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[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

[vivelareine]

I’m really sorry that people jump to conclusions about you being a royalist. You seem to be quite nice and your posts are informative.

And it’s true that clergy and aristocracy at large benefitted from the rigged system. Also apparently the economy was already screwed up before, but Frev just had this specific set of precursor circumstances that lit up the powder keg, which was going to blow up eventually.

There is definitely a discussion to be had about all the nuances here, as Frev is a complicated subject.

Thank you! People can be... something, that's for certain.

I love nuanced discussions! I think they're especially fascinating when it comes to this era.

Like I love the fact that we can discuss how Marie Antoinette was personally charitable and kind, but that her personal charity and kindness existed in this almost incomprehensible vacuum of extreme wealth vs poverty.

To use an example I talked about on Twitter, there was an assistant gardener for the hameau de la reine who became ill shortly after being hired, and Marie Antoinette ended up spending almost 2000 livres (a hefty sum--the annual salary of the head gardener was considered a respectable 1500 livres per year, with room and board) on his medical care alone. When it became clear he would not regain his health, she paid for him to return home to England, with a large sum so he could set himself up somewhere.

This assistant gardener's annual salary, had he stayed to work at Versailles? 50 livres, which did include room and board, but still, 50 livres per year.

Now to take an EXTREME example, the infamous bracelets that Marie Antoinette purchased and her mother harassed her over cost 250,000 liveres. It would take 5000 years of this assistant gardener's salary to buy a pair of bracelets that she purchased on a whim. (Now this is an EXTREME example, because everyone considered these bracelets horrendously expensive and extravagant, and it was purchased during her short yet very significant 'wilder' days.)

So it's this fascinating contrast of, her being personally kind and thinking nothing of making sure he had medical care and personally seeing to it that he's not just kicked out of France with nothing and no way to live... and realizing that this personal kindness and compassion existed within this system of massive inequality.

It reminds me of the scene in Ever After (listen I will use any excuse to bring the movie up) where Danielle-in-disguise, after the prince frees the servant from the cart taking them to be indentured servants until they die: "You gave one man back his life, but did you even glance at the others?"

And not in the sense that I think Marie Antoinette would have been like "free this one man!" and ignored everyone else, but the sense that she gave charity, compassion, cared for others, paid for the upkeep of various families and watched over their children's well-being etc etc on a personal level... but she did not comprehend the need for systematic change outside of that very limited scope.

Re; Nuance...

Nuance gets lost a lot, on both sides.

IMO, I don't think people should expect to be taken seriously when talking about history if they are either huffing and puffing about Marie Antoinette being a bitch tyrant who got what she deserved, or if they're wringing their hands and saying Louis was perfect and the revolutionaries were devil worshipers who are burning in hell for daring to revolt.

(And like, I GET... if you just glance at my blog, you might go, oh wow, this person is really Marie Antoinette themed. Must be one of those people who thinks her life was the Sofia Coppola movie. But if you think that and you haven't bothered to read my blog or any of my social media, don't come up at me with some random BS like that and expect to be taken seriously. It's basic common sense and respect.)

[valkyrieromanoff]

Michael B Jordan x actress!reader

I fell in love with Killmonger again thanks to Wakanda Forever 💖😍 After rewatching my favourite Michael B Jordan movies, I couldn't help but disassociate a little bit. So, hope you enjoy it! 💘✨

│CASTING

Y/N always knew she wanted to be an actress. Since she was a little girl and watched with her grandmother some novelas, trying to memorize the lines so she could recite it late at night in her bed. She dreamed to one day star in one of the Hollywood films she had grown up watching; one day she would meet her favorite actors and, if she was lucky, perform alongside them.

At eighteen, with a scholarship for a theater course and her dreams, she moved to LA. The first few weeks were magical; everything was new, and she found herself walking through the locations of her favorite movies. The fantasies quickly ran out of steam; the scholarship was full but didn’t cover her expenses, and with her savings dwindling and the money running out like water, Y/N needed a job.

Luckily, a Mexican restaurant was hiring, so Y/N put her Spanish skills to use and got the job with a little persistence and kindness. Although it was a part-time position, she occasionally put in extra time to make up for going out to auditions.

It was her 100th casting test when her nineteenth birthday arrived. Her roommates sung "happy birthday" and bought her a cupcake. Wishing she had  lucky, Y/N blew the candle.

 ◦ ◦ ◦

"They're looking for a Latina actress between the ages of 18 and 24." Julie, one of her roommates, said while grabbing a flyer. "They left it at the college; I thought you may give it a try."

“I guess; It won't harm to give it a shot.” Y/N muttered.

That's how she ended up in a chair, dangling her feet nervously, waiting her turn. Each girl returning from the test had a mixture of delight and disappointment on their faces, leaving her confused. Y/N reread the script for the fiftyth time when her name was called. Before stepping into the room, she took a big breath.

“So when you're ready, Y/LN.” As he sat down next to three other people, the producer spoke.

Y/N inhaled deeply, closed her eyes to get into character, and started reciting her lines.

"The real monsters don’t hide in the dark, under your bed, or in the woods." While speaking, she slowly raised her gaze. “They live with us; we pass them on the streets daily." 

"The truly terrifying monsters are the ones who smile at you before stabbing your back." 

Y/N clenched her jaw and took a moment to reflect.

"The real monsters are the ones we call family. The ones we trust with our darkest secrets and fears. Those who should be protecting us are the first to twist a knife in the face of our faults when we least expect it." As she spoke, tears started to form in her eyes.

Y/N expressed gratitude and waited for the producer's debate with his assistants. She wrung her hands nervously, doing a breathing exercise to keep calm.

"Well, we appreciate your performance, but we need to see if you get along with the cast." The producer spoke up, pulling out a piece of paper and holding out his hand. "Memorize these lines and return in about ten minutes.”

 ◦ ◦ ◦

When Y/N returned, someone was already standing in the center of the room. It was a tall man dressed in a sweatshirt ensemble, his face was tilted as he held the script in his hands. 

"Ready, Y/LN?" The man turned around in response to the producer's question.

Y/N gasped as she realized that the person she would be acting with was  Michael B. fucking Jordan. She brought her hand to her mouth to pull herself together, nodding her head for them to begin.

"You can't believe what they say; it's all just lies. They want to play with your mind, manipulate you so you won't be able to escape their sick game." Michael stated incisively.

"It's funny because they said the same thing about you." Y/N replied while focusing on his eyes. "Why should I believe you are telling the truth?"

"I’d never lie to you." When she turned away, he assured her.

“Well, it seems that they were right. You cannot prove your point.” Y/N said as she started to leave.

Michael held her arm, pulling her back into place and lessening the previous distance.

"And how did they prove it to you? What was the excuse, huh? that they are your family?"

Y/N anxiously bit her lip.

"I can't force you to believe what I say; that is your own choice to decide which course you will take.” Michael spoke while resting his hand on her chest's left side.

While struggling to hold his eyes, Y/N gasped, her heart beating and her cheeks flushed. 

"Your heart will tell you what to do; follow your instincts, and if it decides to go beside me,” He held her chin with his other hand. “I'll be waiting for you."

The intensity of his words gave Y/N shivers, and she had to use all her self-control to keep from fainting in his arms.

“How can I tell if I'm making the right decision? “ As his palm touched her cheek, Y/N asked while tightly closing her eyes.

"You can't, but you've to believe in yourself." Her eyes opened as Michael ended the scene;  they stared at each other for a few seconds before the producer exclaimed ‘cut’.

"Congratulations, then! You have the part. You’ll get an email with the information in two to three days.” After standing up to greet her, the producer spoke.

“Oh my goodness, thank you.” Y/N cheered enthusiastically. “Thank you so much, I won't disappoint." 

The producer simply nodded his head in agreement and left. Y/N shouted enthusiastically while using a few brazilian swear words to express her happiness.

“I don't know what you said, but I hope it was cheerful.” Michael B. Jordan commented behind her, causing her to leap forward. “Oh my bad. I didn't mean to scare you."

"That's okay. I had my head in the clouds. It’s just hard to believe that this is actually happening.” Y/N admitted while grinning.

"Try to believe it; you did a great job and deserved that role." With a hand on her shoulder, Michael reassured her. "Catch you at the recording.”

Y/N shook her head, too stunned to speak. When she confirmed that she was the only one in the room, she whispered a hushed ‘porra’.

[artoile]

Phantom Thief Jamil AU feat. Ruggie and Ace.

(Yes Ace's cotsume is a combination of KID's and his ghostmari outfit. More AU notes under the cut)

Ruggie: A cat burglar from Sunset Savanna. Met Jamil when they targeted Sunset Savanna’s royal treasury simultaneously by pure happenstance. After being cornered by Leona’s countermeasures against burglary, they managed to escape by working together and relying on the other’s magic. Realising they could benefit from cooperation, they struck a business arrangement in which they execute heists together and split the spoils. Though they can hardly be considered “friends” given the constant suspicion, there’s still a level of camaraderie and understanding between them. Jamil typically masterminds the heists and Ruggie follows his instructions, but is frequently derailed by his own agenda and greed. They both lead their regular, day to day lives separately, but they’ll make the necessary arrangements to meet before executing a heist. After Octa is hired by the Asim family to investigate the thieves, Jamil moves strings for Ruggie to get a job at the pop-up lounge location and keep an eye on the fish. Unbeknownst to them both, Ruggie was already on Octa’s radar due to him robbing a safe in one of the Lounge’s branch locations in the past, but they agree to hire him in order to monitor his actions as well. Ruggie happens to enjoy his job at the lounge, and is a pretty competent worker, so Octa isn’t planning on getting rid of him…yet. (Keep your enemies close…)

Ace: A traditional phantom thief à la Kaitou KID. He currently works as an intern at a travelling circus from the Queendom of Roses where his older brother stars as the stage magician. He doesn’t have a leading role himself so he’s typically relegated to grunt work behind the scenes. He starts an undercover career as a phantom thief purely out of boredom and dissatisfaction with his current lot and does it for the thrill. His heists are performances that showcase his magic and sleight of hand skills. He’s well liked as a magician and there’s lots of speculation regarding his identity, which helps stroke his ego, but he has a tendency to overestimate himself and get in trouble. He publicly challenged Jamil to a heist, claiming he could steal Jamil’s target first. To the public eye, that appeared to be the case: Ace put on a flashy show…only to get trapped by him and Ruggie as he made his escape. Because of this, Jamil and Ruggie are aware of his civilian identity, but he isn’t aware of theirs. They allowed him to go and promised to keep his secret…in exchange for him providing assistance whenever requested. Jamil has been blackmailing him to act as bait for some time now, but it’s not like he’s able to refuse. Kalim frequents the circus whenever it visits the Scalding Sands, so the two have crossed paths normally without Ace knowing.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Pitch for a reimagining of Ace Attorney:

1) The game’s title

ACE ATTORNEYS

2) What’s the major reimagining?

Instead of a detective game, the game is choice-based along the lines of Telltale (like Walking Dead) and Quantic Dream (like Detroit Become Human). So you can actually lose the case and still finish the game.

Also, instead of different episodes with its own case, we have three cases that are played out simultaneously. We switch off between the 3 protagonists, just like Detroit Become Human.

Lastly, this’ll be more realistic than the original games. For this write-up, I’m using my own personal experience as a lawyer-in-training.

3) Storylines

(Note: Keep in mind, all these storylines are happening simultaneously with each other. The game switches POVs)

Storyline A: Local fortune-teller Maya Fey has been arrested for the murder of her older sister, Mia. Maya hires defense attorney Phoenix Wright, who also brings on a co-counsel, Franziska von Karma, who recently passed the bar (reference to OG Franziska being really young). The prosecutor is Miles Edgeworth, who has no prior connection to Franziska and Phoenix in this reimagining.

Storyline B: Phoenix Wright is currently going through a bitter divorce against his wife, Dahlia Hawthorne-Wright. They are fighting over everything, such as ownership of the Wright Law Firm, their house, and all their other assets. Phoenix is represented by divorce attorney Apollo Gramarye while Dahlia is represented by divorce attorney Klavier Gavin.

Storyline C: Apollo’s sister, Trucy Gramarye, is a celebrity magician with her own Las Vegas show. Recently, she’s sued a copycat magician named Rayfa Padma Khura'in, who she alleges stole her entire routine. Trucy hires entertainment/IP lawyer Simon Blackquill, who brings along his newest attorney Athena Cykes since she just passed the bar and needs experience. In response, Rayfa hires her own attorney, Nahyuta Sahdmadhi (side note: based on the real life Penn and Teller case).

So we got 3 main cases in different fields; criminal, divorce (family), and intellectual property.

4) The protagonists (should be obvious)

* Phoenix Wright: protagonist of the Maya Fey murder storyline

* Apollo Gramarye: protagonist of the Phoenix Wright divorce storyline

* Athena Cykes: protagonist of the Trucy Gramarye copyright infringement storyline

5) Other major characters (not a complete list)

* Maya Fey: A local fortune-teller and the main client of Storyline A

* Mia Fey: Maya’s older sister and the victim of Storyline A

* Franziska von Karma: Phoenix’s co-counsel and the deuteragonist of Storyline A (she fulfills the role of “assistant”, but only because she’s a junior attorney helping the senior)

* Miles Edgeworth: The prosecutor and main antagonist of Storyline A (main antagonist since you don’t actually find the supposed real killer, your goal is ONLY to get an acquittal for Maya)

* Richard G. Sho: The lead detective of the Fey murder case

* Dahlia Hawthorne-Wright: Phoenix’s wife who he’s getting divorced from and the main antagonist of Storyline B.

* Iris Hawthorne: Dahlia’s twin sister who plays a major role in the divorce proceedings.

* Klavier Gavin: Dahlia’s attorney and the secondary antagonist of Storyline B.

* Ema Skye: The accountant working with both Phoenix and Dahlia when it comes to determining how to split their community property (because she’s “scientific”)

* Trucy Gramarye: Apollo’s sister and a celebrity magician working in Las Vegas. She is the client of Storyline C.

* Simon Blackquill: Athena’s senior attorney

* Rayfa Padma Khura’in: A copycat magician who is sued by Trucy for infringement. She is the main antagonist of Storyline C.

* Nahyuta Sahdmadhi: Rayfa’s attorney and the secondary antagonist of Storyline C.

6) How the stories could play out depending on the player’s choices

* Maya could either be acquitted or deemed guilty. That being said, it’s never made clear whether or not Maya is actually innocent, unlike the original games.

* Phoenix could either lose a lot in the divorce settlement or Dahlia could lose. This storyline is more to determine whether or not Phoenix has a happy or sad ending.

* Trucy could either successfully shut down Rayfa’s show or Rayfa could continue to perform. Just like Maya’s story, it’s not made clear whether or not Rayfa intended to steal Trucy’s performance or if it was just an unfortunate coincidence.

7) Miscellaneous storyline stuff

* A plot twist in the Fey murder case could be that the Feys were deep in debt and Maya may have murdered Mia for insurance money. Maya could say she had no knowledge of the insurance money, which the player can choose to believe or doubt.

* A plot twist in the Wright divorce case could be that Phoenix was cheating on Dahlia with Dahlia’s twin sister, Iris (who is a nun in this reimagining). This could be a major factor in who ends up prevailing in the settlement.

* A plot twist in the Trucy copyright case could be that Rayfa and Trucy were friends when they were starting out as amateur magicians. This could be a major factor in determining whether or not Rayfa knew about the details of Trucy’s magic tricks.

* Obviously, the storylines do cross over with each other. Apollo visits his sister which leads to him meeting Athena, Phoenix has to deal with both the murder case and his own divorce, Athena could learn about Phoenix through Apollo and Trucy, etc.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Up All Night 4

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn’t serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You leave Laing on a hopeful note. He listened to you, something you realise you’re not used to, and promised to give it some thought. It was more than you could say for his meeting with Ransom.

You return to the office and bring your boss his coffee. He clucks as he takes off the lid, “the foam is melted.”

“It was busy,” you shrug, “took a while.”

He sighs and lifts the cup, you see the flicker in his eyes.

“You throw that on me a second time–” you warn him.

“Who are you to threaten me?” He puts the cup down so harshly the coffee sloshes, “huh? To walk into my house, barge in on my life–”

“You had a meeting–”

“You are my assistant, not my mother.”

“That’s too bad. If I was, you might have some sense,” you retort, “now if you’re done having a tantrum.”

“This is not a tantrum. I am not a child.”

You stare at him, holding back a grin. You keep your face placid and say nothing. You’ll let him figure it out on his own, if he can.

“Get out. Go do your job,” he dismisses you with a chop through the air, “you know, I could hire someone with less mileage and nicer ass. Easy.”

You resist the urge to dress him down further. You turn on your heel and promptly march out. You’re certain to snap the door behind you.

You sit at your desk and blow out, long and loud. Sure, he could hire someone younger he could ogle but you guarantee she wouldn’t carry his workload. It might be entertaining to hand in your resignation and see it all go down in flames, but you didn’t work all those years to just walk away because of that upstart.

📚

Ransom leaves before his lunch. That’s hardly unusual. You’re stunned he lasted that long before he slinked out like a rat. Your day goes by like sand in the glass. You take a message from his mother about some family gathering. You add it to his calendar.

You clock out, eager to be home to your bottle of wine and bookmarked episodes. At last, you get a night to unwind from this idiot you call a boss. You’ll be even happier if he takes the next morning off.

As you stop at the intersection, your bluetooth chimes and you press the button on the steering wheel to answer. Drysdale’s name shines from the stereo display. Of course, how could you ever dare to be an optimist. You cluck out a ‘Mr. Drysdale.’

“Uh, hi,” an unfamiliar name comes from the speaker, “it appears Mr. Drysdale has overindulged…”

The deep voice fills the cramped compartment of your car. You scowl. What on earth?

“Who is this? Why are you calling me?”

“Yes, well, I’m Thor. The bartender. I have a man facedown behind my bar and no one else answered–”

“Christ almighty,” you sneer, “where is he?”

The man on the other end gives you the name of the club. The one he frequents often. You’re confused, he knows the owner, so why the hell are you being dragged into this?

“Uh, isn’t that man there… the owner?”

“My brother is away on business,” the man answers.

“You can’t wake him up? Throw some water on him?”

“He’s not responding.”

“Is he even alive?” You chuff out.

The man has the audacity to chuckle, “I’m starting to wonder the same, miss.”

“Ugh, fine, I’m on my way,” you crank the wheel and turn away from your home. Another night ruined by that incompetent editor.

📚

A man with a dark mustache carries Ransom out of the bar like a baby. Your boss’ head dangle back lifelessly and you’re only reassured by the rise and fall of his chest. The grumbly man places him in the back seat as you open the door and thank him. You get no answer, no kindness. Funny how it goes away with the years.

You bend his legs so he fits and slam the door. What now? Ransom’s house is about twenty minutes further than your place. You could just leave him in the car but that might be a crime. You get in the driver’s seat and pull off, undecided as you approach the corner.

Left or right.

You turn the wheel and sigh. The day has been long enough. You can’t drive another forty minutes and back. Still, you foresee the regret of your decision.

As you drive, your incapacitated passenger begins to snore. Murmurs that don’t make much sense between kicking your door as he rolls around. He whines as you turn onto your street, the lights flickering through the windows.

“Turn off the light!” He babbles, “mom, go away!”

You shake your head. Is this arrested development? Ransom Drysdale may just be the perfect specimen for a psychological study. 

You pull into your spot and get out. Fuck. You open the back door and pull Ransom up to a sitting position. His head lolls but he manages to support himself a little. You’re not the strongest but dammit if you’re not stubborn.

You sling his arm over your shoulders and haul him up. You stagger and angle him against the side of the car as you shut the door. You fish your keys out and get them firmly in hand. You pull him away and make a slow advance towards the entrance.

You’re out of breath by the time you get to the elevator. You let him rest against the metal rail mounted on the wall and wait for your floor. You look at him, his cheeks flushed with alcohol, his eyes sleepy, lashes fluttering.

“You’re a fucking moron. You know that?” You mutter.

He mewls but you don’t expect he understands. The doors slide open and you get him to his feet again. You drag him, back aching, thighs burning. Down the endless halls, you rant.

“A spoiled fucking brat. You don’t deserve any of this. You are the worst person I’ve ever met. Repulsive and stupid and entitled.”

“Mmm, yeah, gimme more,” he mutters as you get him to your condo door. The remark is as close to lucid as he’s been. 

“Shut up,” you sigh and unlock your door.

You get him inside and drop him onto the couch. His arm flies out and hits the coffee table. You put your hands on your hips and glare down at him. Great. That wine is staying corked.

“Tell me I’m a bad boy again,” he giggles as his head lolls and reaches to play with his messy hair, “please…”

You grimace and pull the throw blanket onto him. You back up and make sure the door is lock. You step out of your heels and stretch out your arms as you pass the couch again. He’s already snoring. 

You can’t quite decide if you want him to choke on his own puke or not. A girl can always dream.

[ridenwithbiden]

LOS ANGELES (AP) — Teri Garr, the quirky comedy actor who rose from background dancer in Elvis Presley movies to co-star of such favorites as "Young Frankenstein" and "Tootsie," has died. She was 79.

Garr died Tuesday of multiple sclerosis “surrounded by family and friends,” said publicist Heidi Schaeffer. Garr battled other health problems in recent years and underwent an operation in January 2007 to repair an aneurysm.

Admirers took to social media in her honor, with writer-director Paul Feig calling her “truly one of my comedy heroes. I couldn’t have loved her more” and screenwriter Cinco Paul saying: “Never the star, but always shining. She made everything she was in better.”

The actor, who was sometimes credited as Terri, Terry or Terry Ann during her long career, seemed destined for show business from her childhood.

Her father was Eddie Garr, a well-known vaudeville comedian; her mother was Phyllis Lind, one of the original high-kicking Rockettes at New York's Radio City Music Hall. Their daughter began dance lessons at 6 and by 14 was dancing with the San Francisco and Los Angeles ballet companies.

She was 16 when she joined the road company of "West Side Story" in Los Angeles, and as early as 1963 she began appearing in bit parts in films.

She recalled in a 1988 interview how she won the "West Side Story" role. After being dropped from her first audition, she returned a day later in different clothes and was accepted.

From there, Garr found steady work dancing in movies, and she appeared in the chorus of nine Presley films, including "Viva Las Vegas," "Roustabout" and "Clambake."

She also appeared on numerous television shows, including “Star Trek,” “Dr. Kildare” and “Batman,” and was a featured dancer on the rock ‘n’ roll music show “Shindig,” the rock concert performance T.A.M.I. and a cast member of “The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour.”

Her big film break came as Gene Hackman’s girlfriend in 1974’s Francis Ford Coppola thriller “The Conversation.” That led to an interview with Mel Brooks, who said he would hire her for the role of Gene Wilder’s German lab assistant in 1974’s “Young Frankenstein” — if she could speak with a German accent.

“Cher had this German woman, Renata, making wigs, so I got the accent from her,” Garr once recalled.

The film established her as a talented comedy performer, with New Yorker film critic Pauline Kael proclaiming her “the funniest neurotic dizzy dame on the screen.”

Her big smile and off-center appeal helped land her roles in “Oh God!” opposite George Burns and John Denver, “Mr. Mom” (as Michael Keaton’s wife) and “Tootsie” in which she played the girlfriend who loses Dustin Hoffman to Jessica Lange and learns that he has dressed up as a woman to revive his career. (She also lost the supporting actress Oscar at that year’s Academy Awards to Lange.)

Although best known for comedy, Garr showed in such films as “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” “The Black Stallion” and “The Escape Artist” that she could handle drama equally well.

“I would like to play ‘Norma Rae’ and ‘Sophie’s Choice,’ but I never got the chance,” she once said, adding she had become typecast as a comic actor.

She had a flair for spontaneous humor, often playing David Letterman’s foil during guest appearances on NBC’s “Late Night With David Letterman” early in its run.

Her appearances became so frequent, and the pair’s good-natured bickering so convincing, that for a time rumors cropped up that they were romantically involved. Years later, Letterman credited those early appearances with helping make the show a hit.

It was also during those years that Garr began to feel “a little beeping or ticking” in her right leg. It began in 1983 and eventually spread to her right arm as well, but she felt she could live with it. By 1999 the symptoms had become so severe that she consulted a doctor. The diagnosis: multiple sclerosis.

For three years Garr didn’t reveal her illness.

“I was afraid that I wouldn’t get work,” she explained in a 2003 interview. “People hear MS and think, ‘Oh, my God, the person has two days to live.’”

After going public, she became a spokesperson for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society, making humorous speeches to gatherings in the U.S. and Canada.

“You have to find your center and roll with the punches because that’s a hard thing to do: to have people pity you,” she commented in 2005. “Just trying to explain to people that I’m OK is tiresome.”

She also continued to act, appearing on “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit,” “Greetings From Tucson,” “Life With Bonnie” and other TV shows. She also had a brief recurring role on “Friends” in the 1990s as Lisa Kudrow’s mother. After several failed romances, Garr married contractor John O’Neil in 1993. They adopted a daughter, Molly, before divorcing in 1996.

In her 2005 autobiography, “Speedbumps: Flooring It Through Hollywood,” Garr explained her decision not to discuss her age.

“My mother taught me that showbiz people never tell their real ages. She never revealed hers or my father’s,” she wrote.

She said she was born in Los Angeles, although most reference books list Lakewood, Ohio. As her father’s career waned, the family, including Teri’s two older brothers, lived with relatives in the Midwest and East.

The Garrs eventually moved back to California, settling in the San Fernando Valley, where Teri graduated from North Hollywood High School and studied speech and drama for two years at California State University, Northridge.

Garr recalled in 1988 what her father had told his children about pursuing a career in Hollywood.

“Don’t be in this business,” he told them. “It’s the lowest. It’s humiliating to people.”

Garr is survived by her daughter, Molly O’Neil, and a grandson, Tyryn.

(She was great in Martin Scorsese "After Hours" too.)

[armpirate]

Kalla | Choi San || Chapter 29

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: CEO!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers.

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, voyeourism, use of sex toys, bondage, dirty talk, BDSM, exhibitionism, rough sex.

Summary: She was surprised by how fast her life went from the perfect fairytale to the destructive mess it had turned into. Dealing with a cheater ex boyfriend, having to move out to a different place because the house she lived in belonged to that man she once dreamed of spending the rest of her life with, while continuously being underappreciated at work... It was as if life was telling her to stop dreaming big, to go back to her small town, Bibury, and help her parents run the small farm her family had owned for decades.

At least until she received a call from her friend.

A sudden vacancy as an assistant showed up on one of her friend's system, having her being encouraged to take that big step and apply for it. She had no hopes for it. Mainly because she didn't have any experience on the field, and she didn't comply with most of the requirements that were added on the offer -and which most of them sounded ridiculous and exaggerated for the position, making her wonder who was the freak who needed so many guidelines in order to hire someone to pick up the phone and schedule events. 

Although that hotel she'd be working on was much more than anything she could've come up with. 

Choi San wasn't someone easy to deal with. After his previous assistant presented his resignation letter on his desk, he felt forced to start the whole selection process again -after merely two months. 

Sure that he was being way too strict, enough to find that anyone who applied for the position wasn't enough, he asked one of his friends to be in charge of the interviews and the selection of the most adequate candidate. 

Little did he know Wooyoung would hire the imperfectly perfect candidate for him, sure that she'd help him in many ways other than just in dealing with the responsibilities of his position. 

A new challenge will come their way as soon as she steps inside the hotel. 

Y/n will have to learn how to mold onto him and deal with all his small habits and requirements, and San will find himself trying to open up and let out all those same things that turned him into the person he was. 

The more she digs in Kalla and all of its secrets and exciting corners, the deeper she'll dive into San's heart and soul... Although, maybe, she won't be able to take it. 

Kalla opens its doors to you, sharing the vast amount of filthy and erotic plans it offers, and that you can join with a partner... Or maybe just by yourself. 

Hope you enjoy your stay.

Chapter duration: 16 minutes

Y/n was lounging on the worn but comfortable couch, her legs tucked under her, dressed in her usual "at home" clothes -baggy pants and a loose T-shirt that, unbeknownst to anyone else in the room, wasn't actually hers. The oversized shirt hung off her shoulder, and she loved how soft it felt, with a hint of San's scent still lingering on it. It had been a small victory when she'd managed to sneak it out after one of the nights she'd stayed over at his place. Every time she wore it, a quiet thrill ran through her, like she had a secret she wasn't quite ready to share.

On the couch beside her, Mingi and Seonghwa were deeply invested in the latest episode of Love Dive. Mingi had his feet propped up on the coffee table, his eyes glued to the screen as one of the contestants on the dating show stirred up drama by switching partners. Seonghwa was less animated, but every once in a while, he'd mutter something snarky about the contestants' choices, making Y/n chuckle.

—I told you to put your damned feet down —Seonghwa called him out, kicking the side of his leg.

—You know —Mingi said with a dramatic wave of his hand, while moving his legs down—, I would never act like that on TV. It's like these people have zero self-control.

—Please, you'd last five minutes before causing chaos —Y/n smirked, tossing a piece of popcorn at him.

—Five minutes? —Seonghwa arched an eyebrow—. Two minutes and he'd have the other contestants on his neck.

—Because I'm a tough competitor —Mingi protested, catching the popcorn and eating it—. I have… layers.

—Sure —Y/n teased—, just like an onion. Although, unlike Shrek, it isn't diving deeper into your emotions and thoughts, but the different levels of nonsense you can come up with.

The doorbell rang suddenly, cutting through the playful banter. Y/n glanced at the clock, frowning. She wasn't expecting anyone. Seonghwa gave her a knowing look, clearly assuming it was some kind of food delivery she hadn't mentioned.

—I didn't order anything —she muttered, rising from the couch and padding over to the door, adjusting the oversized shirt out of habit.

When she pulled open the door, her breath caught in her throat.

San stood there, looking far too composed for someone who had just shown up unannounced. He wore a tailored coat over his usual sharp attire, his dark hair slightly tousled by the wind, and his expression was unreadable, but there was something different in his eyes. An intensity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability.

—San? —Y/n blinked, her voice soft with surprise— What are you doing here?

Her two friends immediately moved over the couch, bending their bodies as much as they could to catch a glimpse of him by the door.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking her in. His eyes flickered to the oversized shirt she was wearing -almost losing his head when he realized it was his- before they settled back on her face. He didn't comment on it, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze, like he was filing the sight away for later.

—I was around —he said, his voice low and controlled, as always. But there was a subtle hesitation in his tone, something that wasn't usually there—. I didn't mean to interrupt.

Actually, he had spent most part of his Saturday texting her, and thinking about her whenever she didn't reply within five minutes. It took him one quick thought questioning why he wasn't there before he put on some clothes to drive around her neighborhood for thirty minutes, before he found the courage to knock at her door.

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. San didn't do things like that. He didn't show up at her place out of the blue. He didn't usually step into her world unless it was planned. But there he was, standing in her doorway, looking like he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

—You're not interrupting —she said quickly, stepping aside to let him in—. We're introducing Seonghwa to the world of dating shows —she commented, moving aside to let him come in.

San hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside, taking off his shoes while Y/n walked back to the living room. As he entered the cozy, lived-in space, he was immediately hit with a wave of unfamiliarity. The place was so different from his carefully curated apartment. Y/n's home had personality, warmth. There were blankets draped over the back of the couch, mismatched cushions, and the faint smell of popcorn in the air.

—What's up? —Mingi greeted.

Seonghwa glanced between Y/n and San, his eyebrows raising slightly, but he didn't say anything. He simply gave San a polite nod before turning back to the TV, pretending not to be overly curious.

San's gaze flickered briefly to Mingi and Seonghwa, but then he returned his attention to Y/n.

—If this is a bad time, I can leave.

—No, no, it's fine —Y/n said quickly, gesturing toward the couch—. We're just having a lazy evening. You can join us… if you want.

She wasn't sure why she felt a little nervous. San looked out of place in that relaxed setting, but there was something endearing about it too. Seeing him here, in her world, felt oddly intimate.

To her surprise, San nodded and shrugged off his coat, draping it over the back of a chair before taking a seat on the far end of the couch, his posture a bit stiff. He looked as though he wasn't quite sure how to relax in that environment, but he was trying. And that, more than anything, tugged at something inside Y/n.

—I can't believe Nicki chose Morgan —he commented out of the blue.

The other three people in the room immediately looked at him as if they had heard a dog speaking, unable to digest the fact that San was so into that show to even remember the names.

—There wasn't a lot to watch when I lived in London —he explained—, so I kinda got addicted to it after season two.

The next few minutes passed in a strange sort of tension. Mingi and Seonghwa, both aware of who San was, made occasional comments about the show, but it was clear they were holding back a little, under Y/n's death glares whenever they exchanged looks between them, too tempted to make a comment.

—So are you team Brandon? —she asked, offering him the bowl of popcorn.

—If he's smart, he's team Nick —Mingi mentioned.

—If he's smart, he's team Brandon —she cut him off.

—Why? —San curiously asked.

—Because he actually listens to her on the few dates they had, he's funny, and always makes her laugh. He also is the type to always have a topic for a conversation… And he seems to be the romantic type. Remember when he bought her favorite flower in different colors to make himself a bouquet.

San glanced at her, his lips twitching into the faintest smile while just hearing her speak. The way she looked while speaking about it, how she remembered every detail… Did she like that type of thing?

Before he could even think of an answer, the other three people were already back on the TV, making sure all their attention was there.

As the episode progressed, the tension began to ease, and San slowly relaxed into the couch, his shoulders losing some of their rigidness. Y/n could feel him settling into the atmosphere, though she could tell it was still strange for him. He was used to control, to order, and that was… not that.

At one point, Mingi turned to San, clearly unable to resist the urge to include him in the conversation.

—If you were on a show like this, what would be your strategy? Play it cool, or go for the drama?

San gave him a flat look, though there was a trace of amusement in his eyes.

—I don't think I'd ever be on a show like this.

—That's because you're way too serious —Y/n teased, nudging him lightly—. You'd probably scare off all the other contestants.

—Is that so? —San's eyebrow quirked, and he turned his gaze on her, his voice smooth.

—Yep —she grinned—. Too intense. They wouldn't stand a chance. One look from you, and everyone would be done.

—I guess that's already a strategy —San's lips curved into a small, almost reluctant smile.

The playful exchange caused Mingi and Seonghwa to exchange a glance, knowing too well San and Y/n were far away from the group's hang out they planned, and Y/N caught it out of the corner of her eye. She knew what they were thinking -they could sense something between her and San, even if they didn't say it outright.

As the episode came to an end, Y/n stretched her arms over her head, yawning slightly.

—Okay, I need a break from all this drama. Anyone want tea?

Mingi and Seonghwa both nodded, but when Y/N glanced at San, he hesitated. It was clear he wasn't used to being part of such a casual evening.

—Sure —he said finally, as if making a decision to fully participate.

Y/n smiled and stood, heading to the kitchen to start boiling water. As she moved around, gathering cups and tea bags, she could hear the faint murmur of conversation from the living room. Mingi and Seonghwa were talking quietly, probably still in awe that San was there, lounging on the couch like a regular person.

The last time they saw him there, he had received a punch from Y/n's ex boyfriend and he didn't stay too long to socialize with them.

When she returned with the tea, she handed San a cup, their fingers brushing briefly. There was a moment of silence as their eyes met, and Y/n's heart skipped a beat. She could feel the pull between them, stronger than before. Something had shifted in the air, and she wasn't sure if it was because San had come there tonight, stepping out of his comfort zone, or because she was wearing his shirt, a piece of him that had stayed with her.

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable rhythm, the four of them chatting, laughing at the absurdities on the screen. But all the while, there was an undercurrent between Y/n and San, an unspoken tension that lingered in the space between them.

As the night drew to a close, Mingi's and Seonghwa's heads were starting to bang in the air, while their eyelids kept falling and their lips parted, slowly falling victims to their sleep.

—Do you want to do something? —she whispered, careful not to wake her two friends up.

San nodded, but there was a slight furrow in his brow, as if he was still processing something.

—What do you mean?

—Sh… —the curse was on the tip of her tongue, before her hand slapped his upper arm— I wasn't talking about that.

—I wasn't talking about that either —he replied back—. And did you just hit me? —his eyes darkened for a short second.

—No?

San's gaze softened, when she rolled her eyes with her innocent smile, while she moved her hand away from him.

—I was thinking of going out for a walk —she finally suggested.

—I'd like that.

—Great. I'll go pick up a jacket.

San didn't say why he had come there that night, but Y/n could sense it. He was letting himself get closer to her, bit by bit, even if it scared him. And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to feel the same way, and his attitude only encouraged her to follow her instincts, even if it scared her to death to fall back on that same cycle.

It was a crisp evening in Seoul, and the city lights twinkled around them as Y/n and San strolled through the streets. It wasn't the first time they had gone for a walk together, but something about tonight felt different. San had been acting… off. It started with a few subtle things -holding open the door for her more dramatically than usual, or clearing his throat as if he were about to say something important but then saying nothing at all.

Y/n noticed these little quirks but didn't mention it. Instead, she simply enjoyed the fresh air, the distant hum of the city, and San's company. Yet, she could feel him trying too hard, like he had something on his mind but didn't know how to express it.

When she mentioned earlier she liked romantic men, it had been an offhand comment, something she didn't even think he would take to heart. But knowing San, he took it seriously, and now, there they were, walking in awkward silence while he clearly tried to figure out how to be that guy.

As they walked, San occasionally glanced at her, wondering how to make the moment special without overthinking it. The streets were lit by neon lights, and they passed by couples holding hands, laughing, completely at ease in their own little world. Y/n was talking about something light -her day, a funny story from work- but San found himself getting caught up in how she looked, how she smiled. She had a way of bringing warmth into everything she touched, a quality San admired but couldn't quite replicate.

Every attempt of imitating the couples around them, ended up with San letting his arm fall down to his side and pretending he didn't really move from his initial position.

—Are you okay? —Y/n asked with a chuckle, noticing San's furrowed brow as he glanced at a couple holding hands nearby.

The woman leaned into the man, giggling as he whispered something to her. San blinked, his gaze darting to Y/n.

—What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine —he cleared his throat for the third time that night and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his expression tight.

—You seem a bit tense… —she smiled softly at him, letting the silence stretch between them for a moment longer.

San bit his lip, a rare flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes. He glanced at her again, then back to the couple, who were now sharing a little kiss under a streetlight. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he sighed.

—I'm just… thinking it'd be a good idea to stop somewhere to eat.

After a while, they reached a quieter street lined with food stalls. San spotted a pojangmacha at the end of the block, a little tented spot where people were gathered, eating, and drinking under the soft glow of the lanterns.

—How about we stop here? —she suggested, trying to sound casual, while following his gaze.

—Yeah… I'm starving.

They ducked inside, the smell of sizzling food immediately hitting them as they found a small table near the back. It wasn't fancy, far from the exclusive spots San usually took clients to, but Y/n looked completely content, like she was in her environment. She ordered soju and a few dishes, while San watched, trying to figure out when to make his move -whatever that "move" was supposed to be.

As the drinks arrived, San poured Y/n a glass, his hand steady as always, but there was a slight hesitation in his movements. He could feel the weight of her earlier words hanging between them. Romantic guys.

—I thought I was supposed to pour the drink.

—Not when you’re with me —he mentioned.

She grinned when he smirked, raising his glass to cheer for that night.

—To a fun night —she finally said.

San raised his glass and clinked it against hers, forcing a smile. He wasn't much of a drinker, but that night he needed it. The soju burned its way down his throat, and he poured himself another shot almost immediately.

—Slow down —Y/n said with a laugh, watching him pour another—. You'll get drunk.

But he ignored her, going for a third shot before the food was brought to their table.

They ate and drank in comfortable silence, with Y/n occasionally teasing him about his serious demeanor. She was used to it, but that night it felt like something else was going on with him, and she couldn't quite figure it out. She tried to shift the emotion on their table by talking about the food they were eating, but she didn't know she'd need a lot more to take away the thought in his mind that alcohol turned into his new focus.

San let out a soft sigh, his fingers playing with the shot glass in front of him. He didn't respond right away, just looked out at the street beyond the tent, where couples were walking hand in hand, their laughter mixing with the sounds of the city.

He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol now -his body loosening up, his mind slowing down. The usual tight grip he had on his emotions was slipping, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out of his mouth.

—I don't know how to be romantic —he confessed quietly, almost as if speaking to himself.

—What? —Y/n blinked, caught off guard by his sudden admission.

San downed another shot, this one more forceful, as if he could wash away the awkwardness, almost forgetting he was talking to her and not to himself.

—You said you liked romantic guys —he mumbled, his voice slurring slightly—. I don't know how to do that.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat. So that's what it was all about. She hadn't even realized that her casual comment from before had stuck with him, but now it made sense. All his weird behavior throughout the night, his distant mood -it was because of that.

—San… —she murmured, feeling a pang of guilt. She reached across the table and placed her hand on his, squeezing gently—. I didn't mean for you to think you had to…

—I'm trying —San interrupted, his voice low and thick with emotion. He wasn't looking at her, just staring down at the table—. But I don't get it. I'm not… like that. And you definitely deserve it. You deserve someone having his eyes only on you, someone trying to be what you need.

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart breaking a little at the vulnerability in his voice. She had never seen him like this before -so raw, so unsure of himself.

—Don't you have your eyes on me only? —she asked softly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles— And aren't you trying to be what you think I need? —her fingers moved up to his chin, guiding his gaze to her— Honestly, that's pretty romantic.

San finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes a little glassy from the alcohol but filled with something deeper -something that made Y/n's breath catch in her throat.

—I don't know what I'm doing —he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper—. But I'm trying.

—That's enough for me —Y/n smiled gently, her hand still resting on his.

For a moment, they just sat there, the noise of the pojangmacha fading into the background. It was just them, sitting together in the warmth of the tent, their hands still touching across the table.

But then San chuckled softly, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe himself and moving his right hand up to squeeze his cheeks, feeling them a bit hotter than usual despite how cold it was outside.

—I'm a bit drunk, right?

—Just a little —Y/n laughed, her heart feeling lighter.

San sighed, leaning back in his seat and looking up at the ceiling of the tent.

—I'm not good at this —he muttered again, his voice softer now, the frustration fading into something more resigned.

—I warned you to drink slower —Y/n shook her head with a fond smile.

San looked up at her, smirking after being intoxicated with her sweet happiness, only to drop his head back again. He didn't mean he was bad at drinking, he was bad at understanding the crazy and messy feelings he was starting to have for her.

They finished their food, and as they left the pojangmacha, Y/n looped her arm through San's, guiding him through the streets as he swayed slightly from the alcohol. He leaned on her, his usual confident posture slipping into something more relaxed, more human.

And as they walked, Y/n couldn't help but feel closer to him than she ever had before. Not because he had tried to be romantic, but because he had shown her a side of himself that no one else got to see.

While she took off his coat after guiding him into her room, after taking off his shoes after he threw himself over the mattress, she noticed she saw another side of him. The side that wasn't perfect, that didn't always have it all together. The side that was just… San.

And in that moment, she realized that was more than enough.

Taglist: @brown88

[jarofstyles]

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Buttercream

Y/N could be considered an odd omega, choosing her own path. Harry found a bakery with the most delicious scent and he’s tried every treat in the bakery case to find out what it is- or who it is.’

Or, architect H x Bakery Owner y/n with ABO in the mix

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Y/N loves her small town and has no desire to leave. Especially not after getting her dream job as the Styles family ranch, helping assisting with the award winning horses and breeding program. The mountain and valley view are a perk of the job- but the best view is the sweaty cowboy she gets a front row seat to.

Or, small town cowboy romance

Parchment

Hiding a pop star in her stationary shop in NYC certainly wasn’t on Y/N’s bingo card- especially since she didn’t know who he was. It’s a good thing he returned to thank her for her troubles.

Or, Pop Star H x Stationary Shop Owner Y/N

Diffident

Harry is shy and Y/N is not. Navigating the intricacies of college dating, nosy roommates, broken glasses, video games, callbacks and a different type of studying.

Or, nerdy H college au

Pleasure Island

Harry is on the reserved end, and isn’t too happy when his quaint little bookshop is neighbored by an erotic accessory shop.

Or, bookshop H x sex shop Y/N and their activities exploring the wilder side of sex

Welcome Home

Y/N has been hearing strange noises, feeling odd cold spots and…. Talking to the ghost that roams her house.

Or, Ghostrry! DARK CONTENT AHEAD!!!

Love Bites

Exclusive Wolfrry 🤭🤭

Lush

Living in Las Vegas, escort Y/N gets hired by tall, dark and handsome Harry to sit pretty on his lap… until he has another proposition that he’s hoping she’ll consider

Or, fake fiancée Y/N and dark!H

More coming soon….

[throne-for-queens]

I only see him sharing his space and all of his free time with a wife if he really loved but I can still see him marry somebody he only Fs, as long as they are living separate and without her being controlling, especially if he wanted a conventional family or wanted to still profit off a PR relationship.

But I don't really see him "take a bullet in the head and paint the floor red" (In These Walls) for his loveless marriage partner, whether it be Megan or anyone else.

He must have a body count at least in the triple digits, so he's one of those who can see a difference between lust and love. Some people came along on blogs and said they (and their friends) extended their hook ups for YEARS. In case he couldn't meet new girls, he would always have his go-to he would hit up, women hired to collab with the XX team (two former stylist & at least one former assistant), same old fans that would make sure to 'visit' him backstage everytime he would hit their city up, models flying (even to Cleveland) from around the world and industry workers around Vegas, LA, Miami and ATL.

Also, hasn't he known Kiki for years? I don't think these girls could even be considered side-chicks or lovers, more of tag along and some of them managed to remain as his friendly acquaintances. Yes, he did cuddle according to them, so he does have a soft spot, but I think that could have only happened after he felt comfortable enough, maybe knowing he would soon leave them behind anyway. And that does not sound much of an emotional connection to me.

This is all very true, but I don't know, I think colson is getting to that point in his life where tag alongs or consistent hookups don't cut it anymore. Regardless of what he does with his pants, I think he just wants to be loved unconditionally, with someone who values and supports him. He's such a sensitive person and I know he struggles with rejection, perhaps that's why he always has another woman handy. But he's getting older and girls like kiki, Kelly k, Nicki, Katie, etc don't cut it. Now I don't know how Megan differs from all these women, strictly because I don't know any of them, but whether it be her status or her personality, he wants something real with someone. Something deep and meaningful, and whether that ends with Megan or someone else, I don't think he can spend the rest of his life just exchanging sexual favors.

[pocketbookreferral]

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[brokehorrorfan]

Rope, The Man Who Knew Too Much, Torn Curtain, Topaz, and Frenzy will be released on 4K Ultra HD (with Blu-ray and Digital) on October 31 via Universal. They’ll be available both individually and in The Alfred Hitchcock Classics Collection: Volume 3 box set.

Rope is a 1948 thriller written by Arthur Laurents, based on the 1929 play by Patrick Hamilton. James Stewart, John Dall, and Farley Granger star.

The Man Who Knew Too Much is a 1956 thriller written by John Michael Hayes. James Stewart and Doris Day star.

Torn Curtain is a 1966 spy thriller written by Brian Moore. Paul Newman and Julie Andrews star.

Topaz is a 1969 spy thriller written by Samuel A. Taylor, based on the 1967 novel by Leon Uris. Frederick Stafford, Dany Robin, and John Forsythe star.

Frenzy is a 1972 thriller written by Anthony Shaffer, based on a 1966 novel by Arthur La Bern. Jon Finch, Alec McCowen, and Barry Foster star.

The films have each been restored in 4K and presented with HDR. Special features are listed below, where you can also see the artwork for the standalone releases.

Rope special features:

Rope Unleashed

Production photographs

Theatrical trailer

Two friends (Farley Granger and John Dall) strangle a classmate for intellectual thrills and then proceed to throw a party for the victim's family and friends—with the body stuffed inside the trunk they use for a buffet table. As the killers turn the conversation to committing the "perfect murder," their former teacher (James Stewart) becomes increasingly suspicious that his students have turned his intellectual theories into brutal reality.

The Man Who Knew Too Much special features:

The Making of The Man Who Knew Too Much

Saving The Man Who Knew Too Much

Production photographs

Theatrical trailer

Re-release trailer

Original multi-directional audio

While vacationing in Morocco, Ben and Jo McKenna (James Stewart and Doris Day) are suddenly immersed in a dangerous situation after a French spy dies in Ben's arms. Discovering that their son has been kidnapped and taken to England, the McKennas are caught up in a nightmare of espionage, assassinations and terror. Soon, all of their lives hang in the balance as they draw closer to the truth that leads to a chilling climax in London's famous Royal Albert Hall.

Torn Curtain special features:

Torn Curtain Rising

Scenes scored by Bernard Herrmann

Production photographs

Theatrical trailer

World-famous scientist Michael Armstrong (Paul Newman) and his fiancée/assistant, Sarah Sherman (Julie Andrews), travel to Copenhagen for a physics conference. When Sarah mistakenly intercepts a message meant for Armstrong, she believes that he is secretly defecting to East Germany. As Armstrong goes undercover to learn top-secret information, the couple find themselves running for their lives from the enemy agents.

Topaz special features:

Topaz Appreciation by film critic Leonard Maltin

Alternate endings

Storyboards: The Mendozas

Production photographs

Theatrical trailer

Responding to rumors of Russian missiles and a NATO spy called Topaz, an American CIA agent (John Forsythe) hires French operative Devereaux (Frederick Stafford) to investigate in Cuba. In Havana, Devereaux's investigation becomes dangerous, leaving behind a wake of shaken governments, murder, betrayal and suicide.

Frenzy special features:

The Story of Frenzy

Production photographs

Theatrical trailer

A serial criminal known as the "Necktie Murderer" has the police on red alert and the trail is leading to an innocent man who must now elude the law and prove his innocence by finding the real murderer.

Pre-order The Alfred Hitchcock Classics Collection: Volume 3.

[maddiesbookshelves]

Strictly no heroics, by B. L. Radley

The world is run by those with the Super gene, and Riley Jones doesn’t have it. She’s just a Normie, ducking her way around the hero vs. villain battles that constantly demolish Sunnylake City, working at a crappy diner to save up money for therapy, and trying to figure out how to tell her family that she’s queer. But when Riley retaliates against a handsy superhero at work, she finds herself in desperate need of employment, and the only place that will hire her is HENCH. Yes, HENCH, as in henchmen: masked cronies who take villains' coffee orders, vacuum their secret lairs, and posture in the background while they fight. Riley's plan is to mind her own business and get paid...but that quickly devolves when she witnesses a horrible murder on the job. Caught in the thick of a gentrification plot, a unionization effort, and a developing crush on her prickly fellow henchwoman, Riley must face the possibility that even a powerless Normie can take a stand against injustice.

The writing was very reminiscent of tumblr folk tales, probably because B. L. Radley apparently used to(?) write on here. Or maybe I thought that because I knew Radley wrote on tumblr... Whichever it is, the vibes of the writing style were there, it was fun

It was also nice to have representation that doesn't end at "this character is gay, and this one is black": we get different gender and sexual identities, different body types (our MC doesn't have gressin limbs), different skin colors, Riley's sister even has a prosthetic leg. I feel like a lot of people would think it's too """woke""" but like, that's actually what the real world looks like outside of your bubble? Minorities are still a good chunk of the population and queer people do tend to band together, somehow. Anyways, I really liked that aspect of the story

The plot wasn't some convoluted evil master plan from some removed villain with the fate of the world at stake, it was closer to home (which makes sense given Riley and her lack of powers), so it was really refreshing and made the whole story seem way more realistic.

I'll definitely want to read more of Radley's works if they get more publishing deals after this one!

French version under the cut

Ceux dotés du gène des Super dirigent le monde, et Riley Jones n'en fait pas partie. Elle est une simple Normie qui esquive les combats incessants entre super héros et super villains qui détruisent Sunnylake City. Elle travaille dans un dinner minable pour pour payer sa thérapie tout en essayant de trouver le moyen de dire à sa famille qu'elle est queer. Seulement, lorsque Riley se venge d'un super héros aux mains baladeuses au travail, elle se retrouve en manque cruel d'un emploi et la seule entreprise qui veut bien l'embaucher est SBIRE. Oui, SBIRE, comme les sbires masqués des super villains qui prennent leur commande de café, nettoient leur repaire secret, et font les durs en arrière-plan pendant qu'ils se battent. Riley compte se mêler de ses affaires et toucher sa paie, mais ce plan tombe rapidement à l'eau lorsqu'elle assiste à un meurtre horrible au travail. Prise au milieu d'un complot d'embourgeoisement, d'une tentative de syndicalisation et ses sentiments naissants envers son irritable collègue, Riley devra faire face à la possibilité que même une Normie sans pouvoirs puisse prendre position contre l'injustice.

Le style d'écriture m'a rappelé les contes populaires de tumblr, probablement parce que B. L. Radley écrit (écrivait ?) sur le site. Ou peut-être que j'y ai pensé parce que je savais que Radley écrivait sur tumblr... Dans tous les cas, les vibes étaient là, c'était fun

C'était aussi sympa d'avoir de la représentation qui s'arrête pas à "ce personnage est gay et celui-là est noir" : on voit différentes identités de genres, différentes sexualités, types de morphologies (notre personnage principale n'a pas des membres-gressins), couleurs de peau. La soeur de Riley a même une prothèse de jambe. Je suis sûre que beaucoup de gens trouveraient ça trop """woke""", mais euh, c'est à ça que le monde réel ressemble en dehors de leur bulle ? Les minorités représentent quand même une bonne partie de la population et les personnes queer ont tendance à se regrouper, d'une façon ou d'une autre. Bref, j'ai vraiment apprécié cet aspect du roman

L'intrigue était pas un plan alambiqué fomenté par un lointain méchant où le sort du monde est en jeu, c'était une échelle plus humaine (ce qui a du sens au vu du manque de pouvoirs de Riley), donc c'était très rafraichissant et rendait l'histoire bien plus réaliste

Je lirai absolument plus de livres par Radley si iel publie d'autres livres à l'avenir !

[subiysu-chan]

The Sanson servants, rewright

Yes...They deserve arcs...

So André Legris:

Now, nothing is known about him, exept that he accepted the offer to rip up Damien. Since André Legris sounds a lot like the fake French names I found in an article about Romani/Sinti people having multiple false identities, it gives me some idea. So, initially, he went to work as a servant for Nicolas-Charles-Gabriel Sanson, thinking it would be a more normal job, and by the time he understood that no, it's not a regular job, well his tabar had long since f-cked off, leaving him with a social position he hates, but is too afraid to leave. His goal is simply to get enough money to take his leave and marry (executioner servants were typically allowed to marry, like, I have encountered executioner assistants being married with kids, just it wasn't as common probably for economical reasons), maybe with a position as executioner in a small town, or go back to traveling. So, he even found a young woman, no girl (of 15) who's the foster daughter to Soubise, who's also of romani descent, and they can kind of relate to her...But because she had become Barré's protégée, Nicolas-Gabriel hates her guts. Imagine if racial prejudice, professionally induced sadism meets sibbling rivalry (since, unlike his older brother, he did eventually come to see Barré as a paternal figure, probably due losing his father younger). He honestly is a bit desperate to have someone who would share his struggles. Also, he thinks it's only a matter of time that she ends up lynched or gang-raped in a prison riot, and he's not exactly wrong. Plus...He's the only one to point out how weird the habits of the "equarisseurs" in terms of child-rearing are.

Nurse-maid in charge of Sanson baby number X: Puts her or the Sanson baby inside random dead guy's rotting rib cage

Legris: Did you know what you're doing is perfectly disgusting.

Now, Soubise...

Soubise: He a travelling torturer but increasing torturer of Paris, at least de-facto, because Barré is getting a bit too old to inflict "la question par l'eau" which involves lifting some pretty heavy stuff. Descendent of the Guillaume family, he fought all his life to bring back his dynasty to it's former glory, even if it meant being unable to afford a stable home, and for a time, travelled through different provinces to torture sessions, often returning to Paris to work under various masters, and does the odd correction at the Hôpital Général to round off monthly expences. During that time, he married and had a son, but his wife died in childbirth. As a youth, he was apprentice to Jules Tronson, and developped a form of emotional attachment to Madeleine, whom he also wished to marry, albeit more out of dynastic ambition and sibbling-like attachment than romantic or sexual feelings. He still strongly hates Jean-Baptiste Sanson, for in his eyes, taking away everything he held dear. Tronson's attention, Madeleine Tronson, the post of executioner of Paris (which he believes is the rightful property of the Guillaume bloodline). Also, he resents Jean-Baptiste for having Madeleine's body burried near those of respectable people, since when they were alive, they only saw Madeleine as someone they could use for sadistic fun. Not only did he loose a loved one, but he also interpreted her burial as a post-mortem indignity, thinking leaving her body to the dogs would at least be a more dignified burial than this. He's sadistic and hateful, with a playful sadistic side, but also one that's deeply affectionate to those he perceives as family members. He's kind of "papa cat", like those adult male cats that play nice with kittens. He, Barré, his son who's named André, and Blanche (his foster daughter, in fact the daughter of the nurse-maid he hired/rescued, real name Parni) and her mother Marie, real name Luludji, are a kind of "found family".

La Blancheur: The most competant one, and Jean-Baptiste's right hand man. He is a mulato, and almost 80 years old, but remarkably in shape for his age. Originally a slave born of rape, used as a slave to whip other slaves, he eventually fled after the next one to whip was the man who raised him...He eventually reached Nantes, were he did the odd jobs for a bit before eventually coming to work for Sanson II, after the latter saved him from an almost lethal injury, free of charge. He rapidly rose the servants/aids rank. He is qualified enough to get a post in Rouen, and his new boss Jean-Baptiste would be more than happy to finance it, but honestly, with the amount of intrigue and mind games he would need to acquire this posts, La Blancheur isn't interested in that. Plus, he honestly likes the younger servants of the Sanson estate who consider him a grandfather figure and love and respect him, and he doesn't want to leave his social group behind, especially as he's at a point in his life were every day could be his last.

[openheartfanfics]

Ethan x F!MC: Pure Fluff

One Shots A - 1

A Birthday To Remember - @choicesfanaf   Ethan attends Arundhati's birthday party.

A Cheesy Halloween Story - @jerzwriter 👻 Ethan refuses to be Mickey to Casey’s Minnie. But when it’s Bryce to the rescue, he’s none too pleased. Feat. Sienna and Bryce

A Christmas Elf - @genevievemd 🎄 Gen surprises Ethan at the hospital with lunch... and their 4 month old daughter dressed as an elf!

A Christmas Meeting - @trappedinfanfiction  🎄 It's finally time for Ethan and Celia to celebrate their first Christmas together. It'll also be the chance they need for Ethan to finally meet her family

A Christmas Miracle - @drethanramslay 🎄 Leah has a very important gift for Ethan this year.

A Conversation With His Father - @genevievemd  While visiting his father, Ethan comes to a realization. Feat. Alan Ramsey

A Crash With Fate - @trappedinfanfiction Ethan has a bad day, a surprise encounter might turn it into a better one.

A Cure for Homesickness - @choicesfanaf   Ethan makes a delicious meal for Arundhati.

A Day at Home - @potionsprefect  Ethan spends a day with his kids whilst Victoria works.

A Day in the Life - @blazerina

A Day Off - @lucy-268  The competition for best intern and the spot on the diagnostics team is underway.

A Day to Ourselves - @mrsbhandari They have a picnic date.

A Day to Remember - @trappedinfanfiction   It’s their big day, and with that comes nerves.

A Dance In The Moonlight - @bex-la-get Natalie and Ethan share a moonlit dance.

A (Finally) Quiet Night At Home? - @lucy-268   MC curses in front of their children and hopes Ethan steps on a lego.

A Family Day - @jerzwriter Kaycee and Ethan introduce baby Emma to some of her mother's favorite things.

A Happy New Year - @takeharryandgo  🌟 New Years at Donahue’s in Book 1 and pre Miami. Feat. Harper

A Hawaiian Prank - @potionsprefect He thought it was going to be a relaxing break.

A Home With Love - @potionsprefect After a bad day at work, Ethan cannot wait to get home.

A Letter to My Love - @potionsprefect The night before their wedding, Ethan and Victoria pen a letter to each other.

A Little Delay - @jerzwriter  It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, and Ethan is marveling at how much his life has changed... and how much he wants to do with Celia... but then, things take a not-so-sweet turn.

A Little Holiday Cheer - @jerzwriter 🎄 It all started at Ethan & Merida's place, so it's only fitting that we go back there again! Feat. Bryce x F!OC, Ethan x F!MC, Tobias x F!MC

A Love Like This - @genevievemd  (2.17) MC questions whether or not she made the right decision with Esme and Ethan is there to offer advice.

A Lunch Break Observation - @ambraambrose   Ethan observes the new cohort of interns and forms his opinions. Set in book 1.

A Merry Christmas - @takeharryandgo  🎄 A fluffy little Christmas fic featuring our favorite doctor and intern.

A Moment for Cuddles - @ethanramseysrookiexox  🎄 After Christmas dinner, Ethan and Charity enjoy a cuddle

A Moment of Peace - @genevievemd  In which Ethan comforts Gen.

A Moulin Rouge Birthday - @tveitertotwrites   It's Claire's 30th birthday and the gang has a Moulin Rouge Broadway themed party.

A New Era - @genevievemd  Gen and Natalie head to the ERA's tour, then make a startling discovery. Feat. Bryce Lahela x F!OC

A New Life - @potionsprefect  Luke and Lily are welcomed into the world.

A New Team Member - @storyofmychoices   Ellie tries to hire a new team member for the diagnostics department.

A Night At The Movies - @takeharryandgo  Ethan runs into Meredith at the Classics on the Common movie night. Set in book 1, Ch 8

A Night at the Opera House - @lucy-268  Ethan wants to stay home, but Charley wants to go to a charity gala. They are going, obviously.

A Novel Concept - @jerzwriter  Ethan Ramsey is in the dog house. It's apparently clear, and his buddy, Tobias, comes in with an assist. Feat. Tobias Carrick

A Perfect Christmas - @lem-20  🎄 Casey asks Ethan to spend Christmas day with her

A Place to Call Home - @coffeeheartaddict2   Ethan and a pregnant Casey move into their new apartment in the seaport district.

A Place To Call Home - @potionsprefect  Victoria and Ethan make a house a home.