#MATTHEW DESIGNED HAT PLEASE

[ratatatastic]

yeah if youd like to know hes got our whole team including our merch team whipped for him

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Some things I’ve noticed on my second viewing of “Five Nights at Freddy’s” (2023)

(Some of these are obvious, don’t @ me, I’m autistic and I had work the day I first watched the film so my brain was all over the place)

Once again, SPOILERS ARE UNDER THE CUT, PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU ARE AVOIDING SPOILERS!!!!

On my first viewing I thought that showing the security guard at the very start loosening the bolts of the chair straps was a fake out to make us believe he’d escape, but actually he loosened the bolts which is how Mike was able to escape later on

Just want to say that the opening credits are fucking cool and I love them so much

In my previous post about things in the FNAF movie, I incorrectly said there was no Golden Freddy - Golden Freddy is in fact in the film, he’s the one who goes to the house/kills Aunt Jane/is in the taxi

Following on from the above point, I said last time that I thought the cupcake was the fifth ghost child but I actually think it’s Golden Freddy to be honest - the blonde girl was obviously Chica, the boy with the bunny ears was Bonnie, the ginger boy was Foxy, and then there was the blonde boy and another boy with a top hat on. I originally thought that the blonde boy who wore the brown shirt was Freddy because he seemed like the leader, but now I’m wondering if the boy with the top hat was Freddy and the leader boy was in fact Golden Freddy (given his blonde hair)? I’m interested to hear what everyone else thinks

This is obvious but the doctor foreshadowed the ending because she told Mike that drawings are powerful tools for children to express things and understand things, and that’s exactly how Abby communicated to the gang at the end that Afton was responsible for their deaths

^side note but as an early years practitioner at a nursery/for preschool children, it’s actually true that pictures are used to help children learn things even before they can read, write or talk. I don’t know, it just interested me to be like “oh yeah that’s true!!”

There was not that much focus on Mike’s dad, like he was seen so briefly compared to his mom, which makes me wonder if there’s something to it that might be revealed in a future film. Like maybe his “dad” isn’t his dad or something? Because in the game canon, William is his father, so… I don’t know. I also saw someone else point out that in the training video Mike watched, there was a man working on the animatronics who maybe looked like the actor playing Mike’s dad, so maybe his dad worked there with the animatronics?

The film appears to be set in 2000; I’m 90% sure the security cam of Mike in the careers office showed the date as being in 2000, but if someone else can clarify or confirm the exact date then that would be great. It would make sense though because Garret presumably went missing around the same time as the ghost kids (in the 80s), so the film being set in the present day (meaning Mike would be in his 50s) would make zero sense. Also the mobile phones/computers all seem like they come from the early 2000s

Someone on Twitter pointed out that one of Abby’s drawings on her wall appeared to be a red airplane, which could just be an indication/foreshadowing of her knowledge of Garret’s disappearance (his toy airplane) but also someone else said it could have been 9/11 which….?!?! If this film is set in 2000, then that’s FUCKED

(I think it’s either a random drawing or to do with Garret’s toy tbh but the idea of her having foresight of 9/11 is fucking horrifying)

I’m still not totally sure which animatronic the gang were going to force Abby into, like it’s one with spring locks and at first I thought it might be Circus Baby but it doesn’t really look like her. It looks almost like a marionette or something? And I mean, yeah, it could be that they changed the design a bit but they literally stayed faithful to the designs of all the animatronics in the series so… you know.

Desperate to know if Matthew Lillard is aware of the fact that his DILF status has been multiplied by one hundred after this film like can someone check in on him and see if he’s alright? 💀 the FNAF girlies fans are frankly RABID about Afton

On that note, I wonder if Josh Hutcherson or Matthew Lillard have ever played any FNAF games, like were they fans before being cast or…? I really wish we could have content of them talking about the film or promoting it, but Hollywood refuses to pay their actors fairly so 🤷‍♀️

Listen, I ADORE both Josh and Matthew anyway but in this film I feel like Matthew especially stood out??? Maybe it’s just the character he’s playing but he ATE this role up (so did Josh but still)

I feel like the springlock scene was actually more terrifying upon a second viewing like at my first one I was like “that’s not as bad as I imagined” but this time I was like “holy shit he’s in agony” like his screams were PAINFUL to listen to

Speaking of painful to listen to, Freddy gave this really guttural and pained roar/scream at one point during the ending and it really made my heart hurt, it’s like the child inside of him was reliving the memory of their murder or something??? I can’t describe it but it was such an intense moment

I honest to god feel like I enjoyed it more on a second viewing and I don’t know why??? Maybe it’s just because the other people in my cinema weren’t laughing every five minutes but still.

I now have the urge to rewatch ALL of Markiplier’s playthroughs of ALL the FNAF games so… yep!

Once again begging for people to talk about FNAF because I’m not the most knowledgable on the series but I do enjoy it!

[twoidiotwriters1]

Until The Very End -(WITS Sequel)

A/N: None of you bitches told me today was the 26th how am I supposed to know I have to post a new chapter Anyway, HAPPY 1000TH POST!! -Danny

Words: 2,301

Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next chapter Listen to: 'Photograph' -by Cody Fry

2006

When Rose Granger-Weasley was born, they discovered Ron was the overprotective father of the whole lot. Not even Erick had acted that way with his babies. Hermione found it exasperating, but to Ron, that little girl was his firstborn, and nothing was going to stop him from keeping her safe.

If they were packed with children before, now it was definitely overwhelming. Fred had a good reason to be losing his mind over it, there was always a baby or a toddler he had to be mindful not to step on or sit on accident.

Regulus, who was the eldest child, hadn't changed much after his talk with Mel. He was a kid still, so she wasn't expecting him to change his behaviour, he was too young to grasp it all. However, he seemed a little bit uneasy about attending Hogwarts now.

Emily Flint, on the other hand, couldn't wait to go. She was determined to be as good as her father to the point of claiming she'd be a Headgirl too. She wanted to be in Slytherin like him, but Erick had advised her not to force herself into a house where she might not belong.

"You should let the hat do its work, love," He'd told her. "If you talk too soon, you'll be trapped in a house where you're not comfortable."

"Listen to your father, he should know," Mel teased him. "He became my friend out of boredom and before he knew it he was dragged into our mess."

"Yeah, worst decision of my life," he mused, kissing the top of his son's head, who was sound asleep in his arms.

Matthew John Potter was born on January twelve, also known as Erick's birthday. Naturally, Mel and Harry asked him to be the godfather.

Erick was more than pleased, he was ready to take the boy under his wing and guide him through life. What that meant, no one knew, but Mel trusted he'd do a good job anyway.

Amy Flint was born in February of the same year, the fifth—and last of their babies, according to Anne and Erick.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Fred and Joseph decided to get married. It wasn't that they weren't expecting them to last, they'd been dating for almost a decade, but since they lived together and didn't seem to have any interest in getting married, it wasn't exactly anticipated.

Fred's wedding, in spite of what he'd promised when they were younger, was as elegant as any other, if not more. Joseph was firm on having the best of the best in every aspect, and Fred let him do his thing since he wasn't an expert at weddings.

"If it were for me, we'd just hire some bloke to marry us in our apartment and that'd be it, but Jo finds that, er, what did you call it, love? I just know it was a bad French insult to my person," he teased.

"You won't ruin my day, Weasley," Joseph replied unbothered. "I've been dreaming of this since our first year together."

"Wow, that's faith," Mel grinned.

"Oh, don't say that like you didn't dream about getting married to Glasses since you were a kid!" George exclaimed. "You probably talk to Harry once and you started to design the cake."

"She wanted me to be her best man, actually," Harry spoke from his place in the rug, he'd been playing with his twins quietly until that moment. They were starting to show signs of wanting to walk, so now they had to always be watching over them when they were awake. "She wanted to marry Prince William."

"What—"

"Thank you for that, Glasses," she groaned, falling back on the couch and hiding her face behind a cushion. "I'll never hear the end of it..."

"Blimey! Princess Mel of England—has a ring to it, lady."

"To think you almost got to be Lady Dumbledore for real!" Fred chortled.

"Shut up, you two," she scowled at the twins. "It was a nice thing to imagine as a child. Either way, when I first dated Harry, I don't remember thinking about a wedding. The most I would picture was Hogsmeade dates and holding hands in front of everyone once Skeeter left us alone..."

"Skeeter's no longer a problem now, is she?" George taunted her. "You guys are disgustingly sweet in public nowadays."

"Well, Georgie, being close to dying really changes your priorities," She joked.

"Look at this one!" Mel laughed, handing the picture to Ginny. "Look how tiny we look next to Charlie!"

The redhead laughs as she looks at the photo Mel's showing her, it's from the 1994 summer, the year of the Quidditch final, before hell broke loose. "Sweet Merlin, look at Charlie's hair!"

They're looking for old pictures of Joe and Fred for the ceremony, and Mel's the only one who has pictures of the both of them at Hogwarts. Mel looks at the images and it's been so long since she sat and look through them, that now she's able to see how much they've changed. 

Her fourteen-year-old self smiles at them, waving enthusiastically at the camera from where she's standing behind the burrow's sofa. Sitting there are Fred and George, and they're scribbling something on parchment, probably the pricelist for his inventions. Her face is much rounder than it is nowadays, though, in a year's time, Mel knows that will change. 

The trauma and growth spurt are bound to sharpen her features, but she remains innocent and sweet in that photo, forever enjoying her summer with the Weasleys and Harry, the boy she has a crush on.

As she looks through the album she starts to think about Hogwarts again, and it amazes her just how much she'd almost forgotten. The spring days sitting under that huge tree by the lake, the late night studying with her friends in the common room, and how could she forget the meal times with Fred and George making her laugh until she choked on her pumpkin juice!

It was all so long ago... a whole decade of experiences and changes, and yet all those memories came back to her as easily as a spell. Her fingers grazed around the soft features of that young Mel, so full of life, with a soul so whole and bright she could take down dementors by just standing there—not quite true, but now it felt like that had been the case—and her eyes teared up a bit.

"Mel, what's the matter?" Ginny asked worryingly.

"Sorry," she sniffed, hastily cleaning her face. "I just... I remembered how young we were when we met—it's so strange... knowing we were once that little, and at some point, I just... forgot."

Ginny looked at her with a soft and understanding smile. "It is strange, isn't it? It's hard not to forget how it felt to be that small... especially someone like you, I guess, holding all that power... hard to believe you were once a little girl, right?"

Mel stared at the picture for a while. She didn't know how badly she loved that little girl until now, and she felt guilty when she thought of the times she'd been embarrassed to have been her. Why, when little Mel had been all that was good in the world? 

She looked at herself with the same eyes her Uncle Lu had at the end of her third year at school, what a remarkable little thing she was, with eyes so smart and clever she looked like she knew more than she let on. No wonder adults were always a little on edge when she was around.

A little girl's squeal brought her back and she looked up. Harry walked into the drawing room holding Emmie's hands as she marched into the room with clumsy feet. Luna walked right after them with James still safely tucked in her arms. 

"Look at her go!" Ginny said proudly. "Hang on, Harry, don't pick her up yet!" She reached for Mel's old camera on the coffee table and turned the baby and her father. "She looks so cute!"

Mel watched as her daughter moved across the room holding tightly to Harry's fingers. He had a huge smile on his face as he encouraged his daughter to keep walking, glancing at Mel from time to time to point Emmie in her direction.

The young mother slipped off the couch and knelt to receive the toddler in her arms, which only encouraged Emmeline to walk faster. Harry almost tripped trying to keep up. Mel laughed and held one hand out for her daughter. "Come along, love, you can do it!"

Ginny took the picture then, the moment Emmeline crashed against her mother's chest and Mel fell on her butt, laughing as much as the baby. Harry helped her to sit up, smiling proudly at his daughter's accomplishment. "She's got good legs," he grinned. "Might be a good climber just like you."

Mel laughed again, cupping her daughter's cheek and beaming. "As long as she learns to not fall on her head, then it's fine."

"Dad!" Emmeline squealed, reaching her chubby little arms to try and pull Harry closer, he sat next to Mel on the rug and kissed Emmie's head, brushing her hair back. 

"What's this?" He grabbed one of the pictures and smiled at it. "Look, Mel, Emmie looks so much like you here!"

He showed her the photo, it was them on her ninth birthday, with icing on her cheek and the roundest cheeks she'd ever seen on a little girl. Harry had one arm around her shoulders and his fingers had icing the same colour as the one on her face. Little Matthew had the same bright emerald eyes as him.

"Yeah she does," Mel beamed, holding onto the toddler and kissing the top of her head. "I hope she gets to be just as happy as I was, too."

Once a month her mother, Remus and Tonks offered to look after the twins and Matthew so she and Harry could go out with Hermione and Ron. They left Rose with Ron's parents and left to spend a whole day in London.

First, they considered going to Diagon Alley, but they didn't want to risk finding Skeeter there, she'd been trying to get a glimpse of Rose and Matthew as well as the twins, and even though they didn't have the kids with them, they didn't want to be disturbed.

So instead, they walked around the muggle city and took Ron to the movies.

"Heard Professor Sprout is planning to retire," Hermione mentioned as she grabbed a fistful of popcorn. "Might be a good idea to mention it to Neville, don't you think?"

"Doesn't he have his own apothecary near his grandma's house?"

"Yeah, but his grandma's really old now, and I mean really old," Mel pointed out. "So it'd be a good idea for him and Hannah to start thinking about their future."

"Thinking about their future?" Ron made a face. "Not like their lives revolve around Neville's grandma..."

"Oh, you know Neville only lives so out of the way to be close to her," Hermione admitted with a sigh. "I agree with Mel, that's why I mentioned Professor's Sprout possible retirement. I think, Mel," she leaned forward and gave her a careful look. "That if you talk to her, she might consider writing to Neville to ask if he's interested."

"I don't know if I even need to do that," Mel shrugged. "He was one of her best students, maybe she's already considering him to fill the spot."

"Wouldn't hurt to make sure of it," Hermione insisted.

"Been years since we went to school and you still look after him," Ron teased her, though his voice was affectionate. "He's a grown man like all of us, Mione, he can do things himself if he wants to."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "You're right. You're right. Sorry, it's just... sometimes I think I still see him as that little boy that used to hide behind us during potions."

Mel giggled, understanding her feelings. "Lately I've been thinking about our time in school as well... the other day I had this dream that I had fallen asleep and everyone had gone to class, but I couldn't find the classrooms, it was as if the entire castle had changed it's hallways and staircases, but I was sure they looked exactly the same, it was me who'd forgotten the directions... and then I looked at myself as I passed next to a window and saw myself in that old Gryffindor uniform?" She smiled. "It felt strange to be wearing it again, even if it was a dream."

"I don't miss wearing those stupid hats," Ron scoffed. "Or the ties..."

"The ties were lovely," Hermione argued. "I liked our winter cloaks and the scarfs were really thick and warm."

"I liked how you looked in your uniform," Harry told Mel with a grin. "Especially the Quidditch one."

Mel lightly hit his shoulder and he laughed, she shook her head. "Isn't it weird that next year Regulus will attend Hogwarts? He'll be part of a house, and use the same uniform, and he'll go to the same classes we did, but it won't be like our time there at all."

"He's definitely a Gryffindor, though," Ron added.

"Yeah," responded the other three.

"I think that makes it just as exciting for us as it will be for him," Hermione said, smiling giddily. "Everything will be new to us in a way."

"Yeah, a first year with no three-headed dogs and giant games of chess," Ron smirked. "We never got to know what that was like."

"We should get him an owl for his eleventh birthday," Mel nudged Harry's arm. "He's got Padfoot, so I don't think a cat's a good idea."

"Padfoot gets along with Grey just fine," he frowned.

"Grey's an old cat, he's too tired to fight him," Mel replied humorously. "A young cat would most likely try to murder Padfoot and Padfoot would probably sit on them until they suffocated."

Harry laughed. "Fine, an owl it is."

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @21bruhs @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead @greengarsstuff @aconfusedslytherin @talksoprettyjjx @avengersz-biotch @23victoria @moonhoonie @raajali3 @peachyaeger @espressopatronum454 @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @na1ven3vy

[awesome-en-vogue-craze-post-blog]

Part of Us: An En Vogue Fancast | Designing Our Own En Vogue Album

In this episode, our hosts are donning their producer hats (quite stylish, I might add!) to craft their own En Vogue album. They discuss themes, concepts, and the oh-so-delicate art of picking the perfect producers. Additionally, they'll be dreaming big with potential collaborations, tracklist sequencing, album artwork ideas, and their release strategy. Tune in and find out if they can hit all the right notes!

We would like to extend our gratitude to those who have taken the time to rate and review Part of Us: An En Vogue Fancast on Apple Podcasts. If you have not done so already, we kindly ask that you consider leaving a rating and review, and subscribing to our podcast. Your continued support is instrumental in growing our community and reaching a wider audience. Thank you for being a part of our journey!

To access additional En Vogue content, please visit us on Twitter at @PartofUsFancast, as well as on Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube at @envoguecraze.

We welcome your feedback and encourage you to share your comments, questions, and topic suggestions with us by emailing partofusevf@gmail.com. We greatly appreciate your support and look forward to hearing from you!

Produced & edited by Matthew at Culture Inject Studios.

Check out this episode!

[the-hellhounds]

Merry Christmas/Happy Birthday to Minjun!!!

Haechan: Since it's Christmas and also my baby boy's birthday, I wanted to throw him a birthday party!! *smiles*

Taeyong: I'm sure he'll love it, Hyuck.

Haechan: Thank you, hyung. *smiles and turns to the rest with Minjun in arms* Shall we get this party started?

Maknae line: Yes!!

With a squeal of excitement, Minjun sees all the balloons that all his uncles had blown up and decorated the pack house with. A few designed with teddy bears— per Haechan's request.

"Now I really want everyone to please behave. It's Minjunnie's first birthday and I swear I will hang someone if it goes wrong." Haechan says with the most sweetest, and deadly smile he could muster as he glared towards the four hounds huddled away from them.

Renjun and Mark chuckled as they had on Santa hats, "Don't worry, dude. Everything will go by fine." Mark reassures him.

As the night went on, and the cake in the shape of a teddy bear was cut and served after Minjun blew out his candles, everyone was in the living room with a cup of hot chocolate— Minjun with his own sippy cup of warm milk, courtesy of Changkyun for being in a good mood that day.

"Alright, alright, alright," Haechan says trying to get everyone's attention.

"Yes, Mr. Matthew McConaughey?" Hanbin asks with a snicker as he was sat next to Kai and Lucas.

Haechan only glared at him as he held Minjun in his lap on the floor. A silent slice of his neck indicating for him to shut it or else. "Now, Minjun will open his presents first since he's the pup of the pack." He says with a smile as he kissed his son on the top of his head. "Ready buddy?" He asks softly to him as Jeno passes Minjun a wrapped box that had Pokémon characters all over it.

With a small nod of his head, the small one year old smiles with his binky in mouth. Small hands slapping down on the box as he giggled happily seeing his favorite TV show as the wrapping. "Baby, you need to rip the paper." Haechan laughs seeing his son hug the box. "Stop hugging the box and just-"

*RIP*

"Yes! There you go!"

Everyone cooed at how adorable the youngest hell hound was with opening his gifts. Let's also not forget how the older hounds that peered over actually melted a bit at the sight of the young pup emitting such happiness.

"Did you really buy a one year old a jeep?" Chenle asks Chanyeol who shrugged as he sipped at his hot chocolate that Baekhyun spiked.

"It's a Mercedes. I didn't know what you get a one year old."

As everyone got to open their gifts and mingle with their partners that had come for the celebration in family, Haechan hugged his one year old as he kissed his cheek. "I love you, my sweet sweet boy~" He coos to Minjun who smiled at his father's love and affection. "Happy birthday, Minjunnie."

Admin note: Minjun a few months old on the left vs. Minjun at 1 year old on the right ❣️

[neobubz]

★ MASTERLIST☆

Please DO NOT repost my work. If you see my work elsewhere then it was stolen. I only post my stories on here. Also, do not translate my work either. Please notify me if you see my stories on other sites. Thank you in advance!

If you see 18+ or (M) that means MATURE READERS ONLY. If you are not 18+ DO NOT INTERACT. I repeat, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THOSE STORIES

Series

Quiet Down

pairing: fem reader x renjun x haechan

Synopsis: Twice a year the company any you work for holds a retreat. This year’s retreat is at a beautiful lakefront. Pulling names out of a hat to find who your designated partner and roommate will be you’re shocked to see a familiar yet unfamiliar name, Huang Renjun. Known as the quiet new guy at the office you’re already planning to spend the long weekend in bed, but when his best friend Haechan strikes up a conversation with you things take a dramatic turn for the better.

Tension Release (M)

**ongoing story**

Pairings: fem reader x husband x jeno

Synopsis: Ever since you saw your husband Matthew, you knew he was the love of your life. Spending five years of married life together has you feeling amazing highs but insufferable lows. As of late, you’ve hit rock bottom. When your friend Roz’s cousin Jeno moves into town you find yourself feeling happier than ever, but at what cost?

Short Stories (2+ parts)

Unexpected Development (M)

**3 part Story**

Pairing: fem reader x jeno

Synopsis: The group long weekend trips are something you look forward to each time. Staying at cabins at the lakefront, in the woods, at a ski resort — anywhere that let you hang out with your best friends was amazing. Well, at least until tonight. After a huge fight ensues you find yourself bunking with Jeno an unusual match up. Finding yourself both nervous and yet comfortable you settle down when strange noises has you waking up to find something shocking.

Puppy Love (M)

**2 Part Story**

Pairing: fem reader x jeno

Synopsis: Ever since you were little you’ve hated hybrids. They only brought trouble and a painful memory. So it was a shocker to find out the club your friend wanted to have her bachelorette party at was at a hybrid club! You nearly hit the roof! Uncomfortable, you manage to become acquainted with a tiger hybrid by the name of Mark who introduces you to everyone, but it’s a wolf hybrid by the name of Jeno that takes your breathe away in more ways then one.

One Shot

Art Class (Fluff)

Pairing: fem reader x renjun

Synopsis: Art wasn’t your forte. So signing up for an art class was an unusual choice for you, but your best friend in the whole entire world, Huang Renjun, made it a million times more enjoyable. Working on your art projects you find yourself thinking over what Renjun really means to you.

Prey (M)

Pairing: fem reader x jaemin

Synopsis: On your way to surprise your parents for Christmas you end up in the care of a very sweet and kind man, Jaemin. Finding yourself falling for him as the days go you start to wonder what being in a relationship with him would truly be like. However, a dark day has Jaemin showing another side of himself. The question is, are you ready for the game of a lifetime?

The Tutor (M)

Preview **coming soon**

Pairing: fem reader (student) x johnny (tutor)

Tit for Tat (M)

**coming soon*

Pairing: fem reader x haechan

[nochiquinn]

campaign 3 episode 24: something something twilight joke

I took out my earbuds bc sam ad but I can't do that bc my roommate is ahead of me in horizon forbidden west and I don't wanna get spoiled

rock and a hard place

professional voice actor matthew mercer

"MARISHA START TALKING PLEASE"

ashley's hair tho

"distinguished heroes" false, sam is playing

I can't believe matt's gonna tpk them two minutes in

"tonight, on THIS VERY SKYSHIP..."

dragons

three dragons

syphilis bandits

I can't believe fcg microaggressed chetney

land squid!!

"do you think it's a good idea, fearne?" "yes :D"

dsfjsdkjDKFJSK

arcane airbrake is my steampunk rock band

"how you discern squids"

the girl with periscope eyes

who hurt squid baby :(

like getting a turtle off the road

"we're doing it now!!"

"I wanna try some weird shit"

this tremors au is weird

"if a fist is all it takes then we were dead already"

mala: Griffin, I would like to punch the crystal

I only missed the meme bc I was distracted by ashton talking about fisting the crystal

oh NO

like this absolutely sucks but they can't like. let it murder the caravan.

SQUIDHANDS

OH NO

Dark Stony Meat is what ashton drops when he dies

"fleshtongue fcg can't hurt me"

dawn of the final day

"red rock wall" and other phrases designed to make my speech impediment shit itself and die

love trying to explain level ups in-universe

I just saw laura's shirt, imogen now canonically owns this shirt

OHH

petals to the metal

he's smoking patchouli

ashton what

YEAHHHH

"when you ask ashton a question, the answer comes in 24-48 hours"

"I have a lot to read"

confirmed, sam doesn't know how to clean out a canteen

okay glados

IT HAPPENED

ERIKA

ELF ERIKA

ELFIKA

WANT ART

[makes grabby hands for nameless elf art]

"I come into your home...."

"this piece of shit...I'm talking about matthew mercer"

the others playing darts sdlkfjsl

"I FJORDED MYSELF"

excuse

ashton vs sleep paralysis demon ashton

WHAT

I honestly zoned out until "thirty-one points of damage"

they take WHAT

imogen too stronk

ashton was right, she IS scarier than them

dusk!!

art!

warlock!

she's helping

"that's one of my favorite smells!" .....[slowly applies tinfoil hat]

fearne

"my name - " "starts with a d!" "is razputin"

matt just because the monkey didn't like you

"whole community" whole polycule

laudna I love you

“a year?” MIGHT AS WELL BE

this is a much better cliffhanger than I was expecting

campaign 1 would have left us with a tpk in progress

[gwyn-bd]

Thomastair Week, Day 3: Thomastair Fluff/Angst

Thanks to @youngreckless for hosting this event

It is never too late, Alastair

It was early evening and Alastair was walking the streets of London. The sky he was growing accustomed to pale gray, Alastair was trying to find a space inside of him where the state of things was suspended, the worries not entering, so that he could keep walking and enjoy the view neutrally. Except that it was certainly not so easy.

Cordelia was in Paris, and he was concerned about her. Maybe there where thing she had not told him and if she had, he would have tried to help. Alastair knew that this was the result of the conduct that he had been carrying on toward her sister. Towards everyone. Still, for the time being, there was nothing he could do – he talked with James and his parents William and Tessa, and they discussed a little about what to do, but it was still not certain whether they should depart soon or not, and they also had to find Lucie. What was that made Cordelia so sad? What made her leave London with Matthew Fairchild? Was Paris making her feel relieved, even if just a little, by the last time they had that conversation?

Alastair should have known that entering his space was out of question for that day, so he just continued to cross street after street until he found himself in front of a shop window. What caught his attention, even if he was facing forward and the shop was on his right side, was its content. A lot of hats were displayed. Among them, one was very elegant and funny. On the cuff was placed a little pin of a geometrical form. It resembled a compass rose. But there’ s not the rose, Alastair said by himself, a smile appearing unconsciously on his face. He then found himself surprised by this. For a moment it was like time stopped, it was just an impression, he knew well, still… How could such calm warmness disperse all through his chest? He had to keep his mind away from him. He had made it clear after all.

He decided to enter the shop. Will just have a look, he thought, and after wandering he approached again that hat. It was strange to see a design like that, he had never seen a pin on a hat, let alone of that curious form, but it was not like he had an appropriate knowledge about all the hats of this world either. That hat would have been perfect for Thomas. The copper color would match his features so well and make his hazel eyes stand out. Moreover, if a compass rose is meant to lead someone home, one could as well remember to wear a hat before leaving just by looking at that pin. It leads you away from careless acts. Those were the perfectly reasonable thoughts that crossed Alastair’s mind, but then again, if he ever were to buy that thing - the thinking already crossed his mind two or three times for reasons he could not find a clear answer to – on what purpose? It was not like he could easily go and give it to him, not after all he said the last time they talked.

He did not know exactly why but ended up buying that elegant and funny hat. Without thinking too much he just called the assistant and asked for that hat to be packed in a discreet manner. He paid and leaved the shop. He knew that he bought it because, after all, he had hope. Hope that one day he could deliver that small gift to him, under different circumstances. It was not much to ask for- giving it as a birthday present next year would not be such a harm- the possibility to be at least on good terms with Thomas, one day. So, for now, he would keep it at home. Before reaching home, Alastair decided to go to the Institute just in case there were some news from Paris or about Lucie. When he asked about James, Bridget told him that he was with his father and mother and that they would reach him as soon as possible. He thanked her and went in the library. The little pack still in his hand, he walked around the shelves. From the noises outside, he guessed it had started raining. To have a look at the titles of the books finally calmed him. There were so many he could spend hours in that place. The sound of rain was getting heavier and heavier. Immersed in his contemplation of various works of literature and accompanied by the regular sound of the rain, he did not notice when someone entered the room. Herondale, he thought, but when he turned toward the door, he saw the figure of Thomas standing still. They looked for some seconds, uncertain about what to do.

“Sorry, I did not know, you… were here” Started Thomas with a trembling voice.

“Oh, ehm, no..” Don’t say sorry, he wanted to say, please. He was about to explain the reason he was here, but Thomas continued.

“Where have you been?” He asked, at the same time as he put his hand on the forearm, where his tattoo was covered by layers of clothes, the last being a wet jacket. In fact, Thomas’ face and hair were both wet. His gaze fell on Alastair’s hand which held the small package.

“Nothing of your interest” Alastair replied immediately with a cold tone. As he immediately regretted what he said, turning his gaze to the pile of books on one of the shelves because he did not want to see whatever expression appeared on Thomas’ face. It had better be anger, it could be easier to bear. He had to be polite, Thomas did not deserve all of this. He went by “As I believe no one would enjoy doing commissions of any kind.” He hoped he would not inquire further. To make sure, he added “I just bought some writing stuff, pen, paper and so on. I needed them.” The package was like the ones used for papers or letters, since the hat could be fold, if necessary, like a boat of paper. Alastair silently thanked the shop assistant. He raised his hand as if to examine it and eventually said “But I think now is late to write”.

Alastair hoped he managed to handle the situation. He could not even be sure of what he was saying, if it was reasonable. All he was doing was trying to avoid the awareness of being with Thomas, and the sense of uncertainty that followed. How much talking about paper and pens while her sister was away from London with her friend and her future parabatai was missing, was a good argument, he was not sure. Probably he sounded like an idiot. But he was spared the self-pity because as soon as Thomas gave an answer, Tessa, Will and James entered the library.

“I knew we would find you here, Alastair”. For how much he appreciated James’ father remark, Alastair would have preferred to hear Thomas’ reply.

"It’s never too late, Alastair" was what Thomas had gently and softly said, before silently leaving the library, feeling like he had no reason to stay.

[greatbigbellies]

Hello! This is another commission that I finished a little bit ago. This one is about a pregnant giantess and her normal sized boyfriend, who are circus performers! This anonymous piece contains: giantess pregnancy, smoking while pregnant, size difference, safe vore, belly worship, and mentions of stuffing. Probably goes without saying, but this blog and its owner don’t endorse smoking while pregnant. With that out of the way, please enjoy!

SPECTACLE! GRANDEUR! MARVEL! All of this, and more, can be found at Herbert Hamstring’s Gigantic Circus of Wonderment™! Herbert was the inventor and sole owner of the worlds only Titan Capacity circus tent, and boy did he know how to fill it. The size of an average sports stadium, he had a butt to fill every one of his 80,000 seats, and enough acts for every ring of his circus. Herbert, though, had a favorite act, and it was one he always saved for last. As clowns ushered elephants, tigers, and other animals out of the tent, the acrobats followed suit, trailed after by strongmen.

All of these were great acts, and all had their fans, but his BIGGEST act was by far the most popular. Herbert balanced on his unicycle, megaphone in hand, ready to shout his queue. A short man with more charisma than his crooked smile should allow, he wore a bright red suit with coattails long enough they should have gotten tangled in his unicycle’s wheel spokes, but didn’t, and a garish red tophat to match.

He smirked, glancing over to make sure his fireworks woman, Marie, was still in position. She wore a long, elegant red dress, which clung to her lithe frame. Held between her plump red lips was a long, golden cigarette holder, its smoke swirling lazily around her dark black hair. “You ready, toots?” he asked, covering the back of the megaphone so only she heard. “Don’t call me ‘toots’, you urchin,” she grumbled back to him in her thick french accent. Herbert smiled, good ol’ Marie! Always in fine spirits!

“Alright folks! You’ve seen thrills, chills, and spills! But I hope you’re all ready for our finest act yet to cap off the night! Give it up for Towering Anna and Cannonball Matt!” he shouted into his megaphone, receiving thunderous applause from the audience. The ground shook rhythmically as the final act approached, silencing every spectator in anticipation. The newcomers had no idea what to expect, but the veterans of Herbert’s show knew full well this was the best part. 

The stomping grew closer and closer, before Anastasia made her grand appearance… or at least… half of her grand appearance. She grunted, on all fours, as the wide breadth of the giantess’ pregnant belly got caught on some supports for the tent. Her boyfriend and acting partner, Matthew, rode in on a huge, fat cigar which she held between her teeth. The cigar was as big around as a large tree, and its end glowed brighter in time with her inhales. Small sparks and ashes fell to the ground, raining from the cigar’s tip like falling stars. Anastasia was ALWAYS seen smoking a cigar. It was simply a part of her persona, and it even bore the circus’ insignia.

“I’m stuck!” she shouted to Herbert in her thick russian accent, her voice light and airy despite her immense size. Herbert waved toward her, and several acrobats came flipping out from back stage to help her, pushing her pregnant belly in and pulling the supports out as best they could.

After an awkward minute or so, she popped through, and Matthew almost fell off of his perch on her cigar. The acrobats made themselves scarce, as the huge, pregnant giantess crawled into her spot in the tent. She wore a long, gorgeous fur coat that was obviously of russian design. The body of the coat was dark brown while the collar was a huge, puffy mass of fur. Beneath that was a fuzzy miniskirt which left her thighs on display, and atop her head was a large, puffy, fuzzy black ushanka, it’s ear flaps pulled up to give the hat its distinct, cylindrical shape. Under the hat flowed her long, gorgeous, golden blonde hair, which reached her shoulders before curling back up slightly. Her gigantic babies kicked as she took a long, deep drag off of her cigar, before exhaling a wall of smoke down at Herbert. He coughed and swore under his breath. “Don’t- *cough* *cough*, don’t worry folks, only the lightest menthol cigars for our expecting giant!” he joked, getting rolling laughter from the audience.

Anna sneered down at him for the “giant” comment, but moved on with the act. She gently took Matthew from her cigar and placed him on the ground. He waved as he slowly walked across the dirt stage toward his cannon. Matthew was a relatively short 5’6” man from Philadelphia with scruffy red hair. He was thin and petite for a guy, which only made him contrast more with his gigantic girlfriend. It came in handy though, as it let him fit into the cannon all the easier.

 At this point she took off her coat and hat, letting her hair down and showing off what she wore beneath. Under the coat was a bright red sequin two piece dress, which allowed her massive, mountainous tummy to lay bare for all to see. She unbuttoned the miniskirt to allow the longer sequin skirt to flow down, getting hoots and whistles from the audience. “Now folks, our brave man Cannonball Matthew will be shot, clean across the stage, that’s the length of a football field, folks, into miss Towering Anna’s waiting gullet! No ropes, strings, nets, parachutes, or waiting medical staff! Ha ha!”

Anastasia bounced her long blonde hair and took another deep cigar drag. She blew a stream at the audience before puffing several long-lasting smoke rings between her face and Matthew’s cannon. Matt waved at a group of circus-goers before climbing into his bright red, white, and blue cannon, sticking his hand out to give Marie a thumbs up. Marie rolled her eyes, and took her dainty cigarette mouthpiece out of her mouth before lighting several fuses with it, the last of which was the cannon’s. 

In perfect, professional synchronization, several fireworks shot off and burst right as Matthew’s cannon basted him out. The bursts of color perfectly timed with his exit from the circus prop. Arms at his side, he few across the stage, flying perfectly through the smoke rings… and landing right between Anastasia’s milk-filled breasts. Audience members, other performers, and Herbert alike went silent for a moment, before Anna pulled her boyfriend out of her cleavage. Matthew shook his head before loudly shouting “Can we make that a permanent part of the act?” 

Anastasia blushed a bright pink as the entire circus tent erupted with laugher. Herbert himself was laughing so hard he nearly fell off of his unicycle. “Only if it means you’ll work for free!” the ringmaster called back. Anastasia’s blush went from a light pink to a deeper red as Matthew beamed in delight. She bent forward on her knees, reaching out and grabbing the cannon. “Sorry babe, that was just a comedic opportunity I couldn’t pass up,” he whispered to Anna. “you’re fine hon, but hold still,” she shyly whispered back, before holding the cannon under Matt and dropping him down the barrel. He grunted when he landed but gave her a thumbs up to signal he was okay. She nodded before leaning forward again, placing the cannon back where it belonged and tilting it up slightly to it would aim where they wanted it.

She pinched her gigantic, fat cigar in her fingers and took a long, deep drag, lighting up the end like a bonfire. The burnt portion creeping slowly closer to her lips. She puffed out a few extra smoke rings before letting the rest of the smoke lazily float out of her gaping mouth, ready to receive her high velocity boyfriend. 

Marie, in her low cut dress, noticed her cigarette burning out. She huffed in frustration and called out to the giantess. “You’ll have to light him up yourself. I’m afraid my light has all but faded,” she said, her voice thick with both accent and impatience. Anastasia reached across the performance area, picking up what looked like a toy cannon in her hands. She turned it around and sucked on her cigar, causing the end to glow brighter, and she lit the fuse with its glowing end. Realizing how short the fuse was, she tossed the cannon back into place, much to the surprise and delight of the crowd. The cannon landed with a *CLANG* and threw dust all over Marie’s dress. “I have to clean that, you giant oaf!” Marie shouted, shaking her fist. Anastasia was too busy to see, however, dutifully getting back in position, sitting on her knees, with her mouth open to give Matthew a landing zone. 

Marie, regretting asking for help, flipped open a tiny metal lighter, reigniting her cigarette and lighting a few more fireworks. With a loud *THUD*, Matthew flew out of his cannon in time to a barrage of green and blue fireworks. He launched through all of the smoke rings and arced perfectly before soaring down into Anna’s waiting throat. 

*GULP* went Anastasia as her comparatively miniscule boyfriend slid down her throat visibly. All the way down he went until he landed in her warm, safe stomach. She belched, releasing a small puff of smoke from her gullet, which caused her to blush again. The tent erupted with applause at the amazing feat. Her massive, freckled belly swelled slightly larger to make room for its new occupant, and she rubbed it tenderly in response. 

“Hahaha! Aren’t these two great folks!? Remember to buy Anastasia brand cigars on your way out, complete with a collectable tin exclusive to our gift shop! Thanks for coming out, and remember, no one does it like Herbert Hamstring!” The audience stood up to give an ovation and Anna waved at the crowd, blowing the occasional kiss and puff of cigar smoke. She was still blushing from all of the attention, though. Truth was she hated being center stage, but being a circus performer, and a 70 foot tall one at that… she was bound to get lots of attention. As people started filtering out, she turned around, her large pregnant belly swinging wide as she did, her babies and Matthew sloshing around inside. She slid her coat and hat back on, but elected to just carry her miniskirt. Her coat remained open to expose her bare, pale, pregnant belly.

“You did great today Toots! Primo stuff right there! I might have to add that cannon toss gimmick to the show, if we can figure out how to do it consistently!” congratulated Herbert, even his words of praise coming across somewhat slimy. Anastasia smiled and nodded, and made her way out the same way she came in, her slightly larger tummy making it no easier the second time.

After waddling to the backstage area and crawling through the tent flaps to their spot, Anastasia gave her belly a firm pat on the top. “Alright Matthew, it’s time to come out. Show is over,” she said, her voice still light and airy. “Aww, but it’s so warm in the tummy!” mumbled Matt from inside, his voice muffled by Anna’s very very sizable belly. “Solnyshka, I need you to come out. I want to have an important conversation with you,” Anna replied, referring to Matt as her pet name for him. She felt a small movement from deep in her pregnant gut, telling her Matthew was complying, taking her gigantic cigar out of her mouth. “Just a moment, dear,” he said, clamoring up her esophagus.

Anastasia gagged for a moment before spitting her boyfriend out, catching him gently in her dainty, if gigantic hands. “What’s wrong dear? Something bothering you? Was it Marie again? That stone cold-” Matthew was interrupted, “No no, nothing to do with her… just…” she trailed off as she placed her cigar back between her lips. “I don’t like doing the act anymore, Solnyshka!” she exclaimed, nervously puffing on her cigar more. Embers flitted from its glowing end and drifted down, going out on the cold, tarp floor. “Why?!” asked Matthew incredulously. “Well…” Anna trailed off again as she laid on her back, her thick coat providing some much needed padding. She took a deep drag and smoke billowed out of her upward facing mouth like ash from an active volcano.

“We met here at the circus, and got instantly paired by Herbert, but do you know what act I was a part of before you joined and we started the cannon show?” she asked, her hand rubbing the broadside of her smooth, freckled belly. Matthew sat in her hand, thinking for a moment. “Uh… juggling the acrobats?” he guessed. Anastasia sighed. “The freak show, Matthew. The name ‘Towering Anna’ came from my enormous, freakish height!” she said, emotions and pregnancy hormones making her tear up. She hastily took another cigar puff and fought back tears. “A-and now… now I’m just the giant fat pregnant freak who eats the cannon ball man!” she said in frustration, her accent becoming thicker as she grew more frustrated. 

“But babe! You’re not some giant pregnant freak!” Matt began as he clambered off of his girlfriend’s hand and onto her exposed belly, moving toward her popped navel. “You’re MY super hot pregnant girlfriend! And you’re 7 months pregnant with OUR babies! That I’M the father of! And you look AMAZING! And you voice is MELODIC! And the fact that you can consistently catch me in your mouth every show without hurting me is frankly IMPRESSIVE!” he showered her with praise, she wiped her tears away.

“Well…” she began, her airy voice a little less shaky now, “I am quite good at what I do, but the crowds still arrive just to see how huge I am,” she glanced down at her tummy. “Emphasis on HUGE!” she said. Matthew scoffed, “Dear, you’ve got three babies in there, you’re SUPPOSED to be a little round! And frankly, I find it pretty hot myself,” Anastasia raised an eyebrow, and took another puff from her fat cigar. “I find that doubtful,” she replied. “What?! Anna, inside or outside of your tummy, I love this thing!” he got down on his knees and flattened against it with his arms spread, emulating the closest thing he could get to a hug. Anastasia blushed brightly again, feeling weirdly flattered at her boyfriends insistence that she looked good while pregnant. 

Matthew, sensing his opportunity, leaned harder on what he was going, and planted a little kiss on the vast expanse of pregnant flesh. “Like, your tummy is so smooth, and perfect! You take such good care of it!” now it was Anna’s turn to scoff, “I got my first stretch mark the other day, Matthew, my midriff looks obscene!” she pinched her cig and sucked deeply, filling her lungs with its comforting smoke. “I’ll be the judge of that!” Matthew walked over to the slope of her underbelly and slid down, landing on her thigh. He turned around to investigate, noticing a pink stripe about as long as he was tall, “Is this it? Anastasia, you’re so dramatic, this is tiny! And besides…” he leaned forward and smooched it, “It’s as lovely as the rest of you!”

Anastasia’s blush deepened, and she felt Matthew quickly scrambled hack up the way he came, her tummy just soft enough for him to sink his fingers in and get a grip. “Besides,” he grunted as he neared the apex of her belly slope. “No one’s looking down there, cause they’ll be too busy looking at your flawless face!” he pressed his hands into her soft outie, which was quite sensitive. “O-oh!” Anna gasped in surprise. “I still know how to push your buttons” Matthew winked. “You’re having too much fun on my tummy!” replied Anastasia.

Matthew grinned. “Not as much fun as I had that time you ate that giant squid and drank half a lake! Your tummy was a full on aquarium!” he teased. “Ooohhh, Solnyshka, don’t remind me, I’ve never been so bloated!” she replied. “I could feel them all swimming about in my belly, it was so strange,” she continued. “You literally sloshed when you walked, dear, it was amazing,” Matt reminisced. “You are so strange, Matthew. Though I will not lie, your fascination with my belly has make me more confident during this… trying pregnancy,” she smiled down at him as he began kissing her belly more.

He laughed giddily in response, “The bigger you get, the more of you there is for me to love!” he said, smooching and occasionally licking her skin. One of her giant babies rolled inside of her, nearly bucking Matthew off of the tummy. Still, he held on, and continued his peppering of kisses. “Remember that time we went to the pacific north west of the United States, and you got a craving for trees?” he said, giving Anna more of a blush as she remembered the embarrassing story. “Oh god, I nearly deforested an entire hillside!” she chuckled, a delightful sound with her accent and light voice.

She looked down at Matthew going to town on her belly, and knew how to make him even happier. “Oh, Solnyshka, I believe the outside of my tummy has been pampered enough. Why not give it some love form the inside?” she offered. Matthew’s eyes lit up. “Can we do ‘the THING’?” he asked excitedly. “Oh, but it’s so unsafe…” “You always catch me, darling, please?! It’s such a great way to end the night!” Matt pleaded. Anastasia, sighing with a smile, grabbed her cigar and lowered it to her belly, for Matthew to climb on. “You’re the BEST!” he cheered as he awkwardly clambered on.

She raised the cigar to her mouth and Matthew climbed in, then she very heavily and awkwardly rolled onto her side and stuck her head out the back open flap of the tent. She shifted a little in place, leaning upward slightly to give her esophagus a bit of slope. Matthew would be needing it. “Ready?” she asked, keeping her mouth slightly ajar. “Always!” replied Matt from inside.

Anastasia took a long drag from her cigar before taking it out of her mouth, and then spat Matthew straight up into the air with magnificent force. He flew up, up, up, and out of sight with a twinkle, a trail of menthol smoke trailing behind him. She squinted, watching for him. After a deceptively long hang time, she heard him yelling as he came falling back to the earth. She lined up her mouth with his trajectory, and with a resounding *GULP!* caught him and swallowed him up, safely landing him in her stomach.

After sliding down her throat and into her waiting belly, Matthew took a moment to get his bearings. He was perfectly safe inside her stomach, the lining of his suit was specially made to be acid resistant, but it was dark in there. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket to illuminate the cavity of his giant girlfriend’s belly, and made his way over to the wall of her stomach. He always felt strangely safe and comfortable in there, spending a fair bit of time even between shows inside of her, something Anastasia didn’t necessarily mind.

She rubbed her own gravid belly form the outside, stirring some movement from her growing triplets. Inside, Matthew ran his hands along her stomach wall, drawing large sweeping circles with his palms gently. The internal belly massage felt strangely amazing, and Anna didn’t want him to stop. There was something strangely soothing about it. “I can feel them kicking on this side!” he shouted excitedly, his voice barely audible through Anastasia’s engorged pregnant belly. “They feel so strong, dear, you’re doing amazing!” he beamed, his smile audible in his voice even with the muffling. It was when he got like this that Anna knew Matthew well and truly was in love with her.

“I’m glad you think so dear,” yawned Anastasia as she stretched her arms, nearly taking down the tent they were in due to her height. Matthew put his ear to the inside of Anna’s tummy, and listened to the three strong heartbeats of his kids. “Their hearts are so clear in here! I wish you could hear this!” he was almost giddy at this point. He turned his face and gave her a few more kisses, an admittedly strange sensation for Anna as she lay back down. “Are you having fun in there?” she asked sleepily.

“The time of my life, darling,” he called back. Anastasia took one last puff of her cigar before flicking it straight up, sending it flying higher and higher before is disappeared with a twinkle, caught somewhere in orbit. “Mama is getting sleepy, Solnyshka. Will you be good in there until morning?” she asked. Being a giantess meant her body expended a lot of energy, even before being pregnant. As a result, the blonde bombshell of a giant took many a nap, often with Matthew nestled comfortably inside of her. “Oh of course. I’ll have my fun and then just sleep in here,” he said, patting her from the inside.

Anastasia yawned again, “Okay my sweet. You enjoy yourself in there,” she mumbled as she nestled into her coat, her large, warm, freckled, bare belly still visibly nudging from her triplet’s movements. One such movement kicked deeper into Anna, causing Matthew to nearly fly backward from the sudden shove. He laughed, and made his way back to the wall of tissue. “You little rascals. Not even born yet and you’re already causing trouble,” he said out loud. He patted the wall, placed another kiss, and then called out, “Goodnight Anastasia!”

Anastasia croaked in response, “Goodnight, Matthew,”

[orlissa]

Okay, I have finished season 2, and here are my first impressions. Beware of spoilers.

What I have ambigious feelings about:

Changes in the timeline. On the one hand, streamlining the timeline this way, making their spatial journey more linear, makes sense, and it definitely translates better to the screen than the original book timeline would have. But on the other hand, it did break the chain of cause and effect a couple of times, which I didn’t like. E.g. Diana manifested that baby chick in the book, because she was thinking about her own baby. The very same scene taking part in the series before she is pregnant makes it senseless.

Weaving. On the one hand, I loved the visual representation of weaving. On the other hand, I detect a big fail in logic there: the only weavers are Goody and Diana. Only weavers can see the strands. Yet three other witches, who are not weavers, are handing Diana the strands. So... What? The same goes for Corra. From simply an aesthetic point of you, I liked how she looked, but she resembled more of a phoenix than a firedrake.

Phillippe. I really enjoyed James Purefoy’s portrayal of the character, but I felt like the narrative stripped much of Phillippe’s genius. Series Phillippe is a smart, powerful man, but he’s nowhere near book Phillippe, who is two steps ahead of everybody.

Steven. His scenes with Diana were really touching, but the actor always looked somewhat uncomfortable, and the whole role was just simply missing Steven liveiness from the book.

The witch’s kiss/heart vein scene. I loved its intimacy, but the actual act was overdone, and overall it seemed painful--not even the bite, but the kiss.

Marcus thinking about handing over the Grandmaster title to Baldwin. On the one hand, this subplot works really well in fleshing out Marcus’ character, but on the other hand, nope, he’d never do that.

The miniatures. It felt a bit strange that it was Matthew and Diana who commissioned the portraits (and to be honest, Diana’s looked a bit off), but at the same time the pictures served as great reason to include Jack in the present-day plot.

What I liked

All the little moments between Matthew and Diana. Especially those teasing scenes in ep 1 and when he gives her the pants for riding.

The wedding night.

Kit. I actually really liked Kit. He was a bit less of an asshole here, so it made more sense that Diana forgave him, while on the other hand the way he tried to manipulate Matthew was great.

Okay, Louisa too.

And the way Kit lured Diana away! Yeah, Matthew being in danger would definitely work better than “hey, let’s have a stroll together.”

Having Aisling Loftus play both Sophie and Susanna.

Jack. Especially his scenes with Matthew.

Jack’s presence in the background in the present.

Elizabeth. It was one of my favorite portrayals of her.

All the little details, like the pockmarks on Elizabeth’s face, the ouriborus on the saddles, and the names of the alchemical stages on the walls of the Hart and Crown.

The wardrobe. You know I’m a historical costume nut. And Diana wore quilted bodices (I want to say jumps, but based on what I’m reading that’s a bit anachronistic and they should be laced on the front) over a chemise. There was not one unbound head of hair that was not contextually appropiate (e.g. braind coming apart during travelling, hair let down in the bedchamber). The men wore hats.

Phoebe and Marcus. We know so little of their courtship, I liked how the series filled out the blanks. (Also, any guesses what the bunch of sixes on the wall in Marcus’ kitchen might signify?)

Also seeing what’s happening to those who were left behind in the present.

The narrative tension in the second to last ep. It was a good idea to bring in that conflict with Elizabeth. The last part of the book is kind of sedate, so this addition worked really well on the screen.

It’s not like a like-like, but I’m mostly content with what they cut? I mean, they streamlined the plot and the cast of characters in a pretty nifty way. Do I like Annie, Tom, George, Alain, and Chef? Yeah, sure I do. Were they absolutely necessary for the plot? Apparently, no.

What I didn’t like

How they learn that Diana is pregnant. Since the series refused to entertain the thought of them having a baby before the fact, sure, it hits big (in a way), but they’re not given the space/time to properly investigate what it means to them. Beyond fleeting remarks that “I’m sorry we cannot have children together” it’s never addressed whether it’s something they want or not. So, yeah, the very least they would have needed one longer scene there.

Rudolf. Since much of the Prague section was cut (although I applaud the whole “hunting lodge” idea to cut production expenses), but Rudolf needed to be behaving in a certain way in certain scenes, he came off a bit inconsistent. “I hate you get out of my sight!” and then in the next scene “Just kidding, come back, please?”

How the wardrobe was used sometimes. Like, as I said before, I like the production design, but the directoral choice was a bit off sometimes. For example, especially when Diana is presented to Rudolf with her jacket undone and her shirt hanging out. That’s a big etiquette no-no.

Henry Percy barely got any screentime! He is a sweetheart! He deserved more!

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Griffin Matthews, Dear White People

Actor (on screen and on stage) and writer Griffin Matthews wears many hats (both real and metaphorical). If you’re a fan of Netflix’s Dear White People, you probably recognize Griffin as D’Unte from Season 3. Along with his breakout performance in Dear White People, you can catch him in Season 5 of HBO’s Ballers, which premieres on August 25th. In addition to his acting chops, Griffin co-wrote, with his husband Matt Gould, and starred in Invisible Thread (aka Witness Uganda) which details the journey of their experience and the complexities of founding the nonprofit organization, UgandaProject, that sponsors the education of orphans living in Uganda. He also co-wrote The Family Project alongside Gould, a documentary musical about the ever-changing face of the American family. Griffin was kind enough to answer some questions about Dear White People, Ballers, and his desire for Michelle Obama to narrate his life. 

Is there a line or scene that you feel defines D’Unte on Dear White People?

"This is the deep end of the gay pool, and you still got your little floaties on."

If you were in college right now, what would you major in and which clubs would you join and/or create?

I'd major in Psychology to become a Therapist because a lot of people are going to need a lot of therapy after surviving four years of this political madness. I'd join every LGBTQ club because when I was in school they didn't really exist…and if they did, I was too afraid to attend. I mean, the gay club existed on Thursday nights (which I frequently attended)...but that was a very different kind of club (wink wink).

What’s your favorite storyline or character arc from season 3 of Dear White People?

I love that Lionel is being pushed by D'Unte to explore the nuances (and responsibilities) of his sexuality. He educates him about all things HIV (prevention & myths), trans culture, and takes him to an underground sex party...when the costume designer first showed me my glitter thong for that scene, I blacked out.

What’s an invention from TV or movies that you wish existed?

Time travel...duh.

If everything that you did was narrated, whose voice would you want narrating your life?

Please God, Michelle Obama! I beg for Michelle Obama...or Vanessa Vanjie Mateo because...obviously.

Do you have any fun facts about the making of Ballers season 5?

First day on set they informed us newbies, "You will never see or meet Dwayne Johnson." Apparently he's the busiest man in show business. He comes in at the very end of the shooting season to shoot all of his scenes in one week...by himself.

What’s the funniest photo that you have on your phone right now?

I have a photo of myself at 2 years old dressed in a Mr. Rogers t-shirt with belts galore, socks, gloves, vest and beads. My Christian parents should've known what was coming.

What’s next for you?

Really want to work with some more of Hollywood's black creators: Lena Waithe, Issa Rae, Kenya Barris, Lee Daniels, Jordan Peele, and of course, Justin Simien for Season 4 of “Dear White People.” Fingers crossed for Season 4!!! I think D'Unte needs a boyfriend or a husband or a wedding. Too far?

Thanks for taking the time, Griffin! Season 3 of Dear White People is now streaming on Netflix, and Season 5 of Ballers premieres on August 25th on HBO. 

Photo by: Diana King 

[giftofshewbread]

REPENT, The End is Near!

By Lynda Janzen    Published on: May 9, 2021

“Jesus said, ‘But unless you repent, you too will all perish'” (Luke 13:5, NIV).

“If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land” (2 Chronicles 7:14, NIV).

“Devote yourselves to prayer…” (Colossians 4:2). “Pray continually” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). “The end of all things is near. Therefore be alert and of sober mind that you may pray” (1 Peter 4:7).

A few years ago, I gave myself a nickname: Mrs. Jeremiah. It has nothing to do with Rev. Dr. David Jeremiah but everything to do with the Old Testament prophet. When the LORD led me to Bible Prophecy and opened my eyes to what was happening in the world, in light of both O.T. and N.T. prophecy, some of my messages, as Jeremiah’s, weren’t exactly comfortable for people, or for me either. Jeremiah wasn’t exactly popular in his day, and this message today probably won’t win me any popularity contests. But these messages open our eyes to see what is happening in the world so that we will not be caught in the darkness of ignorance of the signs of the times (1 Thess. 5:4).

In the Olivet Discourse (Matthew 24), Jesus prophesied that when the nation of Israel – the fig tree – would blossom once more, it would be a sign that the end was coming near (24:32). Israel roared back into existence on May 14, 1948 – 73 years ago. Psalm 90 tells us a human lifespan is about 70 years – 80 if we are blessed with stamina. Jesus said the generation that saw the re-budding of the ‘fig tree,’ or Israel, would witness all the prophecy of Matthew 24 (24:34). According to God’s Word, then, that would be us!

Let me just pause here to say, if you haven’t read Matthew 24, Mark 13, and Luke 21 lately, go immediately to a Bible near you and do so.

Earlier this week, I had a dream. “Oh boy!! An old woman dreaming dreams … here we go …” Please, just bear with me. Before dropping off to sleep, I had asked the LORD that, if it be His will, to send me a dream about the Rapture and to let me remember it. Well, He did send me a dream, and I remembered it in great detail. And although I’m not prepared to go into all the details of the dream at this time, let me say it sure shook me up and got me thinking about how very close we are to the end of the age. Not that I didn’t have an inkling about the imminence of the Rapture and tribulation before. But, in the vernacular – Hold onto your hats, folks!

The dream illustrated how our modern nations, especially the U.S., are barreling headlong toward destruction. Nations seem to follow, blindly, a minority of political influencers, while the majority sit back meekly doing nothing, saying nothing, or saying very little. We watch as all our time-honored institutions are crumbling before our eyes. Like deer caught in headlights, it is as though we are mesmerized by the audacity of those taking us increasingly to the left, politically. Young people, who aren’t being taught Judeo-Christian values, are screaming for change without understanding where those changes will lead.

And, of course, there are plenty of seasoned politicians who have been trying for years to pull us away from God and all things moral and life-giving, and who are ready to fuel the rebellion with money, encouragement and a platform.

While those of us who are Bible-literate understand what’s happening, there are many who do not.

They surely do not understand that it is all part of God’s Plan for the end of the age … and here’s the kicker … and you’re not going to like this … THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT ANYMORE! Oh, yes, you can pray … and, indeed, I urge you to pray with all your heart for the many who are not saved.

But Christians, please be ready. For the Church Age is coming rapidly to a close, and it is all happening in God’s Will, and God’s Timeline.

The hymn is: IF MY PEOPLE’S HEARTS ARE HUMBLED

1st Verse:

If My people’s hearts are humbled, If they pray and seek My face; If they turn away from evil, I will not withhold My grace. I will hear their prayers from heaven; I will pardon every sin. If My people’s hearts are humbled, I will surely heal their land.

2nd Verse:

Then My eyes will see their sorrow; Then My ears will hear their plea. If My people’s hearts are humbled I will set their nation free. If My people’s hearts are humbled, If they pray and seek My face; If they turn away from evil, I will not withhold My grace.

THE SCRIPTURE READING IS JEREMIAH 14:11-16

“Then the Lord said to me, ‘Do not pray for the well-being of this people. Although they fast, I will not listen to their cry; though they offer burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them. Instead, I will destroy them with the sword, famine and plague.’

“But I said, ‘Alas, Sovereign Lord! The prophets keep telling them, ‘You will not see the sword or suffer famine. Indeed, I will give you lasting peace in this place.’

“Then the Lord said to me, ‘The prophets are prophesying lies in my name. I have not sent them or appointed them or spoken to them. They are prophesying to you false visions, divinations, idolatries and the delusions of their own minds. Therefore this is what the Lord says about the prophets who are prophesying in my name: I did not send them, yet they are saying, ‘No sword or famine will touch this land.’ Those same prophets will perish by sword and famine. And the people they are prophesying to will be thrown out into the streets of Jerusalem because of the famine and sword. There will be no one to bury them, their wives, their sons and their daughters. I will pour out on them the calamity they deserve.”

Let us bow to Almighty God in prayer:

Dearest Heavenly Father,

Your Word in the Book of Jeremiah tells us of a time when You had had enough of wickedness in the land of Judah. Though people sacrificed to You and prayed for You to relent in Your wrath, You knew that only total destruction would be the catalyst to bring them back to You. Father, we are at a time now where, according to Your Holy Word, it looks as though there is no turning back. Our nations are wicked, through and through. They practice the black arts of abortion and sexual depravity. Our scientists are meddling with Your original design, trying to improve on it! Their hubris, LORD God, is beyond imagining.

LORD, today we pray for those who are genuinely Yours, who have surrendered their lives to Jesus, that we will trust in You, in Your promises to protect us and keep us from the Evil One. We pray also for any who might be on the cusp of coming to You, that they will see Your Light of Life and Love very soon and surrender their lives to Jesus Christ. And we pray, Father, that those who are blind to Your holiness and even to Your existence will have a chance to call on Your Name, and so be saved. These things we pray in the sure, strong and Holy Name of Yeshua Ha’Maschiach. Amen.

By God’s own Word, we know there was a beginning to this age, and there is an end, planned by the LORD God Himself, and over which we have no control whatever. Jesus taught us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” Even the Son of God, Himself, prayed that very prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before He died on the cross. “Father, if You are willing, take this cup from Me, yet not My will, but Yours be done.” If we haven’t yet learned this principle in our Christian walk, we need to do so, and do it NOW.

This world is not about us, beloved Christians. It is about God’s glory in His creation. We are His creation, made to reflect back to Him His glory. Jesus did that, and He did it every day of His earthly life. Though Jesus was fully God, He was also fully man. His humanity was not less than our own. Jesus laughed, cried, celebrated, mourned, ate, slept and did all the things human beings do. He knew pain. He knew sorrow. He knew joy and laughter. But all of His life He gave to the Father and did nothing outside of the Will of Almighty God.

So, saying all that, how does it fit with our Scripture verses from Jeremiah?

Well, for one thing, the people of Judah in Jeremiah’s day certainly were NOT living in the Will of the Creator. In the space of just a handful of generations away from King David, the Jews (as well as the Israelites) had turned away from Almighty God, had lusted after pagan gods and their detestable practices. And let me just say here that this present generation, with all science’s monkeying around with the human genome, has likely far surpassed the evil done in Jeremiah’s generation … the evil which brought down God’s wrath on the nations of Judah and Israel.

Many in the Church cite the 2 Chronicles prayer as being a means of saving our nations. I hear pastors invite their congregations to say it with the expectation that God stands ready to hear it and, PRESTO, make all things the way they were. Really? What about the “humble hearts” part? If every person in the world, every man, woman and child, called upon the Name of the LORD, and humbled him- or herself before Him, and turned from their wickedness, I strongly suspect our world would indeed be healed by God’s hand. But I also strongly suspect that the LORD God knew there would be a tipping point, beyond which there was (is) no going back.

The tipping point in Jeremiah’s day was the deceit of the prophets. Jeremiah tells the LORD, “The prophets keep telling them they will not see the sword or suffer famine, and that You, LORD, are going to give them peace in the land.” But the LORD God says, “The prophets are prophesying lies in My Name. I have not sent them or appointed them or spoken to them. They are prophesying to you false visions, divination, idolatries, and the delusions of their own minds.”

Let’s bring that to the present age. One thing we keep hearing constantly these days is, “Fake News!” There is little doubt that politicians lie with straight faces to the cameras and to our faces. They call evil for good and good for evil (Isaiah 5:20). They tell us a global pandemic is so dangerous that we must ruin our national economies to deal with it. There is so much deceit in our world today that it has become almost impossible to know what is real and what isn’t.

False visions are leading us away from the One Source of love and protection human beings have ever had – God! Western nations are worshiping at the altars of demons and false gods once again. For heaven’s sake, there is a sneaker for sale that celebrates Satan and even contains a drop of real human blood!! Really.

Divinations? Well, daily newspapers have been running horoscope columns for almost a century. But much more than that, today we have ‘prognosticators’ of everything under the sun, from weathermen to stockbrokers, even to medical people. So-called ‘experts’ in every field sway your brain daily to buy stuff you don’t need and adopt habits that are bad for your soul. This is done through non-stop advertising.

Idolatries? How about the worship of sports figures and Hollywood ‘stars’? Kids today know way more about movie and sports stars than they do about Jesus Christ. “God? Oh yeah … the sky fairy who grants all your wishes – NOT!” (That was a real post I read on a news website not long ago.)

Delusions of their own minds? How about this one? “There are 382 genders!” or “A man can give birth.” or “Love is love no matter who it is with.”

And what does the LORD God have to say about all this depravity? “I will pour out on them the calamity they deserve.”

Now, this is Old Testament. Jesus went to the cross so that we wouldn’t end up with the calamity we deserve … BUT ONLY IF WE REPENT, TURN FROM OUR INIQUITY, AND LIVE THE REST OF OUR LIVES FOR AND IN HIM. What percentage of the world’s people have actually done this?

Can the LORD bring revival at this late date? Of course. The question is: How many would turn to Him? A few million? There are seven, almost eight billion people on the planet today. Believers, we are way past the tipping point. It is a great tribute to Our God that His patience hasn’t run out yet. As Apostle Peter says, “People will say, ‘Where is this coming He promised? Ever since our ancestors died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation.'”

“But do not forget this one thing, dearest friends: With the LORD a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like a day. The LORD is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. Instead He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. But the day of the LORD will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare” (2 Peter 3:4, 8-10)

There is an end, my friends. I don’t write this to scare you but to make you see that it is inevitable and that you have no control over it. It is the LORD God’s domain. Therefore, trust in Him. Do His Will. Love Him, and keep His commands, and there will never ever be a need to fear anything. Jesus has said, “Since you have kept My command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come on the whole world to test the inhabitants of the earth” (Revelation 3:10).

Repent! The end IS near! Hallelujah, Amen.

Heavenly Father: All glory and praise to You for loving us so much that You sent Your One and Only Son to earth to redeem us from original sin, open the gates of eternal life, and restore all things. Please open hearts and minds today, Father, to the urgency of claiming Christ as our Saviour. This we pray through Him, Yeshua Ha’Maschiach, our LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.

This devotional, based on God’s Holy Word, was written by Lynda Janzen, Kincardine, ON Canada, with the inspiration of God’s own Holy Spirit. All glory to God.

If anyone reading this email has not yet received Jesus as their Saviour, but God has touched your heart by His Holy Word, please email me (amadea649@gmail.com) or find a Bible-believing local church and ask the Pastor what you must do to be saved in Grace. In the meantime, please consider the ABCs of Salvation:

Salvation as simple as ABC:

A: Admit that you are a sinner. This is where Godly sorrow leads to genuine repentance for sinning against a righteous God, and there is a change of heart; we change our mind, and God changes our hearts and regenerates us from the inside out.

Romans 3:10 – “As it is written: ‘There is no one righteous, not even one.'”

Romans 3:23 – “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

Romans 6:23 – “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Ephesians 2:8-9 – “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith —and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.”

B: Believe in your heart that Jesus Christ died for your sins, was buried, and that God raised Jesus from the dead. This is trusting with all of your heart that Jesus Christ is who he said he was.

Romans 10:9-10 – “That if you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved.”

John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

C: Call upon the name of the Lord. Every single person who ever lived since Adam will bend their knee and confess with their mouth that Jesus Christ is Lord, the Lord of lords and the King of kings.

Romans 14:11 – “It is written: ‘As surely as I live, says the Lord, every knee will bow before me; every tongue will confess to God.'”

Romans 10:13 – “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

[justforbooks]

Are you watching Mad Men? You have not been getting a truly balanced view of what it was like to be gay in advertising in that time period.

I was there, as a junior writer, then a senior writer, then a group head through the 1950s, and then a creative director in the 1960s. I went on to become one of the highest-paid creatives in the world through the ‘70s and ‘80s.

I beg to differ on the show’s representation of the single gay character, Salvatore, who was fired by the fictional ad agency for being more open about his sexuality. According to the show’s creator, Matthew Weiner, as quoted in The Advocate, “I felt it was an expression of the times that he couldn’t work there anymore. It’s the ultimate case of sexual harassment.”

But there were plenty of gays who, like me, didn’t bother to stay in the closet, succeeded, and thrived in this tough world.

Yes, some agencies were like the one where Don Draper works. But these stuffy, old-line agencies were the big ones — BBDO, J. Walter Thompson, Leo Burnett — not agencies like Draper’s. They were top-heavy with upper-level management from Ivy League schools; they were agencies where women could only be secretaries or work in what was called the “Women’s Division” (food, fashion, and cosmetics). In those kinds of agencies, if you were gay, you were probably closeted, like that poor character on Mad Men. But more likely, if you were gay, you didn’t stay long at such an agency, as many of the smaller agencies were quite different — fun agencies to work for, where being gay was not an issue.

The fact that no one at the Mad Men agency changes jobs is very unreal. In the advertising world I knew, you rarely worked anywhere more than two years, as other agencies wanted you for your knowhow on whatever account you had been working on. And your salary soared. You almost doubled your salary each time you moved. I went from $95 a week when I started at Kenyon and Eckhardt to something over $22,000 a year at Hockaday Associates in four agency moves. In the early 1960s that was good money. I spent two years at BBDO and only about a year at J. Walter Thompson, and voilà! Everybody did it. Why didn’t Salvatore?

After I left BBDO, a friend told me he’d overheard comments about me in the elevator, along the lines of, “So, they were in a lot of trouble here when the queer that was writing all the great stuff left. But then they found another queer who could write just as fancifully.”

When I finally hit Hockaday Associates, a small agency specializing in high-end fashion, furniture, cosmetics, and the like, it was a different world.

All the art directors were gay, and all the account executives were women. The agency president was in fact a Miss Hockaday, and she had her own take on the 1960s. Everyone really dressed to the nines.  Everyone was good-looking, and there was wall-to-wall green carpeting in the foyer. A lady with a cart served tea every afternoon at 4 o’clock. Clients came in and were overwhelmed by the chic and wonder of it all. We were famous in the advertising world because Miss Hockaday dropped the Elizabeth Arden account.  After Miss Arden kept her waiting for an hour for a meeting, Miss Hockaday swept in and said, “Miss Arden, you are a tyrant. We do not want to have this account,” and swept out.

Can we please have more scenes like this on Mad Men?

The gay men on staff knew everything there was to know at the time about clothes, interior décor, you name it.  I learned a lot. This was the early 1960s; being witty was important then. And let’s face it: This was New York, where being gay was hardly a hidden-away phenomenon. In Greenwich Village the gay men were lined up every night along the western side of Washington Square. They sat and lounged against the low pipe railings there, which were called “the Meat Rack.” You could drop in at Mary’s on Eighth Street or go dancing at the Cherry Lane bar (men did the two-step there, clasped in each other’s arms), right next door to the Cherry Lane theater. There was a large sign by the door: “Out of Bounds to Military Personnel.” If you were gay in New York, you didn’t need to run around hiding it.

And there were plenty of places in the advertising world where you could work and it just didn’t matter. What outsiders little realized was the tightrope danger of the advertising industry. There was not a day you went to work that you couldn’t get fired, regardless of whether you were straight or day. If the client vamoosed, the entire group servicing that client was fired. Immediately, to not waste salaries. You deserved “flight pay,” we called it, like the pilots in the Air Force. Employees who could hang onto those slippery, shifting clients were highly valued. I was one of those employees. And I didn’t care who knew I was gay. I was myself. Lots of ladies in the office told me that their closeted gay friends would sigh, “If only I could be as openly gay as Leddick.”

And then I went to Grey Advertising...

I always said that everything I was or ever hoped to be in advertising I owed to Revlon. I was hired as the Worldwide Creative Director of Revlon at Grey Advertising in the mid-1960s. Grey Advertising was huge, the largest agency in the U.S. It was not like stuffy BBDO and other biggies. It was like Hollywood. It had scale, it had dough, and it was heartless. Revlon was the same thing, but only more glamorous, with more money, and heartless in their way, but very loyal to those they valued.

I was never “in” the closet, and actually, I enjoyed making all those white, heterosexual, tough guys face up to the fact they had to have me in that job, because Revlon liked me; they liked a creative director who was taller, blonder, and better-dressed than anyone else in their meetings.  When they screamed and cussed and bellowed in their meetings, I would say, “Keep this up and I will lose my enthusiasm.”

And during a tense meeting, when I took out my lip balm, my crew knew the meeting was over.

Every year on Advertising Age‘s “worst clients list,” Revlon was always voted the number-one worst client in the United States. And I didn’t care, because Revlon liked me, and they liked me for what I could do.

In meetings with Revlon, a head honcho would be chewing out the president of Grey Advertising, saying things like, “You guys are useless. You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re a waste of time. The only reason you have this account is him!“ And they would point to me. Gee, it felt great. They were loyal to those who truly were on their team.

At one point, my staff went on strike and told management that it was either me or them. They didn’t want to work for me anymore. The head account executive called Revlon while they sat in front of his desk in assembled mutiny. He spoke briefly to the client and hung up. He said, “They like David. You’re all fired.” I only found out about this later.

Revlon spent $34 million a year on advertising. They were a big deal. That’s $246 million in today’s dollars, and the agency got 17 percent. We had enormous budgets and tremendous creative freedom, to an extent that was never seen again. One of my favorite creations was this commercial for Revlon’s Jontue fragrance.

Some people call it “groundbreaking” and “iconic.” I just thought it was a lot of fun.

Their world included major gays like Mr. Kenneth the hairdresser, Bill Blass the designer, and Mr. John the hat designer. And Halston, who went from hats to being a major design name. Believe me, none of those guys did anything but roar around town looking swell.  One of my female writers said, “Some people think homosexuality is a crime. And some people seem to think it’s a sin. But you, David, seem to think it’s a luxury.” Well, Mick Jagger wasn’t out there acting very butch, nor was David Bowie and a host of other entertainers. This was the ‘60s, which I have always thought prefigured our 21st century.

And I think the gay advertising world of the ‘60s that serviced the major beauty and fashion clients like Revlon anticipated the gay liberation that is still in full-swing today. These were big people handling money and taking big chances. They didn’t have time to care about what other people did in bed. They only cared about what you did in the office. It was refreshing, liberating, tough, and unprejudiced. They were only prejudiced against the untalented, and a little bit against those who were not good-looking and didn’t know how to dress.

Revlon was the megastar of the cosmetics industry. It was headed by Charles Revson, whose head creative director at Revlon (and my counterpart) was Kay Daly, the highest-paid woman in the U.S. (hint, hint, Mad Men writers). She was paid $100,000 a year back then, a stupefying salary when writers started at perhaps $9,000 a year. My own observation is that as women became more and more liberated, attitudes toward gays became more liberated, too. Women in business simply did not care. The presence of gay men in the office did not make them examine their own inner sexual feelings as it did straight men.

Revlon was exemplary for this — very macho, but not in the Ivy League, Brooks Brothers tradition. Revlon was much more European, and they realized that they were in a woman’s business. Kay Daly led us to create the Revlon woman: single, beautiful, with a good job, and certainly not a virgin. She was welcomed by millions of women. Headlines like “Fire and Ice” and “Jungle Peach” let us all know something sexy was going on.

C’mon, Mad Men, bring us more juicy stuff like this, please!

In many ways it was also very American: If you can do it, you can be it. As a French friend recently said to me while visiting me in Miami Beach, “The great thing here is that you feel anything is possible.” And so it was, back then, in many parts of the Mad, Mad advertising world. But it wasn’t all just Mad men. Much of it looked ahead to the world we are finally beginning to find ourselves in now. We were anticipating the 21st century about half a century before it arrived.

Every year I negotiated a new contract, and toward the end I was only working 32 weeks a year, finally. When the management at Grey asked Revlon if this would be OK, they said, “As long as he’s here when we need him.” I lived in Paris part of the time and would fly into New York on the Concorde for meetings late in the morning and go back the same night on the 7 o’clock Air France flight.

That was glamour. The fact that I was gay meant nothing and never came up.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water...

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[lucindarobinsonvevo]

The blake mysteries: my collected thoughts

The things I did like:

The acting. I’ve seen a few people dismiss the acting but I didn’t take issue with it.

More matthew baeby

No canon malice

Peter Crowe! Hes so adorable, i get the hype with him now.

Matthew being angry in his grief. #relatable

Alice and Peter in the morgue, i thought that scene was so well done

Most of the locations are very well chosen

Finally, a good old fashioned serial killer.

Learning more about danny, however tangentially.

Not having to watch charlie and danny fight over rose

Jean sacrificing her hat for science

I dont know if ive mentioned this before but matthew lawson is the best and i love him

Matthew standing up for a bullied kid with abusive parents?! Yes please.

Jean’s reason for wanting to help is actually that she really wants to help people. Love that.

I liked the reveal of the editor as the child orphaned in the fire, id forgotten about it and i had to sit back and be like ‘damn, we do forget about things as soon as they leave our screens dont we?’

Cec. always.

Things i didn’t like

The twist. It feels kinda...rushed? Maybe I just missed it but the whole thing seems to come together in a matter of seconds.

The redesigned station. Nothing personal im just super attached to the old design but the idea of matthew having it changed after ned died there would be interesting to explore.

The first person shots especially the one where matthew interacts with the camera like we’re playing a first person detective game. (id pay good money for an actual blake video game tho, even a point and click one. Just in case the video game gods happen to be listening)

Matthew smoking a pipe, but that’s more of a horny thing than anything else.

Things im meh about:

Jean as a councillor.

Amy Parks

The action sequence with the needle

Over all:

Had the series continued, I probably wouldn’t have kept watching but it’s not really a story thing so much as it’s a deep rooted hatred for all things 60s. I’m a poodle skirt lesbian and to see the show move away from that...it makes me sad.

Now to actually be serious for once:  I am glad I saw this film, and I do think a lot of my putting it off for so long was a fear of how I’d feel knowing there was no blake content left for me to consume. It’s been such a huge part of my life for so long that not having anything left to look forward too is daunting. I imagine this is the grieving process everyone else went through a few months ago.

I do think channel 7 shouldn’t have cancelled the show, even if it’s no longer for me (which is fine, I don’t think Blake prime was really for me either I just happened to like it by fluke). I think with more time to settle into the characters, the Blake Mysteries really could have been something quite different to the other mystery shows of today.

If nothing else, it went out with a bag rather than a whimper. One lone telemovie, standing defiant against cancellation amidst a sea of crime shows who were shut down after their stars faced similar accusations and I think that’s pretty special.

And finally, I just want to apologize to @blinkingcursor15. You’ve always been very nice to me even though you probably didn’t need to be. I’m trying to change, but I still make mistakes and say things that I know are jokes, or I don’t think anyone will listen too and they hurt people. I’m really sorry.  Please don’t let your opinion of me, whatever that may be, colour your opinion of everyone else in this fandom. Mostly, theyre good people whose only crime is being stuck with someone who runs their mouth without thinking.

You’ve been a good sport in this fandom. It’s not every day someone involved with something as big and impressive as blake takes the time to read the posts of someone with the url ‘bisexualcharliedavis’. Thank you, I’m glad you turned out to not be bees in a trench coat.

And that’s all she wrote. If you fellas need me, I’ll be watching my favourite episodes with a box of tissues.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

War of Attrition: Chapter 19

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. You and Bucky take steps to protect yourselves, which leads you back to New York. Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of: past torture, death, blood, weapons. Allusions to PTSD. Word Count: ~4,557 A/N: Next Chapter will probably start the events of CA:CW. Also, I’ll probably be busy starting to write things for Spooktober. There will likely be a special taglist for Spooktober fics that will tag you in things including but not limited to Monster!Character one shots, A Night to Remember, and A Dance with the Devil. Keep an eye out for it!

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“Ready to go?” he asked a moment later as he stepped up beside you. His blue-grey eyes searched your face for any flicker of emotion that would set off warning bells, but for the first time in a long time, your head wasn’t a complete mess. Or, at least, you had one burden among hundreds taken from your shoulders.

“Yeah, Buck. Let’s go home.”

“I have the analysis you requested, Misses Barnes.”

You glanced up from the drone you’d been working on. Installing the new targeting algorithm was taking some time, but it would hopefully ensure they’d never fire with deadly force on any human... though the same could not be said for aliens and robots. Factoring in variables for mutants and other enhanced individuals had been especially tricky, but you’d enjoyed tackling the challenge with a single-minded purpose.

The screen in front of you was slowly rolling through information, finally ending on a summary:

Matthew Michael Murdock.

Hell’s Kitchen; New York, New York. United States of America.

Lawyer Daredevil.

You stared at the screen for a second, taking in his face in the professional and candid photos alike. It only took a glance at the first picture to notice he was blind. “That would explain the mask...” you muttered as a couple low-quality shots of Murdock with a scarf tied over the top of his head flicked across the screen. “You sure about this, Al?” you asked the air around you. A frown crinkled your brow. It wasn’t exactly easy to identify the blind lawyer as the nearly superhuman vigilante.

“Quite, madam. I believe Mister Murdock is one of the only people on the planet with the correct disposition, life experience, and skills required to assist you. He is, put plainly, your best option.”

That only made you frown harder at his picture, though. Talking to him- going to New York- it was a huge risk. You were so lost in thoughts you nearly missed Bucky walking into your workspace, but managed to notice his presence before you accidentally fried him to a crisp on reflex.

“Did Alfred get a hit?” he asked, voice hoarse and deep from having just woken up. You glanced at the clock, nearly wincing when it showed the time as 4:38 AM. He walked up behind you, wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and placed his chin on the top of your head.

You hummed an affirmative, though your frown didn’t abate. After a second, you could practically feel Bucky grimace, too. “New York...” he muttered, obviously perceiving the same issues as you.

New York was dangerous. It was where Hydra had recaptured you once before. Tony Stark lived there. The population was huge, which meant it was easier for people to blend in... and that it was all the more likely that you’d be recognized. Undoubtedly anyone looking for you would be keeping a close eye on the city.

“Even with possible dangers taken into consideration, I believe Mister Murdock will be the most likely to assist us,” Alfred insisted. You wondered briefly if he was capable of being upset with your and Bucky’s apparent lack of faith in his assessment. You’d have to check later and possibly apologize.

“If you’re sure, Al,” you said after a long minute. Bucky sighed deeply and squeezed you gently and you didn’t have to look at him to know he was discontent with the idea.

“Quite, ma’am.”

“Then ready travel plans for New York, please,” you said somewhat reluctantly. You reminded yourself that trusting Al was tantamount to trusting only your own best decision making skills, as you were the one that had designed the artificial intelligence in the first place.

You turned in the old rickety computer chair and Bucky loosened his arms enough to move, taking a small step back and straightening a bit. His eyes were stormy, concern obvious even with the dark circles under his eyes. “Did I wake you up?” you asked quietly as you reached up to run your thumb over his cheek. He leaned into the touch, eyes closing briefly at the light contact, then shook his head. “Nightmare?” you guessed with a frown.

A shrug, then, “Dunno.... Can’t remember. Come back to bed?” he murmured, extending a hand out towards you.

You smiled softly, ignoring the fact that you couldn’t come “back” to bed seeing as you hadn’t been there in the first place, and dropped your hand from his face to take his offered hand, standing with only slightly wobbly legs. You’d been sitting for... ten hours? It never felt like long when you got to work, but somehow the time always managed to flash by.

Time passing by in a blur hadn’t changed, even without the icy clutches of cryofreeze to speed the process along.

You expected Bucky to just walk into the other room with you, but he picked you up with ease and practically threw you over his shoulder. You smiled, surprised, and muffled your huff of laughter in your hand. Whatever had woken him up (it might have even been Alfred, telling him to come collect you), it definitely wasn’t a bad night. This was just sleepy, possessive Bucky, not unlike how he was before... everything.

You found yourself on the mattress on the floor not five seconds later, landing gently, as Bucky had been careful to lower you slowly before letting you fall the last few inches.

He was beside you in an instant, reeling you into his chest with one arm while the other grabbed the sleeping bag you used as a blanket and pulled it over both of you. It was just big enough to cover you two like this, though you were pretty sure Bucky’s feet poked out the end and over the bottom of the mattress (not that he ever complained).

“Goodnight, Buck,” you whispered even as you began falling asleep, more tired than you realized now that you weren’t in front of your bright monitors.

“Night, Doll,” came the immediate, nearly-incomprehensible response from your practically asleep husband. You smiled and let yourself relax in his arms. Like this, it was easy to ignore the anxiety of knowing that you’d have to go to New York tomorrow.

You fell asleep to the sound of Bucky’s soft snores.

Curvy cars, posters about the war, dames in modest dresses, and fellas in hats.

You blinked and the past vanished like fog chased away by the sun, revealing the truth- the present- underneath.

“That used to be a butcher shop,” you murmured, nodding your head towards a skeevy-looking pawn shop with bars over the windows.

Bucky paused his subtle scouting long enough to give it a glance before his eyes returned to rooftops and alleys and shadowed doorways. “You went to Manhattan a lot?” he asked quietly.

You pressed even closer to his side as a small group passed. You’d checked them for weapons the moment they’d turned the corner, but that still didn’t stop you from being wary around strangers. People didn’t need guns to be dangerous. As if sensing your distress Bucky’s arm went around your shoulder, leaving his left arm free if he needed it.

“Sometimes,” you admitted as soon as they were out of earshot. “I lived all over New York at some point or another. Most orphanages couldn’t get rid of me soon enough and no one in their right mind was adopting during the depression. It was better to explore the city and pickpocket greenbacks from rich jerks than sit in the orphanage and listen to my stomach rumble.”

Bucky stopped looking at the shadowy corners of Hell’s Kitchen at that, nearly slowing down as he processed what you said. “You... remember that?” His brows were pulled up ever so slightly in the middle and you fought the urge to look away. That was a pitying look if you ever saw one.

As if you had any right to pity anymore.

“More or less. I filled in the gaps the records left,” you admitted. It was almost a relief that the building you needed finally came into view as you and Bucky turned the corner. “Show time, sweetheart,” you said with what you hoped was a bracing smile as you stood on your toes and placed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

Judging from the conflicted look he gave you, you weren’t completely successful.

The door was between a residential building’s entrance and an old electronics repair place. The little gold and black placard on the red painted wall could easily be overlooked, but it was exactly what you were looking for.

“Nelson and Murdock,” Bucky murmured, giving it and the building a cursory once over. 

You opened the grating-covered door and led the way inside and neither you nor Bucky relaxed in the slightest until the door clicked shut behind you.

Four flights later you were greeted by gold lettering, “Nelson and Murdock Attorneys at Law.” You knocked on the door and opened it quietly when a voice on the other side called “Please come in, it’s open!”

A pretty, tiny blonde with blue eyes was sitting at the desk, smiling at you and Bucky politely.

“Hi, uh-” She fumbled a bit with the papers on her desk. Her cheeks tinged pink and you could tell she was growing more flustered by the second. “Sorry, I’m still not quite used to us having clients and- Did you have an appointment or are you here to-”

“They’re here for me, Karen. My two o’clock.”

All three of you looked up at the newcomer. Matt Murdock stood in the doorway, tense but projecting a sense of calm and control, likely to ensure the woman- Karen- didn’t catch on to the danger you and Bucky posed.

“Oh!” she smiled nervously and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She glanced at the old clock on the wall and then nodded. “I was so busy I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. Are you ready for them?” She directed the last question at Murdock, who took the entire situation as smoothly as he could.

You could see him work it through in his head: Get the threats away from civilians. Don’t make a move before you ascertain the situation.

“Yes, of course. Please, come in,” he said, stepping aside and sweeping an arm wide and gesturing both of you into the room.

You and Bucky gave Karen polite smiles and stepped quickly inside. The door shut softly behind you, but neither you nor Bucky missed the lock sliding into place.

“Please; the blinds, if you would,” Murdock said, voice only slightly strained as he maneuvered the room as though he had 20/20 vision.

You moved over to the window that looked out into the waiting room and flicked the blinds closed, turning them down until no one could see in or out of the room. Bucky and Murdock were already seated and, for all intents and purposes, staring balefully at each other by the time you took your seat.

Murdock’s jaw worked dangerously for a moment before he finally collected himself to speak. “I don’t know who or what you are but if you try to hurt-”

“We’re not here to hurt anyone. We don’t want to hurt anyone.” You felt a little bad for cutting him off, but he had to believe that before you could get anywhere. Your lips quirked up into a tiny sardonic smile. “I also find it a little hard to believe that you don’t already at least suspect who we are. We know who you are, after all.”

“Is that a threat?” Murdock responded instantly, and you kicked yourself for your poor phrasing and timing.

Bucky frowned and you could tell it was taking all of his attention to appear as anything but an aggressor. “No, but it is why we’re here.” 

You reached into your pocket and froze when Murdock practically teleported out of his chair and lunged toward you. Bucky’s hand shot out and stopped his hand midair and you stared at the two of them, tension coiling your muscles tightly. “Please, it’s not a weapon. It’s a device I created for you to use.”

Murdock didn’t back down and you could tell he was straining against Bucky’s cybernetic arm. Bucky was far stronger, but he’d stayed in his seat and, as such, had to work harder than he otherwise would have had to keep Murdock at bay. “What kind of device?” he spat, just quietly enough that you knew Karen and his associate- Nelson- wouldn’t hear.

“I call it RAR: Responsive Archive Reader. It will allow you to access every file we’ve managed to collect on ourselves. On... our past. On what we’ve done. What was done to us,” you nearly trailed off, but being able to talk about your tech brought you back. “Everything is sorted and tagged by date, organization, place, and just about anything else you could think of. It can either read it out to you or its surface can change to spell it out in braille. You can even ask it to look up certain information,” you said, voice regaining some of its confidence the longer you talked.

At that, Murdock finally stopped trying to get at you and took a half step back. “Your files. So you are...” he trailed off, as though he was unwilling to say those cursed names.

“The Winter Soldiers” hung unspoken in the air.

You weren’t willing to say them, either. Even after sweeping the building for bugs as you came in, it was too dangerous. “Yes,” Bucky confirmed quietly. 

There was a long pause where Murdock didn’t move. If you didn’t watch his chest closely you would have questioned if he was even breathing. “Why come to me?” he asked finally, still not sitting back down.

You gripped the cell phone-sized piece of tech in your hand and frowned, finally unable to look at him.

“Because we’re hoping you’ll help us,” Bucky said after a long pause.

Murdock frowned and canted his head ever so slightly to the side, which immediately piqued your interest, but you kept your mouth shut. “Before I decide what I want to do, you have to answer some questions for me.”

You and Bucky glanced at each other and he nodded imperceptibly. You both looked back and Murdock, but it was you who spoke up. “That’s fair. Go ahead.”

“Are you a danger to my friends and clients?”

Ah, shit. One of the toughest questions right out the gate.

But if your suspicions were correct, lying would get you nowhere. “Yes. We’re a danger to everyone, including ourselves.”

“But we don’t want to be,” Bucky added. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was frowning or that he was reaching for your hand. Your hands met halfway and your fingers laced together. It was Bucky’s left hand and, as you suspected, Murdock seemed able to track the movement more easily than he had any right to.

Murdock’s frown stayed firmly in place. “You know who I am? What I do?”

“Yes,” you responded instantly.

“Do you intend to blackmail me using that information?” he asked just as quickly.

“No,” Bucky rasped.

“Why me?”

“Because of what you do,” you said quietly.

“You mean being an attorney?” he asked, brow creasing just a little more.

You winced, knowing what he was hedging around. “Both.”

“Taking this case will put me in danger.”

It wasn’t a question, but you took it like one. “Almost indefinitely.” 

He took a moment to consider that, then, “Do you regret everything you’ve done the last seventy years?”

“Yes,” Bucky responded instantly, just as you said-

“No.”

Bucky turned to stare at you and Murdock tilted his ear a little more in your direction. “Care to elaborate?” he said just a bit flatly, menace creeping back into his voice.

“I don’t regret fighting against the people who tried to control me whenever I got the chance. I don’t regret trying to escape. I don’t regret forming a bond with Natalia Romanoff, or trying to save Mila Hitzvig and Ran Shen. I don’t regret stopping Hydra’s takeover of SHIELD or saving people in Sokovia. There’s more, but...” you frowned as your brain tried to conjure up more examples and failed. “I can’t... my brain doesn’t always cooperate. I’m sorry.” Bucky’s hand squeezed yours gently.

“I spoke without thinkin’. She’s right. There are things I don’t regret doin’ these last seventy years, though they’re by ‘n’ large the outliers,” Bucky agreed quietly, giving you a fond look before he turned a hard gaze on Murdock, who you knew Bucky still saw as a threat.

He gave you and Bucky a moment before forging onward. “Why not contact Rogers or Romanoff? Surely they’d be willing to help.”

You grimaced and knew Bucky’s face had probably done something similar. “Lotsa reasons,” Bucky began in a wary voice. “Some’a which will be answered if you listen to my girl’s device. The main reason is that contacting them brings in the rest of the Avengers...”

“And we’re poised to ruin everything Steve and Tasha have built for themselves,” you finished.

“Are you protecting them or yourselves?” Murdock asked shrewdly.

You and Bucky both had to fight back a wince. “Honestly? Probably both,” you admitted quietly.

He nodded as though that had answered a very pressing question. “And what are you hoping to gain from hiring me?”

You and Bucky exchanged a look. “We’re hopin’ it won’t come to you havin’ to do anything,” Bucky said quietly.

Murdock stared at him as though waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, you explained, “This is a doomsday protocol, of sorts. It’s our hope to just... hide. From everyone. Everything. Your services would only be needed if someone finally captures us. That someone being a government.”

“And if I decide I don’t want to help admitted murderers?” Murdock asked after a second. He shifted to his other foot, obviously ready for a fight.

You shrugged. “Then you throw RAR into the Hudson and pretend you never saw us.”

“That’s it?” he asked skeptically.

“That’s it,” Bucky confirmed.

A longer pause this time, then, “And if I try to bring you in? Alert the authorities?”

“We incapacitate you and anyone else who tries to stop us, then escape,” you said stonily. You prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

But Murdock only nodded again, looking a little grim. “I’m going to be honest- I don’t feel comfortable taking this case unless I know more.”

You tried to smile, but you knew it was a grimace. “All yours, Mister Murdock,” you said as you slid RAR across his desk. You took it as a good sign that he picked it up without hesitation. “You can tell it to turn on and off by saying ‘RAR’ and then ‘on’ and ‘off’ and tell it to look for specific tags by saying ‘RAR conduct search’ and then tell it what you want it to search. Switch between reading modes by saying ‘braille’ and ‘voice’. It’s quite intuitive, really.”

He palmed the device carefully as though searching for hidden traps or weapons but seemed to ultimately decide it was safe because he pocketed it a second later, still looking serious. “And how do I contact you if I decide to take the case?”

You blinked dumbly at him and it was Bucky who recovered first. “You can’t contact us, Murdock. It’s too dangerous. For all of us.”

Murdock raised an eyebrow at that. “Then how will you know if I’ll take your case?”

“We won’t,” you answered quietly.

“But we hope that you do,” Bucky added just as quietly but with an earnestness that had you squeezing his hand.

Murdock leaned back in his chair, brow furrowed. You expected him to say something, but he remained quiet for a long time- long enough for both you and Bucky to have to fight the urge to shift in your seats. “Why me?” he asked finally and just a little accusatorially.

Bucky blew out a long breath at that and sank back in his chair, having already thrown in the towel on this particular question. He did, however, give your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Because you’re our best option.”

Murdock only frowned deeper and leaned forward. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

You sighed and took a moment to collect your thoughts, annoyed at how long it took you to find the right words. Being out and in the open like this was really getting to you. “You’re good. As in, a good person. One of the best. Could give Rogers a run for his money. I looked into your work. Your hobby, too.” Murdock’s face darkened a bit at the allusion to his other identity, but you barreled on. “Our situation isn’t normal. Neither is yours. If your heart is even half as big as I think it is- or if you care about the truth at all- then you’re the only person in the world that will give us a chance... without Steve Rogers backing us up or Natasha Romanoff threatening you.”

It was a weak attempt at a joke and, as expected, Murdock’s lips didn’t so much as twitch. He did, however, seem to find your answer acceptable. “So what? I’m just supposed to build a case? Without talking to either of you? And that’s assuming I take the case to begin with.”

You nodded to his pocket, forgetting he couldn’t see you (though you had a feeling he “saw” more than he let on). “It’s all on that archive. Everything we can remember. Everything we’ve scrapped together from files and data. It’s a more reliable source than we are most days. Things- the memories- they fade in and out.”

“But the things on that drive- they’re things we’ve looked into. Things we both remember. Should be the most complete and accurate file on us anywhere. I’d recommend keepin’ it close,” Bucky said gravely.

Murdock nodded at that, hand making an aborted motion to his chest pocket before he returned his hands to his desk and fiddled idly with a pen (that you had no doubt he’d use as a weapon the moment the need arose). “I’ll review the file as soon as I can. Is there... anything else?” he seemed slightly off kilter, not that you could blame him. Two world renowned assassins had just sauntered into his office and asked him to defend them in court, after all.

“No, that’s ever-” you froze when Bucky gave your hand an urgent squeeze. You glanced over at him and he gave you an expectant look that sent you thinking. Then it hit you. “Oh!” you said quietly, lips twitching up at Bucky’s smitten half smile. “You just received a large anonymous donation to your firm. I suggest using it to fix this place up a little bit... or perhaps getting an air conditioning unit. It’s going to get hot soon.”

That, however, made Murdock prickle like a porcupine, but Bucky was already heading him off at the pass. “It’s clean money, Murdock. My girl made it from patenting some crazy energy efficient electric engine or something like that.”

“But I don’t even know if I’ll take your case yet,” he argued stubbornly.

You peered at him, gaze too old for your face. “No, but you and your partner do good work here. I’ve read about your cases. It’s a worthy investment of my money.”

Murdock still looked dubious, but he decided to let the subject drop. “Then our business is concluded?”

You and Bucky stood at the same time, as slowly and non-threateningly as you could, but Murdock still practically jumped to his feet. “Yes, Mister Murdock. We’ll be on our way.” You stared at him, hawk-like, for any sign that he’d try to stop you. He hesitated briefly before walking past both of you to open the door. Bucky tugged you close to his side as you walked out. You paused to give the secretary- who was looking at you and Bucky with a little bit of confusion- a wave which she returned with barely concealed surprise and a tentative smile.

You were almost out of their small office when the door opposite Murdock’s opened and a man with shaggy blond hair and an infectious smile (which almost immediately turned into something more professional upon seeing you and Bucky) walked out.

“Oh! You must be Matt’s two o’clock,” he said brightly, though you could see the small flash of greed in his eyes. “I trust your meeting went well and you’ll be using our services mister and misses...?” he trailed off, looking between you, Murdock, and Karen inquisitively.

Foggy Nelson. Murdock’s business partner. Good heart, but perhaps more practical than Murdock, which often comes off as unsavory priorities... namely, making money.

A quick glance behind you told you Murdock was as tightly wound as a spring. You turned what you hoped was a melancholy smile on Nelson. “I’m afraid Mister Murdock declined our case. We... didn’t see eye to eye on some issues,” you said softly. It was better this way- his coworkers wouldn’t pester him about your case.

But Nelson looked at Murdock with such disbelief and exasperation that you wondered if you’d made a mistake.

“We can’t pay anyway,” Bucky added smoothly.

At that, Nelson’s face turned the kind of fake polite that was usually only mastered by the most obnoxious, self-absorbed people.

“I see. Well then I’m very sorry Nelson and Murdock won’t be able to assist you. Please have a nice day.”

The secretary was looking between the four of you with confusion, but Murdock finally relaxed ever so slightly as Nelson herded you out.

“Have a nice day!” Nelson called. Just before the door shut you looked over your shoulder and saw Murdock facing in your direction, head turned slightly to the side.

You smiled and waited until you were a few steps away before saying softly, “Thank you for your time, Mister Murdock. Take care,” knowing full well he’d hear you.

It wasn’t until you were a few blocks away that Bucky spoke. “Think it’s done yet?” he asked as you turned the corner and ghosted between other New Yorkers going about their busy days.

You frowned as you thought about it. “Probably.” Admitting it made anxiety coil low and deadly in your stomach. As if sensing the shift in your thoughts, Bucky threw his arm around your shoulder and drew you close to his side, taking his eyes off his surroundings only long enough to press a kiss to your temple.

“Better hurry back, then. I’m... eager to know the truth, either way. Y’know?” he murmured.

You smiled up at him and your breath caught in your throat. He looked... good. Two years since you both escaped Hydra. Two years out of cryo. Two years together, healing. Eating actual food. Sleeping on a real mattress.

The change had been so gradual that you hadn’t noticed. It had taken being in New York again for you to really look at him.

Your smile was more genuine than it had been in a long time as you leaned up and pecked a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, Buck. I do.”

Next Chapter

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[red-and-blue-sewer-circus-arc]

CHANGING FACES

Arnie Miller's day started poorly and went downhill fast.

After he finished cleaning and shaving he made himself a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast and watched half an hour of the news. Nothing happy going on that he could see and one of his acquaintances had been violently mutilated. Matthew Sechrist was dead. Maddy the Clown was deceased, and not by natural causes.

For now, it was time to get ready, so he got himself off the sofa, scarfed down the last of his eggs, he put on his war paint: Titanium white face and a big blue curly haired wig: blue triangles under his eyes and above them as well, a bright red smile and blue dimples to accent it. Finally, of course, the red nose. Next came his regalia: a loose, gigantic white outfit with green polka dots, and an orange tie with matching green spots; two purple shoes, size 32, and a top hat that was a perfect match for his oversized tie.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But I saw a clown with almost the same face over near the merry-go-round." Lou said the words with a false casual voice.

"Excuse me?" There was nothing mild in Arnie's voice. Clown faces were serious business. Every clown tried to look unique. Hell, there had been lawsuits over faces that were too similar and Arnie didn't much want to get involved in one of those. His face was close to one that had been used back in the sixties. He'd seen the clown as a kid and been stuck with that face in his mind, because the guy had left such an impression on him. It wasn't like he'd stolen the design: he'd just borrowed heavily from it. Besides, he remembered hearing the clown and his whole troupe had died a few months later in a bad fire.

By the time Arnie found the other clown, the fair had opened. The man was dressed in a bright red coat and suit, with enough sequins to just about blind a person. Unlike a lot of clowns, his outfit looked custom tailored to fit his tall, lean body. The outfit looked as if it had just been made and was finished off with a matching top hat and well polished dress shoes, complete with dark red spats. He was, without a doubt, the most dapper clown Arnie had ever seen.

The clown looked at him and Arnie saw the shock on the thin face, written under the makeup that left a smile painted in place.

"Well, what have we here, boys and girls?" Arnie blinked as the clown spun towards him, the bright blue eyes looking him over from top to bottom. Arnie swallowed hard and tried to recover from the unexpected change. The lanky clown moved over to him and slid up beside him with slick, almost spidery motions.

He leaned in close, and put his lips next to Arnie's ear. "What's your name, Ace?" "F-Fast Freddie." Rufo sprang back as soon as Arnie had answered. "Fast Freddie! I thought I'd never see you again!" His voice went up in octaves, high enough to almost sound feminine, and then he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around Arnie in a wild, exaggerated hug. Before Arnie knew what was happening, he was off the ground, lifted like he was nothing more than a child by a man who was thinner than he was. The arms around his ribcage squeezed like a python and for a moment he thought his ribs would break. Then he was sat down and Rufo stepped back, grinning broadly for everyone.

Arnie was following the man's every move, so he didn't really understand how the other clown had just vanished, but that was exactly what happened. He looked away for only an instant and Rufo was gone. There was a serious feeling that something was not right with Rufo the clown and that sense was only increased by the strength of the man.

"Please... please mister, I did like you asked, didn't I?" The sounds were coming from one booth over and Arnie looked around the rear corner of his resting spot and saw Lou trembling.

"You sure did, Mister Peasley. You did it just as nice and right as you could have, and that's why I gave you the fifty bucks." The voice was low and raspy and sent shivers of goose flesh across Arnie's back.

"Then why are you doing this?" Lou's voice cracked a bit.

"Know what the problem with you is, Mister Peasley?" Lou shook his head. "The problem is you sold out one of your friends for fifty bucks. How trustworthy do you think that makes you?"

"Oh God, Oh God, please no..." Lou backed up, his head shaking from side to side, and as he moved back the source of the shadow stepped forward. Rufo the clown looked at Mister Peasley and grinned. "That's just what Maddy said, right before I ripped his eyes out."

"What's that, Mr Peasley?" The man leaned over Lou and scrutinized his face.

"What's what?" Lou gasped as he started to sit up.

Rufo's hand shot forward and grabbed at Lou's face. Arnie watched on, unbelieving as the clown rammed his gloved thumb into the soft orb of Lou's left eye. "You've got something in your eye..."

Rufo laughed, a sound that had nothing whatsoever to do with joy. Then Rufo did it again. He reached out with his free hand and caught Lou's tongue between his finger and thumb. Lou kept screaming, trying to get away as the red flowed from his closed eyelid. Rufo pulled back and Lou's head followed for a moment before the flesh of his tongue sliced away from his mouth.

"Jesus Christ!" Arnie opened his mouth and said words before he realized what he was doing.

"Oh, Fast Freddie, I don't think He's here right now, do you?" Rufo winked at him and dripped Lou's tongue to the ground.

"Okay, Arnie. What we have here is a problem."

"You gonna kill me?" Arnie had no doubt the clown could. None at all. There was something about the man under the paint that unsettled him. Probably it was his violent tendencies.

Rufo looked his way and shrugged. "Well, I should. I mean, look at what I did to Mister Peasley over there, and he really didnt do that much to offend me." "Why did you do it?" "Why?" Rufo looked back at Lou, who was starting to crawl around. "Well, he really wasn't a very good clown, was he? I didn't see him make a single kid laugh."

"Without the makeup we're all just faces in the crowd. Why do you think clowns protect their faces so avidly?"

Rufo's eyes rolled towards the heavens. "I said, go kill Peasley and I'll let you live. You have to change the makeup, but other than that, we'll be even-stevens." "You can't be serious." Rufo popped up into a standing position like a jack-in-the-box and moved toward Arnie. Arnie flinched back as the other clown got right in his face. "Is this the face of a joker? Of course I'm serious! You or Peasley, who do you value more in this world?"

"I can't kill Lou. He's my friend!"

"He sold you out for fifty dollars, Fast Freddie."

"I can't do this. I'm not a killer." He shook his head and looked at the ground at his feet. "Not even if it was a mercy killing?" Arnie couldn't think of a proper response. So he went with the first thing that came to mind. "Okay, you took his tongue, but there's always a life as a mime." "Now how is living as a mime a good thing?" The other clown sounded indignant. "Well.. okay. That's true."

Couldn't we just settle this in court?" Arnie's voice was failing him and he squeaked like a kid who's voice was just starting to break. "Freddie," Rufo bent forward, his hands resting on his knees. "If I wanted to go to court, I'd have to prove to everyone that I'm still alive. You aren't worth the effort." He stood back up and looked down on Lou and Arnie alike. "Besides, there's that whole murder and mutilation thing to consider. Most courts don't like it when clowns go all violent."

Rufo stared at him for several seconds, the grin under his smile unwavering. Then he stepped forward and drove the heel of his foot into the flabby neck of Lou, who was still lying on the ground and moaning. Lou's face shoved hard in the dirt, and Arnie heard the bones in his neck breaking. There was no mistaking the sound, or the fact that it killed Lou instantly. "I'm here to stay Fast Freddie."

Arnie screamed. That was a bit more than he was willing to deal with, and he let loose with a girly shriek and bolted past the funnel cake stand and into the main area of the fair. He stopped when he'd cleared a good fifty yards and looked back, fully expecting Rufo to be on his heels, but there was nothing, no one.

By the time the police arrived, the security guard had Arnie hog tied with plastic bags and was strutting around like a rooster. The cops untied Arnie long enough to ask him a few hundred questions. When they were finished, Arnie was in the back of a police cruiser and wearing actual handcuffs instead of plastic bags. It took three days for Arnie to get up the bail to get out of his jail cell. He didn't much mind. One way or another his career as a clown was at an end

"I just wanted to make the kids happy, really. I like kids." He knocked back half of his beer in salute to the children and let out a deeply satisfying belch. "That's why I've decided to let you live anyway." Rufo's voice came from directly behind him.

Arnie couldn't have jumped higher if someone had electrified his ass. The other clown was standing behind Arnie's recliner, smiling, with Fireball in his hands. The traitorous cat was slumped along the clown's forearm and purring. "I thought about it, Arnie. You're a good clown. You make kids laugh." He shrugged and let Fireball drop into the chair, where the beast promptly got comfortable again.

Arnie looked carefully at the clown in front of him and shivered. The face he wore wasn't makeup. The triangles of blue had been cut into the other clown's face; as had the red lips and the dimples and the dot on his nose. He'd been wearing makeup to hide that fact at the fair.

"See why I'm partial to my looks, Arnie? They aren't going to go away. Find a new face and we'll get along just fine." Arnie just looked at the man and shivered. Insanity seemed to come off of Rufo like a palpable wave.

"I'm done here. Change your face or the next time I see you, I'll cut your face off your skull and make it into a seat cushion. Do we understand each other?" Arnie nodded his head so hard he thought he might break his own neck from the force.

"Take care of Fireball. He'll be watching you." The clown headed to the front door and stopped with his hand on the knob. "You know, if you mention me they'll think you're crazy right?"

"I won't mention you."

"Bonko's getting out tomorrow. He's probably gonna want to talk to you about the three years for stealing your truck."

Arnie nodded his head and smiled. "He's a bad clown." "What do we do with bad clowns, Arnie?" That was a quandary. He really wasn't sure how to answer, but the longer he looked into Rufo's eyes, the more he thought he understood. "We- we punish them?" Rufo nodded and smiled. "That we do, Arnie. Take care of my light work for me okay?"

Bonko was a big boy and he fought dirty, but Arnie nodded anyway. "I think I can do that. I really think I can." Rufo nodded one last time and quietly slipped through the door.

Arnie moved to the kitchen and looked at his assortment of knives. There were a couple of them that would fit through Bonko's ribs without any trouble at all, and the meat cleaver, well that could do a lot of damage to Bonko's head. "Gonna need a new face, anyway. Bonko's was always nice."

One Bad Week by James A. Moore