot.’ You closed your eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

‘I know. But I promise I’ll do my best to- not fuck this up. It’s new to me. So- don’t get mad at me, just guide me and tell me what you need. I’m a quick study,’ he took a breath, and you realized you needed one as well. ‘If you want me to shower you with flowers or send you sugary ‘good morning’ messages, just say the word. I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend, but I want to be one for you.’

You looked him in the eye, evaluating his sincerity. And he seemed so overwhelmingly genuine that you couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away this time.

‘Okay…’

He blinked.

‘Okay?’

‘Yes. We can… try.’

Baekhyun’s eyes became wide, and he suddenly grabbed you and swirled you around.

‘Sh- no, put me back down!’ You whisper yelled at your… boyfriend?

This was crazy. Your train completely went off the rails.

‘Nicely played!’ The voice behind the door exclaimed.

You both froze, then Baekhyun put you back down, frowning.

That was without a doubt… Kai’s voice.

‘Is he… still here?’ The blond asked out loud.

‘Of course! I couldn’t chill out forever without attracting suspicion. And did you really expect me to not come back to eavesdrop? I’m going back, but Y/N’s manager might be coming up any moment now.’ The voice became more distant by the end of the sentence.

Both of you looked back at the messed up (and cum-stained) bed and the state of your own clothing and makeup.

You swore in unison.

‘Shit!’

Masterlist

A/N: Done with part 2, what about part 3? 🤪 Alright, let's get a breather first. Don't be shy to drop an ask and reblog to give your author here some gratification for the nights of no sleep 😊

[guckies]

Honestly while it’s a topic that morning crew mentioned today…

Lowkey still don’t want the mod vote on the qsmp to go through because I feel like every time they make a decision like this which affects everyone’s “quality of life” on qsmp they never actually tell everyone that a vote is going on. Which just screws over the vote because they’re might actually be something someone really wants on there(that might make them play more) that never gets added because they simply didn’t know or no one told them. It’s also not like the vote is in a place anyone goes, the morning crew checks there occasionally but otherwise no one else does.

I feel the same about the new eggs too a bit, like I know some people have lore keeping them off qsmp but I feel like if the eggs parents knew they had an egg they might play more often. Like Lenay, Mariana, Carre and Rivers; do they even know they have an egg they could take care off? They aren’t completely focused on the rp aspect of qsmp, so I think if they did make it back and started to take care of their egg it wouldn’t be a big deal and would be nice for them. As well I feel like one of the big reasons Tina knows(while only being a semi-active player) is because she watches her friends play and she had a developing romance with Bagi on the island, so she really wanted to start playing again since she was so active on purgatory.

I don’t know I feel like these things the admins could just fix with a quick @/all “there will be ___ on the island, if you have time please check it out” in their discord. Maybe they do this already, maybe they don’t but I just feel like the voting system in particular could be a really good thing where everyone campaigns to try get people to vote for their favourite thing but it just never happens and kind of feels like a waste to do.

[natromanxoff]

19 - The Dynamic Duo V Montreux

Hello folks. I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs and I thought I would give the old hard drive a clean up, so before I dump a load of rubbish I thought I'd better answer these before I throw everything in the recycle bin. Let's start with a lady from New Jersey who goes by the name of Dorothy who gave me a very interesting offer for the next time I'm in New York. If you're reading this Dorothy, could you send Jacky your email address so I can reply to you. I've just opened up a "secret" Hotmail account so I can send replies without pestering the lovely Mrs Smith all the time, and to test it I went to the guestbook and picked a few names at random. Maybe I should reply to the irate drummer, but if I do that he'll just reply to me and the girls in the office will miss out on laughing at him as well. Staying with the skin bashers for a mo, Ron Hansen in Madison is a drummer, and said he liked my jokes and reckons Mr Irate uses three sticks, two in his hands and one up his arse (his words not mine). Would I be correct in saying your a Zep fan Ron? Today's question is, "What do you get if you cross a drummer with a roadie?" The answer is a stupid roadie.

Moving on, last time around I mentioned a drink which we consumed in Brazil, and the charming Sonia and Dina informed me it was called Caipirinha, and a pleasant little tipple it was to. Somewhere in Australia there is a lady called Karen who is listening to the Offspring CD non-stop, so I'm gonna have to try and answer her question as she has such great musical tastes, even though she wants to know the..........(flashing lights, fireworks, drum roll) Hoover Salesman Story. ARGHHHH. Its actually a very short tale, and I think it's quiet boring but it seems to have grown in stature over the years, and as always I'm gonna drag it out and start from the first skiing expedition that I ventured on with RT.

Having checked my trendy little biog mag, I reckon the year is 1980, and the dynamic duo are in Montreux putting the finishing touches to Fun in Space and we have a few days off before a tour starts in Zurich when Rog says, "Let's go skiing." He had skied a few times before and was ok at it, but I had never put a pair of skis on in my life. I said, "Lets go, but you ski and I'll just get pissed." He then went on about what a buzz it is and how I would love it, etc. As we were touring soon our American crew had to fly out, so I called up Jim Devenney and told him to come over a couple of days earlier cause we were gonna ski. Jim is a great skier and was on the first flight available and I picked him up at Geneva airport ready for some fun. That night we hit the town and have too many drinks and Rog goes off to bed semi early, while Jim and myself sat out on the jetty of Duckingham Palace with a ghetto blaster, Derek and Clive tapes, and a vat of wine singing disgusting songs at full blast, which must have echoed over to France. Suddenly we hear a French voice screaming at us and we have no idea what he was saying so we carried on goofing around, and the next thing I hear is a huge splash as Devenney falls in.

Let me assure you that a drunk trying to get a drunk out of Lake Geneva is not an easy task, but we succeed and head back to DP and retire to our rooms. I'd just got into bed when I hear a crash and go to investigate, only to find JD had gone in the wrong room and was trying to get into a baby's cot, and getting him out of there was harder than getting him of the lake.

Next day Roger, Dave Richards, his wife Collette, Jim and myself set off to Zermatt, and on arrival we stock up on skis, passes and other skiing paraphernalia (big words now!) Dinner, drinks and off to bed. Next morning we're up and ready to go, and thinking I'll never ski again after this I refuse to waste money on a ski suit, so I wear jeans. My second wrong move, the first was agreeing to go. The hotel owner wouldn't let us leave the hotel without first drinking a couple of Sambuccas, not my idea of a good breakfast, eggs, bacon, tea, toast and Italian liqueurs, but who are we to refuse. Next I've got to try and walk in those godamn boots, and we eventually arrive at the top of the Matterhorn.

The OK skiers, RT and Dave set off on their own, Collette begins a very slow trip down while JD tells me he'll stay and teach me. On go the skis, and down I go, flat on my arse. Up I get and I'm off, for all of about 2ft before I'm down again. This is not any fun. After a couple more tumbles my great mate Jim said, "If you're gonna f*** around I'm going." And thats the last I saw of him all day. Thanks pal. I'm standing there watching people ski and think, "It can't be that hard. If you stand like this, lean like that, you can ski." So I stand and lean in the correct positions and I'm away, screeching down a mountain with only one very small problem, I have no idea how to turn or stop, so as I'm flying past Collette, and she reckons I looked very worried, I yelled for some advice and all she said was, "DIVE." Sound advice, so thats what I do, and by now I'm getting wet. I wait for her and then we set off together, the blind leading the blind, with me diving at the slightest bit of speed or bend in the piste. A million years later we eventually reach the bottom of this awful slope and it's finally over. Wrong. Theres a T-bar to get on so we wait in line till it's our turn. You're supposed to put the bar just under your bum and it drags you up, but I'm 6ft and Collettes about 5ft 5in, so the bar was either in the middle of her back or around my knees, and no one told me not to sit on the f***ing thing and we bounced around for a while until we fell off. I'm now getting really pissed off with all this, "Get me a helicopter," I demanded from Collete. She told me they don't just send them, you have to be hurt. I replied with, "I'll break my f***ing arm but I've gotta get off this mountain." Realising I'm not getting a copter I light a ciggie and ponder.

We agree to split up and go with someone our own height, so I ended up with a great German guy who was really helpful. Once on the T-bar I can see that it goes way up and I would have to ski back down to base camp, and in case you've forgotten, I can't ski, so I said that I was gonna bail out, and jumped off. I then head of in a straight line to the cable car, skis on the shoulder and wading through 3ft of snow in a pair of very heavy and very cold jeans. What seemed like hours of wading I make civilisation and head to the bar for a triple strength coffee and a triple scotch while everyone gawked at me cause I looked like I had a shower fully clothed. Yeah, I wanna do this again.

Dinner that night was great fun for the others cause they got to take the piss out of me. Their day will come. The rest of the nights activities shall remain sealed away, but a good time was had by one and all. The tour went smoothly and I try and put Zermatt behind me, except Collette, still to this day, takes great delight in telling everyone about it, and everytime she says it she makes me look more and more pathetic.

The next winter appears and I'm at home and the phone rings, "CT, wanna go skiing?" To which my reply was nothing like, "Oh I'd love to you fabulous little drummer boy." I can't believe he talked me into it again, but this time we were gonna do things correctly and go to Aviemore in Scotland and take lessons, this was the saving factor in his plan. So once again we pile into the Range Rover and aim north. We split the driving (for a change) and had a good journey up through the snow covered mountains till we get to the resort. A usual night was on the cards, dinner, drinks and bed, then up bright and early for some lessons and a good day on the slopes. This time we've both got the correct outfits so we head off to where our little group of idiot skiers are. We're all standing in a line, with Rog and me at the end, and each person gets to snow-plough a few feet. These clowns have less idea than my first try, and it's also incredibly cold and we've now got icicles hanging off our hair. It's our turn and we both look like olympic champions, but the only thing wrong with getting it right the first time is that the instructor then turns his attentions back to the start of the line. Here I am once again standing on the top of a mountain, freezing cold with two 'things' stuck on the end of a pair of stupid boots, and I inform His Royal Highness that the next trip away involves sand and sun, no excuses, end of argument. RT agreed that this wasn't much fun and thought my idea worth considering.

We finally heard the two magic words, "Lunch Break." We're gone in search of some good HOT food and a nice beaujolais, and we found both. We also found that the hotel bar had an amazing selection of whisky, and we had to try as many as possible. We're now semi pissed and decide that as we're warm we might as well go back to this lesson even though we are very late, and the instructor looked at us and said, "Where have you two been?" Rog came back with "Trying lots of your wonderful scotch's." He was fine with that answer and we carried on trying to learn something, and would you believe by the end of the day I could actually turn and stop.

Back to the hotel for a nap before dinner. Over a very nice meal and a couple of little drinkettes we agree that it's far to cold here and we'll clear off the next day, so into the bar we go with our earlier mission of trying all the scotch's. We were sitting at a table chatting away and cracking jokes with each other and end up talking to the couple on the next table, swapping skiing stories, needless to say mine were very short, and having a bit of a laugh, when the woman said, "What do you two do for a living?" God knows why, but I said; "We're Hoover salesmen." At first they didn't believe us but we both started going on about the difference between domestic and industrial cleaners, uprights, backpack types, ones you pull along the floor. We went on about the different wattage, suction power, the amount of pressure on Axminsters and Wilton carpets, even a couple of car expressions like overhead this and thats. What the hell do we know about vacuum cleaners? But boy are we good at this. After about 30 mins of utter bullshit the subject finally changed and they wished us all the best with our door to door salesmanship and off they went to bed. We then had to reassure each other what we actually did for a living, had some more drinks and tried to work out how we knew so much about cleaners as both of us have spent most of our lives trying to stay well away from them. We spent the drive back to London having a good laugh about the one day we spent in a Scottish ski resort.

Well that's it folks, the story of a small company, R & C Taylor,..... Hoover Salesmen. I did learn to ski quite well, and whilst in Gstadd doing the Shove it album Spike flew out cause he fancied learning to ski, and the fool asked me to teach him. I wasn't much help because everytime he fell over I burst out laughing cause I kept seeing myself in Zermatt, and Spike looked just as worried and stupid as I did.

Before I go I noticed that Jacky had to get her boiler fixed and said for me not to make a comment, but little things like that spark me off and I remembered that when we were recording in the Townhouse Studios I had a little, no a big affair with the studio chef. Every three months Virgin would do a magazine for all their staff, written by all the heads of various departments, airlines, studios, video, shops, films, etc. and they would say what was going on with their particular section. Alan Douglas, who was chief engineer of all Virgin studios wrote who was recording where, and he wrote, "Queen are in studio 4, and Crystal, their main man is stoking the kitchen boiler." I thought that was hilarious, but Jane went ballistic. That's it for now.

Loadsa luv Crystal (Carpet cleaner to the stars)

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 11: Coffee

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

A/N: This story will now update on Wednesdays from here on in! Hope that you're all doing well. It's wednesday, you made it halfway! You got this!

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You didn’t sleep much that night. You were afraid to sleep. Between the vision on the roof and your night with Liu Kang? Sleep just wasn’t part of the equation. You hated that you wanted to be held through the night, but you felt too guilty to imagine Kung Lao doing it. You tossed wildly between feeling horribly guilty that you’d slept with Liu Kang like a human wrecking ball and angry that he’d lied to you all those years ago. You would have given anything to get your brain to shut up for the night.

The next morning, you tagged along with the other champions to meet with Johnny Cage. Liu had told you that you could stay behind if you needed rest, but you wanted to be anywhere but alone with your thoughts. Besides, you were curious about Johnny. Raiden had sent all of you to talk to him. Either he was impressive, or Raiden had ulterior motives. You were guessing the latter.

From what you’d heard, Johnny was as stubborn as they came but you hoped that deep down, he had a somewhat decent moral compass. It was difficult to tell just from watching a movie and meeting him would help. You were usually a good judge of character.

You were to meet with him at a coffee shop in Hollywood and he was impossible to miss. White blazer, bright blue half-buttoned shirt beneath it, gold chain around his neck, and the top letters of a tattoo of his own name exposed on his chest.

“When I agreed to meet with you, I figured it’d be just you and me not your whole crew of misfits.” Johnny gestured behind Sonya who had her arms folded so tight under her chest, you could see her veins bulging. She looked like she wanted to immediately break his nose. He must have made quite the impression on her the day before. Johnny made a big deal out of buying coffee even though most of you declined. You ended up getting a tea since Johnny seemed a little bummed that no one was taking him up on his ‘generosity’.

“Can you believe this guy?” Sonya whispered to you. You sipped your tea and shrugged. They had gotten to talking about the dragon mark. Cole had shown his off since it was the easiest to get to. “I’ve never seen anyone love the sound of their own voice this much.”

“I think he’s a little funny.” You shrugged. You’d decided he was harmless. Yes, he had a huge ego and cocky attitude, but he was also… well, harmless. He played it tough and made a lot of jokes, but you had met plenty of terrible men in your life and Johnny didn’t seem like one of them. Sonya huffed next to you.

“So, you’re telling me that you all have the same mark as me?” Johnny led them outside the café and took a seat, kicking his feet onto one of the tables. He held his latte close and looked at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Yes. The mark means that you have been chosen.” Liu’s English was adorable. He had such a careful way of speaking and his accent made it even sweeter. You had to make a conscious effort not to smile. Liu explained Mortal Kombat, and it was nice to hear him sounding like himself for once. Maybe your night had done some good even if it had felt like a mess.

“Hold up, hold up. You all have the mark? I was just joking before.” Johnny kicked his feet off the table and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Yes. We are the chosen warriors.”

“…that’s messed up.” Johnny sipped his coffee and set it down on the table. Then he pointed to you. “How’s the tea? Good?”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“Focus.” Sonya’s every word to Johnny was accompanied with a cringe or a sigh. You, again, had to actively try not to smile. He waved off your gratitude with a motion that said it was no big deal but looked pretty pleased with himself.

“Is this a joke? Are you guys pranking me? It’s… pretty creepy that you all have my mark.”

“It’s not your mark and it is not a joke, I assure you. Like we said, it means that you are chosen to fight.” You bowed your head politely.

“Wait, I think I’ve got it.”

You stepped behind the others to allow them to handle it. It was too hard for you not to laugh. Jax and Sonya exchanged annoyed glances in front of you. No laughing, you reminded yourself.

“Have you?” Cole seemed skeptical.

“This must be an elaborate pitch for a movie. Am I right?” Johnny’s grin was infectious. You could see how he had wound up semi-famous. Arrogant, good looking, funny. He was a little annoying, but you understood the appeal. The movie you’d watched the night before had been terrible but also fun to watch. Sometimes that was all a movie needed to be. Cole was trying not to laugh and had taken a step back so it wouldn’t be so obvious. Sonya and Liu continued to try and get the conversation back on the rails, but Johnny was excellent at derailing it.

Jax’s arms were literally made of metal and Johnny was still convinced that it was some Hollywood practical effects nonsense.

“What do you make of him?” Jax asked you quietly. He’d taken a step back with you, eyes still narrowed as he watched the conversation unfold.

“I think… that he’s harmless and we should just maybe… corner him in an alley, knock him unconscious, and drag him back to China.” You shrugged. If you couldn’t convince him with words, then you could show him the truth. Jax laughed and then his smile faded as he realized you weren’t joking.

“…are we allowed to do that?”

“I mean, legally no but… who’s going to stop us?”

Jax laughed again but you were serious. You could knock him out and bring him back to China. He seemed like a good guy with good intentions, but he wanted proof and you weren’t sure that he’d believe anything you did without making a wild excuse for it. Some people were so stuck in their head about what they thought reality was that they refused to believe the truth when it stared them in the face. Lord Raiden was the ultimate proof. Then again, Johnny Cage would probably be missed if you took off with him without a word. And you supposed that Jax and Sonya were military and might object to you breaking the law. Maybe you could talk to Liu and Cole about it later and figure something out.

Sonya was easily exasperated which was funny to watch. She’d dealt with Kano with far more grace. Something about Johnny seemed to get under her skin. You were just happy that it wasn’t you for once who was obviously frustrated. All things considered, today you were doing fine. “No offense, but I only agreed to this because I thought I could buy you a coffee and charm you into having dinner with me.” Johnny clearly had a thing for blonds. You continued to try not to laugh.

“We can prove it.” Cole interrupted. “Prove that it’s all true.” He was playing mediator on Sonya’s behalf. It was kind of sweet. You also kind of wanted to see Sonya break Johnny’s nose. That would also be fun. “A fight.”

“With you?” Johnny looked him over skeptically and Cole’s affronted expression was delightful.

“No. With him.” Cole nodded toward Liu who bowed his head.

“…really?” Johnny looked skeptical but then got to his feet. “I’m not sure what kind of movie you’re trying to pitch to me, but a challenge is way more up my alley than shoving a script in my face.” You had turn away to keep from laughing, not at Johnny, but at how hard Jax had rolled his eyes. “There’s a gym down the road and I’m sure they’ll let us fight.”

“Privately.” Cole added before Liu could agree to the terms. It wouldn’t exactly be good for Liu to set the world on fire in a public place.

“Weird request, but okay.” Johnny led them down the block and walked backwards, turning to face them as he adjusted his jacket with a grin. “But if I win then you leave me alone about all this and blondie lets me take her to dinner.”

“Not part of the deal. If we win, you listen to us and come with us to China.” Sonya went to continue on what you were certain to be a hilarious tangent, but you elbowed her and urged her to agree. “Ugh, fine. Deal.”

“I’ve gotta warn you little man, I am a force to be reckoned with. You’re about to step into the cage.”

“If Liu loses, I’m skipping town.” Sonya muttered to you.

“Liu won’t lose. Trust me.”

Sonya continued to grumble. You were confident in Liu’s skill. You had the utmost faith in him. Johnny led them along the longest and shortest walk to a gym in your life. He could talk. Again, he was harmless, but a little annoying.

Johnny brought you to the most pretentious gym you had ever seen. It was huge. He’d been able to talk his way into getting you access to an indoor tennis court so you could have some privacy. You pulled Liu aside and reminded him not to set the whole place on fire which he seemed to think was funny. You weren’t sure you could explain that away so easily. You’d tried so if the worst happened then it wasn’t you fault.

There were backless benches on the sidelines of the court, so you took a seat in the center to watch Liu and Johnny fight. You weren’t sure why all the champions had to be here for this. It seemed excessive. Maybe you would reach out to Raiden and explain that your talents were being wasted. It would be better to just show Johnny the truth than try to talk it to him because that boy could talk his way out of anything, it seemed.

Johnny was a talented fighter, but he also showboated a lot. You watched as Liu easily stepped out of the way of Johnny’s every strike. Johnny droned on and on while they fought. You wondered how long it would take before Liu put him in his place. It was almost embarrassing to watch the fight with Johnny not taking anything seriously.

You tuned out the noise of the fight and the others trying to convince Johnny from the sidelines. Instead, you chose to admire Liu doing one of the things that he did best. It was easy to forget how impressive he was when you spent most of your time arguing and being neck deep in your grief and drama. These were some of the things that had attracted you to him in the first place.

Maybe you should tell him how highly you thought of him. It had been a long time since you’d had anything nice to say to each other. Cole came to sit next to you, and you paid him no mind at first.

“This is silly.”

“Very.” You tore your eyes away from the fight for a second. Hm, interesting. Sonya had disappeared at some point. You couldn’t blame her. Johnny was making her uncomfortable. It was a shame though. You had been looking forward to seeing Sonya snap and put Johnny in his place. “How’s the family today?” You hated small talk, but it seemed appropriate.

“Good. Doing some more sightseeing. They liked you, by the way. I’m glad you got to spend time with them.”

“It was nice.” You wanted to say that it had been good to be out of your head, but you weren’t very close to Cole and were still cautious around him. You had a feeling that he understood what you meant. “So, what do you make of this guy?”

“I’m starting to feel like this is a waste of time. Every champion of Earthrealm is here catering to his ego rather than doing… honestly, anything other than this seems more important.”

“I agree. I’m not sure why Raiden sent all of us. You three could have handled it. Raiden has his reasons. He always does. He’s funny like that.” You took to watching the fight again. Johnny had finally started to take it seriously. Liu should have just set his fists on fire and ended it, but he seemed to be enjoying it. Silence followed momentarily. Cole nudged you with his shoulder, and you wobbled purposely as if it had been more than a nudge.

“Are you and Liu…?” He nodded toward Liu knowingly and you snapped your gaze away from the fight.

“No,” you said probably far too haughtily. This was feeling inappropriately personal again. Then again, you had just been kind of ogling Liu Kang. You thought you’d been discreet.

“Sorry to assume.” Cole laughed and leaned back on the bench. “Are you sure though?”

“I feel like if anyone’s sure then it’s me.”

“It’s just… I couldn’t sleep last night so I came down to the lobby to ask for more pillows. It was around closing time at the bar. I’d been thinking about getting a drink to put me to sleep and…” Ah, damn. “I spotted you and Liu in the bar. Tried to wave but you were pretty focused on each other.”

“Yeah.” There was a chance he hadn’t seen too much, and you weren’t going to admit to anything without needing to. “We’ve been arguing so we were trying to bury the hatchet and grieve.”

“That would do it.” Cole was bad at trying to hide his amusement. It was kind of charming. “It didn’t look like arguing. Or grieving.” Oh, good. Of course he’d seen them. Why wouldn’t he have? You sighed heavily. “Is there something we should know?”

“It’s personal. It doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else.”

“If we end up in trouble then it might not be so personal anymore. You’d be surprised what people do when things are complicated like that in a panicked situation.”

“No offense, Cole, but Liu and I are good at panicked situation. Also, it’s none of your business.” You were embarrassed and it was showing, and you hated it. Cole laughed. Sometimes you were just as bad as Liu was at hiding your frustration.

“I’m not judging you, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing, Cole.” God, it was so not nothing, but you didn’t want to talk about it with Liu nonetheless with Cole or anyone else for that matter. It was awkward.

“I’m choosing not to believe you.”

“Fine. But it’s nothing.”

“What’s nothing?” Jax sat on the other side of Cole. Cole pointed to you, and you spoke with wide eyes.

“It’s really nothing. Where did Sonya go? I didn’t see her leave.” You couldn’t change the subject fast enough and Cole made no attempt to hide his laughter.

“Oh, she’s avoiding this creep but she’s still around.” Jax gestured to Johnny Cage who was dusting himself off after being knocked to the floor by Liu.

“Creep is a harsh word.” You chuckled then considered it. “I suppose he is hitting on her a lot, but… I think he’s kind of funny.” Cole and Jax didn’t seem to agree. “He’s harmless. Like… a poodle.” Cole stifled a laugh. “Has the ability to be tough but look at him.”

“He’s an entitled ass.”

“You’re right, Jax. He is.” Your intentions were sometimes lost in English. “I didn’t mean to suggest he wasn’t.” Cole and Jax continued the conversation, but you turned back to the fight. Just in time too, it seemed. You smacked Cole’s arm and diverted his attention back to the fight.

Liu took a step back and the fiery energy swelled around him. He clasped his hands together then drew them apart with controlled strength. He was finally going to do more than give Johnny a run for his money. Fire burst between his palms and he stretched it before him before turning and tossing the fireballs. Johnny rolled out of the way with a girlish shriek.

“Whoa! Whoa, hey!” Johnny crouched to look at the scorch marks that the fire had left behind on the court. “Was that real? That was real fire! How’d you do that?” With some excitement, Johnny approached Liu who summoned the fire again in his palms and then stepped back in a threatening stance that made Johnny stop short. “What kind of special effects thing is that? Special gloves? Looks like your real hands… what movie were you guys pitching again?”

“We are not pitching a film.” Liu wasn’t even short of breath. He hadn’t even broken a sweat and he allowed the fire to blaze in his palms. “Those of us with the marking are gifted arcana to help us fight to protect our home. This is mine.”

“Oh, come on, just tell me how you’re doing it without burning your hands.” Johnny smirked. Then he yelped as Liu threatened to throw the fire at him again. “I really won’t tell anyone! I’ll sign an NDA and everything. Just tell me how you do it.”

“This is absurd.” You shook out your hands and then cracked your knuckles. Enough was enough. You were going to help convince Johnny Cage. Cole perked up.

“I was hoping you would.”

You rubbed your hands together and then with a swift gesture of your wrist, you drew Johnny Cage so that he was standing before Liu who took a step back in surprise and threw you a glance. You were shocked by the effort it took. Keeping these drawings up was definitely one of your more complex skills but it didn’t usually make you feel the way it was making you feel now. You hadn’t been this exhausted by your arcana since you’d first learned how to use it. It was probably the lack of sleep. You were grateful that it hadn’t slowed you down, but you’d lost your posture. Cole offered you an arm and you took it.

Liu stepped back to allow your drawing to take his place, releasing his fire without so much as a puff of smoke. His hands and forearms were covered in soot. You mimicked the stance that you’d seen Johnny use in that terrible movie from the night before. The actor was taken so off guard that he was quiet and focused on the copy of him that you willed toward him.

He ducked and dodged and with surprising speed and accuracy, he knocked the ink back and it fell to pieces. You shuddered and hunched forward but Cole helped keep you upright. Jax sat on the other side of you to do the same. This was embarrassing. You could usually keep up a drawing while you fought. Today you could barely sit upright. You redrew the ink copy behind him, and it knocked him swiftly to the ground. You had to use moves you knew better than Johnny. A mixture of Kung Lao and you.

Johnny blocked and stepped back nervously and was trying to reason with the ink copy, but your ears were ringing, so you didn’t hear what he was saying. Judging by the joy on Cole’s face, it had to have been funny. You knocked him to the ground with a sweeping kick and when he rolled onto his back, you manipulated the ink into Sonya and allowed it to pin him to the ground and press a shadowy blade to his throat. Johnny threw up his hands on either side of him in surrender.

“Okay! Okay. Just…” He drifted off, at a loss for words. You shook off Cole and Jax then stood but both men stood with you. You had to have been pale or look unsteady, but you were okay. “What the fuck?” Johnny poked at the ink form of Sonya’s shoulder, and it stained his hand.

“I assure you that no special or practical effects could mimic my arcana in the moment.” You stepped closer and bowed your head politely with a smile. “Now, will you listen to us Mr. Cage? Or should I kick your ass with a copy of you again?”

“What is it?” Johnny tried to wipe the ink off with his other hand.

“The lady’s right. Are you ready to listen? Or are we going to have to pound you to the ground and drag you kicking and screaming?” Jax threatened. Cole stood next to you, hand behind you just in case you fell. You threw him a look and he shrugged. Johnny was looking like you’d stolen his cookies and then eaten them right in front of him.

“Or we can abandon you and wait for someone to kill you and take the mark.” Liu stood next to you.

“Wait, what? Take my mark?” Johnny lifted his shirt as if to search for his mark and then sighed with relief. You released the drawing and were grateful that Cole held you upright again. Jax offered Johnny a hand and began to explain, at length, how he’d gotten his mark. Johnny was looking far more apprehensive and doe-eyed now that he’d realized this could be real and not just a movie pitch.

“You good?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You smiled graciously at Cole then gestured to the benches. You patted his shoulder and then took a seat back on the bench. You’d done your part. Liu Kang took the seat next to you when it appeared he was no longer needed.

“Someone can just take it? Just like that?” Johnny was back on his feet and sounding horrified. You tuned him out while Jax continued to work.

“You’re gray again.” Liu didn’t usually speak to you in English. It was charming.

“Am I? It doesn’t usually drain me like that. I’m tired is all. That’s probably it.”

“I’m worried, Y/N. You should��”

“If you’re going to say that I need to take it easy then I’m going to smack you right on the mouth, Liu. I know my limits.”

Cole chuckled from ahead of you and then cleared his throat and muttered an apology. Liu turned his gaze from yours, but you could see the slightest smile on his lips. Charming again. Dammit.

“Fine!” Johnny Cage adjusted his jacket, shouting loud enough to get your attention. “I’m… I have to go. This has been very interesting but… I’ve got meetings and people to see and…”

“Don’t you make excuses, you little shit.” Jax threatened.

“No, really. I’m already way past my time with you guys. This was supposed to be coffee with a pretty lady. I have a meeting with my agent. I told Sonya that I was squeezing her in, and I meant it.”

“No way, you lost. We had a deal.” Cole argued.

“This is a lot to absorb. Give me a day to think about it!”

“Why should we trust you?”

“Give him a day.” Liu approached them with his hands folded together neatly behind his back. You couldn’t help but smile. He was much more himself today than he’d been in a long time. You could have cried. “Like he said. This is a great deal to understand. But I won. You will meet with us again tomorrow when you have had your day.”

“Technically? She won.” Johnny gestured to you and you offered a friendly wave.

“I did. So, please, do what Liu asks or I will haunt you with replicas of yourself.” You threatened with a smile. Cole was trying not to laugh again. Johnny approached you with his shoulders slumped and sighed. You offered him your phone. “Put in your number. You can tell us where to meet you tomorrow when you’re ready. If you put in a fake number, you will be sorry.”

“I bought you tea.” He pouted. You laughed. He really was harmless. Johnny beamed as if happy to have made you laugh. He fiddled with your phone and handed it back to you. You sent a message to the number, and he responded from his phone seconds later. “I’ll text you where to meet me tomorrow.”

“If you’re dicking us around, I swear…” Jax threatened.

“I have faith that he’s going to do as he said he would.” You decided to offer him patience. Besides, if he did blow them off then you were going with Plan B which was kidnapping.

“I will. Thank you. I’ve… got to run.” Johnny was talking on his phone before he’d even left the room. He was a movie star, after all.

“I guess we go then?” Cole looked like he had much more to say about what had happened but also like he was trying not to burst into laughter. You thought the situation was comical too.

“Where’s Sonya? I don’t want to abandon her here.” You stood and searched the room.

“Outside. I told her what’s up. She’ll meet us out there.” Jax patted you on the shoulder. “Give me that motherfucker’s number before we leave. Just in case.”

“Happy to.” You offered Jax your phone. You made your way out of the gym, and you watched the others walk outside. You stopped in the hall to catch your breath. Damn. That had left you winded. Why? You needed a nap, at the very least. Once outside you met up with Sonya then walked down the block out of sight of the gym.

“Why are we catering to this guy?” Sonya snapped in a haughty whisper once you’d filled her in on what had happened.

“I still think we should just knock him out and drag him to China. He needs proof and he’ll get it there whether he likes it or not.” You shrugged, stepping a bit away from the others so you could lean against the brick wall of the storefront behind you.

“That’s kidnapping.” Sonya dismissed your idea.

“…so was what you did to Kano.” Cole argued.

“This is different. He’s a celebrity. Kano was a murderer and a criminal.” Jax defended Sonya. Their friendship was adorable. They always backed each other up.

“I’m not worried about committing a crime.” You shrugged. Cole laughed again but then cleared his throat when no one else did.

“Sorry. She’s funny.”

“I have a feeling he’s going to come with us. He’s just stuck up his own ass.”

“And this really is a lot to comprehend.” Liu was trying to diffuse the situation rather than stoke the fire which was nice. “He’s frustrating, but we’ve dealt with much worse than him. Give him his day. If he doesn’t pull through, then we’ll figure it out from there. No crimes necessary.” He looked to you as if to warn you.

“You’re no fun.”

“I guess you’re right. Give him his day. I hate it but what else can we do?” Sonya looked to you disapprovingly and then smiled. “Besides kidnapping.”

“That’s still my backup plan.” You folded your arms under your chest. “This has given me a headache. Are we done?”

“Just about, I guess.” Jax adjusted his footing uncomfortably. Liu came to lean next to you against the wall. The others were making plans on where to meet up if Johnny contacted you. They were also talking about dinner which you were not thinking about yet.

“You’re still gray.” Liu was back to Chinese. He probably didn’t want to be overheard.

“I’m tired, that’s all. I promise.” You made a sound of disgust as he picked up your wrist to check your pulse. Cole was giving you a look, a look as if to throw your words of it being ‘nothing’ with Liu back in your face. You stuck your tongue out at him and he laughed. Then you swatted Liu’s hand away. “I’m fine. Stop.”

“Alright. That’s it then. Y/N, if you hear from him let me know. I put my number in your phone.” Jax pointed at you.

“Happy to.” You nodded down the street. “What do we do until then?”

“No matter what happens we meet up at nine in the lobby. If he hasn’t contacted us, we figure it out from there. I’ve got a few ideas.” Jax smirked.

“I guess for now we can just keep enjoying Hollywood.” Cole chuckled. It sounded like they wanted to go sightseeing again and you would pass. They could do whatever they wanted but you were going to get some rest.

Next Chapter >>

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: ii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 1   ||   chapter 3   ||   chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You and Hawks’s second meeting.

warnings: mutual pining, shy reader-ish, ooc hawks, the fun stuff, fluff ; ) 

|||||||||||||

You didn’t hear anything from Hawks for the next few days. 

It was a fleeting disappointment, but you took his lack of contact as truth and reality. Some big shot, pro-hero wasn’t going to waste time texting a no-name, nobody barista, no matter how mutually flirty of an interaction was shared. 

Prior to actually meeting Hawks, you had seen the tabloids that his name spilled over. Shady stories of midnight rendezvous with models and celebrities, sultry pictures of his own on magazines at grocery store checkouts were a lot of your knowledge of him. He was a very eligible and active bachelor, everyone knew it. 

You reminded yourself that you didn’t mean shit to him, and moved on.

Until about a week from your first meeting, late into the evening, your phone buzzed.

You thought it was one of the team from the teashop, asking another question about a new blend you had made. 

Your eyes widened at the text that you did see:

 [unknown number]: hey angel ;) do you work tomorrow? it’s supposed to be a cold one and i’d love to try another one of your drinks

 You stared at your phone screen for a moment, mouth going dry before typing out a reply. 

 [you]: is this hawks?

 The next reply came only seconds later.

 [unknown number]: the one and only ;))))

  He... actually texted me?

Holy shit.

Another message came in. 

 [unknown number]: don’t tell me you go handing out your number to folks at work all the time :^( you’re gonna hurt my :^((( feelings :^((((

 You deadpanned at Hawks’s texts. 

You couldn’t believe the number two, pro hero texted like a normal twenty-some year old.

It was endearing, if not at the very least comforting.

 [you]: nah, just you tailfeathers 😉

[you]: i work tomorrow morning, opening shift. 6 am. think you can handle it???

 You giggled at your own texts, unable to hold back when you saw Hawks continuing to type. You quickly typed in a contact name.

 [tailfeathers]: E

[tailfeathers]: Z

[tailfeathers]: i’ll be there bright and early ;)

 Part of you, the rational, realistic part, doubted that. Sure, Hawks had texted you, but he wouldn’t actually show, right? He was a busy, busy man. He’d probably get sidetracked.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

 You tried to remain practical.

But, you also liked pushing your luck.

 [you]: see u then!!

[you]: btw your contact name is ‘tailfeathers’ 

[you]: ;)

 [tailfeathers]: what if i told you yours is ‘barista angel’

 [you]: i’d ask if you saw my name on that conveniently small piece of paper i gave you

 [tailfeathers]: i would say yes

[tailfeathers]: but idk angel seems like a more proper title for u 

You felt your still and heat rush to your face. 

He can’t be flirting with you over text. What the FUCK.

 [tailfeathers]: only angels can make coffee as well as u 😇

 “What a bastard,” You shook your head, sighing. Part of you was glad he made it more clear your identity was tied to coffee and not affections. 

 [you]: u flatter me

 [tailfeathers]: i only speak the truth ;)

 You bit your lip as you typed out the next reply, well aware that the evening sky had darkened and you needed an adequate amount of sleep to actually make it to that morning shift. 

 [you]: i’m about to knock out so i can actually be alive for my shift, but i’ll see you tomorrow bird boy

 Hawks’s replied quickly as seemed to be a trend with him. 

 [tailfeathers]: bird boy!!!!! 

[tailfeathers]: i’m moving up in the world

[tailfeathers]: see u then angel 

 As you got ready for bed, going about your mundane routine and preparing the coming day, you had no idea that Keigo was across the city, cradling his phone to his chest with a wobbling smile on his face, a foreign sensation filling his chest. 

He was very excited to see you again, even if it took a few days to get that far.

 |||||||||||||||||||

 The next day was indeed, terribly cold. Despite bundling up in a thick, woolen coat and a knit scarf, you nearly froze on the way to work. Despite the chill, the rest of the morning crew made it in just a few minutes after you.

“I’ll be in back until there’s a rush, alright?” You called to the three openers, all silly college students from the local university. They were all sort of dense, but they were loveable.

“Okay!” One smiled as they flitted to the front counter and seating area.

The back of the teashop was a smaller commercial kitchen, all steel tables and cooking implements. Lots of tools to actually do your job. Though you were the maker of the tea blends for the shop, a lot of your work consisted of packaging and fulfilling orders as well as design work for the teashop’s online presence. Truthfully, you were more of a jack-of-all-trades type of worker, but nearly all of it confined you to the safety of the back kitchen. The lack of stimuli made it easier to work effectively, quirk activated or otherwise.

You tied your apron tight around your waist, adjusting a few of your buttons and smoothing yourself down. The back remained frigid in the mornings, and you could only be glad you were layered up for the day. You pulled out your company-issued tablet and began tapping away with the stylus as the shop prepped to open.

You were too absorbed in your work to hear the bell at the entrance, just minutes after unlocking the door. 

 Keigo? Elated. His last week of hero work had been all long hours and late nights. His wings had grown sparse with overuse, barely carrying him properly through the skies. When he saw that his office day at his agency was due to be particularly cold, he knew it was the perfect excuse to give you a visit.

You hadn’t been constantly on his mind. Rather, you perked up in his thoughts semi-reliably, but briefly a few times a day. Most affections were forgettable, he didn’t have time for anything other than whorish trysts with other heroes and those of higher society who knew how to keep their mouths (somewhat) shut. 

Part of him, the part that the Commission’s ruthless training created, hated the way how you were sticking with him.

Another part of him, the kinder, softer, very repressed one, recognized his feelings and hid them safely. Vulnerable things required heavy protection.

 When Keigo reached the teashop, early as dawn crept over the urbanscape, he pushed the door open and was greeted by the rolling smell of roasted coffee beans and black tea.

Only a few other patrons were there, eyes wide as the top ten hero gave them a trademark wave, waltzing to the counter with his signature swagger.

The workers (none of them being you) gawked at him, jaws half to the floor.

“Hawks?!” One of them exclaimed. “Oh my god, can I get an autograph?!”

 (Keigo carried a few pens on him for occasions like this.)

 The worker, a young thing with a shock of short blue hair, wrestled under the counter for a notebook. Another of the workers also attempted to wrangle a bit of receipt paper from the fussy machine, flashing him a nervous smile.

“Of course, autographs are a given,” He winked at the two of them, sauntering up to the counter. “On one condition, though. Could you tell me if (Y/N) is working?”

The morning shifts workers proceeded to gawk more. 

 You sat deep in concentration, thoroughly organizing yourself for the day with lists and plans. You were only startled from your work when one of the other baristas popped her head back, eyes wide. 

“Uh, (Y/N), I know you’re busy, but Hawks is here for you?” She stammered, saying his name incredulously and pointing a shaking finger out at the counter.

You could hear his silky laugh just beyond the precipice. 

Your mouth quirked up in surprise. 

I didn’t expect him to actually come.

It was a pleasant surprise though, one that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You put down the tablet, making your way to the front of the shop.

Hawks leaned down on the front counter, signing various papers and items that the staff and patrons of the tea shop had given him. His smooth voice echoed beautifully around the shop, mixing with the din of the soft music that provided ambient sound. 

Thoroughly absorbed in his fan interaction, you leaned against the door frame, watching him as he had yet to notice you.

(You tried to look nonchalant, but it was probably a bit of ogling.)

Hawks’s scarlet wings appeared sparse, but still twitched and fluffed every few moments. He was dressed in his hero uniform, visor pushed up into the feathery, front bits of his hair. With all of his typical regalia on, he seemed out of place in the slow din of the coffee shop. He seemed to shine so brightly, making himself a focal point without even trying. 

Without the protection of his visor, Hawks’ honeyed eyes seemed brighter, luminous from the inside out. Even from your distance, you could watch their topazine shine dance in the soft lighting. 

His gaze drifted to you and positively lit up. 

(You didn’t think that was possible.)  

Your stomach fluttered.

“Well, if it isn’t (Y/N)!” Hawks beamed you a smile that could’ve put the sun to shame. It made something deep in your chest thrum. “For a minute there, I thought you’d pulled my leg about working today.”

“Oh, never, ” You grinned, moving directly in front of him at the counter, your shocked coworkers parting for you. “I tend to work in the back if the rest of our lovely staff is present.

You gestured to your very starstruck coworkers who all gave various gawking looks before falling away, shyness obviously overtaking them. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t feeling similarly, but your nervousness was better hidden. Facades were, in fact, a trained skill in maintaining and god, if you weren’t a master.

But, Keigo had his own mastery in spotting cracks in people’s veneers. And, easily, he saw your tension and nervousness. For anyone with less trained interpersonal skills, they wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But to Keigo? Your anxiety was as clear as the light you added to a room. A few of his feathers twitched, picking up on the rapid beating of your heart across from him. 

“What can I get you?” You asked, speaking through any of your fears, cracking him a genuine smile.

Keigo returned it without thought, chest warming.

“Mmm... Surprise me. Something to help me get my day started.” Keigo loved the way your eyes lit up when he talked, a little bit of knowingness between the two of you sparking. 

“Same specifications as before? Hot and sweet?” You asked, already grabbing a cup, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

Hawks raised an eyebrow, batting his eyelashes at you in a way that you couldn’t not laugh. He rested his elbows on the counter and leaned over the top of it, regarding you with half-lidded eyes, “You remember my preferences? I feel honored.”

“You should,” You winked. If he was going to shamelessly flirt, you would right back. 

 Truthfully, your personal attention made Keigo swoon like a goddamn schoolgirl. He could feel sweat growing on his palms, making the leather of his gloves stick. Normally, the sensation would’ve ticked his more anxiety-ridden tendencies into overdrive, but he could hardly focus on them. He was too busy watching you flit around behind the counter.

 “So,” You began, activating your quirk and beginning your process. “Why so few feathers? Get roughed up?”

Keigo chuckled, flexing what feathers he did have left for emphasis, “Basically. I have to give them a few days to regrow. A couple nasty days in a row means a couple days recovery.”

You hummed, turning to the espresso machine. Before pouring the shot, you gave him a little smile with the cutest quirk in your lips, “I’m sure you more than deserve the rest.”

 Oh, that made his proverbial dick swell.

Someone, a very nice, stranger barista, angel, telling him he deserved something kind? And, there wasn’t an edge of dishonesty in you. If anything, there was an earnestness in your quirk-blackened eyes that made Keigo nearly scared of the amount of vulnerability you gave him so freely.

He wondered if you showed that to all of your patrons. 

(You didn’t.) 

 You turned behind the counter, quirk activated and swirling. The familiar blending of your senses made your teeth ache and head burn with the overabundance of stimuli, but you worked through it. You reached through the external sensations to manifest your idea and feeling into a conceivable reality. 

You dumped any number of syrups and shots into the cup, placing it (and a lid) on the counter in front of Hawks. Warm smells of cardamom and cinnamon tickled both of your noses as you nodded down, “Let that cool for a sec, then give it a taste. I need a comprehensive review.”

Hawks plucked off one of his gloves, taking the steaming cup in his hand, looking down at the foam. His gaze flickered around the two of you, noting that the few civilians and coworkers once surrounding him had left you two with a small bit of privacy.

���What’s the inspiration for this one?” Hawks gave you a downright sweet, knowing look.

“Take a sip and guess,” You nodded down to the cup again, idly going to wipe down the counters with a rag slung in your apron.

Hawks blew on steaming liquid, throwing back his head to take a decently sized sip. You had to tear your gaze from the bob of his throat. 

  Keep it in your pants. 

 While you were suppressing being horny for the number two hero, Keigo was suppressing being horny for a fucking beverage. 

The flavor hit his tongue and throat and danced. It was warm, like the last one, spilling hearth-like heat into his chest and extremities. But, this drink tasted literally spiced, like it had some sort of pepper in it (according to Keigo’s untrained, pitiful palette). His wings ruffled, feathers rustling and twitching with the taste of the drink. Despite the heat flooding his body, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose as waves of subtle pleasure rolled through Keigo’s body. 

He placed the cup back on the counter, staring you down with incredulity.

You, cutely cheeky as ever, just smiled and crossed your arms over your chest, “Are you a fan?”

“It’s... spicy. How. Why. Is this even coffee?” Hawks asked. Despite his questioning, he took another sip, shuddering at the comforting heat it gave him. 

“There’s coffee in it, or, espresso,” You couldn’t help feeling a bit smitten with the way Hawks looked at you. Disbelief wasn’t an expression you saw many heroes wear, especially not one with a reputation like Hawks’s. Yet, there he was, in front of you, staring at his cup like you just served him battery acid and grass. 

“If that’s the case, gimme the rundown, angel,” Hawks peeled off his other glove, setting the pair on the counter. He surprised you as he shrugged off his lined jacket, plopping down in a nearby stool.

You hadn’t ever really seen this much of Hawks, not in his hero uniform anyways. Plenty of him was available for viewing due to his various modeling ventures, but seeing him in the flesh was far better. The black shirt of his hero costume stretched over the lean, sculpted muscles of his arms. He certainly wasn’t built in the same way other top heroes were, but from what you could see (read: drool over), Hawks certainly wasn’t lacking—

“See something you like?” Hawks raised an eyebrow while taking another sip,  devilish curl to his lips.

You really wished you had the bodily control to stop the red flush that grew on your face.

“SO —!” You laughed, diverting back to the drink at hand. “The drink.”

“Wonderful deflection,” Hawks set the cup down, still smirking. “So, the drink .”

Your fingers tapped at the countertop, living your blush down with a lack of eye contact. 

  He gets stared at all the time, chill out. 

Dude probably likes it, (Y/N).

 “The drink is a dirty chai, with some editions, of course.” You jerked your head back to the wall of tea blends, the familiar ebbing away from of your embarrassment. “We have a couple of different chai blends that I make in house. Several different chai concentrates too.”

“Forgive me, but a dirty chai?” Hawks teased.

“Wow, weak jab there, Hawks, ” You rolled your eyes. Hawks just continued to beam at you, swinging his legs behind the counter. “I gave you an oatmilk,  ginger chai with three shots of espresso and a few other secret touches. I wanted to make it warm again for you.”

 Keigo paused at your admission, (not-so) secretly reveling in your poorly contained embarrassment. Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but his job did carry some wonderful perks and he’d be damned to not enjoy them. 

“It feels like a different kind of warm, compared to last time,” Keigo took another taste to confirm. The spiced liquid flooded his palette again, skin pleasantly prickling at the taste. 

 You hummed, refusing to fully make eye contact with Hawks. 

Truthfully, you spent an embarrassing amount of time since the night prior thinking about potential sensations to emulate for Hawks. You were never sure of what type of vibe he would request, but having an arsenal of ideas made you feel more prepared to impress your new clientele. 

“I made it feel like dawn,” You replied, nodding to out of the fully-windowed front of the tea shop. The district you were located in was lit up by the golds and pinks of the early morning, stretching and awakening with the new day. “I wanted it to feel like how morning sun feels on your bare skin. All like... tingly, you know? Like... seeing someone you haven't seen in a long time. ”

 Keigo immediately noticed your bashfulness after you gave your description. In the same way as last time, the vulnerability of your manifested feelings left you warm and shy for him. 

You picked at a loose string on your apron, gaze directed down and away.  With his obscured view of your face, he could see the way you softly bit your lip, eyes occasionally raking him up and down and that retreating. Keigo could feel your pounding heart and slow, deep breaths. 

...

Keigo was whipped and he hardly knew you. He was so fucked.

You were too fucking cute. It was fucking illegal. It had to be. 

Keigo had been with sexy. He’d been with unattainable. He’d been with women and men who looked like they were crafted by gods as tempters and devils. It was all pleasure and Keigo knew it like the back of his hand. He got hedonistic bliss when he wanted it and he did so very, very well.

What Keigo was entirely unfamiliar with was the gooey, fluttery feeling in his chest as you finally looked up at him to smile and nod to the drink, “So, what do you think?”

Keigo’s brain fizzled, rendered into goo. If he didn’t have years of interpersonal training, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to speak with his own revelations. Luckily, he was able to laugh off his internal stickiness, taking another greedy sip.

“Absolutely flawless, wonderful craftsmanship, (Y/N),” Keigo bowed his head dramatically. 

 You giggled at Keigo’s drama, missing the way how his cheeks lit up for you. 

Hawks dug in his pocket, pulling out a huge wad of bills and started to slide it across the counter, “This is a tip. All for you.”

You stared, horrified at the amount of money Hawks passed to you like it was nothing. Without thinking, you placed your hand on top of his, stopping his motion. Both of you stiffened pleasantly at the sudden, small contact. 

“That’s too much, Hawks, no,” You shook your head, but Hawks was a stubborn, insistent bastard. 

His wings fluffed up behind him, a feather moving quickly between your hands and pushing your up and away.

“What the fuck.” You half-groaned. Hawks fully passed the money across the counter, hiding his hands and feathers in his lap with a Panish smirk stretched across his face.

“Take it, or I tattle on you, easy trade,” Hawks shrugged, leaning his elbows on the counter and drinking deeply. He pulled away from his beverage with a relaxed-looking smile as you remained fluster.

(Holy fuck, you touched Hawks’s bare hand and it was so NICE—)

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers, staring at the money like some Olympic medal. You were well-aware that there was no way Hawks was taking back his money and you knew your coworkers would be too scared to ask for a cut. 

You gulped, taking the cash and tucking it into your apron pocket.

“You don’t need to bribe me to make you nice drinks, Hawks, it’s literally my job,” You told him gently.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, shrugging, “Accept it as a little treat on the side. A gift of my appreciation.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you relented with a smile, shaking your head. 

And the two of your dissolved into easy conversation. Hawks told you about the most recent gigs he had been a part of. A modeling contract for a new skincare company and a sponsorship with a few other local heroes for a sports beverage were the most interesting. You were sure he was just humoring you, unable to tell you the nitty-gritty details of his life. Yet, he seemed happy to speak and listen besides. He chattered away, in the way birds do, sing-song, and free-flowing. 

Hawks was hardly a bird of prey, you realized. He was much more of a cockatoo type. 

You told him more about the tea shop, about your role and job. As you explained about the basics of different types of tea, you could literally see the far off way Hawks looked at you. It wasn’t of distraction, like spacing out, no. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at you in some time. You silently and quickly studied it and came to the nerve-wracking conclusion that the cute blush on his cheeks and half-lidded eyes and relaxed shoulders was fucking captivation, borderline adoration.

For.

You.

How the fuck were you supposed to deal with that?

(Keigo wasn’t sure either.)

 Luckily, neither of you planned on doing anything to stop your mutually budding feelings.  

[taiblogcomics]

Mon-test of Champions

Hey there, fabric faces. Well, it's quite nearly Halloween. As such, I see no reason to spoil the nice holiday with a Red Hood comic. Instead, let's follow what's become something of a tradition for this blog the last couple years. Alas, due to pandemic, I did not return to that used bookstore and pick up more Bailey School Kids like I promised last year. But I do have another excellent treat for you. While this particular book wasn't a major part of my childhood, its author was: Bruce Coville.

I don't think this guy ever wrote a stinker of a book. Maybe some of the Space Brat series, but I think they were directed at a younger audience. But others were really good. The My Teacher is an Alien books were about humanity's place in the universe and their worth as a species. The Aliens Ate My Homework series was ultimately about the importance of being kind. The Magic Shop books were always about self-improvement. The point is, they were great books. I highly encourage you to pick up a few if you've never read any of his work. Now, as for the one we're covering today, it's not really as deep as his other works. But it does suit the season, and that's what's important~

Here's the cover, as photographed by me, because it's really hard to find a decent one on Google:

Oh boy, you can really tell by their jeans and high-tops that this is the '80s. Not to mention the audience's haircuts. And indeed, this book was published in 1989. It's actually one of his earlier books. Anyway, the Count here has something to declare, Frankenstein is supportive, and the Mummy's just happy to be here. The Wolfman, however, is looking directly into the camera like a jerk. He's also brought his dinner onstage with him, which is pretty rude. Don't get me started on this tentacle monster, who does not actually appear in the book proper. And thank god for that~

So our protagonist today is Mike McGraw. His mom runs an advertising firm, and his stepdad is a science-fiction author. Mike, however, is your typical teen, bored during the summer. His stepdad suggests he get a job, and furthermore encourages the job to be at his mom's workplace. Mike's actually into it, but his mom needs to be talked into it, so Mike excuses himself to the basement to bring up more drinks. In the basement, Mike is suddenly attacked. But it's okay, it's just his best friend, the unlikely-named Kevver Smith. Mike and Kevver have been friends since early childhood, and even share the same birthday. Kevver's also one up on Mike on their prank war now. Oh boy, just wait until Youtube happens, guys.

The boys return from the basement, and Mom has decided to give the boys a shot at being the office gofers. Kevver is included mostly so Mike doesn't get bored. The book skips a bit to get to their first day, where they meet Wendy Moon, the firm's major artist. She's also extremely dramatic, posing on the floor with an "Art is Dead" sign affixed to her chest. See, their current client wants a very boring design, and Wendy objects because, like, why do you even hire a graphic designer if you're not going to take their suggestions? Also working at the firm is Pete, who is the muscle, I guess. The book is unclear on his actual duties. It's not important.

Anyway, time passes and the pair get used to their new job. Everything seems fine until it isn't. Ed the Plumber, the client Wendy was complaining about, has decided to cancel the contract. He's been talked into it by Myrna Smud, a local activist who runs BAM: Billboards Are Monstrous. Get this: she's not against them for, like, aesthetic reasons. If she thought billboards were an eyesore, I could at least understand that. No, it's because she thinks billboards are too creative. They overstimulate children's imaginations and lead to criminal behaviour. And yes, she's serious. So the firm's in a bad mood because a blank billboard is a drain on the company.

The boys' birthday is coming up, and when asked for present ideas, Mike only has one thought in his head: he wants that billboard. It's going unused now, so why not let him do a goof with it? As usual, Stepdad Jeff talks Mom into it. Taking inspiration from Ms. Smud's ranting, Mike and Kevver collaborate with Wendy to design them a monster billboard. After a long brainstorming session, they come up with something not unlike the cover, inviting people to "Enter the Monster of the Year Contest Today!" With the design created, they reproduce it onto panels, and Pete helps them put it up on display. This has been a good third of the book already, which might be even slower pace than some Goosebumps books~

Fortunately, things do start to kick off now. With the billboard up, people begin to wonder who set it up. They contact the firm, and since the boys aren't trying to keep it a secret, they cop to it immediately. This gets them an invite to be on the radio with their favourite early morning DJ, Skip Toomaloo. And as unlikely a name as that is, you could get away with thinking it's just a radio persona. But no, when they actually go on the show, turns out Skip has a daughter named Lulu. Let me repeat that for you: Lulu Toomaloo. Saddled with a name like this, is it any wonder little Lulu turned into kind of a complete brat, planning revenge on her father at every waking moment? Worse yet, she's also a walking fat joke, since her wrath can be bought off with food. It was still the '80s, and that's what we did with fat characters. Seriously, though, nearly all her lines are her announcing she's hungry. There's probably a reason why this isn't one of Bruce Coville's more beloved books~

Anyway, the real meat of the story starts shortly after they find a cloud of bats conspicuously hanging around the billboard. A day or two later, they start to receive telegrams from Transylvania. Someone's now actively sponsoring the contest, and another someone is coming to enter. After confirming that Transylvania is, in fact, a real place, they decide to humour whoever sent the telegram, just in case it turns out to be true. They head to the airport at the stated time, though the flight ends up delayed, coming in at midnight. How appropriate~

The man who comes to meet them is a little hunchbacked fellow in a labcoat, who introduces himself as Igor. He's a bit harried, and rushes them all off to the baggage claim as quickly as possible. It's a good thing, too, since the plane crew has just unloaded an enormous crate for him. Before they can move it, though, the crate begins to shake. Suddenly a huge green fist smashes through one surface, threatening to burst out of the crate entirely. Either Igor's got a monster in the box, or his illegal Hulk Hands smuggling job is going poorly. Igor springs ahead and uses a syringe of some kind on the open hole in the crate. You can tell this is the '80s, since he managed to get that on the plane with him. The crate calms down and allows itself to be transported out to their car.

They try taking Igor to a hotel (conspicuously named the Karloff Inn), but Igor throws a fit when they won't take his Transylvanian money. Dude, I know your flight got in late, but you should've visited the currency exchange. That's on you, man. Since the hotel won't take him, they agree to put him and his crate up at their house. Igor insists on taking the crate up to the guest room with him. Fortunately, he's strong enough to make it an easy task. They all go to bed, and when they get up, there's a seven-foot green-skinned fellow at the breakfast table. Sounds like a typical Wednesday to me~

So this green fellow. He's exactly who you think he is, but what to call him? Well, this one is named Sigmund, but the brain is from a fellow named Fred. So he's called Sigmund Fred. Mostly the book just calls him Siggie, so that's what this review will do as well. But I will never, ever, ever, ever make a song about the Siggie. DJ Skip drops by, and he lets Igor and Siggie on his radio show so they can rant about how they were treated at the hotel. So at this point they're still debating how much of this is real or a publicity stunt. Even Mike's not sure--at least, until the enormous bat turns up in his room that night.

The bat, of course, quickly turns into a tall, pale man in a neat tuxedo. He introduces himself as "The Count" (and it's always just "the Count"), and assures Mike that he's not here to drink his blood. No, he's looking for hospitality. While Mike goes to clear it with his parents, the Count's coffin is delivered to the house. This is one of the funniest jokes in the whole book, because Stepdad Jeff thinks that vampires are more believable than a delivery service that operates at 3 AM. They set the Count up with a partitioned space in the basement.

At breakfast, it turns out that Siggie/Igor and the Count have a bit of a rivalry. They begin to fight at the breakfast table, both leading up to arguments of whose movies were worse. It only gets interrupted when the doorbell rings and the Creture from the Yucky Lagoon is standing there. We'll just be calling him Goony. Goony's appearance is a bit too convincing for anyone to think it's a costume anymore. (He even confesses they used to put a fake zipper on him for his movies.) And shortly after Goony moves in, someone else comes to the door. He's a perfectly ordinary-looking man, except for his large unibrow. After a comment from Igor, Mike realises he must be a werewolf. Where wolf? Here wolf.

The Mummy shows up overnight and off-screen, and Quasimodo (or "the Quaz" as the book decides to nickname him) also joins them further in the day. Skip invites the group out to dinner at a semi-formal restaurant called Chez Stadium. I see what you did there, Bruce. Anyway, as the group makes a toast to Mike and Kevver for hosting and judging the contest, and that's when Mike suddenly realises he's in deep shit. He's got to pick one of these monsters to make happy--and make the rest of them very angry. Mike tries to steer the conversation to their movies instead. This turns out to be a very bad idea.

Goony is a very sensitive sort and begins crying when teased at how bad his movies are (it's sadly true, one of them was even on Mystery Science Theater). This starts a long discussion and argument. The argument quickly turns physical, with all of the monsters rough-housing and throwing food. And of course, Myrna Smud is also at the restaurant, and she gets a faceful of it. Eventually, the police come and break it up. By the next day, Myrna has changed her BAM! campaign from "Billboards Are Monstrous" to "Ban All Monsters". Wasn't that a Godzilla film?

Hey, speaking of Godzilla, the doorbell rings again and delivers another package to Mike. Inside this one is a miniature, fire-breathing Tyrannosaurus. This is Gadzinga, star of those Japanese monster movies. Everyone knows they use miniatures in those films, right? Gadzinga talks very roughly, but fortunately not anything I would mark as stereotypical or racist. More of a Joey Wheeler Brooklyn accent, really. Which is... weird, but not questionable. They also make mention of a masked phantom in this scene, which is I think the only time it's mentioned. Anyway, to bolster their reputation, they decide to put in some appearances at the local schools.

This goes about as well as you're expecting. Actually, most of it goes pretty good. The Mummy talks to the history classes, Goony sits in on biology, and so forth. But then suddenly, all hell breaks loose. One classroom has cornered Igor, and he's not even a participant in the contest. He's more like Siggie's manager. Nevertheless, the kids are gonzo for Igor, mobbing him like a rockstar and demanding he sign stuff. I dunno, as a kid, I'd've gone for the Count myself. They manage to extricate him from the action, but the news crew catches it on film, leading Myrna Smud to talk more about "corrupting the youth" and "overstimulating the imagination".

And yet, it's finally time for the day of the contest. And of course, on the way there, there's a minor riot by Myrna Smud and her BAM squad. Lulu Toomaloo (who has been a major secondary character throughout, just not interesting enough to mention) actually grabs a megaphone and begins her own counter-protest. Essentially you have two sides shouting "we love monsters" or "ban all monsters" at each other. Eventually it boils over, and only ends up resolved when Kevver whips out their finale show-stopper: a mechanical flag that pops up and plays "The Star-Spangled Banner". Everyone's patriotism is stirred and resolves the issue. Nowadays, you'd think that'd only make things worse~

And now Mike has to make a decision. Struck with sudden inspiration, Mike begins a long speech about what it means to be a monster and how he's gotten to know each of these monsters and understand them over the course of the contest. But there's only one person present tonight to really exemplify what it means to be a monster, to have that ugliness inside and out. And that person is... Myrna Smud! Yes, who else is deserving enough of the title of Monster of the Year than someone who calls to ban a group of people from public appearances and declare they're ruining the children's minds. The other monsters look taken aback, but amusingly give their approval after a moment.

The book wraps up pretty quickly from there. Everyone decides not to sue each other. The monsters depart, keeping in touch with Mike and Kevver by mail. Turns out the whole contest did get them some publicity, and they're pulling in some new endorsement deals. Okay, boys, but if anyone tries to talk you into a "Dark Universe" series of movies, turn them down. It won't end well, I assure you. And the monsters themselves had so much fun tha they're willing to get together for a convention again each year. So watch out, because you never know if they'll host it in your town next~

This book is, honestly, pretty good. It’s one of Bruce Coville’s sillier works, which might also come from being one of his earlier works as well. And if you get down to it, it’s ultimately a story about treating folks with respect. It’s pretty much what all the monsters wanted, and why Myrna ended up worse than the lot of them. You could even argue Lulu fits a bit into that, in that no one likes her because she’s a terrible brat. I gave a very short summary of each scene because honestly it’s mostly a lot of back-and-forth dialogue, and that might be worth reading on your own~

And this Halloween, may you also open your home to the monsters that mean the most to you~

[fangzeronos]

New Year Observations

As the new year and new decade get started, I spent the day reflecting on the last ten years. I’ve seen friends get married, have their families, friends break up and get with someone else. I’ve had most of my family pass away and my friends pass away too. I’ve fallen out of contact with a lot of people, recently reconnecting with several of them. I’ve watched the country go from great to bad. I watched fandoms destroy themselves, toxicity running through them like a virus. I’ve seen franchises rise and fall, and companies go from giving a shit to only wanting our money to line their pockets.

 But looking back through the last ten years, I realize just how little I have accomplished or succeeded in.

 I used to work for my county’s 911 center as a dispatcher in 2011. I loved that job. I was forced out of it by the coordinator who seemed to think I was “spilling trade secrets” to my father who helped set the place up the year before. I sent fire and ambulance crews to scenes. I was responsible for one my friend’s deaths because I couldn’t get the helicopter launched quick enough to get to him. I still can’t look his wife in the eye even all these years later. That guilt still eats me up.

 I’ve got a semi-successful writing talent. AO3 and Fanfiction.net being where I post most of my stuff. I’ve completed a few multi-chapter epics, a lot of one-shots, some I even scrapped entirely or have been dragging my feet for months, all ranging from Teens to Explicit. My twitter (@FangZeronos) is just me rambling about television and movies and occasionally talking with a famous person.

 I started realizing through all my introspection, though, that my biggest problem feels like my life is unfulfilled. I know I couldn’t have gotten through the last ten years without my wonderful girlfriend beside me. She’s kept me grounded through everything. Part of my problem is I see how successful my friends are, see where they’re at, like teaching or a pharmacist or a drag racer or engineers or in the military, and I realize I never moved on or out of this little town. And I know why I didn’t, and I hate using this as my excuse, but it’s true.

 It was because of my mother. My mom had Multiple Sclerosis, and it got bad. It was to the point where they stopped counting the lesions on her brain and spine because there were so many. It was bad enough that by the time my sister was graduating high school, my mother was wheelchair bound. When I graduated in 2009, I had a chance to go to school full ride, no student loans, no nothing. MY uncle was going to pay for it, but I declined because I knew someone had to be here for my mother because Dad worked all the time and my sister was still in school and active in her church. I took care of my mom for 5 years. I did everything. Medication, going with her to appointments, getting her in and out of bed, helping her eat when she couldn’t steady her own hands.

 Then…September 2013, she developed an inoperable brain tumor. Glioblastoma primary multiform is what it was called. It was pushing down on her motor cortex, and if they tried to operate, it could have killed her quicker. She went through the radiation and chemotherapy, but it didn’t work. It got to the point that between the MS and the tumor, we couldn’t take care of her at home anymore, so we were forced to put her into a nursing home. I sat with her when Dad was doing the paperwork in the main office and trying to get her settled when she started screaming at me that I hated her, that I was a disappointment, I should have been aborted, etc. Same thing I’d heard for years at that point. The week before Saint Patrick’s Day 2014, she’d had a minor stroke that severed the brainstem from the spinal column. She was essentially a vegetable, feeding tube and breathing tube to keep her alive. Dad and I visited her in the hospital on March 13th, and I couldn’t bear to go back.

 He and my sister were there on the 14th, and they decided to leave since there wasn’t anything to do other then listen to the steady “beep beep beep” of the monitors. My sister looked back and said “Dad, is she supposed to be that color?” My dad worked ambulances for 30 years, so he felt her pulse, feeling the last beat of her heart. He said she smiled, like she was finally at peace. They got home, told me what happened.

 I’ll admit, I was a little callous. I honest to God said, “Good. Now we can get on with our lives and stop wasting our time with someone that didn’t want to do anything but bitch about how her care was being done.” There were more then a few fists thrown in the following days. We had a memorial for her in the middle of April, hardly anyone showed up.

 After that, I could have gotten a job, done something with my life, but…I didn’t. I stayed home, took care of the house, did the laundry, the dishes, took care of the cats, kept the house up. I still do all of that. But the fact is that I’m 28 years old and I have fuck all to show for it. A house full of video games, Lego, Funko Pop Vinyls, and plastic toys from Japan. That’s all I have to show for ten years out of high school. Everything in this town is either fast food or grocery stores or Walmart, and I’ve applied at several of them over the last few years. When I check on the applications, they say “We already hired someone. Thanks for your application.” But then still keep the “NOW HIRING” signs out all of the place.

 I do think there’s something wrong with me. I go to bed way too late, I’m up way too early. I eat way too many sweet things, don’t exercise, don’t diet. Some mornings I wake up and honestly say, “Oh, I’m still here. Damn.” It always happens between the start of September and the end of February. Today was one of those days. I went to bed at 2, was up at 7:30, had that thought. I struggle with that on a regular basis, but I don’t tell anyone. Dad’ll say I’m doing it for attention. I don’t know what my sister would say. I keep it bottled up because I don’t like asking for help or look for the attention.

 I think I’ve gone on long enough. This is about five hundred words more then I wanted…Happy new year, everyone.

 Daniel

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 113: The Duelists

"Are you sure about this?" Snow asked nervously, as she held the baby and rocked him gently and he started to fuss. Eli smiled at his little girl and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Yes...I'm sure. I'll be right there with you, but you are my heir. It's time for you and David to rule in my stead. You both are amazing leaders and you are the strong rulers that this Kingdom deserves," Eli said. Snow sighed and straightened her dress. It wasn't a ball gown and as formal as it might have been in their old land. They had decided that they would only continue to use Enchanted Forest fashions for balls, coronations, and very formal events. They had decided that the clothing native to the Land Without Magic made much more sense for their busy lives as rulers and parents. David was ruling beside her, but still continuing to police the town and now all the realms with Emma.

While Emma was Sheriff of Storybrooke, David's official title would now be King, as well as Supreme Knight and charged with protecting their Kingdom and James' as well, since they had announced that the northern Kingdom would be ruling their people jointly with David's Kingdom that they had returned to James, since David wanted to rule with Snow and take on a more active role in their protection, which didn't surprise anyone. David loved working with their daughter and was the perfect person for this role. He wore semi-formal attire beside his wife for this matter of state, but would trade it for his leather jacket and jeans, alongside Emma, when it came to policing the Kingdoms.

This morning though, Eli had invited many heads of state for this announcement, though the official coronation would come later.

"He's right sweetie...you and David are the leaders this Kingdom needs," Persephone agreed, as they watched a sparkling orange portal appear and Hades step through.

"It works…" he told his wife.

"What works?" David asked.

"Well, as you know, we still want to be close to you...but I need to rule from Olympus now," Persephone answered.

"So, I created a system of portals with a spell that will connect Olympus, this castle, and James'," Hades continued.

"Isn't that kind of dangerous?" David asked wearily.

"The portals are only accessible by the hairs of the people I used in the spell. I included those of us here, David's parents and brother, Regina, Henry, Demeter, Artemis, Apollo, Neal, Rumple, Belle, and Jefferson," Hades explained.

"That way we can still be very close by at all times and you can access Olympus whenever you need or want to," Persephone added.

"That's wonderful, mother," Snow said, as they shared a hug.

"I'm still not sure about this though," she fretted. Eli hugged her briefly and then stepped up in front of the Throne to address the nobles that were gathering. They had dismissed most of his original court when they had taken back the Kingdom. He had taken great pleasure in dismissing those that had treated his little girl so horribly. But unfortunately, dismissing them didn't mean they weren't still the nobility of his Kingdom and many of them were present. James was also present with his and David's parents, since they'd also be announcing the Kingdom merger.

"Thank you all for coming," Eli began, as he brought the attention of the room to him.

"Today, I've gathered my Kingdom together to make a very special announcement. As your King, I have made the decision that it is time for me to step down and crown my heir as your ruler," he announced, which created much commotion.

"The official coronation will come later, but my daughter and son-in-law are this Kingdom's new King and Queen, as I step down into an advisory role," he continued.

"Your daughter is an illegitimate heir!" the Duke protested.

"According to you perhaps, but there has never been a more legitimate heir than my daughter and my son-in-law is the perfect person to rule with her. I may have had to bend under your protests when I was married to Ravenna, but now as sole ruler of my Kingdom, you no longer have any power and she can no longer threaten this Kingdom with war!" he stated firmly.

"My daughter is the rightful Queen of this Kingdom and her husband will be her King," he announced.

"As our first decree as this Kingdom's rulers…" Snow began to say, as she and David joined hands.

"We're announcing that our Kingdom will merge with King James'," Snow announced.

"And the union of these two Kingdoms is blessed by the Gods," Persephone decreed.

"We know that this merger will be benefit the people. No longer will the nobility be the deal makers in your Kingdom. This is a new land and a new era where democracy will rule and the people will prosper," David said, as he spoke directly to the common person. Snow smiled at him.

"My husband is right. The days of your rulers over taxing you are over and we promise to always do what is best for the majority and not just the few that are wealthy," she promised, as the meeting dispersed. The nobility was obviously very unhappy by all of this, but others had received their announcement very well and seemed to trust their new leaders, a testament to Snow and David's reputation.

David felt his phone vibrate and answered it.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hello there mate…" came an accented voice.

"Hook?" he asked in confusion

"You know these bloody phone things are pretty handy...a nice bit of magic in a land that's not supposed to have any," Killian commented.

"What do you want, Hook?" David questioned.

"I'm just passing on a bit of interesting information that I think you may want to investigate," he said.

"Really? And what's in it for you?" David questioned.

"Touche...but I think you'll be interested to know that I saw that bloody demon Pan conversing with Blackbeard himself," Hook informed.

"Blackbeard?" David asked skeptically.

"Yes...and as bad as I've been at times, I have nothing on Blackbeard. But don't go spreading that around. If those two are talking...it's never good and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see those two go down," Hook replied.

"Thanks for the tip, seriously...I'll look into it right away," David said, as he hung up the phone and found Hades on the other end of the room.

"Hook just called me and said he spied Pan talking to Blackbeard. He suggested that it can't be good," David mentioned.

"Blackbeard...another one of the Underworld's biggest customers. He's right...one snake is bad enough, but two like them is much worse," Hades agreed.

"Fortunately...this might be exactly what we need to get rid of Pan," he added.

"Then I'm in...whatever you need. I want to make sure that demon can't get anywhere near my son," David said eagerly.

"Then I think I have the perfect plan," Hades replied.

~*~

"Look alive slags!" Hook ordered. Upon the uniting of the realms, Killian Jones found that his crew had returned and was without a Captain. They had returned to him, though now that all the realms were in one place, he wasn't sure what kind of future he had here. He had informed the Prince about Blackbeard's dealings with Pan, simply because he hated them both and with them out of the way, it would make controlling the seas a lot easier. But with all the realms now so close together and being ruled by Persephone, it made his need for revenge against the Crocodile even more risky. The bloody Dark One was actually friends with the Prince...now a King, which still blew his mind. Charming and the Crocodile as friends still sounded like an oxymoron to him, but then he had learned since that David had very humble beginnings, not unlike Rumpelstiltskin.

"You still seek revenge, Killian Jones, but are even more uncertain how to achieve that in this new land," Claude Frollo stated, as he appeared.

"Yes...but I assure you that I do not need the likes of you to help me find my way," Hook retorted, as he moved about his ship.

"Even if I knew of something with the ability to trap someone...anyone in a place or status. A flower that can confine even an immortal and allow them to be killed," he responded. Hook paused and turned to him.

"I've lived for more than three hundred years and know just about every flower or root in the Enchanted Forest and Neverland. No such thing exists, except perhaps Dreamshade. But the Crocodile would never fall for that. He knows its dangers too," Hook replied.

"I am not talking about dreamshade. The flower I am referring to does not have a special name. It is just a simple, rare golden flower that exists in another Enchanted forest that used to be out of reach, but that is no longer the case," Frollo responded.

"That territory beyond Neverland," Hook surmised, as he looked at this new magical forest that was now in the midst.

"Yes...if this flower's golden dust were to be combined with the power of my cauldron, I would be the God ruling the United Realms," Frollo offered.

"Hmm...exchanging the benevolent rule of Persephone for one of terror in yours…" Hook said, pretending to think about it.

"Pass…" he said.

"You'll regret this. If you will not retrieve it for me, then I will make a deal with Blackbeard. Think carefully…" Frollo warned.

"Make your deal with Blackbeard if you must. I have honor and good form. Blackbeard would betray his own mother. No deal," Hook refuted, as Frollo disappeared in a puff of smoke, quite agitated by his refusal. Hook smirked.

"You may make a deal with Blackbeard, but it won't do you any good if I get this flower first," he muttered.

"Mr. Smee!" he bellowed.

"Yes Captain?" his first mate answered.

"Prepare us to set sail," he ordered.

"What is the destination, Captain?" Smee questioned.

"That new magical forest...it's time to see what it has to offer me," Hook replied.

~*~

The bell on the shop rang and Rumple instantly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"You have three seconds to get out…" he hissed.

"That's not a very good way to greet your father, Rum…"

"You are no father…" he hissed.

"Perhaps not...but I could be. Think about it...if we make the right moves, we can rule the United Realms. Together," Pan offered.

"I have no interest in ruling anything with you, especially not a town and Kingdoms full of zombies, which is what this place will be if you're allowed to keep eating souls," Rumple answered.

"Ah, but we both know one way that I can have the sustenance I need to join you in immortality. If I have consume a product of true love...then I will no longer need ordinary souls to sustain me," Pan explained, with a smirk.

"Think about it...there are three options for me. Emma is less desirable. Though she is powerful...her innocence is long gone. She'd give me hundreds of years for sure...but wouldn't quite get me where I need to be," he said.

"And then there is my great grandson. The grandson of the two most powerful bloodlines in existence. The lightest and the darkest. Not to mention...we both know that he has the heart of the truest believer. If I take that heart and consume his soul...I'd achieve my immortality," Pan continued.

"If you think we will let you harm our grandson…" Rumple started to say.

"Relax Rumple...as tempting as Henry is, he is also my blood," Pan responded.

"Like that has ever stopped or bothered you before," the Dark One retorted.

"True...but there is now an option that doesn't involve Henry," Pan purported.

"The baby…" Rumple muttered.

"Yes...young Alexander Nolan Charming. Another product of true love; a love written in the stars by Athena. A child born with incredible magic like his sister, but as innocent as...well a baby," Pan mused.

"You are not eating that child's soul. Believe it or not...having you in any kind of powerful position is the last thing I want," Rumple refuted. Pan frowned.

"You want to side with me, Rumple...you do not want to be my enemy," he warned.

"Besides...it's not like those two idiots won't pop out more magical babies. They gave you the one you needed for the curse and now they can give me the one I need to live," he hissed.

"Do not compare us!" the Dark One hissed, but then sobered when he saw that his father was not backing down.

"And if I refuse?" Rumple questioned.

"I'll kill them...they're souls will be nice additions," Pan threatened. Rumple glowered at him and clenched his teeth, knowing that he was referring to Bae and Belle.

"What do you need from me?" he growled. Pan smirked victoriously.

"I can handle the two idiots and even their daughter. But I need a way to neutralize Hades and Persephone," he said. Rumple sighed painfully and opened his safe, before taking out a small box and sliding it over to him on the counter.

"Pandora's box. You have to get quite close to them when you activate it, but it can trap anyone, even Gods," Rumple said. Pan smirked.

"Thank you son...you won't regret this," he said, as he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Once he did, Belle came out from the back room.

"No...I won't," Rumple said, with a smirk.

"Do you think he bought it?" she asked. He nodded.

"Of course he did. I am the Dark One, after all. He expects me to betray the heroes and family alike...because that's exactly what he would do," he replied. She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"But you're nothing like him," she said.

"Let's go...we don't want to miss the show and by that I mean...Pan's demise," he replied, as he took her hand and they left through the back of the shop.

~*~

David arrived at the docks that afternoon to follow up on Hook's tip and he spotted the pirate Blackbeard on his ship, the Queen Anne's Revenge. Naturally, he had heard of this pirate. He was a ruthless man, evil and nearly without conscious. While Hook had done some deplorable things, he knew the other pirate was the way he was because he had suffered loss in his life. It didn't excuse anything he had done, including murdering his father, but he started out as a good person. The same could not be said for Blackbeard. He did evil things and killed without a second thought, for riches or sometimes just because he felt like it. He controlled much of the seas back home, but David was determined that this wouldn't be the case here in the United Realms.

"No one is permitted aboard the ship without the Captain's permission," one of the deckhand's hissed, as he leveled his sword at David.

"This is the United Realms and the rules have changed," David said, as he flashed his badge and pushed passed the man, before making his way onto the deck.

"Well, well, it's not everyday that my humble ship is visited by a royal. And a King at that," Blackbeard announced to his crew mockingly.

"Oh believe me, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. But since you were spotted conspiring with an enemy to my Kingdom earlier...I'm here to investigate," David said, as he noticed the pirates began to surround him.

"Really? Conspiring with an enemy. That is a very serious charge," Blackbeard replied.

"Yeah...and you're going to tell me everything you know about what Pan is up to," David said, as he noticed the pirates drew their swords.

"Am I?" Blackbeard goaded.

"And what will you do if I don't, Prince Charming?" he questioned.

"Well, for starters, I'll take down your entire crew if they try to attack me and then you and I will duel, if you're really intent on resisting. After that, I'll cuff all of you and you'll have a nice new home in the dungeon of my castle," David said, as Blackbeard and his crew all had a good laugh at that.

"Even the illustrious Prince Charming can't take us all on," Blackbeard stated.

"But it will be fun watching you try," he added.

"Last chance...I just want to know what Pan is planning and then I'll be on my way," David warned. But they didn't heed his warning and a couple of pirates moved in. With lightning quick reflexes, David unsheathed his sword and parried their attacks.

"Stand down...I didn't hurt you on purpose. But next time, you won't be so lucky," he warned. But they ignored his warning again and he dispatched them with ease.

"Well...the stories are true. We're in the presence of a real genuine dragon slayer, men," Blackbeard boasted.

"That's right...I've slayed dragons and they smelled better than you and your crew," David retorted, making the pirate Captain chuckle.

"Fighting dragons is much different than fighting pirates. I've slayed many a royal with far more training and experience than you," Blackbeard warned.

"So you say...and I doubt they've had my training," David countered. Blackbeard smirked.

"First one to get me his head so I can present it to his Queen gets half our next haul of gold," he announced to his men. But David was ready, as the pirates attacked and he took them all on. With fluid skill and perfect technique, David did something that not many ever did and that was shock the infamous pirate, as none of his crew was left standing after a short bout against the newly minted King of Misthaven. He wore a deep frown at that and drew his own cutlass.

"I warned you...and I'll ask one more time. Tell me what Pan is up to and I'll forget that your crew attacked me. I am a father that just wants to protect his children from that demon," David stated.

"Not even I cross Pan, Your Majesty...and you'd do well not to cross him either, unless you'd like those children to be fatherless," Blackbeard warned.

"I'll take my chances," David snapped in return.

"You are as brave as the legends boast...but not even a dragon slayer quite possesses your level of skill. I'm curious as to who your instructor was," Blackbeard inquired curiously. David smirked.

"He doesn't take over the hill pirates on as students," the blonde quipped in return. Blackbeard's frown deepened into a snarl, as they engaged in an all out duel.

David maneuvered defensively and parried the pirate's blade, as he came at him with vicious strikes. As he predicted, Blackbeard had a very aggressive style that made his necessary defensive moves elaborate and thus tiring. He wasn't surprised that this was Blackbeard's style. His aggressive movements were tiring too, but he likely banked on tiring his opponent out before he himself exhausted. And David suspected that this strategy often worked. His name wasn't infamous for no reason, after all. However, David was no ordinary opponent. In one life, Anna had trained him and trained him well. His original skills were impressive enough as it was and he could match even the fiercest opponent. But in his other life, his training with Eli and Hades had only further enhanced and honed his skills. Even against such an aggressive style, David was able to maintain a complete defense without tiring too much. Hades had rigorously trained him for this type of fight as he himself had a rather aggressive style.

"You can't keep dodging me forever, boy...I'll have you shadowboxing soon," Blackbeard warned.

"You're probably right," David confirmed.

"Your pretty head will be a boast worthy prize though and I imagine your fair Queen will be quite inconsolable," he continued to boast.

"No...she'll be just fine, because I'll be going home to her like I always do and she'll be in my arms tonight, while your evening will be spent in your new home. Our dungeon," David countered. Blackbeard chuckled.

"You admitted yourself that this is not a pace you can continue," Blackbeard shot back.

"And you were right about that...which means it's time to go on the offensive," David retorted, as David's footing shifted and he came at the pirate with fell swoops and sharp angles. The pirate was forced to backpedal on his own ship and growled, as he tried to beat him back. But the smirk remained on David's face, as he matched the pirate blow for blow. Blackbeard yelled in frustration, as he brought his blade up, intending to beat his opponent down with the hilt if he had to, but his anger made him sloppy and David capitalized on the moment of error. He stopped Blackbeard's blade in a high arc and with a flick of his wrist, he split his defenses and sliced the pirate's hand. It was a minor wound, but enough to disarm him and David caught his cutlass before it could clatter to the deck. He held both weapons to the pirate's neck, forcing him to yield.

"I haven't enjoyed a dual that much in years," Hades said, as the pirate looked up to find the former God of the Underworld in the crow's nest. He jumped down easily and landed on his feet.

"Those were some nice moves. Who taught you those? Oh wait...it was me," Hades boasted, as he waved his hands and Blackbeard found himself in shackles.

"Eli deserves some credit too," David admonished.

"I suppose," the former God of the Underworld amitted, before turning his attention to the defeated pirate.

"Tell us what Pan is planning," Hades demanded to know.

"I thought you knew...he's after your brat," Blackbeard hissed, as he looked at David.

"But he wouldn't need to talk to you if he didn't need to make a deal of some sort. Tell me...or the ship burns," Hades warned, as a blue fireball appeared in his hand. Blackbeard was silent and the former God of the dead was true to his word, as he lit the mast ablaze.

"Damn you...all right! Stop! The bloody demon wanted me to create a problem big enough to distract you and your wife. He plans to take the two of you out so getting the child will be an easy play," Blackbeard confessed.

"He promised I could have its parents and ransom them to the highest bidder. He figures Frollo and Ravenna would fight over who gets their heads. Or perhaps Leopold will pay for your wife...and I think he wants more than her head," Blackbeard goaded, as he looked at David. The former Prince and now King angrily swept the pirate's legs out from under him. He hit the deck on his back and David poised his sword at his throat.

"Talk about her like that again...and we'll skip the dungeon," he warned.

"And the fates will not be kind in their judgement of you in the Underworld," Hades added.

"You have what you want...now leave me," Blackbeard hissed.

"Oh no, you're still going to a rat infested dungeon," Hades said, as he waved his hand and the pirates all disappeared.

"You were right...he's making his move today," David said worriedly.

"Don't worry...our plan is in place. This will work," Hades assured. David nodded, hoping he was right and followed his father-in-law back onto the dock. They headed for Storybrooke, where, if Hades was right, Pan was getting ready to make his move. The bait was set and the trap was ready to be sprung.

[livingthe-lexi-life]

╰ ☀ ✧ ˖ BAE SUZY. FEMALE. SHE/HER. ‖ BIGGEST REGRET, LOVING WHO I SHOULDN’T ‖ have you seen ALEXIS ‘LEXI’ PARK at the beach recently? i remember them being so CHARMING, but they seemed a little SELF-DESTRUCTIVE today. it must be tough going through such hard times at only TWENTY-TWO. even then, they still remind me of BAREFOOT WALKS ON THE BEACH IN A WHITE DRESS, CHAMPAGNE, HORROR MOVIES ON RAINY DAYS, MIDNIGHT PIZZA, AND SPONTANEOUS KISSES.

hello friends, I am so ready for plotting so hit me up on discord or IMs here to plot. Wanted connections at the end. SORRY FOR THE PARAGRAPHS but plis read. I’m just so shitty at listing things.

Alexis ‘Lexi’ Park (Blythe) Age: 22 Birthday: February 27 (Pisces) Orientation: Hetero O1 ━◞ FAMILY - Alexis Park had been Alexis Blythe up until she turned 18 when she legally changed her last name back to her original Korean surname as a huge ass fuck you to her adoptive parents. Her mother had left her in front of a massage parlour in the Gangnam district hoping somebody would pick her up. The government did and she was effectively orphaned. Adopted by a big-shot politican and his trust-fund socialite wife when she was a baby, Lexi never knew why they had chosen to adopt from Korea. Maybe they had just wanted the picture perfect family even though they couldn’t, or rather her father couldn’t. Maybe they wanted to show how progressive and altruistic they were. Nevertheless, Lexi only remembers being raised by the nanny, watching Disney movies, and seeing her parents when they needed her to act her part in the long-standing Blythe political legacy of senators and congressmen. Last she had heard of her father, Alexander Duke Blythe was looking to be the next presidential candidate. O2 ━◞ CAREER - Attention-deprived, and raised in Los Angeles, it only made sense for Lexi to pursue a career to famehood through acting. Broadway, singing, dance and acting classes were part of her busy schedule growing up. She had never held a knack for subjects like math or literature (basically she wasn’t the brightest academic), but the dramatic arts came to her naturally. Instead of going to university, she worked as an extra at 17 before finally catching a break at 19 as a minor character. Appealing to the audiences as the ‘sweet and innocent’ trope, she began to take on more movie roles. The nickname going around Hollywood translated into “America’s Angel”. The problem with being forced into a trope was she rarely got roles past the secondary or tertiary characters. Having been a solid B-lister for the past 5 years, Lexi has recently been trying to take on more sensual and provocative roles. Because everyone knows the key to stardom is for everyone to watch you sleep around in theatres. Her last movie, He Said She Said was a rom-com that crashed and burned, but the newest blockbuster coming out may just be a movie for the charts. O3 ━◞ PERSONALITY - PISCES - Don’t get her wrong. She cares deeply for her friends. They’re the family she doesn’t feel that she has. Her crew is always surprised she’s not a total diva and is usually just an outgoing and (for the most part) amiable girl. Whether in the way she walks or smiles, she does have a little bit of that superstar formula that draws people in. It’s just her little self-destructive tendencies and obsession for finding love that gets her into trouble. Empty family life pushed Lexi to dream of her future family and Prince Charming. When she isn’t thinking of movie scripts, she is wondering when her life will turn into a rom-com. Sometimes she loses track of reality in her naivete and desperation. O4 ━◞ SCANDAL - A year ago, she met one of her father’s colleagues. One of the youngest Senators ever from California. Young and naive, she was head over heels in love. He swore that he would break up with his wife and that he didn’t love her anymore. As things go, the senator’s wife discovered their affair through a private investigator. Holding the photos over head, she threatened Lexi that she would ruin the Senator’s reputation unless Lexi stayed away from her husband. To tend to her broken heart and avoid blowing up both Lexi’s and the senator’s careers, her manager sent her to Palm Beach, Florida to lay low and film a tv show until things can boil over for the last half a year. O5 ━◞ QUIRKS - Lexi really likes to eat - everything and anything. In fact, for a striving starlet, she really likes fast food like hamburgers and pizza far too much. In response, she is up early doing some sort of physical activity as a semi-guilty ritual. She basically can’t go through the day without exercising because she’s so anxious about her appearance and her extreme love for food. O6 ━◞ LIKES - ♕ food tbh ♕ pornstars (the drink) ♕ cream earl grey tea ♕ anything fruity ♕ Zombie apocalypse and horror shows/movies O6 ━◞ WANTED CONNECTIONS - ♕ all the besties and friends ♕ her one true soul sister, the one she turns to when she’s having the worst fucking day and someone she can ride and die for ♕ all that love ships/maybe kind of a rebound/maybe more ♕ someone who knew her ex or even of the scandal in some way///or or or or someone lexi got really drunk with and accidentally ugly cried to about her being a mistress ♕ an ex maybe, maybe when she was first trying to become an actress? ♕ or someone she has slept around with/is sleeping around with ♕ a fan of her movies/tv shows!? ♕ roommate(s) ♕ early morning workout buddies ♕ someone she has worked with in the industry before like fellow celebs/crew/photographers/filmographers/etc/etc?

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Family Fun Day

Summary: An anonymous prompt from my Chance Encounter ‘verse: “It's Belle's first time of the museum's annual event. People tell her that their director, Mr. Gold, is a scary, mysterious man but is definitely cool and genuine when he dresses up as Rumplestiltskin for this event.”

Chance Encounter was one of the fics I wrote for the Rumbelle Showdown earlier this year, and it can be read here.

Rated: G

=====

Family Fun Day

Belle had always had to hide a smile when her colleagues at the maritime museum would warn her about the terrifying director, Mr Gold. They told her all the horror stories of the interns that he’d made cry with a single scathing comment, of the many secretaries he’d given nervous breakdowns, of the way he could manipulate the museum board into satisfying his every demand. Truth be told, Belle just found the tales amusing, because her first and lasting impression of Rum Gold would always be a slightly scruffy stranger in a parka in a cave, telling her all about the legend of the great smuggler Rumpelstiltskin’s missing hoard of treasure, and although, in her position as chief archivist at the museum, she frequently crossed paths with the director, their interactions had been never been anything but civil.

And perhaps, Belle admitted to herself, a little bit flirtatious. They did, after all, share something of an inside joke. Well, it wasn’t really a joke per se, just a little thing that no-one else knew about. That morning in the hidden cave was their private little secret, and Belle was content to keep it that way.

So when Mr Gold asked her if she was willing to help out with the museum’s annual family fun day, she was more than happy to agree to the proposal. From all accounts of the staff who had been there for the previous events, it was always a highlight in the town’s calendar, with plenty of events for children of all ages, including an underwater themed bouncy castle and a puppet show starring the pirates and smugglers that the seaside town of Storybrooke was famous for. During her time at the museum, with access to its vast archives of materials on the smugglers, Belle had learned a lot about Storybrooke’s most famous son, and she was looking forward to sharing this knowledge with the younger generation and hopefully inspiring in them the same love of history and pride in their hometown that she had. The museum was designed to be child friendly, but it wasn’t all that interactive, and she knew that small children would easily get bored just looking at displays and artefacts. The family fun day was a great way to get them interested in the museum.

There was one other reason why she was eager to take part in the fun day activities, and that was the cryptic insinuations of one of her friends on the museum staff. Astrid worked on reception and had greeted her on the day of her interview, when Belle had had to double take at the sight of Mr Gold in his sharp suit having met him in the cave the day before, and whilst Astrid still held some fear of the man, it was not as pronounced as some of the other museum workers. Astrid had said that Belle would see an entirely new side to Mr Gold on the day, and no matter how much she asked, wheedled and downright bribed her friend, Belle could not get any more information on the matter out of her, simply being told to wait and see.

The morning of the fun day dawned bright and early, not a cloud in the sky, and Belle was at the museum well before opening time to supervise the unloading and inflating of the bouncy castle. Astrid brought out a mug of tea for her, and together they watched the semi-inflated castle. The shapes of the divers and dolphins looked rather painful and distorted, and even though they were just painted on plastic, Belle grimaced in sympathy as they inflated and started puffing out in unfortunate places.

“It’s probably a good thing that we get it all set up before the kiddies start arriving,” Astrid mused. “This looks fascinatingly obscene.”

The two ladies continued to watch the proceedings for a while until Belle caught sight of Mr Gold crossing towards them from the car park, and she had to raise an eyebrow because he was looking much the same as usual, still dressed in the same suit and tie with no concession to the warm weather. The only things that were slightly out of the ordinary were the garment bag he was carrying and the fact that he evidently hadn’t shaved that morning. He was looking a little more like the man in the parka that Belle knew was hidden beneath the suit.

“Good morning ladies.” He nodded respectfully and went into the museum, disappearing off into the director’s office. Once he was out of sight, Belle turned to Astrid.

“I’m not seeing an entirely new side to him.”

“Just wait,” Astrid said with a grin. “You will.”

The day continued to great success, the children enjoying all the activities that the staff were laying on - even if a few of them were a bit green after consuming too much cake from the Lifeboat Charity bake sale and then going straight on the bouncy castle - and Belle was having just as much fun as the families. When not supervising the bouncy castle, she was involved in some of the storytelling sessions taking place inside the museum throughout the day, telling tales of life on the high seas at various points during history, and some of Storybrooke’s most interesting and obscure run-ins with smugglers and pirates. According to Astrid, the main attraction of the day was the storytelling session in which the great Rumpelstiltskin himself would tell tales of his exploits on the seven seas. It was so popular that they commandeered the museum’s conference centre to accommodate all the people they were expecting to attend.

Knowing that Mr Gold had spent most of the day in the conference centre, Belle began to wonder. At first she had assumed that he was hiding from the vastly increased number of visitors to the museum - he was never the most social of creatures - but now she wasn’t so sure. As she entered the conference centre just before the appointed time and managed to slip into a seat at the back beside Astrid, she thought that her ponderings might have paid off. The usually sleek and professional presentation room, with its plush tiered seating, had been transformed into a shadowy seaside cave, complete with chests of chocolate coin ‘treasure’ and very realistic seeming pieces of ship’s driftwood. Across the front wall, above the projector screen (which was displaying a video of sailors dancing a hornpipe aboard a tall ship), was a replica of the Spindle Imp’s nameplate, just as she had seen wedged into the cracks in the rocks of the hidden cave on the shore. Yes, this session was definitely going to immerse the visitors right into the heart of Rumpelstiltskin’s legend. Once the conference centre was full to capacity, the lights dimmed, and a figure strode out from the wings towards the presenter’s podium. As he stepped into the light, Belle had to stifle a gasp. Well, she would have had to stifle a gasp had her gasp not been drowned out by the exclamations of delight from the visitors.

Mr Gold, the so-called terror of the museum, was dressed up as his ancestor, the famed smuggler Jonathan Gold, alias Rumpelstiltskin, terror of the high seas and bane of lawmakers, Storybrooke’s most popular dashing rogue. A hat with a feather in it, a long frock coat, knee high boots with very tight trousers tucked into them… Belle could not quite believe what she was seeing, but she definitely liked what she saw.

“Told you so,” Astrid whispered with a grin. “But it gets better, I promise.”

Astrid did not let her down.

“Good afternoon ladies, gentlemen, young deck swabbers and would-be members of the crew of the Spindle Imp,” Gold began, and immediately Belle was entranced. She knew how invested Gold was in the legends surrounding his ancestors and the Rumpelstiltskin horde that had even been found, but the passion that he was showing as he sprang around the room re-enacting some of the daring adventures and fights that the smuggler had seen in his days, much to the utter delight of the kids in the audience, was something else entirely. He truly became the character, and in the parts where he was not trying to be scary for the audience’s benefit to show what a fearsome smuggler Rumpelstiltskin had been, his genuine enthusiasm for the role and for the entertainment of the children in the audience was palpable. Several times he got some of the younger ones up to hold various props or illustrate a point or two, and they always went back to their seats giggling, having been warned that if they misbehaved during the rest of the fun day then he would have them swabbing decks till closing time.

“Now,” Gold said, his eyes scanning the audience as if he were looking out to sea over the horizon. “A lot of other sailors at this time thought that it was bad luck to take a woman on board a smuggling ship. But not me. Who here’s heard of Anne Bonny? The famous lady pirate?” A few hands were raised and Gold nodded. “Well, history shows that she was just as good a sailor as any of the men aboard Jack Rackham’s ship, and far more fearless than Calico Jack himself, who was a bit of a coward when it came down to it by all accounts. So I thought it might be a good idea to have a few women on my crew, since they’d definitely proved their mettle. Who here knows the name of my right-hand woman?”

“Isabella de Chevalier!” someone in the front row yelled out.

“Precisely. Now, since Madame de Chevalier sadly can’t be with us today, can I have a stand-in? Perhaps Miss French, if you’d be so kind?”

Belle felt herself blushing as she made her way down the tiers to the front, and accepted the long sword that Gold handed her.

“You’ll be fine,” he muttered in her ear as he adjusted her grip on it. “I just don’t trust members of the public with the finer items in the museum’s collection.” Then he turned back to the audience. “Miss French is holding the very blade that Madame de Chevalier uses on board the Spindle Imp. She’s a high-born lady married to a boorish French nobleman, and she longs for adventures of all kinds. Including in the company of smugglers and pirates. So she steals Beauty, her father’s blade, and runs off to join a ship. A ship that just so happens to be called the Spindle Imp. And since I, Rumpelstiltskin, am being known at the time as the Beast of Storybrooke, and Madame de Chevalier wielding the Beauty of Marchmonts, well, it’s hardly surprising that their story turned into a fairy tale.”

Belle swung the sword in as swashbuckling a manner as possible, but quickly put it down when it turned out to be rather heavier than she was expecting. She didn’t want to take Gold’s nose off by accident, however much realism it might have added to the presentation.

“Unfortunately, it’s a fairy tale whose ending remains unknown,” Gold said. “In 1720, Madame de Chevalier and I simply vanished, leaving just the sword and some diaries behind. People have been trying to find the Spindle Imp’s loot for centuries, but it remains lost to the seas. Which, I think, is just the way I would have liked it. That, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, is the end of the tale. Thank you to all my volunteer deckhands, thank you to Miss French, please do help yourself to pieces of eight on your way out, there’s plenty to go around. Edible treasure is the best kind of treasure, of course.”

Belle hung around at the front of the centre with Gold as the audience began to file out, and Gold bowed to each of the people who thanked him for such a wonderful tale. Finally, it was just the two of them left, and Gold let out a long sigh, taking off his hat and running a hand through his damp hair where he’d worked up a hot sweat during his performance.

“So, what did you think, Madame de Chevalier?” he asked. Belle just gave a little round of applause.

“You were magnificent,” she said. “I refuse to believe that the great Rumpelstiltskin was anything other than how you portrayed him.”

“Well, I do have a slight advantage of family records,” Gold said. He gave her a grin, flashing the gold in his tooth that had always been there but that looked even better today with the rest of his outfit. “Maybe it’s in the genes.”

“How are you related to him?”

“We’re not entirely sure. The records of his family are patchy. According to my Aunt Elvira we can trace our heritage back to Douglas Gold, who was living around the time of Rumpelstiltskin’s disappearance, and he’s widely claimed to be Rumpelstiltskin’s nephew, his sister’s son. But the evidence of his sister’s existence is inconclusive and some people claim that Douglas was actually the son of Jonathan Gold and Madame de Chevalier. I guess it’s one of those things that we’ll never know.”

“It’s still fascinating, whatever the truth might be.”

Gold bowed. “I’m glad you think so.”

Together they set about clearing up the conference centre. It was sad to see it transform from its watery wonderland back into its usual professional appearance, but it was nice to work with Gold alone for a while. Once the place was clean and tidy once more, he looked down at his attire.

“I’d better get changed or else I’ll get mobbed once I go out into the museum again,” he said. “But all the same, I think it’s been a good day so far.”

Belle nodded. “It’s been brilliant. Will we have a repeat performance next year?”

“But of course. Rumpelstiltskin’s storytelling session has become quite the attraction.”

“I can certainly see why.”

Gold paused for a moment. “Thank you for all your help today, Belle,” he said. “Perhaps… Could I take you out for a drink tonight, once everything’s packed up? To say a proper thank you, and because after all the running around today I think you’ll need it. And… Well, because I’d really like to go out for a drink with you.”

Belle smiled. “Captain Gold, Madame de Chevalier would be delighted to go for a drink with you. Although I have to say that I don’t like rum.”

“Neither do I, for all I get called it. Would wine do as an alternative?”

“Wine will do nicely.”

“In that case, it’s a date.”

Belle smiled. “It most certainly is.”

The family fun day was definitely set to be one of the most successful in the museum’s history, and for Belle, it was only the beginning...

[thisisheffner]

Austerity, gentrification and big tunes: why illegal raves are flourishing | Music | The Guardian

It’s an hour after midnight on New Year’s Day 2020, and a stream of revellers is gathering in an alleyway next to KFC on London’s Old Kent Road. They pass between piles of car tyres and through a gap in a gate where a group, wrapped in hats and scarves, are taking £5 notes from each person who enters the yard of a recently abandoned Carpetright warehouse.

Inside, the lights are on and groups of partygoers are huddled in groups talking, waiting and smoking as a behemoth sound system and makeshift bar are constructed against one wall. Next door, in a larger abandoned warehouse that was formerly an Office Outlet, an even bigger sound system is being built.

There’s a sense of anticipation as the warehouse fills up with mohawked punks, tracksuited squatters, crusties, rude boys, accountants, graphic designers, students, and grey-haired veteran techno heads. Everyone has come together looking for the same thing: a night of loud electronic music and dancing without the constraints of a regulated night club. No closing time, no dress code, no age limit, no searches on the door.

In recent years, unlicensed underground raves like these, which are run by decentralised networks of soundsystems and party crews, have flourished across the UK as legitimate night clubs have foundered in the face of tighter licensing requirements and a population of young people with less disposable income.

In September, the drum’n’bass producer Goldie, who was awarded an MBE for his services to music in 2016, singled out illegal parties such as these as a key pillar of the UK dance music scene amid struggling clubs and increasingly corporate festivals. “Culture ain’t a thing you can put in a weekend festival,” he said. “Rave culture is thriving, but on an underground level. People want to go to fucking raves, people want to go to illegal parties.”

I played an illegal rave in a forest last night in Blackburn those kids are brilliant,there love for the music is pure! #dropjaw 🔥⚡️🙏🏼

Bryan Gee, another British hall-of-fame drum’n’bass DJ, started playing reggae at south London squat parties in the early 80s, when he was 16. Today, he is in his 50s and still plays occasionally at unlicensed raves despite regularly DJing for crowds of over 7,000 at legitimate commercial venues. “I’ve turned up to unlicensed parties over the last couple of years and been shocked by the numbers,” he says. “Some club nights spend a ton of money on advertising and can’t pull in anything like the numbers these events get.”

“Since the 80s the illegal rave scene has always been active on some level,” says John (not his real name), a member of a prolific London-based free party crew. “It’s no coincidence that the original boom in acid house free parties took place after a decade of Tory government headed by Margaret Thatcher. It’s still here now and the current political climate is one reason why it’s healthier than it’s been for a long time.”

The last couple of years have seen scores of unlicensed events across the country, from 5,000-strong mega-raves in Bristol warehouses, to three-day breakcore soundclashes on south coast beaches, to intimate psytrance parties in the woodlands of Lancashire, and multi-rig “teknivals” on Scottish wind farms. Like John, many of those involved in the free party scene believe that these events are becoming more important than ever amid the widening social divides, ongoing Tory austerity and creeping gentrification.

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The free party veteran and acid techno innovator Chris Liberator says that unlicensed raves are a way for people to take back control of their local areas, even if it is only for one night. “We are culturally in a place where normal people can’t control their environment at all,” he says. “I’ve seen the best pubs in my area turned into Starbucks – homogenous, big corporate high streets all with the same shops. There’s no space for people to live – let alone to throw events and have some fun on their own terms. There is very little cultural representation for anyone apart from the mainstream, and even the mainstream clubs are struggling to stay open.”

Police, though, maintain that these events pose “a significant risk to public order and public safety”, in the words of Metropolitan police service commander Dave Musker, who is the national lead for unlicensed music events. He describes them as “illegal, dangerous gatherings that encourage antisocial behaviour and are linked with serious criminal activity” and adds that organisers are changing the “structure” of their parties to “counter police tactics” (understandably, he refuses to detail these tactics on either side).

By 3am, hundreds of people have filled the dimly-lit warehouse. The giant sound system is thundering out a gut-shuddering set of bass-heavy jungle, and the walls are covered in an increasingly dense patchwork of graffiti tags. A heaving mass of ravers are thrashing and embracing on the thickly carpeted dancefloor in front of the speaker stacks. Around them are signs that say “20% off 1000s of carpets”.

People are risking arrest to create a space where people can come together, no matter who they are, in a country where social divides are increasing

In a era of austerity, the unlicensed rave scene offers people a low-priced alternative to legal clubs. But that’s not the main reason people attend, according to Sophie Duniam, one half of underground electronic music duo My Bad Sister, which started out MCing at illegal events. “It offers people a place where they can come together as a community without prejudice and without intimidation,” she says. “People are risking arrest just to create a space where people can come together, no matter who they are, in a country where social divides are increasing. What the Tory government, and all governments, want to do is to isolate people so they can control them. When communities are united they are stronger and they can’t be pushed around.”

Duniam says that the ability of clubs and festivals to provide a similar space for free expression has been curtailed in recent years due to more stringent attitudes towards licence requirements. Drug-related incidents have led to the closure of several clubs in recent years, including The Arches, which used to be located in Glasgow and had its nightclub licence revoked in 2015, after the death of an underage clubber. In 2016, London superclub Fabric also saw its licence taken away for five months, following the death of two 18-year-olds after taking drugs on the premises. It reopened in 2017 with stricter security regulations. “It’s like 1920s prohibition in America,” Duniam says of the legal clubbing scene. “When we perform at Fabric all of the punters are searched and have their passports photocopied before they are allowed into the club – and you can get chucked out for having a vape.”

Many believe the rave scene is filling a void left after a decline in grassroots venues, defined by the mayor of London’s office as those that focus mainly on music, and play an important role in local communities or as a hub for musicians. In July, figures revealed there were only 100 grassroots music venues in the capital, 30% fewer than in 2007. It’s representative of a nationwide decline: a government select committee report published in 2019 warned that the “closure of music venues presents a significant and urgent challenge to the UK’s music industry and cultural vibrancy”.

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The Bristol-based DJ, producer and record label owner Mandidextrous, who started her career DJing at free parties in the early 2000s in Buckinghamshire, says “the innovation that happens in the underground is what fuels the commercial scene”. She also believes that the UK’s squat party scene offers a unique space for people to come together. “As a transgender woman, I’ve been two different people in the rave scene, and I have been openly welcomed throughout the whole thing. You get every single walk of life.”

It’s 10am on the Old Kent Road, New Year’s Day. A flood of new people enter the former Office Outlet warehouse from another unlicensed event, which took place in an office block on the South Bank and was shut down after police seized the sound system in the early hours. As the pale morning light streams through the skylights, hundreds of ravers are dancing to a hardtek remix of DJ Nehpets’ Bounce, Ride. A man with a wild head of grey hair is cutting intricate lines through the peripheries of a crowd of a pair of roller skates, swooping inches away from a teenager asleep on the floor wrapped up in a large yellow “Store Closing” sign.

Since the original boom in acid house parties in the late 80s, the unlicensed rave scene has been the target of media scare stories about drug overdoses and violence, but many of those who regularly attend say they feel safer than when they attend legal club nights. “Parties take place without a problem every weekend,” says Duniam, comparing them with licensed events where “people are kicked out at four in the morning, or earlier if they have done something to piss off the security. If you are a teenage girl and you haven’t got money for a cab, and the trains don’t start running until six or seven in the morning, being thrown out can leave you in a very vulnerable position. This would never happen at most illegal raves where, because no one is getting paid to look after anyone, everyone is looking out for each other as a community.”

The police claim this utopian vision is false. In 2017, two people were shot when gunmen wearing masks let off semi-automatic weapons at an illegal party in Leyton, and over the course of 2014 two teenage boys died after taking drugs at separate unlicensed raves in London. The Met’s Dave Musker says: “The obvious public risk comes from unsafe derelict buildings, overcrowding and youths being exposed to alcohol and illegal drugs in an environment which encourages excess. The revellers at these events are often unlikely to report crimes, including serious sexual assault, due to the culture of taking part in an illegal activity. Young people under the influence of alcohol or drugs are also at risk of being victims of crime or violence as they leave the venue.” He maintains the police’s priority is “to protect vulnerable people”.

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This is all a gross misrepresentation, according to Mandidextrous. “I’ve been attending illegal raves for more than 20 years, attending hundreds of illegal parties, and I have hardly seen any violence,” she says. “Any I have seen has actually come from the presence of police. If you go down any high street on a Saturday night you see bar brawls and fights on the streets; if you go to a rave, no one is fighting. Everyone is there to have a good time. Occasionally you get a few bad people – but nine times out of 10 they are marched out of the rave as soon as they do something wrong.”

The rave in Carpetright at least passes off without incident: by 9pm, the last of the equipment is being packed into vans while a handful of remaining partygoers sit around a small fire in the yard of the warehouse. Some are discussing the Tory campaign pledge to change the law on trespass and give police new powers to arrest and seize the property and vehicles of those “who set up unauthorised encampments”. The plans have been seen as an attempt to criminalise Gypsies and Travellers, and could also have ramifications for the free party scene. “Even if the laws get changed raves will carry on in some form,” says one person. “There are too many crews and too many sound systems.” As if to illustrate their point, another white van pulls up, and another crew get out to clean up the venue ahead of their own party the following weekend.

This content was originally published here.

[southcoastfires]

It’s not over till it’s over

Friends who live nearby who have a house with a small apartment underneath that they rent out as an airbnb place. They’ve had a woman staying with them for a few days. She lived in a rental property up Burra creek, which is an area to the west of Moruya. This area has been under threat or actively burning for a couple of weeks and in some areas, a month. She evacuated for the NYE fires to the campsite at North Head, next to the airport. North Head campground is a campground but also an unofficial semi homeless camp. That makes it sound bad I guess, but it isn’t, it’s just a place for people who’re travellers on a more long term basis I think. 

Unlike other local campsites, North Head allows dogs. This woman has one dog. She has been living in the camp for one month, in a tent, in the heat and wind and smoke. She can’t leave the camp to go into town without packing up everything, including her solar panel, because of theft. Her sister called a week ago (end of Jan) and organised for her to stay for a few days in our friends’ place airbnb. She said she was ‘so grateful’ as she had nowhere to go, and she’d just learned that she’d lost her house and everything in it, almost one month after she evacuated.

The idea of camping in a place, for a month waiting to hear if your house has burned down seemed like a particularly strange type of torture. She said she has possibly found a place to rent in Rosedale and she’s happy about that because it’s been burned all around the house, so she feels safe. Rosedale is completely blackened landscape. It’s hard for me to imagine living amongst ashes but many people actually feel relieved - it’s a comfort to be surrounded by something that won’t burn.  

People are so, so over it.

I talked to a guy on the beach. He said that this friend, who lives in the Deua valley and is in the Valley RFS, is totally fed up with talking about it and dealing with it. When they go for a surf they have an agreed limit on ‘fire talk’. Most people are getting to the same point - for the first few weeks you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing stories, and sometimes I would watch people visibly flinch as they listened to others’ telling their tales. People are only sharing them with each other. There’s nothing to say, no-one can make it any better. It’s like pouring a cup of water into a pond - everyone is at saturation point.

There’s an exhaustion and also a sense of anger how the fire are being seen from the outside. 

Because of the nature of the news cycle people from outside the area are really genuinely thinking that the crisis is over. We’ve all heard about the ‘new normal’ and that’s been cycled around in the media, but that hasn’t sunk in. People can’t even conceptualise being on fire for a couple of weeks, let alone the permanency of climate change taking place over years.

For instance, the Moruya Country Show was scheduled to take place in mid January like it always is, a huge festival of cakes and vegetables all wilting away inside a 45c tin shed. It’s great. The show committee cancelled the show, as it takes place at the show grounds, which was still being used as an evacuation centre in early January. However, they decided to run a ‘community day’ on the day that the show was meant to take place, on about the 3rd weekend in January. As it was, the community day took place just before a fire day, and so everyone was either organising, moving animals, packing things or evacuating. And the showground, where the community day was held, was still being used as an evacuation centre. 

Another example; The ABC’s Q & A show organised to film an episode in Bega, and advertised to get local people to join them on the panel. There was the clear idea that it was all over - I couldn’t imagine anyone having the energy to go on TV and make content for them. It’s all too exhausting for people. I think the media are used to talking to people in the immediate aftermath of a disaster when people have. alot of adrenaline still pumping around, and there are things to do and jobs to get done - the recovery. But the people in the Bega valley especially couldn’t get on with a ‘recovery’ of any kind because there were and are so many active fires in the area that they can’t actually get anything done. For some people they go back and camp on their burned out properties, but they’re experiencing road closures and a lack of power and comms and everything else, because the resst of the region is still on fire. After a month of living like this, these people are exhausted, everyone is exhausted, and it feels quite exploitative to have these shiny bums turn up and ask stupid questions about the impact and recovery when there can’t be any of either yet. 

This was made perfectly clear when the ABC’s Q & A show had to cancel their planned filming in Bega because there were three major fires burning close to Bega. They were worried about losing power, comms and even traveling the crew back to Sydney. The show was filmed in Queanbeyan. 

At work, at the beginning of February, I start receiving emails from our head office based in Sydney that begin with, ‘Hi everyone on the south coast, I hope you’re all recovering well from the fires!’. The email arrived while I checked my phone while we’re spending another two days evacuated. The email included a long list of jobs to be done, all of which required days in the office, which means taking the kid into work because school is cancelled. 

I marvelled at the lack of awareness but then remembered that the media cycle has moved on, and now everyone is talking about #sportsrort and the coronavirus, so those of us with friends who’re losing their homes, this weekend, should remind ourselves that the fires actually finished exactly one calendar week after media first turned up. 

I sat down and tried to compose a thoughtful email explaining how hurtful their sing song ‘hope the recovery is going well’ email was, when we’re all still very much freaking out about the fires on our doorstep. Every draft sounded churlish. I realised I’d spent 45 minutes trying to write a kind, thoughtful email asking people in their air-conditioned offices to please be a little understanding of the situation of those who’re still living in tents with their dogs, coughing awake every morning covered in mosquito bites. And I realised, after I’d finished, that it would be received poorly anyway. No-one likes whingers. 

It made me think about the people on the north coast, the fires that burned through communities in November and December. How much did I know about those people? Those communities? How much attention did I pay to them? I looked at the pictures, like everyone else, and I registered that there were homes, and in some cases, entire settlements lost. I googled ‘Wytaliba’ and marvelled at the remoteness of the community, completely surrounded by bush. That looks just like here, I thought.  

There’s also so much time wasted in the ‘gravitas talk’ where people burble out all the platitudes about how dreadful it all has been on the radio, over and over, as if they have any idea. Today I heard the presenter on ABC South East say that the state government was due to go back today, but they were asking for a week’s prologue because of the fires. And apparently Andrew Constance had put forward a condolence motion, so they could all sit around in their air conditioned debating chamber and hang their heads and offer their beautifully composed condolences, while everyone else on the south coast wonders if they should send their kids to school in this smoke (AQI; Moruya; UNHEALTHY!). The eulogising of an event that hasn’t actually finished yet is insulting. This is the definition of impotent political theatre. 

It’s like the sheer amount of stuff that was sent down to the area following the fires - donations of clothes for people who’ve lost their houses. Where are these people meant to put these clothes? People were sending desperate messages through facebook - ‘There are no babies in Nerrigundah! Please stop sending thousands of nappies!’ It also occurred to me that the swimming pool in Moruya could have given free vouchers for showers, alongside vouchers for the laundromat. Volunteers could have strung up washing lines in the park beside the river. There are many more useful things that could have been done that didn’t involve people sending their oldest pairs of polyester track-pants. One woman I know worked on the distribution centre, and spent her entire day explaining that people who were fighting fires needed cotton or wool clothing, not nylon footy shirts. 

What people need, if anything, are packets of new underpants, toothbrushes, bottled water, loo paper and soap - the same stuff that Australian charities routinely sends other impoverished countries dealing with unnatural disasters. I noticed how many people, including myself, cut their hair. I had hair down to my waist and after spending five minutes hosing dead leaves off a roof on the 4th of January, put it in a rough pony tail and got my daughter to cut it off to ear length. Many other local women did the same - long hair is not conducive to a lack of showers, heat, smoke and breathing masks. 

[las-vegas-princess]

Two hours at Blenheim Palace

Better late, than never. I’m sorry, but my friend and my family kept me really busy. I’m sure I have nothing as great to tell as ‘Joan_0814’ on Twitter, but I still want to give you a quick rundown about my two hours at Blenheim Palace yesterday (July 19, 2017). [Please excuse the ‘far away’ pictures. The zoom in my phone is broken.]

Up until the moment when I entered the bus, it wasn’t sure if I would be able to visit the set. I was in Oxford for the day anyway – totally by chance – but it took almost a fight with my best friend for me to leave her in town and go out to Woodstock. But enough of my semi-dramatic life and on with the show:

I only managed to get to the palace at 4pm, so the majority of stuff was already done. The palace is impressive in itself, but entering the grounds and seeing the set’s base camp is just awesome.

Inside the palace courtyard, I was greeted by vans, tents and a film crew. They were not filming at the front entrance at that moment and not knowing my way around at all or where to look for them, I used the time to actually take a look at the grounds and the palace. I paid for the entrance after all, and if I wasn’t lucky enough to see any of the cast, at least I spent my time and money checking out the place where they play house. The gardens and grounds are super pretty and extensive and you can imagine Alex & Tom running around, not to be found again.

In between visiting the gardens and the palace, I went to the toilet somewhere down in the basement, where they reserved one room for the make-up team. Shooting on location is never romantic and always complicated, so the basement it is for them.

In the palace, I was held back for what felt like ages, because the place was pretty deserted and the employees all wanted to tell me stuff about it. After a while I was able to get away and left through the chapel.

The moment I stepped out, Tom was standing in front of me under the alcove that lead to the chapel - all alone, looking for something. He was dressed in his bodyguard uniform and boy, that guy is something else. Taller than I imagined, but I’m rather short, so what do I know?! What stunned me the most, where his facial features. I mean, we all know that he is handsome, but that jaw and his cheekbones were carved by Michelangelo himself – I’m sure of it! For whatever reason, I wanted to get out of his way quickly. He seemed very concentrated and determined to go somewhere – without knowing where that ‘somewhere’ was. So, I walked past him, when he decided to change directions and bumped into me. We both said nothing and went on our ways. I was totally stunned, sent out a tweet and watched him walk away. I usually don’t run after stars – I always feel really bad bothering them (or anyone for that matter) – but when I saw two girls following him, I felt less ‘stalkery’ and went after them. Tom went to the catering truck and met up with Sarah Armstrong who was getting something to drink. The two girls, who turned out to be Twitter’s Joan_0814 and her friend, asked Tom for a picture and Jo got one. Sarah was waiting next to us during it and Toby Sandeman arrived while the picture was taken. Tom and Sarah left to get back to set and the three of us went after them.

We had to wait for a bit down the side, because they were setting something up for a scene. Roughly 80 extras in casual, every day clothes were brought into the courtyard. They had to stand in a throng and just wait. In the end, they had to wait for an hour in the cold wind before their scene was canceled for that day.

While we had to wait, Max Brown was walking past us, done for the day.When we were allowed to cross again, we saw Mark Schwahn on the other side. Jo and her friend waited for him to have time for a picture, I kept my eye on the set.

After a few minutes, they set up for rehearsal. Alex, Tom, Sarah & Toby were in the scene. They rehearsed it once, Mark gave his instructions and then the actual waiting period began, while they set up the scene. I worked on set before, but nothing this upscale. I quickly realized that “High End” TV Drama is just a synonym for “everything takes AGES!!” I had a bus to catch, but wanted to stay for the first take at least. I did manage to and had to run afterwards, but it was still worth it. In the end, it was just me there, with the few visitors to the palace who couldn’t have cared less and went on to visit the gardens.

I don’t want to post what they were shooting here in case of spoilers (even if hardly anything there did would be considred a spoiler and it was a very short scene anyway). But if you want to know what happened, just drop me a message and I will let you know. The girls on Twitter and I were wondering when the scene would take place and today I did remember that I saw a slate, that said “Episode 3, Scene II”. But that could have been from the scene they shot before, so don’t quote me on this.

Finally, my thoughts about the cast - from what little I saw of them:

1. Tom (because he was the first one I saw, the one I saw the longest and because he is Tom): Like I said, he is really handsome (he gets better looking with each season / with age) but also very brooding and concentrated. Might have been preparation for the scene, might be his persona. In the picture Alex took with him in front of the door, he is smiling (of some sort) but that really was the only time he did do anything close to moving his features. But I’m sure it was a long and taxing day for him, so I can’t fault him. I never smile either, so at least I’m in good company.

2. Alex: I only saw her from far away, so nothing I can really say about her. They were all really concentrating on the scene, just like we want them to, so no jumping around or being playful. They had been at it for 10 hours at the point already, so again, we would all just want it to be over with as well.

3. Sarah: Pretty girl – they all are. She was talking to Tom or Toby the majority of the time and was patiently waiting for Tom when he took the picture.

4. Toby: He was the most active one. Joking around, having fun and didn’t seem bothered that they still had a long evening ahead of them.

5. Max: Only saw him for a moment, but he seemed really nice, really handsome and glad to be able to go home. I might not like Robert at all, but we need a villain in the show and its good that he is being played by someone who is actually a great guy to be around.

6. Mark: He seemed nice as well. Really took some time to take multiple pictures with Jo and her friend.

Okay, that is all I can think of right now. It might have not been the most exciting day on set, but I’m just so happy that I got to go there and see the cast once. Never thought that it would actually happen during my time here in England.

But now I’m super pumped and once I’m rested enough tomorrow morning, I will get back to my Jasper fanfiction that I promised last week. Things got in the way, scene were added in my mind, but I will push it out quickly.

[eviivescent]

Newtown Tragedy Sociology Paper

My full Sociology Paper on the Newtown Tragedy located below the read more. TW.

The Evil Behind The Newtown Tragedy

It was a cloudy morning in Newtown, Connecticut, as the young students of the Sandy Hook Elementary school gathered for class. However, “evil” was brewing as Adam Lanza, a 20 year old male, prepared for a day that would split the nation on what some would view as a simple topic. 9:41 am, Connecticut State 911 receives a call from Sandy Hook elementary stating that “multiple students were trapped in a classroom, possibly with a gunman” according to a source from the State Police. However, it wasn’t until emergency crews arrived that the sheer magnitude of the situation could be assessed. Adam Lanza, strapped up with a bullet proof vest, had “forced” his way into the school armed with two semi-automatic handguns - a Glock and a Sig Sauer - and a semi-automatic rifle. He proceeded to shoot and kill 26 people before killing himself. But the killing had not just happened at the school, Adam had shot his mother multiple times before taking her guns and leaving to shoot up the school that his mother had taught at; leaving the total dead at 27, 28 if you include Adam himself.

The nation was shocked. “Evil visited this community today,” Dan Malloy, Connecticut’s Democratic Governor, said at a news conference that evening. In fact, in the weeks following, “Evil” seemed to be largely at blame for this event. A writer at The American Spectator, a small conservative news magazine, went as far as saying that, “No… law can ever abolish evil. Indeed, evil can rise anywhere at anytime.” But what is this “evil” they speak of? Evil is defined by Merriam-Webster as “Profoundly immoral and malevolent” and by that definition, I guess you could say that Adam was evil. But do you not think that by classifying someone as evil, we dehumanize them and forget that anyone is capable of such things? Adam Lanza was a 20 year old male, only a year younger than myself. He was believed to suffer from some severe mental health disorders of which I can also relate. I do not see this idea of evil that everyone else sees. I see a young man who had been ostracized by his peers. A man who lashed out of his sub-social existence in order to make himself known. In sociology, this form of feeling detached from the dominate culture, of feeling isolated from society, an inability to comply to the social norms is called anomie and anomie can often result in backlashes from an individual. One is more likely to harm someone that they feel no relation to.

Liberals will have you believe that it is all the fault of the guns and conservatives are quick to blame video games or mental health but could it actually just be our fault? A columnist for the Economist, a large political magazine, wrote in a story titled Fake Tears that, “Those of us who view the events remotely… unless we start to evince a newfound appetite for gun-control measures to prevent future mass slayings, are doing little more than displaying and enjoying our own exalted strickenness. This is an activity at which we, as a culture, excel.” The columnist is basically saying that, as a culture, we do not actually care. We pretend to, sure, but a few weeks down the road it will all just be a sad memory. We can pat ourselves on the back because we mourned for the loss but nothing will have changed and another terrible act as such will probably just happen again. But wait, do not the same type of events already happen as a day to day worry?

What does it say about our nation when we grieve the loss of 20 young kids in a neighborhood that is predominantly suburban raised and white and yet when shootings and murders happen in inner city areas where most residents are either minority or poor, or both, we just shrug it off and say, “oh, well that is just the way it is”? Why does our culture view it as deviant to happen in “suburbia” but not in “inner city”? I am using the term “Deviant” in regards to social deviance, which, in sociological context, is used when describing actions or behaviours that violate cultural norms including that of formally-enacted rules. So why is it a cultural norm for shootings to happen in poor and/or minority predominant areas and yet when it happens in suburbia, we all freak out? Are we still so set in these ideas of poor and minority stereotypes that we focus on an ideal based in prejudice (defined as the holding of unfounded ideas about a group, ideas that are resistant to change as opposed to discrimination which focuses on the specific treatment of people based on differences) in which they are just more violent so it is not a tragedy when it happens in their neighborhoods? I ask these questions because I do not know the answers. As this nation’s youth, I feel inclined to ask the more knowledgeable members of my society to answer such questions and if you have not the answers then go ahead and ask the questions yourself.

We have become a nation in which half of us value our guns more than our children and the other half is too focused on being nice to do anything about it. Not long after the fuss of the shooting died down, an “independant truth seeker” (read as conspiracy theorist) posted an article and short film on how the Sandy Hook shooting was a hoax. He made a claim with his article that Sandy Hook was a plot by the government in order to push a gun control agenda in order to further control our citizens. I do not even feel the need to dispute such a claim and yet the internet and the youth of our nation were so ready to fall in line with this claim in order to protect our guns. But every once and awhile, we do get those gems in the rough.

A small solo journalist, who goes by the internet tag of justanothercommie, pointed out that, “Groups like the National Rifle Association and others will occasionally recognize the problem for what it really is – that dangerous weapons can too easily fall into the hands of the mentally unstable,” which is finally something we should be talking about. He goes on to point out that, “however they offer no solutions as a rational one would compromise their own position and standing among their supporters.  Rather, they aggressively fight any gun legislation which is not congruent with their interpretation of the Second Amendment.” Just like the situation I had mentioned above, groups like this frequently resort to the tactics of Reductio ad Hitlerum, in which they paint their opponent as a tyrant bent on destroying civil liberties as we know them. And it seems ironic to me that one of the groups (the NRA) that are more representative of the “Powers that be” are pulling a stance that resembles the conflict perspective, a theory in sociology that emphasize the social, political or material inequality of a social group, which in this case is gun owners/”true americans”.

So tell me, in this society that values human life and emphasizes equality, are either of those actually the case? Or are we just too busy pretending to care in order to climb the ladder even just one more rung to a sense of narcissistic ego boosts? We blame the gun or the man, the mental health status or video games, we are even willing to blame such a vague concept of “evil.” But could it really just be our fault? Our politicians bicker about our “right to bare arms” and yet we cannot even assist our “lesser” citizens in achieving a decent standard of living. What about their rights as human beings? Their rights to not starve? What about Adam’s right to get help with his mental health?

We can point fingers and pass the blame until we turn blue in the face but when you remove all the political rhetoric, all that is left is the facts. Adam Lanza was a 20 year old white young male with asperger’s syndrome. He was recorded to be socially withdrawn (as is a normality when one suffers from aspergers) and to be incredibly intelligent. He had a broken home and yet what appeared to be a caring family. He is recorded to have felt isolated from everyone and “alone.” On December 14th, he snapped. With access to his mothers legally owned guns, he was able to gun down 27 victims and then himself. I do not see evil, I just see questions. So I ask you, who’s fault is it? Who really killed those 28 victims on December 14th, 2012?

[biofunmy]

The Work Diary of an Audio Erotica C.E.O.

Gina Gutierrez gets a lot of blank stares when explaining her start-up to people: It’s called Dipsea, and it sells subscriptions to immersive, short-form audio erotica. Venture capitalists, though, get it. They want to capitalize on dual booms in digital audio and sexual wellness, and some view Dipsea as the next Calm or Headspace. The start-up has raised $5.5 million in funding.

Ms. Gutierrez, 29, and her co-founder, Faye Keegan, created Dipsea when they realized that while there were plenty of companies offering tech-enabled vibrators, no one seemed to be addressing the mental aspect of female sexuality. In December 2018, Dipsea began publishing erotica podcasts, saying, “We think it’s downright powerful for people to discover the most turned-on versions of themselves.” The company charges subscribers $9 a month or $48 a year for access to a library of 10- to 15-minute stories in categories like “open relationship,” “hookup,” “crush” and “voyeurism.” Dipsea’s app also offers guides and exercises that can be done alone (“self love sesh”) or with a partner (“erotic meditation”).

Now the company, based in San Francisco, has 16 employees, 180 stories and 300,000 downloads. Ms. Gutierrez boomerangs between “I’ve never done this before” moments, she said, while juggling investor meetings, podcast appearances, script edits, Instagram caption-writing sessions and “Sacred Planning” meetings. She also has to deal with borderline puritanical rules from the big tech platforms while brainstorming about hunks, discerning what a hug sounds like, and puzzling over why people are so into stories about threesomes.

Monday

6:30 a.m. I hate the notion that the most successful people are up at 4:30. No thanks. I work on the couch for an hour before heading into the office.

9:35 a.m. My adrenaline surges when our social media and content manager, who started less than two weeks ago, Slacks me to say she has an urgent personal update. That’s never good.

She tells me she’s accepted another role. I’m shocked. We care so much about Dipsea being a great place to work, and have had zero attrition. So, 35 minutes into my workweek I’m dealing with my first “I’ve never done this before.”

The idea of kicking up the hiring process again so quickly after we’ve ended it makes my head spin. I spend the morning figuring out the transition plan. I really don’t want to go back to writing Instagram captions in the back of Lyfts between meetings.

2:30 p.m. I owe my editing team the final signoff on this week’s scripts before they pass them to the producers for recording. A section of dialogue on this one reminds me of a part from “A Star Is Born.” I send the movie scene to the team as an awesome example of realistic dialogue.

4 p.m. I hole up in a room with Faye and two other executives to brainstorm. We block 30 minutes per idea, throw out thoughts, sketch out designs, argue trade-offs. One idea we come up with is so good, I stand up to dance.

6:45 p.m. I debate bailing on plans to see “Hustlers” with some colleagues because I’m so behind. But I go. It’s an important piece of content for women right now, for God’s sake! I’m back at my computer on the couch by 9:45.

11 p.m. Quick Slack to Faye about a lead for the social media manager role before I shut my computer. I’m tired. When’s the last time I had a sip of water? Did I eat lunch today?

Tuesday

10 a.m. I talk with our audio production team about an article on aftercare, which is essentially affection and communication after sex. It’s the default in the BDSM community, but a good ideal to aspire to in all sexual encounters. We talk about not ending our stories too abruptly.

11 a.m. We have a monthly meeting called “Postpartum” where we discuss what we learned from our last month of stories and how people reacted. Most of our narratives are crafted so a female listener can identify with the woman, but one of our recent stories is about three men at a gay club, and we discuss whether listeners identify with one character, or if they’re more of a voyeur, excited to have eyes into the whole relational dynamic.

1:15 p.m. Over tacos I get book recommendations for my upcoming vacation — the first real one I’ve taken since starting Dipsea — from our content editor and writer. The whole team is voracious. Books lie in stacks around the office, especially Dipsea-relevant reads like “Conversations With Friends,” and “A Billion Wicked Thoughts.”

2:50 p.m. A construction company works in our building and I chat with one of the workers in the elevator. The contrast between their mostly male, neon-vest-wearing crew with our almost all-female team of erotic content creators is funny, but we’re strangely symbiotic.

Wednesday

9 a.m. I get coffee with an investor that we’ve been talking to since our seed round. Meetings like this are a mutual way to keep the relationship warm even when we’re not actively raising.

10 a.m. At the office, Mel Scott, our head of growth, tells me she’s spoken to a few podcast hosts who are going to run our ads. This is exciting. Facebook makes it very challenging for us to advertise as a sexual wellness business, and it’s frustrating. Sometimes our ads perform really well; other times we discover something was disconnected. Ads that were approved mysteriously get disapproved, and we’re left guessing why.

10:05 a.m. Faye and I have a weekly one-on-one meeting we call “Sacred Planning” to remind ourselves never to book another meeting over it.

11 a.m. The founders of an A.S.M.R. app visit our office to learn about how we create our content. I’m curious to learn about their work, too. One of them says the most polarizing A.S.M.R. sound is “mouth sounds.” I tell him mouth sounds can be tough for Dipsea listeners, too.

2 p.m. Our editorial team presents a plan for a new process of developing scripts. No one has ever made exactly what we’re making, so it’s a constant learning game with no instruction manual.

3 p.m. I sit in on a “Hooked on Sonics” meeting, where our storytelling lead and one of our producers talk to the rest of the team. This one covers what feelings sound like: A hug being akin to the sonic experience of going underwater, or anxiety as a high-pitched ring.

6:30 p.m. The entire company goes to a breath-work class at Chorus Meditation. You breathe in a fast, rhythmic way that oxygenates your brain, activating your parasympathetic nervous system and relaxing you. The crazy part is, it can also have effects like tingling, visual experiences or semi-lucid dreams.

I wake up in a jolt, even though I feel mentally present: An hour has passed and it felt like 20 minutes. My body feels amazing, slow and quiet. We all eye each other, while the instructor wraps up, mouthing, “Cool, right?”

10:25 p.m. Faye texts me asking to borrow a shirt. I wonder how many other co-founders sign off with a “Night love you.”

Thursday

10 a.m. All-hands meeting. As our analyst presents which story tags performed the best, the team debates the underlying reasons. We know stories tagged as “group” or “threesome” are highly rated, but we don’t necessarily know why. The novelty? The explicitness? What are the creative differences between “crush” and “hookup” stories? They seem to overlap a lot, so what makes one more successful than the other?

1:45 p.m. I take a call with an investor who’s been persistent. He describes Dipsea as part of the “N.S.F.W. space,” which tells me I have to take a step back and explain our perspective on sexuality: We’re not interested in creating an erotic utility, we’re interested in empowering women with content designed for their pleasure. To his credit, he understands the difference.

4 p.m. “Hunks Brainstorm” session. The editorial team discusses stereotypes about attractive men that still feel relevant, or that we can modernize. A college athlete isn’t necessarily interesting without some other underlying reason. (Ah! Maybe they’re fed up with the extortive system they’re a part of and lean on a female confidante. She sees his depth in a way that her peers don’t get to. Write that down!)

We talk about the way that passionate people are attractive, and especially so if they’re a bit unattainable because of their focus.

Every “Fireman!” is met with an, “O.K., but why?”

5 p.m. I join Faye and Mel to figure out how to meet our greater goals for the quarter. Five hundred Post-its and two hours later, we take a step back to admire our work.

Friday

12 p.m. I meet with Mel to review the past week: how we spent marketing dollars, where it’s working best, trends we’re not sure what to do with yet. There’s one international market that’s going gangbusters.

12:45 p.m. We always order in and eat Friday lunch together.

5 p.m. I find a quiet booth for an interview with Tristan Taormino, host of the podcast Sex Out Loud, which I just found out is airing live. The host, a sex educator who really knows her stuff, gives us advice on creating content for older listeners, shares her favorite story (“Virgo Season”), and asks how I deal with running a women-focused company while also navigating the world of venture capital. I say it took me some time to realize I was more than one thing in different contexts, and that that’s O.K.

6:50 p.m. I find myself alone at Bamboo Hut, a tiki bar, with a blue salt rim mai tai in front of me. I’m evaluating whether this bar will fit our loose holiday party theme of “dive bar fancy.” The bartender tells me that yes, the lamps over the bar are real taxidermied puffer fish.

7 p.m. A friend texts, “‘Blue Salt Rim’ should be the name of a Dipsea story!” It’s a joke I probably hear once or twice a week but still haven’t gotten tired of.

Interviews are conducted by email, text and phone, then condensed and edited.

Sahred From Source link Business

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