#-‘b-b-but technically they’re over hundreds of years old!!’

[kay-selfships]

thoughts every time i see some rando being weird about the chibi characters

[malewifegradyruewen]

Elven Wedding Headcanons

i realised that we have no clue what weddings in the lost cities look like so...yeah. this post is more of the technical details, while my next post will focus more on the celebrations of the wedding.

okay so

we know a bunch about the matchmaking process

but not too much about what happens after you get your lists

obviously there’s winnowing galas

that’s it though

also i have no clue what a bad match wedding would look like

obviously everyone’s got a birth fund

but they’re usually smaller weddings i think

so anyways

the general rule of thumb is you date for at least a year before you get engaged

and often couples choose to date longer

they are immortal after all

the proposal can be done by either party

it does tend to be the males quite often

but there’s no tradition or rule or anything saying the male must do it

this is assuming of course that it is a m/f relationship

but i digress

it is also common to inform the parents before proposing

but not a requirement and it most certainly is not asking permission

let’s be real

sometimes elves are hundreds of years old when they get married

they don’t need their parents permission

it’s simply a courtesy

so once they’re engaged

they go back to the matchmakers

in order to take their names out of circulation for the match lists

although there is a separate office for those who are not registering/picking up lists/etc. 

this separate office handles removing names from list circulation, wedding certificates, and match fails

you also go back if your engagement breaks off to put your name back in circulation

again, couples are usually engaged for over a year

if you have a lifetime to plan a wedding why not use it?

but most couples also try to do it fairly soon

a) in order to have children

b) for legal purposes (like next of kin)

c) who would want a wedding hanging over their head for years?

so it’s usually a few years of being engaged

and then the actual wedding

they have a ceremony and reception of course

and there’s also the filing of the marriage certificate

the matchmaking office also handles the legal name changes

and if you need to register a new family crest

it’s a great matchmaking office

they take care of everything

anyways

it usually takes a few days for the certificate to go through so they advise couples to go five days before the wedding to have it on the day of

and that’s that

at least for the technical stuff

[paisley-print]

Near The Water’s Edge:  Chapter One

After fleeing your abusive husband, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you 're forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.

Inspired by the novel “Safe Haven” written by Nicolas Sparks. 

Frankie Morales x Female Reader 

Rating: 18+ / Heavy adult themes eventual smut.

Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Drowning, Dark Water. 

Word Count: 1744

Note: I tagged everyone who liked the original posts. To stay on the permanent list please either send me a message or write it on the post. Enjoy <3 

Series Master List

Chapter One 

Aggressively American, that was the only fitting description of the place you found yourself in. July was a coastal town located in the southern part of North Carolina. It was pronounced like ‘Julie’ but nobody ever called it that. It had been the farthest place your two hundred dollars in cash could take you; and as the greyhound pulled away, you wondered if you should have chosen Nebraska instead. 

It wasn’t that the town was dirty, quite the opposite actually...it just felt manufactured. Too perfect to be real. The streets were named things like Liberty and Independence. The shop fronts were brick and all along the main street there were American flags and flower pots holding red, white and blue geraniums.

The name Norman Rockwell came to mind. 

As you walked along the main street, you surveyed the many shopfronts. To a passerby it seemed as though you were looking to buy something - in your mind, however, your thoughts were racing.

‘I made a mistake, I know I did.’ You analyzed the last few hours, replaying the memories over and over again as if on VHS; scrutinizing every last detail. ‘He would track me down, find me - by morning. Should I go back? No- it was too late for that.’

It was still early in the afternoon, but finding a place to sleep tonight was paramount. The trip had taken eleven hours straight through. Only ever stopping to change buses and refuel - you were exhausted and your muscles ached. 

‘Food,’ you thought ‘I should eat…’ 

But did you have enough? Depending on how much a motel cost around here, you figured you would only have enough to cover a room for one night. So food would have to wait. 

As you rounded a corner, you were met with the sight of the bay. It wasn’t anything like the brown water in New Jersey, the water here was a deep green. The boats created little swells along the surface, and the sun’s glint off the peaks made it look like the water was filled with emeralds. 

On the left side of the street stood a marina and dockside restaurant. The smell of food made your stomach grumble. On the right side was a series of Victorian style houses, stone pillars and large porches dominated the structures. 

A sign in front of one had caught your attention: American Dreams B&B.

‘Jesus’ you thought ‘they’re really leaning into this whole aesthetic aren’t they?’

A bell on the front door chimed as you entered. The decor of the place looked dated; as if it hadn’t been touched since the 80s. Lots of wood tones and floral patterns. You didn’t mind it though…. it made you feel at home. 

An older woman was sitting at the front desk watching a soap opera on a little TV perched on the counter. She looked up and smiled as you approached. 

“Hello there. How can I help you today?”

“Do you have any rooms open?”

“Sure do, we have three vacancies right now.”

Relief washed over you, “what’s the nightly rate for the smallest?”

“That would be the pink room at $175 a night.”

More than you had anticipated…. “All take it, thank you.”

The woman turned to the computer. The monitor was old and heavy- it looked bigger than the TV. “Driver’s license?”

You hadn’t even thought of that… “I don’t have one, would a birth certificate work?” 

You cringed at the sound of it. Who carries around a birth certificate as identification? It was all you had, so you gave it to her, however you knew that the odd request made you stick out in the woman’s mind. Surely she would remember you if someone came asking…

The woman hesitated but took the certificate, reading it out loud “Summer Emma Sparks.”

You swallowed hard and shifted on your feet, feeling sick. The circumstances surrounding how you secured the certificate flooding your mind...

‘I needed it,’ you remind yourself.

The woman, whose name you found out to be Mae, handed you a key and sent you on your way. Now the plan would be to look for a job, something that worked off of tips. Having as much cash available to take with you at a moment’s notice was important. First, though, you would sleep. 

And as the tide lapped against the boat dock across the street, you slipped into the darkest, soundest slumber you had in years. You were safe for the time being. 

-

There was something to be said about the little joys surrounding small town life. In New Jersey neighbors barely knew each other, and would even go so far as to avert their eyes or turn their backs when passing them on the street. Here though, people were kind. 

Too kind sometimes, always pressing you with questions...you couldn’t fault them for it though. If you were here under normal circumstances, you would have welcomed such friendly chatter. It almost pained you to be so dismissive, but you needed to be, for your safety and theirs. The less anybody knows about you, the better. 

You set down a tray of empty cups and looked at the clock on the wall, debating whether to take another table. Even though your shift technically didn’t end for another twenty minutes, most of the night servers were already here and the day had been long.

You managed to get a job at the restaurant next to the marina on your second day in town. The owner suggested you start the following weekend, but you persuaded him to let you train that day just so you could get the free meal that they provided with every shift. The tips weren’t enough to buy a hotel room though, and so you had to sleep on the beach that night.

Thankfully, the tips for the last few days had been good, allowing you to buy a week in the bed-and-breakfast. Most of the servers at the restaurant were teenagers who could only work the evenings, allowing you to take as many morning and afternoon shifts as you wanted. Sometimes there would be another server with you, but most days you were alone. You didn’t mind one bit, the dining room was small and easy for you to handle by yourself. 

You had your eye on a few rental properties on the far side of town. A mobile home community offering one bedroom complexes for dirt cheap prices. You were suspicious at first, but after taking a walk through the neighborhood you realized most of the people who lived there were snowbirds or weekend warriors. 

Those residents who did live their full time seemed like you, friendly people who had fallen on bad times. They weren’t the confederate flag wielding, dip spitting, rednecks you first thought they would be; and for that you were thankful. 

“Summer….. Summer.” 

You turned suddenly, remembering that was your name. “Yeah?”

Your boss was holding two containers of soup “do me a favor and put these in the fridge before you go?”

“Of course,” you said, allowing him to pass the containers off to you. 

The fridge was a separate unit out back; it looked like a little shed. From where you were, you could see a full view of the marina. It was set a little farther back than the restaurant. To the left, lines of boats bobbed up and down with the tide. There was a parking lot next to that, then at the very end was a house... or what you assumed was a house. 

Elevated about six feet on stilts and spanning two stories high. It wasn’t anything like the grand Victorians that stood opposite of it. It was unassuming, modern and clean. Your eyes fixed on movement off to the side. Below the house to the right, you noticed a little girl. She had to be no more than three years of age, reaching for something over the bulkhead. A feeling of dread clutched at your stomach. 

‘She’s going to fall’ you thought suddenly. 

Both containers of soup hit the ground and exploded - painting the side of the building. You didn’t even notice as you sprinted down the shelled driveway towards the house. The splash came as soon as you threw open the gate and without even a moment of hesitation; you jumped into the water. 

It was freezing, like little needles pricking your skin from all sides. The salt water stung your eyes like something wicked, but you forced yourself to keep them open. You scanned what was around you, murky green darkness and foliage that reached up from the sand like the tendrils of a kraken. Threatening to grab you and pull you down into its watery depths. 

Your eyes landed on a flash of pink below. With all of your strength you pushed yourself forward, hooking an arm around the girl and bringing you both to the surface. Just as you broke through the world above, you saw a man skid to a stop and reach for the girl in your arms. 

You gasped, and the little girl coughed and hiccuped... then started to cry. It was music to your ears; it meant that she was breathing. You held the girl up as far as possible; the man took her and moved away from the bulkhead. 

“Make sure she’s okay,” you choked, the water assaulting your senses. You tread for a moment longer before the man reappeared and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you from the water easily. 

Bracing yourself on the bulkhead you brought your weight over the rest of the way. The man immediately turned his attention back to the little girl, bringing her to his chest and clutching her as she wailed. 

You blinked, hands coming up to rub the salt from your eyes, the world coming back into focus. The man was older, wearing a navy blue baseball cap and a grey flannel. 

His brown eyes still held a spark of panic in them as he looked at you. “I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough….she was right there, then I turned around and….” He held onto her a little tighter and sighed, closing his eyes. The little girl was settling into a mess of sniffles and whimpers. “Don’t ever do that again, baby,” he breathed. 

-

-

-

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@hnt-escape 

[goldencuffs]

persuasion

@lamenweek day six: auguste lives au

It’s four-thirty on a Wednesday, and Damen is exhausted, worn down and irritated over the fact that he’s still stuck in the gym storage room, sorting through eight boxes of equipment.

The year seven kid in here with him, Peter, is slow and mullish: he’s only here because Huet gave him detention for not doing his homework for the third week in a a row.

Damen is here because his entire faculty is incompetent. These boxes were supposed to be unpacked a month ago, at the start of the term, but after Kallias walked out, things have been… hectic, to say the least.

In the stifling heat, Peter’s odour is unpleasant, because he’s thirteen, and thirteen year old boys reek.

Damen is seriously considering telling him to leave, but the extra pair of hands, no matter how small and slow, are still better than nothing.

Then, Damen hears the squeak of trainers across the shiny linoleum floor, and a tall, slim figure leans against the doorway, arms crossed.

Damen bites back a sigh, his irritation spiking.

Laurent says, “Hey you, fuck off.”

Peter balks. “Me?”

Damen has his back turned, but in the ensuing silence, he knows that Laurent is staring the poor kid down, unwilling to repeat himself.

“Mr Vallis…” Peter starts, voice high and whiny.

This time Damen sighs loudly. “It’s fine, Peter. You can go home.”

Peter does so, without a goodbye, and when the gym doors close once more, Laurent says, “Damen, I need to talk to you.”

Damen turns around, mirroring Laurent’s pose. “Laurent, I’ve told you a hundred times not to call me by name at school. It’s Mr Vallis to you inside these gates. Always.”

Laurent rolls his eyes. Everything about him, as usual, is immaculate. There isn’t a single hair out of place, he’s still wearing his blazer, and unlike the most boys in this school, he hasn’t loosened his tie or unbuttoned his shirt to wave off the heat.

The only indication that he isn’t a weird, strange robot is the pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Unless you’re planning on help me with this, I need you to fuck off too,” Damen says, ready to turn back around.

“Actually, Mr Vallis,” Laurent straightens, and Damen doesn’t miss the inflection in his name, “I need a favour.”

Damen unpacks the third box, almost bursting into tears when he sees they’re nets. Nets always go on the top shelf. His back is going to break by the end of it.

“What is it?” He belatedly asks, realising Laurent is watching him.

Laurent presses his tongue to his top lip. “I know there’s a spot open on the wrestling team, and it would look really good on my uni applications if I wrote that I’m—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Revere. I already told you before the holidays that if your grades don’t improve—”

“They have! I managed to get a B in Ancient History—"

“You need a B average, not just in one subject. I’ve already checked, and you’re barely scraping a C.”

Laurent makes an indignant scoff. “Yes, but it would be a B average if Auguste helped me out with Chemistry—which is the only subject I’m failing, by the way. And he doesn’t help me at all—what’s the point of him being the best Chem teacher at this school if he won’t put me in his class!”

Damen runs a hand over his face. “You know you can’t have your brother teaching you—it’s against school policy.”

“Fine, whatever,” Laurent shrugs. “But, I swear I’ve been trying Dam—Mr Vallis. Can’t you make an exception for me?”

“Absolutely not,” Damen snorts.

“Ugh! What’s the point of knowing teachers if they don’t help you out when you need it?”

Damen shrugs. “Tough luck, kid. If I gave you the spot, it might keep someone who actually deserves it from joining.”

“I deserve it.”

Damen rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Laurent adopts a haughty look, head held high. “I’ll tell your boyfriend Auguste that you’re being a dick—”

“We’ve been over this Laurent; I’m not dating your brother.”

“Hmm, could have fooled me,” Laurent mutters in a dangerous undertone. “All that touching and cuddling and inside jokes—”

Damen knows that he shouldn’t rise to bait presented to him by a belligerent eighteen year old, but he’s tired, and it’s been a long, long day so he snaps, “Yeah, that’s what friends do, you little shit. Not that you would know what it’s like to have one.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it: Damen is the adult here (the proper one) and more importantly, he’s Laurent’s teacher. A professional.

Laurent’s face falls, and genuine hurt settles into his eyes.

The corners of his mouth droop, and his voice shakes as he says, “You’re such an asshole.”

Damen sighs, “Laurent—”

“Fuck you, Damen,” Laurent says, and turns on his heel in one smooth, elegant move.

*

Two weeks later, Auguste holds one last barbeque party to mourn the end of summer.

It’s not a crowded party: just four other teachers from school, two of Auguste’s uni friends, and of course, bloody Laurent.

He hasn’t said a single word to Damen all afternoon, the rude shit. Not that Damen expects anything less from the most prickly person he knows.

Laurent normally doesn’t even hang out with them, but since he turned eighteen over the winter, Auguste has been trying to include him in their gatherings a lot more.

It’s still a bit surreal to see Laurent easily holding down conversations with men twice his age, a beer bottle pressed to his mouth.

(That part is not so surprising. Damen caught Laurent guzzling an entire bottle of wine when he was sixteen, in this very kitchen).

Orlant touches Laurent’s knee, and says something that makes him laugh raucously.

Damen stands from the couch and makes his way over.

“Hey,” he says, “I think your brother’s calling you.”

Laurent frowns, eyes drifting over to the alfresco, where Auguste is belting Wannabe by Spice Girls and ignoring the grill, Lazar attempting to beatbox along with the words.

God, the steaks are going to burn.

“I don’t think so,” Laurent says.

When Damen doesn’t leave, Orlant says, “You good, man?”

Damen doesn’t bother to reply. He frowns at Laurent. “You’ve been drinking non stop since you got here.”

Laurent throws him a disgusted look. “You’re not my teacher outside of school hours. Fuck off.”

Orlant raises an eyebrow, looking between them. “You’re his student?”

“Barely,” Laurent mutters. “He just makes us do laps and teaches us abstinence like a pastor from the seventies.”

“The curriculum suggests that I—”

“And he won’t put me on his wrestling team because of a small technicality.”

“It’s not a small—”

“You should let him on the team, man,” Orlant says, smiling at Laurent.

Laurent smiles back, eyelashes fluttering.

Damen frowns again.

“Thank you,” Laurent says to Orlant. “I wish you were the coach. Nikandros spent all summer helping me perfect my form, and it’s all been for nothing.”

Damen feels his face crack. “Nikandros? Since when have you been hanging out with him?”

Laurent gives him a devious smile. “Oh, I can be very persuasive. He spent the entire time telling me how good I was.” He flutters his lashes at Damen this time. “It’s a shame you won’t be able to see for yourself, Mr Vallis.”

Orlant watches Laurent shamelessly.

Damen grits his teeth, blood rushing to his head, and grips Laurent’s bicep, ignoring his “Hey!”

He drags Laurent to the unoccupied living room, pushing him away in disgust the moment they’re alone. “What the fuck is your problem, Revere?”

“What the fuck is yours?” Laurent snaps, rubbing his bicep. “Have you lost it already? You usually go crazy around midterms.”

“Shut up,” Damen hisses. “What are you playing at? Did you seriously go to Nikandros for wrestling tips?”

Laurent is still rubbing his bicep, the drama queen. “Well, yes. You wouldn’t help me, so I had to look somewhere else for… expertise. And Nikandros was more than willing to help. Eventually.”

Damen can feel a headache coming on. “Nikandros is shit at wrestling.”

Laurent laughs. “Oh my god. You’re acting like a baby.” “And you’re being your usual intolerable self.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Now Laurent looks livid, his eyes flashing with malice.

“You haven’t even tried to get to know me for the last three years. When you told me I had to improve my grades, I studied my ass off. I got a tutor. I even went to fucking summer school. And yeah, I might only have a C average, but I’ve improved in literally everything. I’ve only failed one subject! At least Nikandros was willing to listen to me. You just behave like an ass.”

Damen swallows, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks away, down at the shiny, tiled floor.

He sighs, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

Damen looks at Laurent, at the sun shining down his head. “I said I’m sorry. Perhaps I have been… a little unfair.”

Laurent snorts and presses his mouth together,

“I didn’t realise how hard you’ve been working,” Damen says, appreciative. “I’m proud of you.”

Laurent goes red. He rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “Whatever. You’re still a dick.”

Damen smiles. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence.

Then Damen says, “Okay, give me your speech.”

“My speech, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah,” Damen raises an eyebrow. “Give me whatever speech you gave Nikandros. If it can convince him to teach you to wrestle, it might convince me to give you a shot on the team.”

Laurent stands straight, assessing him for a moment. “Are you sure, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Laurent gives him a smile Damen has never seen before. It unleashes something dark in his eyes.

Damen swallows, his heart suddenly picking up pace.

Laurent saunters towards him, still with that smile. He comes close enough that Damen can see the small smattering of freckles on his nose.

Damen presses his back to the counter. “Laurent…”

Laurent bites his lip. “Everyone thinks you’re the hottest teacher at school, Mr Vallis. I’ve had a crush on you since my first year.”

Damen coughs, startled. “Laurent, what…”

“Do you want me to give my speech or not?”

Damen’s chest heaves with his breaths. He assesses Laurent’s beautiful face, his mind carefully shutting down.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

Laurent’s smile is sweet and shy.

He’s still wearing that smile when he gets down on his knees. His fingers are quick, nimble as they unbuckle Damen’s belt.

The clank of metal is loud, even amongst the drone of the party.

Damen should stop this. He should say something. Laurent is his student. More than that, he’s his best friend’s just-legal little brother. Damen should—

Laurent kisses the tip of his cock through the cloth, dragging his tongue over it, making it damp.

“Fuck, Laurent.”

Laurent pulls back and smiles at him, eyes half-mast. “I managed to convince Nikandros in about three minutes. Do you think you’ll last a bit longer?”

Damen grunts, hips moving in aborted jerks as Laurent slides down his underwear.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Mikaelsons Black History Month

First off, I’m starting by saying that even though it is no longer Black history month it will always be melanin everyday and black people every day. And everything else under the sun, and if you don’t like it then the exit is to your left. Everything you own in the box to the left

Being part of the Mikaelsons is very fickle business and be some bs. Like really, you’re here with supernatural beings who are over 1000 years old. Who have traveled the world, gained endless knowledge, seen a lot of bloodshed, but you know what they haven’t seen? Their token human (black ofc) being ignant for black history month, I mean who even fully celebrates? How does one even celebrate?

Granted, they’re not racist. But with the writing Julie Pleck did she was playing honestly. That was the worst writing I've ever seen since who knows when. Maybe the nine lives of Chloe king or something? But in my originals universe they were probably racist in the beginning to an extent then grew out of it.

Anyways, they never met someone who celebrated until they met you!

Now repeat after me: I’m black y’all, and I’m black y’all. And I’m black and black and black y’all! FYM

Now…. picture this: A moderately quiet day in the Mikaelson household. Kol is minding his business for once, Rebekah is trying to find the perfect pics for her next instagram post, Elijah is enjoying a good read, and Klaus is organizing his art materials. But then here comes you, the human, opening the door and walking right in like you pay bills (none of them do but you get the picture) in the midst of the most deadly people. Walking in and greeting everyone, walking in with the most hotep, Dr. Umar bullshit getup they ever seen. Coming to America headass.

They recognize your footsteps from a mile away, so when you walk into the kitchen and no one really looks up at first it’ll be a sight to see a whole ass pelted lion on your back. The kente cloth hat (no idea the actual name for it, sorry babes), a saber tooth necklace (for my mans T’Challa), and the red stiletto nails with the afro out here banging.

SHEEEEEEEEESH

Once Elijah is done with his page he looks up to greet you, but then stops… Bitch, fuck is you wearing? This was worlds away from the sweats, and skinny jeans you wore on the daily.

“Greetings Y/N you look…. Fashionable.” Mans didn’t know what to say. Did he miss something about your Africna roots? Was there a holiday he hadn’t heard of, doubt it, but what else was there?

“Thank you Elijah.” You fluff out your lion pelt for added effect, if there was ever going to be one time you outdo the Mikaelsons’ especially Elijah in being dramatic with a coat or cloak of somesort, it would be now.

At this point the Kol and Rebekah have already looked up and were confused. Why are you dressed like that?

Kol is the first one to speak up “Darling, Rebekah likes a fashion show more than anyone, but why do you have a lion… on your shoulder.”

Lifting up your large ass shades you supplied an answer: “Black History Month”

They all looked at each other… they didn’t get it. Like they know what it is, but never actually understood how to celebrate and all that nor did they ever actually give it mind. When you saw that they weren’t making a connection, you started phase 1.

“Alexa, you know what to do.”

And there goes their manor playing: NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA I’M ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NIGGA

LMFAOOOOO you got the white people shook. Klaus just dropped one of his expensive ass bottles of art sealants and is vamp speeding to the kitchen to figure out what the hell is going on. Elijah having a mid century crisis on how tf they even found you and deemed you worthy of being in their presence so casually. Kol is having fun in the back, still laughing at your get up. And Rebekah wishes she went to the mall instead, she wanted a girl bestie and got you instead rip

“WHAT IN BLAZES- Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DO- WHAT ARE YOU WEARING! ALEXA STOP THE MUSIC-” And the big bad wolf has arrived. You put your finger to Klaus’ lips which stuns him bc… you’re still HOOOMAN like damn, death wish much? And you look this man, straight in his mit and say “Looks at, look at me” and pause for dramatic affect, “I am the captain now”

Room silent as hell till Kol starts cackling

You’ve made Dr. Umar proud, the ancestors are shining on you once again

With that you lead into a whole speech about the black struggle and black history month, bottom line: REPARATIONS. Because being the only nigga in the Mikaelsons (we don’t claim Marcel) is exhausting, white people shit everyday that you complain about in their faces

TBH at this point they’re indulging you in this escapade.

First victim is Elijah, you ask for his wallet. He gives you a look, I mean he does technically give you what you want and whatever (when y’all dating, refer back to my dating Elijah post), so he ask you why. Reparations sis why, but then you stop yourself. This man gives you his wallet every other day, half the time you not even asking. What could you rob this man of…. Ah. You ask him for the deed of one of his estates in Prague, why? Because you bitches can’t even spell Prague. And under section S line 45 subsection Y it does state that estates are eligible for reparations. Fuck 40 acres and a mule, you got 300 acres, some stallions in the back, a quite possibly haunted mansion, and a heavy dicked (yeah I said it, a sis been trying to reality shift) original who will turn you out by the end of the day and the end of the month…. Wait till women's history month boo

We know his pockets figgity fat, and it would be figgity wack to not get some

Ngl you take Kol with you so he can buy you food. Granted, he knows what you’re doing, but if he’s going to spend money on anything it will be thawed and it will be music. However, one thing leads to another and you’re both at Wal-Mart waiting to find a parking spot. You stole one off a white minivan trying to move in. Not thinking anything of it because who in this small ass Mystic Falls ass, clown ass town really about it? Apparently Karen.

But you know who else what about it? Kol (tbh mans had nothing but time, and he claims you so why tf not.) he out here NY stomping on her and coming at her for badly glued extensions. Cheap ass bitch, ain’t even blend in correctly.

After that Kol and you left with some groceries, a new story to tell, and a chopped cheese.

With Klaus, he frfr wasn’t finna do shit. Being ordered my a human? Lmfao, go find another simp sis. But… once you suggest that his art skills may not be up to par on what you have in mind as a new family room piece for your house he’s all ears. He knows what you’re doing, but… he still wants to prove you wrong. But anyways, you give him a theme… reverse racism. IK y’all, it’s not a thing, but mans has ideas. And he outdoes himself. That and the recreation of the moorish chief bc that man...mmmmm that man was giving.

Ok so Google wanna hoe me, but there was a painting of a black man in a kkk cloak and behind him were white people being hung from a tree. Say what you want, but that photo was fire. If any of you seen it please share it below.

Anyways

Rebekah tbh wants no part in this, but I feel like she’d gave when you ask her to give you all the finest dresses bc it’s an excuse to exhaust Klaus’ money.

Through the month you give the Mikaelsons a run for their money, and maybe sanity. Klaus is in the back trying to research who tf Dr. Umar is and why is he your inspiration

They had to pull you back when the sheriff asked you for your ID. You ask why you needed white man paperwork!

You are pleasing the spirits, what bonnie could never do lmfaooooo. The powers of you enemies aren’t prospering this month nor next month.

You’re not poor this month, anything you poor of is pouring a little more (bars nigga)

LMFAOOOO imaging asking the fam to go to paris, like, they not invited it’s a self trip funded my the Mikaelson Y/N Trust Fund of Public Decency ™

Klaus would be the first one to speak because this man is TIRED, “Love, why do you need a trip to paris? What’s in Paris?”

Knowing better, you look to Kol to answer the question, “I don’t know, Kol, who’s in Paris?” Niggas b. Niggas in paris…. Lemme chill

LMFAOOO enjoy

[alisoncooper]

fuck it. patcap being parents to jemima headcanons:

it all started when pat noticed how jemima seemed quite a lonely kid - she didn’t really hang out with the other plague ghosts, and everyone upstairs was frightened of her, including himself. but that quickly changed when he saw her hiding the kitchen table during the storm that brought down His tree

so he sits with her and tries to distract her from the storm by getting to know her and telling stories he used to tell daley as a kid

when pat suggested including jemima in their group activities, everyone was less than enthusiastic. but after seeing how much it meant to pat, cap put aside his fear of her and rallied the others together

they never actually talked about adopting her - it just Happened and became the natural next step in their relationship and they fell into their roles easily

although cap Struggled to begin with because he’d never been around kids before and it never even occurred to him that he could be father, so he had No Idea what he was doing for the first few weeks

pat comforted him and admitted he felt the same when daley was born - being a first time parent is Hard but you learn as you do. cap felt bolstered by the conversation and thought, “i can’t be the Perfect dad, but i can at least be a Good one.”

pat’s the fun dad and he loves making up stories and games for jemima to play.

she says she’s too old for games, but the twinkle in her eye as they play keeps him making up more

cap is the Firm dad who has to keep both pat and jemima out of trouble, but it warms his heart watching them bond like they do and almost hates spoiling their fun

but when he catches her trying to frighten julian or lady b, he only half-heartedly tells her off because cap finds it funny too

the three of them play twist-it together and usually, cap wins. but the first time he pretended to fall so jemima could win, the smiles on their faces and joyous laughter convinced him to lose every time from then on

jemima actually likes listening to the captain’s war stories, but pat thinks she’s too young for them even though she’s technically hundreds of years older than both of them

sometimes jemima creeps into pat and cap’s bed after a nightmare and secretly loves being cuddled by her dads, especially since she hadn’t been hugged in centuries

pat has alison make scout badges for jemima and has her award them to her by sticking them on the fridge

it’s very rare that cap and pat argue over parenting styles, but when it does happen, jemima ends up diffusing the situation by coming up with a compromise herself

which just makes them love her more because they’re so PROUD of her and how smart she is and isn’t amazing that she’s teaching them and looking after them at the same time they’re doing it for her????

jemima Loves her dads a lot and the first she she said so, they cried

[shirtlesssammy]

15x14: Last Holiday

Then:

March was so long ago

Now:

Sam’s doing research, Dean’s making burgers, Jack is hitting his existential saving the world phase, and the bunker is falling to pieces.

The brothers head to the basement to investigate the failing plumbing. They find the bunker “grid control center thing thingy”. I believe that is the technical term. Dean decides to channel his inner Sam Wesson and turn it off and on again. And it seems to work! 

Good job, Meat Man!

He heads to his bedroom with his victory beer and burger, only to be surprised by a kindly looking woman folding his Scooby-doo underthings. 

They find out the woman is named--well, she’s called Mrs. Butters. She’s a wood nymph. She lives in the bunker and helps the Men of Letters. She cleans, does laundry, cooks, and reinforces mid-century misogynistic stereotypes, you know, the usual. 

The brothers find out that she thinks it’s the year 1958. Dean breaks the news that it’s actually 2020. (From a 1958 perspective, 2020 seems SO FAR in the future. WTF?) Mrs. Butters is confused and horrified. She asks about the Men of Letters she cared for. They’re all dead, Dean informs her. 

“That’s why they didn’t come back,” she responds. It seems that when the Men of Letters never came back from the ceremony, she placed the bunker and herself in standby mode. Mrs. Butters is upset at learning about the passage of time, but instantly jumps into caretaker mode, noting it’s been an age since they’ve had a home cooked meal or celebrated the holidays (she also seems to think that they don’t wash their clothes, but I can’t imagine either Sam OR Dean as anything but mostly clean.)

She then activates her magic to bring the bunker to full power. The monster radar on the map table starts chirping. 

Dean’s super excited about the new development, but Sam is a bit skeptical. Dean assures Sam it’s ok, and if it’s not, they’ll deal with it. They decide to head out on a vamp hunt, but Dean tells Jack (through his door) that they have a guest and she’s making snickerdoodles. 

During Sam and Dean’s Impala broment, Sam wonders if it’s the best idea to have Mrs. Butters in the bunker. Dean doesn’t see the problem. “Ignoring your trauma doesn’t make you healthy,” Sam points out. (F U C K --i am ded) 

Mrs. Butters makes Jack a sandwich. 

Meanwhile, two vamps living the Big Swig life are quickly dispatched by Sam and Dean Winchester. (Note: They were drinking blood from blood bags, not from people. Were they really that bad? What happened to the gray area of hunting, SAM???? I only say this because I think this is highlighting the true evil of the Men of Letters...and Sam and Dean, super excited for their own toys for once, don’t stop to think about their actions.) 

They come home to find the bunker decked out for the Christmas season. (HEARTS to the map table with a giant tree and train set.) Mrs. Butters even made cookies. JOY TO THE WORLD INDEED!

Breakfast in the bunker brings a skeptical Sam, a millennial Jack (I think he’s really a zennial?), and a nightshirt adorned Dean ready for breakfast made by Mrs. Butters. 

(Dean’s nightshirt gag was funny as a cartoon, but less funny as the promos rolled out, and just fell flat during the episode itself.) Mrs. Butters wonders what Jack is, and then hands him a magic smoothie. 

Suddenly the bunker alarm goes off and Dean’s in Ghostbuster mode. “We got one!” Dean exclaims and the brothers head out on a lamia hunt. 

Jack stays behind to drink smoothies and help Mrs. Butters with the dishes. 

Mrs. Butters asks about Jack’s dad, Lucifer, but Jack only tells her about his family --Sam, Dean, Cas, and….Mary. He confesses to killing her. Mrs. Butters’ response is GOLD. She appears to sympathize with Jack. She tells Jack that life gives us second chances, and then offers him another magic smoothie. 

HUNTING AND HOLIDAY MONTAGE ALERT

Later, while drinking another smoothie, Jack finds Mrs. Butters rifling through some files in the library. He then heads to investigate what she was looking at. In the drawers he finds an old file on Mrs. Butters, and a film reel.

The film reel shows a smug Cuthbert Sinclair recounting the recovery of a wood nymph from a Thule (Nazi) laboratory. Our domestic, smiling Mrs. B was responsible for the deaths of at least two hundred Nazi soldiers before she was restrained. Apparently wood nymphs are docile until their home and family are threatened. Cuthbert introduces Mrs. B in the reel: she’s “agreed” to join the Men of Letters for “service and security.” She then proceeds to rip the head off a bound Nazi and offer up tea and cookies. Jack recoils in horror. 

Jack runs to warn Sam, but Mrs. B reveals that Sam is getting ready for a hot date. WITH EILEEN!!! Sam comes out, dressed to the nines in a collared shirt, tie, SWEATER VEST, and nice coat. Good lord, Sam! <3

Mrs. B drops a quick fact on Dean: she fixed his broken TV. Dean’s eyes light up. The DEAN CAVE IS OPERATIONAL! This is sufficient distraction for Dean. 

As Dean runs off, a concerned Jack decides to follow Mrs. B down to the demon dungeon. He confronts her with the film reel evidence. “How did it make you feel?” she asks him, not at all surprised that he’s found her out. She thinks he enjoyed watching the agony on screen, and that he’s a danger to Sam and Dean.

Jack protests that he would never hurt the Winchesters and we get an extremely close up shot of a distraught Mrs. B asking Jack if he thinks they keep him locked up to keep other people safe. (I imagine Mrs. B asking, “Is getting locked up to keep the world safe a normal thing? Asking for a friend.”) She mojo-chucks Jack against a wall! He’s as weak as a puppy and fails to fight back.

She smiles at him. All those smoothies were full of nephilim-depowering goodness, chock full of vitamins, arrowroot, and JAWBONE. She’s going to rid the world of all monsters, starting with the ones in the bunker.

She greets Dean in the kitchen with a fresh grilled cheese sandwich. “You’ll need your strength so we can go kill Jack,” she tells him calmly.

“Damn it,” Dean bursts out when she pulls out the archangel blade. “We had a good thing going but of course you had to go full Nurse Ratched.” He suggests an alternative plan: free Jack and continue their blissful new cohabitation as one big happy family. Cut to a little while later - and Dean winds up locked up alongside Jack.

Mrs. B greets Sam when he gets home and gives him the quick summary: Jack’s controlling Dean’s mind and she has them both trapped so they can be killed. How efficient! Sam plays along enough that I don’t notice in the first viewing that he’s shed his tie and unbuttoned that collar after that date! 

Back in Sam’s room, he calls Dean who is...still trapped in the room with Jack. WITH his phone. I guess Mrs. B doesn’t understand cell phones? Also, Dean didn’t call to give Sam a head’s up so he could enjoy his date. Dean Bean, the support is nice to see. What a hopeless ROMANTIC, though.

The Winchesters have gotta take out Mrs. B, and both admit that they just never quite got around to researching HOW. I mean, there was Christmas and Thanksgiving and BOXING DAY breakfast… Dean tells Sam to start with the console in the boiler room while he and Jack try to escape. 

Jack offers to use his power to escape. When Dean shoots down that plan, Jack proposes that Dean still thinks of him as a monster. Dean uses his words! He hasn’t forgotten what happened to Mary, and he still has some anger, but he’s not going to let Jack die!

Sam stalks Mrs. B through the bunker and when he finds her, he hilariously hides his gun behind his back. And reader, I…. I don’t know. I think that sweater vest is getting to me because I have gone full on Velma with this shot. LOOK AT THAT BIG LUG!

For Velma Heart Eyes Science:

Mrs. B traps Sam and offers to help him understand, the same way Cuthbert helped her to understand. And no, it’s not with snuggly kittens and cookies! Sam argues for Jack. He’s a kid who’s already undergone way too much trauma in his short life! (I agree!!!) Mrs. B does NOT agree with this assessment. Pulling from Cuthbert’s playbook, she pries a fingernail off of Sam. It’s gooey! There are sound effects! While re-watching this scene, I actually put my hand over my eyes. It’s fine! 

Dean tries to use the blade to hack the cuffs off of Jack, but his attempt is useless. He just blasts Jack against a wall instead. That gives him an idea, though. “Pain is just weakness leaving the body,” Dean counsels Jack, positioning him in front of the exit door. He hacks at the cuffs again, throwing Jack against - and through the door. Well…...ooookay.

Now free, Dean and Jack head for the console and hit the reset button. The bunker turns a worried red and Mrs. B corners the three of them in the library. She’s going to stop Jack and save them! Sam tells her that Cuthbert TORTURED her to bend her to the Men of Letters cause. She can’t kill Jack!

“He can save the world,” Dean tells her. The whole mission of the Men of Letters is to do just that! (No pressurrrrrrrre, Jack!) That’s the magic phrase for Mrs. B, though. She breaks down in tears, and relents. In the end, she still loves the Men of Letters she knew (even if she entered into it in an entirely awful way). 

A little while later, she’s healed Sam’s hand and bids them farewell. She longs for the forest. When she leaves, the magic of the bunker will be diminished once again. But that’s fine! Dean just needs a grill and a nice TV room to take his honey on a date, amirite? Also, Dean doesn’t need fancy map tables and “whatever that telescope thing is.”

“It’s an interdimensional geoscope,” she corrects him carefully. Dean protests: he looked through it recently and didn’t see anything! “That’s not good,” Mrs. B proclaims softly. I hand her the Understatement of the Year Award.

Mrs. B counsels Dean to eat his vegetables, Sam to cut his hair, and Jack...to save the world. She whooshes out.

Later, Sam tries to tease out Jack’s feelings. Jack’s worried. For a supposed god-killing machine, he was easily trapped. Dean interrupts this existential crisis by arriving in the library with a covered cake stand. Whipping off the cover, we see Dean’s made Jack A BIRTHDAY CAKE! They put a single candle in it because OMG Jack is just a little baby. 

Dobby the Quote Elf:

We fought the devil. I killed Hitler. I think we can handle a few old pipes

Meat man coming to town!

Ignoring your trauma doesn’t mean you’re healthy

We all do things we’re not proud of but life gives us second chances and it’s our obligation to hold onto them.

Somebody’s shopping at Ambercrombie and bitch

Tell you what we’re gonna do. We’ll go downstairs… We’ll let Jack go. Forget this ever happened

Dang it. Dang-- Damn-- Damn it!

I’ve already had one monster take my family from me. I won’t have it happen again

He loves that apron

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[mysticsparklewings]

I keep promising to attempt to return to regular posting and then not really doing it, don't I? XP Well, hopefully this time I mean it. I do want to. And whether you guys can tell or not, I have made some behind-the-scenes strides towards being able to. One of the things pushing me this time though is I'm mad at myself that I neglected to post really anything substantial in March, which is going to mess up how I end up filling out this year's Art Summary in December/January time. That probably sounds like a silly thing to be worried about, but...I don't know. I like having at least one thing to show per month that shows what I did during the year. It's like a super-extended checklist of, "Yeah, I did something that month!" Anyway. I thought maybe posting something like this--A bit more than my usual WIP Wednesday of empty promises--would help hold me more accountable...and now you can also see I'm not kidding when I say I have a backlog of stuff I haven't posted yet. XD Some of my be familiar, some of it I've mentioned once or twice before, some of it is totally new to you guys...and some of it was technically "backlog" even before my unintentional off-again on-again hiatus. But I've blurred the names since some of the titles aren't finalized and a few I'd like to keep as a tiny bit of a surprise. ;) As for the WIP Side, technically most of what you see is also backlog now, but it hasn't been scanned in yet, so I'm withholding "backlog" status until then. Still, you can see I have finally finished the Art Snacks piece I've shown actually WIPs for twice now, a funny little cat drawing I've said nothing about, the PRINTED PROOF FOR THE NAPOWRIMO BOOK! :D, and underneath all that is the planner I set up to...help me keep track while playing catch in Animal Crossing. Yes, part of my absence initially included not playing AC:NH since mid-November, and then more recently was because of me trying to catch up in-game between when I stopped playing and the present day. Now, the NaPo Book is probably the most exciting thing for obvious reasons. And while I don't want to drag out the details too much here (I fully intend on doing a separate post about that), I will say that I now understand A. Why there's usually a whole team of people behind making a book and not just one person; and B. Why we order proof copies before putting the thing up for sale. Because somehow a handful of mistakes made it past me and at least three other people I had look at the book before ordering the proof. XP   Something also kind of exciting is I do have a small assortment of supplies that I'm almost done swatching (which yes I have totally been procrastinating on) and will then need testing, which means viable excuses to make yet more art to add to the pile!   Of course, then the problem becomes getting myself to sit down and write out all the descriptions for said art. I know technically I don't have to, but I like having that written record of what I did most of the time--because I do revisit my old descriptions sometimes to replicate the process for a new piece--and I personally don't like how some artists make these big elaborate pieces and then have nothing to say about how they made it other than how long it took. To me, there's something humanizing about explaining the process, so to just skip it altogether would just feel wrong to me. Although considering how not wanting to physically put in the effort to do that has held me back, I may experiment with not going into quite as much detail or otherwise trying to streamline my process a bit. (And admittedly some pieces have been in my backlog so long I don't fully remember all the details...which is exactly why I try very hard to get the descriptions done sooner rather than later.) And you know, in some ways it may look or feel like I'm constantly playing catch-up in one way or another, but I've realized that when I really get in the mood to sit down and dedicate time to something, sometimes I actually like having a looming pile staring at me. Part of the reason I hadn't played AC in so long was I was a bit burnout and kinda bored with it, but having so much to do to catch up really reignited that fire in me. The game felt like it had purpose again. While we're on realizations, I probably don't have to tell a lot of you that I'm still in the camp that a lot of my life and my mental health is just better and more enjoyable when social media is not in it. Extra so for Twitter, in particular. Do you know how much nicer it is to only have to check my very small list of "favorites" to see what they're up to, which takes about 5, maybe 10 minutes at a time, and not feel like I owe it to any of them to interact with their tweets? [Because most of them are too big to even notice me anyway, but I digress] That is SO much better than the endless home feed scrolling of hundreds of people, lots of whom I don't even follow they just show up because people I follow, follow them (which I want to turn all the way off so badly but I can't because that's not how Twitter works) and half of which is content I. Could Not. Possibly. Care less about.   I like Twitter for news on content creators that can't easily post a small status update to Youtube or whatever. I DO NOT like Twitter for Social Media. AT ALL. Seriously. I opened myself up to posting pictures of my cats over there, and it's STILL not enough to keep me posting and engaging regularly. That's how bad it is. Ahem. My little rant aside, I have thus decided since the Twitter Game™ does more harm than good to me, in general I'm just not going to play it anymore. I'll post my art over there and other stuff when I feel like it, but otherwise, I'm just captial-D Done With It until further notice. It's just better that way. Speaking of games, you may all be surprised to know I've been chipping away at a little video project [about a game] while all this has been going on, too. The NaPo Book comes first, but I'm hoping to have some serious headway on the video done, if not have it finished, by mid-June/July. I've mostly been bouncing around various software trying to find one that can do everything I need on a budget of exactly $0, and the good news is I think I've finally landed on one...which I'll spare you the details of for now. Once the video is closer to being a reality, then we'll delve more into that. So...yeah, that's what's been cooking in the metaphorical Mystic Kitchen. And I tell you guys all of this to 1. Hopefully be the first of that "regular posting" I want to do (still looking at once a week, which I've said probably 500 times before now), and 2. Putting it out there, as I alluded to before, will hopefully be like me signing a contract with myself. "You said you were going to do the thing, so do it." And with that, I suppose I should end this here since this description is surely long enough already, and get back to work on some of that stuff so I'll be more likely to follow through with it, yeah? ;) See you soon, I hope 

[writtenbyvenus]

What We Do In The Shadows

Chapter 3: I Love You, I Love You Not

Werewolves and vampires: two species that are mortal enemies. But in a small town in Upstate New York, they seemed to find a way to co-exist by staying out of each other's way and minding one's business. However, the dynamics of the local pack of werewolves and coven of vampires would change when a certain pair got too close for comfort. Alfred is an over seventy-year old werewolf posing as local law enforcement, while Ivan is a centuries old vampire working at a blood bank. Both try to get through the struggles of being immortal creatures, who find themselves in a cultural and family struggle when they fall for each other. Between an anti-vampire pack leader, suspicious in-laws, and a death that could nearly tear two families apart, the pair questions if a relationship is a reality, or if they carry too much baggage. 

( Warning, this is in RP format, but has been edited and proof read for grammar/flow. A change between writers and/or perspective with both characters is symbolized by a bold first letter. )

‘The life of an immortal is lonely, you suffer as the entire world changes while you stay stagnate. Unable to do the most natural thing all humans do: change.’

But Alfred didn’t want to suffer anymore. 

Perhaps he would branch out. He didn’t want to have one night stands forever, it hurt his soul to say goodbye to someone he could see spending an eternity with. And the man was too scared to turn someone into a wolf, he felt like it was a curse he couldn’t bear turning someone he loved into it. It weighed too heavy, that choice. Sighing, he kept his eyes closed, enjoying every touch offered by Ivan. The man was right, he was cocky and proud. Even if he partly hated being a werewolf, there was still a piece of pride in it. He thought it was semi-cute that Ivan offered to lick up his wounds, but he was unsure if he’d take Ivan up on that offer. While adorable, weirdly, seemed too risky. What if he couldn’t control himself? Then he’d have to fight Ivan and was the last thing on his mind. He chuckled hearing how Ivan got his meals, it was just funny. But he was happy the man found a non-lethal way to get his blood. He would rather have him steal people’s blood and keep them alive. Humming, he grinned when he got a kiss on his forehead. Was he winning him over? “Okay. I’ll come over. Next time you work, I’ll be there. Better have snacks for me.” He teased, nuzzling his cheek into his lap again. “If you are bloodthirsty, we could hunt right now....” Alfred offered, but understanding if he said no. 

Ivan was a reclusive individual so there wasn't much he had to cope with when he was forced to keep out of the sunshine or risk burning his skin. There wasn't much sun to fight against where he first turned anyway. Even New York was a frosty, shady place that kept him frozen. He could feel the chill, the heat. It was almost painful. With Alfred curled up on his lap, he was warmed up thoroughly. He just wished to keep the puppy for a moment longer, scratch his head, and squeeze him tight. With the number of nights he's seen the man stay out, he didn't dare pursue him. He didn't enjoy awkward moments between his neighbors if there was a miscommunication on their relationship. Over the hundreds of years, he had plenty of money to help him sit pretty so he could jump up and leave at any time. Bad endings hardly were ever a reason to flee, but after all the information he just admitted to Alfred. There may be a problem. As he sits and plays with Alfred's hair, he'd take the moment for what it was and love on his neighbor. Friendly, but not too friendly. "You asked me- no, you begged me to come over and watch a show with you and your eyes have been more closed than open the entire time I'm here." Teasing the other and his persistence, he carefully wedged Alfred up from his lap for a moment to readjust his legs. The blood in his body wasn't his own. It was a liquid patchwork gushing through his body and cutting off at his legs. Even the wolf's cute puppy eyes couldn't take away the uncomfortable amount of weight on his thighs.

He mentally rejoiced when he heard Alfred finally accept his offer. His fangs prodded and extended out of his gums just thinking about the blood slithering through the tube and out of Alfred's arm. He pulled a hand quickly over his mouth as he tried to calm his appetite. He was giddy over a simple dribble, it was near lustful and he despised the feeling because it distracted him when he was out in public. A small whiff of blood would send him prowling around someone like they were just prey to him. It was instinctive and it infected his code, but he's trained himself to control it significantly better. Living, breathing people, that's what he's killed and it hung over his head. Most of the people he stalked down, he had no idea if they were innocent or immoral. He tried not to mull over it too heavily. Thankful he had a new outlet to take the burden off his shoulders. Given the opportunity to turn back to the meat of it all and nestle his teeth onto some rapist's neck, he might have to give in and spend time with Alfred. It certainly sounded fun to him at the very least. "That depends on what you mean by hunting... You don't-" Letting go of his now presentable mouth, Ivan gestured, with his hands, a set of teeth opening and closing. "eat humans, right?" He questioned because deer blood was downright nasty to him. If prepared right, it was tolerable. "I always thought werewolves ate small animals."

Alfred snickered when he was made fun of for closing his eyes. It was easy to do it around Ivan, his soothing voice made him relaxed. No need to stare at the T.V. when Ivan was the entertainment he needed. Getting pushed off Ivan’s legs, he sat up lazily, missing his body. Sitting up straight, he let the man adjust his legs as he wondered how Ivan would feel on his lap.... His thighs were squishy, did the back feel the same way? Dirty thoughts, but he was only an animal inside. Humming, he saw in the corner of his eyes how excited Ivan got. Wow- so the man did want his blood? He wasn’t sure if it was a turn on or off, either way, it interested him. Ivan could get a small taste if it meant if he’d get more hang out time with Ivan. He was a tad bit mean, so he might only give Ivan a small thing of blood. Use the rest as bribery. With a thirsty vampire-like Ivan, he could probably convince the man to do a few things. “Yeah, I’ll stop by. If I’ll donate blood, we’ll see. Depends on my mood.” He teased, not letting Ivan know if he’d really hand over his arm and let him be drained. Teasing was all in good fun, wasn’t it? Raising a brow, Alfred shook his head at the question of eating humans. “Nope, only animals. Do... vampires, do you guys like animal blood? Can y’all live off of it?” He asked, wondering if it was similar to Twilight. Vegetarian vampires were an interesting concept.

Missing the contact he had with Ivan, he decided to be bold. Being bold was the only thing he could do now. He liked Ivan, and they were getting closer. Wanting to let the man know he liked the vampire, he decided to tease back about his first comment. “You know, you are right. We should pay more attention to the T.V....” Grabbing Ivan’s waist, he brought the man down with him as he laid back. It caused Ivan to lay across his chest. Holding the man tight, he enjoyed locking Ivan in his arms, keeping his head on top of his chest. Kissing the top of his forehead, he faced the T.V. His fingers played with the vampire's hair, taking pleasure how soft it felt in his fingertips. Ivan felt softer than he thought... he always imagined vampires were rock hard, tense, and dead. But Ivan was still alive, in some weird way. Just like him...

Ivan's excitement faded at the change of heart. It would require more reeling in before he could get what he wanted from Alfred. Two cups are all he could wish for and just a little bit of the man's time. Letting the talk of donating go, he shrugged his shoulders. The blood type wasn't hard to acquire, one in three people had O-positive so he wasn't going to jump on Alfred about it. Even if it was Alfred's blood. Something about the fact made it ten times more unattainable and sought after to him. He drummed his fingers across the couch when the other voice piped up. There were dozens of animals he hasn't sampled yet, so he couldn't judge the palette completely, but by the number of deer and bears he has tried, he found that animal blood wasn't for him. His body rejected it and wouldn't cooperate with it as if he was only designed to cater to his own lost species. He envied Alfred and his ability to not cannibalize the people around him, werewolves didn't have the problem of accidentally eyeing down someone too long to the point where they're uncomfortable. "Technically... yes. I can survive off animal blood, but it's grainy and almost stale- it makes me sick." He explained, distracting himself with the television

There wasn't much between him and ending Alfred with his big sweet smiling eyes when he was cradled down into his arms. At first, he considered snapping at the abrupt and out of line action, but he wasn't hurt by it so he didn't see the use in upsetting Alfred. Allowing himself the luxury, he rested his head against the chest and ran his fingers through Alfred's hair once more. Doing his best to ignore the flashing intimacy on the screen, he closed his eyes. "You're coming on a little strong, Alfred." Tugging slightly at the strands between his fingers as a warning, he turned his nose away from the awaiting pulses he could hear in the werewolf's neck. He couldn't tell if Alfred was ignorant or if he was asking for trouble. Steadying his heart, his thumbs brushed along the American's eyebrows. With a near millennium of experience under his belt, he didn't hold back his tongue when he was uncomfortable. Passionate moments were even more difficult to have him swooning over, but he still had fun playing with someone. He's learned his lesson in giving cold rejections. However, he was pleased to feel warm hands wrapped around him and a burning chest against his cheek. Alfred was someone he wanted to trust, someone he didn't want to bite, but still someone he wanted to taste. "Do you get this close to every vampire you meet?... I might have to keep my family away from you if that's the case." Poking fun, he relaxed and smiled at the strokes to his head while giving his share back to Alfred's. "Do you have family or friends other than Allen?"

Alfred was blessed that Ivan didn’t react negatively. Instead of biting or pulling away, Ivan laid on his chest. The wolf was a cuddly man, he adored nothing more than to snuggle up close to someone. Wrap his arms and legs around them, nuzzle his face into their neck, and fall asleep. His hot body always kept someone warm. And with Ivan’s colder temperature, it was a great balance. Closing his eyes too, he smiled when his eyebrows and hair were played with. He knew he was coming off strong, but he was an alpha puppy at heart. He knew what he wanted, and would put effort into getting it. Ivan was the untouchable prize; he’d fight for it. “Mm.... No, I don’t. Don’t sweat it, I won’t try to talk to your sisters. I only got room for one vampire right now.” He teased, meaning it. One of his hands went to Ivan’s lower back, stroking it back and forth. He attempted to be relaxing and soothing, letting the man untangle in his arms. He didn’t want Ivan to tense up and panic, that was the last thing. The more at peace Ivan was, the better. He wanted to see if he could convince the vampire to a sleepover. He wasn’t asking for sex, just a night of cuddling and watching T.V., but he’d have to find a way to propose this to Ivan without coming off as a slime ball. He just wanted to cuddle.... sure, if more happened, he wouldn’t complain, but he wasn’t going to try anything. Simple cuddling under his handmade silver fox blanket. Resting his chin on Ivan’s head, he started to think about his pack members. “My parents are dead, my brother is alive though. And so are his wife and kids. I only talk to my brother, his wife and kids think I died a long time ago. He’s the only person who knows the truth. I follow his kids on Instagram and stuff to keep up with them since they are my nieces and nephews... But I stay at a distance. It sucks, but it has to be like that...”

Ivan wouldn’t be able to see the hurt in his eyes, but he’d be able to hear it in his voice. It hurt Alfred not to be involved with his own family. He wanted to be the uncle everyone loved, that came around and spent time with the kids. Took them out for trips, shopping, helped them with homework, and gave life advice. In all honesty, he wanted that life for himself with his own children, but that would never happen. It was all taken away. That was the curse of immortality in Alfred’s eyes, the purpose of life was to create more, and he couldn’t. Alfred would always be... idling in life, never getting old but never growing, always at a plato. “My pack members... There’s a lot of them. They are all guys, for some reason I swear other werewolves only want to scratch dudes. Or maybe girls are immune to it... I’ve heard some werewolves say that most females are- but anyway. There’s a lot of us, but I would rather not say the names. It’s their secret, not my right to share it. I shouldn’t have mentioned Allen’s name anyway.” He didn’t feel comfortable naming all his pack members. Privacy and their oath to it was an important virtue in their culture, and he wouldn’t risk it to swoon over an alluring vampire. Only if they got really closer. “I already know who’s a vampire in this town. I can smell them. So you don’t have to tell me about your vampire sisters. I know. It’s just something us dogs can sniff out.” He joked, kissing Ivan’s forehead softly again.

Letting out a sigh, Alfred reviewed the interactions between him and Ivan in the past hour. The fact that the pair went from making slight threats to each other to now getting cozy on his sofa was a mixture of odd and not. The past two months of bonding doing chores grew a feeling of attraction, plus a yearning for trust. The pair wanted to get close, but fears of each other's powers and species kept them from opening up. Then again, Alfred is the type to move relationships and intimacy fast, it was usual for him. However, his vampire crush appeared to be more cautious and closed off; so he questioned Ivan’s acceptance of the change in their dynamic. “So, how did we go from not mentioning that we are immortals, to cuddling on my couch? Not complaining, by the way…” he asked, his voice calm but friendly. 

Ivan snorted, agreeing with the oddness of the situation. He stayed quiet for a moment as he contemplated his behavior. Living so many lifetimes, he became used to the usual formula of getting close to someone. However, those were nearly all humans. Finding a fellow immortal that he found attractive and worthwhile to keep around made him want to cling and never let go. Jumping with both feet, as one would say. The reality that he could be making a mistake did stay in the back of his mind, but he wanted to keep it there. “I believe… us both opening up helped… You answered many questions I have been thinking about since we first met, and I could probably say the same for you…” He took a deep breath, one that matched Alfred’s. The relaxation from Alfred’s touches was foreign, it has had been a while since someone’s fingers had such an effect on him. “I’ve been attracted to you since I met you…” 

Ivan never considered being close with someone a part feral dog. With his hands still cradling Alfred's head, it was uncouth behavior for himself. There was no result he had to lead the werewolf into a state of vulnerability and break that trust. It was never as if he pulled that trick often, but he could already feel the relationship ending terribly. So far, Alfred had been good to him and he wanted to keep that light in the puppy's heart. He figured that Alfred had a few years to explore his identity and form bonds with others of his kind, but something about locking Alfred down didn't feel humane to him. With every inch of Alfred's personality, he could read it. While there would be some tug and pull over whether he was right, he knew that Alfred didn't know what he wanted. The man was alone and deeply aching and he smelt it. 

Seeing as Alfred was desperate for comfort and affection, he'd be softer on him. There wouldn't be any nail digging when he deemed a reach to be lower than standard. Instead, he patted the dirty blond hair and stretched out one of his legs to situate the hand higher up on his back. Their hips weren't overlapping so could relax without any potentially fatal movements when he got comfortable. Alfred wasn't much of his to hold onto, but those sorts of displays of affection restricted to particular facets of platonic and romantic love weren't his to decide. He was having a pleasant time, so he'd worry about his real emotions later. As for the moment, he was more concerned with Alfred's own feelings in his unsteady words. Attempting some consolation, he straightened up the head of hair in slow-paced layers. "Not everyone can be as lucky as me, but I understand and I really do hate how pitiful you sound over it-... Watching someone you love to grow old without you is hurtful, isn't it?" He sympathized, plenty of the same scenarios rattled off from family friends and even lovers.

After mindlessly opening his eyes to watch the show and rub more gentle touches through the stiff strands, he decided to ask. "Have you turned anyone into a werewolf?... I bet you never even attacked anyone, have you? You don't have the heart for it." He wasn't mocking or teasing Alfred about his tenderness veiled by aggressive bluffs; it was something he admired. Something about werewolves always led them to be huffy or extremely playful and friendly. The fact that struck him interesting was the exclusion of females. Now that he considered it, he didn't encounter very many female werewolves. Vampires were more diverse, a blended mix of all demographics. They were a hidden subhuman society of subhuman that bred and carried on wreaking havoc across the globe. He, in particular, wasn't knit in with community life. His friends were few and far between. It had been a few years since he's spoken to his old close friend, the distance made it hard to keep in contact and it didn't help that he had a falling out with the now German vampire. Gilbert was one of the first vampires he met; he could never forget the distinctive odor the pale man carried, pungent. Alfred's fluffy puppy smell was much more pleasant, the blood perfumed, and blended with the werewolf olfactory calling card. He could nuzzle even closer to Alfred and take in more of it, but rushing that along wasn't a priority of his. "Do all werewolf names start with Al?... It might explain the lack of women if you ask me." Joking along, Ivan sat up and settled back into his seat. Taking Alfred's feet into his lap, he began running the tips of his fingers up the soles. "You seem tired. Maybe you should turn this off and lay down?"

Alfred didn’t want to spend to much time on the topic of romance and mortality. Staying young as the other grew old, it was a painful reminder that he was different. Unchanging, forever, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it. There was no cute to this curse, and Alfred was stuck being like this until the day someone buried his body. Keeping his eyes closed, he relished in each touch and careful act by the man. Ivan displayed a human side to him, one that was gentle and loving. Alfred took interest in that, locking it away in his brain and saving it for a time to give back to Ivan. Hearing the man bring up the painful topic of mortality, he nodded as he squeezed him tighter. “Yeah... It is.” He said, his voice low, lacking the usual gusto and life. Someone had sucked the joy out of it. Gulping, he squeezed Ivan again as his fingers rubbed circles on his back. Slow, gentle circles, his way of being non threatening and relaxing to his vampy crush. He mocked the loving behavior Ivan displayed when he got his hair pulled, showing that he did care about Ivan’s comfort. “No... I never have. Never will. I don’t want to give anyone the power of immortality, good person or not. I think someone might abuse it. And I don’t want to be that cause...” he confessed, sighing as he thought about the men who he'd killed. Many weren’t men who deserved to be alive, let alone given the chance of immortality. The chance of harming people, and getting away with it! They didn’t deserve that pleasure, and Alfred would never be responsible for it. He’d never bite or scratch a man who he did not want to kill. End of story. He didn’t play games, if he attacked a human, it was a good reason. He saved his human-hunting for the vilest of men, and those shouldn’t get the opportunity to have more victims.

He’d come to whine when Ivan pulled away and sat up. He found pleasure in having the vampire lay down on him. He was even getting used to the smell. He was quite smart with how they cuddled, letting his neck and shoulders rub all over it. That was the point, as his main scenting glands were there. The more he rubbed on Ivan from those spots; the harder and harder his scent was to remove. He did want Ivan reeking like a werewolf covered vampire all day? Yes. That’s how people would know to stay back, that’s Alfred’s. Due to being ticklish, he pulled his feet out of Ivan’s lap. He opened his arms, stretching them out as he cracked his back. “Yeah... I should lay down. You’ll stay over the night... right? My room is always really hot, and you cool me down. It’s super comfortable... Please?” Alfred asked, in the most begging, sugary sweet voice. His eyes even matched, begging with his voice. He sat up, his face going near Ivan’s own, working a pout. He wanted a cuddle buddy, the puppy was lonely and needy. And the vampire’s squishy, but cold body, was the perfect match for the needy, but a burning werewolf. Alfred was going to be good of course, keep his hands in the right place. No touching anything below the belt; only back rubs and cheek kisses.

The welcoming tightness was given a few tender scratches back to the blond locks. Ivan could sense the troubled and uneasy flex to Alfred's tongue. Something about the werewolf made him less pressured around him, he could rip himself away if he had to. The chipper American seemed to be a more even match, but he was sure if something terrible were to happen, he could slip off without a chunk of wood in his heart. He didn't want to square off with his close friend and end up hurt. If Alfred was specist and wanted to kill a vampire for sport, he knew that he would have been long snapped at and buried by now. There was no reason for him to feel unsound- he wasn't, but he didn't wish Alfred to see his serenity. Being hooked on a werewolf-like Alfred was a stab to his own ego. Ivan had time to sleep around, touch on a few mortals and immortals. Yet, he didn't seek out a good time like Alfred. It wasn't as if he was shallow or hardheaded, he just didn't find satisfaction in giving someone what they wanted so easily. He liked shows, he enjoyed watching Alfred bend over backward, but he knew it wasn't a one-sided attention endeavor. A whining pup wasn't a happy one; he liked earning a smile and getting to smile. He adored being touched, but he was sure that the pleasure was universal. With how open and clingy Alfred laid himself out to be, he assumed the feeling was nothing but mutual. He planned to pull and smooch on Alfred until his fur even had bruise marks where his lips have been.

His mouth sneered as he regretted pulling away so soon. He didn't even have Alfred's warm feet in his lap to keep him company. Hearing that he could stay for the night, he practically got scratched by a werewolf himself and grew a wagging tail. It didn't show significantly on his calm appearance that he was doing small cheers in his mind, but it was clear that he was content with the question. The begging and desperate pouts did have a way of convincing him and putting a faint smile on his face after all. Watching the American stretch, he rubbed a thumb to his chin and leaned back into the couch. "You want me to sleep in your bed?... Aren't you a little too old for sleepovers?" Fond of having someone to tease, he closed his eyes. Alfred was special to him, an experiment of sorts, a wandering curiosity that he could have fulfilled, but mostly a fuzzy sweet boy he found warm inside and out. If he was able to wrap himself around him without ending up a walking werewolf cologne bottle, he would. Cracking open his eyes, he gradually sat up from his spot. A few lingering puppy rubs to his skin would be alright with him. He closed the gap between him and Alfred, ghosting his lips over the other pair. "You're really lucky that you're so cute... I guess the puppy dog eyes are just a bonus feature that makes you harder to crush." Pulling away, he stood up from the couch and dragged Alfred up by his wrists along with him. Knowing the same layout of his apartment, he walked with Alfred over to his room. "Maybe you can go ahead and take off your clothes so I can see if you were bluffing?... I don't believe that you can change into a wolf at will." He just wanted an excuse to watch Alfred strip and blush before him. It was a pleasant atmosphere, but he wasn't surprised to note the pelts scattered across a werewolf's bed.

Alfred could feel his face getting red once Ivan closed in the space between their faces and agreed to spend the night. Pleased to see that his begging worked, he smirked, still rocking a cocky grin with red cheeks. Standing up with Ivan, he let the man lead him, even if it was his own house. “So you are finally admitting that I’m cute? Thank god, you have standards.” He teased, taking the chance to check out Ivan from behind. He seemed to check the boxes in Alfred’s departments of what he looked for in a man. Even if Ivan was a vampire, he could see himself spending a long period with the man. He just has to get over the smell... But he was already starting to forget about it. Once in the room, Alfred went with Ivan’s request to see him take off his clothes. He wasn’t shy, not at all. “I usually sleep naked, but since I have company, I’ll keep on my boxers.” He commented, throwing his shirt on the floor and kicking off his sweatpants. Mostly muscular, with a slight sun-kissed tan, his body had a few scar marks, the most noticeable over his heart. A deep slash was there, a symbol of what made him turn every full moon. To anyone who asked, Alfred made up some story about being attacked by a bear one-night hunting, and that wasn’t far from the truth. He was attacked by something, just a creature more dangerous and horrible than an average bear.

Hoping into the bed, he half covered himself with the silver fox blanket, letting his chest be exposed. Tapping the area next to him, he attempted to convince Ivan to get undressed. “Since I’m only in my underwear, don’t you think it’s only fair for you to be too? Don’t worry, I’m not a creep. I won’t grope you.” He teased, taking the remote and turning on the T.V., he let The Office playing in the background, thinking the comedy would be good background noise to let Ivan relax. Then he could put on something more romantic, put on a classic, something sexy but still, heartfelt. Alfred wasn’t fully a creep, he did and would respect Ivan’s boundaries. He was mainly looking for someone to cuddle and nuzzle against during the night. Only cuddles, rubs, and if he’s lucky, a few smooches. 

"I should start calling you Narcissus because I've never seen such a short little man have so much ego." Ivan wasn't blind, he knew Alfred had some height, but he couldn't let people shorter than he forget about their sheer petiteness. A wicked grin jumped to his face when he caught Alfred with a red tint. There was no doubt in his mind that werewolves had the same blood that they were born with, but he wasn't positive if Alfred could show surprise. Catching someone blush was always gratifying; he found that it beat having to watch someone be sucked of any color.

In many ways, Alfred fits his outer crust. With the attention to the physique, he saw that the man truly cared about himself. His measly golf tee sized scars on his neck, they fell in comparison to the gash across Alfred's chest. Between puncture wounds with a burning aftertaste and a deep tissue scratch, he wasn't entirely sure which one he'd rather have to endure. That hadn't been his decision and it was a complaint, but he was used to his powers by now. Laughing at Alfred for neglecting the whole point of wanting him to strip, he pushed off his loafers. "Do you have short term memory loss or did you just stop listening to me when I told you to take off your clothes?" He ignored the request to follow in the other's footsteps and simply observed how Alfred prepared to lay down. It disappointed him when he didn't get to see Alfred pace around in circles and flop down. From the way it was described to him, he shouldn't worry too much if he spots a wolf walking around the apartment complex. It was simply Alfred, but a puppy edition. "Oh? Or is it that you were just talking earlier? You really can't change at will... too proud to take back what you said, I see." Slipping into bed away from Alfred, he shot a disturbing glare to the flashing television. There was a reason why bats were heavily associated with his kind. Dark, cold, and even damp environments were the most familiar ways for him to sleep. Sometimes he'd hang upside down if he felt so inclined. He wondered if Alfred curled up into a little compact ball and twitched when he had nightmares. Smiling upon the mangy yapper, he slipped his fingers behind Alfred's ear and gently scratched at the patch of skin and hair.

He eventually gave in to what was comfortable and unbuckled himself before shrugging off his pants beneath the covers. Sleeping with furs wasn't entirely foreign to him, but he forgot how outrageously warm they made him. He noticed that even Alfred wouldn't completely wrap himself up in the pelt. Tossing his turtleneck down along with his pants to the floor in a pile, he shuffled a short centimeter toward the blond. "Just so you know, I'm not asking for you to grope me." Warning the other, he stretched out his legs and adjusted his pillow. His fingers found the fur between them, pinching and petting the lifeless edges. He wasn't the biggest fan of hunting for sport, but he figured that it wasn't much sport to an animal and in a way, Alfred was an abounding pup. First keeping his distance for a moment, he ultimately moved closer to Alfred and squeezed his frame into his hold. "Ah... we forgot our clothes downstairs. Should we go get them before we become too comfortable?" He reminded and questioned himself even if he had no intent on leaving Alfred's side.

“Hey, I’m not short. You are just... freakishly tall!” He joked, not taking offense to his humor. Even though he was five-eleven himself, standing next to Ivan did make him seem smaller than he was. Seeing Ivan lose some clothes as well kept the grin on his face. He didn’t think vampires could be so... sexy, and his over sugar smell was starting to turn good. He couldn’t describe how, but Ivan went from smelling like burnt, over-processed sugar, to honey and flowers. Perhaps it was all in Alfred’s head, his crush on Ivan made his senses turn something gross into something good. Or maybe, due to him being a vampire, he subconsciously thought they all smelled bad, even if they didn’t. Whatever reason, he became more comfortable breathing through his nose around Ivan, as his scent didn’t bother him. He wished he could lean in to sniff him more, a wolf habit he had gained. He laughed again about the comment with his clothes, as he had no modesty, and he’d strip nude if asked. “I mean... I can take off the underwear if you want. I don’t mind being naked. But you gotta get naked too, only fair...” He teased, grabbing Ivan’s thigh and wrapping it around his waist. His hands stroked the man’s thigh, taking advantage of the free skin. It was cold, but soft at the same time. He imagined vampires being cold and hard, but Ivan wasn’t. He was squishy, had fat on his body. He did squeeze the thigh a few times, his hands enjoying the sensation of cold, yet soft. With Alfred’s body temperature being a few degrees hotter than the average human, cooler temperatures were soothing. Ivan’s body was like a nice fan on a hot summer day, cooling down the burning hot man.

“You being cold feels pretty nice…” He yawned, his face going into Ivan’s neck. While he wanted to kiss it, he kept to his promise and only nuzzled it. He purred when Ivan scratched his head, pleading with the sensations. “I can change on will, I just rather do it another time. Don’t want to scare you... and if the T.V. is bothering you, I can turn it off.” He mentioned, noticing how Ivan gave the light a dirty look. He pulled Ivan a tad bit closer, loving the cold Ivan provided. “Just forget about it, I’ll get them in the morning. This bed and you are comfortable... I’m not letting go anytime soon...” He said, giving in and placing one single peck on Ivan’s cheek. Only one, and then he returned to nuzzling his neck. The puppy was needy for the affection of any kind. Sweet words, rubs, kisses, his hands kept stroking back and forth on Ivan’s thigh. It wrapped around his waist made him more comfortable and feel safe. Having someone around you was the best way to sleep in Alfred’s eyes. Especially if the said person checked every box in appearances, and was starting to in personality. He was funny, flirtatious, but still held his ground. Alfred pulled towards strong personalities, it was who he was. So it was what he wanted.

The heat produced by Alfred drew Ivan in. He felt as if he was already holding onto some sort of animal, the fur blanket creating the illusion. It was like he was wrapped up in a fresh clean blanket from the dryer. Not as harsh as the sun that cooked into him, but the pleasant warmth of a cat curled up on his stomach. It made it difficult for him to keep his distance and his hands to himself. Assuming the rule would be the same for Alfred, he would respect the other body just as much as he wanted to be left without groping. Even if he wanted to run a finger over Alfred's scar and squeeze at his chest, he wouldn't go that far. He had to play it smart, he didn't want to give Alfred the wrong idea. The smell didn't have to emit off of the werewolf for him to understand that he wasn't his to keep. It wasn't clear to him whether his neighbor was taken or was someone who didn't like to be tied down to someone else. Either way, he knew better than to give in to his own desires and royally destroy the pleasant conversations he had with Alfred. To keep up the act and hold himself captive in the relationship he already had with the American, he didn't let his thumb linger too long over the smirking lips on Alfred's face. His eyes rolled at the comment, still not entirely sure if he was being teased. "I'd like it much more if you kept your boxers on... It will take a pint or more for you to convince me to lay naked with you." It was part joke and part genuine offer. A few times over, he has led bothersome individuals to an old cheap hotel room and bit into them. It wasn't his proudest way of maintaining himself, but it wasn't the bitterest thing he's gone through with. He was just happy to have some leverage on his kill count these days. In truth, he might have turned Alfred into a meal if he wasn't a hunting machine. If the man had been more of an intolerable creep, he would have considered it, but Alfred was sweet. It would be a tragedy for him to kill someone so beautiful.

"For someone who promises not to touch me too heavily... you're sure grabbing me a lot." He teased, not entirely upset. There were parts of him that still craved to be held, but he knew not to beg Alfred about it because the answer wouldn't be no. He adored Alfred, he wanted to play with his hair and kiss love into his ear, but he was patient. His rubs to Alfred's locks and down behind his neck were slow, dragging. "You don't have to sleep with it on, do you? I can just go back to my own bed and lay down instead. It's okay." He assured, avoiding the flash of the screen by taking his hand off of Alfred and shielding his eyes. "And- for your information, I've seen werewolves before. I'm not scared of them." Laughing, his fangs slipped down as he flashed his own grin at Alfred. "They should be scared of me." Referencing the conversation they had earlier, he nudged his forehead against Alfred's and gently grabbed at his side, bringing the body closer. Drawing his teeth up, he gave the small kiss back into his cheek. "Not you though, you shouldn't be scared of me... you're too much of a good puppy for me to hurt." He hummed, going back to pet at Alfred's hair. Everything about the werewolf was peculiar, he didn't understand his attraction to him, but it broke his heart to even consider hurting him. He wanted to keep Alfred safe.

Alfred took the remote and turned off the T.V., as he didn’t want any reason for the vampire to go up and leave. If that meant the room as to be dark and quiet, so be it. He opened his eyes and laughed when Ivan showed off his fangs, only going to squeeze his upper thigh. “You’re cute, even when you try to be scary...” More focusing on Ivan’s body and presence. Alfred took the chance and started to rub his neck on Ivan’s face, spreading his scent on the man. His hands and wrist were already doing work on Ivan’s legs currently. Scent marking was a big thing with werewolf’s, it was a great way to tell other wolves that someone was theirs and that they should stay away if they were smart. Werewolves in their human and wolf form had scent glands on their neck and wrist, as rubbing would brush their smell on the mate. It would only last a couple of days, but there was one way to make the scent-marking last weeks. Peeing or coming on a person, there was something about semen and urine that once on another person’s skin, would leave them smelling like the werewolf for weeks. Humans wouldn’t be able to detect it at all, their noses weren’t strong enough. But other werewolves would. All the werewolves would know not to touch Ivan, and to let him be. For now, he’d scent him more temporarily. He rubbed his neck on Ivan’s shoulder, his wrist going up to Ivan’s waist. Scenting his hips, he was happy with his work. He sniffed Ivan: Yup, he smelled like him! Grinning big and wide, he laid down with Ivan, placing the man’s head on his chest. Laying his head back in the pillow, he closed his eyes. “Wow. All I have to do is give blood for you to get naked for me? Noted... I’ll see you tomorrow then..” He teased, thinking that Ivan might be more willing to be playful back if he had an O-positive snack.

Feeling the cylinder of airways and muscle jump and bounce down his face, Ivan grunted. Heavy petting was generally fine with him, but having a neck smother his face was odd. He's seen and experienced some eccentric preferences, but being rubbed like that was new. It may have been that he read Alfred wrong and he wasn't some feverish little go-getter like he thought he was. Cuddling up with Alfred was a lot more unique and nearly awkward than he imagined. The idea of masking his own scent didn't even come to strike him, he just assumed that Alfred was unusual. He was at least grateful to be given peaceful darkness, bright lights irritated him to no end. His vision was catered to cutting through and seeing things when it was pitch black, but he could feel Alfred more than he could see him. He didn't fight back against the skin covering his body, instead, he leaned into the touches and soaked up the affection. His own fingers rubbed up and down Alfred's back and gingerly scratched at his chin. With his head pressed to the chest, he was tempted to lean in and kiss along the nasty gash across his heart. He knew it may be taken as a threat; if the was a faster way to suck someone dry than a neck, it would be the heart. It wouldn't take him but two seconds to kill Alfred off that way, but the werewolf would surely fight back. That's why necks were more optimal. They closed off the air supply. It took him a while to catch onto what Alfred was doing. The strange sniffing pointed in his direction being a key piece to bring the strange mannerisms together. "Who said I was yours to claim?" He would give the near slumbering pup a hard time about it because he had some fun hearing nervous excuses. There were enough werewolves in the area for him to awkwardly make eye contact with while the clingy mutt rubbed up on someone that was their lover. He even got growled at by some cretin for staring too long. It was hard not to stare at PDA when it was so obnoxious.

A glare burned into his closed eyes when he felt another teasing grab at his thigh laced with pleasing words. It was a guilty pleasure of his, to be fondled and groped, but he liked taking his time with Alfred for now. "You rub up on me as if you know me so well... and squeeze on me when I asked you not too." He hummed sarcastically, a faint smile leftover from Alfred's comment on donating. "That's fine." His lips guided themselves along the divide of the chest and up to Alfred's collarbone. Attempting to keep the werewolf calm and at peace, he continued to alternate between big and small circles being rubbed into his back. He was quite tired himself, his movements becoming slower as he put a kiss closer to Alfred's neck. The warmth was too soothing and beckoning. He wondered if Alfred was warmer as a sweet cuddly wolf. It was something he'd have to wait to pry out of his neighbor. A glimpse was all he asked for. Finally letting his arm lazily hook around Alfred's waist, he eventually joined him in slumber. He didn't move very much in his sleep, it was as if he was lifeless. It took a whole parade of a racket to stir him awake or else he would stay in a state of short hibernation and wake up a few days later. He was built to look and feel dead.

A

lfred knew that Ivan was going to give him a hard time about scent marking him, but Alfred just shrugged it off. “Mm... Me, that’s who...” He said in a tired voice. The man smelled like him, that was all that mattered. He smiled, snuggling up to him more when he was called a puppy. He was a puppy, indeed. He loved to cuddle, play fight, and scent whoever he adored. After scent-marking Ivan, perhaps in the morning he might pin Ivan down and play fight with him. It was fun to wrestle! To roll around in bedsheets, and see who was the strongest. He believed he could pin Ivan down easily and make him beg to be let go, and that it would be easily done. Then later they could cuddle, and Alfred could rub his scent glands on Ivan more. “My big alpha wolf inside of me sometimes is just a playful puppy. I think the same can be said about you... You seem like you can be somewhat innocent when you want to be...” He teased, giving a peck to Ivan’s forehead. “You smell good....” he said, yawning as he started to doze off.

His mind got hazy, especially with Ivan’s soothing rubbing. A lazy smile grew on Alfred’s face, wishing he could pinch Ivan to tease him for the backtalk. He knew not to take Ivan so seriously, as the man attempted to keep him calm and relaxed as well. He wasn’t pulling away or leaving the bed, so he mustn’t hate it that much. Whispering a few taunts back, he joined Ivan in falling fast asleep. Like Ivan, he was a deep sleeper too, who’s loud alarm was the only thing that would wake him up. With him always working the night shift, he usually slept all morning and into the afternoon. He did shift a couple of times but always seemed to pull Ivan close. He was a clingy sleeper, no matter what time it was, he’d find a way to touch whoever was cuddling him. There was one point at night where he had Ivan locked in his hold on top of him. But towards the morning, he was spooning Ivan, his arm and leg wrapped around him. His face in Ivan’s neck, he snoozed away, not wanting to wake up any time soon. He only got up sometime in the morning to pee, making an annoying sound as he pulled away from Ivan to use the toilet. Once he was finished, he flushed and returned to his warm bed and cold crush. He pulled Ivan close, laying on his back as he made Ivan lay on his chest. Enjoying the sensation of the Russian’s head on his chest, he let the man rest there, his hand stroking the leg wrapped around him. He felt safe like this, with someone wrapped around him. The cooling comfort of Ivan made it all worthwhile, and thoughts of donating some blood to see if his crush would loosen up a bit.

Ivan used to be a morning person, but his issues sleeping seemed to vanish once he was infected so he couldn't hate being a vampire if he could get his rest. Hardly did he toss and turn until his main source of warmth was stripped away from him. His fingers coiled and grabbed the sheets repetitively until he found Alfred again. He was in pure unbothered bliss. The only thing to take him away from his sinfully cozy spot around Alfred was the outrageously loud beeping of his phone. His eyes slowly drifted open as he assessed the situation. Jolting up from beneath the covers, he scrambled away from the heater of a body. If he lost his current job, he would lose his ability to provide for his sisters and himself. Unfortunately for him, blood banks opened early, but at least they were easy pickings. As cliche as it was, he used his time to gather a few degrees here and there. So, he was a certified nurse just so he could secure a position sticking a needle into some poor soul's arm. He adored his job and planned on keeping it. Getting to the floor, he searched his pants for his phone and quickly shut down his alarm. He religiously used multiple sounds to go off at once and he was, frankly, shocked to find his single alarm stirred him awake. Feeling bad for exposing Alfred to such a loud dominating ring, he dragged his pants over to the bed and tucked Alfred in. "I know it's loud, I'm sorry." His voice was low as he brushed a few complimentary strokes into the dirty blond hair. "I'm heading off to work, okay?... Will do me a big favor-" He sugarcoated his words, leaning closer to his face as he scratched behind Alfred's ear. "and bring my clothes up? You don't have to get up right now, but just make sure someone doesn't throw them away." It was something he was willing to do for a neighbor and he hoped Alfred wasn't too far gone to not be able to hear him. Shrugging on a pant leg, he put a kiss to each of Alfred's cheeks.

As he made his way towards the door, he pulled his pants over his hips and buttoned them up. He'd have to change into his scrubs once he made it back to his own apartment, but he wasn't going to risk walking out without any clothes on. At the doorway, he pulled his sweater over his head and turned to smile at Alfred. Out of habit, he chirped out what he usually left his sisters with. "I love you-" His mouth instantly snapped shut before quickly barking back open to try and correct himself. "No, I don't." Feeling as if he couldn't have said anything worse, he gave a simple wave to his crush. A mortified look staining his face as he stepped out of the room. A complete Freudian slip that had the potential to destroy his whole relationship with Alfred spat out of his mouth in one split second, of course, he was blushing with humiliation. He liked Alfred and he wanted to get closer to him, but he knew it was way too early to say anything close to I love you. It was too personal and he just said it out loud as if he was dating Alfred. He was burning again. Making it out of the apartment, he took a moment to hold his heart and get over himself. It wasn't long until he perked back up and hurried along to his own door to get ready with the awkward moment replaying in his head.

[ Link to Ao3, thank you if you read ! ]

[letterboxd]

The Package.

As the bonkers genre thrill-ride Shadow in the Cloud blasts into the new year, writer and director Roseanne Liang unpacks her love of Terminator 2, watching Chloë Grace Moretz’s face for hours, and the life lesson she learned from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’s Cheng Pei-Pei.

Roseanne Liang’s TIFF Midnight Madness winner Shadow in the Cloud landed with a blast of fresh genre energy on VOD platforms on New Year’s Day. It’s A-class action in a B-grade body, cramming plenty into its taut 83 minutes, including: a top-secret package, a freakish gremlin, a hostile bunch of Air Force dudes, outrageous stunts, dogfights and a fake wartime PSA that feels remarkably real.

Throughout, the camera is focused mostly on one face—Chloë Grace Moretz’s, playing British flight officer Maude Garrett—as she tackles all of the above from a claustrophobic ball turret hanging under a B-17 Flying Fortress, on a classified mission over the Pacific Ocean during World War II.

While the film’s tonal swings are confusing to some, schlock enthusiasts and genre lovers on Letterboxd have embraced the film’s intentionally outlandish sensibility, which “makes excellent use of its genre mash to create an unpredictable, guilty pleasure,” says Mirza. Fajar writes that “it felt like the people involved in this project knew how ridiculous it is and gave a hundred and ten percent to make it work. Someday, it will become a cult classic.” Mawbey agrees: “It really goes off the rails in all the best ways during the final third, and the last couple of shots are just perfect.”

Chloë Grace Moretz and her top-secret package in ‘Shadow in the Cloud’.

To most of the world, Liang is a so-called “emerging” director, when in fact, the mother-of-two, born in New Zealand to Chinese parents, has been at this game for the past two decades. She has helmed a documentary and a romantic drama, both based on her own marriage; a 2008 short called Take 3, which preceded Hollywood’s current conversation about representation and harassment; and Do No Harm, the splatter-tastic 2017 short in which her technical chops and fluid feel for action were on full display, and, as recorded in multiple Letterboxd reviews, established her as one to watch.

Do No Harm scored Liang valuable Hollywood representation, whereupon producer Brian Kavanaugh-Jones brought Shadow in the Cloud to her, thinking she might connect with the material. “It did connect with me on a level that is very personal,” Liang tells me. “As a woman of color, as a mother who juggles a lot.” She says Kavanaugh-Jones then went through the process of removing original writer Max Landis from the project. “He felt that Max was not a good fit for this project, or for how we like to run things. We like to be respectful and courteous and kind to each other…”

In several interviews, Liang has said she’s comfortable with film lovers choosing not to watch Shadow in the Cloud based on Landis’s early involvement. What she’s not comfortable with is her own contribution—and that of her cast and crew—being erased. While WGA rules have his name attached firmly to the project, the credit belies the reality: his thin script, reportedly stretched out to 70 pages by using a larger-than-usual font, was expanded and deepened by Liang and her collaborators.

Writer-director Roseanne Liang. / Photo by Dean O’Gorman

That team includes editor Tom Eagles, Oscar nominated for Jojo Rabbit, actor Nick Robinson (the titular Simon in Love, Simon) and Beulah Koale, a star of the Hawaii Five-Oh series. The opening newsreel was created by award-winning New Zealand animation studio Mukpuddy, after a small test audience got weirded out by the sight of a gremlin in a war film, despite well-documented WWI and WWII gremlin mythology. It’s an unnecessary but happy addition. The cartoon style was inspired by Private Snafu, a series of WWII educational cartoons scripted by none other than Dr. Seuss and directed by Looney Tunes legend Chuck Jones.

But the film ultimately hangs on Chloë Grace Moretz, who overcame cabin fever to drive home an adrenaline rush of screen craft, in which the very limits of what’s humanly possible in mid-air are tested (in ways, it must be said, that wouldn’t be questioned if it were Tom Cruise in the role). Liang would often send directions to Moretz’s ball turret via text, while her cast members delivered live dialogue from an off-set shipping container rigged with microphones. “I just never got sick of Chloë’s face and I’ve watched her hundreds, if not thousands of times. You feel her, you are her, she just engages you in a way that a huge fighting scene might not, if it’s not designed well. Giant empty spectacle is less interesting than one person in one spot, sometimes.”

Ambitious and nerdy about film in equal measure, it’s clear there’s much more to come from Liang, and I’m interested in what her most valuable lesson has been so far. Turns out, it’s a great story involving Chinese veteran Cheng Pei-Pei (Come Drink With Me’s Golden Swallow, and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’s Jade Fox), whose film training includes a tradition of remaining on set throughout filming.

Roseanne Liang on the set of ‘Shadow in the Cloud’.

That meant that, during filming of Liang’s My Wedding and Other Secrets, Cheng would stay on set when she wasn’t required. “In New Zealand, trailers are a luxury,” Liang explains. “I said ‘Don’t you want to go to the trailer that we arranged for you?’ ‘No, I just want to sit and watch.’ ‘Why do you want to watch it, you’ve seen it hundreds of times!’ And she said ‘I learn something new every time’. To Pei-Pei, the secret of life is constant education and curiosity and learning. Movies are her work and her craft and her life, and she never gets bored. If I can be like her, that’s the life, right?”

Speaking of which, it’s time we put Liang through our Life in Film interrogation.

What’s the film that made you want to become a filmmaker? Terminator 2: Judgment Day is the movie that is at the top of the mountain that I’m climbing. To me it’s the perfect blend of spectacle, action design, smarts and heart. It poses the theory that if a robot can learn the value of humanity then maybe there’s hope for the ships that are us. That’s perennial, and possibly even more pertinent today. It holds a very special place in my heart, along with Aliens, Mad Max: Fury Road, Die Hard, La Femme Nikita and Léon: The Professional.

What’s your earliest memory of watching a film? I have a cassette tape that my dad made for my grandma in 1981 (he’d send tapes back to his mother in Hong Kong). I was three years old and he had just taken us to see The Empire Strikes Back in the cinema. And he can’t talk to my grandma because I’m just going on and on about R2-D2. I will not shut up about R2-D2 and he’s like, “Yes, yes I’m trying to talk to your grandmother,” and I’m like, “But Dad! Dad! R2-D2!” So it’s actually an archive, but it’s become my memory.

What’s the most romantic film you’ve ever seen? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It’s not the sexiest, but it’s the most romantic. That last scene, those last words where she goes “But you’re gonna be like this forever and I’m gonna be like this forever…” and he just goes “okay”. That to me is one of the most romantic scenes I’ve ever seen. It is a perfect movie.

And the scariest? If it’s a horror movie, the most scared I’ve been is The Ring. I was watching it on a VHS and I was lying on a beanbag on the floor and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t move, because I felt that if I moved she’d see me! Also, American Psycho just came to me this year. I caught the twentieth anniversary of that movie, which is a terrifying film, and again, possibly more relevant now than when it was made. The scariest film that’s not a horror is Joker. It scared me how much I liked it. When I came out of the movie, I was like, “I’m scared because I kind of love it, but it’s horrible. It’s so irresponsible. I don’t wanna like this movie but goddamn, I feel it.” Like, I wanted to go on the streets and rage. In a way we’re all the Joker, we’re all the Batman. That duality, that yin and yang, is inside everyone of us. It’s universal.

What is the film that slays you every time, leaving you in a heap of tears? This is a classic one, the opening sequence of Up. The first ten minutes of Up just destroy me every time. I also saw Soul a couple of days ago and I was with the whole family and I, just, if I wasn’t with the whole family I would have been ugly-sobbing. I had a real ache in my throat after the movie because I was trying to stop [myself] from sobbing.

Tell me your favorite coming-of-age film, the film that first gave you ‘teenage feelings’? Pump Up the Volume. Christian Slater! Off the back of Pump Up the Volume, I fancied myself as a prophet and wrote a theater piece called Lemmings. Obviously the main character was a person who could see through the façade, and everyone else was following norms. “No one understands me, I’m a prophet!” So clearly I have this shitty, Joker-style megalomaniac inside of me. It was the worst play, and I don’t know why my teachers agreed for us to do a staging of it!

Christian Slater and Samantha Mathis in ‘Pump Up the Volume’ (1990).

Is there a film that you and your family love to rewatch? We’ve tried to impose our taste on our children, but they’re too young. We showed them The Princess Bride—they didn’t get it. We literally showed our babies Star Wars in their cribs. That’s how obsessive Star Wars fans we were.

Name a director and/or writer that you deeply admire for their use of the artform. I have a slightly weird answer for this. Can I just give love to Every Frame a Painting by Tony Zhou and Taylor Ramos? They are my film school. I was thinking of my love of Edgar Wright, but then I thought of their video essay on Edgar Wright and how to film comedy, and his essay on Jackie Chan and the rhythm of action and then their essay on the Coen Brothers and Shot Reverse Shot. I must have watched that 30 times ahead of the TV show that I’m making now. I started out in editorial and Tony Zhou is an editor and he talks about when to make the cut: it’s an instinct, it’s a feeling, it’s a rhythm. I realized the one thing in common that I could mention about all the films I’ve loved is Every Frame a Painting. It’s their love of movies that comes bubbling out of every single essay that they made that I just wanna shout out at this part of my career.

Were there any crucial films that you turned to in your development for Shadow in the Cloud? Indiana Jones was something that Chloë brought up—she likes the spiffiness and the humor of Indiana Jones. Sarah Connor was our touchstone for the female character. For one-person-in-one-space type stories, I watched Locke quite a lot, to figure out how they shaped tension and story and [kept] us on the edge of our seats when it’s only one person in one space. In terms of superheroes, I came back to Aliens. Not Alien. Aliens. You know, there are two types of people in this world—people who prefer Alien over Aliens, and people who prefer Aliens over Alien. But actually I think I vacillate for different reasons.

Can there be a third type of person, who thinks they’re both great, but Alien³, just, no? Maybe that’s the best group to be in. We don’t need to fight about this, we can love both of them! I was having an argument with James Wan’s company about this, because there’s a rift inside the company of people who prefer Alien over Aliens.

Okay, program a triple feature with your film as one of the three. I don’t know. Ask Ant Timpson!

I’ll ask Ant Timpson. [We did, and he replied: “Well, one has to be the Twilight Zone episode with William Shatner: Nightmare at 20,000 Feet. And then either Life (2017) or Altitude (2010).”]

Thank you Ant! I used to go to his all-nighters as a university student. He is the king of programming things.

Jake Gyllenhaal in ‘Life’ (2017).

It’s strange that we never met at one of his events! Ant would make me dress up in strange outfits and do weird skits between films. (For those who don’t know, Timpson ran the Incredibly Strange Film Festival for many years—now part of the New Zealand International Film Festival—and still runs an annual 24-Hour Movie Marathon.) So what’s a film from those events that sticks in your head as the perfect genre experience with a crowd? It was a movie about a man protecting a woman who was the girlfriend of a mafia boss: A Bittersweet Life. Not only does it have one of the sexiest Korean actors, sorry, not to objectify, but also I actually screenshot a lot of that film for pitch documents. And, do you remember a crazy Japanese movie where someone’s sitting on the floor with a clear umbrella and a woman is lactating milk? Visitor Q by Takashi Miike. I remember just how fucking crazy that was.

Finally, what was the best film you saw in 2020? I haven’t seen Nomadland yet, so keep in mind that I haven’t seen all the films this year. I have three: The Invisible Man, which I thought was just amazing. I thought [writer-director] Leigh Whannell did such a great job. The Half of It by Alice Wu, a quiet movie that I simply just adored. And then the last movie I saw at the cinema was Promising Young Woman. The hype is real.

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‘Shadow in the Cloud’ is available in select theaters and on video on demand now.

[tauforged]

You know, I really want to believe you’re not actively being malicious, but official sources have stated the average age of a Grineer soldier is about three years. Doesn’t feel even a little off shipping and making suggestive comments about a character who might as well be a toddler? I think you’ve mentioned you headcanon him to be around ten, but even so that’s. still really skeevy, especially considering Darvo is over 100 years his senior...

anon im assuming for the sake of my sanity that this is a joke or bait but lemme break this down for you real simple just in case you ARE actually serious because i promise you it isnt that deep :

tldr; while you technically have the numbers sort of right, you either  just like, have very vague approximate knowledge and got confused while surfing the wiki or something OR you’re willfully misinterpreting the lore to start an argument (which is kinda sad but thanks for the laugh i guess)

- i don’t think thats ever actually canonically stated in game but i feel like ive heard it around as well. it’s likely just a pervasive fan theory or something the devs dropped in conversation somewhere that i missed because i dont watch devstreams or read the forums 

- the grineer are mass-produced clone soldiers that are ‘born’ from tubes in a lab fully developed and immediately handed guns and dropped onto the battlefield, so the average age is likely so low only because:

 a. they only count time out of the tube, not how long it takes for them to develop 

b. the genetic decay from constant cloning canonically makes them fall apart after a few years because they are just not healthy and 

c. we as the players mow them down by the hundreds in every mission 

- now that ive officially pulled up the glaring issue i feel the need to remind you what grineer look like, in case youve somehow forgotten or dont actually play the game enough to know:

‘oh but you said it yourself there’s genetic decay of course they’re gonna look old--’ SIKE we got confirmed pre-clone rot original orokin era grineer in the cinematic trailer and they are also, believe it or not, grown ass men. also kinda look like handsome squidward. i still love them just as much its ok

- corpus only have such exaggerated lifespans BECAUSE they have access to the technology to keep them alive longer. if we’re entirely going off perceived age one could argue that the implications of the dialogue in ties that bind makes darvo the corpus equivalent to late teenage/young adult ‘still-not-quite-moved-out-of-his-parents’-house’ at ~110 yrs, while clem being oh, idk, somewhere between 5-10 makes him ancient in comparison to the average lancer. 

- it is also canon that grineer celebrate birthdays (confirmed via vay hek’s dialogue in saya’s vigil) and i honestly doubt that would be a thing if they really all only lived for a couple years. like i said, the low lifespan is realistically probably limited to low-ranking loyalist cannon fodder troops, rather than any of the higher ups such as minibosses and system bosses and definitely not for defectors like the steel meridian or kavor, who are no longer at risk of being julienned like a fucking carrot by the first tenno they see and therefore live a hell of a lot longer

- i know i literally just said its not that deep but its bothered me for a long time now that people tend to characterize clem as being Practically A Baby when hes not only a whole adult but ex-military and spent time on grineer death row for killing fascists, only to break out and go right back to killing fascists even harder out of spite because they messed with his guns, PURELY because he only says the same two words to get his point across like this is a large f*ndom trend that i see a lot and it grinds my gears. something something just because someone doesnt communicate verbally doesnt mean theyre stupid or childish something something you get the idea. as someone who goes nonverbal as a stress response it’s a touchy area for me personally and also part of why i love him as a character so much. barely relevant to your ask but while im discussing clem meta i might as well throw this in

ANYWAY if you were actually concerned i hope this cleared things up! if you were just trying to start shit however fear not i have a gift just for you

[peepingtoad]

||—@dokuhebi​ submitted:

They are at a bar, the evening is warm, the people are cheerful, the drinks are free, and they are surrounded by familiar and trusted faces. This is no time to be feeling more blue than the curaçao cocktail sitting in front of them. One of far too many in their light weight system. Loosening a tongue that was far too cutting and dangerous to be so honest. But then, they remind themself, they are also only in their twenties, and had already been swept up in the dealings of multiple wars, civil and global. Assignments since they were seven. Orphaned since they were six. So really - what right did any technicality the universe could offer have to tell them they ought to wait for the ‘appropriate time’?  Their golden eyes are watching him, the way his hand fits around the entire glass, the way he so quickly gets through each drink - yet somehow seems to be more sober than the serpent. How the white hair framing his face moves with him when he laughs, the shape of his eyes and lips when he smiles, the little glances he steals between them and Tsunade.  And if they were being fair - which they self admitted they were not, and refused to be - they may realize that for every glance he steals at Tsunade, he gives one to them. That every time he offers her a drink, he offers them one. That if both they and she were cold, he would forfeit his jacket and then his shirt so both of his team mates were content. It should be enough. But when was anything enough for the viper? Especially when they found themself brooding a little too much.  Because that was perhaps, one thing no one had found the trick to saving them from. Not since the day their parents died. Not since they caught a glimpse at the monsters in this world, and became so haunted by the prospect, that they imagined these monsters even when all was peaceful. Tormented by a monster once real and now more commonly fabricated. So as they move the straw in their glass, stabbing at the drink more than indulging it, they can not help their quip. The moment their teammate makes some statement, promise or playful joke about keeping the serpent and Senju princess safe, their golden eyes snap up and away from their drink. Not at all within the realm of festivity as Tsunade and Jiraiya offered. No, their voice, regardless of the smile they offer that shows little more than teeth, is coated in venom and tactless query.  “What if you could only save one of us?” It isn’t a fun question, it doesn’t hold any playfulness. It is far too real a possibility in their shinobi lifestyle, and it is far too accusing a question. Too timed. It had been plaguing them for the longest while. Not quite who he would rescue, for they are not afraid to protect themself out on the field. But instead, a backwards way of trying to dissect his mind and decisions to find out who he loved the most. And while any sensible person would perhaps find a quiet moment to ask the man such a thing in private, for a true confession, the serpent must set up a trap, and corner him. If they ask him one on one, he may just say he cared for them, to appease them. But how much more blocked in the man is when Tsunade sits beside the serpent, both team mates facing Jiraiya. Of course, they don’t pose it as something serious. No, they disguise it as one of their mistimed and socially inappropriate jokes. How they are accused of being cold, cruel and weird for their off beat demeanor. An easy hiding place, madness.  “Say we both drank poison, and you only had one cure. Or we were both targeted by enemies, and you could only intercept one attack,” they ask, toying with their drink as they toy with him, acting much like a cat playing with a mouse before eating it, wanting franticness and panic, or there simply wasn’t any fun, “well? Who would you save?”

With a countenance as naturally severe as theirs, it’s always difficult to say whether Orochimaru is even having a good time or not; even with alcohol thrown into the mix, it makes them no more easy to read than if they were stone cold sober. The only thing working in Jiraiya’s favour is many years by their side, of knowing them and their ways, and knowing that periods of watchful silence (a different beast to their regular silence) tends to mean that there’s something unpleasant going on within that unfathomable mind of theirs.

And it’s just like Jiraiya to simply let them lie dormant when first he senses that this silence is indeed one of those silences, figuring that if they want to say something, they no doubt will. No doubt waiting for the perfect time to pipe up amid the pleasant buzz and clatter of patrons and bar staff. 

Until then, however, Jiraiya has every intention of maintaining the levity of the evening as well as he possibly can—first of all, because it had been quite some time since they all had a short reprieve home, and second of all because they damn well deserved it. After months spent surrounded by the drab grey of Ame, whose ruined ground was by this point nought but scorched earth, blood and the rot of corpses pounded into a slurry by the relentless downpour… yeah, he very much ached for his home, and wanted to make some good memories here to tide them over once they were sent back into the fray.

Still, it’s only natural that given the state of the world around them and the overall horrific turn their lives had taken, conversation soon turns to lighter recollections of their exploits, the frankly insane things they’d survived so far, and the numerous ways they’d saved each other’s skins. After all, the name Densetsu no Sannin had spread like wildfire, right to the point where it had become very well known at home, where the familiar visages that greeted them were of the utmost awe and (far less familiar) respect. 

So it had been a simple thing to stir up some excitement and revelry with wild tales, until the three of them were left alone once more to chat more freely as they were wont to. In hindsight, it’s always easier to play up the theatre of their feats when one isn’t currently in that place of peril, with death reaching out to wrap barbed tendrils around one’s throat and yank them flailing into the underworld—but even then, the tall tales sold to random patrons come with a certain lull afterwards, punctuated more noticeably by the stabbing of a straw against ice and glass than he’d paid heed to so far.

And when Orochimaru speaks up, which Jiraiya had been starting to expect was coming like the most quiet yet brutal storm, he only needs to see the smile before he realises it won’t be good.

The stirring of the drink, whose colour was dimming thanks to the ice melting faster than they were imbibing, creates a little whirlpool in the glass that Jiraiya finds himself equally as mystified by as the question at hand. Oh, how he feels like he’d somehow been shrunk down and trapped in that boozy vortex, being spun endlessly around by a cruel and relentless hand! The unfortunate fact of the matter is, he has no idea what they’re really thinking while asking this, which is probably clear in the suspicious quirk of his eyebrow, and yet his own tipsiness is enough that despite gripping his glass a little tighter, he’ll rise to the challenge. 

He won’t let himself flounder and sweat, and he certainly won’t let whatever game was being played get under his skin… and yet it still rankles him enough that the atmosphere becomes tinged with a certain… frost.

Most of the time, he thought it was Tsunade that really had no problem hurting him. But times like this come as an unpleasant reminder that she simply isn’t as subtle about it as they are. She’s straightforward. She doesn’t test him. Whereas when it comes to Orochimaru, the needles come so subtly in the dead of night, in the form of some question or comment, and without even the moonlight to afford him that warning flash. He’s had it before, where a casual conversation somehow ends with him feeling like he’s fucked up—so it sets in rather quickly that there’s nothing cute or fun about this line of questioning whatsoever, for all he gives a hum of amusement into the next swig of sake, before setting his glass bluntly down again.

“Are you forgetting how not ordinary we are? Surely not, my dear friend,” the sage says coolly, in that irritatingly old-and-wise tone of his—the one reserved for moments of profound wisdom and bullshitting such as these. “What’s poison, after all, to the finest medic the world has ever seen? Or to a disciple of Ryūchidō whose blood is said to match that of the most deadly viper itself?”

That was one of the more wild rumours that had surrounded Orochimaru, for sure, but Jiraiya is ever one for playing up the mystery. He knows damn well they’re a B type—just like him, just like Tsunade. Sometimes he wonders whether that was a purposeful choice on Sensei’s part… or a grave oversight. Putting that matter aside in his mind, Jiraiya taps his chin thoughtfully, trying to maintain the illusion that this is a well-meaning expression of Orochimaru’s characteristic curiosity rather than a test of… well, he’s not sure what, because he refuses to ease up on the illusion, you see.

“Well, Tsunade’s more likely to save herself from a mortal wound,” he continues, inclining his head towards her, “and you’re more likely to evade an attack in the first place…” Having nodded towards Orochimaru, he stares somewhere above and between them for a moment. “As for me? Well I’m as tough as a cockroach, not to mention quite wily, aren’t I? But I’m only one guy. Can’t I say I’d send my body to one, and my protective shield of hair to the other? I’ve got about a hundred tricks that means I don’t hafta choose…”

It’s a cop-out, and he knows it. Plus, that illusion… it really isn’t holding up that well. He just knows that saying the wrong thing will get him in trouble, or perhaps even come across as some grave betrayal… and that includes refusing to give a conclusive answer.

One or the other, Jiraiya. Think about it, think about it—would saying I’d just off myself for the two of them be acceptable? No no, probably not…

“Urgh, fine. In a situation where there was absolutely no option, no wiles or nothin’ that would help, just straight up choosing… I guess I’d simply have to go for the least annoying one.” He shrugs matter-of-factly, then spares a sneering side-eye and irritating lean towards their dearest medic, who is fast nearing drunken belligerence. “Sorry Tsuna!~” 

His subsequent jolly guffawing is cut short with an ‘agh, ouch!’ as he is rather predictably socked in the arm for such a comment, not that Tsunade really seems to care. Mind games like this aren’t exactly her thing, and certainly not while drunk. In fact, in her drunkenness she slurs something or another about ‘not needin’ t’be saved by no-one, much less you, idjit’… which in part, may have impacted his choice to go that way at all. 

Because really, how does one answer such a question in all seriousness? And what would they say, more pertinently, if asked the same ruthlessly unfair question? They’d never know, because neither of them ever would. 

And Orochimaru should see it, how unfair it really is, in the way Jiraiya turns his teasing gaze from Tsunade to them—and how in that most minute of movements it takes to refocus his attention onto them, his overall demeanour shifts from merry to overcast, no matter how his lips try to hang on to that signature cheeky curl. There isn’t a particular message he’s trying to convey in that look, no specific reprimand or indication of exactly how serious his answer had been… just a certain wounded discomfort, marred with something else. Something that he himself can’t place, not even with the benefit of inhabiting his own thoughts.

What he does know, however, is that there’s certainly more truth in it than his skilfully casual approach to the answer, in the end, had let on… something that may not be as simple as a measure of love, which they were deviously trying to weed out of him, but of his fiery protectiveness for them in particular, which was admittedly a shade stronger than what he felt towards Tsunade. And maybe that is, in and of itself, reflective of his love for them… or, perhaps, what he feels he is to them. What value he has to them, in comparison to her. It’s far too much to figure out on such a pleasant night, the first in months, with the alcohol flowing and emotions hastily smothered beneath tall tales.

Whatever it is though, he just hopes that they recognise it somehow, lurking in his soft, subdued eyes, and that they’re satisfied.

[nami-writes]

Humans Don’t Come Back - Detroit: Become Human

i saw this fan art a while ago and, well, i couldn’t resist writing fanfiction based off of it bc i love connor but i also love hurting him, so that’s what i’m gonna do here. enjoy the feels B)

Numb.

Connor felt numb.

He was sitting on the bench in Riverside Park, two weeks after Hank’s death, and he felt nothing.

Or, rather, he felt something. He just couldn’t seem to let it through.

It reminded him of what being nothing but a machine had felt like. Feeling emotions, knowing he’s feeling them, but pushing and shoving them back down so they wouldn’t show. Fighting to hide them, to drown them and cover them up with only thoughts that related to his mission. It had almost become instinctual, his natural reaction to even the slightest signs of emotion; of deviancy.

He realized now that part of the reason why he did that was out of fear.

Fear of becoming deviant, fear of being found out, fear of being sent back and deactivated and destroyed and killed.

He’d always been afraid of feeling.

He remembered when Sumo died three years after the revolution. Soon after he moved in, Hank had made him see a therapist, another android, and helped him make progress on learning not to be so afraid of and opposed to feeling. Even if he didn’t know how to, he’d done his best to support him through anything and everything and he’d been the one to catch him whenever he fell too far.

But all of that progress had been lost when Connor first noticed the symptoms that Sumo was dying. Hank was in denial at first, but they had both known what was coming.

The following weeks, Connor had almost reverted back to how he’d previously been. Hank saw how he was so willing to do anything for him, from chores and housework to paperwork and reports and he’d let him do what he wanted for the first couple of days, but it didn’t take long for him to get fed up of ordering him around like he was still just a machine.

What he hadn’t seen, though, was Connor trying his hardest to keep himself together. Before, he’d built walls to keep emotions out and he’d been trying to break them down, but now, he was afraid of the negative emotions drowning out the positive ones. No emotions were better than too many negative emotions, so he needed something, anything to distract himself so the walls wouldn’t fall and crush him under their weight.

His therapist had told him he was suppressing his emotions as a coping mechanism but he still fought constantly to keep his LED blue so Hank wouldn’t worry, though it occasionally glinted yellow.

But when it came time to euthanize Sumo, he and Hank remained beside him and he couldn’t help his LED turning red.

He’d never dealt with loss before.

Before Hank and Sumo, he’d never been attached to anyone enough to be able to process the grief. And when he’d realized he was going to lose one of them... he’d had no idea how to handle it.

It wasn’t any different now.

No, that was wrong.

Now, his LED spun a constant yellow, flickering red every few seconds, because there was nobody to worry about it.

Now, he’d lost both of them.

Now, he had nothing else to lose.

What was left for him now?

Hank had put him in his will and left everything he had in Connor’s possession. Technically, he still had everything.

But losing Hank felt like he was left with nothing.

Sitting on the park bench, he began to reconstruct what had happened there a hundred years ago. He felt his LED flash red when he watched Hank’s outline form beside him but ignored it.

This memory wasn’t one of his favorites, but it was one way to remember him, and he would never let himself forget him. He remembered every part of it perfectly.

┌                                                                        ┐

       DATE: NOVEMBER 7, 2038            

       EVENT: COLE DISCUSSION & THREAT

       ◻ RECONSTRUCT           

└                                                                        ┘

    RECONSTRUCTION                   0/1 EVENTS

    INCOMPLETE                            ANALYZED

⍇ ▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭ ⍈

He watched his own outline walk up beside Hank’s and replayed the audio he’d saved from this exact moment.

“Nice view, huh?”

He looked out toward Ambassador Bridge, remembering how its lights had reflected faintly off the river. They were off now, but at night, they certainly did look nice.

“I used to come here a lot, before...”

Past Hank drank from the beer bottle he held in his hand and it hurt to watch. His alcoholism had been part of the reason he’d died sooner than he should’ve, at 153 years old, while the average life expectancy was 161-164. He’d convinced him to stop drinking after he moved in and made sure he took care of himself, but it seemed even that hadn’t been enough to reverse the effects of years of alcoholism and an unhealthy lifestyle.

He’d give anything to get those remaining 8 years with him.

Hell, he’d give anything to just get one more day with him. An hour would suffice. He’d even take a minute if he could.

“Before what?”

At the time, he’d guessed that Hank was referring to Cole’s death.

“Hm?”

“You said, ‘I used to come here a lot, before.’ Before what?”

He’d still chosen to tread carefully, as he knew it was a sensitive topic.

“Before...”

Hank had told him later on that this was one of the moments before the Cyberlife Tower incident where he really considered opening up.

“Before nothing.”

He watched himself turn to face him, crossing his arms hesitantly, unsure if his next question would be appropriate.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”

“Do all androids ask so many personal questions, or is it just you?” 

If it didn’t hurt so much just to remember Hank’s voice, he would’ve wanted to laugh at the sarcasm he remembered dripping from his voice.

“Why are you so determined to kill yourself?”

The question stung even him now, but he was just glad that wasn’t how he’d died.

“Some things I just can’t forget. Whatever I do, they’re always there, eating away at me. I don’t have the guts to pull the trigger, so I kill myself a little more every day.”

Hank’s outline turned to look at Connor’s.

“That’s probably pretty difficult for you to understand, huh, Connor? Nothing very rational about it.”

That was true; he hadn’t really understood at the time. But now, he understood better than he ever wished he could’ve.

He’d spent the past three weeks avoiding Hank’s room. Hell, he’d spent the past three weeks avoiding their house. Or... his house, now. He hadn’t been back in exactly two weeks, three days and eleven hours. Instead, he’d been walking around for days on end, just trying to distract himself, trying to get away from reality.

He’d considered staying with Markus for a couple of days, but decided against it. Markus had lost Carl three years prior, at 169 years old, and Connor didn’t want to worry him or be a burden on him. Besides, he didn’t need a place to stay. He could withstand the weather and he didn’t need to eat or sleep.

Markus had moved on two and a half years ago.

But Connor wasn’t strong like he was.

He was weak. Weak and pathetic. He couldn’t even go back home after three weeks because he couldn’t handle it.

He hadn’t even gone to any of his therapy sessions because he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

All he could do was walk around, seeing the exact same things over and over again, in a feeble attempt to stop the memory from replaying in his head on a constant, never-ending loop.

He hated how having a perfect memory allowed him to remember everything exactly.

”Hank? Are you awake yet?” Connor called from the living room, sitting on the couch with the TV on. By this time, he was usually up already and making coffee for himself, but sometimes he slept in, especially because of how old he complained about being. However, Connor had made it his responsibility to make sure he maintained a regular sleep schedule.

He got no response.

He sighed and stood up. “TV off.” Hank was lucky he’d retired a decade ago. If not, he’d have been late for work today. Connor had stayed, though, and, throughout the years, worked his way up the ranks to a Commander. He still had a couple minutes before he had to leave for work, though, so he’d take the time to wake him up. Besides, he needed to change into his uniform. He could do that after he woke up Hank.

He made his way to Hank’s room and knocked on the door, just in case he was awake. “Hank?”

Still no response. Definitely asleep.

But he had a strange feeling. A bad feeling.

He opened the door and saw Hank laying in bed, but—something was wrong.

He wasn’t breathing.

He took a few hesitant steps inside, as if he couldn’t believe what his systems were telling him, then ran to his side. ”Hank—no, no, Hank, come on!”

He felt for his pulse.

Nothing.

His LED was solid red and he could already feel the artificial tears building up quickly, threatening to spill at any moment. His systems were operating as fast as he could make them; he showed no signs of movement, he wasn’t breathing, and he had no heartbeat. He’d died about ten minutes ago so CPR had a 0% chance of making any difference and neither did any of the other forms of medical assistance he had registered.

He’d been gone too long for anything to bring him back.

”No—no, no, no, come on, please—please don’t go, Hank, I-I don’t—I can’t—“ His voice broke and he finally broke with it.

He shook himself out of the memory. He didn’t want to remember the rest. He didn’t want to remember how pathetic he’d been, how broken he’d been when an ambulance finally arrived.

He could still feel the same devastation and fear and dread he’d felt when he found his body. He still remembered the desperation, how he wanted so badly for there to be some way, any way to save him, to bring him back, but he knew it was hopeless.

It had been three weeks, and he could still feel the sorrow and anguish he’d felt the moment he’d realized that Hank was truly gone.

All he wanted right now was for Hank to hold him in his arms and tell him it was gonna be okay.

But humans didn’t come back.

Maybe that was why he was walking down the empty street where the Chicken Feed food truck had stood for over a century. Of course, the owner, Gary Kayes, had died, even before Hank did, despite being three years younger. Connor had been there to help Hank cope with his death. Nobody had been around for a long time to replace him, so it remained abandoned in the same spot it’d been in before the revolution.

He scanned the area and a single information tab appeared on the sidewalk. When his eyes flicked over to it, it expanded.

┌                                                               ┐

       DATE: NOVEMBER 12, 2038    

       EVENT: FIRST HUG FROM HANK

       ◻ RECONSTRUCT           

└                                                               ┘

    RECONSTRUCTION                   0/1 EVENTS

    INCOMPLETE                             ANALYZED

⍇ ▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭ ⍈

Hank had hugged him often after the revolution, but this one had always been his favorite because it had been the first.

His LED flickered to red when he saw Hank’s figure again but he ignored it. Instead, as he played the reconstruction, he retraced his steps exactly; a futile attempt to make the memory seem at least a little bit realer. He still remembered Hank’s smile; the first real, genuine smile he’d seen from him. Hell, it might’ve been the first smile in general he’d seen from him.

He watched Hank’s outline take a few hesitant steps toward him, then stop.

Then, as the outline approached him and closed the distance between them, Connor closed his eyes and tried to let himself believe that, even if for just a moment, this was real.

[rhetoricalrogue]

It’s Tuesday and my brain is mush from an exceptionally hectic workday. Have some decompression headcanons.

Zoe

Spends every Friday night at the Rust Bucket to hang out with her best friend/former high school boyfriend/partner in crime named Harry who owns the place. Has her designated bar stool at the far end under the speakers that everyone knows not to sit in and an ashtray with her name engraved on it. Harry did it as a gag gift, but she told him to keep it there for her instead.

Once she stops smoking, she uses the ashtray to hold peanuts in. Harry can tell when she’s stressed when she dumps them out, but he switched to peanuts in the shell so she keeps her hands busy and doesn’t think about reaching for a pack of cigarettes she no longer carries around. Bonus is that she works her aggression out by shelling them, so win-win.

Harry’s son plays in a band and coincidentally, has a standing gig in his dad’s bar every Friday night (unless it’s a football night since the bassist is on the team) occasionally Zoe will jump onstage to play a set with them. Usually a “please, Aunt Zo” will get her to sing a song or two. Unit Bravo has not witnessed this. Yet. She doesn’t know about the time Adam poked his head in and saw her belting out an Evanescence cover, but he’s not going to tell anyone.

Rowena

Has a standing Saturday night appointment to be the entertainment for the local bar and grill. She either plays piano by herself and takes requests from the crowd or she’ll do a dueling piano performance with the music teacher at Wayhaven High from about 7 pm until 10 pm. They don’t get paid in money, but the bottomless appetizers and free drinks are worth it. Her favorite thing is to do 80s hits in ragtime.

Has entered a drinking contest and won. Farah was her hype gal behind her the entire time and Morgan won so much money in the betting pool that she bought Rowena a hangover breakfast the next day as thanks.

Has drawers full of cute pjs, but will usually sleep in short running shorts and old Wayhaven PD t-shirts. Doesn’t know if she or Nate was more flustered the first time he saw her in that outfit with her hair piled up in a messy bun and her reading glasses on, but she wasn’t complaining about the flirting that happened afterwards.

Aubrey

Everyone thinks she’s super classy and professional, but her old dance partner Tony came into town for a visit and that image went out the window. She’s able to be herself with him and fully unwind without even realizing she’s doing it. They’re basically platonic soulmates who clicked the instant they were introduced to the other and have been the other’s dance partner for over ten years.

Adam’s “I broke something because I cannot verbally express myself” counter goes off the charts when Farah pulls up an extremely sexy pas de deux Aubrey did with Tony that Aubrey offhandedly mentions is the whole reason the entertainment tabloids thought she and Tony were a couple. It’s a quick mention that she doesn’t think anything else of and goes more into how it was one of the more technically challenging dances she’s done since she had to be so bendy. “Yeah, it was really weird making out with my best friend onstage in front of hundreds of strangers, but we’re professionals. Anyway, the costumes were so pretty!”/“Aubs, were you naked?”/“No, that’s a skintone leotard and tights under the see-through negligee...Hey, I liked that throw pillow, Adam!”

Tony’s grandma is an honest to goodness Italian witch who’s aware of the Agency’s existence and the existence of other supernaturals. This is why Tony, who always listens to his favorite Nona (especially her lessons on identifying supernatural beings), gives Unit Bravo the biggest side eye when Aubrey introduces them, even though he doesn’t say anything and is as polite as can be since he can tell Aubrey is trying to keep something from him. This is also why when Aubrey is in another room, he squares up with Adam and “look, I know all of you are vampires and you can snap me like a twig with your pinky finger if you wanted to, but Aubs is my best friend and the closest thing to a sister that I have. You hurt her and I will stake you and then get my grandma to curse your ass from here to eternity, got it?”

When Tony leaves from his weekend visit, he’s convinced that a) his best friend is trying her best to hide the fact that she’s working with a secret agency from him, and b) Aubrey is completely in love with Adam. As Tony’s saying his goodbyes, he’s pretty much looking at Adam like

[incomprehensiblelentils]

@swiftjolras tagged me in this fic writer meme, thanks buddy! Also because B and I do a lot of cowriting, I’m going to try to stick to the ones that only I have written for this meme. I guess if somebody wants I can do one about our cowritten stuff separately...? but I feel like this is a fair restriction.

Name: Megan

Fandoms: I mean. Do you want my like, current fandoms I write for or all the fandoms I’ve written for EVER? Actually the latter might be fun let’s do that! I think of my fanfic writing life as having 3 phases: the stuff I wrote when I was a little kid and didn’t know what fanfic was (Winnie the Pooh, Aladdin); the stuff I wrote as a middle/high schooler on ff.net (Cyberchase, The Princess Diaries, The Incredibles, LOTR, X-Men, Pirates of the Caribbean); and the stuff I’ve posted on AO3 in college and beyond (Doctor Who, Dollhouse, Alphas, RPF*, MCU - particularly Agents of SHIELD and Daredevil, Firefly, Once Upon a Time, Kingsman, Wreck-it-Ralph, Terminator: Dark Fate). I actually used to be a BNF in Incredibles fandom, which is hilarious in retrospect as my fic was very bad BUT it was an incredible ego boost for a fourteen-year-old who loved writing! At the moment I mostly write for SHIELD and Dark Fate, with detours into other random gay shit as I feel like it.

*cancel me for my T-rated stories from 2013 I DARE YOU

Where You Post: my AO3 is here and I have a writing blog here that I link stuff from although I’m bad at updating it lol

Most Popular One-Shot: According to hits, by a hair it’s you are the ditch I tumbled into running blind, the first Skimmons fic I ever wrote AND the first Skimmons fic posted on AO3. Although my high school AU has a couple hundred more kudos. They are both 7 years old! That’s wild.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: Again, taking out mallverse which is cowritten and would be the obvious winner at over 40k hits over 6 years, it’s and for once you let go of your fears and your ghosts, which is my Victoria/Isabelle fix-it. It has over 800 hits and 47 kudos, which for a femslash ship in this fandom that isn’t popular at all is pretty damn good! (I wish it was my Kara fix-it, but what can you do when fandom is bad lol.)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: I talk about say you will, the Endgame Natasha/Laura fix-it, a lot, because it took me months to write and was born out of not only my hatred of Endgame but years of pent-up anger and frustration at how Natasha is treated in both canon and fandom. It’s probably my most personal fic - I wrote it as both a redemptive tribute for this character that I’ve loved for almost a decade and a goodbye to her. I got to fill in the blanks of Laura’s character that canon didn’t bother to address, and I made all three Barton kids autistic and gave them all traits that I and my brother and my friends have. I also had to write a lot of very uncomfortable emotions that I haven’t really dealt with in my writing too much and that was interesting and challenging. I know it won’t ever get the attention I’d like it to, but I still love it so much.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: lol all the Terminator porn, I’m not linking it again, y’all can find it, porn is scary bye

How You Choose Your Titles: I am shameless and steal lyrics. Terminator fics all have Carly Rae Jepsen lyrics, I also use TSwift and Marian Call a lot.

Complete: 50 exactly! And a couple dozen more I cowrote with B as well (mostly one-shots).

Incomplete: 5, at least one of which I should really go back and mark complete just because it’s a billion years old and I’ll probably never go back to it lol. But Three Lawyers and a Little Lady will definitely get updated someday because I love my Daredevil Accidental Baby Acquisition AU! And I have a shitton ongoing that B and I are working on together as well.

Do You Outline: Not usually for one-shots, but like, I ran into a real problem with say you will where I kept thinking of scenes that needed to be added and having to write them, and there were a couple of scenes that I had to sort of Frankenstein in because I’d written them early on and I wanted to include them real bad but they didn’t “technically” fit anywhere (I wonder if readers can tell lol). So I try to outline for long-running stuff because if I don’t it just goes extremely off the rails.

Coming Soon / Not Yet Started: I am in the middle of two right now: a Star Wars Jannah/Rose horse girls fic where they bond while riding orbaks and also kiss, and Halt and Catch Fire Donna/Cameron where Donna drags Cam to a PFLAG meeting to try and figure out how to talk to her lesbian daughter and everyone thinks they’re a couple (spoiler: they don’t know they are yet). These are the random gay shit detours I mentioned earlier. More on brand, I have at least one more Terminator porn in my brain and also a fluffy one where Grace proposes to Dani and Carl officiates their wedding. OH I FORGOT i was supposed to write a Charlie’s Angels 2019 fic where Sabina brought home a dog and the other two were like ????. I feel like that one will be pretty easily once I just sit down and do it because their voices seem pretty straightforward

Do You Accept Prompts: Um, I’m not like...I don’t want to say I’ll never do prompts, I once wrote Steve/Bucky as quarterback/cheerleader AU because my friend asked me to. But I don’t typically solicit them. The shit I like writing is usually way too random for people to think of lol.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited To Write: This is a someday-fic, but I swear I will write an epic redemption story for my beloved monster child Ruby Hale where she lives and becomes the Zuko of the group and also Daisy’s weird little protege and she and Elena are never like, close, and Elena doesn’t have to forgive her, and that’s okay. I just feel like they set her up as a perfect Ward foil and then really dropped the ball.

tagging uhhhh @unwind-myself @swashbucklery @amidalleia @allofthefeelings I forget which of my friends write fanfic anymore lololol if I tag you in this and you don’t VERY SORRY MY BAD also like, if you want to do this and pretend I tagged you please do!

[fortheheavenssake]

💜💜 PG MM Anon(II) 💜💜 Interpretation Collection - 6

36. June 03

MM ANON …… 2020 another royal baby ………… development in Portugal ……… more charges eminent Minnesota ……… a wet summer ………… ISS a strange smell? ……… … London protests …………NAACP……… size 12 , and the shoes 👠 ……………” mummy , mummy- goes viral ………” we’ll old thing, I wasn’t expecting that ending “……… “ so enjoyable Philip ‘ anymore Sydney?……… “ I think Catherine has Peaky-Blinders ma’am” …… “ is it a bit GBH ? “ ……… “ yes ma’am”……… “Ohhhh goody”.

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻☺️☺️THANK YOU MM ANON☺️☺️🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

JUNE 3/2020. RIDDLE#36

KIDS I WAS AHEAD ONE NUMBER IN THE RIDDLE THANKS TO @fortheheavenssake WHO KEEPS ME ORGANIZED. SO YOU WILL SEE #36 AGAIN TODAY AS IT IS THE CORRECT NUMBER OF RIDDLE

2020 another royal baby

AS I HAVE BEEN POSTULATING SINCE LAST NOVEMBER 🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 I FULLY BELIEVE CATHERINE IS PREGNANT, AND LOCKDOWN WAS PERFECT TIME TO DEAL WITH HER HG SYMPTOMS AND APPEAR ON CAMERA NECK UP, SO NO BABY BUMP TO BE NOTICED OR HIDDEN. ALSO WE HAVE PRINCESS EUGENIE, ALTHOUGH TECHNICALLY THE BABY WOULD NOT HAVE A ROYAL STATUS. ZARA IS NOT TITLED SO HER CHILDREN TECHNICALLY ARE NOT ROYAL. DEPENDS HOW LOOSELY USED THE TERM, ROYAL IS. FOR MY PART I WOULD BE TRIPLE EXCITED IF THEY ALL HAD LITTLE ONES!!

………… development in Portugal ………

HUGE BREAKING NEWS IN THE 13YEAR OLD UNRELENTING PURSUIT BY THE MCCANNS AND THE POLICE TO FIND DEAR LITTLE MADELEINE, WHO VANISHED FROM THEIR VACATION ROOM IN PORTUGAL ONE EVENING. YOU ALL KNOW THE STORY. I HAVE FOLLOWED THIS CLOSELY FOR YEARS🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻. THE MCCANNS HAVE BEEN TO HELL AND BACK AGAIN, SO THEY HAVE. TODAY THE REVELATION THAT A MALE GERMAN NATIONAL, CURRENTLY INCARCERATED IN GERMANY, IS A MAIN SUSPECT. GOD PLEASE LET HER BE ALIVE BUT EITHER WAY PLEASE THE MCCANNS NEED TO KNOW WHERE THEIR GIRL IS, SHE WOULD BE 17 NOW .

more charges eminent Minnesota ………

THEY HAVE ANNOUNCED NEW CHARGES AGAINST THE OFFICERS WHO MURDERED MR. GEORGE FLOYD. UPGRADED FROM 3RD DEGREE TO 2ND MURDER AGAINST THE MAIN OFFICER WHO KEPT HIS KNEE ON HIS NECK. THE OTHER THREE ARE CHARGED WITH ACCESSORY TO MURDER. AS OF NOW AS I KNOW, ONE IS IN CUSTODY, THE OTHER TWO WILL SOON BE. ESPECIALLY DAMNING, ONE OF THE OFFICERS IN THE VIDEO TRIED TO VERBALLY SAY, HEY EASE UP OR SOMETHING SIMILAR.

a wet summer …………

BEER IS SOON TO BE FLOWING AGAIN IN U.K. BARS. THE BREWERIES IN THE U.K. ARE FILLING MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF KEGS IN ANTICIPATION OF BARS REOPENING. THE NORMAL DRUNK PHOTOS IN THE DM EACH WEEKEND WERE BAD ENOUGH. AFTER MONTHS OF NOT GOING OUT , OH IT IS GOING TO BE ONE MASSIVE BENDER.🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. NO MORE DRY WEEKENDS.

ISS a strange smell? ……… …

I DO NOT THINK ITS SMELL AS IN SCENT, BUT SMELL AS IN SOMETHING IS OFF. THE INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION HAS BEEN DOCKED A FEW DAYS AGO. THE DOCKING HAPPENED OVER CHINA. THEY ARE SAYING THIS WAS A TECHNOLOGICAL ISSUE NOT POLITICAL. I SOMEHOW DO NOT THINK CHINA AGREES. I DO NOT THINK THEY APPRECIATE HAVING THAT SHOVED IN THEIR FACE, BUT IT WAS NOT DONE PURPOSEFULLY. THATS THEIR STORY AND THEY’RE STICKING TO IT, TO QUOTE SONG LYRICS🤣🤣🤣😂😂.

London protests …………NAACP………

NAACP, IN AMERICA, IS THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF COLOURED PEOPLE. THIS ORGANIZATION HAS BEEN VERY ACTIVE IN CIVIL RIGHTS IN AMERICA ESPECIALLY IN THE 1969’S THINGS REALLY BECAME NATIONAL. STILL VERY ACTIVE ARE NUMEROUS SIMILAR ORGANIZATIONS. THIS HORRIFIC MURDER HAS BROUGHT PROTESTS WORLDWIDE. THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS IN HYDE PARK TODAY IN LONDON. HEADS TOGETHER HAS COME OUT IN SUPPORT OF BLM, BLACK LIVES MATTER. NO JUSTICE NO PEACE, YOU OFTEN HEAR SAID.

size 12 , and the shoes 👠 ……………” mummy , mummy- goes viral ……

I CAN SEE CATHERINE PLANNING OUTFITS AS LOCKDOWN IS PHASING DOWN OR IS UP THE RIGHT WORD? EITHER WAY SHE NEEDS TO PLAN A FULL LENGTH WARDROBE FOR WHEN ENGAGEMENTS RESUME. EVENTWO YEARS PREGNANT SHE IS NOT A SIZE 12? BUT NO WAY NO HOW IS SHE OR HER FEET A SIZE 12.

SEEING THAT RED SHOE REMINDS ME OF THE ARTICLE , TODAY OR WAS IT YESTERDAY, HMTQ’S SHOES FOR HER CORONATION. SHE HAD ACTUAL RUBY SLIPPERS. GOLD SHOES AND HEELS COVERED IN RUBIES. THE FRENCH SHOE COMPAN6 HAS PARTNERED WITH ANOTHER COMPANY AND RELEASED A COLLECTOR SHOE GOLD, RED AND BLACK I THINK. RHINESTONES OR SWAROVSKI CRYSTALS NO RUBIES.

TIK TOK IS ANNOYING, PARENTS AND GRANDPARENTS YOU HAVE MY SYMPATHIES🤣🤣😂😂😂. THE “SONG” MUMMY MUMMY, TO CALL IT A SONG, I INSULT MUSICAL ARTISTS🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. ALL OVER TIK TOK AND YOUTUBE ENDLESSLY. I THINK I COULD TOLERATE IT, IF AND ONLY IF , ALL THREE CAMBRIDGE CHILDREN DID IT😁😁😁😁.

…” we’ll old thing, I wasn’t expecting that ending “……… “ so enjoyable Philip ‘ anymore Sydney?……… “ I think Catherine has Peaky-Blinders ma’am” …… “ is it a bit GBH ? “ ……… “ yes ma’am”……… “Ohhhh goody”.

BACK TO THE SITTING ROOM AT WINDSOR CASTLE. SOUNDS LIKE THEY FINISHED BINGE WATCHING THE SOPRANOS BECAUSE NOBODY, N O B O D Y EXPECTED THAT STUPID ENDING. HOWEVER THE SERIES WAS AWESOME AND THEY ENJOYED. HMTQ ASKING SYDNEY IF HE HAS ANYMORE DVD SETS. CATHERINE HAS PEAKY BLINDERS ON DVD THEY WILL LIKE THAT. BRITISH DRAMA ABOUT A REAL LIFE GANG IN THE EARLY PART OF THE 20TH CENTURY. HMTQ IS ASKING IF ITS FUNNY IE GOOD BRITISH HUMOUR OR GREAT 🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. GOOD RESULTS. DRINKS SYDNEY, MM ANON FORGOT TO ADD COCKTAILS SO ITS MY JOB TO MAKE SURE THEY HAVE THEIR DRINKS😁😁😁

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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37. June 4

MM ANON ……MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt 💓………… the Tatler connection ………… 🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼………… MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4……………… 14 days to binge. ……… a Russian contamination …………vaccine summit ……… ”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 4/2020. RIDDLE#37

MM ANON ……MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt💓………… the Tatler connection ………… 🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼………… MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4……………… 14 days to binge. ……… a Russian contamination …………vaccine summit ……… ”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

*Entertainment purposes

MM heartfelt acting……… W&K just heartfelt 💓…………

UNTIL NOW, THE WOKE, ACTIVIST HUMANITARIAN HAS REMAINED SILENT ABOUT A POLICE MURDER OF AN UNARMED BLACK MAN IN HER OWN COUNTRY. ISSUES SHE HAS CLAIMED TO CHAMPION AND CLUNG TO FOR SYMPATHY FROM HER SUGARS AND USED AS AN EXCUSE AGAINST HER UNFAIR TREATMENT , AS SHE PERCEIVED IT TO BE, BY THE U.K. MEDIA, PEOPLE ETC ETC. THE WORLD BY THE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS, DESPITE A PANDEMIC, HAVE TAKEN TO THE STREETS TO MARCH. ALONG WITH SOME BAD ACTORS WHO LOOT CAUSE VIOLENCE ARE NOT THERE FOR THE RIGHT REASONS. TODAY, IN A VIDEO TO THE GRADUATING CLASS OF HER FORMER SCHOOL, SHE FINALLY COMMENTED. “The only wrong thing to say is to say nothing.” STOLEN VERSION OF THE MUCH ACCLAIMED LINE, EVIL FLOURISHES WHEN GOOD MEN STAND BY AND DO NOTHING. THE ORIGIN OF THIS HAS MULTIPLE ATTRIBUTIONS . WOW YOU CAN JUST FEEL HER PASSION FOR THIS ISSUE EH? NOT NOT NOT . WHAT A HYPOCRITE.

THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE HAVE SPOKEN OIT VIA THEIR HEADS TOGETHER PLATFORM PUTTING THE FULL SUPPORT OF BLM, BLACK LIVES MATTER. THIS IS A MASSIVE ORGANIZATION AND HUGE SUPPORT FOR BLM.

the Tatler connection

ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME IS THE SAYING AS IS WE ARE ALL SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION FROM EACH OTHER. HERE WE HAVE THE GARBAGE MAGAZINE ,TATLER. MADAMS BESTIE JM SISTER VM HAS WORKED AT THE RAG AND HAS LOTS OF CONNECTIONS THERE. THAT IS ONLY TWO OR THREE DEGREES OF SEPARATION FROM CATHERINE, DEPENDING HOW YOU DO THE MATH. IT IS NOT HARD TO PUT THE PIECES TOGETHER AND FIGURE OUT THE GENESIS OF THESE AND SO MANY OTHER LIES ABOUT OUR BELOVED CAMBRIDGES. FURIOUS IS HOW I FEEL. USING CHILDREN, HOW LOW AND EVIL.!!

🎼stormy weather …………… 🎼…………

PORGY AND BESS, CLASSIC BREAKTHROUGH PLAY AND FILM , FROM THE 1940’S. IT WAS GROUNDBREAKING , WITH AN ENTIRE BLACK CAST AND AMAZING MUSIC SUCH IS THE CLASSIC SONG, STORMY WEATHER. THE LYRICS ARE A WOMAN BEMOANING THE FACTS THAT SHE SND HER MAN ARE NOT TOGETHER AND THE SONG STORMY WEATHER AS A METAPHOR FOR THE DIRECTION THEIR LIVES HAVE TAKEN. THE MARVELLOUS LENA HORNE, FABULOUS. WE ARE IN THE STORMIEST OF STORMY WEATHER IN 2020. THE CHAOS, VOLATILITY, AND GRACIOUS, WILL COVID-19 SPIKE IN TWO WEEKS TIME AFTER EXPOSURE BY INNUMERABLE PEOPLE PROTESTING HUDDLED TOGETHER.

THE FORMER HEAD OF MI6, ALONG WITH ANOTHER RESEARCHER. HOW I WISH I COULD RECALL THEIR NANES BUT I READ IT DURING THE NIGHT . THEY OPINED THAT THIS VIRUS HAS ADDED DNA CHAINS THAT POI NT TO IT BEING A. MANMADE VIRUS. POSTULATING, IT WAS ACCIDENTALLY LET OUT BY BREAK IN PROCEDURE OR WHATEVER REASON IN WUHAN CHINA. OF NOTE, THE ONLY LEVEL FOUR LAB IN CHINA, IS IN WUHAN. THERE ARE MANY SUCH LABS WORLDWIDE. THEY KEEP SAMPLES OF ALL THE VIRUSES, BACTERIA KNOWN TO EXIST. LEVEL FOUR BEING THE MOST DANGEROUS ONES AND LETHAL ONES. LOTS OF RESEARCH GOES ON. I LIVE NEAR ONE.

MadDog…………2nd degree. X 4………………

MADDOG, HOW HE HATES AND ABHORS THAT NICKNAME. POTUS KEPT USING THAT NICKNAME BEFORE AND AFTER APPOINTING HIM SECDEF. GENERAL MATTHIAS WES SECDEF (SECRETARY OF DEFENSE) UNDER POTUS UNTIL HE RESIGNED. HE STATED HE WOULD NEVER MAKE A PUBLIC STATEMENT ABOUT POTUS EVER. WELL THAT CHANGED THIS WEEK AFTER GOVERNMENT OFFICERS, NATIONAL GUARD, AND A GENERAL IN FULL MILITARY FATIGUES WALKED WITH POTUS IN A NON MILITARY ZONE. VARIOUS GOVERNMENT AGENCIES, NATIONAL GUARD, SECRET SERVICE, LAW ENFORCEMENT AND OTHERS CLEARED THE PEACEFUL PROTESTORS AWAY, SO POTUS AND OTHERS COULD WALK TO THE CHURCH THAT HAD BEEN ON FIRE MONDAY NIGHT. IT WAS CALLED A PHOTO OP BY SOME AND AGAINST THEIR RIGHTS TO PEACEFUL PROTEST, I THINK THATS THE FOURTH AMENDMENT RIGHT.

ALL FOUR OFFICERS HAVE BEEN CHARGED, BOOKED AND IN CUSTODY ON A MILLION DOLLAR BOND EACH ONE. MURDER TWO FOR THE KNEE ON NECK OFFICER, THE OTHER THREE AIDING AND ABETTING MURDER. I AM NOT TYPING THEIR NAME ON PURPOSE.

14 days to binge. ………

ODD ODD ODD, NEW LAW WILL COME INTO EFFECT IN THE U.K., THOSE ENTERING THE U.K. WILL HAVE TO SELF ISOLATE FOR FOURTEEN DAYS, HOWEVER, IT IS MY UNDERSTANDING THEY CAN GOLF AND DO STUFF LIKE THAT. UNLESS I MISREAD THE ARTICLE YESTERDAY.

I THINK THIS IS MORESO THE COUNTDOWN IS ON FOR A MASSIVE BENDER WHEN THE BARS OPEN AND PEOPLE CAN BINGE OF FOOD AND MORE IMPORTANTLY DRINK. I CAN ONLY IMAGINE THE PHOTOS. THE DM WILL RUN. PAPER SAYING BREWERIES AIMING TO HAVE 250,000,000 YES MILLION PINTS DELIVERED IN THE NEXT TWO WEEKS!!!

a Russian contamination …………

MOSCOWS MAYOR ANNOUNCED TODAY SOME THINGS ARE REOPENING, NON FOOD STORES SND SOME OTHER BUSINESSES ARE BEING ALLOWED TO REOPEN ALONG WITH BEGINNING TO USE PARKS AND OUTDOOR SPACES AS WELL.

RUSSIA Is ALSO STARTING A NEW DRUG TO TREAT THE VIRUS , CALLED AVIFAVIR, NEXT WEEK. IT IS BEING HERALDED AS A “GAME CHANGER”.

THERE ARE ARTICLES CLAIMING THAT RUSSIA, LIKE CHINA US NIT REPORTING ACCURATE NUMBERS TO THE WHO.

vaccine summit ………

THE VIRTUAL G7 YOUTH SUMMIT IS BEING HELD NOW, JUNE 3-5/2020, ONE YOUNG WORLD. ALL SORTS OF DISCUSSIONS THERE ON THIS ISSUE AND OTHERS.

THERE ARE SO MANY ANTI-VACCERS. LOOK AT KAT VON D. SHE HAD A MASSIVE CONTRACT WITH SEPHORA FOR A MAKEUP LINE. IT WAS HUGELY MASSIVELY POPULAR. IF YOU DONT KNOW, KAT VON D HAD A PART ABD THEN HER OWN REALITY SHOW ABOUT HER TATTOO SHOP. SHE IS TATTED HEAD TO TOE. ANYHOW SHE HAD A BABY, THEN ON HER SOCIAL MEDIA SHE CAME OUT HARD AS AN ANTIVACCER. HER FANS REACTED WILDLY GIVING HER THE NAME KAT VON DISEASE. SALES PLUMMETED. SHE IS NO LONG WITH SEPHORA. THE LINE IS THERE BUT ITS CALLED KVD VEGAN BUT SHE GETS NO MONEY.

”that’s a terrible selfie Philip, it’ll frighten her” ………” let Sydney do it!! “ ……… “take one together ma’am” ……… “ give me the bloody thing !! “ …… bloody tic-toc “ ………… “ one zooms” ……… “get him some refreshments Sydney”

AGAIN FAVOURITE PART OF THE RIDDLES, WE GET A PEAK INTO THE SITTING ROOM AT WC, WINDSOR CASTLE. OH MY. HIMSELF US FIDDLING WITH EMOJIS, TIK TOK, FACES, ADDONS THINGAMAJIGGIES, BECAUSE I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT THEY ARE CALLED🤣🤣🤣😂😂. I AM NOT TECHNOLOGICALLY “WOKE”🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂🤪🤪🤪🤪. CAN YOU ENVISION THIS, HIMSELF TAKING SELFIES AND MAKING FACES🥳🥳🥳😄😄🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. HMTQ IS NOT HAVING THAT AND WANTS EVER PATIENT SYDNEY TO TAKE THE PHOTOS. HE SUGGESTS A CANDID PHOTO IF THE COUPLE TOGETHER IN THEIR CHILLING OUT CLOTHES WHILE BINGE WATCHING DVDS 📀. HIMSELF IS MUTTERING, FIDDLING WITH TIK TOK, MUMBLING ABOUT ZOOM MEETINGS THAT TECHNOLOGY. LAMENTING ALL THE NEW WAYS OF CONNECTING THAT HAVE BECOME SO VALUED DURING OUR LOCKDOWN. AFTER ALL THIS, THEY NEED THEIR COCKTAILS. HMTQ THINKS HIMSELF NEEDS A WEE BEVVIE TO CHILL OUT. THE USUAL BODDINGTONS FOR HIM, GIN AND DuBONNET FOR HMTQ 🍺 🍸, CHEERS .☺️☺️😊😊😊☺️☺️

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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38. June 6

MM ANON …… never look a gift bandwagon in the mouth…… everyone is crawling out the woodwork ……… “I’m covert 19 , fly me” ……… M&H on the March??? ………… over 40,000………… flight attendant/ ……… the dodgy R…………… mandatory masks ………… The Amazon too ??? ………… online celebrity … “ There here Philip “ …………” one has to distance darlings “ …… “ yes there lovely shoes” ……… “ look Philip, live tic-toc “………” it’s wonderful wonderful “ ………… “amazing, he’s shot up “ ………” shall we have a little refreshments?”

*Entertainment purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

June 6/2020

RIDDLE FROM JUNE 5/2020. RIDDLE #38

SO SORRY I WAS NOT AROUND YESTERDAY I HAVE BEEN SO EXHAUSTED, SO HERE IT IS.

… never look a gift bandwagon in the mouth

EVERY POSSIBLE COMPANY, AGENCY, WHATEVER YOU WANTTO CALL IT, HAS HOPPED ONTO THE BLM, BANDWAGON. ONLY WORD USED TO , IN OLDEN DAYS WHEN SALESMEN WENT TOWN TO TOWN THEY WOULD HAVE MUSIC TO ANNOUNCE THEIR ARRIVAL IN TOWN. NOW, IT IS SIMPLY A CURRENT HOT BUTTON ISSUE MANY JOIN IN SINCERE BELIEF BUT OFTEN OTHERS AND CORPORATIONS DO IT, SIMPLY TO GET PR AND HOPEFULLY GOOD PR. MAKE THEM LOOK ALL HIP, SHINY AND MODERN.

WELL MADAM BIDED HER TIME, OH YOU CLEVER THING RACHEL. YOU WAITED UNTIL PEOPLE WERE ASKING WHY SHE WAS SILENT AND AFTER MOST BIG CELEBS HAD SPOKEN OUT. THEN BAM! OUT COMES HER VIDEO. I COULD NOT STOMACHE WATCHING ITS ENTIRETY. I WILL NOT GO ON ABOUT IT BUT SUFFICE TO SAY, MORE 🗑GARBAGE.AND LIES.

everyone is crawling out the woodwork ………

THIS SAYING MEANS A HUGE PUBLIC ISSUES AND EVERYONE WANTS THEIR FIFTEEN MINUTES OF FAME BACK. PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT RELEVANT OR ONCE WERE, ARE LIKE ROACHES CRAWLING OUT IN THE DARK TO ADD THEIR UNASKED FOR OR UNNEEDED OPINION. THIS HAPPENS EVERYTIME THERE IS A BIG PUBLIC ISSUE.

“I’m covert 19 , fly me” ……… flight attendant/

COVERT19, NOT COVID-19. SOMEONE IS FLYING AN AIRLINE WITH SYMPTOMS BUT NOT TRUTHFUL ABOUT. IS THIS PUBLIC? I KNOW WHEN THINGS FURST STARTED MANY PEOPLE LIED ABOUT WHERE THEY HAD BEEN, HOW THEY WERE FEELING.MANY PEOPLE BUCKED THE FOURTEEN DAYS QUARANTINE. I HEARD OF A WEDDING , FROM ONE OF MY FRIENDS. THEY HAD 250 THERE IN THEIR FARMYARD. I GUESS SOMEONE CALLED LAW ENFORCEMENT.EVERY ONE OF THOSE 250 PEOPLE RECEIVED A $1,000.00 FINE. QUART MILLION DOLLAR WEDDING. I WONDER IF IT WAS WORTH IT. AS WELL. KIDS YOU KNOW I USE THAT WORD COVERT ALOT DESCRIBING HARRYS MISSION AS OVERT COVERT.

QUICK GOOGLE SEARCH BRINGS THIS, NOT SURE IF ITS RELEVANT , BUT , INSAW THE CLUE FLIGHT ATTENDANT/FURTHER DOWN SO I SHALL COMBINE. PLUS ITS A MARVELLOUS FEEL GOOD STORY. THE CEO OF AA, AMERICAN AIRLINES,IS FLYING COMPETITOR AIRLINE SOUTHWEST, WHICH IS GREAT BY THE WAY, IN MY PAST EXPERIENCE. ANYHOW HE WAS READING A BOOK WHICH CAUGHT THE FLIGHT ATTENDANTS ATTENTION, CALLED WHITE FRAGILITY. THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT IS BLACK.CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THE CURRENT APPROPRIATE WORD TO USE, IS IT BLACK OR AFRICAN AMERICAN. MANY POC ARE FROM PLACES OTHER THAN AFRICA. MY FAMILY MEMBERS SOME ARE FROM ST. LUCIA. ANYHOW PLEASE LET ME KNOW. ANYHOW THIS EVENT WAS MADE PUBLIC AND TURNED INTO A REALLY BEAUTIFUL MOMENT AND CONVERSATION ABOUT THE ISSUES PEOPLE ARE MARCHING ABOUT.

M&H on the March??? …………

ALL THESE VARIOUS SCHEDULED MARCHES ARE TO CONTINUE WHICH MEANS UNSCHEDULED ONES WILL AS WELL. ARE MADAM AND FAIRY GOING TO MARCH? SERIOUSLY, RACHEL, THIS WOULD REQUIRE ACTUAL WALKING AND POSSIBLY THE UNCLEAN GENERAL PUBLIC. BRUSHING UP AGAINST YOUR NON ROYAL BODY. MAYBE THEY WILL SPONSOR OR TAKE PART IN A VIRTUAL WALK WITH USING ARCHIES SAFETY AND HEALTH AS AN EXCUSE. DONT WANT HIM GETTING COVID NOR FAIRRY, SINCE HE IS IN LINE IF SUCCESSION TO A HOLLYWOOD ACTORS WITH GINGER HAIR CROWN.🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

over 40,000…………

IS THIS THE NUMBER OF THE CROWN THAT PROTESTED IN LONDON HYDE PARK?

the dodgy R……………

BIG HEADLINE ON THURSDAYS DM , LATE IN THE DATE WAS THE DIFFERENCE IN R RATE IN DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE U.K. IT IS ABOVE 1 IN THE NORTH WEST AND SOUTH WEST. ONE WONDERS WHAT IT WILL BE AFTER ALL THESE MARCHES. WILL IT INCREASE, DECREASE OR WHO KNOWS? HOW RELIABLE IS THIS IS ANYWAYS. SEEMS THINGS CHANGE ALL THE TIME, DONE TO EARLY OR TOO LATE AND IN WAYS NOT MAKING SENSE.

mandatory masks …………

THIS HAS BEEN BANDIED ABOUT. VARIOUS PLACES ARE REQUIRING MANDATORY MASKS TO BE WORN OR YOU CANNOT SHOP OR USE THAT FACILITY. SOME ARE ADDING TEMP CHECKS AND HAND SANITIZER TOO. MASKS MANDTORY FOR ALL IN HOSPITALS IN THE U.K. AFTER TO CREST HAS PASSED. WHY START THIS NOW?

The Amazon too ??? …………

IS THIS THE ACTUAL AMAZON, OR AMAZON WHERE WE ALL SHOP. I THINK SINCE MM ANON USED THE QUALIFIER THE, SHE IS REFERRING TO THE JUNGLE RAINFOREST. WITH THE CEASING OF SO MUCH INDUSTRY DURING LOCKDOWN, THERE HAVE BEEN AMAZING DARE INSAY MIRACULOUS EFFECTS ON THE WORKD ENVIRONMENT. IT IS NOT ALL WINE AND ROSES THERE. AMONGST INDIGENOUS BRAZILIANS COVID INFECTION RATES ARE SOARING, WHIKE THE PANDEMIC LOCKDOWN IS BRINGING ABOUT MASSIVE INCREASES IN DEFORESTATION. TRULY IS AN ECONOMIC BOOM AND A LOOMING MASSIVE DEATH TOLL. THERE CERTAINLY IS NOT MUCH IN THE NEWS ABOUT THIS THAT I HAVE SEEN, CBC OR BBC WORLD.

ABOUT AMAZON THE COMPANY, THERE HAS BEEN A WHISTLEBLOWER IN ONTARIO WHO HAS BLOW THE LID ON UNSAFE WORKING CONDITION DURING COVID. STATING WORKERS WERE NIT NOTIFIED OF OTHER CO WORKERS HAVING COVID , PUTTING THEM AND THEUR FAMILIES AT RISK .

AUTHOR ALESX BERENSON HAS WRITTEN A BOOKLET FOR KINDKE READERS ABOUT THOUGHTS ON THE HANDLING IF COVID-19. AMAZON REMOVED IT FROM PUBLISHING. NEVER ONE TO NOT WADE IN ON ANY ISSUE EVER, ELON MUSK, YES THE ONE AND THE SAME, ROCKET BILLIONAIRE, CALLED OUT BEZOS ON THIS WHO SAID ITVWA REMOVED IN ERROR, OH OKAY THEN. NOTHING TO SEE HERE, MOVE RIGHT ALONG FOLKS. MUSK IS NOT MOVING ON,IN FACT IS CALLING FOR THE BREAKUP OF AMAZON. JEFF BEZOS. HAS BEEN ATTACKED NUMEROUS TIMES AND EMPLOYEES OVER THE YEARS HAVE AT THE PERIL OF LOSING THEIR JOB, SPOKEN OUT ABOUT THE WORKING CONDITIONS. I BELIEVE THEY ARE ABOUT TO LEASE THEIR COVID EXTRA PAY SOON TOO, UNLESS IT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED. ANYONE GOING TO STOP SHOPPING AT AMAZON? THOUGHTS? HOW DIFFERENTREALKY ARE OTHER PLACES WE SHOP? WE HAVE NO CLUE CREALLY.

online celebrity …

MADAM HAD DONE SOME PRETTY MAJOR STUFF TO HER FACE, OR RATHER HAS HAD DONE. I LOVED THAT COMMENT ABOUT THE HORSES TAIL PONYTAIL🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. INWISH I COULD RECALL WHICH ANON SAID IT SO I COULD GIVE YOU CREDIT. WHEN ONE IS POPULAR ON YOUTUBE, HAS A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF FOLLOWERS AND VIEWS, I DONT KNOW IF THOSE NUMBERS ARE ARBITRARY, BASED ON COUNTRY OR BASED ON VIEWS. HOWEVER THEY ARE CALLED INFLUENCERS. NOWHERE THIS MORE EVIDENT THAN IN THE COSMETICS WORLD. THE BEAUTY INDUSTRY HAS COMPLETELY CHANGED. THEY COLLAB ON MAKEUP WITH INFLUENCERS. SO MANY INDIE BRANDS ARE BREAKING INTO THE WORLD HUGE MONEY MAKERS. A LOT OF THESE INFLUENCERS HAVE GONE ON TO HAVE THEIR OWN COLLECTIONS AKA JEFFREY STARR, JAMES CHARLES ETC ETC. SO IS MADAM FANCYING HERSELF THAT NOW. SPOUTING HER RABID WOKE WORD SALAD ONKINE FOR $$$$$. I COUKD TOTALLY SEE HER DOING THIS. KIDS SHE IS NEVER NOT GOING TO BE IN THE MEDIA,MBRACE YOURSELVES!

“ There here Philip “ …………” one has to distance darlings “ …… “ yes there lovely shoes” ……… “ look Philip, live tic-toc “………” it’s wonderful wonderful “ ………… “amazing, he’s shot up “ ………” shall we have a little refreshments?”

BACK TO WC, THE CAMBRIDGES HAVR ARRIVED IN FULL FOR E. CATHERINE REMINDING THE CHILDREN ABOUT PHYSICAL DISTANCING. IT IS SO HARD IS IT NOT? AT SNY SGE!! HUG DEPRIVED AM l!!. CATHERINE IS WEARING HER NEW RED SHOES AND, NO WAY IN CANADIAN SIZES IS SHE A SIZE TWELVE, MORE LIKE 2LONG. BUT NONETHELESS SHE HAS ON HER NEW OUTFIT SHE WAS CHOOSING IN THE RIDDLE FROM THE OTHER DAY. I WONDER IF THE GOT TALKING ABOUT UHNTS’S CORONATION RUBIED SLIPPERS? OF COURSE, THEY MUST HAVE, THEY ARE WOME!!🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂.

HMTQ ENCOURAGING HIMSELF TO WATCH THE REA LIFE TIK TOK PERFORMANCES. HIMSELF COMMENTING ON GEORGE OR LOUIS ON HOW MJCH HEVHAS GROWN, LIKELY LOUIS BECAUSE BABIES GROW SO TERRIBLY MUCH. AND ITS BEEN SOMETIME SINCE THEY HAVE BEEN TOGETHER IRL, IN REAL LIFE. AGAIN REFRESHMENTS ON THE WAY.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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39. June 6

MM ANON …… the battle of Whitehall ……… agent Provocateurs………new trading …… it’s a Sunday Jim ,but not as we know it ………… social distancing got wet……… antibodies have the answer ……… R is above 1 in the SWest Of England. 😱😱😱😱……… second spike😱😱😱………🎼when I was 65 ,it was a very good year 🎼………… “ look it’s mummies wedding “ ……… “it’s mummy gan gan” ……… “ yes , so pretty the coach “ ………” I want one “ ……… “ one day sweetie, one day” ………” will you come gan gan ? “ ………… “ I’ll try darling “.

*Entertainment Purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 6/2020. RIDDLE #39

the battle of Whitehall ………

THERE WERE PROTEST MARCHES AGAIN TODAY IN CITIES THE WORLD OVER REGARDING BLM AND RACE ISSUES. I HAD BBC WORLD ON THIS MORNING. THEY WERE SAYING THE TWO MAIN CROWDS IN LONDON WERE IN WHITEHALL NEAR PARLIAMENT SQUARE AND THE OTHER WAS AT THE AMERICAN EMBASSY. THE CROWD NEAR OR IN PARLIAMENT SQUARE LOOKED MASSIVE.

agent Provocateurs………

THE OTHER DAY WE HAD ONE, NOW IT IS MULTIPLE. VERY INTERESTING. WHO ELSE IS DOING THE SPYING.WE KNOW ITS A STORE BUT THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE UNLESS SOME GOT VANDALIZED.MANY LUXURY STORES HAVE BEEN.

LETS , FOR MY SAKE AT LEAST, LOOK AT THE FULL DEFINITION.

FROM WIKI

An agent provocateur (French for “inciting agent”) is a person who commits or who acts to entice another person to commit an illegal or rash act or falsely implicate them in partaking in an illegal act, so as to ruin the reputation or entice legal action against the target or a group they belong to. They may target any group, such as a peaceful protest or demonstration, a union, a political party or a company.

SO THIS IS VERY RELEVANT TO THE PEACEFUL BLM MARCHES. WE HAVE HEARD OF MANY ORGANIZATIONS THAT DISRUPT THESE PEACEFUL MARCHES CAUSE MAYHEM,DESTRUCTION, LOOTING, VIOLENCE AGAINST THE POLICE OR OTHER PROTESTERS, EVEN MURDER. ANTIFA, ANARCHISTS, AND OTHER GROUPS HAVE BEEN MENTIONED. ALWAYS AT THE G7 AND G20 SUMMITS TOO. THEY VIRTUALLY DESTROYED DOWNTOWN TORONTO BUSINESSES A FEW YEARS AGO DURING ONE IF THE G MEETINGS. ITS DISGUSTING TO CAUSE THIS MAYHEM WHEN THERE ARE GENUINE ISSUES PEOPLE ARE PASSIONATE ABOUT.

new trading ……

THEY HAVE JUST PARTIALLY OPENED MAY 26/2020. SURPRISINGLY STOCKS ARE REBOUNDING. THE UNEMPLOYMENT RATE IN AMERICA ANNOUNCED THIS WEEK HAS LOWERED, TO 13.3 %. 2.5 MILLION NEW JOBS HAVE BEEN CREATED SINCE LAST MONTH. THE ECONOMY IS REBOUNDING QUICKER THAN EXPECTED. OH KIDS THUNDERING LIKE CRAZY HERE.

it’s a Sunday Jim ,but not as we know it …………

AGAIN THE STAR TREK REFERENCE, DR MCCOY TALKING TO CAPTAIN KIRK. MEANING THE HIGHEST RANK IS BEING INFORMED. MIGHT THIS BE LG TALKING WITH HMTQ ABOUT WHATS ON THE DOCKET FOR SUNDAY. MORE PROTESTS ARE PLANNED. ALWAYS THE RISK OF BAD ACTORS CAUSING MAYHEM AND WORSE.HOW LONG WILL THIS CONTINUE?? 2020 THUS FAR HAS BEEN FULL OF UNEXPECTED HORRORS.

social distancing got wet………

DURING TODAYS MARCHES IN LONDON, I SAW VARIOUS PEOPLE BEING INTERVIEWED, IT LOOKED COLD AND RAINY. MANY HAD THEIR HOOD UP WEARING THEIR GORTEX RAIN GEAR. HARD TO SOCIAL DISTANCE IN A CROWD OF THOUSANDS AND THEN RAIN ☔️ TO BOOT.

antibodies have the answer ……… R is above 1 in the SWest Of England. 😱😱😱😱……… second spike😱😱😱………

IN VACCINE DEVELOPMENT THEY USUALLY USE A WEAKENED SAMPLE OF THE VIRUS OR BACTERIA , SO THEY CANNOT REPLICATE THEMSELVES, YET ENOUGH IN THE VACCINE TO TRIGGER IMMUNE RESPONSE TO DEVELOP ANTIBODIES AND THEREFORE ONE WILL DEVELOP A IMMUNITY. THIS IS THE ANSWER TO ANY VACCINE. AS YESTERDAYS RIDDLES CLUE THERE ARE MORE CASES OF COVID-19 IN THE NORTH WEST AND SOUTH WEST OF ENGLAND. THE R RATE BEING ABOVE 1 IS CRITICALLY VERY BAD NEWS INDEED. THIS IS THE HIGHEST SINCE THE PEAK OF PANDEMIC AND LOCAL LEADERS CALLING FOR LOCKDOWNS AGAIN. MATT HANCOCK, IS DOWNPLAYING THIS. I THINK WE ALL FEAR A HUGE TSUNAMI OF A SECOND WAVE. FOR ME, I SEE THESE CROWDS MARCHING IN NYC,NEW YORK WHICH HAS BEEN THE EPICENTRE FOR CASES IN AMERICA. THESE MARCHES ARE MASSIVE RISK FOR VIRUS SPREAD. I FEAR VERY MUCH A SECOND WAVE LARGER THAN HAD PREVIOUSLY BEEN ANTICIPATED. IF WE HAVE TO REVERSE THINGS FOR A SECOND SPIKE AND GO BACK INTO COMPLETE LOCKDOWN AGAIN INFEAR NON COMPLIANCE. 🎼

when I was 65 ,it was a very good year 🎼…………

SONG BY OL BLUE EYES HIMSELF,FRANK SINATRA, IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR. THE AGE 65 IS NOT MENTIONED. HE SINGS ABOUT DIFFERENT PHASES OF LIFE AND EXPERIENCES. THE FINAL VERSE IS THE AUTUMN OF LIFE. SO WHO IS 65? MADAM?🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 WAS SHE BORN IN 1965? THAT WOULD MAKE HER 52! HIMSELF IS TURNING 99 NEXT WEEK IS THIS REFERENCING HIS LONG LIFE OF EXPERIENCES?

“ look it’s mummies wedding “ ……… “it’s mummy gan gan” ……… “ yes , so pretty the coach “ ………” I want one “ ……… “ one day sweetie, one day” ………” will you come gan gan ? “ ………… “ I’ll try darling “.

MORE FUN AT WC. THEY MUST BE WATCHING WILLIAM AND CATHERINE’S WEDDING 📀 DVD, HOW LOVELY. POINTING OUT MUMMY TO GAN GAN, HMTQ, AS THEY RIDE THROUGH THE STREES IN HORSES AND CARRIAGE. HOW WONDERFUL WAS THAT WEDDING EH?? AND OF COURSE OUR CHARLOTTE WANTS A WEDDING LIKE THAT ABD MOST DEFINITELY WANTS GAN GAN TO BE THERE. HMTQ PROMISES TO TRY HER BEST TO BE THERE. HOW CHARMING AND HEARTWARMING. I HAVE TEARS ABOUT THIS, WITHOUT SAYING MORE.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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40. June 8

MM ANON ……who’s her next favourite millionaire ……… Malibu?? ……… NYC??……… another sad video cry for help ……… archificial ( firsts words) 🤣🤣🤣………… mad / bad & dangerous to know ……… “ it’s me, me film me!! ………… “ turn around!! “ ……… “ he’s not letting her agenda rule” ………” this is not up for debate “………… “yes ones looking forward to traveling up there “ ………” get in touch with the Gillie” …………… “ can one travel to ones other residence?

SORRY I JUST COUKD T GET TO THIS ONE. THANK YOU DEAR LADYKINRANNOCH FABULOUS AS ALWAYS

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊PG😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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41. June 8

MM ANON ……D.O.J.……… A Stern retort. ��……… the sept. Soothsayer ……… A 14 day suicide for the trade………… in court today ……… Beatrice tooo tu!! …………… wonderful Wessex……… more photos from Kate??? ……… no fuss birthday ………… “ shall one suggest a gathering of 8 .” ………” no, silly’ Balmoral?? ……… MM desperatum iri videbatur……

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 8/20. RIDDLE #41

SORRY KIDS I MISSED YESTERDAY’S RIDDLES AND THIS IS FAR FROM MY BEST. I AM NOT FEELING WELL, AND AM SO VERY VERY TIRED.

D.O.J.……… A STERN RETORT…IN COURT TODAY

PAPERS AGAIN BRINGING UP PRINCE ANDREW AND THE DOJ/FBI IN AMERICA. DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE AND FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. HE STATES HE HAS OFFERED THREE SEPARATE TIME TO ANSWER QUESTIONS, YET THEY HAVE NOT TAKEN HIM UP ON IT. THE F.B. I. IS IN A WORLD OF HURT NOW WITH THE CURRENT INQUIRY GOING ON INTOTHE FISA WARRANTS THAT WASTHE GENESIS OF THE RUSSIA INVESTIGATION AND THE MUELLER PROBE. PA IS SAYING THEY ARE NOT TREATING HIM LIKE ANY USUAL WITNESS, INDEED LIKE A SECOND CLASS CITIZEN.

THEY HAVE CLAPPED BACK, HENCE STERN RETORT OR REPLY, THAT HE HAS BOT BEEN COOPERATIVE WITH US INVESTIGATORS. THIS ARISE AFTER THE DOJ HAS FILE IN COURT FOR “MUTUAL LEGAL ASSISTANCE REQUESTING HELP FROM THE UK HOME OFFICE.

PA LEGAL OFFICE, BLACKFORDS, HAS THIS AFTERNOON RELEASED A LENGTHLY STATEMENT, POINT, BY POINT. I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU TAKE A LOOK AT. INTERESTING WHY IS THIS COMING UP NOW? HERE IS THE ARTICLE SHOULD YOU WAISH TO READ IN FULL.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8398957/Prince-Andrew-war-Jeffrey-Epstein-prosecutors.html

the sept. Soothsayer ………

SOOTHSAYER IS A SEER, A PREDICTOR, VISIONS. SOMEONE PREDICTING MORE 2039 DISASTER?? CERTAINLY THE FEAR OF A MASSIVE SECOND WAVE, LARGER THAN THE GIRST COMING IN. THE AUTUMN MONTHS ALONG WITH THE USUAL AND FLU SEASONS.

A 14 day suicide for the trade…………

BACK IN RHE BIG STOCK MARKET CRASH ON 1929! MANY BROKERS SUICIDED. IS THIS THE PREDICTION NOW FOR THE MARKETS? THE AMERICAN ECONOMIC NEWS LOOKED BRIGHTER LAST WEEK. HOWEVER THE PROTESTS ARE CONTINUING, GETTING BIGGER, SPREAD ACROSS THE GLOBE. I MUST SAY, I AM GLAD MY PARENTS ARE NOT ALIVE TO SEE THIS AND SEE A STATUE OF WINSTON CHURCHILL SPRAYED OVER. WONDER WHAT THE SURVIVING VETERANS THINK. I WONDER WHAT THE HOLOCAUST SURVIVUORS THINK. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO OUR WORLD IS EVIL, SATAN IS WORKING VERY HARD.

14 DAY SUICIDE FOR WHAT TRADE? WHAT SUICIDE TAKES 14 DAYS? POISON? WHAT IS BEING TRADED? MORE FREEDOM, EASING LOCKDOWNS , LEADING TO AN UPTICK IN CASES OF COVD-19. ARE WE LITERALLY GOING TO LOSE LIVES SO SOME CAN HAVE MORE FREDOM, THE EC9NONMY CAN BEGIN TO RUN. I DARESAY THIS LOCKDOWN HAS RESULTED IN MANY DEATHS ALREADY. MISSED TESTSM NISSED SURGERIES, MISSED TREATMENTS, LOSS OF INCOME, DEPRESSION, MARKED INCREASE IN DOMESTIC VIOLENCE RATES.

Beatrice tooo tu!! ……………

HOW CUTE WAS PRINCESS BEATRICE IS HER TUTU, RAISING MONEY FOR CATERPILLARRUN.COM. FUNNY HOW NEONS ARE SO BACK NOW LIKE THE EARLY 90’S

wonderful Wessex………

THE COUNTESS OF WESSEX, SOPHIE, WORKS SO HARD. VARIED CAUSES FROM RAPPELLING A WALL WITH SOLDIERS IN KOSOVO, TO SPEAKING AT THE UN ON WOMENS ISSUES AND ON AND ON. SHE TRULY IS A TREASURE.

more photos from Kate??? ………

IS CATHERINE RELEASING MORE OF HER PHOTOS? SOME OF THE CHILDREN OR ONE OF A SURPRISE BUMP? SORRY I AM BUMP OBSESSED.

no fuss birthday …………

“ shall one suggest a gathering of 8 .” ………” no, silly’ Balmoral?? ………

HMTQ DISCUSSING HER BIRTHDAY DINNER. AS SHE IN CONTINUING THE PLANS OF HEADING NORTH TO BALMORAL IN SCOTLAND 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿, AS SHE DOES EACH SUMMER. THE GILLIES BALL IS A TRADITION WITH THE FISHERMEN DANCING WITH ROYALTY. I THINK THIS YEAR, IT WILL NOT HAPPEN UNFORTUNATELY. IT WILL BE A PARED DOWN SMALL DINNER.

MM desperatum iri videbatur…

MADAM IS SEEMINGLY IN A VERY DESPERATE SITUATION INDEED. WITH HER THOUGH, NOTHING IS EVER EVER AS IT APPEARS TO BE EVER!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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42. June 9

MM ANON ……… everyone and their brother,brother ……… wow!! What a photo Kate!!…………… little Louis gets a surprise …………… a well rounded future of three( four) ……… A birthday tic-toc dance………… “ do Catherine , come and bring the children “………… “maybe a change of routine “………… “ Both of you are an example hope”……… “ yes George,I’ll see if we can get to a match”

*Entertainment Purposes

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻😊😊THANK YOU MM ANON😊😊🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

JUNE 9/2020. RIDDLE #42

THIS IS A PURE FUN RIDDLE, THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON, I HAVE SO LITTLE ENERGY BUT THIS I SHALL DO WITH PURE LOVE.

THIS RIDDLE IS ENTIRELY FAMILY, HMTQ BIRTHDAY PLANS.

everyone and their brother,brother ………

SO YESTERDAY THEY WERE SAYING A DINNER OF EIGHT. AT BALMORAL. LIMITS THERE ARE EIGHT I BELIEVE, I ALSO BELIEVE HMTQ CAN BEND THE RULES. THE PHRASE, EVERYBODY ABD THEIR BROTHER IS COMING, MEANS A HECK OF A LOT OF PEOPLE. I SEE THIS MEANING OUR HARRY WILL MOST DEFINITELY BE IN ATTENDANCE 💜💜💜💜💜

wow!! What a photo Kate!!……………

TOWN AND COUNTRY REVEAL A NEW PHOTO, OR PREVIOUSLY UNSEEN PHOTO OF WILLIAM HOLDING AN UMBRELLA WALKING WITH GEORGE AND CHARLOTTE DURING THE TIME THEY WERE OUT DELIVERING HOME MADE PASTA. OF INTEREST THE PHOTO IS TAKE FROM THE BACK. I WINDER IF THIS REFERS TO A NEW PHOTO GIVEN THE TWO EXCLAMATION MARKS.

little Louis gets a surprise ……………

HAVE THEY TOLD LITTLE LOUIS THAT HE SHALL SOON BE A BIG BROTHER?? I AM TOTALLY ALL IN ON BABY NUMBER FOUR. I KNOW I WAS ALL IN BACK IN NOVEMBER BUT I STILL AM. THE CLUES POINT TO IT.

a well rounded future of three( four) ………

AHA ANOTHER IN YOUR FACE CLUE. CATHERINE’S TUMMY HAS ROUNDED, I WONDER IF THAT IS THE OHOTO SPOKEN OF, A SELF PORTRAIT OF HER AND HER BABY BUMP. YEP NUMBER FOUR IS BREWING AWAY. WE HAVE ONKY SEEN HER FOR WEEKS FROM NECK UP. THE LAST TIME WE SAW HER WAS THE HONOURING NHS CLAPPING PHOTO TAKEN AT AMNER HALL.

A birthday tic-toc dance………… “ do Catherine , come and bring the children “………… “maybe a change of routine “………… “ Both of you are an example hope”……… “ yes George,I’ll see if we can get to a match”

BIRTHDAY TIK TOK DANCE FOR GAN GAN. HMTQ WANTS CATHERINE AND THE CHILDREN FOR SURE TO COME UP TO BALMORAL AS WELL. SAYING NICE CHANGE IN ROUTINE. HMTQ COMMENDING CATHERINE ON THE WORK SHE AND WILLIAM ARE DOING. WILLIAM IS ANSWERING GEORGE WHO WANTS SOME FOOTBALL.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿