#I feel like certain characters like nylons. it's a win-win.

[after-witch]

Got 3 interviews this week... today, tomorrow, Wednesday.

Today's is the one that has me the most anxious. The phone interview went amazing but I just keep thinking--

What if they see my cane and immediately are like "NOPE" in their body language, which I've seen before? Even if they can't technically not hire me because of that, I know it has made an impact at a few intereviews. Ughh but even if I leave my cane at home, I'll still limp. Maybe it's better to just limp without a physical reminder of the disability???

The phone recruiter gave me advice for today's interview so for the next 2.5 hours I am just. Refreshing my info about the company, going over the job description, practicing answers to common questions. Trying not to psyche myself out.

help me, tree clowns of good fortune ;;

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 31

“Are you SURE I don’t look fu-” my eyes went wide and I shot Bryn a look of utter horror, but she was happily playing on my bed and ignoring her mother and me at my vanity.  “Ridiculous?”  I finished with a hushed murmur as Connie held in a laugh that I hoped would crack her damn rib.  How dare she saddle me with a goddaughter who not only parroted my potty mouth, but would shake down my ass for cash to fund her fucking swear jar?  Little mafia princess to be, I’m telling you.  

Connie was still working on my first layer, the makeup I’d managed on my own, thank you very much - but she was handling the hair.  And my hair was giving her enough of a battle that she was utilizing every damn trick she’d learned in cosmetology school.  “Hedy Lamarr,” she muttered, eyes on my laptop where the dark haired woman’s photo was blown up to show the curls that she was trying to imitate with my own lighter strands.  “She wasn’t ONLY a bombshell, she was a genius.”  

I smirked, “I know.”  I’d picked her from a few of the famous faces we’d set aside after Bucky and I’d spent more time together, the longer we’d talked and the more I learned about him - his hint of geekiness hidden under a huge layer of sexiness - had made Miss Lamarr the obvious choice in the end.  That and her style seemed simpler.  I had doubts now, as Connie was forcing my non-parted hair into a middle part and then worked my natural waves into actual curls.  “Bucky,” I held back a groan as she tugged at my head, “he’s fascinated with -”

“You,” Connie murmured, her own smirk creeping onto her face.  “And he’s a geek, isn’t he?”  She shook her head when I glanced up.  “What?  Hot guys are into the weirdest stuff, Brooke, they always have been.”  She shrugged.  “Joey likes period dramas more than me and he gets more invested in them,” I raised an eyebrow and she snorted.  “I swear he threw popcorn at the screen and hissed during ‘Pride and Prejudice’ when Elizabeth was acting like she was falling for Wickham.”  I giggled.  “He’s a mess, but he’s MY mess, so I put up with it.”  

“Back to my issue,” I tried to shove the image of Joey Amoruso hissing and spitting at a movie screen with Victorian characters dancing and falling in love far out of my head so I could focus on the problem at hand.  “Am I couldn’t to look stupid?”  

Connie stood back, taking in my hair and makeup, I was wearing my robe over the matching underwear set that I’d ordered to go under the dress that I would put on after I made sure that dinner was ready and waiting for Bucky.  The nylons, with their razor sharp lines were on and perfectly straight, thanks to my best friend, hooked into a garter belt that I wasn’t any more certain of than the rest of the get up that had sounded much better when I first considered the idea.  

“You are going to look so many things, Brookie, but stupid is NOT one of them.”  

Connie and Bryn were long gone by the time Bucky called to tell me he was on his way.  He’d texted during the day, while he was waiting for his appointment with Raynor, when he went in search of boxes for the move, while he contemplated if he wanted to move everything in one go or take trips - not that there was all that much, but he worried about overwhelming any driver.  

By the time I knew he was on his way, I’d ordered our dinner from Romeo’s.  The same thing we’d had our first dinner together.  I set the scene the best I could, with candles around the living room and I had my phone set up to start playing a playlist of the greatest and most romantic songs from when he left in 1943 and when he would have come back in 1945, had everything gone the way they should have.  

I had a decision to make - should I wait downstairs, in the living room or should I wait out of sight upstairs and come down once he was inside?  I wasn’t planning on screaming “surprise” or “boo”, but I did want to have the greatest impact with the least amount of damage - it took me longer than I care to admit to decide.  

His knock, which I answered with a loud “come in” from upstairs, was followed by him opening the door.  I listened as he had help from his driver with his boxes and bags, then once I heard him thank the man and say goodnight, I finally stepped onto the top step.

“Brooke?”  He turned away from the door that he had just closed and locked and looked up, his eyes finding the toes of my heels first, then as if his gaze could scald its way up my body I felt every inch as it rose higher.  

I’d contemplated, when I first thought of this asinine idea, getting a dress like what I imagined Dot had worn to Coney Island.  Something simple and casual.  Then, when I sat with Connie and Mertle I realized that - if I’d been with Bucky when he’d gone off to the unknowns of war and he came home to me safe and sound, I’d want his welcome to be something MORE.  Which is why I chose something less casual, less simple.  A little MORE than what Dot had worn to Coney when he spent all his and Steve’s money trying to win her that bear.  

With that in mind, I’d found a dress that was a bit more form fitting than most - black with a lacy bodice and cap sleeves.  The heels were surprisingly easy to find to match the dress, rounded toes, stacked heel, lacy looking leather.  Bucky’s visual tour was taking forever, and I was feeling more and more self conscious the longer it took.  My makeup, once he made it to my face, was the red lip that was so fashionable then and now, the dramatic eye and of course the soft curls framing it all courtesy of the great Hedy Lamarr.  I swallowed as his eyes finally met mine.  

“Welcome home, Bucky.”  If I doubted how he’d receive my gift, how he’d take seeing me cosplay his past, I soon learned that it was all for naught.  He took the stairs two at a time to reach me, then his arms were wrapped around me, careful of the dress as he stared down at me.  “You approve?”  It came out in a rush of breath, but I wanted to be sure.  

“You did all this for me?”  He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before and I nodded, biting my lip without care for the crimson stain.  “Why?”  It wasn’t a question of how dare I, but why would I think to?  

“Because, Bucky Barnes, I wanted to welcome you home, finally.”  And that seemed to unlock something in him, his smile grew and his lips met mine and I knew that he DEFINITELY approved.  

I managed to get him down to the living room, where we lit all those candles and I started the playlist and found out that James Buchanan Barnes LOVES to dance.  He held me and gave me a masterclass in just how little my dad and all the boys I ever had the misfortune to take a turn around a dance floor with over the years knew about the study.  And he looked at peace.  He looked even happier when our food arrived from Romeo’s, shaking his head when I tried to convince him that we could eat it in the living room.

“In that dress?”  He pulled me into the dining room, where I’d placed more candles and after depositing the boxes with our food, he lit them and held out my chair.  “You look too beautiful to sit on the floor, Brooke.”  

“I could always just take it off,” I offered, as he shot me a look over the open box.  “We don’t have plates, Buck.”  I laughed, getting up to grab some, but he pulled me back down.  

“Brooklyn born and raised,” he was smirking, using my own words against me.  “Did you forget how to eat a slice, already?”  

I shook my head, but sat back and realized that this was our life now.  Playful and silly, but also sexy and hot - wow.  Watching him take a slice, folding it properly, but wait for me to take my own before he took the first bite I thought that we’d made a good choice rushing headfirst into everything.  

Eating Romeo’s pizza over the box by candlelight in our dining room, with the sounds of my 1940s playlist softly playing from the living room Bucky told me about his visit with Raynor.  

“I told her about us,” I bit my lip and his smile grew.  “About moving in with you, well about our plans -” my eyebrow arched and he licked some errant grease and sauce off his lip.  “What?  I had to pack first, so it was still a plan - technically.”  

I shook my head and leaned forward.  “Did you get a gold star?”  This was the most important part, wasn’t it?  My eyes were narrowed, waiting for confirmation.  “Well, Sergeant Barnes?”  

“Raynor is very pleased with my progress, Miss Ashley,” he told me in the most professional voice I’d ever heard him use.  “She thinks that the interpersonal relationship I’m developing with you - the ease in which we seem to be able to communicate with one another and the way we both seem to fit into one another’s life makes her feel that I’m making a real effort to grow as a person.”  His brow had grown furrowed as he continued his speech while my teeth were digging so deeply into my lip that I wondered when I’d taste blood.  “The fact that you and I are even discussion cohabitation is leaps and bounds beyond what she imaged for my progress - especially since I’m not finished -”

I had to stop him, because I was going to crack a rib from the urge to laugh at his tone, or throw something from irritation at his ‘doctor’s’.  “I think I get the gist, Buck.”  His eyes seemed to flash when they zeroed in on mine.  “Let’s put away the leftovers and -”

“And finish welcoming me home?”  He bit his lip and from flashing eyes to darkening, my stomach clenched.  “I think I like that plan, Brooke.”  And I preferred the way his voice had returned to normal, deep and - Bucky. 

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Prologue

You Said You’d Catch Me (…If I Fall)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)       x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 3930

Summary for series: In which Steve is forced to solve an unsolvable dilemma and inevitably fails, Natasha is nosy in her attempts to be a good friend and it backfires and Sam Wilson is too old for that $#*!.

Also, Castiel is picking up strays from Heaven, leaving them to Sam and Dean to deal with.

Needless to say, it’s a mess, but when it looks like the God himself might be meddling, Team Free Will doesn’t have a choice. It’s not like they would just let the poor woman with amnesia wander off anyway.

(It is more angsty than it sounds, especially in the beginning.)

Warnings: swearing, very brief smut, violence, some blood, major character death (YEP), mourning, angst

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Don’t you ever bother, my child, trying to win the race against time. Truth is, my beloved, it is such a sore loser that it will never let you win.

-

Steve Rogers woke up with his head pounding so hard he was sure he must have drunk a barrel of Thor’s Asgardian liquor. Not that he remembered doing it.

With his brain in a haze, his hand went to sluggishly rise to his temple as if it could sooth the pain.

He had never sobered up as fast as when he found out he couldn’t do it, something holding his wrist by his side. His eyes snapped open only to be assaulted with a painfully sharp light. A half second later, he revealed he was strapped to a table.

Steve had no freaking idea what had happened, how had he got here or where ‘here’ was, but his instinct yelled at him to break the leather straps. He did so, easily, thanking god for the serum.

What the hell was happening? What the hell had happened?

He gritted his teeth with the effort to get his head on straight. Think, Rogers, think.

To his relief, the pounding headache was fading away, but it offered him no clarity. He couldn’t… he couldn’t recall why he was here and how he had got here in the first place. He wasn’t injured, he thought. If he had been, the serum pulsing in his veins, carved into every cell of his body, had done its job already. Except for his brain cells, apparently.

The last thing he remembered was you. Your laughter echoed in his ears, much brighter than the street and traffic lights illuminating your way as he was walking you home – his haven of the past few days as Tony’s frustration caused by a glitch in his system that he couldn’t figure out was penetrating the Tower’s walls, making the air harder to breathe in when anywhere in the building.

The memory of the twinkle in your eyes, when your gaze met his, automatically brought the briefest smile on his lips if even for a second as he had allowed himself to get lost in the past.

But then the brutal punch had come. Something had stung the back of his neck, an instant dizziness causing him to stumble.

Your horrified cry of his name and the darkness that had followed was like a slap, bringing him back to present.

He jumped to his feet, his eyes quickly examining the room. There was no one in sight. His stomach was squeezed by a cold fist of fear and not for himself.

Your name fell from his lips, silent and wavering.

Someone had drugged him. And you had been there when it had happened. Which, not to point a finger at anyone, but the fact he hadn’t seen anyone coming was totally on you, because when he was with you, he let his guard down, he allowed himself to relax, to forget. To forget who he was to the majority of the world, not to his friends and you.

With you, he was a plain old Steve Rogers, but people were always threatening Captain America’s life.

Fuck.

He prayed to God you were okay. He seemed more or less alright and he couldn’t decide whether that was a good sign. It could mean they had taken out their issues on you instead. His jaw clenched at the idea, the icy shiver that ran his spine in stark contrast to the burst of hot anger in his chest.

If anyone as much as laid their finger on you, he was going to rip their arm off.

Steve tried to shake off the dark thoughts and went to examine the room, this time with his heart hammering, feeling the pulse in his throat. There were two doors on opposite sides of the 40 x 40 ft. room, one to his right, the other to his left. Right in front of him him, there was an enormous screen, stretching along the whole wall. In the corner, there was a little camera. The red dot blinked at him, announcing it was on.

A fraction of second later, the lights in the room dimmed just a bit and the screen lighted up to life, showing a face of an unfamiliar man. He looked like he could use eating a sandwich or two, almost fragile body, deep-set tired grey eyes with wrinkles around them, greyish stubble covering his bony cheeks, contrast to the bald of his head.

“Captain! Good morning!” he greeted him cheerily. Steve squinted, trying to find a clue of what was happening. He could only see the man; not where he was or what was this about. “Good to see you awake. Some of us were getting worried you wouldn’t wake up. Isn’t that right?”

The camera shifted then and Steve’s heart positively stopped.

He lunged forward with his fists clenched on instinct only to realize it would help nothing.

It was you. You with a cloth tied over your mouth, strapped to a chair, a trickle of blood coming from your temple, a strap of messy hair sticking to it. Your cheeks were damp from tears, eyes bloodshot and full of horror. A bruise was forming around your right eye, your line of sight not meeting the lens of the camera aimed at you. Your dress and sweater were dirty and torn as if someone grabbed it too harshly and dragged you away; your nylons ripped, your knees bare and scraped bloody.

Steve didn’t even realize that the raging roar wasn’t only in his mind and actually escaped his mouth, his chest burning with hatred. You sobbed as if you could hear him and Steve understood he wasn’t the only one watching their soulmate.

“You’re a dead man,” Steve growled, causing your eyes falling shut.

While the image stayed focused on you, the man spoke up again.

“And yet I’m still walking…” the man hummed and to emphasize his words, he took several steps towards you – Steve’s feet twitched helplessly, wanting to stop him. But he couldn’t; he had no clue where he himself was, let alone you and that bastard.

He needed to think dammit. And he needed to think very fucking fast. His brain finally kicked in, immediately racing despite the trembles in his body – he couldn’t tell whether it was rage or fear.  When the man circled your chair and aimed the camera lower, Steve was suddenly certain it was pure horror.

There were explosives. There were explosives stuck to your chair and a timer set to two minutes; luckily, frozen. Steve was sure as hell it wouldn’t stay that way as a suffocating lump grew in his throat. He couldn’t breathe in.

The camera moved again, showing the man as he glanced at what Steve assumed was a screen like the one he was seeing, the one you kept watching. Steve didn’t bother wasting his brain capacity on trying to control his expression. The man smiled a toothy grin and Steve wanted to puke, his mind frantically fighting with the heavy stone in his stomach, screaming at him that this was you, his soulmate, basically sitting at a bomb.

“If you’re pissed off now, just wait for what’s to come.”

Pissed off? Oh, Steve was so beyond pissed off. When he was about to get his hands on this man, he wasn’t just about to rip his arm off. He was going to do so with all of his limbs and finish with the carotid, using his bare teeth.

The camera must have been set on a stand, still showing you, as Steve could hear the man shuffle around. The next thing he knew, the screen in front of him split in two separate images; one of you and the other showing nine frames of traffic cameras, all of them aimed at trashcans. Steve didn’t understand.

Yet.

Until the frame of you split into two, the other image showing another timer, simply lying somewhere in an empty room. It read two minutes. Frozen. Just like the one on your back.

Something ugly crept Steve’s spine, a hunch he refused to acknowledge.

“You see, you have two options now, Captain,” the man explained and Steve’s teeth grinded with effort to deny what was set in front of him. It wasn’t what he was thinking, it couldn’t be. “There’s a door to your left – close to your heart, of course…”

Steve’s hands trembled as the man walked to you and almost gingerly loosened the cloth over your mouth, only to tear a strap of your dress after that, revealing your soulmark. It was illegible from the distance, but it still sent a fresh way of nausea up Steve’s throat. A whimper escaped you.

“Pick the left door and save your soulmate. Or take the road to your right and be the righteous man everyone claims you are. There are nine bombs planted over the streets of New York. Busy morning, as you noticed, I’m sure. God, Mondays suck…”

Steve’s head was spinning.

The man was lying. He must have been lying.

“Oh and just so you know, your country is watching. Hacking is too easy these days. Ready to start the race?”

“Wait!” Steve blurted out instantly, catching the man’s attention. It was unfair how much Steve’s voice was shaking, but it was the least of his problems. “What… what do you want?”

The man frowned. “For you to choose. I’m sure you noticed the earbud I gave you-“ No, Steve hadn’t. Having a comm in his ear was a second nature now. “Don’t you worry. You’ll hear us the whole time.”

“No! Wait! There’s… there’s gotta be something-“

The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “The timer’s about to start, Captain. You better choose or you’ll lose both, her and tens thousands of lives I imagine. Life is full of hard choices, isn’t it?” he mocked him and this time it was definitely rage that overtook Steve’s mind and body.

Until someone new spoke up, scratchy, weak and weary voice that shattered his heart turned his stomach around.

“Steve? It’s… it’s okay. Go,” you creaked, your eyes shining with fresh unshed tears. It wasn’t the haunted look in your gaze that unsettled something deep inside of him. No. It was the dark resignation that laced the breath-taking colour of your eyes. “Go save lives. I… I knew I’d have to share you with the world. Frankly, I didn’t imagine it would be like this, but— you go and be hero. My life is nothing compared to thousands and we both know that.”

The world swayed off its place, Steve’s knees buckling, actually forcing him to stumble backwards and lean onto the table he was strapped to.

The fuck did you just say? With unshakable conviction no less?

“The clock is ticking now, Captain,” the man informed him swiftly, smile in his voice. It was like a punch to Steve’s solar plexus.

With his own shield.

“No,” Steve choked out, his glare darting from one door to another.

How could he even make such choice?! What kind of a twisted monster did this? Who was this man?

“Your soulmate is telling the truth, Captain, isn’t she? You are the hero. You always make choices to save people no matter how much it hurts you… if it hurts at all, of course. Maybe, maybe you don’t care-“

“Hey, I know you do!” you rushed to interrupt, a spark of life lightening up your face, but Steve’s hands only darted to his hair, fingers interlacing in desperation.  Your voice softened then. “It’s alright, Steve. I… I love you. And I’m so sorry it will hurt when I’m gone… but I believe in you. You can make it…”

“Yes, I can,” he growled, jolting to his right to disarm the bomb.

He could make it. He could handle the global threat and then rush to your rescue even if it meant he would burn to ashes shielding you from the flames.

His conviction only grew when he heard a familiar voice in his ear.

“Cap? Cap, can you hear me?”

It shook him more than the collision with the door. “Natasha?!”

“And company,” Stark supplied helpfully and Steve could cry in relief.

He wasn’t alone. He could do this.

“Can you disarm the bombs?” he panted, nearly faltering in his steps in relief.

Could Steve leave the nine explosives with one trigger alone and save you?

“Ah, look at him, Americans. The original Avenger, rushing to everyone’s rescue. Looks like he has some assistance, but that isn’t going to help. The choice was made. What is one life compared to thousands? Maybe she doesn’t even matter to him, does she?” the man interjected again and Steve gritted his teeth, pushing to his very limit to speed up.

The hall was narrow. No other possibilities – just running straight ahead. He felt like his mind was anything but straight, buzzing frantic images and dark scenarios. Your voice, ironically enough, was not helping.

“Steve, don’t listen to him. It’s okay. It’s okay…”

“Tony? Can you get rid of the bombs?” Steve repeated, gulping when the billionaire didn’t answer right away.

“No.”

Steve’s world crashed that moment and he wanted to scream.

Alone it was then. He had been alone before. He could do this.

“Romanoff can help you disarm it, we have… ugh, great visual of the corridors and of you thanks to the guy. I’m on my way, but it will be a really fucking close call.”

Steve mentally nodded, swallowing his fear. No time for fear now. Later. He could fold like a house of cards later. He wasn’t alone after all. He had freaking Black Widow and Iron Man at his disposal.

And finally, he reached another door. He burst into the room, his shoulder crying in protest when he broke down the door and stumbled in.

The room was plain, identical to the one he woke up – except there was the timer on a table.

01:02

01:01

“Natasha?” he howled as he sprinted to it. “Talk to me.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” She sounded confident. That was good.

That’s good, Steve’s mind echoed as he bent over the timer, swallowing thickly. Jesus Christ.

“Alright. I need you to rip off the blue wire at the same time you pressing the button on the left side of the timer. Got it?”

Steve only nodded, not taking a second to breathe in and think it through.

He just did it.

The red numbers of the timer flickered on 0:54 and died. Blood ran cold in Steve’s veins. He couldn’t hear any explosions, but that didn’t mean anything; God only knew how far from New York they were.

“Romanoff?” he hissed, already spinning on his heels and springing towards the corridor that had led him here.

“We’re clear. Run, Steve. Get that son of a bitch,” the redhead shot back, her voice sharp, but with a quiver of worry. Steve didn’t like that in the slightest; Natasha was rarely worried.

It was when the man who had assaulted you informed him he was still watching.

“Oh, silly, silly man,” he lamented, a patronizing note to his words. “Do you think you can make it in time? Don’t be stupid. You made your choice. Deal with the consequences.”

“Fuck. You,” Steve strained through his teeth, his feet barely touching the ground as he dashed through the hall, flashing the enormous monitor in his wake-up room a brief look as he headed to the second door.

It barely gave in as he ran into it, sickening crack echoing the empty space and vibrating his bones. Sharp pain jolted through his shoulder and arm; he was certain he just broke something.

It hurt. It would heal. He couldn’t fucking care less.

“You’re running out of time, Captain… you’re always out of time…” the man nearly sing-sang in mockery, making Steve push harder.

“Steve…” Tony’s heavy voice sounded emotionless through the comms and it felt like a slap to his face. “I won’t make it in time.”

Steve snarled, his lungs burning, his heartbeat pulsing his whole being, but he refused to throw himself off balance by even shaking his head in desperation. He ignored the icy fist that squeezed his insides.

He had to run.

Tony’s voice urged him then.

“Steve, there’s no way you can save her either. The lab’s gonna blow up in seconds. Get out of there.“

“Shut up!” the captain growled and as if it wasn’t enough, your captor let himself known too, counting down.

“Five.”

Shit!

Steve really would have to shield you from the explosion. That was gonna hurt a lot.

Well, though luck. He would burn before giving up on you.

He could see the door at the end of the hall now, his muscles crying with effort, his eyes burning with unshed tears or desperation.

He had to make in time to get you of the chair and cover you!

“Cap! Get the fuck out!” Natasha cried out in his ear, but Steve blatantly tuned it out.

He would have ripped the thing out of his ear, but that seemed like too much effort for now. He had more important goals.

“Four.”

He clenched his fists, bracing his body for the impact as he would throw himself against the door.

“Three.”

Pain erupted in Steve’s other shoulder as he collided with the metal, the door flying in the room with him.

“Two,” sounded on his right as he barely kept himself upright, quickly scanning the room. You were there, still on the chair, twenty feet from the door. The man stood by your side, hand on your shoulder, his head tilted to side with curious smile. “Hi there, Captain. One.”

Steve’s glimpsed the horror in your eyes, perfectly mirroring his own.

“Steve!” three voices yelled at the same time as he lunged after the man.

A fraction of second later, his body was thrown backwards with a shockwave, feeling as if on fire.

And then there was nothing.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

He nuzzled his nose to your hair, perfectly blissed out.

He learned to love Sunday mornings. Before he had met you, the day of the week had made no difference to him; he would wake up at 5:45 and get ready for his morning run and the only indication of something being different had been the amount of people he had been meeting on his route. Saturdays had used to be rather crowded, but not Sundays. On Sundays, people had idled. And you had convinced him to do the same.

It hadn’t required much effort from your side; especially after the first time Steve had got to make love to you. Since then, most Sunday mornings were reserved for lazy rolling in the sheets, exchanging sloppy and sensual kisses, wandering hands and lips and finding paradise in your bodies entangled.

He reached his peak shortly after you – because you always came first, an unintended pun, one Steve had made when he had been being absolutely sincere about your pleasure being the priority and you had laughed at it until your belly hurt – and now he wished for nothing but for cradling you in his arms for little longer.

His palm was sprawled on your stomach and he used it to bring you even closer, half-heartedly trying to convince a certain part of his body to stop reacting to your intimate position.

Too late, judging by your chuckle.

“Steve,” you whispered, rubbing your bottom against the hardness, apparently deciding to torture him sweetly. God, he would take every second of that torture and begged for more if it meant hearing you moan his name like that. Christ, this got him going.

You shifted in your position, catching his mouth with yours, fingers of your hand interlacing with his on your hip as you rocked into him once more.

Steve could die a happy man right there as he felt your heat, your tongue shamelessly twisting against his. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was insatiable today. He moaned to your mouth when your hands sneaked between your bodies to guide him in and a shot of ecstasy made him arch his back at the contact.

Your smile was lost to the moan that left your lips.

“I love you,” you whimpered and Steve didn’t waste a second before returning the words, even though they paled under the actual force of what he was feeling with you. Love had never felt this intense before.

That was when the alarm blared, annoying and intrusive sound that had you both crying out in frustration.

Steve had forgotten about the brunch you had arranged with Ryan and his boyfriend.

“Turn it off,” he whined, locking his arm around you to keep you close.

“You know I can’t, Stevie,” you replied, not less annoyed than him. “Looks like we need to go back to reality.”

The intrusive beeping continued as Steve slowly blinked his eyes open. His eyelids felt unnaturally heavy. So did the rest of his body, which seemed to be hurting in too many places at once.

It took him few moments to assess the space he was in – lying in a bed, a beeping machine by his head, wires leading to his body, an i.v. in his arm. He knitted his brows together, reaching for the needle – it must have been why his body was so heavy and his mind so fuzzy.

Sharp pain erupted in his arm and torso, low hiss escaping his lips.

“Careful, Cap,” Tony’s voice brought Steve’s attention to the door where his friend was standing, slowly making his way to the bed. “You got yourself a lot of burns. If it wasn’t for the serum… you’d be a toast.”

“Burns?” Steve creaked, his throat scratchy.

When had he got-

Burns. The kidnapping. The choice he had been forced to make. The explosion.

Everything came rushing back to him in a horrifying fastforward.

“Did-“

“You saved lots of lives, yesterday,” the billionaire informed him, serious and excessively soothing.

It didn’t calm Steve’s suddenly rapidly beating heart. This wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. This wasn’t what he was asking; he knew that much. His thoughts were on you.

Did you survive?

“Did… did she-?“

Tony’s grim expression and solemn shake of his head told him everything he needed but didn’t want to know. Everything he refused to acknowledge, because it simply couldn’t be.

“No,” Steve rasped, his throat burning as much as his eyes and the rest of his body when he tried to sit up, his stomach twisting.

No. This couldn’t be.

It couldn’t, but somehow he already knew it was the truth. You would have been here by his bedside, watching over him. Or you would have been the first thing Tony mentioned, updating Steve on your condition.

Steve remembered with painful clarity the terror in your eyes before everything had gone black. The explosion. You had been in the centre of the room, the bomb basically strapped to your back.

“I’m sorry-”

“No,” Steve repeated stubbornly, setting his jaw tight so it wouldn’t tremble. “She’s… she has to-“

“I’m sorry, Steve. I… I really am.”

The crushing weight on Steve’s chest made it hard to breathe in, his throat closing up in effort not to scream. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill.

No, no, no… someone please wake him up from this nightmare. Please. You had to be alive. You had to, because otherwise… otherwise-

Otherwise he had failed you. Otherwise he was alone in this world again. Otherwise his heart was shattered and he would rather if it stopped. Otherwise his life was thrown back to the shadows he knew after coming out of the ice and further, kicked down to a pit of complete darkness. Otherwise he lost his soulmate.

“Please, leave,” Steve strained through his teeth, not bothering to open his eyes.

You were gone. You were gone, your body burned to ashes in the explosion Steve hadn’t stopped in time. He felt like the bomb exploded right inside of his chest, ripping his heart to shreds, pulsing pain pumped though his veins.

He heard no protest, only a sigh from the other man and a click of a door.

Only then, the first sob shook his whole body and he let himself to break down.

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Part 1

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺ 

Well… that’s a really long prologue, I know. The chapters should be shorter from here.

Title – inspired by Halsey’s Without Me

Thank you for reading!

Please don’t hate me... it’s a Spn crossover, put two and two together ;)

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Tags: @cxptain @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall @eliza5616 @rayofdawnworld @victor-criss-bish @skychild29  @elysianecho @simmisblog @scentedsongrebel @orions-nebula, @sergeantrosabellaswan​ @songofcosplay​, @ilovesupersoldiers​ @wxstedhexrt​ @silver-winter-wolf​ @nova3312​  @guardian-tn @janieavalos, @vxidnik​

Hello there! Like I said I would, I kept the taglist. If anyone wants in or out, DM me or send an ask :-*

[blueishfood]

Her handsome boy, (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Adrienette, Ninya (in the background)

Words: 1,7 k

Warning(s): Swearing, slight violence and a tiny bit of Chloe blood

Summary: Alya, Marinette, Nino and Adrien are seniors (18 y/o) and as Marinette, biker girl supreme, discovers Alya’s crush on the music-nerd Nino Lahiffe she starts to question if she also has a crush on a certain goody-two-shoes-boy.

A/N: So I should be working for my exam, but I wrote this instead… Please give some love to @gemsways and @daloochsdoodles with their amazing, amazing art! 

Prologue

Marinette frowned slightly as she grabbed lunch from the cafeteria and sat down. A dark-haired freshman with expensive clothes tried to sit down beside her and sent her a cheeky smile, but Marinette made him turn away with a cold glare. She was not in the mood for petty rich kids. Well, she was only in the mood for one petty rich kid. Adrien. No! Fuck Adrien. She didn’t like him, and she would prove it by doing the dare Alya came up with.

Marinette didn’t see how the dare would solve anything but she wasn’t the girl to back down from a dare, and so she agreed. She agreed with a stare so cold Alya pretty much avoided her afterwards. She knew what it was like when Marinette was in one of her moods, and Marinette had a feeling there was a certain boy with specs she would rather be talking to anyway.

It wasn’t a big dare. It was a simple one. An easy one. Take him out on a date. Don’t blush, don’t giggle, don’t hug and certainly no kissing. Then Alya would agree that Marinette did not like Adrien and they would be on their merry way in life. Oh, more like gloomy way.

Marinette munched on her sandwich trying to find something more to criticise about Adrien’s character as something cold and sticky landed on her head, running down her neck and face. With a rattled shout, Marinette stood from her stool and turned around to the source.

Chloe Burgeois. She should have hit that bitch ages ago.

The blonde brat was standing half a meter away from Marinette, an empty slushy-cup in her left hand, laughing loudly in her high-pitched obnoxious voice. Marinette was fuming.

“There you go, Cheng! Now you see what comes for you when you cross me!” Chloe screeched, her mouth wide in an evil grin. The cafeteria was silent as the grave. The slushy dripping from Marinette’s hair was the only sound that could be heard in the room.

Chloe put a manicured hand on her hip, waiting for Marinette’s outburst to wash over her. But when it didn’t come at once, Chloe tried speaking up once more. That was a mistake. Just as the first letter left her glossed lips; Marinette grabbed her yellow tank-top, dragging the blonde a stumbling step forward, and punched her square in the face.

A gasp ripped through the cafeteria, accompanied by a loud laugh (possibly Alya’s). Then a horrid screech came from Chloe’s lungs as she realized what had happened. She clutched her bleeding nose with two hands. The blood dripping between her fingers was the same colour as her nail polish. Marinette was fuming. She squinted at the bleeding girl with dark eyes before she smiled sweetly. “Don’t start a war you can’t win, Burgeois.”

She turned to look as someone stormed towards Chloe. Adrien. Holding a few napkins, he pushed them into Chloe’s red hands as Marinette turned and walked out the doors. She needed to get the slushy out of her hair. Alya stood up to go after her, but Marinette waved her off, signalling that she was fine.

The girls-bathroom was a few halls away from the cafeteria. Marinette ignored the pointed stares she received as she neared the bathroom in a faster pace than normal. She couldn’t help but wonder why Adrien would help Chloe. Yeah, he was obviously her boyfriend, but since he was there, he would have had to see what was going on. Why would he help the girl who started the whole thing? Maybe he just was that stupid. Marinette was pretty sure he had yet to see past Chloe’s thin facade. How could anybody be that stupid and yet have good grades in class?

Marinette opened the bathroom doors sharply, the doors smacking into the walls on either side of her. With an annoyed grunt, she looked at herself in the mirror. Blue slushy was drying on her face and bits of ice stuck to her high ponytail. She let out a loud gasp as she saw the slushy running down her leather jacket.

‘No she didn’t.’

Marinette thought, glaring at the mirror while imagining Chloe’s face as she punched her. It helped a little. The angry girl sighed and plucked off the black leather and her white shirt before sticking her head under the tap. The water felt chilly against her warm scalp and it helped calming her down a bit. She threaded her fingers through her dark hair, sighing annoyed every time they got stuck in the sticky mess. When she was satisfied with the state of her hair, Marinette wrung it and pulled it back. She avoided putting it back into her ponytail, figuring it would dry easier if she let it down naturally.

Glancing down at her ruined clothes by the sink Marinette figured she should have asked Alya to come after all. That girl always had an extra t-shirt. She could not walk out in what she was wearing now. A soaked black bra and short bottom-shorts over nylon stockings did not cover the dress codes of the school. Not that she really followed those most of the time.

Marinette turned, her hair dripping water around the bathroom as someone walked into the room. She stared at Adrien with a frown, what was he doing in the girls-bathroom? The young man looked her over with big eyes.

“Adrien?” Marinette asked after a while, an eyebrow lifting slightly. The blonde turned around so quickly Marinette almost didn’t see it. She watched as a deep-red blush crept up his neck and ears. He started stuttering an apology, but Marinette chuckled and he stopped in his tracks.

“Why are you here Adrien?” She asked, a smile slowly creeping up on her. She found satisfaction in him blushing because of her. Oh. That hadn’t happened with other guys.

Adrien rubbed his neck and chuckled embarrassed. “I-um… sorry, I came to check up on -uh- you.” Marinette frowned at his answer slightly. She glanced at the doors, as if looking for the other, more terrible blonde that usually accompanied him.

“So, Chloe is alright?” She asked after a pause. Adrien shrugged and the chuckle disappeared. “Not really.” He answered and wrung his hands, his foot tapping the tile-floor. “I-uh- she went to the infirmary. I think she -well you- broke her nose.” He said slowly, his hand reached back for his neck again. Marinette wondered why he wasn’t with his girlfriend, instead choosing to stand in a dirty bathroom by the side of a slushy-covered girl he barely knew.

Marinette sighed and smiled slightly. “Talking to a back, no matter how broad it is, gets tiering. Will you turn around please? It’s not like you haven’t seen girls in bikinis before.” Adrien laughed too loud and mumbled something about how this was very different from the beach, but he turned around either way.

Marinette watched as his eyes slid down before he caught himself and his blush deepened. By now he was literally a tomato. Surprisingly he stubbornly kept his eyes on her face. Cute.

“Adrien, again, what are you doing here?” Adrien looked surprised and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you… I came here to see how you were doing?” Marinette rolled her eyes slightly. “I meant, why are you here and not with your girlfriend and her broken nose.”

Adrien guffawed and quickly concealed it with a cough. “She’s just a friend.” Marinette watched as he almost slipped on the wet tiles and she forced down a grin. ‘Thank god… wait what?!’ Twisting a few extra drops out of her hair, Marinette willed her thoughts to leave.

Deciding to tease him just a bit, Marinette turned towards the mirror and grabbed her red lipstick. “So, you decided to find another desperate girl in despair instead?” She asked with a concealed smirk as she touched the red stick to the pads of her lips. She watched him from the corner of her eye as the blush that had almost disappeared flamed back up again.

“I-what?! No! I would never try to- you know I wouldn’t- I’m not-” Adrien stopped rambling abruptly as he saw Marinette laughing. “Don’t worry handsome boy, I don’t mind.” She bit her lip to stop another grin from appearing. He made her smile a bit too easily. The young man scratched his neck again, looking down with a slight smile himself.

“You know, you came just in time, would you mind if I borrowed your shirt?” She pointed to the black t-shirt he was wearing under a white dress shirt. With big eyes Adrien shook his head quickly.

“I don’t mind at all! Here.” He pulled off the dress shirt and dragged the black t-shirt over his head before he offered it to her. “Go, um, go ahead.” Marinette smiled in gratitude, accepting his t-shirt but not before glancing at his uncovered stomach. Marinette grinned and turned around, unclasping her ruined bra and pulling his shirt over her head.

“Didn’t know you were ripped Agreste.” She commented, grabbing her leather jacket and rinsing it in the sink. She heard him splutter behind her, mumbling something she couldn’t hear and Marinette could imagine his red cheeks.

She turned towards him and put her dripping jacket over her shoulders. “Thanks for the shirt.” He was buttoning up the dress-shirt as she spoke, it was ruffled after he had tossed it to the ground and Marinette grinned as an idea came to her mind.

“It was nothing.” He smiled to her and she ignored the butterflies in her stomach. Taking a step towards the blonde, she grabbed his shirt and stood on her toes, pressing her lips to his cheek. It left a bright red lipstick mark near the corner of his mouth. Biting her lip, Marinette almost let a giggle slip. She reached a hand up to Adrien’s golden hair and ruffled it, making it stick out everywhere, she found she liked it better that way.

Adrien looked almost dazed as he watched her turn around. “What did you do?” He asked breathlessly.

“Nothing special. Just making it look like a tiny walk of shame.” She winked at him and walked out the doors. This dare was going to be fun.

Chapter 2

[leepace71]

LEE PACE AND HIS NEIGHBOR, JESSICA LANGE, CATCH UP ABOUT WILD FANS, THE WILDERNESS OF EMPTY HOTEL ROOMS, AND NATURE ITSELF

The first time I met Lee Pace, we were outside, next to the East River in Brooklyn, and I was a little stoned. We had just been introduced through a mutual friend, and within minutes of speaking to one another, he invited me up to “the farm,” a country house with five fireplaces, about two hours north of the city. The farm has played an important role in Pace’s life, offering him a retreat from Hollywood, but also purpose; there, with his own hands, he built a rustic barn, in which he lived until he bought the property adjacent to his from his then-neighbor, the two-time Oscar-winning actor Jessica Lange.

It makes sense that Pace feels at home outside of the city; the actor, now 40, was born in the small town of Chickasha, Oklahoma. He gained a modest, albeit devoted following by appearing on two beloved but short-lived TV series: Wonderfalls, in 2004, and, three years later, Pushing Daisies. His star, however, shot into a whole other orbit beginning in 2012, when he joined what seemed like every franchise at the time by starring in The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn – Part 2, all three of the films in The Hobbit series, and Guardians of the Galaxy—as the hooded, blue-faced villain Ronan the Accuser. His recent role as the closeted Mormon Joe Pitt in the Broadway revival of Angels in America was magically exhausting and eloquent, and it coincided with a public truth of his own—or, as a headline in The New York Times put it, “Lee Pace Came Out Seven Times a Week. Then He Came Out for Real.”

The actor’s two upcoming projects reemphasize his dual—perhaps dueling—interests in entertainment and art: He reprises his role as Ronan this spring in Captain Marvel and, later this summer, he’ll play John DeLorean, opposite Jason Sudeikis, in Driven, a biopic about the controversy-courting automobile tycoon. In anticipation of both films, Pace invited Lange to his apartment in New York’s West Village to talk about moviemaking, marketing, and, yes, the farm. She did a slight twirl upon entering the main room and, as one might expect from the queen of elevated shade, said, “Not bad, Lee—for a pied-à-terre.” —NICK HARAMIS

———

LANGE: Should we jump into acting?

PACE: Let’s start with the farm.

LANGE: I remember the first time I saw you, I had walked down to the pond and I looked across, and I saw somebody in that next field over there to the right. And I thought, “Fuck, I’m going to have a neighbor.” But then it turned out to be you, and that was swell.

PACE: I can’t imagine what you saw because those first few times, I was camping out there in a tent to try to figure out where I was going to build a house. I remember that first night, it was about four o’clock and it must have been early March or something. I had made camp, but I didn’t have enough time to make a fire before it got dark. I got into the tent, and I opened up my roast beef sandwich and start eating it, and then all around the quarry I heard the coyotes. I swear I heard one of them sniff the tent just right outside that nylon. So I made a ton of noise and ran back to the car.

LANGE: The land up there is haunted, but beautiful.

PACE: One of the things I’m most proud of is building that old frame out of raw timber on the edge of the woods. Then, right before Thanksgiving, I got a bunch of my friends together to push it up.

LANGE: It was like an old Amish barn raising. I remember because Sarah Paulson was staying up with me that weekend. I baked a pie and walked across the field with it wrapped in a linen basket, thinking, “This is something from another time.”

PACE: That farm has become such a big part of my life.

LANGE: As an actor, most of the time you’re staying in a hotel room in some strange city somewhere.

PACE: I do love seeing the world, and being in those hotel rooms. It’s such an incredible thing playing a character all day, and then at night you go home to this hotel and you wake up in the morning and you don’t quite know where you are.

LANGE: I think the part of it I’ve loved the most, and the part that’s been most difficult, is that nomadic life. When my kids were little, we were like a caravan. We moved dogs, birds, cats, kids, tutors—and that was great. But when you’re by yourself doing it, it’s incredibly lonely. Being an actor is an inherently lonely life.

PACE: It really is, isn’t it? It’s kind of disorienting in that way. It’s like having this sheet of thick glass between you and everyone else.

LANGE: Do you think in some way actors are already lonely people, who are then drawn to this life more than others?

PACE: There must be something.

LANGE: That and a traumatic childhood make a good actor.

PACE: Check.

LANGE: Tell me about Captain Marvel.

PACE: I’ve never read the script. I was doing Angels in America when I shot it.

LANGE: How in the hell did you do that?

PACE: That whole time of my life was insanity, so it just added to it. I basically did a matinee on Sunday, flew out to L.A., got painted blue, and put on a costume. Then I stood in front of a blue screen, and they’re like, “Okay, there’s a hologram in front of you and they’re saying this.” It’s so surreal in a way. I did two days of that, and then I was back onstage playing Joe Pitt in Angels in America.

LANGE: Well, that kind of covers acting A to Z, doesn’t it?

PACE: So many people see those movies and they entertain so many people, and I guess I’m an entertainer, so I embrace that. But if I’m being honest, it’s disorienting.

LANGE: When you were in Angels in America, you stepped in for another actor, right?

PACE: Yes, they had rehearsed it and had a whole run in England, so when they brought it back to Broadway, I was the only one who was new, so I was playing catch-up. As with all big experiences, life informs the situation, and it informed the interpretation of the character. When I read the play in high school, I understood this cognitive dissonance of Joe feeling like an alien in a world full of humans. I wanted to advocate for his point of view, because as a queer person, I’m seeing everyone behave as human and I feel like I’m painted blue. And the character really just goes through hell. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done because there was no pulling the punch going onstage. I was terrified about it every day, about walking through those shoes in that public way, because the character has just stripped off his skin.

LANGE: Sometimes those are the best acting moments, don’t you think? It confirms all the reasons why we do this. Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but in that production your performance was by far the most moving.

PACE: That means so much to me. I just felt so cooked by it, do you know what I mean? I think Tony [Kushner] knew it was coming to me, because I ran into him in Provincetown and he was like, “Hey, would you consider doing this?” I think he knew it was coming, and I’m glad I didn’t know.

LANGE: You don’t have to answer this, but how does it feel when there’s a certain discord—and I’m putting it lightly—with an actor opposite you. How do you find your way around that?

PACE: Well, I guess you’ve just got to show up for that first moment, right? You make your entrance, and that’s all I could do, really. I had to love this woman deeply, profoundly, unconditionally, and I did not. But the play does the work, really. Some nights, it hit such beautiful notes. Then there were times when I would look across at her, and I was like, “This isn’t the play we’re doing. You’re angry at someone else right now.” But there’s no redoing it, so yeah.

LANGE: This summer you’re going to star in a film as John DeLorean. How is playing an actual person different than playing a fictional character?

PACE: I love playing real people. You just get so much more color. The thing that was so fun about learning about John DeLorean is that no one has the same story about him. He left such different impressions on everyone he came into contact with. There are people who thought he was a visionary of a certain time. There are people who thought he was a crook.

LANGE: What ever happened with that car company of his?

PACE: There was this whole house of cards where he needed money to keep the business running, and so he got involved in a coke deal. But the FBI was setting him up, and they got video of the whole thing.

LANGE: If you could play anyone in the world, who would it be?

PACE: Putin? Trump? Let’s stick to mega-villains. I don’t know. I want to work with a good director who will pick for me.

LANGE: Is there a part you want to do onstage again?

PACE: I’m not 25 anymore, but I would love to have played Romeo. That’s a character I find so interesting and contradictory. I would also like to play Uncle Vanya. I think I could still play him.

LANGE: I think you could, too.

PACE: I can’t wait to get onstage again.

LANGE: I’ve found that with series, you get to have longer to develop a character. For all the disadvantages of doing a series, that’s one advantage.

PACE: There’s also the writers. I loved our writers on Halt and Catch Fire, because they watched us and saw things in us that they brought out of the character.

LANGE: They see you and know your strong points.

PACE: I think the writers in our room were like, “He’s going to hate this,” because my character gets dragged through hell. For the first few seasons, I was like, “This isn’t fair.”

LANGE: How much do you think an actor owes his fans? Is that even part of the way you think?

PACE: I think that’s a very contemporary view. Social media creates this call-out culture where people can view something as being problematic. But I don’t really consume a lot of media, so I don’t really pay attention to it much.

LANGE: Do you have—what are those sites called? Twitter?

PACE: I have Instagram. But it’s not really the media outlets on it that I find interesting. I just find cool people doing interesting stuff. To be honest, I look at very dumb memes.

LANGE: What’s a funny anecdote you remember from a fan approaching you?

PACE: I once went up to the farm—this was after I bought your house—and I saw this rotting bag of dumplings outside, along with a ticket to Shen Yun. Do you know that Chinese dance?

LANGE: Yes.

PACE: And there was a note that said, “I know you like dumplings, please come with me to Shen Yun. I’ll be waiting with a ticket for you. By the way, you have a beautiful farm.” [Laughs] I’m so grateful that people like the work that I do and that they respond to it. Twenty years ago, I never would have dreamed that people would have felt strongly about the work that I do. But one of the lessons I learned playing that role in Angels in America is that approval is really not what it’s about. Understanding is what it’s about.

LANGE: I’m so far outside the realm of social media, but from what I’ve heard people say, your presence—or following, or whatever—now adds to your bankability. It’s insane. I passed by somebody on the street today who was talking on her phone, and she said that she had 20 million followers.

PACE: I wonder who has the most. Would it be Selena Gomez? Let’s see how many she’s got—145 million followers.

LANGE: What does that even mean?

PACE: If she posts a picture, 145 million people will see it on their feed. I mean, that’s more than a movie.

LANGE: That’s a lot of people. It feels dangerous to me. I don’t mean to be a conspiracy theorist, but do we really understand what any of this stuff is? It makes you want to retire to the farm.

LEE: I love those days when you wake up and just make coffee, then walk out into the fields.

LANGE: Do you remember that one beautiful coyote that used to cross the field?

PACE: Yes.

LANGE: He was gorgeous!

PACE: I remember one time, the pond had frozen over and these coyotes chased a doe out onto the ice and then she slipped and fell, and they ripped her up. There were tracks going back into the woods where they took a piece of her. The next day, it thawed and it all disappeared like it had never happened.

x

[prettyboyroger]

Fame Chapter 1 “Whiskey On Ice”

Author: Sarah (@prettyboyroger)

Characters: BoRhap! Roger Taylor, Katherine Teague (OC), BoRhap! Mary Austin, Jane (OC, kinda), BoRhap! Brian May, BoRhap! Tim Staffell, BoRhap! Freddie Mercury

Pairing(s): BoRhap! Roger Taylor/OC, slight BoRhap! Mary Austin/Freddie Mercury in the background

Summary: A former child star making a new image for herself becomes involved with Roger Taylor as they both rise to fame, dealing with all that brings with it and that life brings along the way.

Rating/Warnings: PG-13/ Alcohol use, smoking, references to a character having had sex while underage (non-graphic)

Disclaimer: These portrayals are based off of the characters in Bohemian Rhapsody, I do not claim to know the real people that these are based on. This story is a work of fiction and the character of Katherine as well as many of the events in this series are fictional. I do not own Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody, or Roger Taylor. 

Word Count:  2869

A/N: Okay so this is chapter 1 of what’s hopefully going to be a long-running series. I’m finally contributing something to this fandom instead of just leeching off everyone else! Also I made this an OC instead of a reader insert because I wanted to do something a little different and have a character was a little less likable and more flawed and less of a blank slate. Please be gentle, I haven’t written a fanfiction in years, but I hope you like it! I wrote it with BoRhap! Roger in mind, but you can picture 1970 Roger Taylor and it’ll work just fine. If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know.

Music: Playlist for this chapter in general. Youtube playlist for the songs Smile played (yes I know that I Feel Good was not with Smile just let me have this)

Part 2

4 January 1970

Katherine adjusted the bow on her yellow dress in the mirror. She spun around to face her friend “So how do I look?”

“You look like you’re going to freeze,” Mary said dryly to her co-worker.

“You’re not even wearing nylons Kat!” Jane chimed in.

“Nylons were invented by the man to keep us down! They’re itchy and uncomfortable and not wearing them has the added benefit of free drinks all night,” Katherine smiled deviously to her friends. “In any case it’s not like I’m going to go home with anybody I’m just going to flirt a little and have some drinks, there’s nothing wrong with that, in fact, it makes me frugal!” Katherine said, brushing her long blonde hair.

“What it makes you is fast!” Jane teased dodging the hairbrush that Katherine had thrown at her.

“We’re only teasing Kathy you look great,” Mary said, adjusting the fur trim on her own coat.

“You’re not allowed to tease me on my birthday, it’s against the rules and I do, don’t I? Not quite as good as you, Mary, but I make up for it with my dazzling personality.”

Mary rolled her eyes “And unparalleled humility.”

“Of course I could do better if Mary were to come with me and help me…”

“As much fun as it sounds to be groped by strange creepy drunk men all night, I’ll just leave getting the drinks to you.”

“Oh live a little Mary! Don’t be such a square! And not all the guys are total creeps, who knows, you might just meet your destiny tonight!”

“Seems a funny way to meet my destiny, at a student band’s performance in a tiny pub.”

“A student band that we are going to miss if we don’t get going right now,” Jane chimed in.

The girls set out from Jane’s flat down to the pub two blocks down the road. Katherine was shaking and goosebumps appeared on her bare legs as they walked down the street.

“Cold, Kathy?” Jane taunted.

“I’ll have you know that my blood runs quite warm so I simply don’t get cold. I simply have goosebumps in anticipation, after all, it’s my 18th birthday and I can finally drink out at clubs!”

“Uh-huh and how are you gonna explain to the bartender at the same pub we’ve been going to for years that this is your 18th birthday?” Jane asked

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I have never been this pub before, I have been told that I have an uncanny resemblance to a woman named Karen Knight who may have frequented this pub in the past, but I have a suspicion that she won’t be coming back,” Kathy beamed as her friends rolled their eyes.

The girls walked into the pub together, showing Kathy’s real ID for once, just as the little student band was beginning to set up for the show. Kathy was chatting up one of the men at the bar, a ginger who was probably around 26, in a bid for free drinks just as the lead singer introduced the band.

“How are all you lovely people doing tonight? I’m Tim Staffell, we have the incomparable Brian May on guitar, and of course, the legendary Cornish drummer Roger Taylor.” That last comment earned Tim an eye roll from the blond drummer and a few giggles from the crowd. Must be an inside joke Kathy thought to herself. Kathy had paused her pursuit of drinks to look over at the band. The lead singer looked well enough and when he started to play the bass and sing he was certainly very talented, if a bit lacking in showmanship. The guitarist seemed very tall, at least in comparison to Tim, he really had a natural talent for this, he was probably the best of all of them and his guitar was very unique, it wasn’t a Strat like most people had, Kathy had never seen a guitar quite like this one before, it had a good sound, a unique sound quite unlike most of the others she had heard before. The drummer was probably the least technically skilled of the three of them, but he made up for it many times over by bringing in a certain showmanship that the other two lacked. He would twirl his drumsticks and smile at the pretty girls in the audience. The audience was charmed and mesmerized by him (the female members of the audience in any case). He was the best looking one, in Kathy’s opinion anyway, and it seemed a shame to her that he was hidden away in the back behind a drum kit. Kathy turned her attention back to the ginger in front of her as the band’s song played in the background.

Do do do

Do do do

“Do you come here often?” Kathy smiled at the ginger affecting her best northern accent. Guys like him always were suckers for sweet, naïve northern girls.

Do do do

Do do do

“I would come here more often if there were more girls like you here.” Kathy laughed and batted her pretty brown eyes.

Do do do

Do do do

“My, my but you are charming.” He wasn’t.

Do do do

Do do do

“Where are you from?”

Do do do

Do do do

“Carlisle.” She wasn’t.

Do do do

Do do do

“New in town, then? Can I get you a drink?” Hook, line, and sinker.

You take away my sunshine

You take away my rain

I can see it in your eye

“Well I mean, I don’t know if I should I mean my friends don’t have drinks either and I would just feel too bad drinking in front of them if they don’t have anything.” Years of acting were finally paying off for Kathy as she put on her best “dumb, silly little distressed girl face”.

There must be an answer somewhere

(there must be a way) “Four drinks please! I’ll have a gin & tonic and whatever the lady would like to order.” He had a smarmy smile on his face and his hand started to rub on Kathy’s bare thigh.

You can find a way I can see it in your eye “A Blue Hawaiian and a Pina Colada for my friends. I’ll have a whiskey on ice.” Kathy smiled at the ginger man before her, not allowing any of her distaste for him to show.

The bartender gave Kathy her drinks as the song started to wind down in a chorus of Do do do. Kathy smiled and removed the ginger’s hand from her thigh. “I’ll be right back and we’ll see what kind of trouble we can get into,” Kathy winked. She never saw the ginger again.

Kathy had a few talents and carrying three drinks through a crowded pub without spilling any of them was one of them. As she made her way over to Jane and Mary, she caught the eye of the drummer she had noticed earlier. God, he was gorgeous with long dirty blond hair and sparkling blue eyes and from the looks of it he knew it as he caught Kathy staring at him and winked at her from behind his drum set. Kathy flashed her winning smile right back at him, she would not be outdone in the overconfidence department. The drummer laughed and smiled after catching her smile before turning his attention back to his drums. He was terribly handsome, Kathy thought, I must say hello after the show. Kathy had made her way over to Mary and Jane just as the next song was starting up.

“Ladies, I come bearing gifts!” Kathy handed Mary her Pina Colada and Jane her Blue Hawaiian.

“Which poor sod did you trick into buying you these?” Mary prodded gently.

“The ginger that’s dressed like a square.”

“Kathy! That’s not a very nice thing to say!” Mary scolded, “Don’t be mean!”

“But it’s true isn’t it? Anyway don’t feel too bad for him, he got fresh with me.”

“Which I’m sure you in no way encouraged,” Jane chimed in in between sips of her drink.

“Are we here to judge me for getting free drinks out of a creep or are we here to have a good time?” Kathy asked, impatient to start having a good time, taking a swig of her whiskey.

The band played a short set consisting of some original stuff and some covers. All of the members were quite good singers, something that surprised Kathy.

“You rarely see a singing drummer! It’s very unique!” Kathy remarked earnestly watching the drummer sing a cover of “I Feel Good”.

“You fancy him, Kat?” Jane asked between sips of her drink.

“He is handsome dontcha think?” Kathy twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.

“Yeah, but he seems like a bit of a lad to me,” Jane responded.

“Well I’m not looking to marry him or anything I just think he looks like a good time for a night or so.”

Jane rolled her eyes as Kathy pulled out a cigarette.

“You know Kat I read those things are just awful for you,” Jane chided as Kathy pulled out her Zippo lighter and lit the cigarette.

“Well we all have to die somehow,” Kathy said taking a drag. As she exhaled the smoke rose and circled around the girls heads. Kathy never understood how non-smokers could stand to be in pubs, they always seemed to be more smoke than air. It was pretty in a way, at least to Kathy, the way the smoke would fog up the room putting a haze and a mystique to these pubs, a certain atmosphere was created there, one of anonymity and Kathy found it all very Romantic. Of course, to others like Jane it was just a choking hazard of dirty, smelly air.

As the song finished, the guitarist stepped up to the mic, “Now we only have one song left for you folks tonight,” Boos and whines erupted from the crowd, “No, no, now it’s a good one it’s called ‘Doing All Right’.”

The girls finished their drinks and Kathy finished her cigarette as the song hummed along in the background.

“Mary, what do you think of the singer? You always have had a thing for singers and you are the one who recommended that we should see this band anyway?” Kathy turned to her friend who had been unusually quiet this whole time.

Mary wasn’t paying attention to her friends and her eyes were focused on the bar at something. Or rather someone. A dark haired man was drinking a beer at the bar and watching the band attentively, hanging onto every note and Mary was watching him just as attentively.

“Mary!”

The pretty blonde finally noticed that her friends were trying to get her attention and spun around.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Well, we were going to ask you if you liked the singer, but you seem to be more interested in the gentleman at the bar,” Kathy giggled at her friend as Mary turned bright red.

“Well, I was just- I mean- He is quite handsome don’t you think? And Tim? Oh, he’s fine, but actually Brian, the guitarist, has been terribly kind to me.”

“Kind to you? You’ve talked to him?” Kathy asked her friend.

“Wait, Brian? I’ve heard that name before… weren’t you two going steady for a little while a few months ago?” Jane asked.

Kathy’s eyes lit up and her jaw hit the floor. “Wait, wait, wait, you were going steady with him? And you didn’t tell me? I didn’t know you had gone out with anybody, you never tell me anything!”

Mary looked overwhelmed with the sudden interrogation “Well we weren’t really going steady, we just went out on a few dates and-”

“What was he like? He looks a bit like a square, but he is a guitarist in a rock band and the things that guitarists can do with their fingers-”

“KAT! This is why I never tell you anything! Don’t make this dirty!”

“Oh honey this was dirty before I said anything!”

Mary was saved by the song coming to an end and the band thanking the audience and leaving the stage. People slowly began to shuffle out of the pub and into the hallway when Kathy stopped her friends in a doorway.

“I’m gonna go talk to the drummer.”

“God Kat. Should we wait for you?” Jane asked incredulously.

“No, no, don’t wait for me.”

“Kat, we’re not going to leave you here to go home with some guy you’ve never met. Besides, from what Brian’s told me, Roger is a lad,” Mary cautioned.

“Oh, so his name’s Roger then? I’d forgotten if he’d been introduced. Fantastic, thank you for your help,” Kathy spun around and walked out to the back where the band was, ignoring her friends’ protests.

Kathy opened the doors to see the three boys putting the last of the drum kit into the van.

“I liked your show.”

The boys spun around to see Kathy standing just outside of the door smiling at them with her prettiest, most practised smile. Kathy had a burst of pride when she saw Brian flush as soon as he looked at her, the one thing Kathy always took pride in was how pretty she was. She knew that girls were not supposed to think that they’re pretty, but Kathy was very pretty and everyone had always told her so all her life from her mother, to casting directors, to her agent. Other girls had wit and grace and they were allowed to think to think that they those, why should she not be allowed to think that she was pretty?

Well, as long as men look at me like that, I’ll always have something Kathy thought to herself.

“I- Thank you glad you liked it,” Brian stuttered out before quickly turning back to the van and putting more stuff in in an effort to hide the blush on his face. Kathy stifled a laugh at that. The singer Jim? No? Lin? Was also putting stuff into the van seemingly lost in thought. Roger did not blush sweetly like Brian did. He simply smiled the cockiest smile that Kathy had ever seen as he approached her.

“I noticed you enjoying the show,” he looking up and down her body in a completely un-gentlemanly way. He lowered his voice and whispered in her ear “And I noticed you looking at me.”

Kathy laughed and turned to him, her voice as soft as his, “Is that right? Because I seem to remember it being you looking at me.” The blondes smirked at each other.

“I’m Roger.”

“Kathy. Or Katherine if you’re my mother and I’ve pissed you off.”

Roger laughed at that. “Listen, what are you doing-”

“Roger, hey, I need to talk to you,” the singer Tom? Interrupted the two.

Roger turned to the singer, annoyance flickering in his eyes, “Can it wait, I’m kinda in the middle of something, Tim.” Tim! That was it!

“No, Roger, I’m sorry, but it’s important. And miss? I’m sorry, but I really need to talk to Roger and Brian. Alone.”

“I understand. See you around Roger.”

Kathy turned around towards the hall, a little annoyed, though not as annoyed as Roger who Kathy heard as she was heading back, “Are you joking? You better have something important to say, she was about an hour and two drinks away from shagging me!”

Kathy saw Mary and Jane still standing in the doorway where she had left them as she came back, they were looking at someone down the hall from her. As Kathy followed their gaze she noticed the dark-haired man that Mary had been staring at earlier walking towards her. He stopped suddenly and turned around to look at Mary.

“I like your coat,” the dark-haired stranger said.

“She got it at Biba, she works there!” Jane chimed in smiling at Mary who turned to Jane, irritation flickering on her face.

“Thank you.” Mary said, her annoyance and embarrassment visible on her face.

The dark-haired man smiled and continued walking down the hallway, passing Kathy. Kathy rejoined her friends, as bemused as Jane was at how flustered the dark-haired man made her.

“Well, well Mary, you have an admirer!” Kathy said.

“I do not have an admirer! I’ve seen him at other Smile shows and he just wanted to know where the band is and he probably just recognized me. And aren’t you supposed to be shagging some drummer by now?”

Kathy gasped in mock outrage, “Well I never! I was merely inviting him over for a chaste afternoon tea and you and your dirty mind turned this into something naughty that I never could have dreamed of! Honestly Mary!”

“Spare us Kathy, we both know that you are as much a virgin as Mary Magdalene was. Did you get shot down?”

“I have never and will never be shot down in my life! Tim just needed to talk to him.”

“What about?”

“No idea. Band stuff, probably. Anyway, we have to open tomorrow, want to head back?”

“Gladly.”

A/N Pt. 2: That’s all folks! Also don’t crucify me for the descriptions Kathy gives of the band’s playing, they’re based off of biographies of Queen that I read that said that Tim was good enough to get recruited to an up and coming band, Brian was exceptionally talented from the early days of Queen, and Roger wasn’t perfect technically at first, it took him until about Sheer Heart Attack to really get his drumming down to the exceptional level it is today! I don’t know enough about music to make these kind of judgments on my own, I think they sound really good, even from the beginning! But Kathy as a character would so I had to defer to what other people who know music said about it! Again, please be kind I haven’t written any fanfiction in a very long time!!

[the-desolated-quill]

Quill’s Swill - The Worst Of 2018

Congratulations dear reader. You survived 2018. And you know what that means. It’s time for another best of/worst of list. Welcome to Quill’s Swill 2018. A giant septic tank for the various shit the entertainment industry produced over the course of the year. The films, games, TV shows and various other media that got on my bad side. As always please bear in mind that this is only my subjective opinion (if you happen to like any of the things on this list, good for you. I’m glad someone did) and that obviously I haven’t seen everything 2018 has to offer for one reason or another. In other words, sorry that Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes Of Grindelwald isn’t on here. I’m sure it is as terrible as some have been suggesting. I just never got around to watching it.

Okay everyone. Grab your breathing masks and put on your rubber gloves. Let’s dive into this shit pile.

Hold The Sunset

The news that John Cleese would be returning to the world of BBC sitcoms was incredibly exciting, being a massive Fawlty Towers fan and all. Unfortunately Hold The Sunset was not quite what I had in mind. It’s one of those rare breed of situation comedies that chooses to offer no actual comedy. It’s not a sitcom. It’s a sit. Like Scrubs or The Big Bang Theory.

An elderly couple plan to elope abroad only for Alison Steadman’s son to barge in, having left his wife, and forcing them to put their plans on hold. Hence the title ‘Hold The Sunset.’ It’s like a cross between As Time Goes By and Sorry, but if all the humour and relatability were surgically removed by a deadpan mortician. The characters are weak, the plots are thin on the ground and the humour (hat little of it there is) feel incredibly dated. The middle aged mummy’s boy is something that hasn’t been funny since the 90s. It’s an utter waste of great talent and what hurts even more is that this tripe is actually getting a second series. I can only assume the people watching this are comatose. Either that or there’s an epidemic of people in Britain who have lost the remote.

Avengers: Infinity War

Yes this is one of the worst movies of 2018 and no I don’t regret saying that one little bit. Avengers: Infinity War was fucking terrible. Period. There were too many plots and characters going on, which made the film hard to follow (and what staggers me is that the so called ‘professional’ critics have condemned movies for having too many characters and plots before. Spider-Man 3, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Batman vs Superman: Dawn Of Justice and even Deadpool 2. But because this is an MCU movie, it gets a free pass. Fuck off). The characterisation was weak due to sheer number of characters they try to juggle, resulting in characters coming off as one dimensional caricatures of themselves and scenes where characters such as Iron Man, Doctor Strange and Star-Lord sound completely interchangeable. The villain, Thanos, is a stupidly and poorly written villain, but that’s hardly surprising considering what a shit job Marvel have done building him up over the course of these 20+ movies. And let’s not forget that pisstake ending. A bunch of prominent Marvel characters die and it’s all very, very sad... except all these characters just so happen to have sequels planned, which makes this ending fucking pointless and have less impact than a feather on a bouncy castle.

I don’t know which is more shocking. That Marvel and Disney think their audience are that stupid and gullible, or that their audience are actually validating their view. Fuck you Disney.

Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery

I’ve always wanted a Harry Potter RPG, where you could customise your character, choose your house and actually live a full school life at Hogwarts. This year, Warner Bros and Jam City gave us just that.

That was a mistake.

Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery is the epitome of everything that’s wrong with the mobile gaming market right now. The gameplay is boring and involving where you just tap images on a screen until a progress bar fills up. Wizard duels are little more than rock-paper-scissors challenges that require no kind of skill. Bonding with friends and caring for magical creatures just consist of pathetically simple pop quizzes and yet more boring tapping. Oh and of course you only get a certain amount of energy to complete these tedious tasks. If you run out of energy, you wait for it to fill up... or pay up for the privilege. So determined are they to extract your hard earned cash from your wallet, there’s actually a bit where Devil’s Snare strangles your eleven year old avatar and the game effectively tries to guilt trip you into paying micro-transactions to save them. It’s sleazy, gross and manipulative. Honestly, you’re better off just playing Candy Crush.

Agony

When the developers of this game said they wanted to give the player a trip through Hell, they had no idea how true that statement really was. Agony is dreadful on a number of levels. The design for Hell itself, while visually interesting at times, is often not very practical and gets quite dull and repetitive after a while. The stealth mechanics are a joke and the AI of your demonic enemies are pitiful. All of this alone would have been enough to put this game on the list, but then we also have the casual misogyny. Agony is a gorefest trying desperately to shock the player. We see men and woman get tortured, but it’s the women that often get the extreme end. The violence inflicted on them is often sexual in nature and the game seems to go out of its way to degrade and dehumanise women at every turn. The orgasmic cries of ‘pull it out’ quickly become a staple of the game’s experience as we see naked women raped, tortured and murdered, all for the purposes of ‘entertainment.’

I would call Agony sexist, but honestly that would be giving it too much credit. Agony is like a little child trying desperately to be all dark and edgy in a pathetic attempt to impress everyone around him, and we should treat it as such. Go to your room Agony. No ice cream for you.

Peter Rabbit

If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of Beatrix Potter rotating in her grave.

Yes we have yet another live action/CGI hybrid, but instead of something innocuous like the Smurfs or Alvin and the Chipmunks, Sony instead decides to adapt Peter Rabbit, with James Corden in the title role.

It’s about as bad as you’d expect.

Their attempts to modernise the story are painful to say the least with pop culture references, inappropriate adult humour and twerking rabbits. Plus rather than the gentle, but slightly mischievous character we got in the source material, here Peter is a sociopathic delinquent who seems to revel in making the farmer’s life a living hell. He’s unlikable and unwatchable as far as I’m concerned and the film doesn’t in anyway earn the emotional moments it tries so desperately to sell to the audience. And the worst part is it’s getting a sequel.

Wait. Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of Beatrix Potter tearing out of the ground, ready to kill whatever idiot came up with this shit.

Fallout 76

I was excited for Fallout 76. A MMORPG where players band together to rebuild society after a nuclear apocalypse. Could have been great. Pity it wasn’t.

Fallout 76 is a dreadful game. Not only is it a buggy, glitchy mess that requires a constant online connection to play, which could result in you losing hours of progress if your WiFi went down, it’s also unbelievably tedious, and that’s because there’s nothing to do in the game. There’s no other characters to interact with, the various robots and computers you come across are really little more than quest givers, there’s no actual plot so to speak, and because of the sheer size of the world and the number of players allowed on a server, the chances of you actually meeting any actual players is remote. And let’s not forget all the behind the scenes drama. Bethesda falsely advertising Fallout themed canvas bags and players getting shitty nylon ones. Bethesda accidentally releasing the account information of various players trying to get a refund for said bag. Bethesda failing to program the year 2019 into the game code, meaning that the game’s nukes don’t work.

Maybe there’s a chance that Bethesda could pull a No Man’s Sky and fix everything over the coming years with various patches and DLCs, but the damage has already been done. It’s incredibly disappointing. The Elder Scrolls 6 is going to have be fucking incredible to win everyone back.

Mama Mia!: Here We Go Again

I can’t stand jukebox musicals anyway, but Mamma Mia was always one of the worst. Its boring, meandering story with its one note, obnoxious cast of characters screeching out ABBA songs like they’re at some drunken karaoke session at some poor sod’s hen party has always grated on my nerves. So imagine my delight when they announced we were getting a sequel. Ever wondered how Meryl Streep met her three lovers and founded her hotel? No? Well tough shit, we’re going to tell you anyway.

Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again is basically just Mamma Mia again. The actors still can’t sing, the characters are still annoying and story is still boring and meandering, completely at the mercy of the chosen songs rather than the filmmakers using the songs to compliment the story (you know? Like proper musicals do?).

How can I resist you? Very easily as it turns out. Gimme, gimme, gimme a fucking gun so I can end my misery.

The Cloverfield Paradox

A lot of people were unhappy about the direction Cloverfield was going. They wanted a continuation of the found footage, kaiju movie from 2008, not an anthology series. I was personally all in favour. Partially because I thought the first Cloverfield was a tad overrated, but mostly because I thought it would be a great opportunity for more experimental film projects and could be a great launchpad for new writers and filmmakers. 10 Cloverfield Lane was a great start. Then The Cloverfield Paradox happened.

The Cloverfield Paradox is basically JJ Abrams trying to have his cake and eat it too. Maintaining the anthology format whilst connecting everything together in a ‘shared universe’ (yes, yet another shared universe). The result was a cliched, poorly edited and idiotic mess of a film that actually took away from the previous two films rather than added to them. Everyone hated it and, as a result, 2018′s Overlord, which was totes going to be part of the Cloververse, was made its own standalone film and Abrams double pinky promised to make a true sequel to the original Cloverfield. A complete and total disaster. No wonder it was a straight-to-Netflix film.

The Handmaid’s Tale - Season 2

This is probably going to be the most controversial entry on the list, but please hear me out because I’m not the only one who has a problem with this season.

I was reluctant to watch The Handmaid’s Tale simply because of how gruesome the original book was, but I forced myself to watch the first season and I thought it was pretty good. It remained faithful to the source material for the most part and included some nice additions that helped to expand the story and mythos. If it was just a one off mini-series, everything would have been fine. But then they made the same mistake as The Man In The High Castle and Under The Dome did where they commissioned another season and attempted to tell a story that goes beyond the book.

There’s a reason why the original story ended where it did. The Handmaid’s Tale isn’t meant to be an empowering story about women sticking it to the patriarchy. It’s a cautionary tale about how fragile our civil rights truly are and how easily they can be taken away from us. It’s designed to shock, not to satisfy. So seeing a handmaid blow herself up in a suicide bombing feels very incongruous and just a little bit silly. It would be like doing a TV adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984 where the first season followed the source material and then the second season turned Winston Smith into this heroic freedom fighter trying to overthrow Big Brother. It would represent a fundamental misunderstanding of what the book was about in the first place.

And then of course there’s the increased level of violence in Season 2, which many have complained about. In Season 1 and the original source material, the violence was justified. In Season 2, the motivation behind the violence has gone from ‘how can we effectively demonstrate how easily a fascist patriarchy can happen in the West?’ to ‘what brutal act can we inflict upon Ofglen to shock the audience this week?’ It’s purely for shock and nothing more. And with the showrunner (who I feel I should mention is a man) announcing that he has planned ten seasons of this, it seems that The Handmaid’s Tale is going to go even further with this depravity until it effectively becomes the equivalent of a Saw film.

The Handmaid’s Tale exists as a way of shining light on and critiquing misogyny in its most extreme form. Season 2 however demonstrates that there is a serious risk of it becoming the very thing it’s criticising in the first place.

The Predator

I love the Predator franchise, but The Predator is the worst.

People thought that this would be good because director Shane Black had actually starred in the first Predator movie back in 1987. Instead we got this bloated, confusing, obnoxious and insulting mess of a film that seems to go out of its way to ruin everything that makes Predator so good. There’s no tension. No suspense. No intrigue. Just a bunch of gore, explosions and shitty one liners from annoying and lifeless characters. They essentially took this big alien game hunter from outer space and turned him into a generic monster from a bad summer blockbuster. It no longer hunts for sport. It wants to take over the world and splice our DNA with theirs. But don’t worry, a rogue Predator doesn’t want to kill humans (even though he himself kills a bunch of humans), so he gives us a Predator Iron Man suit to set up a sequel that will probably never happen because this movie was a box office bomb and it fucking SUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKEEEEEDDDD!!!

This film also has a very nasty streak towards those with disabilities. There’s a lot of jokes at the expense of a character with Tourette’s and it has an extremely ignorant and patronising view of autism, portraying the main character’s kid as being a super genius who can decipher the Predator language and even going so far as to say that he represents ‘the next stage of human evolution.’ Presumably the Predators want social communication difficulties because apparently it helps them hunt somehow.

What with Disney acquiring 20th Century Fox, the future of both the Alien and Predator franchises were very much in question. This film needed to be a success in order to make a case for Disney to keep making more of them. It wasn’t. Congratulations Shane Black. You might have just killed off this franchise for good. Thanks arsehole! :D

So those were my least favourite stories from 2018. Join me on Wednesday where we shall discuss something more positive. Yes, it’s awards season. Who shall win the coveted Quill Seal Of Approval? Watch this space...

Or don’t. It’s up to you. I don’t want to force you or anything. It’s a free country.

[the-murders-seen]

Patterns of a Serial Killer

STEP 1. ‘The Aura Phase’

The first step that the potential killer takes occurs when he begins to withdrawal from reality and enter into his own private world of perverted fantasy. Friends, family and those who encounter the person, may not be able to detect this person’s change in personality. Time can slow down in his/her mind, colours tend to become vivid, sounds more intense and the person becomes completely cut-off from any normal stimuli. When in this phase, a killer becomes antisocial and life no longer has meaning to him/her.

The killer’s thought process at this time involves looking around for someone on whom to lay the blame for his/her anger and hatred. 

STEP 2. ‘The Trolling Phase’

The killer next begins to seek out his victim, focusing on those venues he is most likely to find the type of person he has chosen to prey on. For some this may be schoolyards, car parks or in Jack the Ripper’s case public doss-houses in London’s East End.

Trolling does not consist of random or accidental encounters. Jack the Ripper knew exactly where to find desperate women. William Booth founder of the Salvation Army, declared there were between 60,000 and 80,000 prostitutes in London in the 1880s, and in 1888 there were 149 registered doss-houses in Whitechapel. Four of ‘Jacks’ five canonical victims were living in such places. I believe that he had previous knowledge of these crime scenes, obtained well before his vile acts. This is evident in the fact that he was able to move through the areas to make speedy, perfect escapes, not drawing attention to himself as an unfamiliar face.

STEP 3. ‘The Wooing Phase’

Most serial killers once they have identified their victim-to-be, then try to win his/her confidence and like a fisherman, lure their ‘catch’ into a trap.

Jack the Ripper more likely than not let the poor unfortunate women lead him to their usual secluded place, away from the prying eyes of the law and others. In so doing, they chose where they were to die. To my mind Jack the Ripper would not have had the look of a suspicious character. That is, he was likely a regular and trusted customer of theirs.

George Hutchinson heard Mary Jane Kelly say to a suspect: “All right my dear. Come along you will be comfortable.” Mary sounded extremely comfortable.

STEP 4. ‘The Capture Phase’

This is the phase or step in which the killer springs the trap he has set for his victims.

Researchers believe that ‘Jack’ struck his victims from behind, to catch her by surprise and to minimize the chances of her crying for help. He grabbed her throat with his bear hands, strangling her to unconsciousness. None of his victims appeared to have any time to put up much of a struggle.

STEP 5. ‘The Murder’

The moment of actually causing the victims death, is normally the emotional high for most confessed serial killers. In these seconds, some killers have reported spontaneous orgasms to signify their moment of triumph.

The fact that the Whitechapel murderer appeared to strangle his victims to unconsciousness first, slash her throat to render her dead, before performing the mutilations, suggests that his prime goal was not to merely cause death but to satisfy some grizzly lust of his.

STEP 6. ‘The Totem Phase’

The serial killer’s feeling of triumph normally fades rapidly once the victim is dead, so to prolong his/her pleasure, he/she will often remove and take a souvenir or totem associated with the victim.

Often the killer’s intention is to retain certain body parts as a big-game hunter mounts the head of his prey on a wall. John Christie stored his naked victims in his kitchen cupboard not only as trophies but as sexual partners. As Robert Hansen was a married man with a family, it would have been impossible for him to store human body parts, so instead he stole his victims jewelry. Other serial killers have collected footwear, clothing, nylon stockings, suspender belts, brassieres and panties.

The Ripper’s fifth and final victim, Mary Jane Kelly, had her heart removed and taken from the crime scene, which to me and others suggests the murderer was closer to Mary. The killer stole Mary’s heart!

STEP 7. ‘The Depression Phase’

Dr. Joel Norris writes that after a killer causes a death, ‘post-homicidal depression’ sets in and triggers the cycle of steps to beginning all over again. This is why a serial killer kills more than once and isn’t known to stop killing until he/she is caught or dies.

Serial killer Ted Bundy confessed that he never really got what he had hoped for out of his murders. Kallinger reported the same, as did Henry Lee Lucus and others. After the most recent murder, the serial killer experiences an emotional let-down and will inhabit a shadowy world of gloom until that person again begins to enter their own world of perverted fantasy, as described in ‘Step 1.’ 

Sources: 

* ‘ Casebook: Jack the Ripper ’ -  Leanne Perry http://www.casebook.org/dissertations/ripperoo-serial.html

* ‘The Many Faces of Jack the Ripper’ - M.J. Trow.

* ‘A-Z Encyclopedia Of Serial Killers’ - Harold Schechter & David Everitt.

* ‘The Crime Library’ http://www.crimelibrary.com/