#Charles continues to be deranged and fucked up

[lsunstreakerl]

back w/the darkbull again I fear. this is the kidnapping again, Charles POV, though as a quick side note: after this ficlet is where this universe would branch for the "bad ending". 1.5k words

CONTENT WARNINGS: dehumanization, breathplay/choking, emotionally manipulative language/gaslighting, absolutely unhinged levels of delusional possessiveness

Charles tugs the rest of the sweatshirt down over Max, who's barely even looking at him, eyes half lidded. He doesn't want to have to keep using such a high dose, and he thinks they're making some positive progress- Max doesn't even fight him much anymore when he tries to move him around.

Charles has found that laying his hand over Max's ribs where the fresh tattoo is, the heavy reminder of the possessiveness- it gets rid of some of the fire. It's still sensitive too, so he has the added bonus of seeing Max squirm.

He slides a hand up under the sweatshirt, brushing his fingers over the constellation, a reminder of their lifelong connection, their red string of fate.

Max makes a breathy little noise, trying weakly to move away, and Charles shushes him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He brings his hand back out, running one through Max's hair while he reaches with the other for the water on the counter.

It's not a sedative this time- Charles actually intends to wake him up a bit with this one.

He brings his fingers to Max's mouth, thumb pushing gently on his bottom lip, and Max blinks, slow and confused.

"'anny?"

Charles freezes, narrowing his eyes.

"What was that, chaton?"

He can hear the edge in his own voice, and something in him is immediately angry and possessive- here he is, taking care of Max, rescuing him, and all he gets in return is another man's name in his mouth.

Max's eyes widen, just the tiniest bit more aware, and Charles uncaps the water.

"See, because that almost sounded like you said 'Danny', didn't it? And we don't want that."

He's gripping Max's hair tight, tight enough to hurt- he can tell because Max is struggling to lean up into it, take some of the pressure off.

"No... no, I didn't-"

It's still slow and slurred, but Charles can see the edge of panic in Max's eyes. He's realized he fucked up.

It's not his fault Redbull is in so deep, but- Charles can't let it slide, even if Max looks cute like this, desperately pushing up into his hand, eyes starting to sparkle with tears.

Charles sighs.

"I think you did, baby."

He lowers Max's head back down, still keeping his grip on his hair as he brings up the water.

It's easy enough, resting it on his bottom teeth, and he angles Max's head so that he can take sips, but he keeps it constant- Max has to keep drinking if he doesn't want to choke.

It's the most efficient way Charles has found so far, and he doesn't mind it. It makes him feel in tune with Max- Charles pours, Max swallows, they have to work together if Max wants to keep breathing.

Teamwork practice.

Still- Max struggles at the end, slightly off beat, and he gags, trying to pull his head away and cough. Charles doesn't let him- keeps his hand firm as he pours the rest of the water, even as Max starts to really get feisty.

He drops the empty bottle and lets Max sit up a bit, cooing at him as he coughs wetly.

"Aw, poor chaton, did you drink too fast?"

The stimulant is already taking effect, and the cold water wake up call has also helped, because Max's glare is absolutely murderous.

It's cute.

"You fucking choked me, that's not-"

Charles cuts him off simply by raising an eyebrow. He hasn't really let Max be this awake without a gag before, but it sounds like he's exactly as obstinate as Charles remembers.

"No, baby. That is not choking you, I was helping you."

He doesn't want to have to teach Max this right now, but Max has backed him into a corner, so Charles sighs, eyes lingering on the pale column of Max's throat. It's unmarked, after he'd cut the fucking Redbull chain off.

He's going to fix that.

Charles can see it in Max's eyes the moment he realizes, widening in fear, but Charles has him pinned between him and the headboard, he doesn't have anywhere to go.

He swings a leg over his lap to pin him, hand coming up to wrap around his throat.

"Charles- Charles please-"

The begging is pretty. Charles wants to hear more of that later.

"This is choking you."

He bears down, and he's an expert at this- most everyone in Ferrari knows how to do this right, how to apply just enough pressure-

Max spasms underneath him, eyes wide and panicking. He doesn't trust Charles yet, but that's okay. They'll get there. Charles knows what he's doing, wouldn't actually take it too far- it's just some reinforcement.

"And here I thought you were wanting Daniel instead."

He eases up on his throat, keeping his hand loosely wrapped around the front as Max sucks in heaving breaths.

"No- no I didn't- I meant Charles, I-"

He squeezes again, making sure to really dig in his fingers. He wants to leave bruises, a little collar for Max to remember him by while he's gone.

Charles holds it a little bit longer this time, until Max's eyes flutter and he starts going limp, and then he lets go completely, watching fondly as he he collapses back, trying to catch his breath.

It's a bit like playing with an actual kitten- the cat thinks they've won, that they got the toy- but it's been connected to string the whole time, and Charles had no problems reeling him in again and again, until he learns.

"No you didn't, baby. Go ahead, say it again. I know you want to, yes? Or maybe you would rather call for Carlos, or Christian? GP?"

He drags his fingertips down Max's throat, to the dip in his collarbone. The edge of the red sweatshirt looks so pretty against his skin.

Charles is going to keep him forever.

Max is trembling underneath him, mouth snapped shut. Smart kitten.

Unfortunately, it's too late for cute behavior to work for him.

"Say it."

Max looks mutinous as he opens his mouth, and Charles watches him expectantly. He's in trouble either way, and they both know it.

"Danny."

There's a spark of defiance in his eyes, like he's accepted that this will go badly, but he's still determined to fight it. Good.

That's what Charles wants. It's no fun if Max is meek and submissive from the jump- Charles wants to earn it.

He sneers dawn at Max, digging his fingers back into his hair and yanking.

"Shit-"

Max tries to jerk up, to follow his hand, but he's still pinned by Charles.

"You know what you are, chaton? You are spoiled and ungrateful. I am here, staying home to help take care of you, help you get adjusted, and this is what I get?"

There are tears forming on Max's lash line, but he still looks angry when he drags his eyes to meet Charles'.

"I'm not a fucking cat-"

Charles tuts at him, bringing his other hand to squeeze at Max's side over the tattoo.

"Ah-"

Max thrashes, trying to get away from it, but Charles carefully lowers him back down, hand moving from his hair back to this throat, and Max goes still, eyes wide.

"Charles please- please not again, I don't-"

"Shut up."

He snaps his mouth shut.

Charles runs a thumb over his cheek gently.

"Good boy. See how easy it is? Don't you want to be good for me? I don't like hurting you, baby. It's not what I want to do, but you keep making me do that."

Max keeps his mouth shut, because he's a quick learner.

Charles smiles down at him.

"That's what I thought. There's a reason I woke you up a bit today, chaton. I have a factory meeting, and I don't have anyone to housesit you, so you're going to do sim laps here at home, yes?"

Max blinks up at him. He looks like he's actually listening, which is a good sign.

"Good boy. I will still need to gag you, of course, but that is just because you can be very needy, and I don't need the neighbors complaining, you understand."

Max's gaze is back to being murderous, probably at the implied pet comparison again, but he's behaving.

It's definitely only because he thinks he'll be able to hijack the sim rig somehow, use it in an escape plan. Charles isn't worried. It's been Max-proofed.

Though, he's expecting to come back home to a semi-trashed flat. It's fine, he's prepared for the adjustment period.

He strokes a hand through Max's hair gently.

"It's on the Ferrari, because that is what you'll be driving next season, so all you need to do today is try and learn it, okay?"

He grips his fingers just a bit, because he likes the way it makes Max tilt his head into his hand.

"Surely that is not too difficult for you."

Max's lip curls, fierce and defiant.

"I hope you fucking crash."

[laura1633]

i just read your omega!charles fucks alpha!max fic and RHRHRHFHHEHFHFHFHRHHFHFHFHRHHRHRHFH IT WAS SO GOOD AND SO HOT

plsplsplsplspls write a part two 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 u would eat that shit UP i just know it

this part especially was SO RRFHRHRHHFHFHF i need an expansion on that PLSSSS RAHHH

(me when u write fic ⬆️)

(as usual your writing is amazing and i’m sorry for being deranged in your ask box again 🙏🏼🙏🏼 RAHHH)

Ahhhh so glad you liked it, and you never need to apologise for sending an ask like this - it put a huge smile on my face!!

We definitely need more omega's using strap-ons to fuck their very willing alphas!! I imagine it is a theme I will write again at some point, I don't know if it will be a continuation of this story but I left this one open ended so who knows <3

I just think that if Max was an alpha then he would still like to bottom please and thank you 😂

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

dings a rinky triangle right next to your head Hi guys, it's fic time! I actually put this up last night but I'm telling you right now. It's had a few hours to cool, like a pie out of the oven, but made of words. This chapter will actually contain mentions of ssssself harm, so viewer beware, i guess.

His world stays dark, even though he knows he’s opened his eyes. He tries to understand that, brain feeling foggy. He must be somewhere dark. He’s laying on his back. He can hear muffled voices, maybe, over him? He’s under something. He lays there, listening, but he’s too tired to even try to understand, and the voices are too muffled to be anything recognizable. Maybe, if he really strains, he can hear a familiar voice, or someone who sounds like his baby sister, but the only word he manages to understand is “invisible.”

He falls back into a restless sleep.

The next time he’s able to shake exhaustion from his mind, he tries to sit up. It’s easier than he thought it might be. This time, more aware of himself, his body feeling less destroyed, he actually tries to understand where he is. It feels like he’s laying in dirt, or under dirt, in a mountain of it, the usual soft scent of freshly turned earth overpowering. It still hurts to move, but he forces himself to, clawing upwards, through the dirt, until he reaches a wooden plank, which he goes through, like he’s not even there.

It’s a box, containing something foul smelling. A coffin… he’s inside a coffin. Juno buried him below a pine box, in someone else’s grave. The inside of it stinks, like decay and chemicals, and he doesn’t stop to take in whoever this used to be, just pushes up, and out, until he emerges from the ground like a zombie, like Night of the Living Dead. The ground around him is grown over with grass, and he grabs at it, using it as much as he can, as he crawls from someone’s grave, until finally, he pulls himself free from the earth, and lays there, taking breaths he doesn’t need, to clear the smell of the body from his nose. His suit and trench coat are filthy, but that barely registers, at this point. There are more important things to worry about, like getting home- He sits up, catches sight of the gravestone.

Emily Deetz Devoted Wife, Beloved Mother “Whom Most We Love Reach First the Golden Gate, Leaving Us Desolate”

He stares at the etching on the stone, and feels something in his mind snap, like a rubber band stretched too tight. He’s seeing the world through a fisheye lens, his vision distorted, blurry, as he tries to understand exactly what just happened. Juno made him crawl out of his own mother’s grave. The body he still reeks of was Emily’s. He sits there, a long time, not feeling much of anything, only able to stare, replaying that memory, over and over, and the only thing that makes him move is the sudden realization of what grass over a grave could mean. Emily’s been buried long enough for it to grow. How long has it been since he’s been home? He does his best to push this fun new trauma down, as far as it will go. He’s got to get back to his family. What’s left of it, he thinks, humorlessly.

He stands, off balance, and wipes some of the dust and dirt from his face, and finds that, annoyingly, his glamour has slipped, and it refuses to reapply. Maybe he’s too drained, though he’s not sure how he’s going to get back home, clearly looking as deranged as he must. He’s too exhausted to teleport, and he wanders around the cemetery, avoiding the few people there as much as he can, as the sun dips low, and vanishes. At least by that point he can force his teeth and ears to resemble normal human’s. The moss and eyes, well, he’s too worn down to care. So he’ll look like an extra grubby hobo, he thinks. That’ll have to be his new look, for now.

He reaches a gate, and leans on it, and then falls through it, and blinks, confused. He’s never been intangible by accident, before. Usually it takes concentration to make his solid form incorporeal. He stands, straightens out his suit collar, adjusts his sleeves, fiddles with his tie, as he thinks. There’s got to be someone around here who can call his family for him, or at the very least, a cab. The cemetery is growing darker, and his attention is drawn to the far off flicker of candles. He feels a pull, and he approaches, taking in what he sees.

It’s a group of five teenagers with an Ouija board. Predictable. He snorts, and expects that sound to alert the kids to his presence, but they don’t even turn to see what the noise could be. He steps closer, until he’s fully illuminated by the glowing ring of candles around them, and he tries to be friendly. “Hey, just a normal livin’ adult human man, in a cemetery, at night, approachin’ a group of children. You kids wanna be helpful an’ call me a cab?” BJ tries, but he’s ignored. The kids don’t even look in his direction. He remembers being a snot nosed teen, but this is a bit much. His blood boils, and he leans down, claps his hands in one of the teen’s faces, and she responds to that, but not in the way he wants. “I think I just felt a cold spot!” she tells her friends. “In front of my face, just now!” “Calm down with that,” a red haired girl shoots her a look. “We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already having a spiritual experience. Yeah, right.” “No you guys, really!”

“Lookit me,” he interrupts them. The children continue to squabble. His gut clenches. “Look at me!” he demands, storming to the center of the circle, and kicking at their stupid board game. His boot goes through it. They don’t react. Why would they, he realizes, sinking to sit on top of the board.

He’s invisible.

He tries to recall everything Juno had said, as he’d struggled to keep conscious, while impaled. Loneliness. Invisibility, being at the command of the living. Being… forgotten. No, no, NO- His impending freak out is stymied when he feels hands go through him, and he shoots up, hovering over the board game, as the teens below him react. “Oh my god, total cold spot! Should we like, make a note of that?” “Come on, come on, let’s start, while there’s still someone or something here!”

The five teens lean forward, each placing fingers on the planchette. “Is there anyone here?” one of them asks.

Betelgeuse stares, and feels a tug, again, clearly coming from the board. He knows some demons use these things to play with their food, before they eat, so he gives it a go, and floats over the game, head down, feet in the air, like he’s diving underwater. Maybe these kids can actually help him. He pushes the planchette with one finger, to land on “Yes.”

“Did you do that?” one boy asks, and the group devolves into the kids blaming each other, and he rakes his hands down his face, and tries to move the planchette, again, but they’re too busy squabbling, they’re not touching it anymore. Fuck, this is frustrating. He’s never wanted a group of teenagers to drop dead as badly as he does right now. Finally, they put their hands back on the pointer, and ask another question. “Are you friendly?”

This time, he pushes the planchette to spell, instead. “S-U-R-E.” “That doesn’t instill a lot of confidence,” the redhead from before mutters. “What do you want?” He nudges the pointer along, painstakingly slow. “H-O-M-E.” “You want to go home?” “YES.”

“For fuck sake, yes,” he groans, and then perks as one asks, “How can we help you?” Well… he’s not actually sure. He squints, trying and failing to recall everything Juno had said. How is he supposed to work with this curse thing, when he doesn’t know the rules? He digs his hands in his pockets, frustrated, and then blinks, because there’s what feels like a business card there, one that he doesn’t remember. He pulls the paper from his pocket, studies it.

BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE

He remembers the way Juno had chanted his name, before he’d lost consciousness. That must be it, then. His name is his burden.

“M-Y-N-A-M-E-T-H-R-E-E-T-I-M-E-S”

“Oh, wait, wait, guys, I’ve heard of this,” one of the girls gasps. “Demonic entities, they have you do things in threes, to mock the trinity, you know, father, son, and holy ghost. It’s a demon thing! We might be talking to a non-human spirit!” “That means we can’t trust it, right?” A boy asks, and they all look uneasy. He steers the planchette around the board, desperate. “W-A-N-N-A-H-O-M-E-P-L-Z.” The redhead wrinkles her nose. “Do demons use chat speak?” she asks, glancing around the group.

“O-H-M-Y-G-O-D-U-K-I-D-S-A-R-E-K-I-L-L-I-N-M-E.”

“I’m not afraid. Tell us your name, spirit!” a boy calls, and he gives the planchette a push, intent on spelling it. The pointer doesn’t move. “Come the fuck on!” he growls, but it doesn’t matter how much strength he puts into the action, he can’t move the dinky plastic piece to spell out his name.

“Spirit? You there?”

“F-U-C-K,” he spells out, in a rage, because this is pointless, he’s too exhausted and sore to think of how to make this work, and he just wants to go home, and see what’s left of his family. He growls again, and then snuffs all the candles in the circle, all at once, causing the kids to scream, and scramble, and that, at least, forces a rictus grin from him. He’s always enjoyed the sounds of terror. He leaves the children tripping over themselves in the dark, and decides he’s going to have to make his way home the old fashioned way- floating. At least he doesn’t have to walk, he supposes, tucking his legs under himself, and he floats invisibly out of the cemetery, and down the sidewalk, trying to focus on how good it will be to see Lydia and Charles, and not on how they won’t see him, and especially not on how every part of him, physically, emotionally, mentally, is hurting. read the rest over here~ If you're totally lost, I find starting at the beginning of something often makes the middle of something make better sense. So you can start at the very beginning right HERE

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 45: Skeletons In The Garden

It has been almost a week since I decided to give William a chance. More than that, I decided to earn his trust, no matter what it took. I think I am succeeding so far, but there is a price I have to pay. With every day we spend together in town, with every night we join our bodies into one, we become closer. Just as I have gained his trust, he is beginning to gain mine. I have to constantly remind myself why I came here, but then he looks at me with that smile, that light in his eyes... It takes all my effort not forget the reason I agreed to be with him in the first place.

I sleepily stumble around the kitchen in search of the jar of ground coffee, wearing nothing but William’s dressing gown. I borrowed it again last night to head back to my bedroom and fell asleep in it. Though the sleeves are way too long for me, the fabric is luxurious and soft, and I have taken up the habit of stealing it after our nightly activities.

A few minutes ago, William woke me up without bothering to knock on my door.  He said we were going somewhere, but did not explain any further. I was too tired to ask. Though it is not that early, I have been having more trouble sleeping than usual, and I have the feeling it has nothing to do with my new vampiric condition. Fuck, this man drives me insane in every way possible: I either want to kiss him, break his nose, or both. That last one gets very confusing, and usually ends up involving lots of bites from me, out of anger, and from him, in retaliation. 

I pour a cup for him before taking my coffee up to my bedroom. I stare at my clothes, which are laid out on the bed, as I drink it. I have been putting off returning to the mansion for my stuff, but I do need more dresses. I would also like to resume my research, so I’ll have to borrow some books for that.

When I return downstairs, empty cup in hand and hair loosely braided, William is waiting for me on the sofa. He offers me a bottle of rouge, and I pet Puck as I take it.

“Today is the troupe’s day off,” I observe.

“I know,” he simply replies. Where is he taking me? As if he could read my mind, he smiles and sips his rouge before explaining. “Dost thou remember how I wanted thee to meet someone?”

I nod, but narrow my eyes as the implication sinks in. Either he really trusts me enough to introduce me to his deranged accomplice, or this is his way to get rid of me once and for all. Sure, he has been nothing but charming and sweet since I moved into his house, but this is William. If there is a God, even He doesn’t know what he’s plotting.

An hour later, our carriage pulls up next to an old church. From the outside, I see no signs of it being used. It looks rather abandoned. However, as we approach the entrance, I catch the scent of burning candles, meaning there must be people inside. What is this place?

The wooden door creaks loudly when William pushes it open, just enough for us to pass through. Once inside, he closes it behind us.

“Please lock that, will you?” a man’s voice chimes from the altar. I cannot see him, but I hear glass tinkering behind the decorative screen in the back.

“Do not worry, we shall be quick,” William says, but obliges anyway. Great, now I am trapped here with a stranger who might have killed me.

He takes my hand and guides me down the nave. Our steps echo ominously under the high stone arches, and I have to take a deep breath to relax. Do not show them you are nervous, Anaïs, for they might take it the wrong way. For God’s sake, act normal.

We walk past the altar and into the ambulatory, where the stranger in question seems to have set up a lab of sorts, packed with all kinds of flasks, beakers, and, uh... medical equipment. Creepy. He is slightly taller than William, slender and dressed in clothing as black as his hair, and wears glasses with a chain around his neck.

“What do we have here?” he asks with a malicious grin that gives me shivers. He has a mild German accent. “Is this the neophyte you mentioned? She would make a fine guinea pig...”

“No, thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at my quick reply, while William chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist.

“My nightshade, this is Johann Georg Faust. Johann, meet Anaïs.”

“Faust like the legend?”

“The very same,” William smiles.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, I guess. So, um... What are you doing there?” I ask, pointing at the collection of scribbled on papers and lab equipment.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, fräulein Anaïs. I am sure you would find my experiments rather tedious...”

I ignore the condescending tone of his answer. A sculpture behind him has caught my eye. Faust interrupts his deceivingly polite excuse when I march past him to approach it.

“Oh, hell no,” I mumble. “María, cariño, ¿qué te han hecho? (Mary, honey, what have they done to you?)”

 I reach up to touch the Virgin’s gilded coat and, sure enough, the gold leaf crumbles in my fingers, leaving behind a glittery mess. I turn to the bespectacled man, only for my look of indignation to be met with his, equal parts intrigued and offended.

“She’s falling apart! See?” I show the golden dust on my palm to the two men. “I need to fix this before it gets-” Oh no he didn’t. Right beside Faust, on his work table, I see a clean rag neatly folded beside a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Carbolic acid’, the label reads. I bring the cloth to my nose and immediately put two and two together. “You wiped it with phenol?!” I exclaim, incredulous, as I furiously wave the rag around. “I don’t know why you needed to disinfect poor Mary over here in the first place, but for fuck’s sake, don’t do it again. God, no wonder everyone hates this stupid century, y’all discover something and decide to use it for everything without ever thinking about what it might do.”

“Everyone?” William asks, confused.

“This century?” Faust says almost at the same time.

“In my line of work, I mean,” I explain, completely ignoring the second question. I am not sure how safe it would be for me to mention that I come from the future. “Seriously, the amount of damage I’ve had to undo is insane. Why you people use so many questionable compounds is beyond me. Can I borrow a scalpel?”

“You came through the door,” Faust states. Shit, I guess he knows about it.

“Yes, I’m from the future,” I sigh, before grabbing a scalpel myself, not bothering to wait for permission.

I return my focus to the sculpture and carefully examine it. The state it is in is poorer than I had previously noticed. Judging by the proportions, it looks gothic. That makes it around 300 years old at least. Though the passage of time has obviously taken its toll, I have no doubt that its degradation has been made worse by well-meaning yet ignorant attempts at preserving it. Or, in Faust’s case, by his attempt to prep the area for whatever freaky surgical shit he has going on here. I must admit, the fact that he allegedly sold his soul to the devil for knowledge does not exactly reassure me about his intentions.

“The year 2020, to be exact,” I continue as I awkwardly manoeuvre around the sculpture to scrape some paint and gesso off the back in order to check the state of the wood underneath. “I’m guessing you’re not a pureblood... Do you know how to use a shotgun, by any chance?” I ask casually without looking up from my delicate task.

“Is this about Salieri?” Judging by Faust’s tone, I can tell he is rolling his eyes. “That would be Charles,” he sighs. Whoever this Charles is, Faust sounds like a bored babysitter. He has no interest in the conversation whatsoever. “May I have my scalpel back? You’re going to blunt it.”

“I’m almost done.” I manage to cut a cross section just in time to see him approach and forcibly take the sharp object from my hand. I then make my way back to the work table and search for what I need, carefully holding the thin slice of wood and gesso between my fingers. “Do you have a... What are they called, those round looky things with the handle?”

“Magnifying glass,” William aids.

“Yeah, that. Actually,” I change my mind when I see a pile of neatly stacked glass slides, “I’m gonna take one of these. I forgot that microscopes already exist. Where is yours, anyway?”

“Safely locked away,” the alchemist deadpans. Oh well, it looks like I’ll have to save my sample for later, then.

William takes my hand and gently ushers me away from the improvised lab, I assume to stop me from annoying its owner any further. Though he acts polite, I can tell it is nothing more than a weak façade that could drop any second.

“My dearest,” he says, “we should move on to the reason of our visit?”

“Vlad, was it?” I nod. He merely mentioned the name in passing days ago, but I have hung onto that minuscule snippet of information like my life depends on it. It might.

He leads me to a discrete door nestled in the corner of the transept to our left. Before we can reach it, however, Faust calls out from behind the altar.

“I look forward to studying you, fräulein.”

“Well, I do not!” I sing in response. He lets out an unnerving chuckle that I decide to ignore.

I follow William through the door and up a dark staircase. As we walk along the hallway, I get the feeling that he does not know exactly where he is leading me, either. Still, he finds the person he was looking for inside a small room. It looks like it had been used for storage in the past, but now is completely empty save for a desk and a few chairs. The white haired man sitting on one of them looks up when we enter through the already open door. This must be him. The pureblood that is going after the residents.

He is strikingly beautiful, despite the unnervingly red shade of his eyes. Dressed in expensive clothes, he moves elegantly to greet me. I instinctively do the polite thing and offer my hand for him to hold.

“Anaïs Bertran, I presume?” His voice is slightly breathy, and as delicately controlled as his poise. “You are as beautiful as a rose.”

I do not dare to complain out loud, but I give William an exasperated look, causing him to laugh. I smack his arm.

“Stop being a dickhead,” I scold him, even though I have to hold back a smile.

“Ah, I see you have thorns as well,” the other man chuckles. “It is rare for such a pretty flower to be so foul mouthed. I must confess I appreciate it, it adds character. Was that some kind of joke between you two?”

“I guess you could call it that,” I sigh. “I just think there are more interesting flowers to be compared to.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“I don’t know, lisianthus, dahlias... Sunflowers are pretty nifty, and I’ve always liked orchids. People tend to think they’re really hard to grow, for some reason, but they just need a bit of attention and the right amount of light. Chrysanthemums are also really cool...” I ramble.

“Those are an old favorite of mine, but not as much as roses, I’m afraid. Do you enjoy gardening?”

“Is it that obvious?” I chuckle, embarrassed. “But yeah, I worked as a florist for a few years.”

“Oh?” he smiles. “I own a flower shop in town. I sense we are going to get along well, Anaïs. Oh my, how rude of me! I forgot to introduce myself. You may call me Vlad.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” I politely say before tilting my head. “I have to say, I find it a bit strange to be here, speaking to you. I mean, you sent a sniper after Salieri to stop him from revealing your identity, yet here we are, being formally introduced,” I remark.

“Yes, I am well aware of the incident that took place. Quite a fortunate outcome you got, don’t you think?”

“If by fortunate you mean bleeding out in a sewer, then sure, but I beg to differ.” A cold smile accompanies my response. Not only did dying obliterate any semblance of a schedule I had, it also caused me to be turned into... this. I have nothing against vampires, but I’d rather not go through the pain of being a neophyte, or whatever these people call it. 

“Pardon my crudeness, but isn’t that what happens when you jump in front of a bullet that is not meant for you?” Vlad quips.

“Yeah... That is the stupidest thing I have ever done, can’t argue with that logic,” I mutter, resigned. “By the way, if you’re gonna play with gunpowder inside a tunnel, I’d recommend finding another one that isn’t full of highly flammable methane gas. Just a tip,” I wink.

Our tense exchange is interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Under it stands another man with a boyish smile and shaggy hair.

“I bought those strawberries you- Oh.” He pauses when he sees me, his eyes growing wide in recognition. “Hello there.”

“Are you Charles?” I innocently ask, approaching him. When he nods, I smirk. 

There is no warning when I grab his jacket and shoot my knee into his groin at full force. I hear William’s incredulous snort behind me, along with a muffled chuckle belonging to Vlad.

“Argh, putain!” Charles groans, folding over in pain. I observe him as I wait for him to recover. “Why?” he cries from the floor. I simply pull my dress down to reveal the scar on my cleavage. His mouth opens and closes quickly, not knowing what to say.

“Sorry, just had to get that out of my system,” I explain with no trace in my voice of the violence I just displayed. “I’m Anaïs,” I smile, offering my hand. He takes it, and I pull him to his feet. The boyish grin returns to his face as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

“I am so sorry about shooting you, it was an accident. You jumped out of nowhere! I didn’t even want to in the first place, but- Ehem, sorry.”

I follow his gaze when he suddenly interrupts himself with a fake cough. Vlad’s eyes are slightly narrowed in what I can only assume is a look of warning. Okay, something’s going on. Well, yet another thing, on top of the long list of unexplained actions from this strange group of people.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say before the silence becomes awkward, “we’re even now.” I turn to the pureblood and look at him inquisitively. “Anyway, I have a lot of questions. I don’t want to judge until I know exactly what your intentions are for doing whatever it is you’re doing. I have to admit I am finding it hard to keep my emotions under control, so we better get on with it, yeah?”

I do not need to justify my volatile state. Vlad knows perfectly well that he was the one to cause it.

[jennystahl]

Background + Relationships for Mia & Olive 🔫

sorry this got really long because i’m deranged but anyway here you go =_=

— BACKGROUND

Where were they born? What was their childhood like?

She was born in Empire Bay! She was raised by her aunt (father’s sister) and uncle as opposed to either of her parents because her father was cheating on his wife with her (then single) mother to produce her. She had a good childhood; she was rich of course, but aside from the material and being raised well she was kind of a lonely kid and had a distinct sense of abandonment issues because of her status in life :/ Which is probably why she was so wild as a teenager but y’know

What’s their family like?

A mess! At least in regards to her. There’s her dad, a rich as fuck magnate who died on the Titanic and left her a lesser but still large inheritance; her three siblings (two older, one younger) on her father’s side, who she actually got on pretty well with; her mother, who never had anything to do with her; and her three (all younger) siblings on her mother’s side, who she became close to in the late 30s. From there we have Juliet, the daughter of one of the brothers on her mom’s side, who Olive lavishes as an aunt smh... she has a number of other nieces and nephews but they don’t matter. I’m sure they do to her but not to me.

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

Nothing really! She’s associated with the Salieris and lends money but beyond that she’s just a socialite.

How do they fit into their “story”?

Well! Back in 1926 she ran off to Lost Heaven with a man she met, determined to marry him because she was young and dumb. Turns out this guy was not so nice and Olive regretted this shit immediately… but she was too stubborn and proud to ask her family for help. It all came to a head in a really heated argument in late 1927 and she ended up shooting him with his own gun. It was an accident and a surprise to both of them but shit happens. Turns out he was a Morello soldato and Olive (by searching the house) found out all about the shady shit he was doing and some MESSED up stuff she could’ve turned in to police… instead she found out about the Salieris and went to THEM, saying that she had valuable information so long as they promised to protect her…=_= So they “protected” her and nowadays she’s a part of the family in earnest because she 1.) is funny and they all like her 2.) can be a good distraction on runs, depending 3.) works as a money lender in the family. Also there’s all the stuff with her and Paulie but y’all know that already. The Salieris are more of a family to her than her real one is tbh

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like?

She lives in Oakwood in a nice townhome! It’s really stupidly expensively furnished, especially with nautical decorations.

How do they eventually die?

In “canon”, where Paulie d*es, she ends back up in Empire Bay so that she doesn’t have to get fucked over when Tommy is ratting on the Salieris. She probably ends up dying married to some random she doesn’t love or more likely alone :/ probably from idk liver failure from drinking. In the superior AU and true canon where her and Paulie continue living in LH and he opens his pizzeria, she probably just dies of old age :^)

— RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend?

She’s friends with everyone (mostly) in the Salieris, and depending on the timeline either Julia (Mona :)) or Charles (Sam’s OC :>) is a good pal. She would probably consider either Julia, Charles, Sarah, or Carlo her best friend tbh?? Sorry I got addicted to the Olive + Carlo friendship and I can’t stop thinking about them :/ 

The gag is though that she wouldn’t consider Paulie her “best friend” but she talks to him like...the most out of anybody and probably unwittingly tells him more shit too because he’s always driving her home. After they get together though it’s :^) you know

What’s their love life like? Do they have any kids?

You all know all about this I don’t wanna make this shit too long bc I will not shut up about them... her and Paulie get together in 1934 and in the AU get ~married~ in the early 40s. No kids!

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust?

She’s very easily trusting so she trusts all her friends of course. She really looks up to Salieri himself because he helped her out when she was in trouble, and so when he starts going crazy it really sucks for her :( She ofc looks up greatly to her aunt and uncle too because they took her in.

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies?

She doesn’t really hate anyone tbh. By association she “hates” the Morellos but she couldn’t be bothered really.

Do they have any pets?

Nah she doesn’t really like animals, but she would get a bird if she could :( Maybe someday her and Paulie get some :)

Are they good with kids? Animals?

Kids yes, animals no. Animals just don’t really like her for some reason :/ she thinks they’re dirty so whatever. As for kids, she’s definitely a wine aunt figure; would never have her own but she likes playing with them and buying them gifts.

— BACKGROUND

answered here!

— RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend?

Her childhood friend group was Vito, Lucia, and Joe! Lucia is definitely her best friend, they stuck together when Mia came to America and Lucia helped her out in school. They’re also the only ones who stay in touch after high school because she’s the only one her mom liked.

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it?

During their early teen years she was the one who tried to talk them out of dumb stuff because she has older sister disease and always feels like she HAS to be responsible and prevent disaster. But between the ages of like...15-18 she’s just off the rails. Started dating Joe and truly released her inhibitions and shoplifts with the best of them <3

What’s their love life like? Do they have any kids?

God well...she dated Joe between the ages of 15 and 18 and then broke up with him before graduation because her mom made her and forced her into Real Life. She probably dated a few guys casually before 1951 when she starts dating him again :// We have no AU for Mafia II really at least not for Joe so...he literally just disappears (AKA the ending of the game grrr) and she ?? I’m not sure yet how she reacts or what happens with her after that honestly. But she would not have kids no, she’s done enough parenting in her life.

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust?

She trusts her friends and used to look up to her mom but the older she gets the more she kinda resents the roles her mom forced her into.

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies?

She’s petty and hates a lot of people for whatever reasons :/ But no actual enemies except the smalltime Irish gang that extorted her mom that she is now extorting loool

Do they have any pets?

Nah, she’s too busy and her apartment sucks

Are they good with kids? Animals?

She had to help out with her siblings her whole life so theoretically she’s good with kids, but honestly she’s just awkward with them now that she’s an adult. As for animals she’s neutral; she likes dogs but she won’t be getting one any time soon.

[brokehorrorfan]

Free as a Bird: The Devil's Rejects at 15

Rob Zombie has been one of the most polarizing figures in the horror community since making the leap from musician to filmmaker. He made his feature writing and directorial debut with House of 1000 Corpses in 2003 - after being purchased by Lions Gate when its original studio, Universal, shelved it three years prior due fears of it receiving a dreaded NC-17 rating. Corpses fell victim to many issues faced by first-time directors, but the end result remains potent. It's apparent that Zombie was unsure if he'd ever get the opportunity to make another movie, resulting in an anarchic melange of ideas and influences.

Despite the troubled production and an unfavorable critical response, the film turned a healthy profit, giving Zombie the sinister urge to make a sequel as his sophomore effort. The Devil's Rejects was released via Lions Gate 15 years ago today; July 22, 2005. It introduces a realism to the previously exaggerated world created in Corpses. The horror elements are present, but the follow-up also incorporates aspects of exploitation, western, road movies, and even comedy. Zombie’s refined approach allows him to blend the tones more smoothly this time around.

The Devil’s Rejects kicks off with a literal bang. Set in 1978, the murderous Firefly clan introduced in House of 1000 Corpses - collectively responsible for more than 75 deaths - have been tracked down by the vindictive Sheriff Wydell (William Forsythe, The Rock). A shootout between the family and state troopers ensues, with Baby (Zombie’s wife, Sheri Moon Zombie) and Otis (Bill Moseley, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2) narrowly escaping. They meet up with Baby’s estranged father, local celebrity Captain Spaulding (Sid Haig, Spider Baby), who helps them flee from the law. The fugitives’ reign of terror continues on the lam.

Zombie creates a fascinating and challenging dichotomy between protagonist and antagonist. Although the Fireflys' actions are reprehensible and Wydell’s vengeance is justified, the former villains are presented as heroes for whom the audience is encouraged to root. Boldly set to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird,” the poetic climax is among the most effective uses of a popular song in cinema, as far as I'm concerned.

Captain Spaulding is still a vulgar curmudgeon but spends most of the movie sans his iconic clown makeup, as the desperate times have forced him to assume the role of patriarch of the Firefly clan. Otis is no longer the gangly albino introduced in Corpses, instead portrayed as a deranged, bearded, lunatic in the mold of Charles Manson, leading to a career-best performance by Moseley. Similarly, Baby's sweetly sadistic tendencies are presented in a more grounded manner. The ironically named Tiny (Matthew McGrory, who passed away shortly after the film's release) doesn’t have much screen time but plays an important role in the story.

In addition to the characters evolving, several changes were made on the casting side between Corpses and Rejects. Mama Firefly was recast with Leslie Easterbrook (Police Academy) after cult favorite Karen Black reportedly demanded too much money to reprise the role. While Black's magnetism is impossible to match, Easterbrook admirably sinks her teeth into the unhinged matriarch. The hulking Rufus was recast from one former professional wrestler to another, as Tyler Mane (who went on to play Michael Myers in Zombie’s Halloween films) took over the role originated by Robert Mukes. Grandpa Hugo was written out of the script due to actor Dennis Fimple dying before production. The mad Dr. Satan (Walter Phelan) appeared in a gory scene that was deleted because Zombie - rightfully - felt the character was incongruous.

As he’s known to do, Zombie populated the Rejects cast with cult actors in roles both large and small, including such recognizable faces as Ken Foree (Dawn of the Dead), Michael Berryman (The Hills Have Eyes), Elizabeth Daily (Pee-wee's Big Adventure), Priscilla Barnes (Three’s Company), Geoffrey Lewis (Double Impact), comedian Brian Posehn, Danny Trejo (From Dusk Till Dawn), wrestling icon “Diamond” Dallas Page, Tom Towles (Night of the Living Dead), Dave Sheridan (Scary Movie), P.J. Soles (Halloween), Mary Woronov (Chopping Mall), adult film star Ginger Lynn, and an uncredited Kane Hodder (Friday the 13th Parts VII-X).

Whereas Corpses drew influence from 1970s horror classics like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Hills Have Eyes, Rejects adopts a gritty tone akin to the era’s exploitation movies. It’s matched with a grainy aesthetic and a lot of handheld camera work, with cinematographer Phil Parmet's (Zombie's Halloween) documentary background proving useful for emulating the cinéma vérité style. Zombie is careful to balance the brutality - such as the intensely uncomfortable motel scene, which initially earned the picture an NC-17 rating - with levity. Supporting characters, such as those portrayed by Foree, Berryman and Posehn, are the primary sources of comedic relief, but even the Firefly family earn a few laughs (“Tutti fucking fruity!”).

Zombie has continued to make interesting, if divisive, choices as a filmmaker, but I believe The Devil’s Rejects remains his strongest work on the whole. (The Lords of Salem is vastly underappreciated, but that's an article for another day.) The film is relentless and emotionally draining, but it’s also entertaining and endlessly quotable. In striking that unique tonal balance, the characters were cemented as bona fide horror icons. While Zombie undermined his own efforts with last year's superfluous 3 from Hell, The Devil's Rejects saw the filmmaker acting as free as a bird.

The Devil's Rejects is available on Blu-ray and DVD via Lionsgate.

[sweetness47]

Heartache

Pairing Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Warnings: none really, fluff, angst, amnesia, mention of argument, ABO stuff, pregnant reader

Her head was pounding as her eyes fluttered open, sunlight momentarily blinding her. Autumn leaves crunched beneath her body and hands as she struggled to sit up. That’s when she realized she was completely naked. What the hell? The pounding in her skull continued, crippling her, not allowing her to stand. It was unbearable.

She curled into a ball, fighting the waves of dizziness and nausea that plagued her. Trying to stand up had been a serious mistake. She gingerly lifted her head to look around, hoping she could find her clothing, or at least some clue as to why she was out here. But every movement brought more nausea.

She groaned, feeling gently with her hand to see what kind of damage had her so immobile. Her fingertips came across a large goose egg, sticky from blood, at the back of her head. What had happened, she couldn’t say, at this point she didn’t even know her name. Thinking hurt, moving hurt. If she didn’t get to help soon, she would probably die here.

“YN!” a voice echoed in the distance. She turned, wincing as dry heaves threatened her fragile state. If she could get their attention, maybe they could help. Assuming, of course, that whoever was out here wasn’t a deranged serial killer. The voice sounded worried though, like he was concerned for the woman he was looking for. So…maybe…

“Please! Help!” she managed to cry out, trying to stay as still as possible to avoid the retching again.

She heard movement and prayed it was the help she needed. Strong arms wrapped her in a blanket and picked her up with a gentleness that gave her hope.

“Easy YN, You’re going to be ok.”

She whimpered as she buried her face into this male, his scent calming her. He was a good person; she could feel it. Wait, did he call her YN? Was that her name?

“You know me?” she croaked. Her throat was dry and hoarse.

“Yeah baby, I know you.” He paused. “You don’t know me?”

She barely managed a shake of her head. “My head, I…”

The man walked faster. “It’s ok sweetheart, I’ll get you home. We’ll get you better.”

“Sam!” he growled as he came to a clearing. A few buildings close together, like a farm, greeted her eyes. Another man, she assumed it was Sam, ran out to greet them, followed by another woman and two more males.

“She needs water, food, and medical attention. She,” he paused, “she can’t remember who I am.”

Sam took YN into his arms. “It’s ok Dean. We got this.”

“Come inside and have something to eat Dean. You’ve been out all night. Pacing and worrying won’t help anything. Let Cas and Sam take a look at her.”

Dean looked over at the woman who’d spoken. “I know mom, but…”

“No buts, c’mon. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Dean sighed. He’d given up arguing with his mother’s sound logic years ago. She wasn’t wrong. Worrying didn’t help anyone. All it did was create anxiety and stress. His mate was in good hands. He trusted Sam and Cas to help her.

Except, in this case, he was worried, his mind playing over scenes from two nights ago, when he and YN had come to blows over some stupid comment he’d made. Usually she didn’t get riled up that easily. His mate was a spitfire. It was one of the things he loved about her. Even as an omega, he admired her courage and tenacity when confronting something she didn’t like, or something that scared her. She stood her ground during pack meetings, and didn’t take shit from anyone. The pack admired her, and admired the Alpha for choosing such a strong mate.

He didn’t choose, it was more like soulmate bonding, but whatever, same thing. Either way, he was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

He had been talking about an upcoming children’s event they held every spring and fall. Sam, Mary, Cas, and Jack had all been present, and Dean had made a joke about skipping the event entirely, saying something about ‘who needs happy kids anyways?’. He’d made similar jokes before, and it never bothered YN, she knew he was kidding. It’s who he was.

But this time she’d snapped, saying he was heartless, saying that children deserved happiness and how dare he even suggest cancelling the event. Then she’d stormed out of the house. Mary had tried to run after her, but she’d already shifted and was galloping off into the forest, not caring that it was dark and rainy.

She was a strong wolf, there wasn’t much that could scare her honestly, or take her down for that matter. She was above average size, and could easily handle herself in a fight. That wasn’t a concern. But he was worried about the fact that she’d run off at all.

Sam and Cas walked into the kitchen, sitting down as Mary dished them out some food. Dean looked at the two men and pressed for information. “Well? How is she?”

Sam scooped up some eggs and a piece of ham. “She’s resting. She’s had a bag of fluids through IV, and we gave her some medicine to help with the pain.”

Cas looked at Sam, and then to Dean. Dean saw the hidden information in his third in command’s eyes. “What aren’t you telling me.”

Cas cleared his throat. “YN is pregnant. She’s carrying two pups.”

His jaw dropped to the floor.

Suddenly everything made a whole wack load of sense. Heightened emotions, the argument, the hurt in her eyes.

“Fuck! God I feel so damn stupid! I can’t believe I hurt her like that!”

“It’s not your fault Dean. You didn’t know.” Mary came over to console her son. She placed a kiss on his cheek. “She’ll forgive you. Just give her time.”

He snorted. “Yeah, if she even remembers who I am.” He gave his mom a half-hug and walked out the back door.

About an hour later, Charlie, Dean’s best friend since childhood, sought him out at the request of Sam. If anyone could bring Dean out of his mood, it was Charlie. Well, his mate could too, but she wasn’t available.

“Hey Dean, s’up?”

Dean turned to the familiar voice. “Hey Charlie, not much.” He smiled at her before turning back to the lake.

“Then why do you look like you just ordered the death of a thousand panda bears?”

“Because I’m an ass.”

Charlie couldn’t help it. Her laughter echoed through the open fields and across the cool water. “Well, we already knew that. So, that’s not the reason.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Funny.”

She sat down beside him. “Yup. So is this.”

Before Dean could even blink she pushed him off the deck and into the murky water. He came up sputtering and glaring at his friend. “Are you fucking nuts?”

Charlie was laughing so hard, tears were rolling down her cheeks. “You should see the look on your face! God you look like a wet dog!”

“I’m gonna kill you Charles.”

She grimaced at the nickname. “Watch it pretty boy. Gonna have to beat some sense into ya.”

He growled. “Really? You feeling suicidal today?”

“Nope, but you’re depressed, so if you want to go a few rounds, I’m game.”

He climbed up to the deck surface, shaking off his jacket to lay out and dry, followed by his shirt. “Well hotshot, since you dunked me in that cold lake, I have to shift to get warm. So, I guess we’re sparring.”

Charlie went around the other side of the boatshed and removed her clothes to shift, while Dean finished removing his. Bones cracked and readjusted, shifted. Two wolves came around to face each other then, a dark sandy blonde wolf and a red wolf.

Fighting and training was a normal part of pack life. And no one held back strength or tactics. The only rule for pack members was no killing moves. You could pin and force submission, but no death blows or deadly bites.

Sam heard wolves snapping and fighting, and ran to investigate. He and a few others found the two wolves going at each other, and began rooting for their favorite. Everyone knew it was fun, so no one worried about outcomes being bad.

After half an hour, Dean finally pinned his friend, and Charlie submitted defeat. He took his clothes into the shed, while Charlie took hers to the woods behind a tree. Sam sought his brother out, remembering why he’d been looking for him in the first place.

“Dean? YN’s awake.”

Dean peeked out from a stack of canoes. “Does she remember anything?”

Sam shook his head. “No, but she’s asking for you. Not by name, but as the guy who helped her.”

With a sigh, his heart aching, he nodded and followed Sam to the pack med center. YN lay on one of the beds, an IV still in her arm, her head wrapped in white bandages.

Dean walked over to her and sat in a chair by the bed. Sam left the room to give them some privacy.

“Hi.” Her voice small but more upbeat than before, had him looking up. “I wanted to talk to you, and I wanted to thank you.”

Dean took her hand in his, feeling her tense slightly before relaxing. “I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Who am I?” The question caught him off guard, and he frowned. She tried to reword the question. “Specifically, who am I to you?”

He bit his lower lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. “You’re my mate. Your name is YN. We met about two years ago at the local bar.”

She squeezed his hand. “That explains why I feel safe around you. But why was I in the woods alone?”

Dean ran his hands through his hair. “Because I said something stupid, and hurt your feelings, so you ran off to cool down, except you didn’t return. That’s when we started searching for you. I’ve never felt so terrified in my entire life.”

“Sam and Cas told me about the pups. Did you know?”

He shook his head. “No. But your reaction to my stupid comment makes more sense now. I’m beyond relieved you aren’t seriously injured.”

She brought his hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles. “So am I, and it’s thanks to you. I don’t have my memories back yet, but I’d be grateful to have your assistance in finding them.”

He smiled at her words, and stood to place a kiss on her forehead. “That sounds like a wonderful idea YN. As soon as my brother clears you, I’ll take you on a tour.”

“I think I’m going to like that, a lot.”

“Me too sweetheart, me too.”

@legion1993​ @akshi8278​

[somethinwickedthiswayrides]

I have another absolutely stupid request. Gang reacts: reader is a wizard. Their horse is a dragon under an illusion spell. So most people see it as a horse but for some reason. Gang keeps seeing a dragon out of the corner of their eyes and look and see a horse. Until they’re around it so much that the illusion loses power and they wake up one morning and see a frickin horse sized dragon chilling out with they horses

Not stupid, not stupid at all, I had to fight every urge in my body to try and ignore this request so I could hammer out my 100 follower special, and I have failed, miserably.

I have no regrets. :D

First time writing for Trelawny...I think I failed. lol

Everyone was freaked out by your horse, by you too, but mostly your horse.

It just didn't act like most horses.

It stood on it's hind legs when it was reaching for low hanging tree fruit.

It never grazed.

It practically ran whenever Kieran came at it with a brush.

It charges into battle and kicks and bites people, and it causes more damage then a horse should be able to do.

And everyone SWEARS that were is a giant freakin lizard out of the corner of their eye but when they turn to look it's just your horse.

The drunks are beginning to lay off the alcohol and the more sober ones are starting to drink more.

Mostly everyone just assumes that they're going crazy and keeps their experiences to themselves.

That was until this morning.

"WHAT THE FUCK!!??!?!"

Kieran's shriek blasted through the camp and anyone who wasn't fully awake by this point certainly was now.

Everyone went racing toward the horses and;

Sweet mother of

There's a lizard the size of a fudging horse just lounging among them like that's where it belonged!

Everyone was freaking out and about half the camp had a weapon pointed at it.

"Why is everyone pointing a weapon at my horse?"

Everyone looked at you like you were the crazy one.

"That is NOT a horse! That's a...That's...I don't even know what that is!"

You raised a brow and gave a small whistle, the creatures head perked up and it got off the ground and walked over to you, in an almost perfect trot, and nuzzled into your hand.

By this point a couple people, Arthur, Charles, and Lenny, had put away their guns.

They figure it wasn't acting hostile, their horses weren't acting out of the ordinary, why bother trying to rile it.

Micah, Karen, and Bill, weren't so easily convinced, and kept their weapons pointed right at it. Watching it's every move.

Everyone else lowered their weapons, but didn't holster them.

Once when you figured out that your illusion was no longer working due to them being around the creature for so long.

You were basically forced to tell them just what in the world it was, and what you were.

Que worlds largest freak out moment.

Once everyone settled down, and realized that this is literally the worlds most relaxed creature despite looking like it could eat them no problem, some of them began warming to it.

Arthur warms to it first, and starts sketching the hell out of it, cause lets face it, it looks cool as shit.

Dutch will want you to completely drop the illusion so he can have you and the dragon front and center of his gang as a power move.

Hosea has to rein Dutch in to keep him from going too crazy with the dragon. Otherwise he's cool with it as long as it stays calm.

Micah, once over the initial freak out and realizing that the over-sized alligator doesn't want to bite his face off, wants to ride it. The dragon'll let him on, but refuses to go anywhere unless you give the okay.

Do not give him the okay.

Jack adores it and continuously plays with it, giving poor John and Abigail heart attacks.

John is for the most part cool with it, but doesn't fully warm up to it until he sees it walking around with Jack on it's back, nice and slow so he's able to keep ahold of it. After that he tries petting it, and though he's a little weirded out that it starts purring, he likes it.

Abigail doesn't warm up to it until a few times she was calling for Jack and the dragon actually walks up to her, holding Jack by the back of his shirt, and straight up hands him to her. Refuses to pet it though.

Karen and Swanson are all aboard the nope train to fuckthatville, not only to the dragon, but to you as well. And they refuse to come off.

Kieran damn near has a heart attack every time he's around the thing, but take him by the hand and show him that the dragon means no harm and how to care for it, the two become best buddies.

Charles, Lenny, Mary-Beth, and Sean are the most enthused about the creature and will ask you a bunch of questions about it, well, Lenny and Sean will usually ask the questions, Charles and Mary-Beth mostly listen intently.

With Mary-Beth taking notes to use for her writing.

Javier takes the longest out of everyone to get used to it, barring Karen and Swanson. But tell him that the dragon loves music, and even show him how to play some of it's favorite songs. Will be amused and delighted when the dragon actually starts dancing.

Bill is another who wants to ride it, but doesn't want to accidentally hurt it, or have it hurt him. Unlike Micah, will actually ask you and will ask advise on how to ride it. Listens to you more than anyone in his life.

Strauss, Tilly, Uncle, and Susan don't really give two shits. But expect to be yelled at by Susan cause your dragon keeps sneaking into camp to sleep in your tent.

Molly has nothing against the dragon, but generally stays away from it as a precaution.

Trelawny is your best friend now, you can do real magic, AND you have a dragon as your mount. He loves it and is constantly trying to steal you away to do magic shows with him.

Milton and Ross freak out and piss off once you decide to show just how deadly the dragon can be, and with a snap of your fingers the dragon straight up mauls one or two of their men. Weather or not you take off the illusion to let them know their dealing with a dragon or just a deranged horse is up to you.

[lunaschild2016]

Worth Fighting For - Chapter 1: Begin At The End

Rating: M (violence, smut, language, references to abuse and violence)

Romance/Tragedy

He was ruthless, cunning and completely committed to protecting his city but her arrival to Dauntless called everything he ever thought he believed into question. Duty and following orders were no longer enough. They both found more than they ever thought possible. They both found something worth fighting for. Eric/OC AU M Tragedy/Romance

@kenzieam@ericdauntless@jojuarez26@jaihardy@iammarylastar@captstefanbrandt@captainviolets@badassbaker@readsalot73@fuckthatfeeling@dani5102@beltz2016@beautifulramblingbrains@affabletimelady@irasancti@meganbee15@pathybo @lauraaan182​@gylisaa@scorpio2009 @gylisaa

A/N: Posting this here but is also on ff.net site. 

_____________________________________________________________

The Choosing age has changed twice since Eric and Four joined Dauntless at sixteen. First it went to eighteen and then two years before our story starts it was changed yet again by the orders of Marcus Eaton to the age of twenty. Eric and Four have been members of dauntless for over eight years at the start of the story. The last two years before choosing the dependents were kept to doing faction oriented duties.

Eric Coulter: 24, Dauntless Leader, transferred from Erudite at 16. (Jai Courtney-original cast member)

Kat Prior, 20, Initiate, transferred from Abnegation at 20 (Chloe Grace Moretz)

Chase Oldham, 24, Dauntless Training Instructor/Intel Ops Officer, transferred from Candor at 16 (Liam Hemsworth)

Tris Prior, 20 (almost 21), Initiate, transferred from Abnegation at 20 (Shailene Woodley-original cast member)

Tobias ‘Four’ Eaton, 24, Dauntless Instructor/Control Room Officer, transferred from Abnegation at 16 (Theo James- original cast member)

Zach Godfrey, 25, Dauntless Legal Liaison Officer, transferred from Candor at 16 (Aaron Taylor-Johnson)

Zeke Pedrad, 24, Dauntless Intel/Control Ops Officer, Dauntless-born had choosing at 16 (Charles Michael Davis)

Uriah Pedrad, 20, Initiate, Dauntless-born (Keiynan Lonsdale - original cast member)

Marlene Banks, 20, Initiate, Dauntless-born (Suki Waterhouse-original cast member)

Lynn Morrison, 20, Initiate, Dauntless-born (Rosa Salazar-original cast member)

Max Cornell, 48, Dauntless Senior Leader, Dauntless-born had choosing at 16 (Idris Elba)

Christina Stevenson, 20, Initiate, transferred from Candor at 20 (Zoe Kravitz -original cast member)

Will Madsen, 20, Initiate, transferred from Erudite at 20, (Ben Lloyd-Hughes-original cast member)

Tori, 32, Dauntless Tattoo Artist, transferred from Erudite at 16 (Maggie Q-original cast member)

Bud, 44, Tattoo Shop Owner/Artist, Dauntless-born choosing at 16 (Sebastian Roche)

                                    So hard to let go

                         And I still hear the sound

                  Of your voice singin’ in my head

                                  I can’t surrender

               ‘Cause the ropes slowly coming apart

                             But hangin’ by a thread

                                        It’s gone on

                                        For too long

                                        And this is it

            So take a look into my eyes one last time

                                   So we never forget

                              The way we were before

             When we came alive at the moment we met

                             This is still worth fighting

                                 Still worth fighting for

                              A glass that’s half empty

                         Won’t wash away the mistakes

                                 It only makes a mess

                                  It’s worth defending

                          A tiny glimpse it would take

                              To make us better yet

                                         It’s gone on

                                        For too long

                                        And this is it

                 So take a look into my eyes one last time

                                   So we never forget

                               The way we were before

                When we came alive at the moment we met

                             This is still worth fighting for

                                 A love that wants to live

                               I’ll give you all I’ve got to give

                                  So let’s try one last time

                                        So we never forget

                                This is still worth fighting

                                       Still worth fight for

                            Now that we know just who we are

                            Now that we’ve finally come this far

                            I’m ready for one more battle scar

‘                           Cause this is still worth fighting for

                     [Still Worth Fighting For; My Darkest Days]

Chapter 1 - Begin At The End

Third Person: Candor Complex, Final Justice Annex

In a cold, sterile room made of white marble with swirls of black covering the walls and floor was a chair of black leather. The only piece of furniture in the center of the stark room, similar in shape to that of a dentist chair.

Strapped to the chair was a man clothed all in black. The first time he had been allowed to wear the colors of his faction since his own arrest a week and a half ago. A small gesture from those leaders that disagreed with what would be happening today.

Maybe it was supposed a kindness or a show of support. Just like their insistence that they still be allowed to be the ones to proceed with his sentence, his execution. It was ironic really that at the end of it all he was finally getting the respect from the faction he had always given everything to. A respect he had never received during his close to nine years there, no matter what he did or gave before. In the end...he was giving his life.

But it hadn’t been all for them or even the city. He was still selfish enough to admit that freely.

‘Was it worth it, Eric? Betraying your faction? Your city? Was she worth it, Coulter?’

The bitter and taunting words of a deranged woman from her own cell when his sentence had been pronounced reverberated through his head.

Movement around him draws his attention as the forms of the leader’s council come into view. The Dauntless surround him but the noted absence of one brings to him relief and pain. Four of the five current leaders take their places to either side of him while the rest of the faction leaders take up places on the outer edges.

One Erudite, Cara he thinks as he remembers her name, steps forward to join the Dauntless. In her hand she holds the instrument of his death. A locked box containing the death serum they had pronounced would be used on him instead of being allowed the death of a Dauntless, the customary bullet to the brain. The reasoning was that since all five of the Dauntless leaders had voted Not Guilty that it wasn’t a true Dauntless execution.

It was all just bullshit and another way to try and make him pay for the crimes he committed, yes, but also the ones the other leaders wouldn’t hold themselves responsible for.

“Eric Coulter, for the crimes committed against your city, your faction and humanity; you have been sentenced to death by injection of the Erudite death serum. This will be carried out by one of the Dauntless leaders, per permission of this council. Will the chosen for the proceedings step forward.” Jack Kang’s voice rings out from the side of the room.

Instantly Eric goes tense and a growl erupts from him as the petite blonde steps forward. “Not her!” He barks out commandingly. “Anyone but her.”

“Eric..” She starts to object, tears in her eyes as she continues to step forward.

He tosses his head from side to side, lips thinned and red in anger. “Not happening, Tris. You know you can’t do this. She will never fucking forgive you. Not like this...not after all the shit I…” He stops and takes a deep breath. “She can’t lose her sister too.”

Tris bites her lip and looks away nodding, knowing he is right but knowing her duty.

“Fuck it. I volunteer in her stead.” Four steps forward holding Eric’s eyes showing him he understands and will take care of it. Knowing that he risks losing his oldest and best friend for this.

Eric flashes a grateful look and relaxes back into the chair while Four puts a comforting hand on Tris’ shoulder to move her back but she shakes her head and raises her chin.

Her eyes flash with fire, a look he knows so well and it is comforting to see even if the color of her fire is off from the one he loves so much.

“She wanted to be here….but after the trial and then…” Tris trails off and Eric chuckles wryly knowing exactly why her sister wasn’t allowed into this room.

“Unless you want to add to the body count this was the only way to go.” Eric agrees.

There is a clearing of the throat and then Jack Kang speaks again. “Do you have any last words?”

There is a pause while they allow him to gather himself, or just give him time to speak if he is going to. The words of a deranged and enraged Jeanine Matthews were still ringing through his mind and a slow smile crossed his face. Not the cruel or wicked smile he was a legend for. This was her smile. The one that was only for her and could only be brought forward by her or thoughts of her.

They flooded him now. Their first meeting to their last kiss. And he answers the question that had been in his mind from the day she stepped on his roof.

“She is worth it. She and we, were worth fighting for. I found my reason and my purpose, something greater than myself. I can live with it...the blood on my hands...because I know it all comes down to her and those she cares about being safe.” Then Eric’s face turned hard, more into the expression everyone who knew the ruthless and fierce ex-leader would expect him to have. “Don’t fuck up this second chance.” His tone rings with a command that sends chills through the other leaders but amusement and pride through those in black.

The rest of the world fades away for him as he tunes it all out. He doesn’t see the room around him anymore as the murmured ‘be brave’ motto of their faction comes from the four to his sides. He doesn’t feel anything as Cara and Four begin to prep his neck for the injection.

All his senses and thoughts are on a playback mode. Starting from the day that changed his life forever and the course of the city. It occurs to him during this that it had started for them much earlier than that day she jumped from the train into his life. It began with the promise of a ten year old girl to set things right. Pride and love burn through him along with the pain of the modified serum.

“You did it angel. You kept your promise.” Eric’s final words were a whisper on his last breath and a smile tilted his lips.

[womenofcolor15]

TIGER KING SPECIAL: Everyone Pretty Much Hates Joe Exotic + The Conspiracy Theory That's Crazy AF, But Possible?

Netflix’s “Tiger King” docu-series quickly became a global sensation. So, the streaming giant filmed a follow-up special to chat with everyone who appeared in the series – minus Joe Exotic and Carole Baskin. Find out his former employees and competitors feel about him now, how their lives have changed, plus what Shaq said about his appearance inside….

Whew chile.  The caucasity of it all.

If you have been on social media within the last month you’ve definitely seen more than enough “Tiger King” memes. And if you haven’t watched the docu-series, then you’re likely not understanding what the fuss is about.

Well, the seven-episode docu-series is insane and disturbing, and it gets even more deranged in each episode. The true crime documentary follows the life of zookeeper Joe Exotic (real name Joseph Maldonado-Passage) and the bizarre underworld of big cat breeding. Joe - who once owned the G.W. Zoo in Oklahoma - is currently sitting bars after he was found guilty of a murder-for-hire plot against his rival, Carole Baskin. He’s serving a 22-year prison sentence.

The show’s popularity prompted Netflix to give “Tiger King” fans another episode. The new episode is titled “The Tiger King and I,” and it was basically a 40-minute reunion special hosted by Joel McHale...virtually. He interviewed a few of the people who appeared in the docu-series, including Jeff and Lauren Lowe (current owners of G.W. Zoo), Erik Cowie (head zookeeper at G.W. Zoo), John Reinke (former manager at G.W. Zoo), Kelci “Saff” Saffery (former animal keeper at G.W. Zoo), Joshua Dial (Joe’s ex-campaign manager), John Finlay (Joe’s ex-husband), and Rick Kirkham (ex-producer of Joe Exotic TV).

In a nutshell, most of them don’t like Joe anymore. Many of his old friends and former co-workers said they regret not doing anything to stop Joe from mistreating the animals back then, especially the tigers that were killed for no reason. Most of them feel like he got what he deserved: prison time.

”He’s going to die in there, so good riddance,” head zoo keeper Erik Cowie said.

“They were not sick. They were beautiful, healthy tigers that he called over to the fence and he shot them in the head because he needed the cage space,” he said. “So Joe goes out and makes the cage space by killing five beautiful, healthy tigers,” current G.W. Zoo owner Jeff Lowe said.

On the flip side, there’s one person who still has Joe’s back. Kelci “Saff” Staffery – the former animal keeper who lost an arm after a tiger attacked and returned to work DAYS later – said the documentary excluded things about Joe Exotic that showed how loyal he was to the people around him.

“I think justice was served, but I still don’t want to see that man die in prison,” Saff said.

Several members of the cast said they weren’t happy with the way they were portrayed on the show – one of them being Joe’s ex-husband, John Finlay. He said the series made him look like a “drugged-out hillbilly” when, in fact, he had been clean for almost five years at the time they were filming.

Jeff Lowe also didn’t like how the series made it look like he stole the zoo from Joe Exotic.

Obviously, Carole Baskin and her new husband Howard Baskin didn't appear in the new episode. After the series debuted, she and her new husband criticized how they were depicted.

Also..

  Hear me out: Carol’s 1st husband is “Jeff Lowe” -con artist. He & Allan kill Don. Carol pays them money she inherits. Yrs later Jeff frames Joe for Carol, both get off, cover up yrs of coercing, they take down all the Tiger Kings & build the world’s biggest attraction by Winstar. pic.twitter.com/nZkatT9H7X

— Haley Herzog (@HalesHerz) April 5, 2020

  PLOT TWIST!

A fan of the show brought up a conspiracy theory that's blowing people's minds. They suggest Jeff Lowe (who's the owner of Joe's zoo) is Carole Baskin's FIRST abusive husband that went "missing." They suggest Carole paid off Jeff in a bid to bring Joe down.

"Carol’s 1st husband is 'Jeff Lowe' -con artist. He & Allan kill Don. Carol pays them money she inherits. Yrs later Jeff frames Joe for Carol, both get off, cover up yrs of coercing, they take down all the Tiger Kings & build the world’s biggest attraction by Winstar," the fan tweeted.

Wow. Continue reading below:

  My final thoughts pic.twitter.com/wfz9qFbddZ

— Haley Herzog (@HalesHerz) April 5, 2020

    OH. MY. GOOD. GOD. #CaroleBaskinDidIt #TigerKing #PlotTwist #DefinitelyTooGoodToFactCheck pic.twitter.com/wYJprZtJI0

— Jeremy Heer, CFA, CAIA (@MonocleMan1) April 14, 2020

    It’s fucking crazy pic.twitter.com/exfvsu5pav

— sergeant sarcasm (@IloraBean) April 6, 2020

  Crazier things have happened.

Also...

Former NBA baller Shaquille O'Neal made a cameo in the first episode of "Tiger King," causing him to receive backlash from people for supporting someone who was endangering animals.

During an episode of “The Steam Room” with the “Inside the NBA” co-anchors, Shaq set the record straight about his visit to Joe's zoo since Charles Barkley wouldn't let him live it down.

"So on the way there, on the highway, I saw a sign that said tigers. That was the first time I went. I went, said hi, gave him some money to give me a couple white tigers," Shaq said.

“Then I think we went to Oklahoma City one more time so I only saw Joe once,” he continued. “The second time I went, they was like, ‘Hey man, they don’t think you should come back, a lot of stuff is going on.’ And I never went back.”

“There’s a lot of stuttering going on right there!," Charles joked.

The former Lakers baller also denied ever having possessed any of Joe's big cats.

"I want people to understand when I say I own tigers, I always go to these zoos. And I make donations. And then they'll say: 'Okay, these are your tigers', but the tigers never come into my possession," he explained.

He said he sponsored two tigers at Joe's zoo - a great white tiger named Prince and a regular Bengal tiger named Chuckie.

There you have it.

Photo: Netflix

    [Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/04/14/tiger-king-special-everyone-pretty-much-hates-joe-exotic-shaq-wants-you-to-know-this-abou

[oscopelabs]

Lights, Camera, Mania: Showbiz Satire’s Descents Into Madness by Charles Bramesco

In his seminal tell-all Hollywood Babylon, Kenneth Anger claimed to reveal the festering truth beneath the dream factory of the American film industry. His was a bemused but cynical perspective on the business of show, reveling in the sordid juiciness of early Tinseltown controversies that usually concluded with tragedy, if not death. Representatives of the film idols referred to in the book lined up to denounce the tales of drug-fueled orgies and suicide cover-ups as conjecture and falsehood, and indeed, the modern reader would do well to take Anger’s gossip with a metric ton of salt.

But rather than a factual history, Anger’s book has more value as a portrait of a certain mentality specific to this professional milieu. Even if Clara Bow didn’t bang the entire USC football team, this progenitor of the celeb exposé spoke to true conditions of the culture surrounding the movie colony, suggesting that decadence and luxury made—and continue to make—it too easy to go mad with power. Readers flocked to Anger’s toxic oil spill of a book for the same reason airport bookstores regularly sell out of the latest A-lister’s confessional: it’s devilishly pleasurable to watch fame and fortune make someone act crazy.

The best Hollywood send-ups have adopted this jaded outlook, turning an eye inward to find a carnivorous business that masticates talent and spits it out once the flavor’s gone. The recent, toothless likes of Argo, La La Land, and The Artist have courted the label of satire with a line about expanded universes here or a jab at blowhard producers there, but these little rib-nudges have been affectionate counterpoints in otherwise adulatory valentines to the magic of the movies. The good stuff cuts to the dark heart of an industry that gives creative types—and who could possibly be more mentally infirm than a writer—too much money and influence for their own good.

The history of showbiz spoofery is the history of insanity: the finest entries have used the assorted pressures of filmmaking to push their characters to their wit’s end as an absurd representation of the corrosive forces of Hollywood. Starting from Anger’s sensationalist tracking of Frances Farmer’s long, sad descent into madness, all roads have led to the sanatorium.

The main thoroughfare is the derelict drag of Sunset Blvd. Billy Wilder was the first to conjure a human manifestation of filmmaking’s maggoty underbelly with Norma Desmond, a crumbling grand dame cannily played by crumbling grand dame Gloria Swanson. Swanson applied the exaggerated techniques of silent film acting to the talkie form in order to create an affected style marked by its own period, a symbol of decay in an industry obsessed with the new and young. She constructed an insular fantasy life in her isolated castle lair as a coping mechanism for her fall from prominence, and for his blackest joke, Wilder allowed her delusions to become reality in the film’s concluding punch line. Norma’s deteriorating psyche imbues the film around her with a bit of her mania, too; a funeral for a chimp Charlestons along the line between the silly and the somber. Even as he verged on the outlandish, he struck a chord; Louis B. Mayer famously bellowed to Wilder at an L.A. screening, “You have disgraced the industry that made and fed you! You should be tarred and feathered and run out of Hollywood!”

But this strain of satire truly hit the fever-pitch sweet spot with S.O.B. in 1981, trading the showbiz-specific indignity of aging past relevance for that of creative compromise. Director Blake Edwards plays a cruel and pernicious god to his Job-like plaything of Felix Farmer (Richard Mulligan), a producer driven to desperation by his first flop and willing to do anything in order to salvage it. He’s put through the wringer several times over, bungling four suicide attempts in increasingly pathetic fashion before arriving at the epiphany that sex was the missing ingredient from his character study of a closed-off woman retreating into the recesses of her own mind. (All we see of the fictitious Night Wind is a disturbing, surreal dream sequence set to “Polly Wolly Doodle” twice over, first as an unsettling juvenile fantasy and then as a doubly unsettling eroticized juvenile fantasy.)

The film industry, at least as it’s shown here, doesn’t function like other professional sectors. Nobody really knows what’s going to connect with an audience and what won’t, and to those working on the inside, it often feels like no rhyme or reason governs the separation of hits and misses. Edwards makes Felix into the casualty of a sense-defying work culture, where no bad idea or underhanded maneuver is off limits so long as it yields success at the end of the day. Felix grows deranged as a result of his constant humiliation, and resolves to play as dirty as the weaselly studio executives who cheat him out of the rights to his picture once it starts to look like a success. By the moment he’s killed due to his own harebrained plan, he’s been reduced to a nattering nutjob, martyred by a system seemingly resistant to logic.

Robert Altman would torment another power-producer to the point of breaking a decade later with The Player, but the next film to actively integrate the mentality of lunacy into its overall atmosphere would be the gleefully unhinged Death to Smoochy. (It’s no coincidence that all the films mentioned so far drew powerfully polarized reactions at the time of their release; a draught this bitter has never gone down easy.) Shifting to the other side of the camera, director Danny DeVito mined laughs by transposing the cutthroat nature of big-leagues entertainment to the bush leagues of kids’ shows. He juxtaposed the core nastiness of back-room wheeling and dealing with the outward-facing nicety of Barney and his ilk, and in doing so, delivered an uncommonly misanthropic take on how the sausage of entertainment gets made.

Moreover, the film presented a physical manifestation of hyperactive id in Robin Williams’ corrupt, ruthless kiddie showman Rainbow Randolph. Starting at a coked-out 10 and only turning the dial higher from there, Williams rendered his role as a manifestation of pure, white-hot hate, screaming every line at the top of his lungs. As he goes about his dogged mission to dethrone his replacement Smoochy (Ed Norton as the chipper Sheldon Mopes), DeVito suggests that Randolph’s frenzied dysfunction simply reflects the fucked-upped-ness of his climate. The ostensibly incorruptible Sheldon is offered the seductions of money, pleasure, and influence, and while he’s able to remain true to his principles in the face of it all, Randolph’s the foil illustrating what happens to those without the required moral fortitude. He has a near-complete psychotic break at feature length, his mind irreparably warped by the deleterious forces of televised playtime.

Tropic Thunder took a more specific set of reference points for its deflation of Hollywood ego and pretension, ultimately driving its subjects to the brink of sanity as well. Namely, the myth of Francis Ford Coppola and the notoriously calamitous production of Apocalypse Now (dutifully chronicled in the making-of documentary Hearts of Darkness) provided the guideline for this send-up of war films and the people who play make-believe in them. Coppola reportedly went a touch native while mounting his titanically ambitious epic in the jungles of Vietnam, and likewise, the prima donna actors dropped into the wild start to lose it when they realize the danger they’re in is bona fide.

Writer/director/star Ben Stiller gets in some good potshots at scuzzy corporate types (Tom Cruise’s craven studio head Les Grossman comes off looking the worst of all), but mainly lampoons the actors taking their craft seriously enough to lose sight of themselves. Both Stiller’s macho action hero and Robert Downey Jr.’s award-festooned boob slip into their assigned roles, extending Method acting to the point of fractured identity. Rather than taking aim on the machinery that generates movies, Stiller trains his crosshairs on the process of acting itself, mocking those artistes so wrapped up in “becoming” their role that they can’t tell where it begins and they end. Stiller accelerates their mental strain by dumping the cast in enemy territory, but they don’t end up anywhere that Jared Leto hasn’t gone of his own volition.

Just about all entertainment that goes behind the scenes of entertainment agrees that the job’s not a part-time gig, that creating art on this kind of scale demands a lot from the people involved. The gentler critiques have stopped the symptoms at workaholism, but these more incisive films expand that list to include a wide array of psychological hazards. Los Angeles runs on hysteria, on the single-minded willingness to do anything and everything to make the show go on. The innumerable “troubled-but-brilliant” biopics have made the suggestion that inner anguish is the noble sacrifice that true talents make for shouldering the burden of genius; in an art form as prone to disaster, complication, and overall FUBARification as cinema, it’s just the cost of doing business.

[headoverhiddles]

Moonlit [Lafayette x Reader]

Pairing: Lafayette/Reader

Genre: Smut 

Words: 4.8 k

Synopsis: You’ve been working at summer camp, Camp Rochambeau, as a counsellor for a while with your closest friends and boyfriend. One night, you and Laf can’t keep your hands off each other... so you’ll have to find a way to sneak something in in the dark of his bunk.  

Warnings: Daddy kink, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk... I think that’s it, lol. Enjoy the sin! 

It's a day like any other at Camp Rochambeau, wilderness overnight summer fun camp. Alexander, John, and Hercules had just come back from the junior camping trip, Thomas and James were supposed to be teaching intermediate swimming, but you were pretty sure James was too sick to even come out of Cabin 6 (and Thomas was too worried to leave his side), Aaron and Charles were on first aid duty, Eliza and Maria were overseeing junior arts and crafts, Angelica and Pegs were doing intermediate archery, which left you and Laf... to the sailing.

"Good day for sailing, at least," you mumble, the breeze blowing your hair, "The lake'll get some good wind power."

"Mmm... I'm sorry, did you say something, ma chou?" Laf whispered, leaning in, "I was distracted by the little juncture of your jaw and your neck, where I always make you squeal." You let out a laugh.

"Lafayette Motier, you frisky fuck!"

He grins, and picks you up while showering a billion kisses over your face. You soon get to thinking about last night, when you two had sneaked out of your cabin once you were sure everyone was asleep to stargaze on the docks. The water bugs were out, as were the fireflies, and it was all so romantic... you half expected Hercules, John and Alex to pop out from the reeds to sing 'Kiss The Girl'. Laf, of course, needed no prompting in that department- he certainly delivered with his lips, as per usual. But, as Washington had a zero tolerance policy on horny teenage antics at his camp ("I've seen Friday the 13th and Sleepaway Camp, I know what y'all are up to behind my back!")  you hadn't gone anywhere with it last night. After an hour or so of simply cuddling beneath the stars, you had somehow gravitated to his lap with your back to his chest, his sweet voice whispering the most beautiful things you had ever heard in french in your ear... and, Laf being Laf, had two fingers up your skirt. You had come so close to the touch, almost tugging your panties down, when you two heard a splash across the lake. Fearing a total slasher flick moment, you had kept yourself huddled behind Laf, who had since put on the macho act and vowed to protect you. The two of you made your way through the forest (which was actually quite creepy at night), and over to the site of the splash... only to find three twelve year olds, peer-pressuring each other into skinny dipping.

Well.

"Off to bed with you!" Laf had barked, scaring the children senseless. You tried to appear angry, but just ended up laughing your head off. The disturbance of what has since been christened the Great Pre-Pubescent Foley Of Cabin 8 (John and Alex's cabin; figures) prevented you from finishing anything with Laf that night. Needless to say, you're looking to fix that.

"A little lost, cherie?" Laf smirks, and you direct your attention back to him as he sets you down. You had finally made it to the docks through the forest path, the warm mid-day sun shining over both of you pleasantly. There were three shores on the small lake, that were each used for different purposes; this one, had a beaten up sign that read "Delaware Beach."

"Hm? No, I was just thinking, babe," you reply swiftly with a smile and a quick peck to his lips. You remove your shirt to reveal the camp uniform over your red bikini, the beach shorts purposely loose so Laf could catch a glimpse of the string of your tiny bottoms pulled tight over your hipbones. His eyes roam your body, and stall at your breasts that are quite visible under the white shirt... that's when you know you'll have to formulate a real good excuse as to why you can't walk tomorrow.

"(y/n), (y/n)! Are we going to learn how to steer boats?" Theo, a cute junior kid who'd been coming here forever, asks you. You nod.

"You betcha, hun."

"Like Moana?!" Philip asks excitedly, bouncing around and almost falling off the dock. Lafayette steadies him.

"More like Hai-hai in your case, mon ami," he deadpans, and you quickly string up the sails.

"All aboard, lifejackets on and secured!"

The children get on the sailboat, and you make sure to bend over in full view of Lafayette's line of sight- he'd get the same view tonight, of course. You hear his breath hitch, but when you turn away, he reluctantly starts the lesson.

As you're sailing past the east shore of the lake, Vernon Point, you find Thomas and James making out in the water, their kids laying belly up and tanning on the dock.  

"I see you're taking the swimming lesson seriously," you smirk, and Thomas breaks away from his boyfriend's lips temporarily to snark back at you.

"A little sun'll do 'em all good... pasty little fuckers."

"I'm telling Director Washington you called us a bad word!" someone shrieks.

"Do it and die, Susanne," the southern counsellor shoots back to the little girl, which seems to promptly shut her up.

"And I see you're feeling better, James," you remark, and James turns around, lips swollen.

"Significantly," he croaks, and Thomas growls ferally, going back in for another kiss. You laugh and shake your head, floating past on the boat. Laf is still up there, giving the rope lesson... what you wouldn't give to have him tie you up with those same ropes, the harsh tug of the material against your raw, sensitive wrists-

"Would you like to take over, (y/n)?" Laf asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and you rip your eyes from his crotch. How did they get there in the first place? Shit.

"Oh! Y-yeah! Okay, so the knot is absolutely key, um... George Eacker, stop trying to knock Philip off the bow, you know he can't swim!"

The rest of the day is agony. Torture. Nothing you had ever asked for. Lafayette's rippling muscles are getting in the way of everything you try to formulate speech-wise, and you can see the outline of his dick beneath his uniform swim trunks... he's so fucking hung that even soft he's prevalent.

The warmth pooling between your legs is even more intense by the time the evening campfire comes around.

"Alright," Hercules says, resting his elbows on his knees as the glow of the fire illuminates his features, "What I'm about to tell you is so scary... so terrifying... so utterly shocking that you'll have to sleep with the lights on tonight! This is the story... of-"

"Jefferson's hair!" Alexander cuts in, wiggling his fingers around and making ghost noises. The campers seem to find this hilarious, but James and Thomas are not amused where they sit with their group.

"The story of the Woodsman," Hercules finishes properly.

"Isn't that the guy from the Wizard of Oz?" Philip whispers to Theo, who shook her head.

"No, that's the Tin Man."

"Are you sure we should really be telling them this story?" Aaron asks, knitting his brows, "It's a little... adult, don't you think?"

"Shut up, Burr," Laf calls, "You are the worst!" John joins in, heckling their friend as Alex laughs into his sugary mug of coffee. Aaron just sighs, throwing up his hands. He was probably the only good counsellor here, who took his job seriously. The children all huddle up and lean closer as Herc begins the story.

"It all started back in '84, when a dude named Jimbo Jones got into a wood-chopping accident..."

As you listen to one of your best friends tell the story in grave, (unnecessarily gory, as only Herc would) detail, you feel Lafayette shift on the log beside you. As Hercules continues to describe the deranged psychopath that stalks the woods of Camp Rochambeau for revenge, you suddenly feel Laf's hand brush the skin of your bare thigh, and wander a little higher. Thankfully, there's a giant blanket over you and a few other counsellors, so nobody can see... Judging by his ministrations, he's getting restless.

"And they say he can jump out of the woods at any time..." Herc looks around ominously, squinting at all the quivering kids, "Yelling his chilling last words-"

"SHOWTIME!" John yells with a maniacal laugh, jumping out from behind a tree swinging a prop axe right into Charles Lee’s head. Charles lets out a bloodcurdling scream, whipping around to glare at his fellow counsellor and mortal enemy. Philip faints into a shaking Theo's arms. Herc has his head in his hands, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks- even Maria looks a little startled. Alexander high fives his boyfriend, and Laurens sits back down with a dumb grin on his face. Lafayette gives an appreciate chuckle and you both high five Herc. The group settles down.

"Alright- GWash wants y'all in bed in ten minutes!" Hercules calls, then pauses, looking around at everyone. "But we won't tell if you won't." The kids cheer, and you watch Aaron facepalm.

No wonder parents complained about this god damn camp.

"No more marshmallows though, everyone," you say, "That goes for everyone." Thomas stops dead from across the fire, three stuffed in his mouth. You roll your eyes, and Herc speaks up again.

"You know who tells great ghost stories?" he grins. "'Liza does."

Eliza flips her long hair over her shoulder, smiling. "Well... I do know one. But..." she sighs dramatically, peering off, "I don't think you kids can handle it."

"Awwww-!"

"No, no, it's just too scary."

"Nooo, please-!"

"Well..." she laughs, "If you insist. But Peggy'll have to help me, cause she knows this one- the Blue Baby Bonnet."

As two of the Schuyler sisters begin to act out the legend, you feel Laf's hand move even higher, barely grazing the sensitive spot on your inner thigh that gets you tingling. You let out a tiny moan, shifting ever so slightly. At this, he leans in, turning his face away to whisper in your ear, "Hmm, does ma princess need her daddy?"

You suck in a breath, maintaining your smile for appearances and the children around. You clap every time Eliza needs thunder in her story, but you're also invested in what the salacious frenchman beside you has to say.

"I assume you do... why else would ma cherie be so dripping wet?"

"Laf," you breathe quietly, and you feel his long fingers graze dangerously close to your panties, under your shorts. He evades the hem of the shorts, and goes straight for your clit, rubbing small circles through the fabric.

"Ahhh," you moan softly, and Eliza turns to you.

"Well... I mean, that's not exactly the noise her mother made when she came back to find what had happened, but close enough!" She goes on with her story as Lafayette leans in again.

"I wonder how hard I can make you beg for my thick, long cock... how badly do you want it?"

"I want it so badly," you mumble, his beard scratching your cheek as he hums again.

"What do you want, cherie?" His lips ghost over your ear, down to your jaw. You seriously hope no one's watching- it's dark, with lots of shadows cast from the fire, so you're probably good.

"I..." you bite your lip, "I wanna ride your thigh, then ride your dick. I want you to make me cum so hard the whole camp knows it's you who fucked me," you whisper back with a blush, and Lafayette casts his gaze down, chuckling at what might appear to others as a joke you told him.

"In due time," he promises, letting up on his rubbing, and you groan in disappointment. John looks over to you, and sees your face... he knows what it's like to have lots of semi-public sex, courtesy of his kinky shithead of a boyfriend, so he can immediately tell what's going on. He stifles a laugh, and James speaks up now.

"Bedtime, everyone."

"But-!"

Thomas interjects. "Nah, y'all little shhh...oelaces gotta get into bed, so we can too," he corrects himself quickly. James sighs.

"Yes. Remember- wakeup call is seven AM sharp, and Washington makes no exceptions."

"Takes no prisoners, more like," Angelica yawns.

"He sure as hell doesn't," Alexander mutters, "Not even for us big people."

"Oui oui, off to bed," Laf says, clapping his hands, almost a little too eagerly, and you join in with a little send-off.

"Sleep tight- we'll all be in to check on our cabins once we get the fire doused and the pit cleaned up, so brush your teeth and get going." The kids get up sluggishly, moaning and groaning about having to go to bed, so you cross your arms. "Do you really want the real Jimbo Jones to get you?!"

The kids quickly disperse, chatting nervously amongst themselves about the plausibility of the legends they had just been told. Lafayette smirks your way, and you literally cannot even wait until you're off your feet, in his arms, and in his bed. Heading back to the cabin you're supposed to share with Peggy (you switch with Herc whenever she wants to sleep with her boyfriend and you want to sleep with yours), you grab your night stuff, and oversee the bedtime preparations for the kids.

"What's Laffy Taffy doing here?" one of your cabin kids asks you. It's kind of cute how they call him that.

"He's just saying good night to me," you smile, tucking her in.

"Ohhh," she looks over to her friend knowingly, "Does this mean Hercules is coming over to be our monitor again?"

"Uhhh..." you murmur, unsure of how much she knows.

"My mommy says when people like each other a whole lot, they like to hug all night when they go to bed. Is that what you're doing with Laffy Taffy?"

"That is exactly what we are doing, ma petite fleur," Laf comes in behind you with a little boy hanging off his leg, "I love to hug (y/n), more than the world. Do you have anybody you like to hug a whole lot?" You can't contain the smile- your boyfriend is adorable.

"Well, I like to hug my mommy, my mama, my grandpa, my granny, my friend Jessica, my uncle, my dog, my cat, my hamster..." she trailed off, yawning and falling asleep. You look back at Laf.

"Thank god you know how to do that." He flashes you a kiss.

"I have many tiny cousins back in France." He then turns out the light once everyone's in bed. As you're leaving Cabin 10, Herc shows up at the porch, fist bumping you and Laf with a wink.

"Don't be too loud, though," he warns, "Wash's got eyes and ears everywhere."

"Merci. We will keep that in mind, mon ami."

Herc nods. "Got you, fam."

Glancing around conspiratorially and fixing his coat, Herc slips into your cabin to find Peggy in the dark. You giggle, and Laf leads you down the beaten path, illuminated by a plastic battery-run torch kept outside every cabin in case of emergency. Your favourite part of summertime at Rochambeau, while you love being around the kids and the fun outdoor activities, is the shenanigans you get up to after hours. There's nothing more thrilling than sneaking through the brush in the middle of the wilderness to go get down.

When you finally make it to Cabin 4, you sneak in quietly with Laf, making sure not to step on a board or anything that would wake the kids. Thankfully, the bunk for the counsellors in every cabin is placed in the main entrance, so the three rooms that house the rest of the inhabitants aren't immediately near.

Laf takes your hand, easing you on top of him on the bottom bunk.

"Shouldn't we do this on the top?" you breathe, his hands already hurriedly undoing your bra, "In case someone walks in on us?"

"Ma cherie, if we fucked up there, we would break it," he whispers back with a low chuckle, and you laugh, beginning to massage him through his shorts. He responds with wandering hands, feeling down your shoulders and to your hips. Your bra slips out from under your shirt, but before you take your top off, you think of something.

"I'll keep it on, just in case," you murmur, and though Laf looks a little disappointed, he nods. You smirk. "Don't fret, baby... you can still touch me all you want." Lafayette eyes you hungrily, as if he wants to devour you, and you lean down into him, letting his lips latch onto your neck. He groans, admiring the deep purple mark he left on your collarbone.

"How are you going to cover that up tomorrow, mmm?"

"Lots of concealer and an out of season scarf," you grin, and push him down, taking his bottom lip between your teeth. After making out for a few minutes, you start feeling so hot you can barely breathe. Lafayette is dry humping you from beneath, his cock, which has filled out nicely by now, slotted between your legs and providing some stunning friction to bounce back against. But you don't just want to grind against him- you need him inside you.

"You've been such a good girl for me, hm?" Lafayette mumbles affectionately, playing with your hair, "Such a good kitten for daddy."

"Yeah, I've been good," you repeat, letting out a little whine. You want to taste his dick so bad that you begin to mouth kisses down his chest, to his stomach, down to where his penis is restricted tightly against his abdomen in boxers.

"Ahhh, tres jolie," he whispers, watching you slide down, and his eyebrows shoot up when he sees you going down on him.

"I want to taste you for hours," you grin back up, "I wanna watch your face when I take you in my mouth and put these lips to good use." Laf groans.

"(y/n), what you do to me..."

"Try not to moan too loud," you smile, and throw the covers over your head as you settle between your boyfriend's legs. You then take him out of his boxers, feeling the heavy weight of his erection in your hand before giving a tiny lick to his tip. His head falls back into the pillow, a sharp puff of air escaping his lips, and he lets his thigh slide between your legs, so you can ride it. Slowly dragging yourself against him and humming, you continue to take him in your mouth, this time all the way down to the base where a few dark curls tickle your nose. Laf's own nose scrunches up as he pants your name softly.

"So thick," you comment, "You've got such a nice cock, Laf... mmmm...." Closing your mouth back around him, you hollow out your cheeks, taking time to trace your tongue along every vein and unique dip on the underside. A few more minutes of this, the quiet slurping noises under the sheets and bounce of your wet panties against his knee arousing you both, Laf grimaces, rubbing a soothing hand down your head.

"Ma chou, I... ahhh am so close... I do not want to leave you unsatisfied."

Suddenly, you both hear a very small voice emerge from one of the rooms, and see a little kid come over.

"Laf? Herc?" they ask meekly. You stall your movements, hoping the kid can't see the lump under the sheets in the dark. Lafayette swallows, closes his eyes, fakes rousing awake, and smiles warmly.

"Andrew," he says, yawning, "Hercules has gone to get some tea from the mess hall. Are you alright?"

You listen in as the kid explains that he misses his family, and that he is homesick. As Laf is formulating an answer and relaying it to the child, you take him all the way in again, feeling him hit the back of your throat.

"Yesss, I completely understand," Laf tries, biting his lip hard, "H-Have you tried thinking of what they are doing now? Perhaps your mere or pere are sleeping... perhaps they are watching a film?"

Andrew smiles, and from where you are, you hope he doesn't want to go home. That would require Laf getting up and taking him all the way to the nurse's office at the other side of the camp, which poor Martha ran 24/7, to call home.

"Are you alright then, petit ami?" Laf asks, and he has to suppress a moan as you lick him obscenely. After a minute, Andrew answers.

"Yeah. I'm gonna go back to bed. Thanks."

You both exhale a sigh of relief, then Laf waves to the kid as he toddles back to bed.

"That was close," you hiss as Laf pulls the blanket up. He gives you a stern look, and you giggle a little, letting him pull you back up to him.

"I was going to come all over your face without warning," Lafayette whispers to you with a growl, "What a surprise that would have been, non?"

You grin wickedly. "Not an unwelcome one." You continue to giggle, surging forward to capture his lips in a kiss. Laf's head falls back to the pillow so that your body is completely resting on his. His hands find the back of your head, threading through your hair and whispering his intentions to you.

"I am going to fuck you until you cannot move," he growls, soft, innocent personality momentarily broken, "I am going to make you come so hard you will scream my name and wake the whole camp."

"Get down to doing," you whisper back, and roll your hips down against him.

"You are wearing too much, ma cherie," he hisses, and flips you over, making you squeal. He kisses your neck again, pulling your panties down. Tossing them completely off, he brings his fingers to rest on your inner thigh, teasing the soft skin there with little tickling circles. Shivers run up to your core, and you groan quietly, wiggling your hips to try and get him to touch you properly. He smiles, and patters his fingers even closer.

"Is... this what you want, ma fleur?" he asks, eyes wide and innocent. You nod feverishly, and he barely grazes your clit with his thumb. "Oh, this? Are you quite certain?" You glare down at him, and he laughs. "Excuse moi... I think I do, in fact, know what you need." With little warning, he slides two fingers into your pussy, curving them up and eliciting a soft, breathy sigh from you.

"Laf..." you gasp, "Lafayette..."

"Could you come on two of my fingers alone, ma cherie? I bet you could if we tried very hard..."

"Laf, please," you encourage, and he chuckles again, adding a third. You let out a string of not-so-hushed moans, light and airy, and though Lafayette is adjusting himself so that his boner gets a little friction, you marvel at his self control. He was always a gentleman in the bedroom, though- almost disregarding his own strong sex drive for your pleasure first. When you're sure you're going to come, he pulls out his fingers, leaving your chest heaving and fists clenching in the blanket. You look down in disappointment, and all you can see in the dark is his frizzy bun by your stomach.

"Laf!"

"Shhh... we don't want to wake the Woodsman, do we?" he teases, and you swat him as he finally tosses one leg over you. Spreading your legs for him and wrapping them around, you reach under the mattress and feel around for the stash of condoms... pulling one out, you pass it to Laf, and he rolls it on, the crinkle of the foil plus the crickets outside the only sound you can hear for miles. Laf tries to prop your leg up higher and spread himself out a little, but ends up half-slipping off the bed... you have to stifle a laugh at his disconcerted little frown; you always have problems with this- the beds were cramped, mostly because they weren't made for two. George's horny teenage proof cots strike again.

"There, I have figured it out," Laf whispers triumphantly, "If you put your right leg over my shoulder, and I keep my left leg down at the foot of the bed, we can do this." You do as he says, and he slowly eases himself inside of you, the slide easy with how wet you already are. His girth increases as he buries himself further, stretching your walls, and it feels so fucking good you feel you could come on his cock right there.

"Move, ahh, daddy, please," you murmur, taking in a sharp breath, and he draws out, pushing back in even deeper. Lafayette continues to thrust in and out of you, carefully and masterfully rubbing circles around your clit, and you trace patterns down his naked, muscular back.

"Dig them in," Laf whispers in your ear, "Go ahead and mark your daddy, (y/n), ma chou, for I am yours." You cry out softly, scraping your nails up his back, and Laf groans at the stimulation, quickening his thrusts. After a few seconds of moaning, he begins to really pound into you, babbling in french as you squeeze around him and arch your back into his arms. Adding to the already amazing mix of sensations, his hard chest is pressed tightly against yours, massaging your breasts between the two of you and sending sparks of pleasure down to your core.

Suddenly, his foot slips, and it lands on the floor off the bed, but that only spurs him on faster, using his footing for more power and leverage. Driving into you like you need it more than air, Laf whispers all the things he's feeling to you as your breath comes out in short, gasped out puffs.

"Je veux te donner tout mon sperme... tu es à moi, mon amour, tu es la plus belle créature vivante que j'ai jamais vue, j'ai besoin de t'entendre gémir pour moi..." (I want to give you all of my cum... you are mine, my love, you are the most beautiful living creature I have ever seen, I need to hear you moan for me...)

"Laf," you shudder, and he bites down into your shoulder as you come hard around him. He makes sure you have hit your climax before releasing himself, his warm seed shooting into the condom. His body shivers with oversensitivity and exhaustion, the muscles in his arms keeping him up threatening to give out. You ease him down over you so that his head is buried in your neck, and your breath steadies as he makes little noises that resemble a cat. You turn over in preparation for some rest- you had to sleep, as you had to wake up fifteen minutes earlier than the others to switch back beds. You smile, patting his head, and he kisses your earlobe.

"Je t’aime," he murmurs sleepily, tugging off the condom and tying it off blindly. You breathe in the scent of french lavender in his curls as his big arms wrap back around you.

"Je t’aime plus que le monde," you mumble in reply, kissing him on the lips one last time.

-------

The next morning at 7:30 AM in the Mess, Washington looks utterly fatigued.

"What's wrong, sir?" Alex asks, walking by with a monstrous coffee mug, "You look like somebody just ran you over with a double decker tank."

George blinks at him, sighing. "I appreciate that, Alexander."

"Nah, but you do look a little loopy," John tilts his head, throwing one leg over the bench seat, "You good, sir?"

"I was up very late last night, John- some animal near the lower cabins was making a racket. I tried to go out and search for it in the forest, so I could shoo it away, but..." He rubs his temples. "It just kept going."

Lafayette plops down beside you, peeling the lids off the six tapioca pudding cups he had nabbed from the kitchen. "Mon general," he nods, because that's a name that just kind of stuck for George since you had been coming here.

"Lafayette," he nods, "Did you happen to hear the strange creature lurking around your cabin last night?" You pause, and Laf's eyes widen earnestly, reply not skipping a beat.  

"Oh, monsieur, I'm afraid I did not... but I think I did hear an awful disturbance around Cabin 6. Thomas?" he smirks at his close friend, and Thomas and James blush furiously.

"We didn't-"

"There wasn't-"

"I didn't hear any-"

"Well," George nods, "I'll sure have to keep my attention on that cabin. Don't want any of those raccoons."

"No we don't," Thomas grits out at you two, and you and your boyfriend collapse into giggles as George gives you a knowing look- nothing gets past that man.

[xottzot]

2017-12(DEC)-03rd---Sunday (late night)--my world predictions of AGAINness.

2017-12(DEC)-03rd---Sunday (late night)--my world predictions of AGAINness.

Putting this post alive before my internet fucks up again totally, as it alwasy does all the time, and WILL AGAIN, around Xmas and the new year.........

There will be the yearly annual crisis happening with/in Israel, andor the areas around it. Possibly a handy 'terrorist' attack to gain sympathy and bring in further draconian shit. :

Ditto for London. Probably heavier than before in order to hammer home things and to also bring in more draconian crap whilst simultaneously giving MORE lattitude and complete immunity to others who already have it now. :

All and any of the above on new places around the world. Australia is ripe for being a focus for all of the shit. And handy too is they don't want to disrupt things too much for the chosen ones elsewhere in the world. :

Plague andor new rampant uncontrollable diseases, new strains of, new mutations of, outbreaks in places where it has never been ever before, affecting more people than any of it it has ever done before. :

More entirely people getting killed by crazed people in vehicles, running off roads onto footpaths, into buildings, into homes, into children andor adults like inlcuding the elderly and infirm. :

LOTS of public commemorative events for any of the above outcomes to distract and keep busy peopels minds from enquiring too much. If anyone dares to question anything, then they are simply accused of being insensitive to the memories of the fallen or insensitive to any survivors or family, thus heaping blame on anyone who dares question anything or even hints about doing so. ('little' children and babies are alwasy used as gods that nobody is allowed to upset in any way....and they are 'our' future....even the rampant criminals babies......). :

Planes will go 'missing'.....with the accompanying loss of life becoming yet other 'mysteries'...... :

Wonderous new inventions and innovations will be unveiled.......and everyone will believe it will be their salvation in their own personal ways....only to then be told that it's years away and still only 'in development'......alwasy 'in development'...... :

Commemorations of old wars and miliatry crap. - (It IS going on even now and has been for awhile in Australia.) They're now going back further to older military events and painting it all as 'necessary actions' that absolutely HAD TO BE DONE.....and roll-on still more commemorations to crap nobody cared about and has been long forgotten but is dredged up again and again so ancient wars and crap 100 years ago or more are portrayed as almost having just occured. - Mindless people suddenly switch on to having sympathy to the 'winning' survivors and nothing is worried about the 'losing' side. This helps to foment new antagonism to ancient 'foes' who have long been peaceful particpants in world affairs. - The young are especially targetted to accept all this thinking. Of course there's nobody living from very old wars to wear medals, so kids wear them as a 'mark of respect and rememeberance'......that's all used a ridiculous photo events.....as if the kids themselves had been in those wars..... (haven't yet reached the stage of kids uniforms sizes in pre-school sizes but it'll be 'SO CUTE' to see them babies in uniforms of war...yes?)..... :

Certain toys are declared xtremely dangerous to children and banned. Meanwhile though, the miltary indoctrination aspects of everything is simply accepted more and indulged. - Military is exempt in all things. Forever wars are always handy for profits. :

Maybe identity devices andor implants are introduced for children as an aid to adults to safely keep track of them. Mobile phones are limited in their apects to all this and perhaps an instance or instances of something terrible will be made news to further the introducton of non-removalable, 'safe', bodily internal tracking devices, that (a lie) can be removed later when the child becomes an adult. (maybe make it a tremdy hip 'coming-of-age' ritual event?) - This is done to placate anyone for arguing over the scheme. -- Ditto for the elderly, and infirm andor disabled. -- Criminals will somehow be exempt, as will be the 'chosen rich and powerful people'. :

Food scares. Poisoness, debilitating, carthinogenic, or completely faked andor counterfeit food items. Baby food is always a handy target. As is 'health food'. Ditto for homegrown foods. - All is done to make you only purchase what is planned to make you purchase. :

Meat substitutes makes a huge impact, but at the same time is highly expensive for consumers. The rich, wealthy and powerful are exempt and simply continue on eating ordinary food at their whims. After all, they own vast resources of worlds food farms too. :

Let's not ever forget handy dandy North Korea, the ersatz 'evil Russian communists' for todays age......who are alwasy planning and cunning and always 'just about' to bring death and destruction to any and all...and who always are developing weapons and crap to bring about world war in any way it's possible and death to all. Meanwhile....the pure 'saintly' USA and any and everyone else just continues on as always without any controls or oversights. -- PLEASE nuke where I am and kill me, PLEASE with a NUKE BLAST!! :

The USA will 'suffer' another (annual) military false flag disaster and it's blamed on whomever they have long ago already decided to blame it upon. - Ditto for an attack on any of the USA's bases or installations or personnel walking down the street anywhere in the world. Also handy for their allies or those stooges (like Australia) the USA wants to fight the USA's wars for them. :

Haven't had decent UFO incidents for quite awhile. Surely false flag events involving those should be well into going into execution by now. 'Evil aliens'......and el presidente Mr fake tan Wig will wet himself at the ooportunity to be seen to be acting as a warrior for all the world (aka Americans).......or..... :

el presidente Mr fake tan Wig will get assasinated or close to it, a replacement will come in and be accepted as a saviour and a worthy 'alternative' to the mad deranged vain el presidente...and maybe to help 'diplomatic relations' with extraterrestrial aliens and 'save the world'......but in actual fact it's all been planned and mapped out long, long ago and another planned person is plugged-in to the position...fake tan notwithstanding. :

The British Royals will have a wedding as a grand distraction (that's actually already in the works).....and another royal baby will pop out like a cork for hapless women and fops to goo-goo eye and fawn over worldwide and gush over whilst suporting any and everything that's decided without a second thought...... :

As an adjunct to the above, the royals will cry how poor they actually are. Anyone who disagrees, is vilified. (poor late Princess Diana never stood a chance in all this shit) -- King Charles could be to the rescue of the royals. Laws are changed, and the guy has been groomed long enough to be a suitable stooge and actor of the-powers-that-be. - Finally another King Charles! - Chosen plants will be happy. :

Australia will once again be involved in useless political crap that doesn't do anything and means nothing to ordinary people, (and in fact causes actual harm to people), but there's a massive lot of distractionabilty in all of that. - Australia has already been going through some of that and politicans have been wetting themselves with glee and self-loving. The usual evil politicians are again...evil. They have been joined by others in the newest world craze created forms of crap and that's the hoopla being a dual-citizenship, being a citizen of another country whilst claiming to be Australian and so being an Australian politician when they had no 'right' to be one. (HEY, I'M ONE TOO I'M A SPY FOR ENGLAND SO DEPORT ME TO ENGLAND!) -- Out of all this NOBODY talks about how wealthy Australian politicians actually are, and how much money they make, including the current head honcho multi-millionare leader of Australia. - But win, lose, or draw...they ALWASY win. -- Scale all this crap down to local elections you are also forced to vote in, as if your vote actually does anything in any election of any type. (that situation has been the case for a LONG LONG time and Australian people keep deluding themselves they have the 'power' of voting. That goes for worldwide too. What a joke.) :

Xmas celebrations become even more bland and mindless and worthless, with only the commercialisation aspects getting more powerful and untouchable and cannot be criticsed. (why not have Ronald McDonald as the REAL Santa? -- Ever notice how there's no black Ronald McDonald?) :

Is a grand plan for the 'revelations' about the deities ready to roll in yet? - That slots neatly into the manufactured UFO crap? - Xmas is the perfect occasion to give the presents to the world they don't love so hurry it up. Look, up in the sky, it's a bird, it's plane, it's Superman!...uh noooo, it's a drone...it's a UFO....it's the el presidente's wig flying about on it's own again....quick shoot it down befere it kills us all.......or spreads the plague...or craps on us again........ :

A LOT of all this stuff above also is for the 'New Year' period, the 'traditonal' terrorist massacres, the 'worthy' massacres of innocents by those massive powers that doesn't give a shit about anyone or anything, (and it's a great 'showcase' for new weaponry they're trying to sell), new disease fighting methods and inventions (with a handy timely medical disaster to address with it)......and on and on and on..... :

Will Australia be the first country to go completely 'cashless'? - It's a great way to secretly milk away money from countries too when it's all electronic. - The poor don't get poorer, they die off. The rich don't just get more rich, they become untouchable...until it's THEIR turn to be wiped out by those above them and they'll cry diamond encrusted tears of woe...... :

Lets' have yet MORE war movies....semi-fictionals.....they're always handy for patriotistic pants wettings and indoctrinations....can't have factual documentries anymore......it makes people too 'smart'...... :

Australia becomes yet another country unable to feed itself from the masses of food it grows, farms and creates, despite it having surpluses because the surpluses are 'contracted' to go offshore and to other countries and none of it is 'allowed' to be used here in Australia unless premium prices are paid. -- Eating kangaroos and emus (Australia's national emblem critters) are touted as 'sustainable food' for Australian. - Aboriginals get up in arms and lay copyright over kangaroos and emus...and succeed...and become wealthy kangaroro and emu 'farmers'.....with the profits (as alwasy with anything Aboriginal) mystriously disappearing and being unable to be accounted or explained where it all went when anything is ever investigated and is simply smoke that vanishes forever.......'put another roo on the barbie will ya'....... :

Electricity....Australia keeps running out of electrcity (as if it's water)......and despite the grand hooplah of the state of South Australia having their own 'almost free' Tesla power generation, it's just a drop in an vast ocean of need and Australia still can't make enough electricity for itself depsite the 'downturn' of manufacturing and the asbolute past lies that because of losing manufacturing production in Australia, that more electricity woud be about for everyone...and be cheap. -- Electricity is the new 'oil' scam of today and rorted. -- Strange how 'terrorists' never attack and disable such places eh? (except when it's secretly done without 'terrorists' and passed off as 'technical faults'.)

and locally, at this hellhole, the same old, same old shit goes on.....the criminals get worse and worse in ever more inventive ways...the toddlers in diapers still run free range all over the roads as well as the other criminal kids who never ever go to school....the get watched up all the time by departments and indulged and 'helped'....and everyone else is not included at all of course. - One latest spin is having abo men 'escorting' abo toddlers on foot scooters on the roads (to keep them 'safe') but is in fact just teaching toddlers to use roads as personal footpaths...AGAIN....STILL.......AS ALWAYS.......to be run over and killed.....or.......

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I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you just as you promised us both and where YOU can be the absolute boss of everything and have final say on any and everything. - - It's hot and airless in this hovel despite it having rained. (yes it DID rain a little, however it was only lightly but over a long period) Sam & Max got wet. The mozzies are everywhere. Spiders are everwhere. - In a LOT of pain. -- I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you. SAVE ME DEAR FLISS. The world and this hellhole is fucking up at an increasingly more rapid pace and has increased dramatically since you left me here to die in HELL. -- I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you. SAVE ME DEAR FLISS. SAVE ME. I WANT TO BE WITH YOU JUST AS YOU PROMISED.