#Raymond…. I don’t know his last name

[probablygayattorneys]

The mental image of Sycamore spending hours in front of his mirror, practicing his quick change into Dickole while Raymond stands there, politely clapping and saying “Oh, very good, sir!” Is quality, 10/10 would recommend imagining.

[yappacadaver]

I just.

I want to be buried deep in that ass NOW

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

HATE HOW GOOD YOU FEEL

KINKTOBER DAY 7 - HATE FUCK WITH RAYMOND LEON

Pairing.| Raymond Leon x fem!reader

Summary.| After months of tracking his most stressful case, Raymond can’t resist but to fuck you before he takes you in.

Warnings.| Hate fuck, degradation, rough sex, bondage, dub con, non con

Word count.| .9k

“Fuuuuuckkkk” Raymond groaned out, his dick hidden in between your clenching, slippery, dripping walls. His dark slicked back hair was a total mess.

You were face down ass up in the back seating of his car. Raymond was standing just outside the open back car door, his hands holding up your hips as he slowly pumped himself inside of you. Impulsively, your hands twisted in the handcuffs locked tightly behind your back. 

Raymond poked his head out onto the deserted highway, it was the middle of the day. The California sun attacked his pale skin. These roads were hardly traveled upon, neither of you had to worry about any audience. Over in the nearby ditch, your smashed up car laid there. A mere twenty minutes ago, Raymond had run your car off the road. 

His hand smacked your ass, he smirked at the way your cheeks jiggled. You had caused him so much stress and pressure at work, he had been tracking you down for months. But Raymond would always just fall short of catching you due to his idiot coworkers, or as he would blame. Timekeeper Raymond Leon always worked better alone. Today will provide enough evidence for that certainly. 

“Fuck babygirl, does criminal cunt always feel this good?” Raymond moaned, his mouth wide open as he pounded into you, his balls slapped against your clit. 

“Don’t make me feel special” you snarled back, hissing not at the pain, but at the pleasure he was bringing over you. It was the ultimate self-betrayal, if you gave into this whirlwind of sensation, your dignity would never recover. 

“Could say the same to you, I know you’re nothing more but a dirty whore. Surprised your pussy still feels tight, but then yet again, I know I’m bigger than most” Raymond chuckled, harshly slapping your ass again. 

He leant down, his hand quickly wrapping around your hair as he yanked your upper body up. You cried out in pain, mouth hanging open as your eyes darted for anything that could get you out of this. But you were completely at his whim. His lips pressed to your ear. 

“Heard you liked to fuck your victims first. Then robbed them blind, some to their last second of breath. Little fucking whore hey? Want to try to steal my time afterwards?” Raymond smirked, snapping his hips effortlessly into you, the ache of your back pulsed painfully. 

“I’ll fucking kill you next” you moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

“Aw babygirl, that’s so sweet of you” Raymond laughed softly, his free hand clawing into your ass cheek. “But just focus on taking my cock first, yeah?” He advised condescendingly. 

As your primal senses took over, you listened to him, focusing on squeezing his cock. The thought of killing a man with this good of dick game fled your mind. The pulses of your cunt sent a massive wave of vibrations down his shaft. 

“Fucking slut, you really made me work through the trenches. You know how shit people gave me?” Raymond snarled, his fingernails baring blood from your rear skin. 

“Come on Leon, can’t catch a little girl?”

“Ray-Ray-Ray” you spluttered out as he began to hit your cervix repetitively. 

“Yeah… Moan my fucking name, fucking desperate whore” he ordered viscously, his hand yanking at your hair to the point where your head pressed against the ceiling of the car. 

The memory of his hatred towards you fueled his tired body. He was unable to sleep because of you, so obsessed with catching you. Your beauty was the ultimate tease. The primal urges instead of him demanded that he showed you your place, especially when you batted your lashes at him so seductively. What could Raymond say, he couldn’t resist a taste of the forbidden fruit. 

“Raymond!” you shrieked out. 

The feeling of your orgasm tingled up and down your ways. Your vision started to darken as the heat in your core rapidly increased. The sensitive balloon in you demanded to be popped, but couldn’t seem to suck in enough oxygen to do so. 

Suddenly, he let go of your loop of hair, your upper body thudded onto the leather seating, your right shoulder receiving first impact. He slapped your ass again as he slipped his twitching length out of you.

“Fuck you!” you growled, your hips humping the air like a dog in heat, desperately trying to chase your high. 

“Sorry babygirl, but criminal whores need to earn their orgasm” Raymond condescended, as he stroked his juicy member. 

He yanked you out of the car, you tried to fight him, your legs kicking in every direction possible, but his hold was too swift, your body fell onto the rough sand and stone. 

“Come on, finish me off slut” Raymond growled, his tip poking at your closed mouth. 

Your tongue swirled over his tip before taking him into your mouth. Quickly, his hands tugged at your roots as he began to roughly fuck your mouth. You gagged against him, your body squirming around underneath him as he growled out his climax. His white ropes of pleasure coated the back of your throat as he slowly pulled himself out of you. 

As Raymond admired your beat up face, an idea came to mind, his thumb slipped into your mouth. They would merely time you out the second Raymond took you in. But he hadn’t reported that he caught you yet. 

So why not take a detour back to his, so you could really make up for his lost time.

[lau219]

Catching Feelings

Raymond Leon x Female Reader (Y/N)

Part 1 of 3

“You have a date?” Shannon repeated in surprise, her eyebrows rising. “What do you mean you have a date? I thought you were with Leon?”

Despite the pain that hearing his name secretly caused her, Y/N gave a snigger of irritation and disgust at the mention of Raymond.

“Not anymore,” she said then. “He dumped me last month. But then again, I don’t even know if it can be considered dumping when I can’t even say we were actually a couple.”

Shannon tilted her head.

“I’d say you were,” she replied. “I mean, weren’t you guys dating for over a year?”

Y/N sighed.

“I don’t think what we were doing qualifies as dating,” she said. “He would just randomly demand me to spend time with him when he decided he wanted me around for a while, and then he’d kick me out when he decided he was sick of me.”

“Seriously?” Shannon asked. “Wow, I had no idea.”

Y/N nodded.

“It was the same way in the bedroom. He’d call on me whenever he wanted sex, and then he’d basically tell me to get lost when he was done with me. I hated it. It made me feel so cheap and just…like an object he didn’t even care about.”

“Why did you put up with it for so long, then?” Shannon asked. “I mean, it’s been common knowledge around here for the last year that you two were…whatever you want to call it.” She then widened her eyes in emphasis as she looked at Y/N. “Over a year, actually.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and gave a shake of her head as she thought back, the pain still very real.

“I kept hoping something would change with him,” she said. “I mean, when we first started ‘dating’, we agreed it was casual, and I was fine with that. But then, after a few months, he started wanting me around more often than he used to, and he’d be changing my shifts to coincide with his and making me tell him all my social plans so he’d always know where I’d be. And then he told me that, even during times when I wasn’t spending time with him, he didn’t want me seeing anyone else.”

“Sounds like he saw it as more than just hooking up,” said Shannon.

“That’s what I thought,” Y/N nodded. “And so I kept going back to him because I thought he would eventually drop the tough guy act and give me something real. I mean, I know we initially agreed it was casual, but when he started getting possessive and wanting me around more often, I thought that meant he cared about me. There were even some moments here and there where he’d be sweet or soft with me, and I thought we were both catching feelings. I mean, I was, but whenever I broached it with him or asked him what it meant, he’d get cold again and tell me to leave.”

“Geez, what an asshole,” said Shannon.

Y/N shook her head as she thought about the day last month outside the station when Ray had told her it was over.

“I kept hoping he’d eventually be real with me. I mean, in those rare moments, it felt genuine, and despite how he is sometimes, I thought he…” Y/N trailed off for a moment, looking hurt. “I didn’t expect for anything to actually develop, but it did. And then, last month, I made the mistake of telling him that I love him.”

Shannon’s brows shot up again.

“You did?! And what did he say to that?”

Y/N gave her a look.

“I already told you. He dumped me.”

“You mean, right after you said that?” Shannon asked for clarification, and Y/N nodded.

“It was right before a shift. We’d driven to work together and he’d gotten all distant again. So I asked him when he was going to finally make up his mind about what I was to him. He didn’t say anything, but then when I told him I loved him but I couldn’t just be an afterthought anymore, he dumped me.”

“What exactly did he say?” asked Shannon.

Y/N sighed again and then answered.

“I said, ‘I need to know what I am to you, because you say one thing but then do another, and I don’t know what it means. You either want me or you don’t. And I love you, but I can’t just drift along like this anymore.’ And then he just stared at me for a moment, and then he said, ‘You don’t have to drift anymore, ‘cause we’re done.’”

Shannon’s mouth dropped open.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Yes,” Y/N nodded, “and then that was the end of it. He just walked away, and we haven’t spoken since.”

Shannon shook her head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe that,” she said. “I mean, everyone knows he’s no walk in the park, but I can’t believe he could be that cold.”

“I couldn’t believe it either, but at the same time, I realize I should have known better,” said Y/N. “But now I just have to try and forget about him. Hence the date with Nichols.”

“Did you really love him?” asked Shannon.

Y/N nodded.

“Yes, but he obviously doesn’t even care about me. What I thought I felt from him, I was wrong.”

“Does he know you’re going out with Nichols?” Shannon asked then.

Y/N shrugged.

“I don’t think so, but even if he does, he shouldn’t care. I mean, clearly, I’m not important to Ray, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re better off without him,” Shannon agreed. “He’s a dick.”

Y/N nodded.

“Too bad I didn’t fully believe that until it was too late,” she said.

Part 2 of 3

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[mauvecherie-writes]

the kaleidoscope theory: l.hamilton.

• pairing: lewis hamilton x kalani halloway.

• chapter warnings: infidelity.

• ru’s 💌: i won’t be giving out chapter summaries for this story as I genuinely want this story to the kind that you engage with without any hints given. if this story is a success, who knows what the future could be for it 😉. don’t forget to comment, reblog and like 💋.

• tip: kofi | paypal

• w.c: 1.03K

PROLOGUE

JUNE 2022.

The Thompson Hill youth football club the ‘Thompson Tigers’ had won their away match against another local rival team so their energies were still high as the group of young teenagers congregated in the Nando’s restaurant. The team took space at the back of the building but their table had a good view of the high street outside.

“How can you call yourself a Nigerian but you’re ordering lemon and herb?!” Tyrique, the goal-keeper of the team, criticised Michael - one of the defenders. “You’re a disgrace to your ancestors.”

“First of all! I’m half-Nigerian and two, not all of us were born with the devil’s arsehole for a mouth.” The remark caused an eruption of laughter throughout the restaurant.

Emil, who had been quiet in his corner with one headphone covering his ear just chuckled to himself and shook his head as he turned back his attention to the video that was playing on his phone. The footage was of him at the recent match. He had scored twice, his last one being the deciding the goal of the match.

It was something that he was proud of but there had been too many missed opportunities but the rival team had put on a good defence and were quite aggressive with their offence. However, he felt like he could have done more. If he was going to get scouted, he needed to be better.

“Right Emil, what am I getting you lad?” The Thompson Tigers’ head coach. Raymond Wright asked the young boy.

“Erm, just a quarter hot spice chicken with spicy rice and coleslaw . Refill drink please.” Emil ordered his food.

“Any desert for the man of the match?” Emil felt his cheeks warm at the statement. Everyone had agreed that he had deserved the badge of honour. Throughout the entirety of the match, Emil was the man lifting the spirits of the other players, keeping them going.

“No, I’m okay. Thanks coach.” the older man patted his shoulder and then walked towards the counter. As Emil turned his attention back to his phone, a message popped up.

Mum ❤️: Coach just sent me videos of the match! You smashed it honey and I’m so proud of you! I’m sorry that we couldn’t make it. But I will be making your favourite food tonight. Love you baby boy.

The message caused him to smile. His mother was always expressive and she did not care that he found it a little embarrassing and cringe, especially when they were out together in public.

He quickly typed a response back.

Emil: Thank you mum you only missed this one match and that’s only because Titi is sick. As long as I get the most plantain on my plate, we’ll be okay.

Exiting the message thread, he clicked on the thread that he shared with his father. The last message that he had received from his dad was in the morning and it was a google luck text. Emil was a little disheartened but he knew that once his father knew about the results of the match, he would reach out.

Emil shook his head as he locked his phone and took his headphones off so that he could join in conversation with the rest of the team.

Coach and a couple of teammates returned to the table with some refill glasses and cutlery. Emil was focused on cleaning his fork and knife when his name was called out.

“Wassup?” He acknowledged his teammate, Jamal, who had called out to him.

“Isn’t that your dad?” He used his head to indicate towards the window. Outside on the high street was a parked uber and outside of the vehicle stood a man. Emil observed the man. The man’s back wasn’t particularly large, he was just tall. The back of his shoulders stretched out the fabric of the fitted suit and it was in a colour that was typical of the navy blue colour that his father would wear for work. Whilst Emil took after his mother’s rich dark skin - his father was more of a lighter brown that, when it got too hot, he would tan.

And it wasn’t until Emil spotted a tattoo of a small bird behind the man’s ear did it full recognise in his brain that the figure was his father.

Without a further thought, Emil shot out of his seat and rushed towards the exit of the restaurant without a care. His dad was outside and the joy riddling his young body was uncontainable. Months of not having his father not being able to turn up for any of his games, him making that extra effort when his mother was home bound with his little sister meant the world to him.

He swung the door of the restaurant open and only slowed down to cross the road, Emil ran over. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and frowned in confusion at the sight a few feet ahead of him.

Just a few steps in font of him, Emil watched as his father, not even turn to face him, but to open his arms as a woman get out of the fashion boutique they were standing in front of. It was a woman he recognised but in that moment, Emil could not put a name to it.

The woman jumped in his father’s arms and embrace him the way that he had witnessed his mother do so many time before. Emil’s brain was trying to catch up with what was happening but his body was already reacting.

He felt his heart pinch with an acute pain that made it harder for him to breathe. Then tears began to well behind his eyes as the pain was becoming too much as the confusion mounted.

And yet, it wasn’t until his father kissed the woman did that confusion and hurt manifested into a deep betrayal and a furious anger.

His quick feet propelled him forward until he felt his hands pushed against the bodies of the adults, breaking them apart.

“What the fuck Dad!” He yelled as the older man stared down at him with a panicked look washing over his face.

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[pdpenpals]

omg wait i had the biggest crush on garroth growing up, could you write something for pdh garroth? I don't want to steal the confession idea from the other anon but the idea of garroth giving a letter after going 'oh wow I'm late for baseball practice haha! come see me after you read that!--' is so cute

OMG

YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT THIS REMINDS ME OF

THIS VIDEO FOR SOME REASON

also did you know i actually rewrote my own science notes digitally from last year for this request’s header

lol, hope you like it, nonnie! this one's built a little different for the sake of the #narrative.

sir raymond (he insists you use his nickname) always has an unhinged tale or two from his youth (he’s still in his mid-20s) up his sleeve, but the class doesn’t mind it with how he always manages to link it back to earth science, your last class of the week (well, before club period). he graduated from the university bordering phoenix drop, and he’s currently reminiscing about how he and his mates used to cling to its outer gates and hover above the sidewalk on the way there to avoid getting their clothes soaked by the flood whenever it rained (even just a little bit). it hasn’t improved for that area in ru’aun, but it’s always been like that. he should be getting back on topic in 3…2…

your train of thought is interrupted by garroth getting up from the table next to you when a senior pops by the classroom window and makes some motion that only the two of them understand. the class is used to it by now, so he’s able to quietly excuse himself and leave early for varsity duties. before you know it, his figure disappears down the hallway, basking in the afternoon sun. you’re about to chase after him to return the notebook he’s just left behind, but your name written slightly bigger than usual catches your eye.

you almost get caught zoning out when turning a page of his notebook reveals something you’re sure you’re not supposed to see. your cheeks heat up and your heart starts racing.

I’m pretending to be taking down notes, but really, I’m just writing this. Don’t get mad?

Anyway, so so sorry I can’t stick around again this period! Would it be alright to take a look at your notes during lunch period after intrams? I should be able to free up my schedule around that time now that the team doesn’t need me around when there’s no practice. The guilt is seriously eating me alive by relying on you more than I should for Earth Sci, can you not decline the next time I offer to make it up to you?

Speaking of, you should head over to the gym after club. I think the rest of the varsity teams need another pair of eyes to get them to work faster, and so we can finish event prep early. Your friends should be there too, I think? Still, I’d be happy to show you around myself! I can help you fend off anyone if they decide to annoy you.

Irene help me, I feel Sir’s stare on me right now. I’m definitely next to be called on for a question. But thanks to the Divine (I hope so), I can hear my team captain about to round the corner of the hallway outside and call me out for practice and intrams. Hope you don’t get called in my stead. Seriously. Now that’d be another thing to apologize for.

Getting off track now. Anyway! Really hope you’ll drop by later. Your company’s always welcome and such a delight to ha

Today’s To-Do:

🗹 Intrams, Log Committee

☐ ████ Application

🗹 Lunch @ Courtyard

☐ Look up ██████ & ██. ████

☐ Just confess already (keep it casual, it’s not that hard! — L.) (later after club then?)

[itscherrylipsforme]

Every second matters: Donald Ressler x FBI!fem!reader

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Your teammate’s and "crush-you-are-not-willing-to-admit"s disappearance is definitely one of those times, so you reluctantly have to ask the FBI’s most wanted criminal for help. Surprisingly, Raymond Reddington is also an excellent matchmaker

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and small injuries

Requested: yes

Words: 1300

Author rambles: Sorry because this took me ages (how many times have already repeated that?) Thanks to the amazing @zizzlekwum for her request and patience. Had to change the name while editing because this sounded better. Also this was edited late at night with mint tea as fuel and queued on the bus on my way to campus this morning, so blame any mistakes on those...

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

In the time you have been in the unit you have learnt two basic facts.

Fact number 1: There is absolutely no phone number, location or person Aram Mojtabai cannot find.

Fact number 2: You and the team never, I repeat, never go against Reddington’s plan. And that's for your own sake.

Yet, in the last hours everything you knew had come down in pieces. Ruins of the rules and statements you once held to, now they are left broken much as yourself. You look at Aram, clinging at the last straw of hope that remained.

“These guys are completely analogical! No digital footprint. And the last camera which got a glimpse of them only helps to reduce the search to a ten miles radius which is all covered by suburban houses. It just doesn’t make sense, the house’s cameras should have recorded them.”

His hands tangle in his short locks trying to find out a clue, something he is looking pass. Hostages just don’t go missing. Agents just don’t vanish in the air. Ressler can’t have just disappeared.

“What about Reddington?” You finally gather the courage to ask it, voice determined, you not so much inside.

“Still unwilling to talk with us.” Dembe, the gentle giant you have got used to call coworker and even friend in the last months, sights while crossing his arms. You have already seen the look in his eyes, the weight of the decisions you should both had taken as it that could ever change the current situation.

Things were easier when Liz was around, the idea hangs out in the air as if you could nearly capture it. Nobody says it, but all of you know is true. Liz was the only who could talk some sense into him, if someone could ever talk sense into Raymond Reddington. A few years ago, you could trust in Dembe to try it at least too. But since he has become Agent Zuma, the relationship has run cold. A worry for another day, you have more important matters in your hands now.

“Do we know where is him?”

Another question coming from your lips without even realizing, a silent nod the only answer you needed. Before turning to face your unit chief, Harold Copper.

“L/n, you have my permission to go.”

A fancy cocktail bar at six pm on a Monday afternoon. Lately Raymond wasn’t being too careful while choosing his meeting point, but with all you had in mind that was the last of your worries This shouldn’t have happened, nothing of this shouldn’t have happened. If things had been different, now you blamed yourself. Should have told him to stay in the car as Reddington had said, it was a recognition mission after all. But no, Donald Ressler always had to play the hero, and you didn’t have the guts to stop him.

“Y/n, my dear, sit down.” Reddignton retires a chair for you, a far too kind gesture considering how he had acted just an hour ago when Donald went missing in the mission. “Would you join me for a drink?” He pours another glass of a wine, which seems to cost at least a ten percent of your monthly salary, before you could even reply.

“Ressler has disappeared. He is probably being tortured at the moment, maybe even…” That’s another thing you learn in the field. Never say the forbidden word. If you do, you lose any kind of faith in seeing them again. If you lose faith, you lose everything. Even the possibility of them. "And you are thinking about wine?”

“Well, news like that is better taken while tipsy, isn’t it?”

Classical Reddington. Joking in the most inappropriate moments. Well, you also have an habit of storming out when angered. He will have to deal with that.

“You know how much he has lost because of you, right? Liz, his old girlfriend..." That gives you a bitter taste while rolling off your tongue at the same time you stand up. "You know what he has gone through. Don’t you care at least a bit? Once he dedicated his life to see you behind bars you, now he works by your side."

Your words are rushed, agitated. You can't even stop to catch a breath. Not that you want you, not until you are sure Ressler can do the same.

"You should respect that at least, I thought Raymond Reddington cared about his team.”

You see a strange glimmer in his eyes. Not mockery this time, but there was a small smirk in the curve of his thin lips. Laugh? Perhaps a hint of pride?

“First of all, you are well aware I do." He takes a long sip until the glass in empty. " Second, Donald is not in risk. Maybe bruised, but not deeply hurt. Those guys know better than to mess up with my team, as you have put into words.”

“Then why don’t you do something?”

Now there is a full grin on his face as he stands up takes his jacket from the hanger, not without leaving a generous tip on the table.

“I was waiting for you to ask me. And you did, half an hour earlier than I had bet by the way. This case may be even worse than I thought.”

“Cut out the riddles, Reddington.”

“You know he’s in love with you, right?”

How could he say it so blatantly, sweeping his fedora with such a calm manner while you had lost all your words? Mouth hanging and unable to stammer something coherent.

“He what?”

“And it seems pretty mutual to me�� With that he puts the hat on and opens the door for both of you. Still trying to process everything you can't help following him in silence.

The rest of the rescue passes bluring infront of your eyes. Reddington telling you the exact location. Entering the housing development which had been carefully built as a cover for the criminal network (only a few houses were actually being used by its members). Dembe and Siya watching your back as the suspects were aiming at you. Clearing the area. Immobilizing the suspects. And finally arriving to Ressler's side.

You try to be gentle as you untie him from ropes which are holding him to a chair. However, your attempts are futile, hands to clumsy and brain dulled by all the emotions coming for you at once. You can't even recall when a few timid tears have started rolling down your cheeks, but you don't mind either. Donald is an equal mess right now, it's the first time you have seen him like these. Vulnerable. Human. And it only adds to the feeling you don't dare to voice. Not yet.

As soon as his free you wrap your arms around him. His nose in your hair as an anchor to remind him you are finally here. A considerable bruise under his eye and his bloody knuckles would usually worry to death (yes, even considering your field). But now you can't bring yourself to care, just wanting to hold him close. An urge to kiss his lips until you are both restless reaches your mind, yet the need for this. Just a hug. Just a simple gesture to assure you he won't be leaving anytime soon is enough for the moment.

"I think you have some things to discuss. I will leave you to it.”

Raymond's words take you by surprise, and between the falling tears you and Donald start laughing at the situation.

"Maybe we should talk about this" You whisper as you try to calm down and reluctantly pull away from him.

Too bad he has no intention of moving, but neitheir of saying what is really going through his mind.

"Maybe. Later. Not now. Just..."

Without further ado he rests his face on the crock of your neck. He had always been a man of action, not too good words. You didn't mind. As long as you could feel his breath on your skin, his warm body relaxing. Working in the unit every second matters. And you will treasure these and enjoy them as long as you can.

[soulsforscrapbooks]

How the Dracula Stage Play Influenced Future Adaptations

So I wanted to let people know about the stage adaptation of Dracula, because it established a lot of tropes that have come to define the novel as well as vampire fiction in general, despite the fact that large changes were made when bringing the book to the stage. Sometimes, honestly, it seems like more adaptations pull from the play than the book. Okay:

The original stage adaptation of Dracula was written in 1897 by Stoker himself! Here you can see the manuscript in his own hand:

Apparently he hated how it turned out, because he called it “dreadful” and it was performed only once and then never again. The role of Mina was played by Edith Craig, a well-known figure in the suffragist movement and the daughter of Ellen Terry, Stoker's friend, whom he mentions in the book. The next attempt at adapting the novel would not be until the 1920s, after Stoker had died.

The 1924 adaptation by Hamilton Deane stays fairly close to the events of the novel. Some key points:

The entirety of the action takes place in the Harkers' house

Mina and Jonathan are already married

Dracula is already in England, and the storyline involving Jonathan as a prisoner of the Count has been omitted

To accommodate the female members of his theater troupe, Quincy is now a woman! Her name is still Quincy, and she is described as “feisty,” and is a close friend of Jonathan and Mina. (There don’t seem to be any photos from the 1924 play, sadly.)

It is in this first major adaptation that the idea of the Count as suave and debonair is brought into existence. This change is to allow Dracula to interact more easily onstage with the other characters, whereas in the book he stays an offscreen threat for large amounts of time. This is also the first instance of Dracula wearing a high-collared pointy cape, which was originally done to hide the actor better whenever Dracula had to “disappear” through trapdoors. 

Here is Raymond Huntley as Dracula in the 1924 stage adaptation:

The play was a success, and quickly moved to Broadway:

This version, adapted by John Balderston, was a complete revision not just from the book but from the 1924 stage play, and a LOT of changes were made:

Quincy, Arthur, and MINA have been removed from the story. Mina is mentioned as having died mysteriously before the play takes place.

Jonathan’s relationship to Dracula has been completely removed. He is not involved with bringing the Count to England at all. He is also now wealthy, and has traveled Europe extensively, where he has heard folktales about vampires.

Lucy is now engaged to Jonathan, and her last name is now Lucy Seward. This is because……..

John Seward has been aged up and is now Lucy’s father. 

The action takes place at Seward’s house/asylum.  

Renfield is allowed to just sort of…wander around Seward’s house when the plot requires him to be there. He gets dragged away by attendants whenever he needs to be offstage. He also survives. 

The Broadway version also made large changes in characterization:

Lucy is weak and feeble when we meet her in the play. She is helplessly preyed upon by Dracula, and yet is sexually tempted by him when under a trance. She and Dracula share a passionate kiss at the end of Act II, right before she willingly exposes her neck for him to bite. 

Jonathan is still concerned for Lucy as she is slowly turned, but he is more wary of her and goes along willingly with Van Helsing’s ideas regardless of how Lucy feels.

Renfield is portrayed as actively malicious, through fearful and subservient to the Count. 

Seward is seen as a strong-willed father who leads his asylum with a firm and confident hand. He believes Van Helsing more readily when confronted with the existence of vampires.

Dracula himself is once again depicted as charming and suave, and he spends time during the first act as a mysterious but pleasant dinner guest of the Sewards.

Despite these massive revisions, the Broadway version was a hit, partially to due the charisma of Bela Lugosi, who originated the role. (Below is Bela Lugosi as Dracula along with Seward, Van Helsing, Jonathan Harker, and Renfield on the floor:)

Bela Lugosi, of course would go on to star in the 1931 film adaptation. Other famous stage Draculas include Jeremy Brett and Frank Langella (Langella's revival would also give us this amazing Edward Gorey art:)

So we can see that the stage plays influenced many versions that would later come, as well as the idea of vampires in pop culture at large. It’s interesting how the motifs and themes we expect when we hear the word “Dracula” were actually the creation of people besides the author, and these differences don't seem to have been majorly disputed in the last 100 years. Has this happened with other classic novels? I'm not sure, but I'd love to see an accurate adaptation of Dracula in stage or film form, and see how it might influence filmmakers and directors for the future.

[forbidden-sin-bin]

By Your Side - Chapter 4

Chapter 3 | By Your Side Series | Chapter 5 (coming soon)

Summary: You experience what it’s like being on a film production for the very first time, whilst thinking about home. Luckily, your fellow castmates and film crew seem friendly enough... 

Word Count: 2,772 words

---

February 18, 1998

---

“Alright,” the director clapped his hands together, bringing everyone in the room to his attention. “Now I know we all practically know each other by now, but since everyone’s here, let’s begin by introducing ourselves and our cast roles. I’ll go first, and then we go round clockwise from there.” He nods to the group and takes his seat down at the table.

“So! I’m Robert Rodriguez, and I’ll be your director for this movie.” He motions to the person sitting to the left beside him to continue, to which a young man with  speaks up.

“Hey guys, I’m Josh Hartnett, and I’ll be playing as Zeke Tyler.” He nods shortly. 

“Jordana Brewster, and I’m playing Delilah Profitt. I’m looking forward to be working with you all.” The gorgeous brunette flashed a brilliant smile.

Next was a tomboyish looking blonde, though you had a hunch it may have been stylized that way for her role. “Hi, I’m Clea DuVall, and my role is Stokely Mitchell. Cool.” The group shared a small chuckle.

“Uh, hi, I’m Shawn Hatosy, playing as Stan Rosado.” He quickly runs a hand through his curly hair as he spoke.

“Hello everyone! I’m Laura Harris, and I’ll be playing Marybeth Hutchinson.” Her gentle voice matched her kind looks as she offered a small smile. Beside her, one of the smallest of the group, perked up as he introduced himself right after.

“Hi guys, I’m Elijah Wood. Really excited to be here, and I’ll be playing Casey Connor.” He spoke quite self assuredly despite sharing most of the group’s slightly nervous jitters, having been on multiple film productions in the past.

“...”

“Uh, Y/N? That’s your cue.” Robert whispered across the table, and suddenly you realized it was your turn, but not before you caught Elijah’s eye as he gently prodded you with his elbow.

‘Oh shit.’

 “Oh shhh...oot.” You caught yourself at the last second, not wanting to look bad in front of your peers by cursing. “Yeah! Yeah, it’s my turn.” The table shared a lighthearted laugh, though you weren’t sure if it was meant to be comforting or not. 

“Uh... hi guys!” You introduced yourself, first name and last. “I’ll be playing as... Jordan Fulcher. Nice to meet you all.” A ripple of amusement sounded throughout the table, and you were half tempted to just lay your head down on the surface with embarrassment. 

Instead, you added: “Sorry, first day on the job.” A couple of people you heard responded with “Same here”, good naturedly.

Luckily or not, the person you sat beside - whom you’ve already been introduced to as Usher - took the attention off of you to charismatically introduce himself. 

“Alright, alright! How’s it going y’all? You might’ve heard of me, you might’ve not. But that’s aight if you don’t; You can call me Usher!” He pauses, letting the room quiet down after another round of laughs and playful cheers. “Usher Raymond, and I’ll be playing Stan Rosado, thank you all for comin.”

Half of you felt grateful that the fellow beside you was able to shift the attention off of you so quickly, though the other half admonished yourself for messing up within the first day of production. ‘Great job, dumbass.’ You thought to yourself.

Looking up, you met the eye of another castmate across from you; The kind eye of Robert Patrick gave you a slight nod of reassurance as he silently mouthed: “You’re okay.”

Feeling comforted as the far more experienced actor gave you his approval, you let yourself smile back. 

It’s always nice to know you’ve got THE T-1000 as a cast member to learn from, as well as other friendly-enough faces.

No longer cornered by your awkward first introduction, you gently prodded Elijah back with your elbow to whisper: “Just wanna let you know: You did a great job in Flipper last year.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, thanks! It was a ton of fun, I’m glad you liked it.”

...

Sighing in frustration, you forced yourself to take a seat once you entered your assigned dressing room’s chairs, after pacing around the room, nothing short of stressed and anxious. Unable to shake the feeling of uneasiness, you leaned down, burying your face into your arms as they lay atop the vanity table, not daring to look at yourself in the mirror right in front of you. 

‘How the hell did they decide to cast someone with a face like mine?’ You thought, running a hand over it.

Did anything go wrong today? No, actually, if any other person would be asked this question, the most agreed answer would be: No, things went quite well for the first day.

You weren’t any other person, unfortunately; Or at least, you concluded that you cannot be any other person even if you wanted. In fact, you still felt the absolute embarrassment of messing your introduction up; Anyone else would have long forgotten by now; you however, couldn’t shake the fear of wondering if people were about to use that slight slip-up against you, or if they wouldn’t let you live it down, or-

Someone called your name as they knocked on your door. “You doing alright in there?” Robert called, and you shot up, any admonishing thoughts upon yourself being flash frozen for the time being. 

“Uh... hang on just a second!” You called back, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror to rid yourself of any evidence of stress upon your face before beelining towards the door. “Ah, hey there sir.” You gave him a welcoming smile, hiding away your inner turmoil. “What’s up?”

From the initial look on his face, you had already guessed there was something else he wanted to ask. Still, he returned the friendly expression as he replied: “Just wanted to check in on you, also wanted to say that you did great today. Don’t sweat it, just take it easy and enjoy yourself, okay?”

Nodding, you gave him a thumbs up. “Noted. Sorry about that. I... just want to make sure I can give you guys the best performance I can, so...”

“Oh, no need to worry at all.” The director laughs a little. “Everyone’s been talking about how quickly you change into your character like this.” He snapped his fingers. “It’s just the table-read, but it already looks like you’ve got your character down just like that.” You slightly bowed your head in thanks.

“I do my best, and my best is what I can only give, even on day one.” You shrugged lightly. While his words did comfort your nerves somewhat, it’ll mean nothing if not applied to the final product. 

Robert gives you a clap on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! Now, come on, you don’t want to be eating alone on your first lunch break on the job. Everyone’s been waiting for you!”

You sighed, this time with a bemused look. “Alright alright, as long as they don’t start applauding the moment I enter the room, I’ll hang around more often.” Quickly turning to grab your headset and walkman, making sure the cassette inside still held Marshall’s new EP that you’ve been listening to more often than you would’ve liked to admit, you followed your boss to lunch. “I appreciate it, you know.” You added, genuinely grateful.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. Don’t burn yourself out by pushing yourself too hard. You’re gonna do fine, trust in the process and you.”

---

Several weeks later...

---

“What’re ye listening to?”

Raising your head to look at whomever interrupted your peaceful quiet time before another set of rehearsals, you gave Usher a deadpan look and replied: “Nothing your ears should be hearing.” 

He raised his hands in surrender. “I mean, if you know my kind of songwriting, pretty sure that means you’re listening to the HARD, hard stuff.” He angled his neck to try and take a peek at the cassette slotted inside to no avail. “You’ve been leaving us at a cliffhanger for like, what, two and a half weeks? I wanna know what’s made this tape so special, honest to god!”

“Now that,” Clea, having heard your response, came up and sat down beside you. “Is something I’m interested in knowing about; Considering you’ve shot down all of our guesses as to who you’re listening to.” 

Sighing, you groaned, facepalming. “Ugh... not you too, Clea.” Though, you couldn’t help but smile along as your two co-stars laughed. “At this point, you’re gonna get the whole gang in on the investigation-”

“Hold up, did I miss something?”

‘... Speak of the devil.’ You thought as Shawn sidles up beside Usher to look alongside him. “Are we finally gonna hear what you’ve been playing on that walkman?” He inquired.

“If I could, I would.” You replied, keeping your face stone cold with fake annoyance. “But like I said, give it time till this guy’s made it big enough for the mainstream, and then y’all won’t look at me and think: ‘Wow, this kid is a nutcase.’“

“Oooooh, so it’s a guy.” Clea leaned in a bit, raising her eyebrows. Meanwhile, the other two boys followed along with teasing “Oooooooh’s”, like a group of gossiping fangirls.

You didn’t say a thing, except look across the room where Kidada Jones was sitting, making eye contact, you gave her a pleading look of ‘help me’. 

Tragically for you, she just shrugged, grinning playfully. “Sorry babe, you know I’m just as obsessed as the rest of ‘em.” 

“Auuuugggghhhh.” Throwing your head back in exasperation, you called out your two other co-stars that weren’t even here. “Jeez, Laura? Josh? Why must you two not be here in this very moment to defend my pride?!” The group cracked up laughing at your dramatic bemoaning. It was all in good fun, you were hardly even offended at their sibling like pestering to reveal your secrets, but god, sometimes you really needed someplace more introverted than this.

Shoving your walkman back into your pocket and got up from the couch. “I’m being held hostage here, so I’m just gonna... make my escape. See ya.” Leaving the break room to find some other place to chill. 

”Only a matter of time!” Usher called as you left. You looked back and gave him a shake of your head with a smirk, determined to win this war.

Unknowingly to them, your muscles were sore from training on another movie production, set to start filming practically right after this one ended. If you could, you’d hole up in your trailer and sleep the rest of the day away. Stretching out your back with a wince, feeling your overworked sinews creak and stretch, you continued walking down the hall to find Elijah and Robert in another room, playing a game on the Super Nintendo.

“Hey guys-” You greeted before realizing what they were playing, your eyes lighting up. “Oh shoot, is that DOOM?”

“Yeah!” Elijah briefly turned to reply to you before focusing back onto the level. “You wanna try after we finish this level?” 

“Hell yeah, say no more.” Taking a seat on one of the chairs to watch the two play out their match, you stifled a pained groan as you bent your legs to sit down. “Man, I’m already feeling like an old person.”

Robert chuckled, his character reloading their shotgun shells. “You’ve got a long way to go before you actually start feeling that way, kid.” The room was comfortably silent as you watched them play, before he piped up again: “So, how was training with Ed and Brad? Tough crowd, huh?” 

You let out a single “Ha!” before responding:

“Honestly, I’d rather have everyone here pester me about my musical choices before having Mr. Norton urge me to keep going after like, twenty reps? Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Lips are sealed.” Elijah said, as his character turned the corner of a hidden path to collect a blue keycard. “Got it.”

You clapped your hands once. “Nice! You’re almost there.” 

Figuring you may as well resume listening to your music as you watched the gory video game, you quickly put your headphones back on to hear the middle of Just Don’t Give A Fuck, muttering along to the lyrics as if on instinct.

But if you see me on the street and duck ‘Cause you gon’ get stuck, stole, and snuffed ‘Cause I just don’t give a fu-

“Hey! Language.” Robert lightly reprimanded you, breaking you out of your trance.

“Oop, sorry.” 

“...Interesting music choice you got there.” 

You gave a grimace-sort of a smile. “Exactly why I’m not showing my cassettes off to anyone. Not for the faint of heart.”

“Pfft.” Elijah waved the warning off. “We’re all adults here, honestly. What’s a couple of swear words and dark topics gonna hurt anyone?”

‘Ohhhh boy, you have no clue, Eli.’ You thought, leaning back in your seat.

--- 

Another few weeks later, March Break, 1998... 

---

Your pager bleeped loudly within your pocket, taking you out of your well earned peaceful zone-out of just letting the world go by, watching Quinn play around in the grassy park fields.

Nearly deciding against checking, you reluctantly took your pager out of your pocket, unsurprised to see your agent’s number displayed on the little screen.

Unsurprised yet somehow not having the strength today to feel irritated, you just sighed and dialed him up on your phone. Pretty handy these days, despite being manufactured a few years ago, it was a worthwhile investment if it meant being able to take calls outside the house.

As soon as you heard him pick up, you didn’t let him have a chance to say hello: “I swear to god, you better have a good reas-”

“Pack your bags, we’re going to L.A.”

You blinked. 

“...Why?”

Usually you’d be far too happy to make a beeline for the airport, but Shaun specifically agreed to not contact you during March Break, just so you could spend some time alone with your family. Having him break that protocol, despite not having any written in agreement, well, let’s just say you had a right to ask why.

Luckily, your agent seemed both excited and probably in a slight state of panic as he explained. “You remember the demo tape I told you to give to me before you left for the first table-read, right?” Not waiting for your confirmation, he quickly got to the point. “Well, someone here wants you to get that song out ASAP, if you can, you get to perform live on the 31′st as THE opening act for another artist’s debut!”

Huh.

Running a hand over your face, you shut your notebook and began to pack your things to leave the park, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder. “Which one, exactly?”

“Florentine Garde- oh, no wait, that’s not what you meant - All of them! Well, pretty much all of them. Look, just, you got a song that’s pretty much done in there right? Which one is the quickest to be produced from now before the 29th this month?”

“Alright, alright, calm down. I know which one I’m gonna do. Just let them know I’ll be there hopefully by tomorrow.”

“Already booked your flight.”

“Wow, great. Thanks for doing all this stuff before letting me know beforehand so I can tell my parents and nephew-slash-son know that I’m going back to work whilst on vacation.” You snipped.

“Look, I’m sorry, I really am. It’s just... this is an opportunity you can’t miss if you want to make it big in the music industry. I told you before that I saw your potential in your songs you showed me, and now’s the time to show an audience what you’ve got! C’mon, please, work with me here. I promise, I’ll show you the best places there to get the best ice cream. I know you like ice cream, right?”

You just chuckled, zipping up your bag. “Alright. You don’t have to bribe me like a child, but now that you mentioned it, you better uphold to that promise or so god help me if shit goes south. I’ll see you tomorrow in L.A.”

Quickly bidding him goodbye, you hung up and called Quinn over, beckoning him to come tidy up and leave. He was fairly understanding every time you told him you had to go to work, which meant not always being able to pick him up from school or taking him outside to play like today, which you were grateful for. 

Hopefully, he would forgive you for having to leave so soon, once again.

‘I’ll be back home soon, baby boy. I promise.’

----

(End of Chapter 4)

----

A/N: GET READY FOR THE REUNION YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR IN CHAPTER 5. MORE MARSHALL CONTENT FROM THERE ON OUT LET’S GOOOOOOO-

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[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 3 EPISODE 04 || OF LOST THINGS ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

She bent her head and shuffled through the papers before her, turning the pages over slowly, one by one. They were lists of names, these sheets, lists of prisoners, copied from the ledger books of British prisons. The task was complicated by the fact that not all prisons had been well-run. Some governors kept no official lists of their inmates, or listed them haphazardly in their journals, in among the notations of daily expenditure and maintenance, making no great distinction between the death of a prisoner and the slaughter of two bullocks, salted for meat. Roger thought Claire had abandoned the conversation, but a moment later she looked up again. “You’re quite right, though,” she said. “I’m honest—from default, more than anything. It isn’t easy for me not to say what I’m thinking. I imagine you see it because you’re the same way.” “Am I?” Roger felt absurdly pleased, as though someone had given him an unexpected present. Claire nodded, a small smile on her lips as she watched him. “Oh, yes. It’s unmistakable, you know. There aren’t many people like that—who will tell you the truth about themselves and anything else right out. I’ve only met three people like that, I think—four now,” she said, her smile widening to warm him. “There was Jamie, of course.” Her long fingers rested lightly on the stack of papers, almost caressing in their touch. “Master Raymond, the apothecary I knew in Paris. And a friend I met in medical school—Joe Abernathy. Now you. I think.”

She tilted her cup and swallowed the last of the rich brown liquid. She set it down and looked directly at Roger. “Frank was right, in a way, though. It isn’t necessarily easier if you know what it is you’re meant to do—but at least you don’t waste time in questioning or doubting. If you’re honest—well, that isn’t necessarily easier, either. Though I suppose if you’re honest with yourself and know what you are, at least you’re less likely to feel that you’ve wasted your life, doing the wrong thing.” She set aside the stack of papers and drew up another—a set of folders with the characteristic logo of the British Museum on the covers. “Jamie had that,” she said softly, as though to herself. “He wasn’t a man to turn away from anything he thought his job. Dangerous or not. And I think he won’t have felt himself wasted—no matter what happened to him.” She lapsed into silence, then, absorbed in the spidery tracings of some long-dead writer, looking for the entry that might tell her what Jamie Fraser had done and been, and whether his life had been wasted in a prison cell, or ended in a lonely dungeon. The clock on the desk struck midnight, its chimes surprisingly deep and melodious for such a small instrument. The quarter-hour struck, and then the half, punctuating the monotonous rustle of pages. Roger put down the sheaf of flimsy papers he had been thumbing through, and yawned deeply, not troubling to cover his mouth. “I’m so tired I’m seeing double,” he said. “Shall we go on with it in the morning?” Claire didn’t answer for a moment; she was looking into the glowing bars of the electric fire, a look of unutterable distance on her face. Roger repeated his question, and slowly she came back from wherever she was. “No,” she said. She reached for another folder, and smiled at Roger, the look of distance lingering in her eyes. “You go on, Roger,” she said. “I’ll—just look a little longer.”

When I finally found it, I nearly flipped right past it. I had not been reading the names carefully, but only skimming the pages for the letter “J.” “John, Joseph, Jacques, James.” There were James Edward, James Alan, James Walter, ad infinitum. Then it was there, the writing small and precise across the page:

“Jms. MacKenzie Fraser, of Brock Turac.”

I put the page down carefully on the table, shut my eyes for a moment to clear them, then looked again. It was still there.

“Jamie,” I said aloud. My heart was beating heavily in my chest. “Jamie,” I said again, more quietly.

It was nearly three o’clock in the morning. Everyone was asleep, but the house, in the manner of old houses, was still awake around me,creaking and sighing, keeping me company. Strangely enough, I had no desire to leap up and wake Brianna or Roger, to tell them the news.

I wanted to keep it to myself for a bit, as though I were alone here in the lamp-lit room with Jamie himself.

My finger traced the line of ink.

The person who had written that line had seen Jamie—perhaps had written this with Jamie standing in front of him. The date at the top of the page was May 16, 1753. It had been close to this time of year, then. I could imagine how the air had been, chilly and fresh, with the rare spring sun across his shoulders, lighting sparks in his hair. How had he worn his hair then—short, or long? He had preferred to wear it long, plaited or tailed behind. I remembered the casual gesture with which he would lift the weight of it off his neck to cool himself in the heat of exercise. He would not have worn his kilt—the wearing of all tartans had been outlawed after Culloden. Breeks, then, likely, and a linen shirt. I had made such sarks for him; I could feel the softness of the fabric in memory, the billowing length of the three full yards it took to make one, the long tails and full sleeves that let the Highland men drop their plaids and sleep or fight with a sark their only garment. I could imagine his shoulders broad beneath the rough-woven cloth, his skin warm through it, hands touched with the chill of the Scottish spring. He had been imprisoned before. How would he have looked, facing an English prison clerk, knowing all too well what waited for him? Grim as hell, I thought, staring down that long, straight nose with his eyes a cold, dark blue—dark and forbidding as the waters of Loch Ness. I opened my own eyes, realizing only then that I was sitting on the edge of my chair, the folder of photocopied pages clasped tight to my chest, so caught up in my conjuration that I had not even paid attention to which prison these registers had come from. There were several large prisons that the English had used regularly in the eighteenth century, and a number of minor ones. I turned the folder over, slowly. Would it be Berwick, near the border? The notorious Tolbooth of Edinburgh? Or one of the southern prisons, Leeds Castle or even the Tower of London?

“Ardsmuir,” said the notecard neatly stapled to the front of the folder. “Ardsmuir?” I said blankly. “Where the hell is that?”

7 A FAITH IN DOCUMENTS ~voyager

[darthannie]

day five: hate fuck with raymond leon

pairing: Raymond Leon x reader word count: 819 warnings: 18+ PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, rough sex, spanking, reader also wears a trench coat lmao, mention of age difference a/n: Raymond Leon hate me, please.

kintober masterlist

Raymond disliked the fact that you were his superior. He had been a timekeeper for much longer than you have, and he found it ridiculous that someone younger was his superior officer. 

You called him into your office to discuss a new case that was being assigned to him. It always irked him to be around you. He always had a bored look on his face, but you assumed he was like that with everyone. That was until he came bursting at the seams during the meeting over a disagreement. It quickly turned personal. 

He got up in your face. “You are not fit to be my boss. I don’t think trash like you should have EVER been allowed to become a timekeeper.”

You slapped him across the face. “How dare you talk to me like that?”

He clenched his jaw, “Easily.”

“That’s enough, Raymond.” You adjusted the cuff of your coat. “You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you had a little crush on me. That’s why you’re being such an asshole. Can’t handle the fact you like your boss.”

That was worse than the slap in the face. Raymond resented the fact he found you attractive. It was something he couldn’t have. He stayed silent, careful not to out himself. It had the opposite effect. 

“I take your silence to mean. I’m right? I mean, really, I’m flattered.”

“Enough,” he took a moment to think and scanned your face, “I think we can come up with an arrangement.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious to hear what he had to say. 

“We get together once, get rid of any pent-up feelings, and never speak about it again.”

You thought it over. “Okay. Deal.” You reached your hand out for him to shake. He grabbed it and pulled your arm, dragging you forward. Your lips crashed into his, and you pulled away. 

“Not now.”

“Yes, now.” He kissed you again. You didn’t think Raymond would be the needy type but right now he kissed you like he had been wanting to for years. That softness didn’t last long because he was bending you over your desk soon after. 

He draped your coat over one side of your body and yanked down your pants, then he ripped your underwear off you. He pocketed the ripped fabric.

“Hey, you do not get to keep that.”

He spat venom, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

He shoved his cock inside of you, not caring if you were wet enough. You gave him a side eye as you adjusted to his size, “Actually, I do. That’s exactly my job. You follow my orders.”

He fucked you harder, grabbing your neck and pulling you against him. A slap echoed in the office. He spanked you so hard that you turned red on his first try. He was angry. Angry at the fact you were still so cocky while you were speared on his cock. Angry that you finally got to him. 

You moaned as he hit the right spot over and over again. 

“You fuck like you’re trying to get me to submit to you.”

He was breathing hard, “I am trying.” He let go of your neck and you fell back down on the desk. 

“Try harder.” You grabbed onto the edge of the desk and he reached under your shirt, grabbed your breast, and fondled it. He pinched your nipple, and your back arched. His other hand was on your hip, anchoring himself at the place where your body hinged. 

You moaned his name as he lifted your leg, placing your knee on the desk. The new position allowed him to go deeper. You shrieked. Your panting and moaning was the fuel he needed to cum. He pulled out of you and brought you down on your knees.

“Open.” He slapped you lazily; he just wanted you to obey. You went a step further and put him in your mouth, sucking and licking around the tip. He moaned as he spilled into your mouth. He pulled out and a drop of cum fell from the side of your mouth. He wiped it with his thumb and shoved the digit in your mouth. 

You stood up as he put himself back in his pants. You pulled up your pants and returned to your desk chair. You sat down and watched him as he fixed his coat and ran a hand through his hair. 

He turned to leave but turned back around to try and have the final word, “Never again.”

When he reached the door you spoke up. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. I didn’t finish.”

His jaw clenched and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Filled with indignation, he walked out not bothering to look back at you. The last thing he wanted to do was see the smug look on your face. 

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @eleanorthemo, @ilovepeoplesdads

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery

warnings: blowjobs, Rays dream from ghostbusters, swearing, suggestive comments from peter

AN: happy 72nd birthday to Dan aykroyd! Story under the cut!

ray moaned under me as I licked up his shaft. His head fell back against the pillows, his chin tilted up as he brow furrowed. His hands gripped the bedsheet as I took him into my mouth.

“(Y/N).” Ray breathed out. “Oh fuck. Yes.” I pulled back and sucked on his head. “I can’t…I won’t…” he arched his back, forcing more of his dick into my mouth. I reached up and pushed his T-shirt up, gently running my nails over his stomach. I hummed as my fingers made contact with his chest hair. Ray moaned and bucked his hips as I licked around his shaft. Sucking as I pulled back, ray tossed his head to the side. “Please.” He whimpered. I continued at the pace I had set, watching him through my eyelashes. Ray was gasping for breath, his brow pulled tight as he thrust up into my mouth before cumming. He moaned my name as he did, making me smile as I pulled off him. I carefully tucked him back into his boxers and pulled his shirt back down. Ray sighed before turning on his side, searching for me in his sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief as I moved up the bed and curled up next to him. Ray hummed happily as his arm wrapped lazily around me. I kissed his cheek before falling asleep. The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. I could hear rays voice drifting up from the kitchen.

“I’m telling you ray. There’s more to this than you think.” Peter said. I could hear ray scoff. “I’m no dream analyst but I do have that doctorate in psychology. If you keep having this dream, and I do mean more often than once or twice a week, there has to be something to it.” Peter looked up at me as I walked in the room. Hugging ray, I pressed a kiss to the back of his head as his arms came up to hold mine to him.

“hey.” I whispered sleepily. He took my hand and kissed the back of it.

“hey.” He whispered back. “Sleep well?” I nodded against him before breaking away to grab a cup of coffee.

“you?” I asked. I saw Peter shaking his head at ray who rolled his eyes.

“(Y/N) knows about the dreams. They have since I started having them.” Ray explained. “I had another dream last night. The one where the ghost that looks like you blows me.” I nodded as I turned around and leaned against the counter.

“yeah.” I said, nodding at him to continue.

“And I…” ray coughed and blushed as he glanced at Peter. “Finished…but there was no evidence of it when I woke up.” I nodded. “So unless you changed me, which would have woken me up, or these dreams are just hyper realistic.” I snorted into my coffee cup and ray frowned. “What?”

“ray, you aren’t dreaming. Well not fully.” I said with a laugh. “Whenever you have that dream, I’m blowing you. In real life. In the middle of the night.” Rays eyebrows went up and his mouth dropped into an o. Peter started laughing.

“Raymond you dog! you can even get it in your sleep!” He laughed. I bit my lip to keep from smiling but failed. Ray looked over at me with a small smile, blushing as Peter hit him on the arm.

“he’s not wrong.” I said. Ray shook his head and got up. He hugged me as Peter got up and headed to the lab. “Sorry to spoil your dream.” I whispered, putting my cup down and burying my fingers into his hair.

“that doesn’t matter.” Ray shrugged. “I’m just glad that I’ve finally found out what is going on. Made me feel like I wasn’t being faithful to you. Even if the ghost looked like you.” I cupped his cheek and kissed him gently.

“I can’t be jealous of a ghost. Especially if it looks like me.” I said. “Besides, it’s a lot of fun to watch you get off. And don’t worry about returning the favor. You’ve always been more giving nights after you’ve had that dream.” Ray blushed deeper and tried to duck his head. I held his head up and kissed him again.

“(Y/N).” He whined when I pulled away. I smiled at him and kissed him again. The alarm went off and ray moved to pull away from me.

“I look forward to seeing you later tonight Raymond!” I called after him. He nodded bashfully before dropping down the firepole.

[am-i-interrupting]

I'm curious what Vox's first impressions were of the Alastor's daughter, like as a kid, I mean he briefly mentions it but I kinda wanna read his reaction about learning the radio host he grew up listening to has a daughter (and if he learned before the serial killer thing was announced, did imagine scenarios of meeting the radio man and his daughter like little kids do with their imagination or teens with their daydreams).

Another inquiry is what his impressions were when he read the reader's book (obviously he read it) and if he could sense there was more to it than the words written down

OATSH Master List

To answer your second question succinctly, yes. Not to the extent that he would suspect them of anything but he would have definitely picked up on some very subtle hints of defensiveness when it came to Alastor’s killings. I think he’d probably read it as them feeling like they need justification for still caring about him despite what he did but in reality, it’s less about their own justification and more so like a “he’s not a monster. He was helping people, why can you see that?” you know?

To answer your first question, thank you for giving me a reason to write this:

A Voice on the Radio | Vox x Alastor’s Child Reader

It was a surprise when the radio switched from producing the sound of blues to voices. For the past week, nothing but blues music came from the station. A very stark change from the upbeat jazz that normally played. There had also been no speaking. Not a single soul had spoken for the last nine days.

A throat cleared. “Is this on?”

“The light,” another, much younger sounding voice said.

The fifteen year old paused eating breakfast and looked at his mother who was staring at the radio with furrowed brows. Neither voice was familiar.

“Ah, yes, right,” the first voice said with a laugh. “Good morning all, we would like to apologize for the radio silence on our part this past week. Some unexpected tragedies came our way and with them uncovered some gruesome truths.

“The dearly beloved host, Alastor, has passed. He was killed by a misfire of a hunter. A truly tragic event but with it came to light the horrific acts of the late Alastor. As you likely know if you’re a long time listener, for the past decade or so, there have been many murders that have befallen this otherwise serene part of Louisiana and it’s been confirmed to be the acts of our previous show host.

“Today, I have here with me the one person who knew him better than anyone else and can hopefully shine some light upon the situation and perhaps give some peace to the families of the victims. Alastor’s daughter—“

He looked towards the radio now. His breakfast was forgotten now. His fork barely dangled in his hand.

Not only was his mother’s (and by extension his own) favorite radio show host dead but also a murderer and he had a daughter? So much information in less than three minutes. His brain was struggling to keep up.

Even his father set down his paper to listen in.

“Why don’t you say hello to the people?”

“I’m not dignifying you with a proper greeting until you dignify me with a proper introduction. You’re doing a terrible job, Gregory,” the younger voice said.

He smiled curiously at the radio.

“I— um, I’m sorry?” the man, Gregory, said. There was only silence in reply. An awkward chuckle, “Well, my apologies then. Let me introduce the daughter of our show host—“ Gregory said your name and silently he tested it on his tongue— “Do you have anything to say to the people before we begin?”

“Yes, I would like to sincerely apologize for Gregory’s lack of bravado and charisma. I did do my best to convince them that Raymond would be better but alas,” you said.

That’s when he got it. You did sound like a younger, more feminine version of your father. Down to the tilts of the accent.

There was a longer pause and then, barely picked up and barely able to decipher, “You have your father’s creepy smile.” Louder, intended to be heard, “Why don’t we get into the questions then?”

“Yes, let’s. The less time spent listening to you, the better for everyone, hm?”

“You little— So—“ the sounds of hands clapping together— “the reports I have here suggest that you knew about the murders. Was there a reason you didn’t say anything?”

“I’ve been raised by a serial killer, Gregory. Please, take a guess,” you replied.

He couldn’t help but snort as reached for his glass. His mother shot him a look. He bowed his head down as he took a sip.

“Right, well,” Gregory cleared his throat, “did you happen to know his motivations?”

“He’s a very righteous man,” you said. “You’ve seen him when people are being disrespectful. He’s not just some ravaging animal. He’s very selective.”

“Was,” Gregory corrected. “He was very selective, you mean.”

“Was,” you repeated and he could hear you seething even through the crackle of the radio.

“Oh, heavens! Get your stuff or we’re going to be late,” his mother said.

He didn’t want to go though. He wanted to stay and listen to you on the radio. He was having fun listening to your snark.

It truly surprised him, impressed him how you were able to have such moxie so soon after tragedy. He couldn’t imagine being so quick witted so quickly.

His mother called his name and he snapped back to reality. As he headed out the door, he heard you snap back at Gregory one more time, “And would you call yourself a saint? Don’t think no one’s noticed the looks you’ve shared with Ms. Brown, as a married man, no less!”

He compressed a laugh to his chest as he followed his mother.

The next day he saw a paper with a headline related to a serial killer in Louisiana. He paid for the paper and read another interview with you.

He couldn’t help but wonder what you looked like. What would such a snarky, confident girl look like? He wanted to know. He wanted to meet you. Even in tragedy, you seemed like good company to have.

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Until My Lips Turn Blue

Warnings: This chapter: abortion, death, overall sadness. 18+

Word count: 1,076

Pairings: Soft Steve Rogers / Black reader

Summary: Reader is trying to move on from Steve.

~ indicates time change

- indicates a POV change

A/N: This is the second and last part to my first soft miniseries. Hope you enjoy and had happy holidays; I'll be writing today.

You prayed to God for forgiveness. You didn’t want to do it, but you had no choice. You couldn’t bring the baby into the world you lived in, you’d be subjecting them to pain and suffering for the rest of their life.God understood. He knew you had made the right decision.

You and Raymond stayed together through the years he was drafted, and he sent you a letter proposing. He promised to buy you a ring the second he got back home, but he just couldn’t wait for the war to be over to ask you. You replied with yes, of course, feeling on cloud nine about the new love.

Your fellow nurses saw it, too, nicknaming you Dorothy because of how you skipped as if you had on ruby red shoes. You got sent to help injured soldiers in Germany, but you sadly never saw Raymond. You kept in touch, but you longed to be held by him. 

Since you terminated your pregnancy 3 years ago, you hadn’t thought about Steve. You doubled down on your duties and your new relationship. You didn’t watch or listen to anything, and ignored posters as much as possible to avoid seeing his face.

That was until you got a letter from Peggy Carter. You were sewing a wound from a soldier when a small man in uniform came to deliver to you a letter. Inside it Peggy explained that Captain America, Steve Rogers, had been killed while in action. She was aware of your closeness, and felt it was right to inform you. His funeral would be held on July 23rd, and if you chose to come you’d be on leave for that entire week and you’d be allowed to continue after. 

Emotions you had suppressed for years came flooding back. You started sobbing as your fellow nurses came to your aid. A young nurse took the letter and read it aloud before it was snatched by one of the older women. They looked at each other, giving looks, but nobody spoke up.

~

You decided to take off for Steve’s funeral. You sat in the back as far away from everyone as you could and tried to hide. Tears slipped silently from your eyes as you mourned the loss of the man who taught you how to love. 

Steve’s body was never found because he went into the Arctic. Instead of paying respects to his body, there was a picture of him when you first knew you loved him. Before he was Captain America. Before he was big. Just when he was still that little kid from Broolyn. 

After the funeral, you planned to run as fast as you could before you could be recognized. You heard your name from someone with an accent but kept your head down as you moved through the crowd. You had almost made it to a car waiting for you when a hand grabbed your arm. You turned to be met with a woman with red lips and brown hair. 

She smiled sadly at you, tears were in her eyes. She repeated your name with the same accent from before, and you nodded. “Hi, my name is Peggy Carter. I’m the one who sent you the letter.” 

“Oh, thank you so much. I would’ve never forgiven myself if I would’ve missed this.” You nodded your head and tried to turn to leave again.

“Hang on! Could I maybe talk to you?”

You turned to the woman again. “About what?”

“Just about Steve.”

Your heart quickened. She knew about you two, you just knew it. Was she going to tell? As much as you hate to admit it, Steve could have protected your relationship, even more so as Captain America. With him gone, you were subject to be hung.

“I don’t know, I really have to get back-”

“Please.” You looked in her eyes and saw sincerity. You gave in with a nod, and she took you by the hand and led you into the now empty church. The boldness she had surprised you, but you didn’t say anything.

“So how did you know Steve?” You asked when you entered the chapel. Peggy sat you both down at the front pue, the one directly in front of Steve’s photo, before turning to you. 

“I trained with him but we soon became romantic.”

Your chest tightened and your lips twitched. You know you shouldn’t be mad, hadn’t you done worse? “Oh.”

“But I’ve come to the understanding he loved you way more than he could ever love me.”

Your head shot up to look at her. “W-what? No, Steve and I were just friends. I loved him, but as a nurse loves a patient and hopes for his well-being. That’s all, please don’t believe the rumors.”

Peggy laughed. “Oh trust me, darling, I don’t trust any rumors. How I know what I just said to be true is because Steve told me himself.” You gulped. “I love him deeply, don’t think I don’t, so that’s why I think he should’ve stayed with you. I know you refused him, but he should’ve dropped that Captain America act to be with you. He was nowhere near living his life without you, and if I ever got the chance I’d let him know just that.”

You looked at this woman’s flushed face talking about her dead lover. Your dead lover. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Steve can’t. I’m here to tell you from now on, for Steve’s sake, don’t care about what other people say. It ruins relationships, ones that are the strongest in the world. Love finds a way, and I know if he were still here today Steve would’ve ended up with you in the end. And I’m happy about that, because when he spoke about you I saw him at his happiest. You showing up today proves to me what I was afraid of all this time. The love you two shared.” You blinked back tears as you looked at the woman.

“I’m not telling you how to live your life, I’m just telling you how not to live it. In fear.” She patted your leg before standing up and leaving the church. You looked up at the cross and sobbed. You let out the words you had left unsaid, sounds that fell to deaf ears.

You prayed to God for a time machine so you could right all your wrongs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay I just had to say this. I like to think Steve came back for reader and not Peggy :')

[lau219]

HEADCANNON REQUEST! How would the boys try to make amends (if at all) after a petty argument that has you giving them the cold shoulder?

Cillian: Would find it amusing that you’re acting like that and would just continue to talk to you like nothing was out of the ordinary. He’d intentionally say stuff that he knows would rile you up or that you disagree with until you finally cave and start talking to him again. Once you’re talking once more, you’re apologizing to each other, sharing a sweet hug and kiss.

Emmett: He tries to make amends by doing little things for you like making dinner, taking your car to the gas station and filling up your tank, and letting you choose what you watch on TV that night. While you’re sitting on the couch, he’s reaching for your hand or wrapping his arm around you, and you two are eventually snuggling and apologizing to each other.

Leonard: He buys you flowers and is bringing home takeout from your favorite restaurant for dinner. As you’re unpacking the food, he comes up to you at the counter, hugging you from behind as he apologizes for being an ass. Once you agree and teasingly call him a few more names, you’re giggling as he tickles you as punishment, then you two are making up with a kiss.

Neil: He follows you around everywhere and keeps making sad, apologetic faces at you, even leaning over or moving around in order to get you to meet his eyes and see the pouty faces he’s making. Doesn’t stop until he finally gets you to crack a smile or laugh, and when you do, he’s then dramatically apologizing, pretending he’s gonna die unless you forgive him.

Robert: Creates a romantic night for you at home with an exquisitely set table in front of the fireplace, candles and flowers included. You walk into the condo to find him attempting to cook your favorite dinner, wearing an apron over his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up and the kitchen an absolute mess. As soon as you see him, any lingering annoyance you had is gone. All you can do is kiss him.

Tommy: Comes up behind you and holds you against him, apologizing with his lips pressed to your temple as he tells you that he knows he’s a cranky, stubborn, demanding, unbearable jackass. Says that he has no idea how or why you continue to put up with him, but that he knows he’s the luckiest man on Earth because you do. Allows you to playfully smack the back of his head before he kisses you.

Raymond: Doesn’t mind that you’re giving him the cold shoulder at first, because he’s so stubborn and as equally as frustrated as you, even if he was the one in the wrong. However, when his ego finally relents a bit, he’s trying to make amends, but without words, because he still hates the idea of admitting he’s at fault. Instead, when he gets in bed that night, he’s wrapping his arms around you from behind and holding you close, silently spooning you as you two fall asleep.

Jonathan: Actually, he behaves the same way as you, giving you the silent treatment. When you two argue/disagree, he gets as stubborn and prideful as you, and dare we say a little petty? This lasts for a day or two until neither of you want to keep it up anymore. Finally, when the two of you are in his office, you’re silently walking past him when he reaches out and firmly yet gently pulls you down into the chair with him. As you sit in his lap, you two are apologizing to each other as you stroke the back of his neck and he’s massaging your thighs.

Jackson: “You’re giving me the cold shoulder/silent treatment? You mean I don’t have to hear you bitching and nagging at me anymore? It’s a dream come true!”

@ennui-whimsy-and-me @breakthestereo @newbarrel

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s7 episode 4 "millennium" thoughts

hehehehhe. hehe. i have seen The gif from this episode. i am so excited to learn its context!!!

wow... everyone say thank you very much to mulder and scully for preventing y2k ❤️

i have heard much about the concepts behind the proposed y2k collapse, and they have never entirely made perfect sense to me, but i suppose you had to be there. and i was not. 

from reading the episode description, it seems that in this universe, the year 2000 turned people into zombies? hmm. much to ponder there.

the first two episodes of this season were eh, then the third was good but lacked mulder and scully, so i’m curious to see what this one brings, because i have heard a lot of s7 praise. so let’s see what it’s about!!

post-episode thoughts: rejoice!! a banger ep!!! it had zombies!! injured mulder!! scully with cool scars!! skinner worrying about his best agents!! mulder saying creepy stuff!! scully smiling!! and being a math geek!! and the thing that you know i am referring to vaguely!! a good episode, indeed! one that will be important to me, i can tell!

we open on a funeral in florida. i can’t tell if the dialogue is really quiet or if my laptop is malfunctioning. seems to just be quiet- thank goodness.

it doesn’t seem that mr. johnson here has ever met mrs. crouch, but he showed up at mr. crouch's funeral. he says he worked briefly with him. which doesn’t clear up much. and he leaves. so she is alone with the casket. 

oh, some other guy named raymond is here. he says he is at peace. and also it’s christmas, btw. 

why is mr. johnson lurking!!!! in this funeral home!!! he lifts up the lid to the casket and bro inside looks super dead. hey, i don’t like how mr. johnson is quoting the bible while stripping over a dead body. noooo, don’t take the dead guy’s clothes off too.

THE BONES CRACK??? what is he DOING?? STOP CRACKING HIM??? why is he calling someone on the phone………… and then he closes the casket. okay. didn’t like that. dead mr. crouch was really gray. more so than i feel he should be.

so mr. johnson stole the dead guy’s pin and now is watching, 4 days later, at the graveyard. he gets a call… is it the dead guy?? with the phone he gave him?? so he walks out with a shovel!!!!

omfg…. did they coordinate this pre-death… kinda badass, in a way. but also fucked up. because his wife was so sad!!!

intro was very short today!!! damn!! i nearly got whiplash!!

it’s december 30th, and scully is here. if she is in florida, i wonder why she is wearing a jacket. but she’s committed to the look above all else, i suppose. and she lifts the caution tape up herself. for shame! mulder, this is your sacred duty!

pretty scully…….

oh no, raymond the funeral home guy is trying to assure her that he did NOT bury a living man, as the rumors suggest!! also, dead mr. crouch was FBI, it seems? scully is confused LMAO. BAHAHAHAAA, WHAT WAS THAT FACE SHE MADE!! I’M CRYINGGGGG

(scully shouts into the hole) “mulder, have you been spreading rumors?” (mulder pops into frame at the bottom of the hole) “why? you hear any good ones lately?” LMAOOOO 

BAHAHA “not particularly” yeah. allegedly being buried alive does NOT impress her.

AWWW, he wishes her merry christmas, by the way. and she says thank you! and wishes him one as well. bet nothing can top last year, though.

oooo, it looks like someone was trapped in there, trying to get out, and the fingerprints on the casket match those of the dead man! mulder confirms that he is NOT the source of the rumors, but rather, they are coming from the police department. AND the fingerprints are on the headstone!! they're neon. is that an FBI tool used to highlight evidence, or did mr. crouch have nasty neon stuff on his hands when he returned from the dead...?

scully thinks the evidence was faked- she's not sure why, though. but they see what looks like a trail of blood on the grass nearby!!! ewww.

mr. johnson is somewhere else, quoting the bible again. uhhhh. some sort of zombie figure is rising up behind him as he drives into georgia.

hmm. back to the bureau.

agent crouch served for 21 years, retired, and was recently found dead. JESUS, that photo of his dead body was NASTY. y’all did NOT have to show all that... the fuck?!?!?!

skinner is here. and so are some other rando agents. mulder doesn’t think it’s a grave robbery- it was necromancy. the other agents seem uncomfy with this. spooooooky.

he claims the blood they found in the grass was from a goat, and it was used to draw a magic circle- but the rain washed most of it away. “the blood attracts the spirits of the undead, while the circle focuses the necromancer’s power while protecting him from the spirits that he’s conjuring” <- are y’all writing that down? ✍️ 

this rando dude’s faaaaaace.... he cannot believe what he is hearing 

ah, scully, (mostly) so even-keeled: “obviously, there are clear ritualistic elements to this crime. the question is: why were they directed at raymond crouch?” <- the perfect response!

ohhhh, skinner pulls them aside…. are they in trouble?!

“what if it looked something like this?” he shows them a picture of an ouroboros!!! so they are not in trouble, then!!! he must need them for a special task.

“the alchemists favored it”, mulder declares. sigh. i need that man.

but not as bad as i need scully in a turtleneck. fuuuuck.

skinner says it was the logo for the millennium group- who were former FBI agents who offered consulting services to law enforcement. hmm. that feels like it shouldn't be allowed.

but somehow, they got a bad reputation. maybe they were a cult. which of course, mulder has heard the rumors about!

the group dissolved a couple months ago- a likely time for them to go underground if they were based on the end of the millennium, no? skinner reveals he has info on 3 other grave desecrations!!!! all with former FBI agents!!! and all were recent suicides!! 

this is very SENSITIVE due to their ties to the bureau, so don’t be mean to him, mulder! he tasks them with investigating and keeping a low profile. mulder says he knows where to start.

they go to a psychiatric hospital in virgina. always a good place to begin. they’re here to see a criminal profiler that worked in the department before mulder did- allegedly the greatest they’ve ever produced! he checked himself in for a 30 day stay, but mulder says he used to consult for the millennium group. and later fought to bring them down. HMM… why do i feel like he’s gonna be dead when they get there?

mulder saying good morning to the guy muttering in the hallway…. he is a kind guy sometimes 💗

“single-minded. sounds like someone i know”, scully says <- don’t flirt in the mental hospital, y’all

they meet a guy named frank black, who to me looks like the undertaker from earlier, but maybe a lot of white men look the same in a way. he’s watching football. he does not seem to give a fuck. 

mulder knows his sports teams, though. trust that.

frank says he recognizes the pictures of the men they show him and then does not elaborate. i respect that. he doesn’t wanna chat. but scully must try and get more info, as this is her job.

frank does not want to help- he wants to put his life back together. he says no thank you. but they only have 2 days before the new year and more potential killings!!

“it’s first and ten. just let me watch this game in peace” “it’s THIRD and TEN. notre dame” “happy new year” “same to you” <- is he… saying something in football code?? mulder storms off and scully follows. he was MAD. said something about him being "not what i'd hoped", oooo boy, that's nasty work. frank pissed him off!

in maryland, mr. johnson is pulled over on the side of the road, fixing a flat. a cop stops him. but smells something very gross. and he sees flies…. what’s in the truck? oh, the cop knows something is up. and he starts chanting the same prayer. 

bleh. dead guy reveal! ahhh!! he keeps saying his words and the zombie bites the cop!!! and he was standing in a circle!!! to focus his power, i guess. 

mulder ponders this upon arriving at the crime scene. he found the salt circle. salt, not blood! scully points out this noticeable difference. mulder says it was to protect himself against “whatever it was that did that” (pan over to a lot of blood on the ground) hmm. gross!

a cop flags them over. run, agents! in your billowing coats!!! gag!!! they found a body!! with bite marks!!! 

EWWW... they pull something out of his mouth and the way the lips moved was NASTY. it is a paper with a bible verse written on it, and one of the cops knows exactly which one it is. “book of revelation, chapter one, verse 18” “go fighting irish” <- SO FRANK WAS SPEAKING IN FOOTBALL CODE!!! but to what end?!

they go back to visit frank, who is sipping his milk. “what are you afraid of?” 

HA! scully figures it out- she is so good at figuring things out. he’s in a custody battle and doesn’t want to lose rights to his daughter. they claimed he was an unfit father for being obsessed with conspiracy. he says they were right. so he will do anything they ask, but never mention the millennium group again.

i get his point, but also, they do need him to help out because people are dying, not for some frivolous reason, so maybe if he could make ONE exception, that could be cool.

mulder has gotten him to crack with a promise of secrecy. revelations, heaven and hell, a battle. the four deaths were those who believed, unlike the others in the millennium group, that man must take an active role in bringing about the end times. oooo, the four horsemen…. “it must begin with the dawn of the millennium” or not at all. 

scully seems to be pondering this, in her catholic way.

he proposes that the necromancer is NOT from the millennium group- they hired him. he thinks he’s doing god’s work. hmm. didn’t know you could place an ad in the paper and find one that easily. he seems to be just some guy.

but frank begins to profile him. he talks of a man leading a solitary existence, working with death- and we see mr. johnson working with taxidermy! he did what he could to prevent the deputy from coming back to life. and he’ll return the body. 

they plan to go to the morgue- and mulder says they must track down the not-dead bodies first before locating a murderer. BAHAHA, tell him, scully, about these cultists mangling biblical prophecies. “and besides, 2001 is actually the start of the new millennium” <-NERD! nerd. said while blushing.

LMAOOOOO “nobody likes a math geek, scully” but you do. fucker. him saying that with a smile.... he's down bad

they’re going to split up: scully to the morgue, mulder to find the necromancer. 

and he asks for a favor: PLEASE do not let anyone take out the staples from the deputy’s mouth. “please? just humor me?” <- i like that tactic- saying "please" and asking for her to humor him instead of diving into long explanations of zombie lore. they're in a rush, after all!

BLEAUGHHH, SOMEONE IS TAKING THEM OUT ALREADY. ohhh, it's someone who isn't scully doing an autopsy- this feels very strange. BLEUGH, she opens his mouth, and it is filled with SALT.

scully calls. as the person doing the autopsy removes the salt. noooooooo. please listen to my friend scully! who calls AGAIN. she goes to listen to the message, asking her to please not autopsy the murder victim. BUT IT’S TOO LATE. THE ZOMBIE GOT HER!!!!!!

scully rolls up, drawing her gun as she finds the dead bodies, and the phone ringing off the hook, surrounded by blood. the woman who was doing the autopsy is still alive!!! but the necromancer is here!! as is the undead guy!! and shooting at him in the chest doesn’t prevent him from grabbing scully!!!

unhand her at once, you scoundrel!!!

the woman doing the autopsy is brought into the hospital, which is good. but where is scully?? 

skinner is here looking for her!!! he looks at a dead body… but it’s not her!!! she’s alive, but with scratches on her neck.

omfg..... skinner moved her hair to look at them…. something very intimate about that. he asks how she’s feeling. 

the dead body is the sheriff’s deputy! “he was dead, and then somehow he wasn’t”

i am distracted by the neck scars. sorry. she looks cool as fuck.

and of COURSE she shot the three rounds right into his chest. she knows no other way than perfect aim! but it had no effect.

god. she’s so pretty. sighs wistfully.

the necromancer shot the deputy in the head and saved her!!! but why?? he got away. and did not explain his actions.

skinner wants to talk to mulder… but he isn’t picking up his phone!!! 

he’s busy. got his sunglasses on. checking every single landowner in the area. and he has no service. but he seems to have found the guy! yeah, you also look cool as fuck in your shades, mulder, but not as cool as dramatic neck scar scully. 

he’s going through this guy necromancer mr. johnson's trash…. finds a ton of salt!!!! and puts some in his pockets. hope it’s enough to protect him from evil in the case of emergency.

bro crawls up the fence. okay, spider money!!

mr. johnson is coming home, though!!!

mulder gets inside his house, finding lots and lots of taxidermy. but mr. johnson pulls in, and sees mulder’s car!!!

mulder is breaking into a cellar of some sort. BLEUGH!!! a hand reaches up for him!!! many hands!!!! the zombies are trying to eat him!!! and then mr. johnson shuts the door!!!

he fires a ton of shots!!! but we know they are kind of immune to those unless they hit the head!!! 

scully goes to frank, asking if mulder has stopped by. she needs his help!! she is not going to take no for an answer. she asks if he thinks they can bring about the end times…. “but what if it were true? good and evil… which would prevail?” <- FUCK! scully ruminating on the nature of the universe and the role of god... i will eat it up every time. he still doesn’t want to help. 

oh…. he checks himself out…. maybe he will?

BRO!! THEY HAVE ALMOST EATEN MULDER’S ARM!!! he is trapped in that basement!!! 

frank goes to see the necromancer mr. johnson!!! and necromancer says thank god, we’d almost given up on you.

so frank was either wrong or lying in his profile- this guy was a member of the group, not just someone hired. that is how it seems to me, anyway, because why else would mr. johnson know him? or maybe they hired him before frank left? idk. hard to say. anyway, he says there’s someone in the basement- he’s killed one of the members. yeahhhh, that’s my mulder!!!

“but you’re here. now we’ll have four” LEAVE FRANK ALONE????

they step inside. “you were meant to be the fourth; i’d always known that” <- so that must be why he shot the zombie attacking scully- so frank could be the last horseman. but ohhh, franks’s confessing he sent mulder here!!! frank says he can’t walk the straight and narrow now that he knows they’ve succeeded. hey, what does that mean….? is he telling the truth? will he go along with their apocalyptic schemes?

necromancer mr. johnson says they took frank's daughter from him and murdered his wife over this?! is that true? seems like wild information to reveal in the third act.

and he pulls out a gun… saying there will be justice in the next world. frank says he’s ready. the necromancer starts changing. but frank gets him first!!! 

skinner calls scully. he has news: all four victims received calls from the same number frank had while at the hospital! trace that phone, she demands!

frank is tying up the necromancer, who is begging him not to do this- there is no future in this world, he says; only uncertainty and pain.

frank opens the door to find mulder… no response…. is he okay?!? yes! mulder says he’s down here, and the zombies are all around. frank tosses a flare. they’re hiding from him. he shoots one in the head!!! a frank W!! only two more!! and scully is on the way!!! 

following a map as she drives!!! tracing the route with her finger! that is my beloved!!

bleh!!! mulder had to tie his own arm tourniquet with his tie. a resourceful fellow. but frank gets jumped by a zombie!!! hurry, scully!!! 

she picks the lock instead of climbing the fence, which i think is a fun difference between her and mulder.

aha! mulder gets up and shoots one of the other zombies in the head!! or at least close to the head!! but the last one comes!! and he has no bullets!

YEAHHH, SCULLY GETS THEIR ASS!! and it seems like frank is bleeding from the head but otherwise okay???

the ball….. for new years… soon it shall drop. frank is watching in a hospital waiting room. scully comes to see him!! necromancer mr. johnson has been taken for a psych evaluation!!

scully says someone is here to see him. AWWW, it's his daughter :,) scully smiling as they hug…. someone shoot me.

OH… mulder comes out just then and smiles at them, too… stop. STOP. I’LL SCREAM. his arm is all wrapped up. frank heads out with the girl.

the ball… it drops. it’s 2000!!!! big things happening!!! he looks at her…. THEY KISSSSSSS and smile. “the world didn’t end” “no, it didn’t” OH MY GODDDDD

and they walk out, with his functional arm around her shoulder.

fuck. i gotta watch that again. 

he moved first… he was watching her… and then they both smile…

“the world didn’t end” being more about them actually making a move than it is about the potential threat of y2k. oh, fuck me.

AND SHE LOOKS AWAY as he wraps his arm around her. and he pushes the door ahead of her with his one working arm.

FUCK.

yeah. i had seen the gifs. but it is even better in person. RAAAAH.

and i know their dumbasses will NOT talk about it-

because that’s just what friends do, right? friends sometimes kiss each other on new year’s. and smile at cute children being reunited with their parents. absolutely. entirely platonic. it’s been known to happen 

(- that is my impression of what they were both thinking when they finally got to bed that night and couldn’t fall asleep)

ahhhh….. a kiss. that actually happened! in this universe!!!

so funny that they were going to kiss in FTF, but a bee got in the way, so we had to have a whole season of angst before that could happen. and as much as i would love to think that they’re both going to have an "oh shit, wait, i really liked that, did they like it too? i knew i would, i imagined it for a long time, but shit, shit, shit, it was better than i thought…" type moment, i KNOW they won’t talk about it. LMAO.

unless they prove me wrong!! i would love to be proved wrong!! i invite them to prove me wrong!!

aww. kiss aside, this was a pretty good episode. zombies!!! rawr!!! growl!!! scully gets cool neck scratches!! and saves the day with her sharpshooting!! skinner gives them a top secret task and then worries about his agents!! frank had an emotional arc that was compelling even though we just met the guy!! which is hard to do!! mulder got to say creepy things and climb a fence and use salt magic to keep himself safe!!! and he wanted to kiss her so bad and he did!! and the world didn’t end!!! 

oh…. i would love to read the fic on their internal musings as to what happens next. what they say when they see each other next? meeting in the office. still sleepy. still in pain. still riding that high. blushing. waiting to see who will address it. and neither of them brave enough to do so. 

RAAAAH. YEAHHHHHHH!!!! I LOVE BEING ALIVE IT!!! HAS THESE FICTIONAL LOSERS FOR ME TO THINK ABOUT!!!!

mmm. i shall sleep contentedly this evening.

LMAO, WHAT?? i scrolled down to see what the next episodes said and i saw something about getting trapped in a sexy video game?? HELLO??? WHO WROTE THIS SHIT?? 

and also??? did i see donnie? from irresistible??? are they going to revisit him?? that episode is SO important to scully’s character- i really hope they do it justice. i would have preferred if they didn’t bring pusher back; i felt like his original episode was better. and there is a cops episode??? and scully with a former lover??? people like that episode- 17, right?? and they revisit their very first case in the finale?? but i was told that if i want to stop, i should stop BEFORE requiem. which is the finale. and i probably won’t. but maybe i will? idk. i don’t have a ton of time anymore……. 

hmm. there is SO much to ponder here.

i clicked to peek at the episodes in season 8 and saw a few things. woah…….

yeah. idk what i’ll do! but there’s time. the show isn’t going anywhere. hmm. it’s worth it to know what happens… even just so you know how it should be rewritten in an AU. right?

ohohohoho. the world is lowkey my oyster.