#The Story of the Kelly Gang

[bobcatmoran]

Apparently you can watch what's still extant of the world's first feature-length film, "The Story of the Kelly Gang" made in Australia in 1906, on YouTube. It's a stitched-together amalgam of the surviving footage and intertitles, publicity shots, the program booklet (which was A Thing at the time), newspaper photos, and intertitles added to fill in what's missing. Originally, the film was about an hour long, and about 15 minutes of film have been saved from various sources, including a segment that was literally found in the trash.

For the standards of the time, it's a very exciting film! Some badass women, outlaws fighting The Law, and a storyline so scandalous (glorifying criminals! How dare!) that it was banned in parts of Australia upon release.

Unfortunately, due to it being a 117 year old film, some of the surviving filmstock has deteriorated heavily and the segments from 24:23-26:39, 29:00-29:45 and 30:05-the end are not gonna be good times to watch if you have visual sensitivities to flicker. Almost all of the film save the very edges is heavily decayed in those sections, which is a shame since it's kind of the climax of the film. They even got actual armor from the Ned Kelly gang for the actor to wear in the last bit, since the events the film is based upon were only 20-odd years in the past when it was made. OTOH, at least we have that much, which is, again, impressive for a film this age, especially one that was made about a topic that was Unacceptable by certain parts of society at the time.

[lifewithaview]

The Story of the Kelly Gang (1906)

The Story of the Kelly Gang, directed by Charles Tait in 1906, is the first full-length narrative feature film produced anywhere in the world. Only fragments of the original production of more than one hour are known to exist and are preserved at the National Film and Sound Archive, Canberra. The original poster and publicity booklet provide confirmation of those fragments’ authenticity and together this material represents the unique and irreplacable beginning of feature film culture.

The original film was over an hour at a time when films rarely exceeded few minutes. Only fragments of the original production of more than one hour are known to exist and are preserved at the National Film and Sound Archive The restoration is now 32 minutes long. Considered as one of the first feature film in history.

Stars : Elizabeth Tait - John Tait - Nicholas Brierley

[chrliekclly]

[this-boys]

George MacKay attends the dunhill & BSBP pre-BAFTA filmmakers dinner & party at Bourdon House on February 15, 2023 in London, England.

[wareham-community-television]

Start the week with a fun fact!

Over an hour originally, under 20 minutes of the film survive today, 117 years later.

[arolesbianism]

Things I realized I forgot to post part 200 billion (this one's from september wow)

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Invisible Smoke - Two

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he continues to pry.  Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 9.7k A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter, I truly wasn’t expecting it. I apologize for the wait, but hopefully the length will make up for it!  Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of terminal and life-threatening illnesses, and combative fluff :)

The ceremony was wonderful if not a little long winded but you hardly cared as you stood with the rest of the crowd to cheer as Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson presented the Daggers, officially a squadron of Lieutenant Commanders. You caught Rooster’s eye, having watched Captain Mitchell pin the leaves to his uniform, and saw that he still had tears lining his lower lashes. You winked at him, earning a small smile and a bit of pink in his cheeks. You were so proud.

“I’m so happy for him!” Came a warbled voice and you held the phone in your hand a little higher. This wasn’t exactly how you thought you’d meet Jake’s family (not that you had ever given it much thought, really) but when he’d explained that his family couldn’t make it out to the ceremony for one reason or another, you had volunteered to make sure their FaceTime was at the right angle so they could see everything. There were four of them all crammed together—his mother, Sandra, and three sisters, Mia, Kelly, and Alex—staring at what you assumed was an iPad with how Sandra was holding it; blonde heads swiveling together to track Jake’s movements on the stage had been quite the spectacle but when you had glanced up to see Jake looking at you with the biggest, brightest smile you had ever seen it had nearly made you drop the phone.

Embarrassing.

As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd started to disperse, you lingered near your chair and watched as everyone else reunited with the family that came to watch the ceremony, shook hands with the brass, or hurried off to the Hard Deck to celebrate because Captain Mitchell had, unsurprisingly, sweet talked Penny into letting them take over (again). You waved Tasha on when she went to wait for you and she frowned but did eventually leave, looping her arm through her older sister’s before disappearing out into the parking lot.

“Is my son making you wait?”

You glanced down at the phone with a smile. “He’s schmoozing with some of the big wigs. I’m in no rush to go anywhere.”

Sandra hummed, green eyes narrowing behind her glasses as she paused. It was almost comical how much the expression reminded you of Jake when he was thinking of something. “Well, sugar, I hate to ask this, but could you remind me of your name?”

You gave it readily but added, “most call me Punch.”

Mia once again appeared on screen, leaning down with a matching squint. “Punch?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story but-”

“Oh, we’ve heard of you.”

That had your brow pinching and you fought the urge to bring the phone closer to your face as if that would help you decipher the look on Jake’s sister’s face. All you managed to say was, “oh?”

A smile started to stretch across Mia’s face. “Don’t worry. All good things.”

The phone was snatched out of your hands before you could ask just what the hell that meant and you turned to see Jake smiling at his family on the little screen. “Hi, mama.”

“Jacob Seresin!” Sandra started. “Did you make Punch wait when she was doing you a favor?”

If possible, Jake’s smile widened and his sea glass gaze shifted to you. “Already ganging up on me with my mom?”

“Your family is a delight,” you drawled. “You must be adopted.”

There was an answering laugh that had Jake’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink before he nudged at your arm with the flat of his palm. “Get out of here.”

“It was nice to meet you, Sandra!” You hollered, already turned toward the door.

Sandra’s laugh rang out again and you walked out to the car, thankful to see a few small groups of people still milling about in the warm San Diego sun. You were quick to get into your car and lock the door behind you before curling your hands over the steering wheel. Your next breath was a slow, stuttering sigh. It had only been four days since you had seen him in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Lurking.

Smirking.

And it had been four days since you felt like you could actually breathe. A familiar pressure on your chest had been your constant companion. You knew it was part of your anxiety, a physical manifestation of your fear. You were still on that metaphorical cliff, waiting to fall. You leaned back against the seat and tried to drag in another breath but it was like your lungs couldn’t expand. Pressing your hands over your stomach you tried again and again and again until the ache lessened enough for you to continue to pretend.

Pretend to be normal.

Pretend to be okay.

You’d nearly blown it when Jake had walked you out of the Hard Deck. But maybe he just thought you really wanted to get away from him and brushed it off, thinking you were in a mood. He had only texted to make sure you made it home okay and you’d spent the rest of the night on the couch with a baseball bat clutched in a shaking grip. But you had continued on. Going to work. Putting on a smile and a brave face. Keeping your mouth shut. It was better this way.

With another stilted breath, you grabbed your bag from your backseat and changed out of your uniform and into the dress you’d picked for the night before driving off base. The Hard Deck’s parking lot was already starting to reach capacity so you took the first space you could find and smoothed out your dress as your car beeped, letting you know the doors were locked. The inside of the naval bar was just as busy as the parking lot and you dodged an elbow of someone playing darts not two steps in. Weaving through the crowd, you waved at a few familiar faces—mostly other ADs grouped near one of the windows—and waited to finally make it up to the bar. Jimmy and Penny were both fixing drinks and a few other employees were picking up empty glasses left abandoned on high tops and booths. It might be a minute.

“Hey.”

You looked to the side with a smile and pulled Bob into a hug which he quickly reciprocated. “Hey yourself, Lieutenant Commander Floyd.”

Bob’s cheeks flushed a tiny bit and he adjusted his grip on the hat beneath his arm as you stepped back. “You’ve got to meet my brother before he flies out.”

“Of course. But first, let me buy you a drink.” And as he opened his mouth to protest, you shook your head. “You wouldn’t let me do anything else so I’m buying you a drink.” Bob sighed but dutifully followed you up to the bar and let you pay for his ginger ale but grumbled when you insisted on buying his brother’s drink, too. You also had Penny put together a round for the Daggers you knew would be circling the pool tables soon enough. Bob helped you carry everything toward the table where his brother was waiting. You’d ‘met’ Bob’s brother, Harrison, a few times when you accidentally barged in on Bob FaceTiming his family but it was nice to finally meet him in person. He was just as charming as Bob but had a few more extroverted tendencies and regaled you with stories about the year he took off before medical school to ‘visit’ Bob who was stationed in Hawaii and spent the entire time learning to surf and trying to teach Bob, too.

“I never quite got the hang of it,” Bob admitted, still sipping on his ginger ale.

“You tried your best!” Harrison said with a kind smile. But soon his phone was beeping and he grimaced before standing from the table. “All right. I’ve gotta catch my flight back to New York.”

“Let me know when you land,” Bob murmured as he stood and wrapped him in a hug.

You might have heard a muffled ‘of course,’ before they separated but you definitely heard Harrison say, “I’m so proud of you.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder again before turning to you with a smile and he surprised you with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“That’s mostly Phoenix,” you said with a smile.

But Harrison shook his head. “I’m sure it is a team effort. Now, keep in touch, okay?” And then he breezed away, disappearing into the crowd and probably into a waiting taxi outside.

You spoke for a little longer, mostly about the ceremony and how Cyclone actually seemed like a human instead of a robot the last handful of days but Admiral Cain still seemed like a douchebag of the highest order. By now the rest of the Daggers had arrived, to much fanfare in the bar, and would sometimes filter by the table to grab a beer and chat for a bit—Natasha’s sister was a riot and had Tasha’s blushing a surprising shade of scarlet after telling you and Bob a particularly embarrassing story about “baby Tash” trying to jump off the roof with a bedsheet cape before she, too, had to leave to catch a flight back home. And you almost hated that you knew the exact moment Jake entered the bar, like you couldn’t help but turn toward him whenever he appeared, like a sunflower facing the sun. Again…embarrassing. However, you noticed Bob kept looking at the group of women circled around one of the high tops and you nudged his shoulder with your own. “Don’t,” he muttered.

“What?” You asked, fighting a smile.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He took another sip of his ginger ale and shook his head. “It isn’t happening.”

“And why not? You deserve someone nice. They look nice…for the most part,” you added with a scrunch of your nose. “Maybe the blonde in the red dress looks a bit mean, but the rest of them look nice. Want me to go over there and test the waters? I can see which ones would be down to handle that sword-”

“Punch!” It was honestly impressive how quickly Bob’s face went a violent shade of scarlet and he nearly dropped his pop.

“You got a sword with your promotion. I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I am a lady, Bobert.”

He snorted and knuckled at his glasses to push them up again. “Sure. Sure you are, Punch.”

Then you laughed. You laughed and that weight in your chest cracked and fizzled out. For now, you could breathe again. Bob eventually got you up and away from the table with the promise to take it easy on you with a game of pool—he lied. The WSO absolutely demolished you in an embarrassingly quick game.

“That was brutal,” Tasha said as she grabbed a beer.

“It was.” You handed her the cue with a wince. “But, to make it up to me, Bob now has to let me test the waters with the ladies he’s been eyeing all night.”

Tasha glanced over at the group when you tilted your head in their direction and hummed. “Not the blonde in the red dress. She looks mean.”

Bob just groaned. “Please keep the sword innuendos to a minimum.”

“Why? You need someone who knows how to handle that ceremonial saber-”

The sound of someone choking on their beer had you all turning to see Jake wiping at his face. Tasha, smirking, smacked him on the back a few times to ‘help.’ He nudged her away with a halfhearted scowl as he licked the last few drops from his lips. “Jesus.”

“What?”

Jake’s smirk vanished but you could tell he was fighting to keep it down as his brows furrowed in an echo of a certain Admiral’s disappointed frown. “So crass-”

“Oh, blow me, Ken. It isn’t like you don’t have a list of sword-related pickup lines or nicknames at the ready.”

Tasha laughed into her beer and you felt a little zing of pride—you always did when you made her laugh.

“You did call that one barracks bunny a sword swallower,” Rooster said, cutting into conversation with ease. And it was then that the party really seemed to start and you let Tasha pull you into a game of darts (you lost) before you did actually try to get a read on the group of women and deciding that, actually, they all seemed a little mean and they were more interested in Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson anyway, if their drunken whispers were anything to go by.

You’d find a lady for Bob. One day.

After watching Bradley and Tasha beat Billy and Neil at pool and finally finishing your drink, you remembered Sarah’s invitation and stepped to Bradley’s side again as he went to grab another beer from the table. As soon as you were within reach, he slung an arm over your shoulders and hauled you closer. “You doing okay?” He asked, voice low.

You sagged in his grip, a reaction you couldn’t fight. He made you feel safe. He always did. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

You winced at the tone. He had an innate way of knowing you were feeling off. And you hadn’t been exactly subtle in how you were acting lately. But you didn’t want to put more on Bradley’s plate, not now. Not when he was high on the new hardware on his collar. “Yeah,” you said, trying to sound convincing before changing the subject. “Sarah’s throwing an engagement party for Junior. She said I could bring someone and I thought you’d like to go? I know it’s been a minute since you’ve seen them all.”

Bradley set down his beer with a nod, licking the droplets from his lips. “When is it?”

“Friday.” And your heart plummeted as Bradley’s face crumpled and his arm slipped from your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Punch, but I promised Mav I’d help him haul in a part for his plane—we’re leaving at like five in the morning on Saturday.”

You nodded as you pinched your lower lip between your fingers until Bradley swatted it away with a knowing look. “I can ask Bob-”

“Bob and Phoenix have been asked to speak in Annapolis this weekend.”

Fuck. Fuck! You knew that. How could you forget? He’d been so excited when he got the call to lead a few classes back at his alma mater. “This is fine. I can just go by my-”

“I’ll go with you.”

**

Jake heard something in your neck pop with how quickly you turned your head to look at him. “What?”

And Jake almost recoiled at the amount of shock in your tone. “I mean, if you need someone to go with you.” Then, when neither you or Bradley said anything, Jake was about to retract his offer, already feeling stupid for opening his mouth in the first place. Usually he’d be more conscious to not let anyone know he was eavesdropping but the four beers he’d had probably loosened his tongue and he’d pounced at the opportunity to take you anywhere before he could stop himself with thoughts of repercussions. “I-”

“You’d do that?” And Jake hated how small your voice was, barely heard over the noise of the bar.

“Yeah. ‘Course.” And your smile was near blinding, twisting at something Jake didn’t want to acknowledge behind his ribs.

He listened intently to what the party was about—engagement for your not-actual-little brother, and when you’d pick him up—“I’m driving, you’re going to have to deal with it,” and what was expected—“just have a good time. And sign the card I’m buying, you can take half the credit for the gift I’m bringing, too.”

It sounded like it could be a good time. But if you smiled at him like that again, he’d probably agree to anything. You also told Jake to be ready by 18:20 next Friday so you’d be on time for the party and then Jake tried to ignore how that familiar feeling came roaring back in the confines of his chest as he watched you walk back toward the bar.

A hand clapping on his shoulder pulled Jake from admiring how your hips swayed with each step and he turned to see Rooster still standing beside him. His hazel eyes went from Jake to you and then back to Jake. “Let’s have a chat, Bagman.”

Fuck.

**

By the time you swiped a bit of tinted balm over your lips, you’d told yourself sixteen times that you were making a mistake but, “it would be fine.” You checked your watch and nodded: you were still on time. Early, actually. Jake would meet you at the Hard Deck and then you’d drive you both over to the Kazansky home to save room on the driveway—knowing Sarah, she’d probably invited half the people in her contacts and would still consider it a small party.

And you were contemplating texting Jake and telling him to forget it and that you’d go by yourself. It was too risky. Too intimate. Accepting his offer to go with you had been stupid. And choosing a dress that you knew made your tits look good because you’d caught Jake looking at you the last time you wore a dress like this was also very, very stupid. But when your phone chirped and Jake’s text lit up the screen—“Ready when you are, Punch!”—you knew it was too late.

And really…didn’t you deserve to have a good night?

He had robbed you of enough, hadn’t he? You could have one night. And there was a small bit of you that hoped he was satisfied with just scaring you once.

When you pulled into the Hard Deck’s parking lot, you were barely stopped before the passenger side door opened and Jake slid in with a bright smile and filled your car with the scent of his cologne—leather and oak moss and something distinctly Jake. “Ready?”

“Do you usually hurl yourself into moving vehicles or is that a recent addition to your lengthy list of ways you are a man-child?”

Jake’s smile widened. “You keeping lists about me?”

You resisted the urge to smack his arm and scowled instead as you reached into the backseat to grab the card you’d picked and made sure to hit him in the chest with it and the pen you wrestled from the bottom of your purse. “Sign that.”

Jake clicked the pen several times as he read over the mushy words Hallmark had written for a recently engaged couple and you drummed your fingers against the steering wheel as you slowed to a stop at a red light. If he said anything about the paragraph you wrote you might just-

“This is a nice card.” He then signed his name with a flourish and tucked it into the envelope. “What gift did you get them?”

“We got them an engagement photo shoot with a photographer who I may or may not have bombarded with emails and bribed after realizing Taylor follows her on instagram.” Were you proud of that? Not really. But you had felt extraordinarily bad after realizing that Junior had texted you after he proposed and you hadn’t responded until two weeks later. You knew he’d say there was nothing to apologize for but you still felt the need to make up for it.

“No, Punch,” he started. “My mama told me to never take credit for something I didn’t do. That gift is from you. I got them this.” He held up a bottle of champagne that you knew cost a few hundred dollars with a little silver bow taped to the neck. How you managed to miss that when he basically threw himself into your car, you’d never know (you were probably distracted by the way his thighs flexed beneath his nice trousers).

But it didn’t matter. You sealed the card after slipping the photographer’s business card inside. “It would’ve been fine, you know. But I’m sure they’ll love the champagne, too.”

Jake’s chest puffed a bit at that and you tried to not look too much at the tan skin that was revealed with the movement nor the silver links of his dog tags you knew were hiding beneath his obscenely tight shirt. You failed. And when he caught you looking, his smirk returned.

You couldn’t have that. “Careful, Ken. If you pop a button I’ll have to drop you on the nearest street corner.”

And then the asshole actually unbuttoned the next button. “I like to think I’d be a high-end escort. Like for senators.”

The answering laugh punched out of you before you could even pretend to not find him funny.

The rest of the drive was spent slapping his hand away from the radio when he said your taste in music was terrible—even when you caught him singing along with Stevie on your preferred classic rock station. It was good and easy and you almost hated it by the time you parked outside Sarah’s house, managing to snag a place beside the mailbox.

Jake was at your side before you reached the front door and knocked his foot into yours when you sucked in a breath before knocking at the front door. Yeah. Coming with him was a mistake. A beautiful, terrible mistake.

**

Jake had never been to the Kazansky home. On the ride over, you gave him a rundown on who he needed to know—Missus Kazansky, Junior and his fiancée Taylor, and younger sister Lily—and how to behave. It was mostly good natured ribbing and an actual threat to push him out a window if he hit on Lily.

“Okay, no Lily, but Missus Kazansky is free game?” That quip had earned him a glare so intense he would swear he saw his life flash before his eyes.

Worth it.

After all, it wasn’t all that often that Jake got to see you like this. Sure, he saw you in uniform on base and you had the innate ability to have a spare change of clothes wherever you went so you were never in uniform when you didn’t need to be so he got to see you in civvies often. But that was usually jeans and t-shirts. Maybe that one pair of shorts he thought about when he couldn’t sleep, if he was lucky.

But right now you were in another dress and he could see the thighs that he definitely didn’t dream about peeking out from the skirt as you shifted your weight from foot to foot. You were…

He couldn’t say gorgeous.

He couldn’t say beautiful.

He couldn’t say stunning.

So, you were special. And right now, as you waited at his side for the door to open, he could smell your perfume. Gardenias and sunshine.

His grandmother had special flower beds just for her gardenias—she once said that the soil in southern Texas was too acidic for her favorite flower but she was determined to have them near the ranch and had planter boxes filled with specialty soil and heaps of the flowers. All of his favorite memories of home were filled with the scent of the small white blooms.

And then there was you. You smelled like home.

The door opened and a petite blonde smiled at you before wrapping you in a quick hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you know you don’t need to knock.”

“Old habits,” you murmured as you returned the hug. When you stepped back, you gestured to Jake. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He’s part of the Dagger Squadron with Bradley. Jake, this is Sarah Kazansky.”

After shaking her hand and murmuring his thanks for letting him tag along, Jake stood a little straighter as Missus Kazansky’s eyes looked him over. “You’re Hangman, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you from Pete.” Then, without giving any indication as to what that meant, she waved you in and Jake followed suit. The inside of the large house was filled with people with champagne flutes in their hands as soft pop ballads from decades ago filtered through a hidden sound system, crooning about love.

You complimented Sarah on the tasteful decorations and earned yourself a motherly pat to your cheek before she called out for someone. There was an answering squeal and you shoved the card in your hand to Jake just in time to brace as a younger woman wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!”

You laughed and returned the hug before holding her at arm's length with a smile. “Pasadena looks good on you! And you’re so close to graduating!”

This must be Lily, then. Jake watched you talk with her for a moment, seeing you smile as you traded a few short stories and Lily tugged at the skirt of your dress with a mischievous look in her eye. “You’ve gotta tell me where you bought this. You’re a bombshell.”

You waved away the compliment—as Jake knew you often did—and rattled off some store name as Lily shook her head.

“No, no. Take the compliment. You look gorgeous.” Then Lily’s sharp eyes moved to Jake. Jesus Christ. She was Ice Man’s daughter—that look was cold and calculating. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

And Jake’s mouth opened-

“Lily, c’mon. Stop it.” Your voice was nearly a whine. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He is one of the Daggers with me at Top Gun. Jake, this is Lily Kazansky. She’s about to graduate from Cal Tech with her degree in Engineering and applied science.”

A matching smile pushed at Lily’s mouth as her eyes raked over him. While Jake usually preened over such an obvious once-over, there was absolutely nothing wanting in her gaze. And maybe having you standing beside him helped…but he wasn’t going to address that. “Hangman. Yeah. I’ve heard of you.” Then Lily’s gaze flickered to you. “Enjoy the party. I think Mom needs my help in the kitchen.” And then she flounced away as you sighed.

“She’s…”

“Don’t say it,” you griped, pulling the envelope out of his grasp again.

“I was going to say intense.”

You nodded as you gnawed on your bottom lip before grabbing the champagne Jake was still holding and setting it on the gift table behind you. “She’s all Tom. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s running the Pacific Fleet by the time she’s forty.” But you waved that away, too, and tugged at his arm, leading him toward the exorbitant spread of finger foods on another table a few paces away. You snagged him a flute of champagne as you handed him a plate and then Jake let you wrangle you both onto a pair of the few remaining empty seats near the kitchen bar.

“Not going to mingle?”

“God, no. I hate mingling. You are free to go off and schmooze, if you want. There are a few people here you may know—probably shook hands with them at your ceremony.” You waved your flute toward a group of middle aged men near the fireplace and, yes, Jake knew them. All of them were upper echelons of the Navy brass and had congratulated him on the promotion. “I won’t hold your seat though.”

Jake laughed and shook his head. “I think I’m good right where I am, Punch. But thank you.” He glanced over at the men to see them already looking in your direction. They each raised their highball glasses with practiced smiles which you and Jake reciprocated with a tip of your champagne flutes. “You sure you don’t want to talk to them?”

You shrugged as you turned back to your food, plucking a small cube of cheese from the assortment and eating it quickly. “If I wanted to talk to them, I could’ve done it at barbecues or one of Sarah’s soirées that she liked to host. I just…don’t care enough. I climbed up the ranks by accident mostly. I like where I am.”

Jake frowned at that. “What do you mean?” You were headstrong and tenacious. Not having drive or ambition just didn’t line up with what he knew about you, with how you presented yourself.

You popped a cherry tomato into your mouth and chewed and swallowed before answering, almost like you were stalling for time. “I’m not a lifer like you, Jake. I didn’t dream of joining the navy as a kid or anything like that. You probably had a vision board or something, right? Asked for model planes since you could talk. You look the type. Probably ate some of the pieces, too.”

But Jake didn’t take the bait and he’d never admit that he did swallow lego when he was seven. “Then why did you enlist? You could go anywhere.”

You were quiet again and that familiar twist in his chest returned as your lips pushed up in a small smile. Then your eyes searched his face, visibly debating something, and you must have found what you were looking for because you nodded, just once, unknowingly twisting the knife you didn’t know you held. “You caught me in a good mood. I’ll tell you. No one will believe you, but I’ll tell you.”

He resisted the urge to grab at your hand and just hold it as he said, “try me.”

“Sparknotes version?”

Jake wanted to know everything. Wanted to ask you to tell him every little detail so he could know you better than anyone else. But he could wait. Maybe. “Sure.”

“My little brother, Danny, got sick his first year of high school. Really sick. Expensive sick. I was in my last year of school and had the choice to either go to university or find a job that could help with the bills.” Your next breath had your shoulders sagging. “The Navy was the only recruitment office that wasn’t on lunch when I walked in. Four days after graduating high school, I was shipping off for training. Then I was volunteering for any deployment that my commanding officers even hinted at because I knew that deployment meant more pay. So, I was accidentally a decorated AD because I was desperate.”

Jake felt you jump when his hand landed on yours as it rested on the table beside him but you didn’t pull away so he selfishly curled his fingers over your wrist, content to feel the warmth you exuded. He remembered the photo on your desk and the soft look you’d been giving him—that was your baby brother. “Is he-”

“Oh, he’s fine now. Finishing up his doctorate at MIT.” Another smile pushed at your lips as you shook your head before your other hand settled over Jake’s. “Healthy as can be. Lily actually reminds me a lot of Danny. Both of them hated their English classes in high school. They’d prefer to have a root canal than write a book report. I probably did too much to actually have them learn anything about The Catcher in the Rye or Persuasion, but I just wanted to see them succeed.”

Jake’s heart leapt when he felt your thumb sweep over his knuckles as you kept looking out over the crowd. It was just a little touch. A little brush of your skin on his. And it was…special.

But as soon as it started, it stopped as you pulled your hands away from him and waved at someone in the crowd. “There’s the couple of the hour.”

Jake turned to see a younger blond guy with his arm wrapped around a smiling brunette. She’d reached up to tangle her fingers with his, showing off the massive rock on her finger. They must be Junior and Taylor—the pair certainly had that look about them that all newly engaged couples had. Well, almost all couples. Jake knew some weren’t so fortunate.

You hopped off the seat and dragged Junior and Taylor into quick hugs as Jake followed suit and stood, shaking both their hands as you introduced him. You oohed and ahhhed over the engagement ring and poked at Junior’s cheek when he blushed as Taylor recounted the story of the proposal. You handed over the card and Jake saw you curl your hands into fists behind your back as Junior opened it almost immediately.

Just as she finished reading, Taylor all but launched herself at you and Jake had to keep you upright by catching you at the hips when you started to teeter backward. And, only for a moment, Jake thought about doing this with you all the time. Thought about showing you off at parties, watching you smile, keeping you upright with a laugh on your tongue. The invisible knife twisted again as Junior caught his eye and arched a brow after glancing at his hands on your hips.

“Oh! I can’t believe it! This is so kind!” Taylor turned to Junior with a beaming smile, waving the business card like a flag, and explained that she actually followed the photographer on Instagram and loved her work, just as you’d said in the car.

Jake felt you relax in his grip at that, a relief to know your gift was well received. “I’ve made a list of all the weekends she has available for the next six weeks. She said you two would have first dibs—you just need to call her and tell her what date and time works for you.” You’d off-handedly mentioned that both Taylor and Junior were in the middle of their medical school residencies and were rarely free for more than a few hours at a time every other week.

You spoke a little longer and Jake earned a bright smile from Taylor when he said that she and Junior would probably be the photographer’s most liked post on her page—he also earned an elbow to the gut from you, too. Jake didn’t care, not when he heard you laugh.

“But we’ll let you get back to your other guests. Thanks for letting me hold you up for a little.”

Junior frowned and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You’re never holding us up.”

“You’re always welcome,” Taylor said with another brilliant smile.

You nodded with a matching smile and mentioned that Jake had brought a bottle of champagne and Junior was the one to smile this time. “That’s my favorite bottle, man, thanks!”

Then you spun in Jake’s hold and all but shoved him backward toward your abandoned seats and the smile you gave him had his entire chest aching. “They’re so happy. Don’t they look happy?”

And he had to smile, too. “They do, Punch.”

But your eyes tracked to something over his shoulder and Jake turned to see you looking at that same group of men from earlier and you rolled your spine, straightening your posture. “I’m going to introduce you.”

“I thought you said you didn’t talk to them.”

“I don’t. Not as Naval officers, anyway. They think I’m like a very distantly related and adopted niece or something. They know me but don’t…know me, you know?”

Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes but simply said, “no.”

“Doesn’t matter. C’mon, let me get you promoted again.” You were then a flurry of demure smiles and careful introductions that seemed to instantly endear you to the group of brass and Jake was readily folded into their conversations as you slipped away from his side with a wink and a mouthed “you owe me!” after being talked over twice—maybe they really didn’t have any clue that you were in the Navy as well. It almost made Jake want to excuse himself, too. But he knew you’d probably chew him out for that. Rooster’s ‘talk’ from the other night on the Hard Deck came ringing through his mind: “There’s another reason we call her punch. She can roll with the punches. But that doesn’t mean she should have to. If she comes to me on Monday and says anything about you ruining her night, I’ll shoot you out of the sky.”

You knew that officer promotions were always a game of politics and who you know so getting Jake on a friendly basis with men like this was invaluable. So, yes, Jake did owe you. But he was having a hard time fully investing in the ham-handed conversations and when he was halfheartedly listening to Rear Admiral Cunningham speak about his latest secretary snafu, Jake caught you moving through the crowd with Lily hot on your heels and a laugh on your tongue. He could hear it over the din of the party and he felt himself smiling despite knowing he shouldn’t in the present company. You and Lily were soon joined by Sarah and three of you danced around a little, sipping on canned sparkling waters. When Taylor and Junior joined in the impromptu dance party, he could hear your excited laughter.

Jake remembered that you sat with the Kazansky family during the funeral, holding Lily’s hand as she sobbed. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now he could see it. You were one of them, unofficially of course. An older sister to the kids. Another daughter to Sarah and Admiral Kazansky, if he was willing to bet.

You were special.

**

The party had continued on. The dancing you and Lily had started had somehow sprouted to most of Junior and Taylor’s friends and the living room had transformed into a dance floor. You noticed Jake stepped out onto the back porch with the group of brass and tried to tell yourself that the pride you felt was purely coincidental. That you would have introduced any of the Daggers to them and wished them the best. Really. The warmth you felt wasn’t anything other than friendly. Really. But by 10, the party was wrapping up—Lily needed to drive back to Pasadena and Junior was murmuring with a few of his friends about an “after party”—and you’d started helping Sarah clean up as people filtered out. The kids had each given you a squeeze before leaving and promised to text you when they got home.

As you tugged a trash bag around the living room and tossed the paper plates into it, you glanced up to see Jake taking a handful of half-filled champagne flutes into the kitchen. The few sentences you’d exchanged with Missus Seresin during the promotion ceremony did give you a bit of insight into Jake’s upbringing—you could see a little Jake helping in the kitchen, being told how to properly wash pans and how to keep an eye on a boiling pot under the watchful eye of his mother or older sisters.

But you weren’t supposed be thinking about that and shook it away with a grimace as you yawned. You grabbed another stack of discarded plates and pushed them into the bag with a little more force than what was necessary as Jake circled back into the living room.

Sarah stepped to your side with a tired smile of her own. “You can stay here, sweetheart. We still have your room upstairs.” She then turned to Jake with a smile. “The bed is big enough.”

You choked on your next breath and Jake patted your back as he fought a smile. “We-” you wheezed the word.

“We’re not together, but you’re kind to offer.”

Pink flooded Sarah’s cheeks and she pressed a hand over her mouth for a moment. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought…” She waved it away. “Either way, both of you are welcome to stay the night.”

“I think we’re actually going to head out as soon as everything’s cleaned up. Thank you again for inviting me and letting me bring a friend along.”

Sarah hummed as she tried to nudge the couch back into its usual position and watched as Jake quickly took over the task without issue before once again starting to grab the remaining flutes left by the window sill and take them to the kitchen—you heard him carefully putting them into the dishwasher. “Yes, a friend.”

Embarrassment burned and clawed at your throat and you turned away to see if there were any other plates for you to throw away. “Barely a friend.”

“Sure, sweetheart. I definitely can see where I got confused with the way you were smiling at him and the way he looks at you like you hung the stars. My mistake.”

“He doesn’t.” The words were barely more than squeaks. “And…and I don’t smile at him like anything.”

Sarah hummed, again. “Whatever you say.”

You tried not to think about Sarah’s words as you settled back into your car a few minutes later. Jake let out a sigh as he buckled in and you tried to ignore how his cologne once again filled the small space. And it was so strange that your body seemed to seize and relax at the same time because of it. Like you were fighting two separate and equal instincts.

“Thanks for coming tonight. I hope you had fun,” you said as you pulled away from the curb, waving at Sarah through the windshield.

“They certainly know how to throw a party.”

“This was tame. One time Junior threw a rager when his parents were out of town and his entire fraternity swarmed the house.” You smiled at the memory, remembering ordering a group of frat boys around at the crack of dawn to clean the house before his parents got home. Junior baked you a cake in thanks after learning you’d been the one to stall Tom and Sarah for a few extra hours by suggesting they stop for brunch on their way back. Lily had done the same after you’d helped her get all the bubbles out of the hot tub after she and her friends had filled it with something you’d rather not mention.

Jake was quiet for a moment as you turned down the street, heading toward the highway. “How do you know them? I mean, you seem pretty close.”

Your tongue pressed against your cheek as you thought about how to phrase your answer. Had to be careful. Had to make sure you didn’t reveal something you shouldn’t. “Bradley introduced us.” There, that was vague enough. “Admiral Kazansky was good to me. His family looked after me during a really weird time in my life and I tried to repay that kindness, in any way I could. After all, I did have some experience with what they needed.” You sighed and scraped the edge of your thumbnail against your lip. You’d been the one to deal with the home care nurses when Sarah needed a break. You knew a few ways to help Tom be comfortable through his treatments and he seemed to be grateful that he didn’t need to ask for them, keeping a little bit of his pride. You’d been so hopeful when he’d gone into remission but tried to keep it together when it had come back. You were happy to play the part of stalwart supporter when the prognosis came back grim. “They’re good people.”

Your stomach churned when you thought of why you’d met the Kazansky family but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. But you changed the subject, asking about the surely-dull conversations Jake had with the brass as you merged onto the highway.

“…if I ever get that boring, you have my permission to smack me,” he finished with a grimace.

“You’d probably like that too much. You’re just going to have to be boring and live with the consequences.” Proving your point, Jake smiled when you smacked his hand away from your radio again. There was no way you were changing the station when David Bowie was singing. Absolutely not. And then when “Rhiannon” came on next, you made sure to crank the volume as Jake pretended to not know the words.

You were having a great time. Really. And it was a little terrifying how easily he made you laugh when he finally gave in and started to croon (a little off key) alongside your pitchy warbling. But it petered out as Jake looked back with a squint but turned forward with a frown. When he turned to look back again you turned down the radio with a frown of your own and glanced in your rear view mirror. “What is it?”

“The car behind you keeps speeding up and slowing down.”

While keeping an eye on the traffic in front of you, you looked at the car Jake pointed out and your stomach sunk to your feet as you watched it drive under the next streetlight.

It was a black ‘67 Dodge Charger with a distinctive sword charm hanging from the rear view mirror.

You knew that car. You knew that charm.

And despite the shadows of the car hiding the driver’s face, you knew who was behind the wheel.

And just as that realization dawned on you, the charger’s brights flashed and you winced as the lights flooded your car.

“What is this guy’s problem?” Jake grumbled, turning back around to stare.

“I…” What could you possibly say? You couldn’t tell Jake. Wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever. But it didn’t matter because the next time you glanced in the rear view you realized the charger was about to ram into the back of your car. You stomped on the gas and the engine roared as you tried to avoid the collision.

But he kept coming.

Your heart clawed its way up behind your teeth as you merged into the next lane over, earning an angry honk from a Jeep for not using your turn signal, and the charger sped past and you almost thought you were in the clear but then he was merging too, slamming on his brakes and you had to swerve back into the other lane to avoid crashing into his trunk.

“Jesus!” Jake yelled.

“I-I’m sorry!” The words were torn from your throat but you doubted Jake heard them over the barrages of angry honks and the thundering of your car’s engine, nearly drowned out by the growl of the charger’s overpowered mechanics.

The charger moved, keeping pace with your car and you were only given a warning in the form of Jake yelling before you realized that the car was coming into your lane. You yanked the wheel, nearly hitting the dividing wall as you avoided it and pressed the accelerator to the floor. You weaved around two cars, earning more honks as you used the shoulder to gain distance, and then noticed the next exit was only half a mile away. You needed to get off the highway.

“Fuck!”

The charger followed you onto the shoulder and you knew you had to move. Now or never. You moved across the highway and nearly clipped the barrier as you shot onto the off-ramp, a cacophony of squealing brakes and horns providing a terrible soundtrack to your horrendous driving. But it worked. You saw the charger try to get to the exit, too, and miss. He had to drive on. Away from you.

You hardly remember driving the rest of the way back to the Hard Deck in silence, your heart still stuck behind your teeth. Every few seconds, you’d check your rear view mirror but you didn’t see that car again. When you parked in the Hard Deck’s lot, you finally peeled your hands away from the steering wheel and your fingers shook and ached.

“What the fuck was that?” Jake asked after a stretch of silence.

You tried to suck in a breath and only managed to make your lungs burn. You needed to calm down. Needed it. Needed… “I-I have to call Bradley,” you muttered, shaking hand scrambling through the contents of your purse to grab at your phone. “I have to-”

“What’s Bradshaw going to do? He’s out in the desert with Mav. I’m right here, Punch. Tell me.”

But you only shook your head and had your phone dialing Bradley’s number before it even reached your ear. But it rang. And rang. And rang.

“This is Bradshaw. Can’t come to the phone right now-”

Fuck. You killed the call with an unsteady breath and none too gently shoved your phone back into your purse before pressing your nails into your thighs, needing to feel something other than your racing heart. Tiny pinpricks of pain zipped up your leg and you let your head fall back against the headrest before uncurling your hands. This was better. This was okay. You’d made it. For now, you were okay. “I…need a drink.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

You turned to the side and felt just a smidge of mortification wash over you as you realized Jake was still sitting there, waiting for you. Fuck. “I’ll get you one, too.” Then you were up and out of your car, hitting the lock button four times just to make sure, and all but stomping into the Hard Deck with Jake on your heels.

**

It was either a blessing or a curse that none of the other Daggers were at the bar tonight as Jake followed you up to the mostly un-busy bar and rattled off your usual order. “And please get Jake whatever he wants,” you said, handing over your card to Jimmy.

Jake slipped into the barstool at your side and studied you for a moment. It was almost like you hadn’t nearly crashed your car three times or run off the road by a charger with a vendetta. If he didn’t know you better—and Jake tried to ignore that it was becoming clearer by the day that maybe he didn’t know you as well as he thought—he might think you were just out for a nightcap. But the vacancy of your expression was too…careful. Too practiced. It looked like there was a concentrated effort to keep your brow from pinching.

“You wanna tell me what that was back there?” He asked, almost tentative. He just…wanted to make sure you were okay, but he wanted answers, too. The way you were reacting wasn’t normal. The complete shut down of your previous panic wasn’t right.

Your next breath was slow, measured. “I must’ve cut him off or something. Road rage is a hell of a thing.”

Jake bit back the disbelieving comment and thanked Jimmy as he set the drinks down with a small smile and handed back your card. Fine. “So you needed to call Rooster after all that but can’t tell me what you really think happened?” Jake had seen all the close contact between you and Rooster. He’d seen how you’d whisper in the other man’s ear. He had seen how Rooster was always ready for you with a hug or an arm around your shoulder. And no, Jake didn’t hate that. Didn’t hate that you seemed to trust Rooster more than him and he had been the one to be in the car with you tonight. “Is he your boyfriend or something? Fuck buddy?”

Your unamused stare over the edge of your glass had Jake sitting a little straighter. “He’s not my type,” you said with a shrug before downing the rest of the small drink.

“You sure? ‘Cause it sure as hell seems like-”

Your glass hitting the bar top stifled any other words Jake might have said. “Look, I’ve been trying for eighteen months to get Bradley to admit he’s in love with redacted.” You flagged down Jimmy and asked for a refill with an easy smile that evaporated the second you looked back at Jake. Your arched eyebrow had his stomach clenching for several different reasons he didn’t have the time to address. “Any other slightly invasive questions you want to ask? Want to know my social security number? What color of underwear I’m wearing?”

Jake could feel the tips of his ears burning. You were relentless. But good. At least he was getting some sort of reaction out of you. “Those are two wildly different questions, you know.”

“I do know. So, hurry up and ask. I’m giving you until my drink arrives.”

He had a million more questions but he really did need a straight answer. He could be relentless, too. But first: “You literally said redacted.”

“So smart, Ken! Look at you go!”

“Who is redacted?”

The next smile you gave him was all teeth and your tone was as condescending as Cyclone on a bad day, “well, now, Ken, when someone says ‘redacted,’ it means-”

Jake’s hand pressed over your mouth, and he sighed as he felt you frown beneath his palm. Fine. He could switch tactics. He could get one real answer out of you tonight. “You can’t blame me for thinking that something else is going on. Do you love him?”

You peeled his hand away from your face as your new drink was quickly placed in front of you and you drained it as if you needed it to deal with him. “You know, there is a Greek word,Philia. It’s one of the different types of love from Greek Philosophy-”

“Punch-”

“And it’s a brotherly love. But since I know you won’t take that as an answer, no. I don’t love him in the way you’re insinuating. And he doesn’t love me that way, either.” The look in your eyes reminded Jake of someone having just come down after g-loc as your fingernail tapped against the glass’ base. Click. Click. Click. “Bradley has seen me at my lowest. Bob, too. Sometimes I think they only keep me around so I don't do something stupid.” Your mouth rolled to the side as the tapping stopped and you pushed the glass away before reaching for your purse.

“That’s not true-”

“Look, tonight has been weird. Okay? Can’t deny that. I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.” You shook your head as you pulled out a few bills for a tip and the second drink and set them under your empty glass. And you wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t even turn toward him again. Jake’s hands curled into fists at his sides to fight the urge to reach out to you, to try to let you know that he would do it all again. All of it. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I owe you.” And then you turned and left.

**

Driving home shouldn’t be a problem, right? You just needed to put the key in the ignition, shift into drive, and go home. But you just couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull your eyes away from the dark dashboard.

He had found you while you were on the road. He had tried to crash your car. He had tried to run you off the road. He had tried to kill you.

While Jake was in the car with you.

Tears burned your eyes and you limply let them fall, your hands not moving from your lap. A familiar, dull ringing settled over your ears and you slumped further into your seat, only to feel your entire body go rigid as you heard someone stepping up to your car, sand sliding beneath their shoes on the pavement.

You swung around as the door opened, ready to fight, ready to scream, but felt yourself deflate as Jake leaned down, shoving his way into the car to haul you closer, warm, muscular arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. And that just about broke you. The first sob was ripped out of your throat and the next followed in rapid succession as you grasped loosely at the front of his shirt. The scent of his expensive cologne was almost calming. Almost comforting.

His hands moved up and down, up and down, along your spine and you vaguely heard him whispering something to you. Something like, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” But it was barely more than white noise to your ears as your body shook. But soon you were pulling back, eyes bleary and itchy. God. You were a mess. There was an apology on the tip of your tongue that died as soon as Jake’s large hand gently, carefully cupped your cheek and his calloused thumb swiped against the delicate half moon of skin beneath your eye.

“Let me drive you home.”

Your chin wobbled with new tears and a fresh wave of self-loathing washed over you but you still nodded. It was a moment of weakness. A moment you were sure you’d regret but you just needed help. Just a little. Just for now. But still, you let Jake help you over the center console and into the passenger seat. Before you had the chance to move, Jake reached over and buckled you in and moved to do the same for himself before he frowned, looking at something on the hood of your car. He stepped out and grabbed something from underneath your windshield wiper.

You frowned as he sat back down. “What is it?”

But Jake didn’t answer, mouth set in a thin line and eyes trained on the thing in his grasp.

Leaning over, your heart almost stopped. It was a Polaroid of you and Jake at the engagement party. It was obviously shot through the window, a glare taking up half the photo. But still, anyone who looked at the picture would see you and Jake, his hands on your hips and smiles on your faces.

Did you have fun at the party? He doesn’t look like your type

“Jake, I…” Your throat was scratchy. Arid.

“What does this mean, Punch?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your theories. Also, as an aside, I do not keep a tag list. I’m sorry! 

[itsalwayssunnyboyhalo]

Hey gang, I love how shorthand for "Hey guys Dennis is like..more fucked up than he usually is in his and probably the bad guy of the story" for AO3 it's always sunny fics is "Dennis Reynolds is a bastard man". Thank you Charlie Kelly

[0moony]

charlie work (charlie kelly x gn reader oneshot) (smut!)

��~*~💫~*~✨~*~💫~*~🌙

tags: established relationship, gender neutral reader, sub charlie, sweet and fluffy vibes, praise!! so much praise, so much begging, edging, handjob & oral sex m receiving, creampie

it’s been a bit but i’m back with another little story. i love this concept so much i hope i did it justice!! i just wanna take care of him <333

set after the charlie work episode!! (s10e4)

you’re hanging out in your apartment when you hear your door open and close a little more harshly than usual. you can hear charlie muttering under his breath before you come out to see him. he doesn’t even acknowledge you at first, lost in his own thoughts as he sets his backpack down with a thud.

“are you okay?” you ask instantly. finally he looks up, his eyes weary before he sighs and brings up a hand to rub his forehead.

“had the health inspection at paddy’s today..” he explains, his tone hollow. he doesn’t really move from where he stands in the entryway, so you approach. you wrap your arms around him loosely and he inches closer to you.

“did it go wrong?” you ask, trying to use his energy to fill in the blanks.

he scoffs slightly and shakes his head. “no, well.. it went great, actually.” his lips curl inwards, scowling, and his hands ball into fists. “all thanks to me.. not that anyone cares..” he huffs, half to himself again. but he didn’t really seem angry, exactly. more defeated.

you frown and find yourself gripping him a little tighter, instinctively trying to offer your support. “what happened?”

he then goes into the details of his day. his thorough plan to pass the inspection nearly fell into shambles the second he got into paddy’s because of some elaborate airline miles scheme the gang was running, involving loads of live chickens in the bar, a truckload of steaks, and an industrial-sized sealer. somehow, charlie finagled it all successfully to work in his favor so that they could both pass the inspection and complete the scheme at the same time. but in the end, nobody noticed or appreciated his incredible efforts.

when he finishes his long account, you hug him. “i’m so sorry, love. you worked so hard.”

“yeah.. just wish that’d be appreciated once in a while.” he mumbles.

you nod and lift your head to look at him, one of your hands intertwining with his. “i appreciate you. tons.” you know it doesn’t completely make up for his bad day, or really the constant unrecognition he gets at paddy’s, always being stuck with the hardest jobs. but you want him to hear it.

he meets your gaze and squeezes your hand. “i know. thank you.” he gives a little smile, the most he can manage right now.

“how can i help you feel better?”

“(y/n), you don’t have to-“ he starts, but before he can finish you put your fingers lightly to his lips to stop him. his eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t protest further. he was probably going to say something sweet like ‘just being with you is enough.’ and you love that, but that doesn’t satisfy you. you want to take care of him.

“are you hungry?” you ask. he just nods.

and so you go start something in the kitchen, a hot meal that you make sure to cook your love into.

charlie follows closely behind, and you keep chatting while he watches you cook. once you’re done and you’re plating your creation, he comes up to hug you from behind. he nuzzles into your hair and closes his eyes, breathing in your scent blending with the delicious aroma of freshly made food. his heart and his stomach sing in unison.

“thank you,” he hums. “you’re so good to me.”

you both decide to get in bed, putting on a tv show to laugh along to while you eat. by the last bite you can already see his spirits lifting a little. after setting aside the plates you snuggle up to him and your hands slide up to his shoulders, rubbing lightly. he melts a little at the contact and an idea pops into your head.

“how about.. a massage?” you offer. he looks at you and his lips curl downwards in thought for a moment. he’s not always eager to accept such kind favors from you, but seeing the affection in your eyes and thinking about how lovely your touch would feel, he gives in.

“umm.. yeah, sure. that sounds nice.”

“mhm. c’mon, lay down.” you grin and wait for him to roll over on his stomach and spread out into a comfortable position, and then you prop yourself up on your knees beside him.

you start massaging him, gently but firmly working every part of your hands into his muscles in a fluid rhythm. the second you touch him he responds instantly, sinking further into the bed and letting out a deep rumble of contentment. taking your time with every square inch of his body you come in contact with, you form a path from his neck to his lower back, loosening up any knot you find and rubbing out every last bit of tension. many minutes dedicated to him go by, and along the way at some point you’ve hiked his shirt up to get better access and you’ve shifted to straddling his hips.

while your knuckles and thumbs knead at either side of his spine, you lean in to whisper to him. “feeling good?” you ask, and the warmth of your breath near his ear makes him shiver slightly.

“really good, (y/n). you’re like an angel..” he breathes out, pure bliss lacing his words.

satisfied with your work you start to back off, but your hands linger on his skin. you’re full of contentment and love, happy to be able to pamper him like this. but another part of you, a steadily growing part of you, is also getting turned on.

charlie is practically putty in your hands. knowing that it’s because of you, that you’re able to take the weight off of him and relieve his stress, it does something to you. you want to do more. you want to make him feel even better.

you let your nails lightly graze his sides, feeling goosebumps form in their wake. your voice lowers to a soft, sultry purr. “you wanna do something fun now?”

you don’t know the way his stomach flips at the suddenly suggestive way you speak, something deep inside of him immediately standing to attention. “..fun?” he questions, and now there’s a hint of excitement in his voice. he shifts to meet your gaze.

you nod, smiling down at him. there’s a sparkle in your eyes that instantly makes him weak. he turns over onto his back.

but instead of explaining yourself right away, you pull him into a deep kiss. you cup his face in your hands as your mouths move together in a heated embrace in which you take the lead, kissing him in a way that has his breath hitching against your lips. it’s slow and sensual, but filled with just the right amount of hunger to make your intentions clear.

“i have an idea.” you murmur. you press your hips against his just a little and he groans, his hands flying up to grab you and press you down a little more. when you break the kiss his face is flushed and his pupils are dilated.

“what is it?” he’s eager now and it shows, his big eyes looking up at you so tenderly as if he was willing to give up the world in that moment just for some more of your wonderful attention.

you roll your hips against his once more and he lets out a little whimper, gripping you tighter. finally, wearing a small smirk, you drop the suspense. “i want to find out how long you can last.”

charlie looks almost bewildered at this, but there’s a notable spark in his eyes that shows he isn’t uninterested. he just wasn’t expecting such a suggestion. “y-you want..?”

“i want,” you repeat your words slowly, calmly. “to see how long you can last.”

just the thought of him at your mercy, moaning, shaking, begging for relief while you push his limits makes it very hard to patiently wait for his response. “do you want to try it?”

“i, um..” he clears his throat, his mouth suddenly dry as he finds himself at a loss for words. you’re stirring up his brain and getting him more turned on than he thought possible, putting him on the spot. he’s flustered. his cock is already rock hard in his jeans, just the weight of you on top of him nearly enough to do him in.

you have to help him out somehow. one of your hands threads into the curls at the back of his head as you lean in to place kisses along his jawline and below his ear. “it’ll feel really good..” you coax sweetly, smiling against his skin. “i promise. i just wanna take care of you, love.”

he lets his head tilt almost immediately to give you better access, a needy little sound coming from behind his lips that’s like music to your ears. his hips arch into yours and his fingers dig into your sides, desperate for some kind of friction. “yeah, i wanna try it.” he finally confirms, breathless.

you chuckle softly, in love with how responsive he is. but you haven’t even begun yet.

“first things first,” you pull away slowly, meeting his eyes. you reach for his arms and guide them away from you, laying them back on the bed. “hands off.”

he immediately pouts, something innate within him craving the feel of your body underneath his palms. but he nods, willing himself to follow your lead.

“good. stay like that, okay? no touching for a little while.”

“okay,” charlie agrees, and the momentary flicker of disappointment in his eyes is overtaken by excitement when you start to help him out of his clothes. tossing his shirt somewhere on the floor, you move to unbutton his jeans next. you push them down along with his boxers, and he sucks in a breath at the feeling of the cool air hitting his most sensitive area.

his cock is thick and flushed with need, veins lining the shaft. a bit of precum dribbles from the tip and onto his soft stomach. he looks so divine and you start to think that this is going to be a test of your patience as much as it is his.

“ready?” you hum.

“yeah, please.” he replies eagerly, squirming a little beneath you. you can’t resist pressing him a little more.

“please what, my love?” you simper, willing him to ask properly for what he wants.

charlie’s cheeks turn red and his brows pinch together as he formulates a response. “please touch me, (y/n.) i need you, please..” he begs. his voice is gruff and his hands fist the sheets beneath him, driven wild with the anticipation.

“that’s perfect, baby. i will since you asked so nicely.” you spit crudely in your hand and gently wrap your fist around him, slowly stroking from base to tip. your saliva mixes with his precum with each measured pass, making him nice and slick.

“oh, fuck..” immediately, his head falls back and his legs tense beneath you. after the lead up to this moment he’s sensitive, hot in your hand, and swelling even more in response to your touch.

you increase your pace slightly, biting your lip as you focus on moving your wrist in a graceful motion and making your grip just right. you watch charlie’s stomach flex and his face contort as he tries to maintain control, his breath coming out in shallow pants. you’re about to ask how it feels but as if he’s reading your mind, he indulges you on his own.

“feels so good, (y/n.) mmf.. please, a little more?” he pleads, his hips arching desperately.

“alright,” you give in just a little, giving him longer, quicker strokes. “you’re not allowed to finish yet, though. okay?”

he moans, gritting his teeth and nodding.

“you promise to be good?”

“yes..” he nods again, his voice cracking. but you want more.

your hand stills and his half-lidded eyes fly open, giving you an almost hurt look. his hair is a mess, his lips are pouty, and his gaze is desperate. he twitches in your grasp, every ounce of his body begging for attention.

“tell me.”

his mouth opens instantly to speak, quickly stammering out a response through the haze of lust clouding his mind. “i’ll be good, i promise i’ll be good for you. i can hold off. please baby, please keep going.”

you give a pleased, cat-like grin and resume, and once you do he melts back into the bed and rumbles with a very grateful sigh of pleasure.

you feel hot just watching him like this, but you have to bury that feeling deep so that you can stay focused on him. but god, he looks mouthwatering. he sounds like an angel. you can’t help but grind yourself against his thigh every now and then in search of your own relief.

your grip tightens and you increase your pace. you listen as his breathing gets ragged, his sounds of pleasure gracing your ears more and more often along with the wet sounds of your fist pumping him. leaning in, you pepper kisses and nips around his hips.

“you’re so sexy like this. being so lovely for me.” you hum, your eyes never leaving him. he gives a shaky moan, swooning beautifully in response to your praise. you can tell he’s getting close, can tell that you should start to back off. but you want him to make the call. he said he’s going to be good, after all. “tell me when to stop, okay?”

“okay, okay, okay..” charlie breathes out, his eyebrows furrowing and his teeth digging into his lower lip with the struggle of holding back. the sight of you on top of him, so dedicated to pleasing him, is enough to send him flying into orbit. he watches the motion of your hand steadily going up and down his cock until he can’t take it anymore.

“baby, ‘m close,” he whines, his hips stuttering as the need to cum gets more frantic. “fuck, i’m close, i’m close-“

you stop and his head falls back into the pillows again, groaning heavily. he pulses in your grasp as he comes down from the high.

“good, very good.” you purr, kissing around his lower belly. your hand never leaves him.

“baby, please..” he pouts, his head rolling to peek down at you. his fingers are surely leaving dents in the sheets from how hard he’s gripping them.

“i know, i’ve got you. you’re doing so well, my love.” you continue to praise and soothe him, but you can’t help the little smirk that curls at your lips from how needy he is.

his cheeks turn a little rosy and he twitches in your hand. “i am?” he asks breathlessly.

“of course, baby. i’m impressed.” your lips trail closer and closer to his aching shaft as you speak, slowly grazing his happy trail, his pelvis, and the space where his hip meets his thigh with featherlight kisses.

“i’ll make you feel so good, i promise. just keep being patient.” his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his gaze zeroed in on your lips brushing against his skin. “can you do that?” you ask.

charlie swallows hard. “y-yes, yes i can do that.”

as a reward your tongue meets his flesh, licking a heated stripe up his cock. he shudders. you start to move your hand again and he nearly cries.

“ohmygod...” his jaw drops in disbelief as you place big, wet, open-mouthed kisses at the base, letting your tongue curl around his girth while you stroke him the same time. you kiss upwards but back off before you reach the tip. just feeling your breath fan over the head of his cock makes him lose his mind.

“(y/n),” he writhes underneath you, so close again. “baby, please. please can i cum?”

you slow your pace and he whines. “uh-uh, charlie. not quite yet.”

his face scrunches up from the delicious torture, his head rolling side to side. your lips brush against his tip and he gasps.

“stay strong for me.” you murmur before you open your mouth to take him in. charlie practically jolts from the surprise.

“ah! mmf, ah fuck, wait-“ he can hardly form a sentence, his eyes rolling back as your lovely mouth envelops him. “so warm, mm.. i can’t- i can’t last like that. (y/n), please..” he’s whimpering constantly, the ardent struggle of denying his orgasm written all over him.

you ignore his pleas for now, greedily savoring his taste and weight and warmth on your tongue. taking as much as you can, you suckle and bob your head over and over again while he moans gratefully above you.

just a minute of this and he’s done for. “i can’t take it, ‘m gonna cum. you’re so good, it’s too good..“ but just as soon as he gets the words out you’re off of him entirely.

he’s nearly shaking at this point, his hands flying up to tug at his own hair for dear life as his cock slaps back against his stomach, whining brokenly. a complete mess. “(y/n), i feel crazy,” charlie rasps. “i’m so close. i need you so bad..”

“i know, i know..” he’s so distressed and you almost feel bad, but it’s just too delicious seeing him like this. addicted to your touch, as if you’re some kind of life line. you know it’ll all be worth it in the end.

you climb up his body, leaning in to kiss his cheeks, his nose, then finally his lips. charlie returns the kiss eagerly, grateful for the chance to be closer to you.

you pull back and he watches as you slip off your own clothes piece by piece. straddling him, you center yourself over his hips and his eyes go wide. his hands cling harshly to the bedspread again and you can tell he’s fighting off the urge to grab you.

“(y/n), i’m not gonna last a second if you..” he trails off, his voice barely above a whisper.

you smile. “sure you will. you can last a little longer, i know you can. you’re a good boy, yeah?”

he visibly perks up. you take him in your hand and line him up with your entrance and he hisses at the contact. “y-yes, oh yes.” he crumbles. “but fuck, i don’t know if i can. it’s too much..”

“you can.” you affirm softly, placing a hand on his chest as you start to lower yourself onto him. his eyes roll all the way back into his head and a string of curses falls from his lips.

“so hot, so tight, wet, perfect,” he gushes, floating high in the clouds as you sink down his cock. far, far away from the cares of the world.

you let out a moan of your own as he bottoms out inside of you, savoring the delicious feeling. “that’s right. you’re so good, charlie. you deserve this.” you murmur sweetly, beginning to rock your hips slowly.

“i’m good, i’m a good boy..” he repeats in a daze, huffing with your every thrust. his eyes glaze over with pure bliss, his mind going completely blank except for you. he looks up at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “i’m a good boy?”

your heart melts a little from how soft he looks. you could praise him every second for the rest of your life and it still wouldn’t feel like enough to properly convey how precious he is to you. “yeah, baby. doing so well for me. my good boy. my favorite.” you assure him, your fingers lightly brushing his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek. “i love you so much.”

he leans into your touch. “i love you.” he hums back. “(y/n), i’m so close..”

“just a little longer,” you promise. he turns you on so much that you’re not far behind. after just another minute or two, you finally give in.

“my love, would you like to cum?”

excitement paints his features instantly and he looks at you with big puppy-dog eyes. “yes, (y/n). please, i need it so bad. please let me cum in you.”

his admission makes your stomach flip and your control falters, clenching around him. “you want to cum inside?”

“yes, please.” he begs desperately. “want to fill you up so bad, so bad..”

you stop fucking him. you reach for his hands and guide them to your sides, and then you lean forward and brace your hands on his shoulders.

“go ahead, baby. fuck me ‘til you cum. you earned it, did so perfect.” you whisper in his ear, encouraging him with a roll of your hips that steals the air from his lungs.

he doesn’t hesitate. his fingers dig into your flesh instantly, gripping you tight. he ruts his hips upwards just once and moans loudly. “fucking.. oh, it’s too good,” he huffs, quickly finding his rhythm. “you’re so good, (y/n). i‘m gonna fill you up, need to fill you up. stuff you full, every drop..”

he loses all control. he fucks into you and pulls you up and down by your hips like a ragdoll while his grunts and sweet words fill your ears amidst his climb to ecstasy. you’re right there with him, singing with pleasure. it's not much longer before you both start to break down.

“yes, yes, yes..” charlie pants, getting louder and louder as the pressure builds just right. “i‘m gonna cum. gonna cum so deep inside you, baby. fuck!” after being wound up for so, so long, the coil inside of him finally snaps and he cries out, his whole world rocked by the force of his orgasm. his head swims and he jackrabbits into you like his life depends on it until every last drop of cum is spent.

feeling his warm release flood your insides you follow his lead and also fall apart. both of you rock through the bliss until you’re completely wiped, collapsing into each other.

once every ounce of pleasure has been wrung out, he wraps his arms around you lazily to pull you close. he nuzzles into your hair, letting out a little dazed giggle. the rough day he had was long, long gone. practically wiped from his mind and replaced with pure satisfaction.

“that was the best,” he sighs, tracing soft circles on your back. “you’re too good t’me..”

you hum in response, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “you deserve it.” you lift yourself up a little to look at him and you smile. “feel better?”

he smiles too. “tons.”

🌙~*~💫~*~✨~*~💫~*~🌙

[fahye]

book recs: aug-sept '23

THE BAYOU by arden powell -- queer horror novella! this is set in 1930s louisiana and like all good horror it's about horrible unburied secrets haunting you. but also gators and summer flooding and guilt and, uh, letting a hot mysterious man/fae/?other? rail you in a church. superb. no notes.

TELL ME I'M WORTHLESS by alison rumfitt -- MORE QUEER HORROR! TRANS HORROR!! this is a haunted house book but the haunting is modern british fascism and the house is made of TERFs. the writing is fantastic. it's like being trapped in a small room with someone who is screaming loudly and endlessly, but like, in a good way.

THE SECRET COUNTRY by pamela dean -- this is an oldschool portal fantasy that somehow manages to combine excellent diana wynne jones vibes with my most common stress nightmare, ie. the one where you're in the Show but you've been so busy choreographing for the Show that you've forgotten to learn your own lines. baffling. very enjoyable.

KNOCKOUT by sarah maclean -- listen. listen. this series is about a historical vigilante girl gang, and this is the romance between a lady explosives expert and the exasperated policeman she wants very much to bang (heheh. bang.) very miss fisher vibes and also, somehow, very Fuck The Police (...heheh.) I adored it.

AN ISLAND PRINCESS STARTS A SCANDAL by adriana herrera -- a very horny and fun f/f histrom about a venezuelan artist in paris and the duchess she is, again, extremely determined to bang. I love this series of adriana's, with all its glorious historical detail about the various latinx delegations to the grand paris exhibition.

THE SPIDER AND HER DEMONS by sydney khoo -- YA fantasy about a chinese-malaysian australian girl who is also, inconveniently, a spider demon. this has an aro-ace heroine and heaps of very cool and creepy body horror and made me desperate to go back to sydney and eat banh mi in cabramatta. a+.

WHITE CAT, BLACK DOG by kelly link -- so you know how kelly link is an absolute genius master of the short story form? you know how the best fairytale retellings are both chattily straightforward and bonkers weird? YEAH. my god this collection is so good.

[weclassybouquetfun]

Netflix is so funny. The streamer goes radio silence on their projects for years ::cough:: THE OLD GUARD sequel ::cough::, then turn around and say, "By the way: this and that drops tomorrow."

Or tonight in the case of the new SING short. Did you know there was going to be a SING short? Neither did I. But today Netflix announced that tonight at midnight, the Halloween themed SING short will debut.

SING THRILLER.

What is is about? Well, just that. The gang decides to stage their version of Michael Jackson's music video "Thriiller"

Returning for the short is Matthew McConaughey as Buster Moon, Tori Kelly as Meena, Nick Kroll as Gunter, Scarlette Johannsson as Ash, Garth Jennings as Miss Crawly and Taron Egerton as Johnny.

To prove the global reach of "Thriller" Taika Watiti did a Haka inspired bent at the end of his film BOY.

Taron Egerton's not coming off of his IG hiatus for this, but perhaps he will in December when his Netflix thriller CARRY ON is finally released (on December 13th, to be exact.).

Maybe by December 13th they will release a better poster.

Entertainment Weekly exclusive pictures from the upcoming film (and other KINGSMAN alums goings-on).

Since Edward Holcroft has provided Taron's fans with a few glimpses of Taron since his self-imposed social media hiatus,

I'll give Ed equal time.

Holcroft's Lithuanian limited series A WOLF'S PALATE (which, to date is Lithuania's most expensive sereis) is one of the five series selected to screen at TV Beats Forum's inaugural screening day on November 20th.  The six-parter, A WOLF's PALATE is described as a psychological drama with supernatural elements.

While I await Ed's return to the screen, I just have to be satisfied with his selfies.

Our other KINGSMAN alum, Colin Firth has been absent from screens for a moment, but he will soon be back with the Sky/Peacock five-part limted series, LOCKERBIE: A SEARCH FOR TRUTH.

LOCKERBIE: A SEARCH FOR TRUTH tells the real-life story of Dr. Jim Swire whose daughter was among the 259 people who lost their lives in the 1988 bombing of a PamAm flight over Lockerbie, Scotland (with an additional eleven who died on the ground due to the disintergrating plane). It will drop January 2nd in the UK and the US.

Like Mark Strong, Firth will set foot in the Sherlock Holmes universe. He has been cast in Guy Ritchie's upcoming YOUNG SHERLOCK series for Amazon Prime Video starring Heros Fiennes-Tiffins as the young detective, Fiennes-Tiffin's uncle Joseph Fiennes as his father Silas,

Natascha McElhone as his mother Cordelia, Max Irons as Mycroft Holmes, Tsine Tseng (3 BODY PROBLEM) as Princess Gulun Shou'an, Dónal Finn (WHEEL OF TIME) as Moriarty and Firth as  Sir Bucephalus Hodge (no further character details have been announced).

And while not confirmed, there was a report that Colin Firth will be joining his ARTHUR NEWMAN and MARY POPPINS RETURNS costar Emily Blunt in Steven Spielberg's next film that is slated for a 2026 release.

[wildsaltair]

Due to the fact that I am a sunken wreckage of a human being for Russell Crowe, I'm working on collecting all the books related to his movies! Here's what l've discovered so far, but l'd love to know if y'all know of any others! :)

Books that were made into movies:

Master and Commander (Patrick O'Brian)

L.A. Confidential (James Ellroy)

American Gangster (Steve Zaillian)

A Beautiful Mind (Sylvia Nasar)

Les Misérables (Victor Hugo)

A Good Year (Peter Mayle)

The Silver Brumby (Elyne Mitchell)

Three-Ten to Yuma and Other Short Stories (Elmore Leonard)

Winter's Tale (Mark Helprin)

An Exorcist Tells His Story (Gabriele Amorth)

Body of Lies (David Ignatius)

Tenderness (Robert Cormier)

Hammers Over the Anvil (Alan Marshall)

Miss Shumway Waves a Wand (James Hadley Chase)

True History of the Kelly Gang (Justin Kurzel)

The Greatest Beer Run Ever (John "Chick" Donohue and J.T. Molloy)

The Book of Mirrors (E.O. Chirovici)

The Nazi and the Psychiatrist (Jack El-Hai)

Novelizations of movies:

Gladiator (Dewey Gram)

The Quick and the Dead (Jack Curtis)

Virtuosity (Terry Bisson)

Cinderella Man (Marc Cerasini)

The Next Three Days (Jennifer Krediet)

The Water Diviner (Andrew Anastasios and Meaghan Wilson-Anastasios)

The Nice Guys (Charles Ardai)

Proof of Life (David Robbins)

Noah (Mark Morris)

Man of Steel (Greg Cox)

Robin Hood (David B. Coe)

[whilereadingandwalking]

As always, my favorites of the year list was beset by last minute changes, doubts, and decisions, especially because this year I forced myself into a top 10!

Second photo is my honorable mentions...I literally already have regrets! Ask me anything about these top choices—I'm happy to share my reviews, thoughts, and more!

My Top Ten of 2023:

Tale of Genji by Lady Murasaki Shikibu tr. Seidensticker

Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

We Deserve Monuments by Jas Hammonds

The Vaster Wilds by Lauren Groff

What We Don't Talk About When We Talk About Fat by Aubrey Gordon

Ace by Angela Chen

Babel by R.F. Kuang

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

Our Share of Night by Mariana Enríquez tr. McDowell

Honorable mentions:

Now Go: On Grief and Studio Ghibli by Karl Thomas Smith

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami tr. Gabriel

The Water Outlaws by S.L. Huang

White Cat, Black Dog: Stories by Kelly Link

The Word for World is Forest by Ursula K. Le Guin

When the Hibiscus Falls by M. Evelina Galang

Let Us Descend by Jesmyn Ward

The Spare Man by Mary Robinette Kowal

Bleed: Destroying Myths and Misogyny in Endometriosis Care by Tracey Lindeman

Never a City So Real by Alex Kotlowitz

The Crown Ain't Worth Much by Hanif Abdurraqib

Sons of Darkness (Jan ’24) by Gourav Mohanty

The End of August by Yū Miri tr. Giles

(Unpictured): Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

(Unpictured): The Thick and the Lean by Chana Porter

[beardedmrbean]

New claims of plagiarism emerged Tuesday against Vice President Kamala Harris — with allegations including that she fabricated a story about sex trafficking and cribbed the work of other prosecutors, a judge and even Wikipedia to draft state reports on crime.

Harris, 60, seems to have invented details of a sex crime case out of whole cloth and taken sentences directly from published work by former California Attorney General Bill Lockyer as well as a New York jurist.

The new allegations were first reported by the Washington Free Beacon.

In a 2012 report on human trafficking Harris issued while California’s attorney general, she cited a fictional example of the type of call received by the National Human Trafficking Hotline as a bona fide case that had occurred.

The nonprofit in charge of the hotline, Polaris Project, had posted the exact same case details in June of that year as “representative of the types of calls” it received.

With different “names, locations, and other identifying information,” the example was “meant for informational purposes only,” according to an archived webpage reviewed by the Free Beacon.

But Harris copied the example verbatim into the state report, keeping the alias — “Kelly” — of the woman who was being trafficked but shifting the venue from Washington, D.C., to her native San Francisco.

The 2012 report also used a nearly identical paragraph to a Wikipedia entry on California’s Victim Compensation Board.

Another report put out in 2011, on organized crime the previous year, contained passages that were an exact match for portions of Lockyer’s report on the same subject six years earlier.

In 2014, Harris apparently stole from New York Court of Claims and Albany County Superior Court Judge Roger McDonough for a report on transnational gangs.

Recent polling has shown that Harris is seen as far more honest than her Republican opponent, former President Donald Trump, but the copycat claims — on top of earlier plagiarism allegations — is sure to test that public image.

The Trump campaign dubbed the veep a political “chameleon” in August, shortly after she clinched the Democratic nomination, for flip-flopping on her long-held liberal stances related to crime and immigration while embracing some of the 45th president’s proposed policies.

In April 2007, years before the purloined reports, Harris appeared before the House Judiciary Committee to lobby for passage of the John R. Justice Prosecutors and Defenders Incentive Act — a bill that would have helped local and state prosecutors and public defenders repay their law school and undergraduate loans while performing their public service.

More talented lawyers who opted for high pay at white-shoe firms would remain in the public sector if their debt was forgiven, the then-San Francisco DA argued, keeping more expertise in prosecutors and public defenders’ offices and helping to fill gaps in staffing.

Harris’ words in the April 24 hearing were nearly identical to testimony given two months prior by Republican Winnebago County, Ill., prosecutor Paul Logli, the Free Beacon also noted, citing the occurrence of the same statistics, punctuation and even typos in both written statements.

In total, the outlet said, 1,200 of the 1,500 words spoken by Harris (80%) were the same as those uttered by Logli.

Logli told The Post Tuesday that his testimony was prepared and written “largely” by staff from the National District Attorneys Association (NDAA), where he was then serving as president.

He said that Harris, who was a member of the association’s board of directors at the time, likely “also relied on NDAA staff support for her opening statement.”

“The similar content of our statements was an effort by NDAA to be entirely consistent in the positions we presented to both Houses of Congress on behalf of the 3,500 state and local prosecutors we represented on  a national level,” Logli said in an emailed statement. “Like me, I believe Ms. Harris simply relied on NDAA staff for much of the content of her opening statement before Congress.”

Manhattan Institute senior fellow Christopher Rufo revealed last week that portions of Harris’ 2009 pro-criminal justice reform book, “Smart on Crime,” had used identical wording to academic studies, press reports and even a Wikipedia entry — all of which predated the publication’s release.

Harris’ ghostwriter seemed unaware of the apparently plagiarized passages when contacted by The Post — but her publisher later signaled internally that the accusations were “a very sensitive topic” that was being handled by higher-ups.

“It was not the ghostwriter’s fault but, rather, this is a pattern,” Joshua Lisec, a New York Times bestselling ghostwriter, told The Post in a phone interview last week, saying he believed that Harris had probably “copied and pasted” other people’s work and sent it off to her ghostwriter without attribution.

“I don’t have inside access to their particular working relationship, but from the outside, my lens of the ghostwriting career and the profession, knowing how this goes, the ghostwriter probably had no idea that likely Kamala copied and pasted from somewhere on the internet or maybe her assistant did,” he said.

“She’s in trouble with everybody that she has effectively stolen [or] stolen from, or whoever did it, but she’s liable because her name is is on it,” Lisec said of Harris’ pilfering.

Harris’ ghostwriter, Joan O’C. Hamilton, he added, was “legitimate, experienced, successful as a ghostwriter and not the sort of person that you would expect engages with extremely low standards.”

South Dakota GOP Gov. Kristi Noem was widely viewed as a potential running mate pick for Trump before her own errors about a “meeting” with North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un crept past a ghostwriter into her political memoir “No Going Back,” which was published in May.

The Harris campaign and Hamilton did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

[everysongieverwrote]

I gotta admit, I love the last scene we get of Jo in the latest episode. When she silently watches as Kelly happily walks away from her (after she just asked her about Reena) and she just stands there alone, then looks from one side to the other and Dusty is avoiding her eyes, no one is paying her any attention, and the other girls and Warren are nowhere to be seen. Because this is it, this is the moment. She's alone now, she's no longer a leader, she no longer has a gang. The only family she had, the family she fought for, is gone. That's a "queen" who just realized she has been abandoned, betrayed, and dethroned. The whole episode does a great job of showing how the power dynamics shifted in the group. How Jo went from being the leader to being a follower. From being the one who uses people to becoming the one who gets used. The fact that she's the only one following the case and the one who asked Kelly about the dreams (after both Warren and Dusty confessed to having them) also speaks volumes and develops her character even more. Chloe Guidry and the UTB writers and directors have done an amazing job with this character and her particular story. Like, yes, of course she's not innocent but she's human and I think this is what made her realize that.

[monsterswithimagines]

Sailor Song (Nathan's pov) - part 7

Nathan Young x Female!Reader

Summary: After Nathan is buried alive, things aren't all rainbows and unicorns for him. One night, after a particularly bad nightmare in which he's back in his coffin all over again, he calls his ex–you. A/n: I swear to fuck, I really wanted the show to focus on the friendship between the gang, more than just 'I just want to be your friend' 'alright' and 'so we're not gonna shag then?'. I mean, Nathan, Alisha and Curtis don't really seem to be huge friends (though I wanna focus on that more, too, at some point) but damnit LET NATHAN HAVE FRIENDS. Anyway. If anyone's wondering why I'm putting so much focus on the Asbo 5 in a romance story, that's why. Kinda hilarious that this fic was originally gonna be 10 parts per pov. I don't think that's gonna work.

Masterlist

~

Nathan did not remember how he had ended up at your flat. Or anything after the others had left the pub–except maybe you standing at the mouth of an alley with your arms crossed.

He groaned, rubbing his head as he sat up. His head was pounding. Where had he even gotten the money for more drinks? Probably someone had bought them for him. He hoped he hadn’t done anything too stupid to get them. He was known for that.

You must have anticipated Nathan’s hangover. There was a strip of Anadin Extra on the coffee table, as well as a half-full glass of water. His jacket was folded next to it.

Nathan swallowed two of the pills at the same time, drank the water, then went to the kitchen to fill up the glass again. The clock on the microwave told him it was ten am. That bothered him, for some reason, but he couldn’t think why just now.

Then… shit, community service!

Nathan rushed into the living room and dug through the pockets of his jacket for his phone. For a moment he was worried he’d lost it, but then he found it in an inside pocket where he would never otherwise put it. It was at ten percent.

He had several missed calls from both Kelly and Barry, as well as a bunch of texts, all of which came down to: where are you?

He called Barry, because he seemed the least likely to yell at him.

“Nathan?” the little creep answered.

“Hi, yes, it’s me.”

“Where are you?”

Nathan glanced around the living room.

“...Somewhere.”

“We’ve been worried.”

“Why? I’m immortal,” Nathan said grandly.

“You could still be slowly bleeding out in a ditch.”

“Yes, well, I’m not. I’m on my way now. You can all stop getting your panties in a twist. Twat.”

Nathan hung up.

He patted the pockets of his jeans. He still had his wallet, and his cigarettes, thank God. No clue where his keys were, but those were just to the community centre, and he didn’t really give a shit if that place got broken into.

Someone cleared their throat.

Nathan whirled around.

You were standing in the doorway to what he guessed was your bedroom. Your hair was a mess and you wore a white bathrobe. You had your arms crossed as you leaned in the doorway.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Got my community service,” Nathan said weakly.

He would have been out of here just as fast if he didn’t have an excuse, but he felt it was probably better not to say that.

“Right,” you said.

“Thank you, for, uh…” Nathan gestured towards the couch.

You shrugged.

You were giving him a very, very strange look.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Nathan asked, feeling his face as he spoke.

“No. Just… you said some stuff last night… You don’t remember?”

“Not really.” Not at all. Not even a little.

“Oh.”

Nathan did not like that look on your face.

He booked it.

-

“So then ya just left?” Kelly asked as they walked around the estate, haphazardly picking up litter.

“Pretty much,” Nathan said, making a face. “It was really very awkward.”

“Aren’cha at least a little bit curious what all you said?”

 “No.”

Kelly rolled her eyes.

“With how you been thinkin’, you probably declared your undying love, or somefin.”

“I don’t love her,” Nathan insisted.

Barry had been keeping suspiciously quiet the whole time, but now he made a sort of laughing noise–a small huff of air out of his nose while he smiled.

Who knew where Curtis and Alisha were.

“You got something to say, creep?” Nathan snapped. He realised right away that he sounded a bit meaner than he had been to Barry in a while, and poked him in the shoulder to make up for it. “Stop gangin’ up on me.”

“It’s just funny,” Barry said after a moment. “The thought of you in love.”

“That’s because it doesn’t happen,” Nathan insisted.

Now it was Kelly’s turn to snort. “Yeah, right.”

“Love’s far too complicated, man,” Nathan said, stabbing roughly at some used tissues. “I prefer the leavin’ part of love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“If you say so.”

“Well, I do.”

Nathan…

Nathan stopped when he heard the voice. They were in a neighbourhood, surrounded by ugly concrete buildings. So basically, they could have been anywhere in Wertham. That being said, being surrounded by buildings meant the voice echoed.

It sounded somehow less human than it had at the park.

“Mate,” Kelly said (or maybe she said ‘Nate’, who knew with her accent?), turning back to look at Nathan. “What?”

“Do you guys hear that?”

Naaaathaaaan…

“I don’t hear anything,” Barry said, after listening for a moment.

“I swear, there’s somebody calling my name,” Nathan said, looking around.

“Is this like that bollocks with that baby?” Kelly asked. “Because if you steal another one, I’m not savin’ ya.”

“Shush.”

But the voice was gone. All Nathan heard now was the mild breeze echoing between houses.

I must be going insane.

“Yeah, you must be,” Kelly agreed.

“Maybe someone with powers is messing with you,” Barry offered, frowning. “Making you hear something that isn’t there.”

“That does seem like the preferable option, doesn’t it?” Nathan asked, catching up with his friends. “Instead of just ‘Nathan is hearing shit that isn’t there’?”

“Maybe you were hearing a ghost.”

“Nah, man,” Nathan said. “Ghosts don’t sound all creepy an’ shit. They just sort of show up.” He paused. “Besides, I haven’t seen any dead people since my brother and that chick he was shaggin’. I bet it was because of them drugs. Usually I’m immortal, but when I took E, I saw ghosts.”

“Maybe,” Barry said thoughtfully.

“We’re just gonna brush off you hearin’ voices, then?” Kelly asked, hip-checking Nathan as they began walking again.

“Yes, I think that’s the best course of action,” Nathan said. “Or we can find a nice, cosy little asylum for me. I prefer something near a beach.”

“Don’t be a wanker,” Kelly told him, slapping the back of his head.

“Hey!”

Barry laughed.