#Kevin Heap

[paintermagazine]

‘Pennsylvania 6-5000!’

Artist: Miss Beth Belle (IG)

Photographer: Kevin Heap

[fortheloveofexy]

I've seen a lot of posts in the wake of tsc calling out how the Foxes mistreated Kevin and never really gave him the same degree of compassion and patience that they gave Neil (and like, fair enough, there's definitely a disparity in how the two are treated by the broader team) but I think it's important to remember that it's very likely most of the Foxes didn't know just how bad things in the Nest were, especially when Kevin first came to Palmetto.

Like, they knew he'd been hurt badly, but were they ever told the full extent of the abuse in thr Nest? Probably not, because unlike Jean, Kevin was media trained. It was ingrained habit for him to conceal the true conditions inside the Nest to all outsiders, and that's not a habit he'd have been able to break easily. The only people who knew the full extent of what he'd been through were probably Wymack, Bee and Andrew.

Add to that Kevin's abrasive personality and his tendency towards nitpicking and perfectionism, and it's no wonder that the Foxes' patience with him ran thin after a while.

[gifnebula]

[mor-and-more]

I got 2 skeins of yarn Specifically For Socks and now I have to restrain myself from starting some right away

But also. I've been thinking of knitting one of my Sock Yarn Sweaters starting in the corner of the front, going till I have a little square and then swapping the yarn and doing an L shaped stripe on top of it, and so on, and so on

And another with doing a colourful scales pattern with short rows, I think? I might have it somewhere from the time I encountered a knit-along for a vest/tee using it. And all the better if I can use the minis for it!!! I have 10 :3c

But all wool knitting plans are for later, when the temp is NOT circling +30C

Even if the amount of ideas makes it kinda boring to continue with current knits :(

[bellafragolina]

It’s while you’re playing with dinosaurs on the floor that something comes crashing into your grand fight scene. You boggle a moment, caught off guard by the sleek white train that’s now knocked onto its side thanks to your mighty Tyrantrum. But you pick it up, and glance around the room to see who lost their toy.

All the other children are playing on their own. You can see a gaggle playing house, the father loudly scolding the “dog” for peeing in the house, thus sending the rest of the “family” into heaps of giggles. There are a few reading, buried in blankets and pillows as they smile at their picture books. And then there’s a lone boy, stood over by the corner, away from most everyone.

He stares at you, eyes flickering between your face and the train you hold. His smile is tight and looks painful.

You stand, and stride over to him. The boy jumps, head ducking away from your returned stare, only to jolt once more when you offer him the train back.

“Here!” You chirp, happy to have helped. “Your cool train ran into my Tyrantrum and had a big crash! But I’m super cool and smart, so I was able to fix it!”

Shaky hands take the train from you, and your grin wavers at the sight of the boy slowly turning a deep pink. You grow a little nervous, especially with his silence.

“Um, okay!” You say, false cheeriness lacing your words. “Bye!”

You race back to your own toys, shouting at Kevin when he tries to steal your Aerodactyl.

You don’t talk with the boy again, but whenever you glance his way, you can see him staring at you still. Weird! But you try not to mind it.

▽

You’re outside today, which is always super fun. You get to dig your hands into the dirt, piling it up into castles and towers that your imagination can fill with wizards and royalty to have drama amongst themselves. You’re so lost in your little dirt world that you almost don’t notice the shadow that falls over you.

You do notice, though, and glance up to see that same boy. His smile is still tight, but he’s holding something behind his back, the toe of his foot tracing shapes in the dirt.

“Hi!” You greet. “Whatcha got there?”

The boy flushes, but shows you what he’s holding. A small Venipede squirms around in his grip, barely bigger than his hands, so that means-!

“A baby!” You squeal, shocking the boy as you immediately begin to coo at the bug. “Hello! Hello! You’re so cute!”

The boy wobbles on his feet, but eventually sets the Venipede down for you to pet. The bug chitters and whines, leaning into your dirty palms. It makes you squirm with happiness, and you look up to thank the boy for showing you his find, only to see he’s gone.

“Oh.” You say, a little disappointed. But you don’t stay that way for long, as the boy soon runs up, skidding to a stop before you with his hands behind his back once more. “Oh! Yay! You’re back!”

The boy gives a jerking nod, then shoves his hands forward. You tumble back some, surprised to see the small white flower he clutches. It smells sweet, despite being so small.

“For me?” You ask breathily. The boy nods again, so pink you’re worried he’s given himself a fever. But you take the flower from him, smiling as he curls in on himself, fiddling with his own fingers. “Thank you!”

You plant a kiss to his cheek.

“Now we’re married!” You chirp.

The boy faints.

“Oh no!”

▽

You eye the man in the kitchen, chattering away with his brother as they fight over what’s for dinner. Sometimes you miss how cute and shy he used to be, but at the same time, it’s nice to see him grow into someone confident and happy.

Sighing, you close the book on the Venipede entry, safely encasing the tiny white flower pressed between the pages to be looked at another time.

[insanityclause]

Coming to viewers from the end of time seated upon his throne on Yggdrasil, the God of Mischief is bestowing upon his loyal subjects the most highly-anticipated release of the year: Loki Season 2 on 4K UHD. Today, Marvel Studios announced that fans of the Tom Hiddleston-led Disney+ series can expect to add the critically celebrated follow-up season to their collection on December 3, 2024. There’s plenty to be excited about here as, along with the six-episode season, buyers will also get their hands on a gorgeously crafted SteelBook with exclusive art and collector's cards nestled inside. If content is more your thing, there’s plenty to feast your eyes upon with heaps of bonus features to keep you entertained.

The first season of Loki left audiences on quite a cliffhanger, forcing us to wait more than two full years for the next lineup of episodes to drop. But, boy, were they worth the wait. Season 2 of the beloved series followed Loki and his ragtag group of outcast TVA workers as they tried to find the truth about what was happening within the organization's walls. Solidifying himself as the hero we’ve always known him as, Loki finds his glorious purpose by the time the credits roll on the heartfelt, emotional second season.

‘Loki’ Season 2’s Bonus Features

If you can’t get enough of Loki, the bonus features included in the special release will give you the extra fix you’ve been looking for as you’ll laugh, cry, and cheer right alongside the folks who brought Loki’s story to the small screen. Take a look down Hiddleston’s personal sacred timeline as the featurette, Loki Through Time, digs into the actor’s more than decade of playing the character. No special features list would be complete without a gag reel and with a cast that includes Owen Wilson, the laughs are endless.

There are also a handful of deleted scenes, featuring more of Sylvie’s (Sophia Di Martino) story as a McDonald’s employee and another that sits audiences down with Mobius (Wilson) and Loki as they enjoy a slice of key lime pie. Finally, fans can pull the curtain back on the making of the series as they step onto the set and see how the show was pulled together. Nothing like the magic of Marvel right at your fingertips! Check out the full list of bonus features below:

Loki Through Time — Travel through over a decade of Loki’s timeline with Tom Hiddleston, Kevin Feige and more as they dive deeper into the villainous yet lovable character that fans can’t get enough of in the Loki series.

Gag Reel — Take a look at some of the fun moments on set with the cast an crew of Loki Season 2.

Deleted/Extended Scenes

What Would You Like? — Distraught after the events of season 1, Sylvie leaves the Citidel at the End of Time and finds an escape in a McDonald's in 1982.

Key Lime Break — Loki and Mobius share a moment savoring a key lime pie in the TVA lunchroom.

Roll Call — Loki names off all the people who have spoken ill of him in the past, including a few recognizable names. Mobius tries to comfort him.

Assembled: The Making of Loki Season 2 — Join the cast and crew of Loki Season 2 as they pull back the curtain on Loki’s Iatest MCU adventure.

Take a look at the gorgeous SteelBook artwork above and plan to pick up a copy of Loki Season 2 4K UHD for yourself or the mischievous troublemaker in your life on December 3. Both seasons of Loki are now streaming on Disney+.

[ninyard]

I’m really really curious on how riko saw Kevin from his childhood to “adulthood” and how did he switch to be a kinda normal kid from this, was it when he saw nathan killing someone in front of him that created that sick sort of fascination that he have toward this thing or was it another thing ?

This is such a good ask I love thinking about this!! I always wonder at what point in their relationship did their dynamic change from siblings/friends to competitors/abuser and abused. And I think if we take that Kevin’s mom died when he was that little bit older, it definitely changes how their relationship must’ve been in the beginning.

It makes me wonder how Kayleigh and Tetsuji socialised Kevin and Riko together when they were really young. Did they see each other often? Did they know each other well before Kayleigh died, and Kevin moved in?

Let’s take it that they were as close as siblings, and they might as well have been living together with the amount of time Kevin spent with him in training, or time spent together when Kayleigh went abroad for work and couldn’t take him with her. I think the shift in their relationship wouldn’t have happened until after she died, though, until Riko got the idea in his head that Kevin was his. Not Kayleigh’s, not Tetsuji’s, his.

Riko, more likely than not, probably would’ve displayed signs of being unstable in his childhood. Small things that could’ve been brushed off as boys being boys and kids being kids; he would trip Kevin up and pretend it was an accident, eyes almost dazzling at the blood that dotted his grazed knees. Riko would always take the rough play-fighting too far. He would poke his bruises harder than he should, he would embarrass Kevin in front of other people and make it look like it wasn’t intentional.

I just think of some sort of scenario where Riko takes it that step too far; ten, eleven, maybe, and they’re wrestling, rough housing like they do sometimes. Riko decides he wants to try something, he wants to see how it feels - when Kevin has his back turned to him, he locks an arm around his throat and locks him in an inescapable grip. Kevin’s anxious laugh as he struggles out of the chokehold turns into exasperated pleas to let go, this isn’t funny, I’m going to pass out. He lets him fall in a deoxygenated heap just before he passes out, and it’s a minute until he catches his breath again.

“What is wrong with you?” Kevin pushes Riko back when he takes a step towards him. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t think you were being serious,” he laughs, a lie, gaslighting, downplaying, whatever you want to call it. “I didn’t actually hurt you. You’re being dramatic.”

There’s other things after that, small ways he got pleasure out of hurting Kevin; at the time he didn’t know that that was why he was doing it. Maybe he just thought it was funny. Maybe he thought it was a joke. Bending his fingers too far backwards, almost dislocating his shoulder in an arm wrestle, hitting his racquet where he knows it hurts, where he knows Kevin is unprotected.

I don’t think that Nathan’s victim was the first body either of them had seen. Where or who or what they would’ve seen before that, I don’t know, but I don’t know. Maybe that body they saw with Nathaniel was the moment where Kevin realised something was seriously wrong with Riko; how he didn’t look away, or grimace, how he smiled the whole time. How his pupils widened as he watched a man being cut into pieces.

Maybe that was when he took it to the next level, when he truly stopped being afraid of Kevin bleeding at his hands. He knew how much he liked it, he’d seen it right in front of him, but maybe that’s the catalyst for when he stops holding himself back. Permission, almost. Look at what man can do. Look at what you’re capable of.

[jusst-you-race]

Kmag and Fernando texts?

here you go anon! inspired by the time i snapped my friend's knitting needle and felt incredibly bad about it lmao <3 for the ccc snippet prompts

Fernando I have a confession 

Kevin Is this when you finally tell me you have killed someone?

Fernando Yes 😔

Kevin Wait really?

Fernando I snapped the knitting needle you lend me 

Kevin Fuck Fernando you stressed me out 

That’s fine don’t worry about it 

Fernando It is not fine!

You gave me this needle to care for 

And now I have destroyed it 😔

Kevin I have other ones 

Really it’s fine 

Fernando I will buy you new ones 

As an apology for being so careless 

Kevin You really don’t have to do that 

Fernando But I have betrayed you 

Kevin It’s a knitting needle mate

Fernando It is a symbol of friendship 

Kevin We are still friends 

Fernando Even after I commit such a sin?

Kevin Yeah 

It’s not a big deal 

Fernando You are too good to me 

Thank you for your kindness Kevin

I will still buy you new ones

Kevin Fine if it’ll make you feel better 

Fernando 🙂‍↕️

Kevin How did you snap it anyway?

Fernando Stabbing someone 

Kevin What the fuck?

Fernando I kid I kid 

I was just holding it too tight 

My grip is too tense 

Kevin Ah well it happens to the best of us with needles that small 

Fernando Even you?

Kevin Yeah I’ve snapped heaps of needles

Those wood ones are great until they aren’t 

Fernando This is reassuring 

Do you have another one? 

Just until I buy you new ones 

Kevin Yeah of course 

Come over whenever 

Uh just knock 

Fernando ?

Kevin Nico is with me 

Fernando 😏

Kevin Yeah yeah 

[tameodesza]

the bodyguard

₊˚ʚ Bodyguard!Kevin x Male Escort!Shawn ⁺ॱ˖

₊˚ʚ Summary: Men threw themselves at Shawn all the time, but he felt empty inside. He was an object used to fulfill their needs. And at the end of the day, they went back to their lives, to their loved ones who were unaware of their dirty little secret named Shawn Michaels. AO3

Shawn’s fingers clawed at soft silk sheets. Moans flowed out of his mouth like a broken faucet as he rode his client until they were both seeing stars. Large hands tightened around his waist before the man took over, thrusting into Shawn at a rate that told him he was close.  

“Come on, daddy. Give it to me,” Shawn encouraged, his voice cracking at the end. 

After another hard thrust, Shawn was sent over the edge. He fell over in a heap, his arms no longer able to hold himself up as he came undone. He laid limp as his body continued to be used, come smearing between their stomachs at the force. It wasn’t long before the man went still, holding Shawn in place with a low groan as he spilled into his condom. 

Their hearts pounded in tandem, breaths ragged from exertion. The dewy sheen of their sweaty skin reflected off the flames of cinnamon-scented candles scattered around the fancy hotel room. Shawn took a deep breath, sighing blissfully at the spicy aroma that collided with the heavy smell of sex. It wasn’t typical for Shawn to linger, but this was his final client of the night – Hunter Helmsley. So, he was in no rush. 

Shawn buried his head into Hunter’s neck, wincing as the man pulled out. He shifted to rest on his elbow, a lazy smile on his lips as he watched Hunter tug off the condom and toss it aside. Just as Hunter reached for his clothes, Shawn said, “Come lay with me.” 

It was a command that had Hunter blinking in surprise, but he was quick to settle back in bed with the blond bombshell. “I thought you didn't do pillow talk.” 

Shawn trailed a finger across Hunter’s broad chest with a sly grin. “I make exceptions for my favorites.” 

“Favorites, huh? How many you got?” 

Shawn’s hand traveled slowly up Hunter’s chest, settling on the side of his neck. “You really wanna know?” 

He didn't. Part of the fun for Hunter was pretending that Shawn only had eyes for him. Hunter raised a hand, placing it softly onto Shawn’s cheek. “How much I gotta pay to be your only one?”  

Shawn lifted a brow in interest. He trailed his hand back down Hunter’s chest, swirling a finger teasingly around Hunter’s left nipple. “Depends on how much you think I’m worth, baby.”  

And there goes that charm that made men puddy in Shawn’s hands, the confidence he’d built since his stripping days.  

He was young, too young – freshly turned 18 – when he first hit the pole. It had been out of pure desperation and sheer survival to make some quick money after getting kicked out of his parents’ house. He knew it was coming. His parents had been counting down the days until Shawn would no longer be their concern. He had a troubled youth, and with his strict religious upbringing, he’d been a disappointment to the family one too many times. But no amount of preparation could've prepared him for how hard life would become. 

From hole-in-the-wall strip joints to discreet gentlemen’s clubs, Shawn went wherever the money was. With a pretty face like his, he became a hot commodity. But in just a short few years, he wanted out. Though stripping paid his bills, it was a cut-throat business. His inexperience had been taken advantage of. Promoters were shady. Dancers would smile in his face and stab him in the back. Men became too handsy. He’d been robbed after leaving the club twice – once at gunpoint. It had gotten scary, and it wasn't worth losing his life. 

Everything changed the night Shawn worked at a gentlemen’s club near the richer part of town. He got approached by a high profiler, Ric Flair. Shawn was used to guys hitting on him, but the request the man made was odd – accompany him to some social event as arm candy. Shawn initially brushed him off, but when Ric pulled out a stack of cash, offering him thousands of dollars for his time, that’s when Shawn learned how much his pretty face was worth. 

Ric was a well-connected man, and through him, Shawn was able to meet some of his most elite clients. Doctors, lawyers, top execs – all wealthy men that funded a lifestyle Shawn could only dream of. He played the game. He learned how to swindle men, how to make them feel special, how to make them fall in love with him. He learned how to adapt and become whoever they wanted him to be. 

They all seemed to have their own reasons for his services. Some were on the down low, married, or just looking for a good time with a cute guy. Shawn never cared to ask. He only cared about the money. He was lucky enough to not have to take his clothes off for most of them. But the more money got thrown his way, the blurrier the line between escorting and prostitution became. 

It was through Ric that Shawn met Hunter. Admittedly, Shawn knew more about him than he should – entertainment exec, closeted bisexual, unhappy marriage, hates his wife, staying in it for the kids. But Hunter was one of the sweeter guys Shawn serviced and one of his top spenders. It became the norm for Shawn to receive Rolexes, diamonds, and expensive cologne that Hunter would request Shawn to only wear for him. He spoiled him rotten, so the blond didn’t mind learning the little details of Hunter’s life that would slip into conversation. 

“You’re worth so much more than you know.” Hunter treaded a hand through Shawn’s hair, pulling the blond closer until their foreheads touched. He whispered, “You have no idea how much I want to make you mine.” 

Shawn’s smirk deepened. Men were too easy. “You have no idea how many times I've heard that. But it means so much more coming from you, daddy.”  

“Oh, yeah?” Hunter’s eyes went to Shawn’s lips, shifting closer until they’re just a breath away.  

Before he could move further, Shawn stopped him. “Ah, ah. You know the rules. Lips are off limits.” Except for one man. 

Just then, they heard a firm knock. Shawn’s eyes flitted to the door before looking back at Hunter. “Time’s up. Make sure to tip Diesel on the way out.” 

Hunter let out a deep sigh. He knew the drill by now, but it didn't make leaving any easier. “Sure thing.” He slinked out of bed and grabbed his boxers from the floor. Shawn made himself comfortable, taking in Hunter’s sculpted body one last time as he got dressed. 

After slipping on his shoes, Hunter pulled his wallet from his pocket, leaving a wad of cash on the nightstand. “Same time next week?” 

Shawn eyeballed the cash, noting that Hunter overpaid. “Whatever you want. I’m yours, Mr. Helmsley.” 

Hunter would’ve melted in a puddle had it not been for the persistent knock on the door reminding him to leave. He nearly jumped back when he opened the door to Shawn’s seven-foot- tall bodyguard looming over him like he was ready to pounce. Hunter slipped him a $100 bill as he exited the room, already thinking of another excuse to tell his wife, Stephanie. 

Diesel shut the door behind him, taking off his dark shades to observe the room. Shawn’s laced lingerie lay discarded on the floor near his skimpy robe. Money sat untouched on the nightstand. Candles still burned as sex lingered in the air. A used condom littered the floor. His boss was sprawled out on the bed, looking completely spent. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Shawn gave a slack smile when his eyes met Diesel’s, making grabby hands towards his bodyguard. Diesel rounded the bed to Shawn’s side before sitting next to him. He placed a hand on Shawn’s head, tucking away loose hairs that were stuck to his face.  

“Are you good?” Shawn nodded, humming in content as Diesel lightly scratched his scalp. “Did he treat you well?” After another nod, Diesel said, “Use your words.” 

“Yes, big daddy.” A blush rushed to Diesel’s cheeks despite his stoic expression. Shawn snorted, always getting a kick out of making him squirm. But his laughter died down when he noticed Diesel reaching for the comforter. “You don’t believe me?” 

Diesel didn’t respond and Shawn didn’t fight him when he pulled back the comforter. Diesel went still when he saw the light bruises on Shawn’s hips and thighs.  

Shawn sat up with a sigh, hugging his knees to his chest. “Don’t look like that, big guy. I let him do it. Riding dick ain’t for the faint-hearted.” And when you rode dick as good as him, he couldn’t blame Hunter for wanting to keep a tight grip.  

That put Diesel a little at ease. He had to rough up a few of Shawn’s clients in the past who seemed to not understand the concept of consent.  

Diesel reached out a hand, rubbing at the knee that usually gave Shawn trouble. A slow smile spread onto Shawn’s lips. Diesel’s hands were always more tender than anyone who ever touched him. But his smile wavered when Diesel asked, “How long do you plan to keep doing this? You don’t have to-” 

“Hey. No being captain save-a-hoe.”  

“I’m not. I’m just asking. I mean, you’ve been doing this for a while now. You’ve made good money. You should give yourself a break.” 

Shawn was quiet for a moment. “I already told you – when I save up enough money to buy a ranch and get you a truck.” 

“Shawn-”  

“When all of this is over and I’m retired on my ranch, you deserve to focus on yourself for once. Start that trucking company you always wanted and hit the road.” 

It was a sweet gesture, one that made Diesel appreciate Shawn more than the blond knew. But at the moment, Shawn was his main priority. 

“Shawn, I don’t need a truck. I just need for you to be ok.” 

“I am,” Shawn emphasized. “Seriously. Stop worrying so much. You’ll get wrinkles.” 

That got a small smile from Diesel, which Shawn took as a win. “Unlike you, I don’t get paid for my looks. I’m paid to worry about you, blondie. Do you remember the last time you told me not to worry? You ended the session with your hair ripped out.” 

Shawn exhaled, subconsciously touching the spot where his hair had filled in. “Yeah. Bret was a kinky bastard, wasn’t he?” That was putting it lightly. 

It happened in Shawn’s early escorting days. The days before he knew what his boundaries were. Bret had been one of Shawn’s rougher clients. Shawn assumed he had some internalized homophobia based on their interactions. Their sessions were usually filled with gay slurs and hate sex that bordered on sadism.  

There were many times that Shawn should have walked away. But Bret paid really well. Shawn couldn’t afford not to keep up with his new expensive lifestyle. However, Diesel wasn’t happy to see the mess that Bret always left behind.  

The last straw came when Diesel was forced to stand by and hear Shawn’s muffled cries coming through the hotel door. He couldn’t tell if Shawn was really hurt or if it was part of the act, but Shawn never allowed him to enter until the session was over. When Bret left, Diesel hurried inside to find Shawn curled on the floor in the fetal crying, loose strands of hair surrounding him and his body covered in raised welts. It took hours of comforting Shawn to get him out of the poor headspace he was in.  

Shawn never told him what all happened that night, but it was the catalyst for them to create safe words and signals for Diesel to stop the session if things became too much.  

Shawn reached for Diesel’s hand, saying lightly, “Hunter’s one of the good ones, remember? If something went down, I would tell you. Promise.” 

Diesel looked down at their hands. He gave Shawn’s hand a squeeze, which was returned by the blond. “Did you at least finish this time?” 

Shawn answered as if it was obvious. “I always finish with Hunter. That nose of his isn’t the only thing that’s big on him.” 

“Didn’t need the details.” 

Shawn snickered and playfully tugged at Diesel’s arm. “But Kev-” 

“It’s Diesel,” he corrected.  

“Not to me.”  

There was a pregnant pause as they looked into each other’s softening gazes. Their relationship had been an odd one from the start. They met when Diesel worked security at one of the clubs Shawn stripped at. After Shawn got robbed the second time, Diesel offered to take Shawn home every night. Shawn didn’t have many friends, so he appreciated having someone look after him. When Shawn decided to do escorting full time, Diesel was the only person he trusted to keep him safe. 

They hooked up a few times between then and now, but made sure not to go any further than that. It made escorting much easier when feelings weren’t involved. But it was easier said than done. Shawn was a huge flirt. Diesel was a huge cuddler. Shawn was a good kisser. Diesel was a good fuck. The waters grew murky as they shifted between coworkers, friends with benefits, and something more complicated. 

Diesel glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late. Do you need anything? Water? Snacks?” 

“You.” 

Diesel lifted a brow with a humored breath. “Me? Well, lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.” He was expecting Shawn to laugh as well, but all he received was a faraway look in Shawn’s eyes. 

“Why do you stay?” Diesel tilted his head, the abrupt question catching him off-guard. But Shawn didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Everyone leaves me, Kev. Family. Friends. Clients. But you? After all of these years, you’re still here. Why?” 

The question floated between them, echoing in Diesel’s head as he searched for an answer. In short, Shawn was his boss. Paid him handsomely. Gave him whatever days off he needed. Why would he ever want to leave the job? 

But that was a copout answer.  

It wasn't about the job. They had history. Diesel was one of few people that saw Shawn for more than his body. They got to know each other beyond the surface. He was more than a bodyguard. He was his friend, his protector, his emotional support human. And on lonely nights, his lover. As much as Shawn depended on him, Diesel depended on the blond just the same. Shawn had a hold on him, except this time it wasn’t a strategic ploy to get money or expensive jewelry like with other men. It was an organic connection between them.  

But that answer was deep, too deep for what they were. So, he said what needed to be said without saying too much. “Because I care about you.” Diesel held his gaze with Shawn, letting those words sink in. “I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be, Shawn. And the day you decide to leave this lifestyle, I’ll still be here, protecting you from whatever comes your way.” 

Shawn wasn’t sure what he expected to hear, but that was exactly what he needed to hear. Men threw themselves at him all the time, but he still couldn't help but feel empty inside. He was just an object used to fulfill their needs. And at the end of the day, they went back to their lives, to their loved ones who were unaware of their dirty little secret named Shawn Michaels.  

Sometimes, he just needed to be reminded that he wasn’t alone, that he had more to offer than his body. Fortunately, he had Diesel by his side. 

Shawn nodded with a small smile. “Thank you.” And that was all that needed to be said.  

Diesel took a good look at Shawn and knew his role. “Alright, let’s get you nice and clean. It’s been a long night.” 

Shawn reached out his hands with a pout like a greedy child. “Carry me?” 

Diesel had to hold back his eye roll, but he did as he was told. Shawn giggled gleefully when Diesel scooped him out of bed bridal style. “Oh, how I love a man that takes care of me.” 

That’s how their nights usually ended – Diesel tending to Shawn after a session, cleaning him, dressing him, tucking him in bed, counting the money they made for the day. And sometimes, when it got later in the night, Shawn would give Diesel a soft kiss that grew into something more, a kiss that held a secret that neither would acknowledge in the morning. 

[formula1fanfiction]

Max Verstappen / Esteban ocon

Title: Something deep inside

Pairing: Max Verstappen / Esteban ocon

Characters: Max Verstappen, Esteban ocon, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Prompt: could i ask for max/esteban enemies to lovers with bottom esteban?

A/N: I might make this into a bit of a series with the rest of the grid and see how weird the pairings can be. ;)

Bonding, that's what the fucking FIA had called it. Apparently there is too much animosity between the drivers, too much conflict which is causing problems on the track. They had come up with his brilliant scheme to make two drivers share a room for the night.

Max is a pretty chill guy, he gets along with most of the grid, of course he has had his spats with the others Lewis at Silverstone, George in baku but he wouldn't say he hated them, who he does hate is Esteban Ocon.

So when Max opened up that email and saw he had been assigned none of than Esteban Ocon, he had considered putting his red bull into the wall a high speed, but that really wouldn't be fair on his family.   

"Don't even look at me, let alone speak to me."Max rolls his suitcase into the hotel room, Esteban is laid out on the double bed, his hands behind his head with a scowl on his face. The horrible realisation hits him like a ton of bricks, there is only bed.

"I don't like you, either." Esteban stairs at him like he's just an annoying insect. "The only person worse than you is Pierre." Pierre is a good tactic, he can use him to piss Esteban off. "At least Pierre is a good driver of course, unlike you. I hope the floor is comfortable."

"The floor, what are you talking about?" What an idiot, he's obviously too stupid realise there is only one bed in the room. "The floor, what are you talking about and don't bring Pierre into this." The pure anger is radiating off Esteban. "I got here first, you can take the floor, Max."

"Absolutely not, I have a championship to win, you are a rubbish driver in a rubbish wheel barrow no one will even notice if you're shit." Max unpacks his suitcase, pushes all Esteban's clothes into a crumpled heap just to be petty.

They can't come to compromise regarding the bed. The hotel is offering drinks for the drivers downstairs, so he has two options get blind drunk so he won't care, or get Esteban so drunk he sleeps on the floor, hopefully option two. "Lets go down for drinks, Charles is waiting for me and i'm sure whatever loser tolerates you." Max chuckles, pulling on his jacket and leaving the room without waiting for a response.

He finds Charles with a equally solemn look on his face. "Who did you get, Charles?" Charles is staring at a blonde head, Max follows his gaze until it reaches Kevin, Max chuckles. "At least you didn't get your enemy." Charles can't help but laugh. "Hey, George got Lance and he's pissed off, see if you can switch." Max's very drunk brain thinks this is a good idea, George is weird but anything is better than Esteban.

"Hey, Russell." George jumps and whatever fruity concoction he's drinking spills down his crisp white shirt. "Fuck sake, Max." That really isn't going to help his case. "I heard you got Lance, I know the two of you don't really like each other, we could switch?" Max offers him a very charming smile, but George taking a step back like he's dealing with a rabid dog. "Rules are rules Max, as much as we might not like that." Max resists the urge to call him boring and runs off, drinking an extra five shorts to try and get him through the night.

The shots send him a little whoozy, he finds Esteban at the back of the club ad sits down next to him. "I hate Lance, he wouldn't switch rooms." Esteban informs him, he's also drunk his lips are glistening and look really inviting, what the fuck is happening. "I hate George, boring bastard, he would suck off the rules if they let him." Esteban chuckles, before he even knows what's happening their lips meet, everything is too much of a blur, in their alcohol clogged mind. "I'm taking you back to bed." Max can feel the tightness in his pants, and going back to bed with Esteban seems like a very good idea all of sudden, he allows Esteban to take him by the hand, sparks fly and send tingles up his arms.

He's all over Esteban, he doesn't waste a single second, as soon as Esteban slides down the key card, he pushes the Frenchman back into the room and presses their lips together, it's rough, it's passionate, it's everything. Their lips only break apart to tear away each other's clothing, until they are both naked and needy.

"Let me fuck you, please." Max pants into Esteban's mouth, they are still kissing as they make their way over to the bed. Esteban lets out a small needy moan, as his naked body falls back onto the bed. "Please. It's been so long since i've fucked anyone." Esteban's eyes go wide at this, yes Charles is a top, so what?"

"Please fuck me." Esteban presses a packet of lube, from who knows where into his hand. He doesn't waste any more time and pours the lube onto his fingers, Esteban has already positioned himself on the bed, his legs spread wide, just waiting for Max to touch him.

Max pecks Esteban on the lips, and guides his finger tips to the waiting entrance. Max swallows every whine, and moan from Esteban's mouth, and pushes two fingers inside. Esteban accepts his fingers much easier than Max expected, and prepping the Frenchman doesn't take long. Max rewards Esteban with a few strokes over his sweet spot, and only then does he let his finger tips slip out of Esteban's glistening entrance, he can't wait to be inside of it.

Max's own cock is throbbing and begging for attention. "Are you ready?" Esteban nods and wraps his long legs around Max's waist. "Fuck me, Max." That's all the invitation he needs, he presses the head of his cock against Esteban's lube slick entrance and slowly slides inside, both of them cry out as Max slides through the lube and thrusts himself to the hilt.

Max stalls for a few moments, he knows that he likes a moment to adjust. He waits until Esteban stops clenching down around him, which takes his all his efforts he just wants to fuck into the warm heat. He feels so perfect wrapped around Max, like he was made to be here. "Max please, come on." Max digs his fingers into Esteban's hips and starts to move.

Esteban takes his cock into his hands and strokes himself to the same pace, starting off slow and shallow but becoming harder and deeper with every thrust, all that pent up hate and anger builds up into a rough pace, with Max slamming into Esteban's prostate over and over again.

"It's you, it's always been you." Esteban tells him, Max's fucked out brain can't really comprehend that sentence because at that moment, Esteban loses it, his hips arching up off the bed as he comes hard, making a mess of his own stomach and abs. Esteban tightens ever so beautifully around him, pushing Max into his own orgasm, he cries out as he spills inside of Esteban. He blacks out with the force of it and falls asleep wrapped up in Esteban's arms.

When Max opens his eyes, he realises his cock is still buried inside of someone, and that someone is Esteban. He really enjoyed last night, but it shouldn't have happened and he doesn't know how Esteban feels about it, so he goes with a defensive mechanism instead. "Fuck you Esteban, how dare you take advantage of me because I was drunk." He can hear the pounding of his own heart beat from the guilt.

A look of pure heart break etches on to Esteban's features but quickly disappears. "I was drunk too, you utter arsehole." There are tears in Esteban's eyes, So Esteban must at least like him a little bit.

"Estie..." Max sits down beside him, and runs his hand down Esteban's bareback, he doesn't pull away, so Max continues. "I'm sorry acted this way, I felt something last night and I didn't know if you felt the same way and I panicked." Esteban smiles, it looks genuine.  

"Did you realise you didn't hate me as much as you thought, because that's how I felt." Max chuckles, because yes exactly that. "Yes, I think all this hatred built up into some kind of sexual tension, because I really like you." Max's cock twitches just remembering last night, he really would like to do that again. "So you don't hate me anymore?" Esteban asks with a shy smile and how can Max hate that face. "No, but.."

"Don't think I have forgiven you for crashing into me in Brazil and taking my win away from me." But he says it with a laugh as he dives forward and presses his lips again Esteban's in a soft passionate kiss.

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

Stress Brawl was such a fantastic episode. Really elaborating on Hiromi's character. Hamster and Gretel at the very least is pretty good on building on previously established lore. It's satisfying when a typical joke gets referenced in a new context.

Seeing how Hiromi's reputation as a nice person, and her involvement in several activities actually stresses her out really added a layer of depth to her character. Hiromi was also established to have a more subtle cynical side that was annoyed by people's dependence on her. So it was good to see that expanded upon more as something that she represses.

Hiromi could very easily have been Kevin's "Nice but quirky" love interest but she's more than that and it's good to see. Not that Hiromi was ever that, but as she was quickly established as a character who existed beyond being Kevin's love interest. But seeing her continued development as a full fledged character raises the show's quality all around.

I think Hiromi serves a rather important anchoring role to the story as a well developed character who isn't involved in the superhero stuff or the Grant-Gomez family. She informs a lot of the high school setting and the stuff that goes on there. When it comes to saving the world type shows I find a well developed civilian cast is critical to giving the stakes weight. Her relationships with both Kevin and Fred also helps round out both characters by giving them someone who isn't each other to bounce off of.

Seeing Fred of course simply being Hiromi's friend and trying to support her is good to see. Not to mention how the fallout from her and Kevin's failed date was handled. Kevin has already been established to be a very stressed out person. Just he has a superhero little sister to deal with rather than a heap of extracurriculars. So it's interesting to see how they both had sort of similar reactions to their disaster date. Maybe one day they'll get together and be stressed about stuff together.

But for now Hiromi and Kevin is doomed by their inability to get on the same page. It's not Kevin's fault. It's not his fault he's got a part time job as a superhero coach and that his identity was revealed to an evil villain trying to take over the world thus making it impossible for him to commit to things or be honest about himself. It's not that Kevin didn't do anything wrong per se. Because a fake date was not the way to go. But he didn't have bad intentions. Usually fake dates are terrible because they're done out of an intent to manipulate the other person's feelings. But it was consensual on both members of the fake couple. And Kevin was doing it not to make Hiromi jealous in hopes of getting together with her, but to help them move on from the incident... which wasn't what she actually wanted. But Kevin genuinely had Hiromi's best interests in mind.

I don't think Hiromi is completely blameless in this either. Her refusal to talk to Kevin, instead just letting it go without any sort of catharsis left him unsure on how to actually proceed with their relationship in the way she wanted. But it's not her fault her crush stood her up with an empty explanation. Hiromi showed that she feels underappreciated, and she does deserve to have a boyfriend who actually makes her a priority. How could she know Kevin was literally kidnapped from their date.

But their relationship simply cannot proceed unless Hiromi finds out about Gretel's secret. And honestly, I suspect it's only a matter of time. This show isn't exactly stingy on the reveals. Though, even if the reveal happens, it won't necessarily fix everything. It's very possible Hiromi could still be hurt by Kevin (and Fred!!!) keeping a secret from her despite them being friends (I mean, Bailey knows). But only time will tell with how this plays out I suppose.

[fortheloveofexy]

You have now fully convinced me. Allison wraps Ichirou around her finger and fucks around with what that means for everyone else. He is smitten. She enjoys herself. Allison is iconic and he worships her like the goddess she is. And when Kevin finds out he quite literally faints.

Imagine her showing up to Fox dinners at Abby's with Ichirou in tow 😂 the dramaaaaa

[stabbyfoxandrew]

WIP WEDNESDAY YIPPEEEEEE

can we have some some vampdrew >ᵥ_ᵥ<

WIP Wednesday (7/31) | Vampire Andrew AU (Part 160)

Alright. So he wears brown lenses. Not the weirdest thing in the world. Plenty of people treat their eye color as a fashion statement. But the hair dye Andrew produces from the next pocket definitely adds to Neil’s intrigue. So does the page full of random numbers.

Who the fuck is this man? Andrew’s got more mysteries now than when he started. He discovers another couple pockets full of cash and raises a hand to his head. 

Where the fuck would scrungly little Neil Josten get all this money? He looks like he just crawled out of a trash heap half the time. It doesn’t make any sense at all. Who would’ve given him so much money? Why hasn’t he spent any on decent clothes? Andrew shakes his head. That’s not important.

What’s important is that Neil has dozens of photos of Kevin, a hundred grand in pocket change, and a very good disguise. This is movie assassin type shit. But Andrew can’t see it. Neil wouldn’t hurt Kevin. He’s never tried. He barely even argues with him, even when Kevin is being a bitch-ass diva. Which is most of the time.

[ionlybleedbubbles]

Writing tips deep in my heaps of cringe, that are actually good (imo) :

When writing in third person, don't say what a character cannot do while talking from their perspective. Frame the idea by telling us what they can do, or through the opinion of other characters. For eg. Instead of saying "Mattie was bad at flying planes", say "Mattie preferred cars to planes, and would much rather his brother do the plane-flying." See? Now you've even managed to drop in a nod about his brother. You could also say, "Kevin felt safer when Mattie's brother flew the plane than when Mattie did." Put the blame on Kevin - don't judge Mattie yourself. As a narrator you must pretend to always be on your MCs' side. Ofc, this would vary with different styles of narration, but this is a general rule.

Show how important a character is by how much time you take to talk about them. You would describe your MCs well, and bring up their hobbies and interests. You wouldn't describe a background character as much. You can use this to humanize or dehumanize characters. You may initially talk very little about the main villain yourself, and rely on dialogue among the other characters. This makes the villain feel like a force rather than a person. As the story progresses though, and you decide you want to drop in a *hairflips dramatically* sad back story, you can humanize the villain, and make them more understandable as a person.

Learn from art. Try describing different sceneries or portraits as practice. Also practice writing comic books or manga as stories. Visualizing your story as comic or manga panels can really help you understand pacing and paragraphs. Take note of their vibrance and positioning.

Learn from people's mannerisms and how they are received by other people. For eg, when we ask my dad a question, he pauses to gather his thoughts before speaking. Out of respect, we wait silently during this pause. This shows how confident and charismatic my dad is. A friend of mine only verbally roasts people within our friend group, and apologizes profusely after. This shows she is both empathetic and extremely quick-witted. I could create well rounded characters based on just examples as simple as these.

This tip is what I like to call 'the fake solution' and is employed by many famous authors. For this, you force readers to make assumptions. Maybe about how the magic system works, or about who the villain is. Make it seem like the characters have come to a conclusion and that conclusion is the final solution to conflict. Then tear down those assumptions and create a whole other ending. Similar to the red herring, except this time it's all in the characters' heads and dialogue. Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy is a good example of playing with assumptions forced upon readers by the writer.

In your first chapter, focus on creating potential. You don't have to jump into the heart of the action right away, but you have to make sure your readers understand the potential for this action. For example the opening chapter of Maggie Stiefvater's Raven Boys is relatively low paced, but it leaves you with questions. It makes you wonder who the boy who talked to Blue is, and how Blue will deal with life after such a strange prophecy. This makes you need to continue reading, to find answers.

For good worldbuilding, study at least a little bit of history. Wars and military tricks make for good free prompts. If your world contains vibrant races, make sure you research and incorporate the history and implications of racism, social hierarchy and trade. Understand how this will impact travellers and mercenaries (audiences love those). Make up your own old wives' tales and coping mechanisms.

Understand that the best stories are written around an idea rather than a character. Your protagonist is simply the face of your story. The weather of the world reflects on the protagonist's choices and health. Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games focuses on the dark side of media and politics and how they are used to control a people. Notice that by the third book, Katniss, our protagonist, is doing very little herself, though her few moments are loud and powerful. Katniss could achieve nothing alone. It takes a whole bunch of people to fuel the revolution. Note that it is completely okay to write a character based story, if that's what you like. But there are tons of those. If you really want to make an impact, make an idea-based story.

Respect all your characters equally. You may love some characters more than others, but remember all your characters are representatives of people. Make sure each of them has a voice and a chance to prove themselves.

Use prose to your advantage. Let the length of your sentence define whether the sequence is fast paced or slow. For example, if your want to show surprise, your sentences must be short. Instead of saying "She snatched the last dagger and stared at it, observing each engraving", say " She snatched up the last dagger. Each engraving was sick, gnarled. "

That was a heck of a long post, but that's all from me. Feel free to add your own or contradict anything I've written.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

London Will Burn - A Sean Wallace/OFC Story.

I couldn't wait to share this with you, besties. Here, have the first chapter! I know that Sean is pretty niche as he doesn't seem to have all too huge a fandom, but if I can garner a few readers, and you guys could help me out by reblogging this, I would be very appreciative. Commentary is very welcome, as usual, so yes, dive on in and hopefully enjoy! If you like it enough, you can have chapter two sooner rather than later, too :)

The story begins seven years in the past, but will then run semi-canon to the Gangs of London plot and timeframe.

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,826

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

May 24th, 2016. 

Coffee, the financial times and resounding quiet. These were the defining components needed for Finn Wallace to begin each day within the spatial surroundings of his corner office, the floor to ceiling windows offering the widest view of the city he ruled over with an iron fist.  

“Mr Wallace, please. Sir...”  

The words of Minnie, his secretary, delivered outside of his office with mildly pleading desperation tore his attention from fastidiously studying the FTSE 100, Finn looking out from above the pink sheets of paper. He witnessed her scurrying along, her eyes pleading while trying to match the long strides of his son as he approached. “You know your father doesn’t like to be bothered...” 

...between the hours of eight and nine. He needed a full hour with nothing but a newspaper and a good supply of anything that came from Whittard of Chelsea prior to starting his day. His son had other ideas that morning, though.  

Placing his coffee down, he lifted his chin as Sean strode through the doors, a heap of paperwork within his grasp.  

“One print off of the e-contract signed late last night by Kevin Cavanagh, and one verbal assurance that the vessels may port within his dock space for the original agreed amount.” The paperwork hit the desk so hard, it was almost splashed in coffee, Sean looking thoroughly pleased with himself. As he should, his father thought. Kevin had been extremely tricky in this, his son’s first solo deal for the company. 

Reaching for the contract, Finn could scarcely believe it, but there it was. K. Cavanagh. Signed, sealed and delivered. “How the fuck did you swing that, boyo?” 

Kevin Cavanagh had shown himself to be a rather large thorn in the side of the Wallace empire for weeks, the investor digging his heels in over their proposed deal, an influx of two hundred million sterling into the company’s legitimate holdings to fund the proposed apartment complex they wished to build, and a grant of passage for boats containing large shipments of heroin porting from Pakistan to enter his docks.  

The terms and conditions set by Sean had been made clear, but having the upper hand in it all, Kevin had gone back on their proposed arrangement out of sheer greed. It had not gone down well at all. Especially since Finn considered Kevin to be a long-standing friend as well as a business associate. He wasn’t about to involve himself, though. It was Sean’s deal, and he had to learn in going it alone, friend or not. 

In their world, though, alliance and friendship were subject to change at any given moment. Friendships aside, Sean had been advised by his father to do whatever it took to secure the deal by the required deadline, which had passed at midnight the night before. 

Looking upon his son expectantly, Finn was under no illusion over Sean’s self-satisfied pride in his achievement. His poise did not slip, though. Not even for a second. “I have my ways, all of them effective.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “How?”  

His son smirked, the same bloody smirk he’d had since he was three, back when he’d usually hoodwinked his mother into the offering of a second reach into the biscuit tin. “If you knew that, then you’d know as much as me.” 

Finn felt himself losing patience at his allusivity, but couldn’t quite keep the grin from spreading across his face. “Wiley little shit.”  

He chuckled, checking his watch. “I have a meeting to get to. Lunch at The Strand, 1pm? I have a table booked. See you then.” 

“If I’m late, order my usual.” Looking over the contract once again, Finn rested his chin upon the pinch of his thumb and forefinger. If he’d gotten a result without them having to yield to Kevin, it surely didn’t matter how Sean had procured the deal.  

As time would tell, though, it would.  

Striding from the building, Sean climbed into the waiting car, ready to be whisked across London for a viewing on another apartment complex currently under construction. It would take up most of his morning, but such was the nature of his role within the company. Build big, reap big, remain on top. 

Leaning back against the plush leather upholstery within the black Mercedes, Sean winced, feeling the soreness that remained from his weekend of sexual hedonism. Clawed scratches marking the freckled alabaster of his back from his shoulders right to the rounded muscles of his arse had certainly felt good at the time, but now the scabbed wounds stung and itched.  

That itching sting was experienced internally, too, a rolling wave of cold discomfort washing over his insides once again. Guilt. Maybe even a little remorse. Who’d have thought it? Certainly not him. He had previously considered those emotions to be completely superfluous, with a nature such as his, and most definitely not when his actions had reaped such rewards.  

Sean was, if nothing else, completely ruthless in the pursuit of attainment.  

His go to in attaining a desired result didn’t always equal the exertion of moral turpitude, but in this instance it very much had. There was no going back on it either. He had struck out, used his bargaining chip of blackmail and garnered the desired results. At twenty-five years old, he’d thought himself perhaps above the actions he’d resorted to, considering his bartering and negotiation skills to be proficient enough.  

They hadn’t been.  

However, Sean knew that blackmailing Kevin Cavanagh into agreement by threatening to upload a video to the internet of himself fucking his eighteen-year-old daughter would work like a charm in securing a signature, and it had.  

He’d understandably been beyond livid with him, after receiving an edited version of the hour-long filming, showing just enough for Kevin to know that Catherine would be subjected to great personal embarrassment and emotional anguish if he didn’t comply.  

With his arm figuratively bent up his back, he had agreed, the money immediately transferred, and the contract signed the evening before, once he and his wife had returned from their weekend away. Kevin had also struck a permanent black mark against the son of his old friend, knowing that Finn likely had no part in the blackmail. As chillingly cutthroat as he could be, it wasn’t his style. Words would be had, though, and Sean knew he likely had that coming to him sooner or later.  

Just as he would when Catherine caught up with him. He highly doubted Kevin wouldn’t tell her. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, placing his earbuds in and locating the video he had promised to delete. He’d been hesitant there, not because he intended to nefariously make good on his threat and upload it anyway, he had no cause to. The reason behind his stalling was much more complex, and not one he was in a hurry to admit. Not even to himself.  

Hearing her sweet moans as he watched himself on the screen, face buried between her legs, a jolt ran right through him. He could almost still taste the sweet honey of her cunt on his tongue, feel her skin against his, and with a shift in his seat, experience her nails clawing at his back.  

It was only ever meant to happen once. Once had led to an entire weekend, and there it was again, the unpleasant sting rolling through his guts as he closed his eyes and remembered it. Remembered her.  

Her... her. 

It was only ever meant to happen once... 

St Augustine’s Grammar School for Girls was one of the most exclusive private Catholic schools in the entirety of London. For an eye watering yearly fee, it boasted unsurpassed examination results, a sterling OFSTED record, and much to the fury of the young ladies within its prestigious halls, a strict code for uniform. A black skirt to the knee, high black socks, a white shirt and a navy blazer and tie.  

Even the students attending the adjoining sixth form college had to still adhere, much to their loathing. For Catherine Cavanagh, as soon as she was out of the front gates with her friends, adjustments were made.  

Her neatly pleated skirt was rolled over a few times to hitch it up, her folded over socks pulled up until they came over the knee, her blazer and tie stuffed into her bag and her shirt undone to reveal a little of the black lace bra she wore beneath, as well as being knotted at the waist. She liked to show off some of what she had. 

Lashings of smoky black eyeliner were applied, her lips liberally glossed and her shoulder length blonde waves all shook free of their ponytail prison before she sauntered away, ready for a coffee with her friends, of whom also made similar adjustments to their own uniforms. They were young women at eighteen, all mildly incensed that they still had to stick to the rules of their frigidly stalwart school.  

Catherine, or Rin as she preferred to be called, was far from frigid.  

“Oi darlin’! Fancy gettin’ in the back of me van and lettin’ me give ya one, eh?” 

Ugh. Builders. The worst of the worst for shouting pervy obscenities from the open window of a slowed down Ford Transit. She immediately rolled her eyes. “No thanks, but I fancy giving you this.” Raising her middle finger, her confident smirk grew, her friends cheering on her usual chutzpah.   

“Fuck you, then! Little slag!” 

Rin snorted. “You wish, mate.”  

“I don’t get it,” Rashida, her bestie mused, fiddling with her necklace as she cocked her head. “He wanted to shag you five seconds ago, and now you’re a slag because you didn’t take him up on his offer?” Her face was a picture of bemused disgust as she barked a laugh. “Wanker.” 

“Yeah, sums him up. Right, let’s hit the coffee house. I’m fucking gasping for something strong, hot and foamy.” 

Their friend Carly couldn’t help but pipe up, laughing at her own joke before she’d even spoken it aloud. “What, you want the big fella from Game of Thrones in a bubble bath? What’s his name?” 

“Tormund,” Rin confirmed, her eyes dreamy. “You know I’m weak as fuck for a redhead!”  

While the prospect of Kristofer Hivju, the actor who played the aforementioned character awaiting her in a bubble bath was preferred, it was a double shot cappuccino she needed most at that moment. After a day of hard studying for her ongoing A Levels, Rin needed the coffee like air. For no other reason than to stay awake for the duration of her journey home.  

She wouldn’t be driving, though. Yet to pass her test, she would simply call for a driver in the employment of her father to collect her when she was ready. Being rich certainly had its perks. Entering the coffee shop a ten-minute walk from the school gates, she paid for her order and stood back to wait, sensing someone behind her before a familiar voice spoke into her ear. 

“I am unsure whether your mother would approve of that skirt, young lady.”  

Turning, her eyes widened. “Bloody hell! Hello!” It had been at least five years since she’d seen Sean Wallace other than fleeting moments in passing, the last proper time being when he was home from university in his final year. The occasion had been when her parents had thrown a garden party for her father’s friends and closest business associates, plus their families.  

“How are you, darling?” He drawled smoothly, kissing her cheek as they exchanged a brief hug. “It’s been a bloody age.” Looking down upon her, his gaze was nothing but clearly appreciative, thinking just what a beautiful young woman she’d become. In fact, beautiful was an understatement; she was an absolute knock out.  

In any other circumstance, Catherine Cavanagh would be his perfect match. She came from a similar family, steeped in criminality and staggeringly wealthy, with the best education money could buy, just as he himself had received. They were cut from the exact same cloth, she and Sean. This was not an exercise in procuring the perfect match long-term, though. Far from it.  

“It has, I was just thinking that myself,” she confirmed as they parted, feeling a little flustered. Oh, how she’d always fancied the arse off Sean. She might have been extremely confident for an elder teen, much more woman than girl in that respect, but still. Sean was the bloody holy grail as far as she was concerned. “As for me, up to my eyes in all things A Levels, only two more exams left and then its fingers crossed I do well enough to take the provisional place I’ve been offered at LSE.” 

He remembered that the London School of Economics had been her long-term goal from the last time he’d spoken to her at length, back when she was just a kid of thirteen. “I remember you telling me, yes. Forgive me, but I forget just what it is you were aiming for?” 

A flutter delighted her insides at that, how he hadn’t forgotten her desires to attend LSE when it had been so long since they’d last talked in depth. She’d thought he’d merely been entertaining her thirteen-year-old self and her long-winded plans for her future, but no. He’d actually listened. Then again, he was always very attentive when engaging with someone, no matter who they were. “BSc in mathematics, statistics and business.”  

“I bet your father is very proud,” he commented, Rin turning to pick up her coffee.  

“Well, I suppose he will be if I actually pull it off and attain the necessary grades. It’ll stand me in good stead for taking over the family business too, when he eventually retires.” They were birds of a feather in that respect, both primed to one day sit at the helm of their respective family empires. “Speaking of which, how are things with you? You’re doing very well at the Wallace Corporation, according to dad.” 

“Your father is correct, I am.” He was still very sure of himself. Anyone else would call it arrogance, but Sean was merely infectiously confident. He knew what he wanted, and he went right after it, Rin completely oblivious to the fact that his cool blue eyes were directly focused upon his present target. “Long hours and probably less pay than I should be garnering, but I must confess to be doing rather well for myself. Especially considering I have only been there just over four years.” 

They eventually became so lost in their catch-up chatter that Rin completely failed to realise that her friends had moved to a table, turning to see them wave at her. The looks on their faces spoke volumes. 

“I’ll be there in a sec,” she assured them, praying Carly didn’t open her mouth. No such luck. 

“No, no,” the girl herself chirped right on cue, waving her hands gently in Rin’s direction. “You stay there with your fancy man; we’ll be over here when you’re ready!” 

“Oh, shit off!” she chided, feeling her cheeks burn. Turning to Sean, she shook her head. “They’re embarrassing as fuck.” 

“I can’t say I’m embarrassed, being labelled as your fancy man.” Pulling out a seat, he gestured to it with a flirtatious smile, ensuring her heart virtually catapulted against her ribcage. She definitely blushed furiously at that. Ahh, it was almost too easy, but then again Sean’s charm was legendarily flawless. Being well spoken, powerful, and as dangerous as he was gorgeous didn’t hurt either.  

A red-haired bad boy in a Balmain suit. If Rin had a type at all in this world, it was Sean Wallace. And boy, how the man himself saw that loud and clear.  

“So, I hear your parents are away in France right now?” 

“Yes,” Rin confirmed, the smidgen of envy in her voice clear. How she would have loved a long weekend in the French Alps skiing, too. “They’ll be hurtling down a mountain right now, while I’m stuck here in dreary London, slogging my guts out all in the name of revision.” 

He smirked, picking up his espresso and sipping it. Sean liked his coffee one way; strong and black. “Ah, but you do get Mulford Hall all to yourself for the weekend. Quite the party palace, one would assume.” 

She crinkled her nose, shaking her head. “The staff will grass me up if I even so much as open a can of cider with more than four friends in attendance. Mother dearest likes to keep her fucking tabs on me.” Rin didn’t dislike her mother, but it was no secret that she was daddy’s girl through and through. If he had his way, he’d have arranged for the antiques to be removed from banquet hall and allowed she and her friends run wild. Diane was not quite so lenient.  

Yes. A banquet hall. The Cavanagh’s were truly that wealthy, to have such in their fifteen-bedroom, eighteen-bathroom, sprawling abode located in Westminster, just around the corner from Hyde Park. Half of their sprawling gardens backed onto the park itself, in fact.  

Mostly, Mulford Hall was used as a successful wedding and events venue, half of the house sectioned off as a private family residence and inaccessible to the public, also being a historical location of interest for tourists. It had been in her family for centuries, gifted to one of her ancestors, the very first Lord Mulford by King Charles I. Now with no elder male heir and her grandparents having passed on, it remained in the family by the residing Lady Mulford, her mother. 

“I suppose the little ones would have plenty to say, even if the staff did keep schtum.” Oh yes, Sean was correct there. Her younger brother and sisters would likely relish in telling on her to their parents. Keeping secrets that did not directly benefit them was not in the interests of your average twelve, ten and nine year old children. “I mean, if they could even hear the sounds of partying. Does your mother not keep them in a turret or similar?” 

She snorted laughing into her coffee, spraying a fine mist of foam from the large cup, “Shut up, you shit. You know we’re not that grand.” Suddenly, she felt the cold wave of discomfort when he frowned, wondering if she’d pushed it a little in calling him a shit, even in tease. After all, they did not know each other beyond the boundaries of acquaintance. It was their parents who were friends, not them.  

He then reached, wiping a fleck of foam from her cheek, the corners of his mouth upturning as he watched her blush, leaning across the table. “It takes a brave person to refer to me as a shit.” 

Regaining her confidence, she licked her top lip, shrugging lightly. “Or a gobby little twat such as myself.” 

She was a pistol. He enjoyed that perhaps more than he should have. He laughed softly through his nose, sipping his coffee again as she continued. “I actually have the place to myself, staff aside. The nanny has taken the little terrors to Legoland for the weekend, and there aren’t any weddings on, so I’m enjoying pottering around the old pile in my pants.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Just your pants?” 

“I like to give the gardeners something nice to look at.” 

God, and how nice her body was, he wagered, his eyes sweeping her momentarily. “I bet you do.”  

Lust. Lust delivered from behind full, long auburn lashes tinged with gold, eyes that burned like cool fire as he stared her dead in the eye, Rin feeling as if she was caught in a searchlight she could not avoid. Not that she’d want to. Being illuminated by the desire of Sean Wallace was something she’d only ever fantasised about as a girl. As a young woman, acting upon it now seemed within her grasp. 

And grasp for it she would. “You’re thinking about me in nothing but my pants, aren’t you?”  

Playful, yet direct. He liked that, liked that she was so easily wandering right into the jaws of his trap with such little effort. “I am.”  

She leaned closer, watching him retrieve a packet of mints from his pocket, placing one into his mouth. The way he so effortlessly pressed the white disc onto his tongue made her shiver, imagining the skill a mouth that clever and effortlessly cool might possess. He offered the packet, but she shook her head, the strongness of Trebor’s finest too much for her delicate tastebuds. “What else are you thinking?” 

He mirrored her, leaning near, eyes fixed unblinkingly as he ran his fingertip in a circle over the back of her hand. It was an action that made every single hair upon her arm stand on end. “I’m thinking that the next thing I want on my tongue is you.”  

Fireworks exploded in her chest and gut, a fizz of excitement glittering. Unexpected afternoon sex; it was a proposal most definitely to her liking. “Where’s closer, mine or yours?” 

“Mine,” he confirmed, rising from his seat as he pulled out his phone. “Westminster is a fucking ball ache of a drive at this time in the day.”  

He wasn’t wrong. While Sean called his driver, giving him the name of the coffee shop, Rin made a phone motion to her friends while mouthing ‘I’ll call later’, Rashida and Carly looking as alert as two meerkats keeping the watch at seeing their friend leave with the handsome young mystery man.  

Rashida couldn’t help the joke she made. It was too uncanny. “Little slag.” 

“Love you too, you knob.” Leaving to the sound of her friend's laughter, Rin joined Sean at the side of the curb, only waiting a few moments for the sleek, black Mercedes to pull up before them. He opened the door for her, Rin sliding in and moving across so he didn’t have to walk around, Sean climbing in and shutting the door with a soft clunk.  

“Home please, Tony.” he spoke to the driver, his eyes remaining ahead. She turned slightly to view him, feeling somewhat uneasy when he didn’t return her glance. Dropping her gaze, her thoughts began to race a little, jumping slightly when after a few moments, she felt his hand press to her thigh.  

It was a plan of effortless execution, Sean tracking her movements from afar for a few days prior, learning her daily routine. It truly had been as simple as turning up at her regular coffee shop prior to her usual time of arrival, turning on the charm and reaping the rewards. Leaning close, his beard tickled her earlobe, sending a thrill right through her. “I can’t wait to put my mouth between these fantastic legs of yours.”  

Neither could she.

[louisisalarrie]

1000 fans theory? tell me more?

hellooooo lovely. of course! welcome to the show!

The 1000 Fans Theory was an essay written by Kevin Kelly, who was (still is? Idk) an influential entertainment and media journalist in 2008. It’s been both widely celebrated, and debated, over the years, and while it’s still referred to these days, it’s not as solid as it once was due to the way creators of the entertainment industry (including influencers) use social platforms and communicate with fans, the awful economy, and the development of so many more media channels now involved in marketing. The artist-to-fan relationship these days is more important than ever, but so much harder to facilitate and uphold due to the influx and oversaturation of media, and people’s attention spans. So I use it loosely sometimes, but let’s dig in to the bulk of it.

This theory, in short, was somewhat initially proposed as an alternative path than trying to just aim for stardom.

The main takeaways from it are:

- the internet is extremely valuable for artists to cultivate and uphold the longevity of their direct artist to fan relationship

- a “true fan”, I guess what we’d call “stans” these days, is someone who will spend approx $100 a year (a bit over $8 per month) on your content/merch/music/art whatever it may be. 1,000 of those? You’re making $100,000 a year.

- however, this is premised on developing a direct relationship, so no middle men taking cuts (managers, publishers, etc.), which was proposed as we now have the internet to cut out a lot of those middlemen (which, again, over time, people have found a way to make money and become said middlemen)

Now, this theory was roughly reliant and in response to the Long Tail Theory, which is a business/marketing/strategy theory that doesn’t really hold up anymore, because of the powerful players in the industry adjusting algorithms and shoving the same big artists in our face over and over again. So it means that people aren’t connecting and finding artists in the way that they once were, because of “songs that you may like” or Twitter recommendations or sponsored ads or whatever, getting in the way. It’s harder to be a niche artist and gain the 1000 true fans or any fans at all, these days.

So, the direct fan to artist relationship is now so much different to what it was back in 2008. And there are heaps of middlemen in play. And everything is so expensive. And even if you were just getting $100,000 a year directly from fans, you would still be paying a heap of overheads running your own business/career.

Anyway

I refer to this theory mainly because it is so much more of a surefire way to have a long-standing and solid career, rather than jump in the deep end and try and spread yourself so thin to reach as many people as possible, that you actually miss out on True Fans and only receive casual fans. It’s the reliance on the algorithm, as opposed to the loyalty of your actual fans and fostering a community. And look… it works for some people. But oftentimes, these folks can end up as one hit wonders or have their career fizzle out hard and fast because they can’t rely on True Fans to buy everything they put out and engage with their posts. They’re seen as fake/money hungry/celebrities who don’t care about their fans. It’s just a different experience.

This theory is old, and works far better in relation to smaller artists when building a platform, and doesn’t super duper relate exactly to louis’ career by any means, but I will say that the dedication and fan loyalty that he has, in comparison to artists that have a more casual fanbase/not as many True Fans, will concrete his career and he wont fall. We won’t let him fall.

You can read the essay online, and also debates against it/updates to the world we live in now, and yeah, it doesn’t hold up as well anymore. But the point stands that if you have a dedicated amount of True Fans who will buy everything you put out, go to shows when you’re in town, engage with your content etc., you are way less likely to burn out hard. And he has our loyalty because of the artist-to-fan relationship we have. It’s not about quantity, it’s about quality. Having 1,000 fans who buy everything and go to your shows, over having 10,000 followers who barely engage with you, is a massive difference to a successful career, and is much to be said for the debates about louis’ streaming/follower numbers.

It may seem like common sense, but definitely is an interesting read when you deep dive into the essay. Anyway, that’s that!