#I forgot what everyone picked on the poll for role playing

[mando-abs]

Joel:

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 7.1k

chapter summary: Everyone comes together to finally finish the renovations for the room.

warnings: phone sex but with visuals (does this make sense? i hope it does lmao), small injury, teasing, dirty talk, stripping, mutual masturbation, hurt/comfort, joel self-blaming, single parent insecurities, gray sweatpants kink do not judge me yes i know i have a problem, general insecurities revolving around having kinks, use of good girl, praise kink

Chapter Nine || Chapter Eleven

Hushed giggles and tentatively exchanged kisses linger into the morning. August is still sleeping, which means you have the perfect opportunity to sneak Joel out the door. You feel him all around. His lips on the back of your neck, and hands on your hips. Neither Joel nor you, wants him to go out that door. Joel stalls for a moment, cradling your face with large palms as he pulls you for a kiss. Your fingertips brush the doorknob. Your body melting as you feel his tongue licking over your bottom lip. 

“This is kinda excitin’, sneakin’ around like this,” he says into your mouth. “When will I see you again?” 

"You're acting like we don't live across from each other, neighbor," you answer with a humorous chuckle. His thumb swipes the skin right under your eye, and your smile grows in size. "But I'll see you this afternoon. Tommy is coming over, and we're going to carry everything into the room."

“Big day,” he hums. “You need me to bring anythin’?” 

“Just your handsome self will be enough.” 

With a sudden rise in his posture, he towers over you and pins your hips against his. Sweat beads at your tailbone, your insides clenching with the ghost sensation of his cock. His pupils are dilated. 

“You sure know how to get a man all riled up, honey.” he rasps, voice dipping like sweet poison, you’d be happy to take. You shudder, an exhale escaping your lips. You feel him through the rough fabric of his jeans. Oh, the things you would give to have him in your mouth. You swallow instinctively, then, mustering all of your willpower, you open the door. 

The morning sun pours through the door. Fresh, warm, and bright. The beam caresses Joel’s back and reaches all the way to your toes. A soft wind blows, ruffling his already mussed hair. You feel the growl resonating in his chest, the tremors seeping into your own worn out body. With a smile, you give him a quick peck on the side of his chin, the rough hairs tickling your lips.  

“I’ll see you then, alright? And after that. . .” you drag a finger down his chest, gently poking his stomach. A puff of air escapes him. “We can have some celebratory fun.” 

“I like the sound of that sweet tea,” he peers over your shoulder, briefly glancing to the living room as if someone might appear at any second. Then he drags his gaze back to you. “When’s your brother leavin’?” 

“Tomorrow morning—and speaking of, can you drive us to the airport?” 

He feigns offense and gasps, placing both hands right above his heart. “I knew there was a catch for last night. An ulterior motive,” he says.

“Oh, hush you,” you playfully chide, nudging him towards the door. “I can ask Tommy too if you’re busy—” 

Joel is quick to cut you off “Nah, I’ll do it. It’ll be easier.” he answers, taking a backwards step through the door. The sun now fully beating down his skin. 

Do you hint. . .jealousy in his tone? It’s hard for you to make sense of it, especially after the very passionate night you two shared. But in the end, you know little about their relationship with each other. The thought makes guilt rear in your heart. Wrapped up in your own grief and feelings you’ve done very little to learn more intimate details about their past. 

Noticing this, Joel pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. A lazy smile makes its way across his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you answer. He raises a brow, clearly not believing you. With a sigh, you drop your eyes to the floor. “I just realized I didn’t put in the effort to know you guys better. Which is very shitty of me.” 

“Hey, look at me, sweetheart. . .” he says softly, his voice dripping like dark molasses. You do as you’re told and he smiles brightly. “We have a whole lotta time to get to know each other better. That’s what dates are for, so don’t worry so much about it. I’d hate to see you frownin’ after such a delightful night.” 

“Dates?” you repeat slowly, eyes wide. He grins and your heart skips a beat. 

“Yes, dates. You really thought I wasn’t goin’ to take you on one?” 

Honestly, it hadn’t really crossed your mind. Having the luxury of seeing Joel whenever you wanted, even without the intention to bump into him, has made you forget about the concept of going out and learning more about one another. You just assumed “dating” meant any time he was around. Now that he addressed it, saying that he wanted to take you on actual dates. . . you’re excited, to say the least. Seeing him all dressed up for you, taking you by the hand as he showed you his favorite places. . . you can definitely get used to that. 

“Okay I really should get goin’ now,” he mutters, briefly checking his arm for a watch that isn’t there. He holds your hand and squeezes it twice before heading off next door. You watch until he disappears and you close the door, a soft smile touching your lips. 

You sigh and lean against the door. Some part of you wants to slide down dramatically, fully content in just thinking about him until the time you two reunite comes once again. 

But you don’t. Instead, you head to the room. The hall is dimly lit, the sun not reaching the narrow space yet. You open the door and take a step inside. The painting you made of him is still there. Not that it could be anywhere else. It’s still unfinished. However, now that everything had been said and done, you don’t really have the urge to finish it. It feels complete without actually being so. You had buried your sorrow and heartbreak into this painting. Your sadness bleeding into the paint to create a disoriented mirage of the man you. . . liked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks— you really do have a problem with getting attached way too quickly, don’t you? Sinking your teeth into your tongue, you pick up the painting and lean it against the wall, the back of it facing the outside to hide what it was. It still surprises you that Joel figured it out from the tiny little bullseye you added. You had done it by impulse. And now you’re happy that you did. He must’ve been observing it quite thoroughly in order to see that little smudge. 

“Well, good morning little sister.” 

You jump, your head whipping in the direction of the groggy voice. August has his one eyebrow raised, his broad body leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He gives you a lopsided smile. Embarrassment rolls in your stomach. 

“Auggie!” you greet him, albeit a bit eagerly. “Good morning!” 

“You know that the walls are thin,” he says, ignoring your enthusiasm. A nervous laughter comes out strangled from your lips. “You know that and still—Still you decided to traumatize me.” 

“I swear we were trying to be quiet.” 

“God, I don’t want to know when you two aren’t trying to be quiet. Jesus. Thank whoever fuck created earplugs.” 

To the untrained eye it would’ve looked like he was berating you but from the twinkle in his eye and unwavering smile, you know he’s just teasing you. Your shoulders drop and you shake your head with a grin. 

“So far for keeping it a secret.” 

His other eyebrow joins the other at his hairline, “Secret?” he parrots. “Why are you trying to keep it a secret?” 

“There’s so much I have to tell you,” you answer. You lock your arm with his and start walking down the hall together, heading for the kitchen. “How about your little sister apologizes with chocolate chip pancakes and fills you in.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

The Millers join you in the afternoon. 

Before they arrived, you and August had baked focaccia from scratch and cinnamon rolls—well, it was more you baked and Auggie kept you company but nonetheless, you still thought of his conversation as a helping hand. And he did help you knead the dough so you had to give him that. The three arrive all together, Joel and Tommy looking like hell whilst Sarah was her usual chipper self. 

When you open the door, you have to admit, it’s awkward. Your cheeks heat up immediately, your eyes flitting between the two brothers. Tommy enters first, his hand on your waist as he pulls you in for a gentle kiss on the cheek. His scent fills your nostrils. For a moment you feel like you’re drowning in it. In him. Your breath catches in your throat and you awkwardly wrap your hands around him. While your face is nestled right above his shoulder, you notice Joel’s fixed gaze. His jaw locked. You can’t tell if it’s from guilt or worry, you end up looking away. 

Tommy pulls away and pinches your right cheek with two fingers, “How’ve you been sweetheart?” 

Oh god oh god oh god 

You can feel Joel's stare piercing through Tommy's back, his expression revealing a hint of frustration. How is this supposed to work if he gets worked up this easily?  You and Tommy are close friends and you intend to keep it that way. Tommy calling you sweetheart isn’t something Joel should be threatened by. Perhaps there's more to their relationship than meets the eye, some unresolved issues from their past. If Joel was just nervous, or anxious, that would be understandable—so are you—but he shouldn’t be angry. 

“I’m good, thanks,” you answer with a forced smile. “How was work?” 

He points his thumb in Joel's direction without turning around. “This one,” he says, “worked me beyond measure. I swear I don't get paid enough.”

“Consider yourself lucky to be gettin’ paid at all,” Joel steps in as Tommy makes his way into your home. He leans in and brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. A shudder crawls up your spine. “Been thinkin’ about you all day,” he mutters. 

“Yeah?” you swallow. “I’ve been thinking about you too.” 

Joel pulls back, his hands skimming down your waist, he stares at you for a second. You’re unsure what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, he must’ve found it because he smiles and nods. 

He trails after Tommy, and you follow. The hallway is cluttered with furniture that you plan on moving inside, followed by some bookshelves, a desk, the bean bag chair Tommy bought you, and many many boxes. The walls were completely done, the colors looking beautiful and fresh. You come to stand at the thresehold of the door, Tommy and August laugh at something simultaneously. Your nerves buzz with anxiety. August understood the situation, the messiness of it. Despite that, he still said that you should just fess up and explain everything to Tommy. He just didn’t understand you weren’t ready to have that conversation yet. 

Meanwhile, Sarah is looking over the boxes. Her nimble fingers moving over the jagged corners. 

“Alright,” you call out, slapping both hands together. Everyone’s attention is on you now. You grin widely. “Let’s start.” 

You’re sweating. 

Salty water trickles down your spine, thick and uncomfortable, as it causes your oversized shirt to stick to your skin. You've always sweated easily. Bringing another box inside, you notice August propping up one of the bookshelves. He doesn't even have a single drop of sweat on that stupid face of his. Asshole. You place the box down with a huff, and Sarah opens it, starting to place the books and other knick-knacks on the bookshelves. You had given her full control over the placement of objects, and so far, it's looking good.

Joel, rightfully so, had placed some distance between the two of you. Careful not to cheat a glance while he reassembles the table. Tommy had been silent too. He was much more talkative compared to Joel, but you could tell something was on his mind. 

August catches you staring at Tommy and raises a curious eyebrow. He gives you a barely there shake of his head, making you pout in response. After that, he shrugs, disappearing into the hall to pick up more boxes. You blow an exasperated raspberry into the air and push your hair back, grimacing at the way sweat clings to your palm. You groan, wipe your hand on your shirt, then stare at Sarah again. She’s fast with stocking the bookshelf. You’re impressed. 

Or perhaps you were staring at Tommy longer than you thought. 

Sarah steps back to admire her work, the gothic bookshelf towers over her, its dark wood polished to perfection. The shelves are narrow, but expertly arranged, showcasing an impressive collection of books. However, something is off. You notice the wood trembling slightly, tilting, and starting to give in to gravity. Your eyes widen and at the same time your lips part to tell her to move away, the bookshelf begins its ascend down. 

Stepping forward, you push her out of the way. The bookshelf crashes down, books and small cutesy decorations flying in all directions. You manage to hold it up with your forearm, preventing it from collapsing completely. Sarah gasps loudly and you hear the three men in the room shuffling around, panicked. 

You feel the weight of it in your arms as you struggle to keep it from toppling over. You hate to admit, but your eyes sting with involuntary tears. Your arm scrapes against the rough surface of the wood, and a small trickle of blood runs down your skin. You hiss at the pain. Your body starts to shake—fuck, just how heavy is this thing? 

So focused on trying to keep the damn furniture upright, you don’t see someone rushing to your aid. The weight suddenly being lifted, you your legs fumble momentarily. Sweat rolls down the frame of your face. 

You meet Joel’s gaze as the shadow cast by the bookshelf dissipates. Your eyes burn while they adjust to the light. Only after, do you notice Joel’s hardened gaze, his clenched jaw, and his tightly wound-up muscles. A soft gasp leaves your lips. One that can be easily misunderstood as a sight of relief. Joel props the bookshelf to its original place and a beat later he’s standing an inch away from you. Chest to chest. Your heart beats in your throat. 

There’s a hand on your shoulder. August, your brain informs you. And the other smaller presence near you must be Sarah. You’re still staring at Joel. Too transfixed to move your eyes away. You think you feel the brush of his fingers skimming up your arms, but you know you must be dreaming it because his hands are glued to his sides. 

“You’re bleeding!” Sarah says panicked. “I’m so so sorry. I—” 

Her tone snaps you out of it. Forcing a smile you turn to her and touch her hand to calm her. “It’s okay. I’m fine. It’s just a little blood.” your eyes jump across her worry-stricken face. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she answers but that doesn’t stop Joel from cradling her cheeks, tilting her head, and looking into her eyes as he examines her. 

“You sure, baby girl?” he asks, his tone proof that he doesn’t quite believe her. Sarah pushes his arms away and looks down at his socked feet. She nods. 

Tommy takes your hand, looking over your arm. Goosebumps rise over your skin. A tingle buzzing at the base of your spine. “You’ll live,” he says with a grin and a wink. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles from you. 

“I wasn’t aware you had a medical degree.” 

He rolls his eyes and your heart feels a ton lighter. You’ve missed joking around with him like this, you’ve missed him. 

“Either way you should get patched up,” August chimes in, always the voice of reason. You have half the mind to stick your tongue at him but don’t. “You have a first aid kit, right?” 

“By kit if you mean stuff I randomly picked up from the drug store that I threw in a basket then yes.” 

He narrows his eyes, parting his lips. You know what he’s going to say. He’s going to say; Come on let’s go, I’ll patch you up. But before he can, Joel steps in, his eyes not once turning to you. 

“I’ll help you out,” he says. It resembles more of a grunt rather than a sentence uttered out of kindness. “Lead the way.” 

Tommy opens his mouth, words crawling up the back of his throat. You don’t hear anything. August smacks a hand over his shoulder and gestures toward the door. “You two get cleaned up, the three of us will get this mess sorted,” his eyes briefly move over the scattered books, landing on the bookshelf with squinted eyes. “And we’ll fix the bookshelf up too.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy follows up, turning to Joel. “Take care of her.” 

“You know I will.” 

There’s a weird tension in the air. Tommy’s words make you flail for a moment, the blossoming pain in your arm fading to the background, only leaving a sizzle. The brother's eyes lock with each other. A silent conversation takes place. For a moment you think Tommy knows. Your shoulders raise and an impossibly short moment feels like hours. August and Sarah seem to miss it, already starting to pick up the books and placing them neatly over the fluffy carpet. Some hopeful part of your wants to believe this is Tommy giving his blessing. But another part is telling you that it might be the opposite. A warning to his big brother, asking him not to harm what was his. 

You should be offended, in all honesty. 

Before you can add anything, the silent conversation is over. Tommy goes to inspect the bookshelf and Joel softly touches your unwounded warm. Taking this as your cue, you lead the way to the first-floor bathroom. One you are sure he is already familiar with. 

He closes the door behind you. The soft click making your cheeks grow warm. There’s two bathrooms in the house in this is the smaller one. The sink is right next to the toilet and that’s followed up by a small shower that no one uses. Across from the toilet is a washing machine. Wanting to make the space a bit homier, you’d thrown over a handmade sown colorful tablecloth made by your grandmother on top of the machine.

Your head spins at the close proximity. You feel Joel right behind you, his body imposing and large. Knowing that the small basket is under the sink, you start to kneel down. Much to your surpirse your movement is stilled by the pressure of Joel’s palm on your stomach. 

“You sit, I’ll take it out. I don’t want you fallin’ over.” 

He sounds rough. Frustrated almost. It’s a surprise to you that he does. You did save his daughter after all, how dramatic sounding that might be. A grunt leaves him as he kneels down. Your heart clenches. It feels like he’s avoiding you and you hate that. You know he did it before in order not to raise suspicion but now you two were alone. Shouldn’t he be talking to you? Touching you? Kissing you? Isn’t that how it works? Your gaze slowly drops to the angry mark on your skin. Blood caked at the corners. It’s weird really. You rarely get wounded. Yet you’re calm. The feeling of pain is like second skin and it makes you uncomfortable. Like a telling of a future that hasn’t been written yet. 

You don’t notice Joel standing with the small first aid basket. He looks down. A moment later rough knuckles brush your warm cheek. You lean into the touch. He smiles. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“A bit,” you lie. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizin’?” Once again he kneels, getting between your thighs. You spread them for him, ignoring the heat settling between your legs. He places the basket on the marble floor and takes your arm to inspect it. 

“I don’t know yet. I feel like whatever is going through your head might be my fault.” 

“Well, it ain’t,” he says calmly and pops the bottle of antiseptic solution. “This might sting a little.” 

It does. But you don’t really mind it. Joel gently cleans the wound, and the angry shade of blood is replaced with a raw visual of skin. He starts unwrapping the gauze. 

“I should be thankin’ you. You pushed Sarah out of the way, I saw.” his voice trembles towards the end, it’s such a subtle change of tone that you almost miss it. He wraps the bandage neatly around your arm, the pain now gone. “She hates it when people fuss over her. Hates it even more when she makes a mistake.” 

You open your mouth to say she didn’t make a mistake, it was just faulty furniture. Joel cuts you off before you can. “I hate to admit, but that might be my fault. She takes care of me too. Some days it feels like we’re more like roommates than actual father and daughter. She had to grow up too fast because of me.” 

You allow the words to sink in. It’s more painful compared to the wound gently simmering under the gauze. His hand moves from your arm to your thigh. He gently squeezes the muscle, yet still refuses to answer your gaze. You can relate to what Sarah has been going through and you’re sure August would too. It’s hard knowing that one of the two that brought you into this world refuses to be with you, take care of you. To deny their love and affection. Your stomach clenches. 

Letting out a soft exhale, your curl your fingers around Joel’s hand. You notice the way his jaw ticks. 

“You’re too hard on yourself. It’s not your fault. You had her when you were young right? You did your best and she turned out great. No matter what, you’re here and her mother is not. I see this, I’m sure Sarah does too. You’re a caring father Joel. Sarah loves you. I know.”

“I don’t want to be let off the hook that easily.” 

“Joel. . . Hey, look at me—” You lower your voice and cup his jaw with your other hand, lifting his face up. He finally allows himself to meet your gaze. You smile. “No one is letting you off the hook. I’m just stating what it is. Ever since I’ve met you I watched you trying to give her the best life that you can. You make time for her. Love her. You have pizza days and bake brownies together. If half of the parents did what you did, therapists would be out of a job.” 

You’re honestly not sure if he’s convinced. But he humors you nonetheless. Joel leans into your touch, his beard rough against the softness of your palm. A shiver settles at the base of your spine. A pleasant tingle. His lips mold over the heel of your hand, a soft purse of his lips following. Your eyes eat up the movement of his lips as it stretches into a warm smile. 

“This is going to sound odd but I ever since I met you, despite the dumb shit I did, I felt lighter. Somehow. I think I now know why.” Another kiss, this time placed upon the center of your palm. A soft moan escapes your lips. “You’re my rock, honey. Thank you.” 

“I can say the same about you,” you grin. “My night in shining armor, rescuing me from evil bookshelves.” 

He hums, “Don’t remind me. I have half the mind to put it through the woodchipper.” 

“Joel Miller, don’t you dare,” both of you laugh, yet there’s still tension lingering and swirling in your body. His thumb moves over the gauze. Up and down. He feels the fabric. “By the way, what was that weird silent moment with Tommy? He doesn’t know, does he?” 

“No—I mean I don’t think so. I didn’t tell him. Did you?” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Just some friendly brotherly tension. It’s normal. And Miller men tend to be a bit possessive.” 

You chuckle, “You say that almost proudly.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he smirks and you feel the tips of your ears burning. “When I say possessive, I don’t mean we’re gonna lock you in a room. We protect our own. That’s good.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes your lips. “Ah yes, I forgot there were ghouls and monsters outside that we, damsels in distress, need protecting from.” 

“Brave words from someone who calls me over when they see a cockroach.” 

You narrow your eyes, “You swore you would never mention it.”

“I wasn’t aware that included you too.”  

You playfully roll your eyes and he brushes his lips over your knuckles. They’re chapped and worn from the painting you’ve been doing of late. The rough surface of the canvas rubbing the skin raw. The small hairs above his upper lip sends shivers up your spine. Without wanting to, you clench your legs, gooseflesh prominent over your skin. The already tiny bathroom feels smaller somehow.  You find yourself leaning into him as his eyes find your own. Soft drops of dark coffee reflecting the stars. His smile reminds you of a full moon. Filling you with gratitude that it’s there during a late night. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes glazing over. “I really wanna kiss you right now.” 

“What’s stopping you?” 

You almost laugh when he actually works his mind for an answer, his hand coming up to scratch his scruffy cheek. The sound deafening in the small space.

It takes him only a second to decide that the answer is absolutely nothing. 

The room was finally finished. 

Despite the hiccups along the way, it was done. Everyone, except for Sarah, celebrated with cold beers and the treats you had made prior to when the Millers had arrived. Sarah, who had a frown similar to her father's, slowly loosened up when you brought out the cinnamon rolls. The focaccia was slightly burnt, but everyone enjoyed it nonetheless. And after an evening of laughter and filling stomachs with delicious food, the Millers left. August prematurely thanked Joel for the ride he would be giving him early in the morning before the older Miller left. The two of you climbed upstairs, argued about who should use the bathroom first, and retired to your rooms.

You had actually planned on looking over the renovated room before bed but your muscles ached and you felt positively exhausted from a day well lived. 

What you don’t expect, however, is for the phone to ring. 

“Hello?” you say into the receiver. “Joel?” 

“Hey sweetheart,” a modulated deep voice follows. “Look out the window.” 

With a smile, you step closer to the window. A soft and gentle light embraces the space of his room. The hue of the light is a delicate fusion of a tender shade of crimson, as if infused with the gentle blush of a lover's kiss, and a mellow, yellowish glow that evokes the subtle warmth of a peaceful summer evening. You notice the firm body that stands in the middle of the window. Shadows dance over his being, half of him buried in a warm darkness. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt that has three buttons, all of them open, exposing more of his sunkissed skin. His gray sweatpants hang low over his hips. He looks soft and comfortable. Reminding you of delicate pastels. 

“So. . .” he clears his throat, his voice awakening something deep in the pit of your full stomach. “Whatcha wearin’?” 

You snicker and shake your head, “Joel. . . You can see me.” 

“Sorry,” you can both see and hear the smile in his voice. “I never know how to start these things.” 

“Did you change the lights?” you ask, ignoring the heat bursting all over your skin. Did he call you for phone sex? You try not to look too hopeful. “It looks nice.”

“Thanks. I have a couple of settings actually, I would have to claw my eyes out if I had to use the actual yellow light all the time.” 

“Careful, Miller. It sounds like you’re trying to build up to something.” 

“What if I am tryin’ to build up to somethin’?” 

God, his voice. It’s so smooth and raspy. Your head spins a bit and you regret that the bed isn’t closer to the window. 

“You look a bit warm, honey,” his voice drips like thick molasses. His tongue slowly rolling over each and every word. As if he can taste it. “Maybe you should. . . take off your shirt.” 

You’re hot and bothered. Slick already gathered between your legs, the fabric of your underwear sticking to your skin. But despite it all—the heat, the sound of his voice, the growing ache between your legs— you let out a loud, unattractive laugh that you subdue quickly with the back of your hand. You hear him let out a low chuckle as well. A sound that makes your legs shake. 

“Are you asking me to strip?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Only if you do the same, handsome.” 

“Alright, I reckon we make this interestin’,” he coos. You can’t see clearly but you like to imagine he has one of his eyebrows raised. “How about we play a little game? Strip for each other, put on a show to see who breaks first?”

“Hmmm, I do like games,” you answer, tapping the plush of your bottom lip with your forefinger. “But it won’t really be fun if there isn’t a reward. . .” 

“Smart girl,” he breathes out slowly. “If I win, I get to play with you however I want. And you have to take it.” before the heat can settle at your lower back, he quickly adds. “Unless what I’m askin’ isn’t to your likin’ of course. I want you to enjoy yourself.” 

“You almost make me want to lose the game, Joel. Very enticing,” you say, your lips breaking out into a cat-like grin. “If I win I want to roleplay.” 

“Roleplay?” he chokes on the word, which only makes your smile broader. “Roleplay as what?” 

“Undecided.” 

You’re relieved when you hear the familiar sound of his laughter. You genuinely have no idea what you would want him to roleplay as, you had just blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. Overexcited with the prospect of the game. When he speaks again, his tone is laced with something dark and heavy. You attempt to indistinctively rub your thighs together. You hope he doesn’t notice how near the edge you are already. 

“Alright, honey. Take off your shirt.” 

With a short nod, you place the phone on the desk briefly to take off your shirt. You hiss as the cold air caresses your pebbled nipples. Already hard and aching. You pick the phone back up. Joel breathes heavily. 

“No bra?” 

“I would never sleep with a bra. Too uncomfortable.” 

“Shiiit,” he groans out, large hand moving down to cup himself through his gray sweatpants. “Squeeze them for me, sweetheart. Play with your nipples.” 

“O-Okay.” 

You underestimated how hot this would be. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you tuck the phone between your shoulder and ear. You gingerly cup both breasts and start to knead them, your thumbs brushing over the peaks. A soft sigh escapes you. You eat up the way Joel is watching you. His eyes glued to your chest, his hand stroking his cock sideways, the outline of his length visible from where you stand. You swallow. 

“Now you,” you mutter. “Do the same.” 

He swiftly takes off his shirt, your eyes instinctively drop to the swell of his stomach. Your hands longing to caress his flushed skin. “Now what?” he asks. 

“Spread your hand over your stomach, really feel the skin under your fingertips,” your ears burn with embarrassment but you can’t help yourself. Your mouth waters. “After that softly drag your nails down your chest.” 

When he complies without hesitation, you grow more comfortable with the situation unfolding in front of you. Joel strokes the soft flush of his stomach, slides his hand up his torso, and then drags his nails down the expanse of his chest. You pinch a nipple. A moan echoes from the back of your throat and you swear you see his hips jerk into the air. 

“Are you hard for me Joel?” you say, lips brushing against the end of the phone. “Tell me how bad you wish I was there.” 

“So bad,” he grunts unintelligently. He drags his nails down again, shuddering when he applies more pressure than before. “I’m hard as a goddamn rock. I wish you could feel it for yourself. I’m a mess under there.” 

“I love messes,” you hum. “Can I touch myself?” 

“Fuck,” he groans and spreads his legs. “Sure, sweetheart. I wanna see you—all of you, bare as the day you were born.” 

You move to do as he says and with the corner of your eye, you notice movement from the other window. You click your tongue and he stills. 

“I didn’t ask you to do the same,” you warn without any real threat behind it. He licks his lips and straightens up. “Stroke yourself through your sweats. I. . .” you clear your throat, your shyness coming back with full force. “Uh. . .” 

“You want me to edge myself?” he adds for you. His tone is softer, more like he’s comforting you rather than trying to seduce you. Kicking your pajama pants and underwear to the side, you meet his gaze. “It’s okay honey. You don’t need to be shy when you tell me what you want. Especially not now.” 

“I guess not, Sorry about that,” a nervous laughter escapes you. You feel the haze of arousal slowly starting to dissipate, making you hyper-aware you’re standing butt-naked in the middle of your bedroom. A chill settles over your skin and you wrap your arms around yourself. You think you see Joel’s frowning. You might have a clear view into his room but detecting facial expressions are always tricky. His sigh vibrates in your ear. 

“If you want to stop we can,” he says trying to be helpful. You shake your head. You don’t want to stop. You really don’t. But it wouldn’t be the first time you make a fool of yourself when asking for something. “Okay then,” he speaks slowly, tenderly. Your heart melts. “You know I really liked that.” 

“Liked, what?” 

“The draggin’ the nails thing. I rarely indulge, I definitely didn’t before. Until I met you. You make me want to take pleasure even in the smallest things—the smallest moments. I want you to feel the same, darlin’. I don’t want you to think you need to hide anythin’ from me.” 

“Really?” 

You hate the way your voice cracks. Hate the way your lips form a shaky smile. You don’t want to be this shy, nervous little thing. It’s hard when even the slightest care from someone—from him—turns you into a puddle of emotions. He continues to speak. You only focus on the tone of the voice, of the feeling in it. He reaches into your chest, takes out something bright. And that brightness warms you both. Joel tells you to touch yourself, to rub that pretty clit of yours, and before you know it, you’re doing exactly that. Pleasure heats up your shivering body. You swallow down your moans as they become louder, puffs of uncontrollable air parting your lips. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels, tell me what to do.” 

“It feels good,” you say between pants. “Would be better if it was your fingers but still it feels very nice,” your knees buckle, a jolt of electricity rushing up and down your spine. “Jerk yourself off but don’t remove the sweatpants.” 

He groans into the phone when he finally wraps his fingers around his aching cock. Joel slightly hunches over, his fist jutting through the fabric every time he strokes himself. You’re only slightly guilty about not telling him to strip entirely. You bet his cock looks delicious; the head dripping with precome. But the hidden aspect of it is far too good to pass up. It’s desperate and raw. Your brain musters up an image of him coming home late, tired, thinking of you. . . his cock half-hard all day. Too lazy to take care of himself in the shower or remove his clothes. It’s an image of pure hunger. Delectable. Your fingers swirl around your throbbing clit, your fingers coated with shiny slick. 

“Shove those fingers inside, press your palm into your clit,” he commands, jaw almost touching his chest. You fumble for a moment, wanting to continue and come. “Now,” he growls and you jump, your walls clenching around nothing. 

When you do as he says you stumble forward. Forehead hitting the glass as your legs begin to shake. You grind your palm into the sensitive bundle of nerves, your fingers deep but not nearly enough to douse the fire between your legs. You breathe heavily through your mouth. Every time your hard nipples graze upon the cold glass you shudder, your moans becoming louder. 

“Fuck,” Joel groans into your ear. You force your eyes to stay glued to him, half-lidded as you watch his stomach clench and unclench over and over. “That’s it, keep your eyes on me, pretty girl. You’re close aren’t you?” 

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, and your breath fogs up the glass. Despite your very being trembling with lust an idea takes shape in your head. “Joel—” you moan, a bit louder, praying to every god and goddess you can think of so August doesn’t hear you. Joel grunts. You notice his hand starting to jerk faster, more sloppily. “I want to see you come, please.” 

“Nice try,” he breathes out a heavy chuckle and you swear you can feel it fanning across your neck. 

Thankfully, you’re a stubborn woman. “Please,” you start to beg, catching him off guard. Your fingers move quickly inside of you. In and out, in and out. The wet sounds echoing in the bedroom. “You look so good, I’m—I’m about to come.” 

“Good,” he huffs, sounding debauched. 

You don’t yield. 

“You want to hear it?” you purr, your walls tightening around your fingers. “Do you want to hear how wet I am for you? How turned on I am by all this?” 

“Y-Yea, sweetheart. Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.” 

You must be possessed. That is clearly the only explanation as to why you’re pulling the phone away from your ear to where your fingers are buried. You fuck yourself deep, biting your bottom lip so hard that you fear it bleeds. You desperately wish you could hear Joel. But all you can do is watch. His lips are part wider, his throat bobbing with every sound that tumbles out of his lips. Your eyes drop to the movement of his hips. He fully grinds himself into his fist, a dark patch growing at the front of his sweats. 

When your legs shake uncontrollably, your own hips jerking to meet the thrusts of your fingers, you place the phone back to your overly heated ear. You open your mouth to speak in hopes to push him over the edge, but you remain silent as you hear a symphony of oh gods echoing from the other line. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, I’m comin’, sweetheart—” he rasps between gritted teeth. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t believe what you do to me. I can’t believe I’m—” he cuts himself off with a moan, his own forehead finding the smooth surface of the glass similar to yours. “I’m gonna cream in my pants like some teenager—” 

“I want to see,” you whisper and pull out your fingers, starting to wetly circle around the tender pearl of your clit. “Please come for me, Joel. You look so good. . .” 

A strangled, choked out sound vibrates in his throat. Momentarily the hand that holds the phone is braced against the window, his hips stuttering into his hand uncontrollably. His voice comes muffled. He thrusts into his fist, once, twice. . . then breathes heavily through his nose, his lips trembling with a swallowed-down whimper. His chest heaves beautifully under the soft red hue, the shadow hallowing out his eyes. 

Slowly, he places the phone back to his ear. His other hand is still hidden underneath his sweatpants. “Your turn, honey,” he breathes. “My sweet girl. My good fuckin’ girl. Come for me. You don’t need to hold yourself back anymore.” 

You fall with the aid of his words spectacularly. 

It’s a rush. A warm feeling that rushes up from your toes and reaches every nerve of your body. You’re completely pressed against the window now, your breasts smushed up against the glass. Somewhere in the background, you hear Joel telling you to be careful, asking you to take a step back. But his voice is so far away and you’re so lost in the daze of your delicious orgasm that his warnings fall on deaf ears. Slick drips down your wrist, the inside of your thighs, drops of clear fluid dripping to the rug underneath. You’re half aware you’re whispering his name, swallowing down your need to scream and feel his body over yours. 

“Thaaaat’s it, gorgeous. Just like that.” 

You grind down further down your fingers before pulling them out. Without much thought you drag them over your body, wet straks glistening under the artificial light. 

“God,” you gasp, your voice hoarse. “Joel that was. . . amazing.” 

“I couldn’t agree more, darlin’. You should lay down. You look like you’re about to collapse.” 

You bat your eyelashes at him, sleep suddenly clutching at your body with exhaustion. “I wish you were with me,” you whisper. “I don’t want to stop looking at you.” 

“I can come over,” he mutters. “Sarah’s asleep.” 

“No, no,” you wave your hand and swallow, your mouth dryer than sandpaper. “We both have an early morning anyway. I’ll just have to suck it up,” you weakly smile, hoping he can see it. Your heart skips a beat when you see him smiling back at you. “Good night.” 

“Good night, sweetheart.” 

The line goes dead and begrudgingly you turn to your bed. Your mind wanders to last night when he was nestled behind you, his warm body curling around your cold one. You let out a sigh. You feel sedated but still, something worrisome lingers in your veins. You’re not sure how this whole thing is supposed to go. You can’t see the end. 

And that bothers you greatly. 

a/n: I for the life of me cannot believe I've written ten chapters of this series. And honestly, I wouldn't have managed it without everyone's support so thank you very much! The "looking through each other's windows and playing the dirty game" was requested by an anon (even tho I slightly altered it for the chapter) and I fell in love with the idea immediately. So a special thanks to them!

as for the roleplaying. . . I am open to suggestions! In fact please send me some because I have no idea lmaofdvf my only thought is making him cosplay as spider man lmaodfv so feel free to raid my askbox with suggestions!

thank you so much for reading, wishing everyone a lovely day xx

[phroyd]

Joe Manchin is shouting in the middle of a job fair. It’s in an exhibition space at a community college in Parkersburg, West Virginia, an industrial town on the Ohio river. He is going booth to booth to booth, making conversation and taking selfies.

Manchin has come to one table that provides office workers to companies on a provisional basis and is convinced that someone he just met is a perfect fit. He starts asking his staffers to find the young man who was looking for an accounting job and direct him over to the booth.

The Democratic senator could have come out of a lab for politicians. The 71-year-old Manchin has salt and pepper hair and just the right amount of twang. He comes across as one of God’s natural retail politicians, treats every voter like a friend. Most return the adoration, although there are a few rolled eyes. High schoolers ask him to come to their football game and grown men excitedly pile next to him to pose for a photograph.

However, less than 24 hours after Christine Blasey Ford testified before the Senate judiciary committee, he kept getting asked about Brett Kavanaugh – the conservative supreme court pick whom Manchin would eventually vote for.

West Virginia was a traditionally Democratic state for generations. However, it has pivoted on a dime. A former bastion of blue-collar New Deal Democrats it has become a Republican stronghold based on issues like guns, abortion and the “war on coal”. Although West Virginia has long been economically populist, it is socially conservative and the coal industry occupies a key place in the state’s psyche.

West Virginia is one of two races – alongside one in Tennessee – that are crucial to the Democrats’ chances of winning back the Senate in next month’s midterm elections. Democrats probably need to win in both West Virginia and Tennessee to have a chance of flipping the slim 51-49 Republican majority in the Senate. Democratic control of the upper chamber would mean that they could block not just legislation but Trump appointees to office, including the courts, as well.

Manchin and Bredesen are both willing to embrace Trump at times and practice a Clintonian brand of politics

Thus Democratic fortunes in the Senate rest on the unlikely shoulders of two septuagenarian white men in states that Donald Trump won overwhelmingly. These two older white men are a world away from the slate of diverse candidates that the Democrats are running across America for the House.

Although much has been made of the so-called “blue wave” that Democrats are counting on in the midterms to win control of the House of Representatives, their task in taking back the Senate is a much stiffer challenge. And in the centre of that challenge are Manchin in West Virginia and Phil Bredesen in Tennessee.

These two candidates differ markedly from the new slate of Democratic candidates who are rushing to embrace progressive causes like Medicare for All, a $15-an-hour minimum wage and flirt with the concept of abolishing Ice (US Immigration and Customs Enforcement). Manchin and Bredesen are from a different school of centrist Democrats. They are also both willing to embrace Trump at times and practice a Clintonian brand of politics where they look at both political parties in Washington and proclaim “a plague upon both your houses”.

Both men supported the confirmation of Kavanaugh to the supreme court – the two most prominent Democrats to do so.

A clear sign of why Manchin eventually backed Kavanaugh was evident in Parkersburg where attendees were invariably coming up to Manchin to urge him to support the embattled nominee – while the West Virginia senator was staying perched precariously on the fence. To one woman, he simply laid out the recent history of judicial nomination fights on Capitol Hill. He said Democratic anger on the issue was rooted in the showdown over Merrick Garland that Republicans “wouldn’t even meet him and that’s what makes ’em mad”. Manchin went on to point to fault on “both sides” and insisted “we want to get everyone back together”.

Speaking to the Guardian afterwards in a public park before a veterans event, Manchin pointed out “there’s still more Democrats than there are anything else in West Virginia. The bottom line is they got upset after it got to the point that the Washington Democrats forgot about the rural Democrats.” Manchin, who is the most conservative Democrat in the Senate, instead tried to emphasize his independence. “I don’t care whether [you’re a Democrat or a Republican] … it’s about West Virginia first and that’s where I’ve always been.”

His Republican opponent, Patrick Morrisey, is almost the antithesis of Manchin. While Manchin is a native West Virginian who grew up as the star high school quarterback, Morrisey is a New Jersey native who worked as staffer and lobbyist on Capitol Hill before moving to the Mountain State and beating a five-term incumbent to become the first Republican state attorney general since before the New Deal.

The Republican regularly branded his opponent as “dishonest Washington liberal” and painted him as a pawn of the Senate Democratic leader, Chuck Schumer. Trump has appeared regularly with Morrisey and the West Virginia Republican could not name one area of disagreement with him.

“I want to emphasize my areas of commonality with the president because the body of his work has been very impressive for the people of West Virginia,” insisted the Republican Senate candidate. “No one is an ideological twin of another person. President Trump has been a strong ally for West Virginia and we’re going to keep emphasizing that.”

The message may not be cutting through in polls. Manchin has maintained a steady lead in West Virginia and has consistently been hitting Morrisey on his past as a pharmaceutical lobbyist, an important issue in a state that has been devastated by the opioid epidemic as well on the Republican’s opposition to Obamacare and the effect that would have on West Virginians with pre-existing conditions.

However, while that message and approach may be working for Manchin in West Virginia, it may not be as successful in Tennessee.

As a fellow centrist Democrat, or blue dog, Bredesen is running a similar race to Manchin. However, although his Republican opponent, Marsha Blackburn, is just as ardent a Trump fan as Morrisey, the state has surprisingly little in common with West Virginia save the Appalachian mountains and a blowout margin for Trump in 2016.

Tennessee is divided into three parts by the swoop of the Tennessee river, which rises in the eastern part of the state, descends into Alabama before emerging to flow northward into the Ohio river in Paducah, Kentucky. The key battlefield is middle Tennessee, the central part of the state penned inside the river.

Centered around Nashville, the region is economically thriving. Nashville is a tourist hub that has attracted Fortune 500 companies and the population of the metro area has doubled since 1990. One of the key figures in this process was Bredesen. First as mayor of Nashville and then as Tennessee’s governor, the 74-year-old played a key role in reviving the city, attracting pro sports teams and reviving Tennessee’s once sleepy capital city.

A wealthy former CEO of a healthcare company and transplant from the north, Bredesen long cut an almost disconcertingly moderate figure in the state.

He has tried to run a campaign that avoids national politics as much as possible. In one television ad, Bredesen looks squarely at the camera and says: “Look, I’m not running against Donald Trump.” Instead, he paints himself as a bipartisan problem solver and deflects any talk of the Democrats taking control of the Senate. “The chances of my party of being in the majority are minuscule,” he said in a debate.

Instead of making it about party labels or national figures, Bredesen has tried to keep things local in a state that has been strongly Republican in recent decades. In an interview with Politico, the former governor said if the race is about, “‘do you want to send a Democrat or Republican to Washington?’ I would lose. If it’s, ‘Do you want to send Phil Bredesen or Marsha Blackburn to Washington?’ I think I can win that.”

In contrast, his opponent Marsha Blackburn, a 16-year-veteran of Capitol Hill, is fully embracing Trump. Blackburn, who uses the masculine title ofcongressman, is a bomb thrower who long irritated many establishment Republicans in Tennessee dating back to her time in the state legislature.

Blackburn, who has been a frequent cable television presence, is a fervent social conservative. She has been an implacable opponent of abortion and even co-sponsored legislation, prompted by conspiracy theories about then President Barack Obama, to force presidential candidates to disclose their birth certificates.

During the campaign, she has consistently echoed Trump’s rhetoric. On television, she slams Bredesen for opposing the Trump travel ban on several predominantly Muslim countries and for his skepticism about the efficacy of a wall on the US-Mexico border.

Blackburn’s hard-right policies even prompted an intervention by Taylor Swift, a Tennessee resident in the race. Swift endorsed Bredesen in an Instagram post and cited the Republican’s record on gay rights and women’s issues in doing so

However, demographic changes in the state and not its pop singers represent her key vulnerability. Her home base, the well-to-do Nashville suburb of Williamson, was one of only four in the state where Hillary Clinton did better than Barack Obama in the general election and was the sole holdout from Trump in the primary, when it went for Marco Rubio.

Although Nashville suburbs are still solidly Republican, that is starting to change ever so modestly and in the long term are trending towards Democrats. This combined with Blackburn’s weak personal poll numbers has given Democrats hope.

Scott Golden, the chair of the Tennessee Republican party told the Guardian, “there are no moderates left in Washington DC … it is a partisan team sport.” He cited the divisive vote over Kavanaugh.

In recent weeks Tennessee voters have seen the race through the same lens. In the aftermath of the Kavanaugh confirmation fight, Blackburn has surged while before the showdown, Bredesen held a narrow lead.

For Republicans, the hope is these highly charged and highly partisan national issues can trump the brands carefully built by both Bredesen and Manchin over decades in public office. The two men both came out in support of Kavanaugh’s nomination, trying to thwart one potential line of attack and cool the partisan enthusiasm of the Trump voters whom they will be relying on in November. The result was that one major Democratic Super Pac, Priorities USA, announced that it would no longer be supporting the two Senate candidates in November. The decision is simply another indication that their politics as moderate, red state Democrats may increasingly be outliers in a party that is moving leftwards.

Many liberal activists have argued that leftwing candidates in diverse states like Andrew Gillum in Florida or Beto O’Rourke in Texas are their party’s future. But for now, in a Senate map that is tilted towards red states, Democrats have no other options but to embrace throwbacks to a moderate past if they have any hopes of regaining the majority.

Phroyd

[tamamatango]

Keroro Gunso 30 Day Challenge Day 8: Underrated Character

Oops, I almost forgot to do one of these today. That’s what I get for staying up until 5 AM playing Kirby Star Allies. I finished the story in one sitting so I could lift my self-imposed YouTube embargo, but then I went and got spoiled on the secret boss anyway before I could get to it...granted it was my own damn fault.

...Anyway, back to Keroro Gunso. While I don’t think there’s anyone that’s necessarily overrated, there’s a ton of characters that are underrated. Starting with honorable mentions: as I’ve mentioned previously, I think Momoka and Saburo are pretty high up there, though there’s a couple of reasons for why I wouldn’t say they’re the most underrated. For the former, although the fanbase doesn’t seem to give her a lot of credit, there is at least a very decent amount of love given to her by the franchise itself, including full-body figurines and quite a few centric episodes. As for the latter, I’d say that he’s highly underrated in the west. Japan, on the other hand, LOVES Saburo. He came in the top 10 most popular characters overall in 4 out of 5 rounds of TVTokyo’s official popularity rankings, beating out every other human character pretty consistently except Natsumi (and Mois who isn’t human but I guess looks enough like one to fit into the category). Granted, these rankings are fairly old as the polls were presumably held as the show was still airing (and I frankly don’t know how polling was conducted because the site is mostly defunct), but the point stands that he was rather well-received elsewhere thanks in large part to Akira Ishida probably.

However, there’s one character that plays a recurring role that is tragically unloved by the fanbase on both sides of the world: Kogoro.

I’m like, genuinely curious as to why y’all hate Kogoro so much. I mean, yes, he can be annoying and kinda weird and get in the way of the plot sometimes. But this is largely a gag anime, damn it. Everyone is a comic relief character. Don’t see the problem with having another one. Besides, there’s plenty of good things about Kogoro! Even though he can mess things up, he always means well and has a heart dedicated to justice. He doesn’t like seeing people upset and goes out of his way to help them (ex. when he encouraged Dororo in that late season 1 episode). He has very good relationships with his sister Lavie and his friend Keroro (even though Keroro becomes something of a rival due to their conflicting goals, they still have a strong friendship). A lot of his episodes are pretty good, too. The one where he tries to study for a test and ends up studying the wrong subject and the one where he adopts that alien sheep Kobayashi stick out to me. Kogoro just does a ton of fun and sometimes touching stuff and I’m always glad to see him. He can be ridiculous, yes, but this is a show where at least one episode was about giant invading toilets. Again, personal opinion and whatnot, nothing against you if you don’t like him, but I just wish he had some fans. He’s doing his best.

...And by the way, Kogoro is definitely based on the protagonist of a particular tokusatsu show. I don’t know how a walking parody of tokusatsu in a show already filled to the brim with clever parodies isn’t awesome.

Tomorrow’s prompt is favorite battle armor. I quite like this prompt; it’s rather unique and makes lots of sense for this show. I have a few picks...

[foursprout-blog]

Hillary: Trump Voters "Didn't Like Black People Getting Rights" or "Women Getting Jobs"

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/hillary-trump-voters-didnt-like-black-people-getting-rights-or-women-getting-jobs/

Hillary: Trump Voters "Didn't Like Black People Getting Rights" or "Women Getting Jobs"

Taking a break from her girls’ trip to India with top aide Huma Abedin and an unknown blonde woman, Hillary Clinton told a Mumbai audience that Americans don’t “deserve” Donald Trump as President, and that Trump voters hate black people, women, and Indian Americans.

“I would have to say, no, we did not deserve that,” said Clinton at the Saturday event, adding “He ran the first reality TV campaign and he was the first reality TV candidate.”  

“If you watch reality TV, you know it means that the person who is the most outrageous, the person who says the politically incorrect things, the person who’s insulting and attacking, drives big ratings,” said the failed presidential candidate. 

Hillary then called Trump voters racists and misogynists: 

…I won the places that represent 2/3 of America’s gross domestic product. So I won the areas that are optimistic, diverse, dynamic, moving forward. And his whole campaign “Make America Great Again,” was looking backwards.

You know, you didn’t like black people getting rights, you don’t like women, you know, getting jobs, you don’t wanna see that Indian American succeeding more than you are. 

Bitter Hillary Clinton suggests to audience in Mumbai, India that voters who supported Trump in 2016 did so because they “didn’t like black people getting rights,” or women getting jobs. pic.twitter.com/bJGkvMhEHS

— Josh Caplan (@joshdcaplan) March 12, 2018

Perhaps Clinton – whose “charitable” foundation paid top executive women $190,000 less than men, and had an average gender pay gap of $81,000 – forgot that black unemployment recently hit at an all time low under President Trump. But hey, all the racist Trump voters are why she lost…

Speaking of excuses, the Daily Mail has created a handy list of all the other reasons Hillary failed to win the White House that’s simply too comprehensive not to share:

JAMES COMEY

Clinton is furious that Comey, then the FBI director, publicly revealed the re-opening of the secret email server investigation just before election day – and has said so time after time after time.

THE FBI  

Comey’s entire organization does not escape her wrath. 

‘The FBI wasn’t the Federal Bureau of Ifs or Innuendoes. Its job was to find out the facts,’ she writes in What Happened.

VLADIMIR PUTIN

‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Putin wanted me to lose and wanted Trump to win,’ she told USA Today in September last year while promoting What Happened. 

It was hardly a new theme. As early as December the New York Times obtained audio in which she told her donors: ‘Putin publicly blamed me for the outpouring of outrage by his own people, and that is the direct line between what he said back then and what he did in this election.’  

THE RUSSIANS

Putin’s entire apparatus gets a name-check. In May she told the Codecon convention how ‘1,000 Russian agents’ had filled Facebook with ‘fake news’.

She told NPR ‘my path toward November was being disrupted with Russians’.

WIKILEAKS 

The ‘transparency website’ is consistently ranked along with Comey by Clinton at the top of her blame list.

She told NPR : ‘Unfortunately the Comey letter, aided to great measure by the Russian WikiLeaks, raised all those doubts again.’

And she writes of its founder Julian Assange in What Happened: ‘In my view, Assange is a hypocrite who deserves to be held accountable for his actions.’

LOW INFORMATION VOTERS

‘You put yourself in the position of a low information voter, and all of a sudden your Facebook feed, your Twitter account is saying, “Oh my gosh, Hillary Clinton is running a child trafficking operation in Washington with John Podesta.”,’ she told the Codecon convention in May.

‘Well you don’t believe it but this has been such an unbelievable election, you kind of go, ‘Oh maybe I better look into that.”

THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE

‘We have an electoral college problem. It’s an anachronism,’ she told Vox. 

ANTI-AMERICAN FORCES

‘I think it’s important that we learn the real lessons from this last campaign because the forces that we are up against are not just interested in influencing our elections and our politics, they’re going after our economy and they’re going after our unity as a nation,’ she told Codecon in May.

‘What is hard for people to really accept – although now after the election there’s greater understanding – is that there are forces in our country – put the Russians to one side – who have been fighting rear guard actions for as long as I’ve been alive because my life coincided with the Civil Rights movement, with the women’s rights movement, with anti-war protesting, with the impeachment.

EVERYONE WHO ASSUMED SHE WOULD WIN

‘I was the victim of a very broad assumption that I was going to win,’ she told the Codecon convention.

BAD POLLING NUMBERS

Clinton says polls in key states did not serve her. 

‘I think polling is going to have to undergo some revisions in how they actually measure people,’ she told the Codecon convention.

‘How they reach people. The best assessments as of right now are that the polling was not that inaccurate, but it was predominantly national polling and I won nationally.’

BARACK OBAMA 

Clinton has two beefs with Obama: one of them being that he won two terms. Clinton says that succeeding an incumbent is almost impossible for a Democrat.

‘No non-incumbent Democrat had run successfully to succeed another two-termer since Vice President Martin Van Buren won in 1836,’ she writes in What Happened.

But she also says his response to the Russian campaign of interference wasn’t enough.

‘I do wonder sometimes about what would have happened if President Obama had made a televised address to the nation in the fall of 2016 warning that our democracy was under attack,’ she writes in What Happened. 

WHITE WOMEN

‘I believe absent Comey, I might’ve picked up 1 or 2 points among white women,’ she told Vox in September.

‘White woman… are really quite politically dependent on their view of their own security and their own position in society what works and doesn’t work for them.’

THE NEW YORK TIMES

The newspaper was blamed as early as May at the Codecon conference in Rancho Palos Verde, California.

She singled out its managing editor Dean Baquet – the paper’s most senior editor – and said of coverage of her email issue under his direction: ‘They covered it like it was Pearl Harbor.’

JOE BIDEN

Biden could have run against her and didn’t. But Clinton writes: ‘Joe Biden said the Democratic Party in 2016 ‘did not talk about what it always stood for—and that was how to maintain a burgeoning middle class.’

‘I find this fairly remarkable, considering that Joe himself campaigned for me all over the Midwest and talked plenty about the middle class.’

BERNIE SANDERS

‘His attacks caused lasting damage, making it harder to unify progressives in the general election and paving the way for Trump’s ‘Crooked Hillary’ campaign,’ she writes in What Happened.

‘I don’t know if that bothered Bernie or not.’

BERNIE BROS 

‘Some of his supporters, the so-called Bernie Bros, took to harassing my supporters online. It got ugly and more than a little sexist,’ she writes in What Happened. 

PEOPLE WANTING CHANGE

‘I thought, at end of day, people would say, look, we do want change, and we want the right kind of change, and we want change that is realistic and is going to make difference in my life and my family’s life and my paycheck,’ she told Vox.

‘That’s what I was offering. And I didn’t in any way want to feed into this, not just radical political argument that was being made on other side, but very negative cultural argument about who we are as Americans.’

MISOGYNISTS

Asked by CNN’s Christine Amanpour at the Women for Women International event in new York in May if misogyny was to blame she said: ‘Yes, I do think it played a role.’  

TELEVISION EXECUTIVES

‘When you have a presidential campaign and the total number of minutes on TV news, which is still how most people get their information, covering all of our policies, climate change, anything else was 32 minutes, I don’t blame voters,’ she told The View.

‘They don’t get a broad base of information to make decision on. The more outrageous you are, the more inflammatory you are, the higher the ratings are.’

NETFLIX

Hillary does not do Netflix and chill – or if she does, she doesn’t find it very relaxing.

‘Eight of the top 10 political documentaries on Netflix were screeds against President Obama and me,’ she claimed at the Codecon convention.

FACEBOOK

‘If you look at Facebook the vast majority of the news items posted were fake. They were connected to as we now know the 1,000 Russian agents who were involved in delivering those messages,’ she told Codecon.

TWITTER

Usually mentioned in the same breath as Facebook, the micro-blogging site is seen by Clinton as one of the reasons for her loss. 

She told the Codecon convention in may that Trump had a method in his tweets.

‘They want to influence your reality. That to me is what we’re up against, and we can’t let that go unanswered,’ she said.

CONTENT FARMS IN MACEDONIA

‘Through content farms, through an enormous investment in falsehoods, fake news, call it what you will – lies, that’s a good word too – the other side was using content that was flat out false,’ she told the Codecon convention in May. 

‘They were conveying this weaponized information and the content of it, and they were running, y’know there’s all these stories, about y’know, and you know I’ve seen them now, and you sit there and it looks like you know sort of low level CNN operation, or a fake newspaper.’

CAMPAIGN FINANCE

‘You had Citizens United come to its full fruition.’ she told Codecon in May.

‘So unaccountable money flowing in against me, against other Democrats, in a way that we hadn’t seen and then attached to this weaponized information war.

THE MEDIA

‘American journalists who eagerly and uncritically repeated whatever WikiLeaks dished out during the campaign could learn from the responsible way the French press handled the hack of Macron,’ she writes in What Happened. 

Now-president Macron had a massive tranche of his emails hacked and released shortly before the French voted. Many outlets did not report on their contents.  

STEVE BANNON AND BREITBART

‘Provided the untrue stories,’ she told the Codecon convention in May. 

THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY 

‘I set up my campaign and we have our own data operation. I get the nomination. So I’m now the nominee of the Democratic Party. I inherit nothing from the Democratic Party,’ Clinton said told the Codecon convention in May.

 ‘I mean, it was bankrupt. It was on the verge of insolvency. Its data was mediocre to poor, nonexistent, wrong. I had to inject money into it.’

THE REPUBLICAN PARTY

The Republicans were far better prepared for a campaign than the Democrats she claimed, when it came to money and data, telling the Codecon convention: ‘So Trump becomes the nominee and he is basically handed this tried and true, effective foundation.’ 

CAMBRIDGE ANALYTICA

The data-targeting firm ultimately owned by Robert Mercer, the billionaire Breitbart backer, and his family, is said to have targeted voters to drive them away from Clinton.

‘They ultimately added something and I think again we’d better understand that. The Mercers did not invest all that money for their own amusement,’ she told the Codecon convention.

WOMEN PROTESTERS

The massive demonstrations in Washington and other cities in the wake of the election were organized as an immediate response to Clinton’s shock defeat.

But that did not stop Clinton from writing in What Happened: ‘I couldn’t help but ask where those feelings of solidarity, outrage and passion had been during the election.’

MATT LAUER

The NBC Today show anchor quizzed both candidates at a ‘commander-in-chief forum’ on board Intrepid in New York. 

But Clinton – who went first in the back-to-back interviews, complained about Lauer focusing on her secret server and whether it raised questions over her trustworthiness.

‘Lauer had turned what should have been a serious discussion into a pointless ambush. What a waste of time,’ she writes in What Happened. She later delighted in his firing for sexual misconduct, saying in December: ‘Every day I believe more in karma.’ 

WHITE VOTERS

‘White voters have been fleeing the Democratic party ever since Lyndon Johnson predicted they would,’ she told Vox.  

DEMOCRATIC DOCUMENTARY MAKERS 

‘We’re not making the documentaries that we’re going to get onto Netflix,’ she told Codecon.

She was asked by the interviewer: ‘This is because Hollywood isn’t liberal enough?’

‘No, it’s because Democrats aren’t putting their money there,’ she replied. 

BENGHAZI INVESTIGATORS

The attacks on the U.S. diplomatic compound in the Libyan city of Benghazi on September 11, 2012, happened when Clinton was Secretary of State. It claimed four American lives, and was the focus of intense investigation by Congress.  

Clinton told the Today show: ‘Take the Benghazi tragedy – you know, I have one of the top Republicans, Kevin McCarthy, admitting we’re going to take that tragedy – because, you know, we’ve lost people, unfortunately, going back to the Reagan administration, if you talk about recent times, in diplomatic attacks.

‘But boy, it was turned into a political football. And it was aimed at undermining my credibility, my record, my accomplishments.’

VOTER SUPPRESSION

Suppressing her voters was named by Clinton as one of the major factors in her defeat in her interview on the Today show when she rattled off her laundry list. ‘What was at work here?’ she said.

‘In addition to the mistakes that I made, which I recount in the book, what about endemic sexism and misogyny, not just in politics but in our society, what about the unprecedented action of the FBI director,  what about the interference of an adversary nation, what about voter suppression?’ 

It was a return to a theme – she suggested it was a problem in Wisconsin in an interview in May with New York magazine.

‘I would have won had I not been subjected to the unprecedented attacks by Comey and the Russians, aided and abetted by the suppression of the vote, particularly in Wisconsin,’ she said. 

‘Republicans learned that if you suppress votes you win.’

MITCH McCONNELL

The Senate majority leader is accused of stopping the Obama administration from revealing what Clinton says the Russians were up to, helping tip the balance against her because he did not want a third successive Democratic term in the White House.  

‘Mitch McConnell, in what I think of as a not only unpatriotic but despicable act of partisan politics, made it clear that if the Obama Administration spoke publicly about what they knew [on Russia], he would accuse them of partisan politics, of trying to tip the balance toward me,’ she told the New Yorker.   

THE SUPREME COURT

Clinton claims the Supreme Court watered down the Voting Rights Act at the Codecon convention.

‘You had effective suppression of votes,’ she said.

‘I was in the senate when we voted 98-0 under a Republican president, George W Bush, to extend the Voting Rights Act and the Supreme Court says ‘oh we don’t need it any more’ , throws it out, and Republican governors and legislatures began doing everything they could to suppress the votes.’

Clinton appears to be referring to Second 4(b) of the Act being ruled unconstitutional by the court in 2013, because it relied on out of date data which meant it was not in line with the 15th Amendment. 

FATHERS, HUSBANDS, BOYFRIENDS, AND MALE BOSSES

Clinton says that James Comey’s actions in re-opening the FBI investigation allowed men to influence their wives or girlfriends.

‘Women will have no empathy for you because they will be under tremendous pressure – and I’m talking principally about white women – they will be under tremendous pressure from fathers, and husbands, and boyfriends and male employers, not to vote for ‘the girl’,’ she told NPR. 

THE INVISIBLE STATE

The newest addition to the list: named by her confidante Lanny Davis as the reason she lost at a reading of his book while Hillary nodded along in approval. 

[walkthroughfox]

/r/Gaming Game of the Year Awards 2017 - Results

/r/Gaming Game of the Year Awards 2017 - Results

Welcome to /r/Gaming's Game of the Year awards!

Disclaimer: Terrible humor below. This is a popularity contest for those who voted, not a super big deal! The best "Other" category is not always the top answer either.

Biggest Letdown of 2017:

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Star Wars: Battlefront 2 5,519 47.3% #2 Mass Effect Andomeda 2,655 22.8% #3 Destiny 2 1,839 15.8%

How do you get everyone to hate a movie franchise that has a large portion of their franchise indebted to games as well? Lock nearly all progression off behind loot crates which can also be purchased. Damnit EA.

"Other" choice award:

still can't buy gf :(

also

you

... thanks

/r/Gaming's biggest controversy

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Star Wars: Battlefront 2 8,484 72.5% #2 Net Neutrality 2,217 18.9% #3 Mass Effect: Andromeda facial animations 361 3.1%

Early on, EA is running away with the most rewards. Probably not the way they wanted to though..

"Other" choice award:

This terrible poll

You're the one taking it!

"Early Access Done Right" Award

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 PlayerUnknown's: Battlegrounds 3,587 34.7% #2 Fornite 3,113 30.2% #3 Divinity: Original Sin II 2,609 25.3%

The 1v1 battle between games that pride themselves in a one against all free-for-all; how oddly poetic. PUBG walks away one shot away from death, with this one by only a few hundred votes.

"Other" choice award:

The Witcher 3

ಠ_ಠ

Best Debut Indie Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Cuphead 7,880 73.5% #2 Hollow Knight 1,765 16.5% #3 Slime Rancher 464 4.3%

While Golf Story and Hollow Knight were some of this year's best indie games, Cuphead walks away with this one in stunning fashion.

"Other" choice award:

Doki Doki Liturature Club

You all really made me aware of the mistake I made in forgetting this title.

Best Independent Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Cuphead 6,079 57.2% #2 Hollow Knight 1,438 13.5% #3 Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice 1,339 12.6%

I mean, I almost didn't ask this or the last question because I just assumed at this point it would win.

"Other" choice award:

Why is there a trout under the TV Adam? Is this some kind of joke? A cry for help? What am I to make of this? What are you doing? Put down that knife. PUT DOWN THAT KNIFE, ADAM!

https://i.imgur.com/LvSxuKQ.jpg

Most Anticipated

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Red Dead Redemption II 4,261 38.1% #2 The Last of Us Part II 2,855 25.5% #3 Monster Hunter: World 1,878 16.8%

Hear me out. 3 protagonists. A Union solider, a Confederate solider, and a Native American. They have to work together to find a ton of gold somewhere. They aren't friends and are constantly at each other's throats. The game ends with a three-way Mexican Standoff where the outcome is determined by the player.

"Other" choice award:

Every game

That's the spirit.

Best Esports Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Overwatch 3,569 33% #2 Rocket League 2,630 24.3% #3 League of Legends 1,687 15.6%

"Other" choice award:

Rainbow Six: Siege

Wouldn't have won outright, but your voice and opinion should definitely be noted. Rainbow Six: Siege is a community favorite and has stuck around a lot longer than most of us probably thought. Kudos to Ubisoft on this one.

Best Multiplayer

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds 4,338 40.3% #2 Fortnite 1,856 17.2% #3 Mario Kart 8 Deluxe 1,499 13.9%

Looks like we've got ourselves some buttery roasted chicken. I might head over to KFC after I'm finished writing this. /r/HailCorporate

"Other" choice award:

The Witcher 3

I've actually seen this voted for in almost every category now, regardless if it even fits. I have a feeling someone went through this entire thing while wearing the Witcher medallion around his neck, "Yessss, my preciuous."

Best Sports/Racing Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Forza Motorspot 7 2,550 29.3% #2 Fifa 18 1,387 16% #3 Project Cars 2 1,213 14%

Even with it's turbulent release, Forza raced to the front of the pack early with the poll position, and held the lead throughout the race.

"Other" choice award:

The Witcher 3

Forgot about the horse racing bits.

Best Strategy Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 XCOM 2: War of the Chosen 3,166 33.2% #2 Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle 2,842 29.8% #3 Total War: Warhammer II 2,035 21.3%

I'm just going to leave my personal feelings on the game (Love the series btw)

http://i.qkme.me/3qykrl.jpg

"Other" choice award:

They are Billions

Steampunk survival RTS. Gotta love it.

Best Family Game The Mario Showdown Award

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Super Mario Odyssey 4,849 46.5% #2 Mario Kart 8 Deluxe 4,129 39.6% #3 N/A N/A %

I debated calling it "The Nintendo Game of the Year", but held back since Splatoon (The third place winner) wasn't really even close. In the race between the world's two favorite Mario games, the winner is.. Nintendo!

"Other" choice award:

Hunniepop

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Best Fighting Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Injustice 2 3,808 40.8% #2 Tekken 7 2,200 23.6% #3 ARMS 1,295 13.9%

Guess it really wasn't an ARMS race, was it? HA. Haha.. Sorry I did that joke such Injustice

"Other" choice award:

the one where the guy hits the other guy

Yeah, me too.

Best Role Playing Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Persona 5 2,163 20.7% #2 Divinity: Original Sin 2 2,142 20.5% #3 South Park: The Fractured But Whole 1,986 19%

We were really spoiled this year weren't we? Not every RPG lover will like all of this, but Persona 5 and Divinity proved to be legendary sequels. Then you could kick back and laugh at fart jokes all day on South Park. A deservedly close race. Even NieR was NieR the top (I'll stop soon, I promise).

"Other" choice award:

Horizon Zero Dawn

While very light on the RPG elements, for the number of votes you folks placed it's worthy of being mentioned. Again, I reiterate, we were spoiled this year.

Best Action/Adventure Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild 4,779 42.9% #2 Horizon Zero Dawn 2,565 23% #3 Super Mario Odyssey 1,294 11.6%

After coming two points away from tying one of it's predecessors for the highest metacritic score of all-time, Breath of the Wild deservedly sits in the number one spot. While Mario also tied Breath of the Wild in terms of meta score, it seems users agree it's their pick of the two.

"Other" choice award:

NieR Automata

From Video Gamer, "NieR: Automata has more creativity and self-awareness in its little finger than most games have for their entire run time. Don’t miss this because it’s sandwiched between other, bigger games."

Best Action Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Cuphead 3,634 34.7% #2 Wolfenstein II 3,124 29.8% #3 Nioh 1,411 13.5%

Our winner was just a Cup-a-head when it came to the vote totals. A slim 500 votes.

"Other" choice award:

Your mother was the best action I got all year.

:(

Best VR/AR Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Resident Evil 7: Biohazard 3,939 43.4% #2 Superhot VR 2,939 32.4% #3 Star Trek: Bridge Crew 1,351 14.9%

Resident Evil 7 was one of the SUPER HOT games of the SUPER HOT. SUPER HOT. SUPERHOT. SUPERHOT. SUPERHOT SUPERHOTSUPERHOTSUPERHOTSUPERHOT.

"Other" choice award:

Skyrim

That's a SUPERHOT thing to say.

Best Handheld Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Metroid: Samus Returns 3,428 40.4% #2 Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadow of Valentia 1,914 22.6% #3 Monster Hunter Stories 1,824 21.5%

Game Informer said it best, "This might be Samus’ first 2D adventure in more than a dozen years, but it’s a great reminder of why we fell in love with the franchise in the first place."

"Other" choice award:

Pokémon Ultra Moon/Sun

Wins with about 20 votes because I'm dumb and forgot to put it in here.. Also, there was the obligatory "Corey in the House".

Best Mobile Game

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Fire Emblem Heroes 2,963 33.4% #2 Super Mario Run 2,726 30.7% #3 Monument Valley 2 1,798 20.3%

Nintendo went all out for mobile this year. Excuse me, Nintendo Game Software.

"Other" choice award:

Skyrim

Soon you'll be able to play it on a refrigerator.

Best Shooter

Rank Game Votes Percentage #1 Playerunknown's Battlegrounds 2,625 24.2% #2 Wolfenstein 2: The New Colossus 2,193 20.2% #3 Fortnite: Battle Royale 1,070 9.9%

You all made the wrong pick. The other moderators forced me to put this in, but everyone knows this game is only played with pans.

"Other" choice award:

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Opens other options, "I swear, if I see one vote for Witche... SON OF A #####!"

MORE IN THE FIRST TOP LEVEL COMMENT

Love game walkthroughs? Bookmark WalkthroughFox.Com as it's about to rain walkthroughs.

[womanonthe111]

Valentina

Valentina moved in on a freezing night in January, clutching a bottle of gin and wearing a pair of silver lorex evening gloves.

1 can’t stay in that place another night…..’ 1’ll go mad…..The night nurse is an old soak….not that I mind that, but he gets wandering hands in the early hours and it’s difficult to tell your boss to piss off , especially when he brings the gin. Anyway how are you? How are the kids? Have you heard from Titty? Titty was Valentina’s pet name for Catherine my sister, who had been Valentina’s school friend since early childhood. Have you got any tonic?

Valentina was twenty six but looked younger. It’s difficult to describe her really; she was more of a personality than a body. I suppose she cultivated it that way.  She was rounded and curved but tall. If she had been smaller she would have looked fat. Her hair was wispy and usually blond, red or jet black. It came out in handfuls when she was going through one of her traumas. It was baby hair really, but there was usually so many bows, strings, clasps and shiny things in it, that you never really noticed the thinness until she mentioned it, which she did five or six times a day. She had a chubby face, which she hid with exotic makeup, that made her look girlish and worldly at the same time.

She dressed magnificently in odd combinations of colours and textures, completely out of fashion but with a wonderful eye for style.

She had trained as a psychiatric nurse in a place up north.  Her parents were both alcoholics and a little mad. Her mother was Irish and her father was Russian. They had anglised the surname to Kay, early on in their married life. Valentina changed it back to Kinjowski, by deed poll at the first opportunity. I think she had gone into psychiatric nursing to try to fathom out her parents, it hadn’t worked though. Her mother used to ring her sometimes and Valentina, if she didn’t hang up right away, would put the phone down on the floor, ignoring it, whilst her mother talked monologues for hours on end.  Her mother never seemed to notice that there was nobody on the other end.

Valentina was an actress in every sense of the word. Every moment was a drama, from being late for work in the mornings, which she always was, to losing her toothbrush every night. My children loved the game of find Valentina’s toothbrush, each one trying to find the noddy brush that was a disappearing magic one. My husband Tom used to think she hid it on purpose, so that they could play the game, but it was simply that she could never find it.

She’d had a few minor roles in the theatres in Manchester but she really wanted to get into films and become a movie star.

She came to stay the weekend with us, but stayed two years off and on. She gave up her day job in the hospital, where she had been working, and got herself a theatre agent. In between bouts of theatre work, she made salads for a tourist restaurant somewhere near the Tower of London.

She moved into the top front bedroom, next to Jeremy, our nanny. I don’t know what happened to Aunty Biddy’s floral curtains, that used to hang in Valentina’s room, but I suspect they probably disappeared  into some evening concoction of hers.  I first realised they had gone, when Franco, who

owned the Italian restaurant across the road, had a man to man with Tom, complaining that his customers were not getting the service that was required. Franco noticed that all of his waiters had suddenly disappeared one night and went to find them. Franco discovered them upstairs in the attic room on top of the restaurant. They were in pitch darkness, watching Valentina getting ready to go out. Tom told Valentina and put some blinds up in her room. She obviously never used them, because according to Tom, the waiters now have a strict rota, Franco included, of time allotted to the attic room.

Valentina drove an untaxed and uninsured Morris Minor convertable that was an awful shade of puce, her favorite colour. She parked it anywhere and everywhere, double yellow lines, no parking signs they meant nothing to her. She tore up tickets in front of traffic wardens with delight. I don’t know what she does now with all the wheel clamps about.

Twelve O'clock one Tuesday, whilst she was doing a few nights at the bin for extra money, she came running into the kitchen hysterical. Someone had stolen the car. Even though she never cleaned it and it was knee deep in in ageing apple cores and empty Marlborough packets, her car was her incubus. It turned out that the police had impounded it, whilst she had been sleeping. The mad painter who lived next door had seen them drive it away. Cars were not allowed on the road in front of the house after nine o'clock in the morning. We had warned her, but she never bothered to move it. I drove her to the police car pound in Islington, leaving Jeremy with the children, even though it was his day off. It was fifty pounds to get the car back and they wouldn’t accept a cheque, only cash.

“Stuff these bastards ” she said. She waited until the man on the gate went inside for a cup of tea and then she crept under the barrier and was lost from all sight in the bowels of the pound. The next thing I saw was the puce Morris Minor screeching down the ramp, through the barrier at the bottom, which someone had conveniently forgotten to close properly.

Valentina went back to the pound later that day, as an irate motorist, demanding her car back. She had left the car in front of a pub, where the men from the pound went for a pint after work. A puce Morris Minor being very identifiable, it was found straight away. We got a telephone call later that night, from a very embarrassed policeman, telling us the car had been found, very near to where it had been stolen. Valentina went back to get it and there was no mention of a fine either. After that Valentina’s car was always left in front of the house, she got handfuls of parking tickets, but the pound people always left her car alone.

A few months after she arrived, I had returned home from work and was breast feeding the baby, listening to her telling me about her latest lover, yet another violinist  from Hampstead.  It was summer and the front door was open. There was a knock on the door and Valentina went to answer it.

“Does a Miss Valentina Kinjowski live here” said an officious sounding voice at the door. “Yes” said Valentine.

This did surprise me. Valentina had got everyone in the house, to swear that they would never tell anyone who came to the door, that she lived there and never sign for any registered letters.  Jeremy

had stopped answering the door, after an embarrassing occasion with a P.C. Williams, Jeremy he had an unfortunate congenital disability, he couldn’t tell lies.

“Is Miss Kinjowski in at present” said the voice that sounded suspiciously like P.C. Williams.

“Miss Kinjowski is at present in the Amazon” said Valentina in  her clipped middle class actress voice, that cowes most people.

“She went there last month…She has gone an expedition to find the lost tribe of the one breasted archers. Her last expedition lasted five years. She is very famous in anthropological circles…Have you read her books? They are very interesting you know”

“Well I don’t know much about expeditions, but l have a bundle of summonses here, that have not been answered ,all to do with parking offences and non payment of fines.” Sure enough he had a good armful of papers in his hands.

“Did Miss Kinjowski leave a forwarding address, Miss er…Miss…”

Ignoring the policeman’s attempt to get her name, she looked up into the air as though  remembering something.

“You could try the nearest post office. Yes, that’s it. Valentina Kinjowski, co the Post Office, The Amazon”

The policeman wrote the address down patiently in his book whilst Valentina rambled on.

“I don’t think she will answer, even if they did get there. She is a very strange woman, doesn’t like opening letters, thinks they are bad luck, bit of a superstition she picked up from some aboriginal tribe, in the Australian outback. I should imagine the postman might find it a bit difficult, delivering letters out there in the jungle. I believe some of them don’t get back. Anyway I am glad to have been of help. She has got houses a II over the place, you know, rich as Croesus, none of her tenants have been able to find her, to pay the rent. Good luck officer…goodbye”

Being dismissed P.C. Williams went down the steps disconsolately, fumbling with his papers. When he reached the dustbins at the gate, he looked around, then lifted the lid off the bins and pushed the papers inside .We never saw him again. Jeremy refused to answer the phone or the door again.

At the end of the summer, Valentina got a job as one of Dracula’s victims, in an American movie, filming in the South of France. I twas a month’s work, all expenses paid in a five star hotel. She was really excited, this was her first big break into films, if you forgot the army careers stuff, she had done for a crackpot company in Soho.

The house was very quiet whilst she was away. I think the children missed her the most. She was the anarchic element in the house that they loved. Life was so unpredictable when she was about, it was more peaceful without her but much less rich.

She came back a week early, having been deported. She had finished the acting work, so it d didn’t really matter that much. The incident happened, as they say, one night in the hotel bar, whilst she was drinking with the crew and some actors. A part of the bar had been cordoned off with velvet tassels and there had been drunken speculation as to why. Suddenly a n entourage arrived. There was a black man in leopard skin with, according to Valentina ,the most sumptuous headgear, complete with animal horns. He was surrounded by black bodyguards, some in traditional dress, but most in western type suits. There were complemented by French security police, swarthy granite faced mafia look a likes. Valentina, generous drunk or sober, wanted to buy the guy in the leopardskin a drink, she fancied the hat. Having failed  to explain her motive to the heavies, she went over, arms outstretched to the leopardskin, to grab him in Valentina hug. Suddenly guns appeared everywhere and Va lentina found herself on the floor, with a rather large French foot on her back. It turned out the leopardedskin  was a visiting head of state, from an unstable African country. What he was doing in the bar I don’t know, because he turned out to be a teetotal muslim.

After questioning, they realised it wasn’t an attempted assassination, but nevertheless she was put on the first plane out of France. The head of state was obviously amused, because Valentina got a headdress  months later only without the animal horns.

My sister Katy got married a month later so the whole family went to the wedding. Katy and Valentina, as I said earlier, were best friends, and Valentina didn’t like the prospective husband. I don’t think anyone did. His sixty two year old mother was there, in a long black wig. She had an imitation snake around her neck and a pair of red fish net tights on. If you don’t believe me look at the wedding pictures. She was the only guest on his side, the other two hundred and forty nine were friends and relatives of Katy’s, even the best man was a friend of my sisters.

My sister had to get married twice, because of my father, who was an old fashioned type of catholic. The future husband had been married before, so we couldn’t have a nuptial mass and my sister wanted a church wedding for my father’s sake. She couldn’t find a church of England vicar trendy enough to marry a divorcee, a catholic one being out of the question, so she settled for an elaborate blessing. Katy got married in a registry office at nine thirty and then she changed into her white regalia complete with veil, in the toilets and ran round the corner to the church for the mock wedding at ten o'clock.

Valentina didn’t go to either of the weddings, which was a bad sign. She stayed in the house getting the champagne ready. By the time we all got back, she had finished half a bottle of gin and was starting on the champagne. Everything went normally until the  best man started h is speech. Nothing could be heard in the room apart from the chink of glasses and best man’s embarrassed droning of some humourless platitudes.

“Why did we let you do it…We shouldn’t have let her do it. Oh my God I am sorry Catherine….l’ve let you down” Va lentina followed her opening with a loud moan. People were beginning to realise what was going on and were sniggering.

“Look at him…have you ever met anyone more boring…The Telegraph …my god…he actually buys the telegraph” She tried to get through the crowd to reach Katy. She came face to face with his mother. “Oh God a snake, think of the children…the poor children…won’t someone do something. Fortunately my father took her by the arm, looking considerably less depressed than he had for weeks, and took her out into the garden where the assembled guests could only hear the occasional groan, much to their annoyance. Valentina a nd my father made a pact to do a novena to Our Lady for Catherine’s sake. Whatever happened it worked, whether it was my father’s prayers or Valentina’s home made doll with the pins in it. Idon’t know, but the newly married couple were separated in a few months.

Va lentina is on a world tour at the moment with some theatre group, funded by the Art’s council. She was supposed to be able to dance and play a musical instrument for the tour but her ignorance of both didn’t deter her. She designed and printed a certificate of dancing from a fictitious school of the performing arts in Yorkshire . The musical director of the tour had the flu on the day of the audition, so the song she sang accompanying the three notes on the guitar, she had learned that week from a friend, who is a folk singer, was passed by a deputy. We get the occasional postcard from exotic places, which I have kept, in case P,C. Williams should ever renew his interest.