#Verses: Evidence Board

[reiderwriter]

🕯 Ring of Fire 🕯

Pairing: sub!Spencer Reid x dom!Female reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge (sort of lol)

Requested: could you do glasses sub!spencer realizing he has a wax play kink? yk maybe reader accidentally spills her wax melt off her desk at work and it goes on to spencer making him realize he’s into it so the next day he picks up sex wax and he asks her to do it when they get home?

Warnings: BDSM themes, standard case details mentioned, temperature play, wax play, dry humping, thigh riding, hand job, penetrative sex (p in v), overstimulation, implied cream pie, choking, mentions of rope play, sub!Spencer and dom!reader, dumbification/bimbofication.

A/N: This one was just for fun. I literally already crossed off the free space. This is just for shits and giggles. Well. Enjoy?

Masterlist || Bingo Board

“So you're telling me our vic was turned into a candle?” Morgan mused from the corner of the room, frowning down at the new body in front of him. Or at least where the body had been a half hour ago, the only sign remaining being the errant drops of wax strewn about the bed and the caution tape closing your entire crew into the room. 

“Not exactly,” Emily said from the other corner, pulling up a pair of fluffy handcuffs with a pen from her jacket and dropping it into the evidence bag JJ held out to her. 

“So a kinky candle, got it,” you smiled, looking over at the other goodies Emily had uncovered. 

“Morgan, those candles, can you check what kind of wax they are?” Spencer said from the corner, looking up with that look on his face. Half curious, half flipping through the deck of index cards he had stored in the filing cabinet of his brain, looking for the right piece of information. He pushed his glasses up his nose and stared intently over at Morgan, waiting for his answer.

“It says they're organic beeswax candles.”

“There's also some soy candles stored here in the closer, Spencer,” JJ pointed out, waiting, as you all were, for his brain to click the right information into place. 

“The victim seems obviously well versed in BDSM. He seems to be a seasoned submissive, but…” 

“But what?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the excitement the words submissive coming from Spencer created in you. 

“The melting point of beeswax is 143-149° Fahrenheit. It's unsafe for temperature play, and it would have caused intense pain if not second or third-degree burns on his body. That's why he has the soy candles. Their melting point is as low as 114°. Those are the candles he was expecting.”

The shared looks around the room said that you were all contemplating the implications of his rambling. 

“So that candle isn't part of his collection, but something the unsub bought himself,” Hotch concluded for the team. “Good work, Spencer.”

The room cleared quickly after that, with each team member assigned different roles and tasks to keep the momentum going until it was just you and Spencer left, searching for anything else that could be helpful. He had a keen eye, and you… well, you were great at directing him. 

“That was clever,” you said, pulling on your rubber gloves and getting to work rooting through the kink closet. “With the wax.”

“Thanks,” he said, and something aching and feminine crushed through you as you noted the small stammer in his voice, the hesitant blush on his cheeks.

“You have such a lot of knowledge up there,” you said, tapping your forehead, so he could get the full picture, making sure you had his attention before you dropped to your knees and started your searching. 

“Hmm?” He said, and you knew he wasn't listening anymore. His eyes had glazed over behind those glasses, and even the glare in them couldn't hide that his gaze was entirely on you.

Spencer had always been sharp as a whistle, thinking too much for his own good. Until you had crawled into his bed that first time and convinced him that giving up thinking altogether really was for the best. 

Since then, it really hadn't been all that hard to convince him to turn it off and release that stress. 

“You know a lot about wax, is all,” you said, shrugging him off with a bored look and not bothering to look back at him. You knew that you'd just see a man desperate for your attention staring back at you anyway. 

“It seems like you had experience.”

“Ah, um, no, ahem,” he squeaked, clearing his throat quickly. “No…experience, I just... read about it once?” He was so nervous, he seemed suddenly so unsure of himself.

You finally smiled up at him from your place on the floor, watching him move around trinkets on the victims desk before looking back at you. 

“Good,” you said and stood up, confident that his eyes and thoughts wouldn't leave you now. 

“But if you ever find yourself curious, you know where I’ll be.”

You weren't expecting him to accept your invitation quickly. You'd admitted to yourself that anything remotely case related quite so soon was probably in poor taste. One case opened and closed and then another, and you'd fucked him in countless motel beds and against various walls before he mentioned it again. 

But there came a knock at your door one night, and you knew. 

“Spencer,” you said, smiling as innocently as you could, a little breathy from the quick sprint over to the front door of your apartment. 

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you said, eyes tracing down his body to the traces of fatigue scattered across his body. The shirt sleeves pushed haphazardly up to his elbows, the tie undone, the shirt crumpled. You grinned harder as you saw the bag in his hand. 

“I… I thought we could..”

You softly grabbed his tie and walked back into your apartment, pulling him along with you as he still struggled to find the right words. 

“You thought we could try something new?” You asked. He nodded.

“Is the something new in that bag?” You asked. He nodded again. 

“Is that something new going to make your big cock nice and hard for me?” You asked. He blushed a fierce red and nodded again, as you stepped forward and started stroking him over his pants. 

“You know I want to hear your voice, Spencer. You need to be a good boy or we can't play with your nice new toy.”

“Y-Yes.” He said, eyes already squeezing shut in pleasure as you pressed against him, free hand wrestling his bag from his grip. 

“On the bed. Shirt off, pants off. Leave your underwear on for now, and don't you dare start without me,” you ordered and he quickly ran to obey your orders. After all, he already knew what happened when he didn't listen nicely. 

"Oh, and Spencer?" You said as he paused in the doorway. "Keep the glasses on."

You grabbed the candle out of the bag, finding the box of matches you kept in your kitchen drawers, and stepped out of your own clothes before joining him, the red set you'd donned that day being more than sufficient for teasing him. 

“Look at you, so pathetic for me,” you giggled, as you climbed over him, straddling his thighs as you lit the candle, making sure to avoid his crotch, to avoid giving him any accidental pleasure. 

“Y/N,” he whimpered, hands strewn up above his head, tangling in the sheets. He was so very used to not being able to touch that you didn't even need to tie him up these days. 

As you ground down into his thighs, effectively riding him and pleasuring yourself, he moaned and shook beneath you, the pressure of restraining himself almost unbearable. Almost.

You knew his limits, and he knew his safe word. 

“I think it's ready, my sweet. Shall we sate your curiosity?”

“Yes, yes, please, Y/N,” he whined, as your hand finally found its way to his cock again. 

You held the candle just above his stomach and let a single drop flow out, landing on his abdomen. He twitched and arched his back up, thrusting his cock further into your hand. 

You did it again, and his moans were electric as you rubbed your pussy against him harder, needier than before. 

You covered his stomach and chest in the hot wax as he fucked your hand, your fingers pushing under his underwear to grip his cock, letting him hiss at the skin to skin contact with each spasm.

“Good boy,” you said, but your heart wasn't in it. You were too taken with him, his cute sharp face, his rounded glasses, his lips spread in a delicious moan. You were too desperate for him to truly tease him at that point. You needed your pleasure as well. 

Already soaked from his sounds and his strong thigh, you pushed your red panties to the side and dropped yourself down onto his cock. The only thing stabilizing you at that moment was the hand that had slipped to his neck, your other too busy making sure the candle was upright as you pushed up and down on him, desperate to not ruin your sheets with wax. 

They were already sure to be soaked through after this, but you'd washed cum out of them before. You weren't sure you'd be able to wash hard wax out. 

You took your pleasure in him as he continued to thrust up into you, like an animal in heat that is simply desperate for any release it can get. 

With the wax still hot, you pushed upright and let it drip on him again. 

“Fuck, Y/N…”

“How does it feel?” 

“H-hot. And good. Really good.” He winced, hands covering his face as he held back his orgasm, knowing you gave the orders.

You yourself felt hot. You felt good. And, most importantly, you felt curious. 

“S-Spencer,” you said, leaning down so your lips were practically kissing just below his ear. 

“I want you to burn me.” 

His eyes shot open, his hands racing to cup your ass cheeks as he stilled himself, forcing air in and out of his lungs. 

You put the candle on the nightstand and rolled onto your back, bringing him with you until your legs were wrapped around his waist and his head was pressed between your breasts, aa if startled by the movement and seeking comfort.  

His cock twitched inside you again and you were sure you were close. You just needed to feel him again. 

“Show me, Spencer. Show me what it was that made you so desperate to cum for me,” you whispered, pushing your hips up to meet his, urging him to move. 

Steadily, his hand reached out for the candle and he held it in his hands, moving back to a kneeling position as he got ready to use it. 

You sat yourself up on your elbows and watched as he pushed into you, one hand on your hip, and finally, agonizingly slowly, sent a single drip towards the tops of your breasts. 

“FUCK,” you screamed, grabbing his hand on your hip as you threw your head back onto the pillow. 

It was hot. It was so hot you thought for sure it'd burn right through you, but it felt good. 

You looked to the wax on your breast as he let another drip fall out and decorate the other. 

Your hips twitched, you pushed upwards and you came on his cock, whimpering and moaning just like he had done earlier.

“Good job… Good boy,” you panted as he let another drip go, never content to leave you with just a single orgasm if he himself hadn't cum yet. 

He thrust harder and harder as he put the candle down, pushing his nose into the crook of your neck and nuzzling in there. His glasses were an uncomfortable weight at your shoulder blade, but you welcomed the pain.

“Thank you,” he repeated, again and again, until you were certain it was the only thing he could remember, his hands tracing the bumps of wax over your body. 

You did the same, stroking his stomach as you grabbed his ass, pulling him closer to you. 

He came with a grunt, and you pushed him onto your back and rode out his orgasm as you chased your second, letting it crash through you moments later. 

Collapsing onto his chest, you let his hands wrap around you, pulling you in, ever as you were aware of the uncomfortable notches of hard wax decorating both of you. 

“Soy wax, right?” You asked, catching your breath. He nodded. 

“It washes off, right?” You asked. He nodded, blinking his eyes open again and staring at you quickly. 

He sealed your mouth against his ans held you tenderly there for a second before pulling you up into a sitting position, cock still warmed in your cunt. 

“We should go and find that out,” he said, shyly nodding towards your bathroom as you smiled and grinned straight back at him. 

[valentine-cafe]

oh, to be a cute, little journalist wanting to expose the crimes of herrera husbands (verse 209) to the public. . .

. . .only to become their newest obsession <33

˖⁺. “ new scoop ! ” : 

﹙ yandere mad doctor & scientist x gn journalist reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 209 jìngyí x gn reader x rishen !! 🍒: ﹙ mad doctor ˖ snake monster ˖ yandere character ˖ mad scientist ˖ moth-spider-mantis hybrid ˖ yandere character ﹚

they never expected a journalist to come as close as you did. that definitely garners quite the morbid interest. after all - how could they not obsess over someone so obsessed with them?

﹙ cws ﹚: dark content ˖ yandere behaviour ˖ stalking ˖ item stealing ˖ manipulation | wc : 0.5k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: i saw this request and immediately jumped to write it last night ybcdc

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

oh they have dealt with the media. ten times and over. the suspicious interviews. the baiting headlines. they know the trifles of fame — especially on their level. but you — oh, you were different. you were magnificent.

while few were foolish enough to blame them for the classics: useless scandals, corruption, big pharma. . . you went another route. they were almost offended to not have picked up on your little investigation long before.

of course they inserted themselves into this investigation. intentionally selecting you to dish out your questions during press conferences. meeting with you after interviews to discuss your stellar skills. showing interest. building a relationship.

oh and you simply took what you could get your hands on. perhaps befriending them would be an opportunity to worm your way in and get the good scoop? it's a sacrifice you are willing to make. and they seem the least but aware.

you let them right into your life. follow up interviews. private ones. coffee dates — wait, was that last one apart of the plan? where did that necklace come from? right. a gift from jìngyí. and that expensive perfume? ah, that's right. rishen's spoils for your birthday.

you started having dinner with them too. but you had to focus. had to ensure that you garner whatever info you can. even if it was the slightest. you'd stage before your wall of a pin chart at home. information, photo evidence. completely unaware that they took have a little board of you at home. filled with your pictures. your articles. your handwriting. strands of your hair. clothing items. the trusty pen that went "missing" last week. evidence too. evidence of their obsession with you.

what a fun game between work hours. to watch you get so close to a lead, if only the ends to be snipped off entirely. it frustrated you. but that frustration could wait, you have a night out with - with them - no! what are you doing? why are you indulging them?

but you'll continue to do so. after all, it's for duty - right? you'd never expect the hooks of their manipulation to settle into your head. whisper so sweetly to your ears that maybe you were wrong. maybe they are simply kind men of science. perhaps the voices of those enigma are false.

what does it matter anyway! you've been invited to their lavish home at last. you can't believe you thought the worst of these two. they are simply an indulgent couple. who do their best to help society. living here with their four dogs and one cat. loving one another. loving you.

loving you indeed. you see it. in the dinner that you all share. the laughs and affection. the sweetness of their lips. the slew of polaroids strung upon walls. the letters, articles pinned upon boards. a room full of you. and all that you do. oh, you'll certainly learn about the extends of this love. when the door of the room you'd stumbled into ( and now stood like a statue in ) shuts tight. locked behind you.

well, they did say curiousity killed the cat.

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[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (IX)

Chapter 9 : 'I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues'

Hi! Here is another chapter! Saoirse is back, and our babies are making some evil plans…

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 1798

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Lilies

I have been thinking about living like the lilies that blow in the fields.

They rise and fall in the edge of the wind, and have no shelter from the tongues of the cattle,

and have no closets or cupboards, and have no legs. Still I would like to be as wonderful

as the old idea. But if I were a lily I think I would wait all day for the green face

of the hummingbird to touch me. What I mean is, could I forget myself

even in those feathery fields? When Van Gogh preached to the poor of coarse he wanted to save someone--

most of all himself. He wasn't a lily, and wandering through the bright fields only gave him more ideas

it would take his life to solve. I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river--

where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues-- where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss, just rises and floats away.

Mary Oliver

So, this was Pr. Hozier- Byrne…

H-B, or Hozier like everyone on campus seemed keen to call him. Saoirse understood the hype around the man though.

His voice was soft and lulling, his explanations clear, his love for his work evident. He seemed nice, answered all the questions, had something a little shy about him that seemed to quieten when he was teaching. He exuded confidence then, on the contrary, and despite the softness in his tone, it was impossible not to listen to him babbling away about Yeats. The fact that he was handsome was also a strong argument in his favour, Saoirse couldn’t deny it. Ridiculously tall, curls falling over his shoulders, trimmed beard and glasses over green eyes… She sighed as she stared at him, sporting a grey tweed suit, turning to write something over on the board. And that deep voice… damn…

She shook herself, focused on the lecture again, took note of the date her teacher was writing on the white board. The first class was an introduction to Yeats’ life and work, the study of his texts would start next week. For now, Saoirse was carefully writing down dates and historical events and the name of the woman he would spend most of his life pinning over. And she wondered if Hozier was pinning over a woman too, if he was married, if he longed for love, if that was why he seemed to love poetry so much, because he saw his own longing in other people’s words…

She shook herself again, wrote down something about Lady Gregory and the Abbey Theatre. She was projecting her own feelings over that tall stranger, she reckoned. A dangerous activity, if there ever had been one.

Apparently, more students had chosen the class about science-fiction, but Saoirse had definitely no regrets. If the topic seemed more complicated, her teacher was determined to pass on his love for poetry. She was grateful to Gabi for convincing her to choose this class, was already happy to have chosen his lesson about modernism for the second half of the year.

Indeed, she could see that Gabi had done well in recruiting for this class. Most of the students Saoirse had seen with Gabi during orientation week were now listening to H-B explaining the use of theatre to create a common Irish identity that worked hand in hand with the growing anger that would lead to revolution. And indeed, Sean and Donald were there too. If Donald had settled a couple of rows behind her, Sean was sitting next to her, actually. He had recognised her as soon as he had entered the room, had headed straight towards her and asked if he could sit next to her. And Saoirse was happy to have someone she knew in this class too, even if they had spoken but a few hours during orientation week. She hoped they could become friends, she felt a little lonely in this new adult world.

 The lecture went on and was over too soon, a feeling Saoirse had not been expecting for any of her lectures. As she packed up her things, she noticed that Gabi was at the door, eyeing the students inside, and she gave Saoirse a wave when their gazes met. Sean and Saoirse hurried out of the room.

“Hey! How are my wee students doing?” Gabi asked with a grin.

“Doing okay, so far!” Saoirse answered with a smile. “Didn’t even get lost this morning!”

“What an achievement!” Gabi laughed good-heartedly. “Saw that you were having a class with H-B this morning, my next lecture starts in fifteen minutes, just down the hall. Thought I’d come see you all, check on you.”

“We’re fine, thanks,” Sean nodded with a smile.

Donald joined them as well, and they chatted happily for a couple of minutes.

“There’s a party planned at the end of the week, to celebrate the beginning of the year. You should come!”

“Huh… sure! Sounds good.”

If Saoirse was feeling a little shy, Donald was already asking questions about the drinks and the music.

Gabi was about to answer him when she was distracted by someone walking behind Saoirse and Sean, and she immediately grinned.

“Good morning, professor!”

The younger students turned around and politely smiled at their teacher, while he beamed at Gabi.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t our favourite troublemaker…” he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. “How are you doing, Gabi? How was your summer?”

“It was good! Busy, lots of things to plan to make sure I can turn all our new recruits into proper menaces!”

Andrew laughed, shaking his head playfully.

“Oh, I bet you have tons of ideas for that… but don’t scare our students away too soon, alright?”

He quickly checked his watch.

“Gotta run, but it was nice seeing you. Will I see you on Thursday then?”

“You know me… how could I say no to a class about protest poetry?”

Andrew’s smile brightened even more.

“Grand. I’m glad to have you as a student again this year.”

He excused himself then, bidding all four students a nice day, and they stared as he walked away, his long legs devouring the distance between the classroom and the exit of the building in mere seconds.

“He’s so nice!” Saoirse sighed. “Thanks for recommending this class to us.”

“He is. And Christ… he’s a sight for sore eyes.”

They all laughed at that, and went on to chat for a while longer, until Gabi had to head to her own class.

Saoirse could feel it, it would be a good year.

Andrew hurried back to your office, knowing that you were waiting for him. And indeed, when he arrived, you had already taken your sandwich out of your bag and were focused on your computer screen.

You greeted him with a smile when he quickly stepped into the room.

“Sorry, ran into a student I know well. Okay… what are our options?”

Andrew took off his vest, took out of his bag his own sandwich and his water bottle, before pushing his chair next to yours so he could look at your screen as well.

Frank was asking for advices about flower arrangements, for the wedding but also for a party they wanted to organise a few weeks before the wedding, some kind of huge get-together with family and friends to celebrate their engagement. Sam and Frank seemed to treat the event as some kind of rehearsal for their big day, and wanted to decorate the place in a similar way they would use for the ceremony.

A perfect occasion to raise chaos and mayhem…

“Frank has already narrowed down our choices… meaning that he took out anything with carnations or calla lilies, he doesn’t like those. I’ve tried to probe to know Sam’s taste, but he seems clueless.”

“Are we surprised by that?” Andrew mumbled under his breath, something bitter in his tone. “Sam’s favourite flowers are white lilies, and she hates pink and yellow roses.”

“Okay, so… can we find any pink and yellow roses in those…”

Andrew chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“You’re kind of terrifying, Machiavelli…”

“One of my favourite books is about getting stuck in hell and watching people being tortured,” you reminded him, making Andrew laugh and glimpse over at the picture you had hung on the wall.

“Right… my bad. I shouldn’t underestimate your evil nature, clearly.”

“Unless you’re ready to face the consequences…” you added with false threat in your voice, while you were clearly struggling to hold back your laughter.

“Don’t turn me into anything… unnatural.”

You froze, turned to him.

“Was that a Lord of the Rings reference?” you asked with utter surprise evident on your features.

“Obviously,” Andrew smiled, something cheeky and cute at the same time, clearly pleased with himself.

“God… I love the Lord of the Rings!”

“Who doesn’t?!”

“Frank.”

Andrew huffed, but said nothing. He thought the words all the same… what a tasteless gobshite…

“Why am I not surprised?” was his answer instead, and you chuckled at his words.

“Yeah… he does have a few red flags,” you conceded.

“Hmm… but the fact that we’re plotting together against our exes is kind of a red flag, isn’t it? A scarlet one if I’ve ever seen one…”

“Is it worse than not liking the Lord of the Rings?”

Andrew couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his mouth.

“Nah, we’re good,” he joked, making you laugh.

And he liked the sound. Almost three weeks had passed since Sam and Frank had announced their engagement and Andrew and you were spending more and more time together. You had planned some things to get to talk to your exes, or just as you were doing today, to mess up with their wedding. Which meant seeing you outside the university, eating his lunch with you, talking over the phone sometimes…

And Andrew liked it. He liked that your dynamic was back on a friendly rhythm instead of something merely professional. You were nice, and hilarious, and so fucking smart. He hoped you would remain friends after all this. He hoped you would become good friends, with a bit of time.

“Oh, this one is so ugly…” you giggled at the picture on your screen, something pink and over the top, with a lot of roses…

“Oh, yeah… that’s the one. Send him this one.”

“Frank asked me for a favour by the way… he wanted me to go fishing for information about Sam’s tastes in flowers.”

“You mean… asking me about it?”

You nodded, and Andrew let out a wry laugh.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask you today as our classes would keep us busy. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to play the perfect boyfriend and come to the rescue, and offer to use her favourite flowers.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course!”

You both laughed, eating your sandwiches. And then the conversation drifted away from Sam and Frank, settled on your classes, on work, on the movie he had watched on Sunday, on the walk you had taken with Siobhán and how much you would miss her when she would be gone.

And Andrew still felt a hole in his chest, the weight of something hollow, of a piece missing, because of Samantha. But when he was with you, the grief didn’t seem so heavy, the pain so aching. The emptiness in his heart seemed a little less empty when you were around. God knew he missed Samantha, that he wanted her back. But at least, you made him feel human again. He reckoned you were the only one to make him properly laugh these days.

[scotianostra]

On Wednesday January 28th 1829 William Burke, of "Burke and Hare" fame was executed.

First and foremost, Burke and Hare were not bodysnatchers, graverobbers or "Resurrection men" as is often banded around. They may gotten the idea of selling bodies from the men who carried out such crimes, but they were too lazy to go around digging up cadavers, they instead decided to bump off people themselves, the sell them to the eminent Dr Knox lecturer on anatomy at the University Edinburgh.

The method became known as "Burking" after the subject of this post. There is an 19th century verse that sums them up.....

Up the close and doon the stair,

But and ben' wi' Burke and Hare.

Burke's the butcher, Hare's the thief,

Knox the boy that buys the beef.

The demand for dead bodies in Edinburgh was created by a new way of teaching anatomy, called the Paris Method, which demanded that every student be given a corpse of his own to dissect, rather than simply watching a single lecturer do it at the front of the room. This meant a great many more cadavers were needed, but the only legal source of them was bodies from the gallows. Even with a high amount of executions that supply could never hope to keep pace with the new demand, and many anatomists resorted to buying bodies from grave-robbers instead.

The first body they sold was that of an old pensioner who died of natural causes while owing rent at the Tanner’s Close boarding house Hare ran with his wife Mary. Hare recruited Burke – another tenant there – to help him recoup his losses for the rent by selling the old man’s body to Knox. That was in December 1827.

Realising they were on to a good thing, Burke & Hare then turned to murder. They would choose a vulnerable figure from the streets of Edinburgh – almost always a woman - invite her back to Tanner’s Close and then feed her whisky till she passed out. As soon as their victim was asleep, one or other of the men would block her nose and mouth to prevent her breathing while the other lay across her body to keep her still.

This is Burke’s own description of the process:

“When we kept the mouth and nose shut a very few minutes, they could make no resistance, but would convulse and make a rumbling noise in their belly for some time. After they had ceased crying and making resistance, we left them to die.”

They killed 15 people in this way and sold all the bodies to Knox, who turned a blind eye to the cadavers’ origins in order to safeguard his supply.

Burke & Hare were finally caught in November 1828, by which time they had become careless enough to let one of their victim’s bodies be discovered. Fearing they would not get a conviction otherwise, the authorities persuaded Hare to turn King’s evidence in return for immunity. This ensured that Burke alone hanged for their crimes. Many people in Edinburgh thought that Hare - and Knox - should have died beside him and riots occurred afterwards, one outside the home of Knox.

This sensational story made headlines throughout the world, making Burke & Hare two of the most famous killers this country has even seen. Some of us in Edinburgh know the spate of crimes as The West Port Murders, Tanners Close in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle to the west is long gone but the area of The West Port, meaning Westgate, still bares witness to the enterprising duo, a "strip bar" in what is nicknamed "The Pubic Triangle" is called The Burke and Hare, I think they might have approved!

Finally, the literature of the West Port murders inspired that grisliest of Robert Louis Stevenson's tales, The Body Snatcher.

The pic comes from a broadsheet, the newspaper of the day, if you have the time and stamina, here is full account of the trial......https://archive.org/.../burkehar.../burkehare00burk_djvu.txt

[witchofthesouls]

Someone please give D.C.!AU Soundwave a medal and a drink for dealing with the shenanigans. Also have to wrangle Tarn's general Tarn-ness.

First he had to deal with the donar clause was activated by Tarn and Tarn imprinted?! Wait he's seeker-kin and a has been a tank for ages." The telepath knows exactly why stascream was torn between lsughter and tears. Which means he has to be constantly be on guard that Tarn might try to trine with Lord Megatron.

Then he had to do with the twice accidentally very married couple being well married and also expecting more bitties. He knows in his spark his cassettes are to blame somehow regardless of the lack of evidence.

Then the chaos on board the nemasis caused by Tarn bringing back a pregnant conjux and a flock of bitties. Tarn being hyper protective made everything super hazardous just existing on the same ship. At least they gained two hyper compatatent medics. Even if Tarn's sexual tension was so high Soundwave had to take active measures to prevent three quarters of the ship from entering heats or ruts.

Then the Overlord Incident(s) culminating in premature newsparks, one very dead Overlord, an Soundwave discovering This nurse isn't some agent assassin, Camians, especially medical professionals, are just like that. Also that Camus has hazards that are insane and the planet is best avoided.

Speaking of which he had to browbeat Megatron into encouraging Tarn and the Nurse to call the Nurse's Mentor/Foster-sire so he could meet the bitties because Soundwave will be damned if he ends up gunning for the cause because of a misunderstanding. Also perhaps they can arange for him to teach medical techniques.

To top it all off inspite of the fact Tarn's dangerous broken coding and the couple are literally spark resonants powerful enough to smash through two layers of outlier grade baffels, Megatron wants the nurse to consider other potential sires or code doners since they are capable of kindling.

And all of this mess was basically caused because Tarn was a touch starved socially isolated virgin who wrote the damn doner clause with such specificity. Soundwave and Starscream have already pushed through amendments that allow the carrier to have their choice of potential doners amoung the unit responsible for the sire's demise.

The Donor Clause Au is such a mess. It has different versions at this point, depending on the take like 'What if Tarn had to be present at officer meetings," "What if Megatron was a High Priest of Megatronus Prime," and the current thought of "What if sparklings were ridiculously rare on Cybertron because Reasons."

In the verse where sparklings are super rare as in one newspark per full carriage (not the back-to-back-to-back clutches of three), Soundwave gets all the spiked tea he wants, his own spike milked by hand as he's one of the few mechs that 1) you actually like outside of the Peaceful Tyranny and 2) Tarn pre-approved in a very detail breakdown of very short over acceptable mechs in case your legal spouse isn't around, and he gets chirpy sparklings crawling into his lap.

Purring and happy with simple, one-tracked minds and emotions that don't give Soundwave migraines or induce distaste. He actually indulges the little ones as they paint his legs or tug on his plates or, in the case of the sparkling with a mess of a mouth full of sharp teeth, Soundwave utilizes his more heavily protected data-cables for the bitty to chew on.

Soundwave has never thought of parenthood as tapedecks can't carry sparklets, and finding a mech with a viable gestational chamber is akin to becoming a long-standing reigning Champion of Kaon, but...

Soundwave also nips those family yearnings because then he would need to deal with Tarn as a potential code-sharer along with your own idiosyncrasies as a Camien. Nor does he want to constantly deal with Ravage's and Ratbat's complaints of Tarn's super-charged, lust-addled repression. While the leader of the Justice Division may have the iron control to keep his highly charged field to his plating, any mech with a finely tuned sense of smell, like the majority of beastformers, would sneeze at Tarn's presence.

(If Tourniquet is around, the Hub would be fielding an immense influx of comms ranging from the Camien Healer's approval to take Decepticon personnel onto hazardous planetoids for a 'complete training experience,' Hook's bombardment of pulling the colonists into his division, and a flood of troops' terrified complaints/hopeful messages thanks as the Healer would literally hunt and drag any mech into his care, kicking and screaming with an unholy sense of cheer.)

The Cassettes, despite their denial, do get jealous the sheer amount of racket all six bitties make when the Justice Division troops back. No amount of patty cake, violent nursery rhymes, and edible paint will match the warmth and deep rumble of Tarn's frame or the Pet's yankable mane.

The bitties are defiantly chirping at their imprisoned state, being trapped by hard-light in mess hall.

As everyone goes through the usual song-and-dance because the mechs want to pick up a sparkling, but you're already at gate as a grim, no nonsense warden because the Justice Division are filthy from gore, dust, and dirt. You're on a third carriage and have no wants to deal with a sick clutch on top of it because the sparklings would try to lick it off a random, filthy armor piece.

It's usually easier to shoo Tesarus and Helex into Nickel's awaiting care, considering those two are the messiest and have a habit of inconsistent personal care. Kaon has his servos full tugging the Pet away to the communal showers. Vos enjoys being an ass because you tend to nick his cables with quick swipes of a scalpel as Tarn lingers and winds up both clutches over their papa and uncle.

Meanwhile, Soundwave is trying to make his escape because he knows Tarn is thinking about cuddles and you're projecting filthy X-rated scenes, but he's trapped by social convention and that sparkling still chewing on his data-cable.

Nurse blames the alcohol for the second clutch as well as disbelief since you shouldn't have sparked up. Not that fast.

The third clutch was just plain weakness because you could have put your pede down and stayed on the ship. But you didn't (and you're not thinking about the implications, no sir, not at all, you're most definitely not thinking about the taste of your legal Conjux's Energon and how his neck-cables felt beneath your denta-)

Tarn can be dense/oblivious as the Head of Idiot Sandwiches. Still doesn't know he had imprinted. He just knows he enjoys Nurse's company and the family life and feels more well-rested even with the chaos. (Aka his Seekerkin-coding is finally getting sociality it has been screaming for by latching onto a carrier-mate and resulting bitties). Tarn is patting himself on the back, being an excellent donor and upholding Decepticon creed, and thanks to Lord Megatron's clarification, he will do his Conjunxal duties!

(Cue everyone else staring at this walking disaster that's in deep denial he's been doing the enthusiastic husband role for a long while already, and Kaon is still awaiting for the orn that Tarn and Nurse will figure out their true feelings until then he has his evidence board, holos, and all the gifts under his floorboards that he's slowly giving to the intended couple.

The communication specialist was giddy, and Sixshot had done a sigh of relief when Tarn, miracles of miracles, had finally given into the impulse to bite a coaxing door-wing. The result had the poor guy hailing Nickel because your reaction was intense.)

High Command is in a deadlock on whether or not to update the Donor Clause, considering said ridiculousness is highly effective.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Arranged! Verse, when Bruce (or Alfred, either works) find out how abusive her parents are, or sum along those lines?

"You're lucky you're beautiful because if you weren't there's not much else you're good for."

"I know father, I'm sorr-"

"Don't interrupt me, goddamn it!"

The sound of a fist hitting wood makes Bruce tense where he's waiting- ostensibly to talk details. And he isn't sure what occasioned this little meeting with your father but it's disgusting.

The rest of the conversation is drowned out by a conveniently timed leaf blower. Leaving Bruce to cool his heels in the sitting room off of your father's study. Anyone looking would think you'd been doted on. Positively spoiled. Horses, tutors, expensive boarding schools... the works. Photos of you smiling for the camera. Your parents looking suitably smug... It didn't jive with what he just heard and it rankled.

It wasn't until you walked out the doors, back resolutely straight, startled for a second at seeing him there that he takes a moment to look at you.

It seems he'd only hit the desk. Or perhaps a shelf. Perhaps he'd learned to keep his hands to himself. Or your mother was the one who got physical- not as adept at intimidating with words so she resorted to other means.

Last night you'd been crying. Worried sick about today. You'd told Batman about being summoned. Unloaded months of hoarded anxieties. Things you were too afraid to even put in a diary for fear the little bit of freedom you did have would be stripped away if you complained.

"Alfred will see you home," he said simply. "I'll take your car back"

"I- I wanted to-"

"Alfred will see you home," he repeated, "Or anywhere else you would like to go."

"I-"

"Don't argue," your father snapped. "Do as your told."

And as you retrieve your keys from your purse and hand them over, careful not to touch him, Bruce tries not to notice how hard your hands are trembling. Whatever had been said to you had evidently warranted the worry from last night. But he'd have to wait to find out what was said. Tonight Bruce Wayne had to see and be seen. But tomorrow was another story.

[sophietv]

It's not about kaylor but I really want to know about the song all too well. Who is it about? I think Jake G was PR. And the lyrics doesn't fit the Taymily narrative either. This song and the relationship seems very important to her. It hurt her badly. I am asking you because you always make very informative and reliable post that makes sense and closest to the truth.

Also who is Dear John about? Is it really John Mayer? Her only straight relationship I believe in is Joe Jonas.

Hi!

Thank you sooo much for saying that! It means a lot. I really can't claim that my theories are always 1000% right, but I do make a lot of research before posting, and try to cross check everything.

2. I must admit that when you asked the question, I did not have real solid theories or evidence to give you. I was even bending toward telling you that the song might be about Lizz since the timestamp of the song on Spotiy is 5:27 = Lizz birthday.

3. Considering that Taylor wrote this during Speak Now Era and that Lizz was present during that Era, well it doesn't fit the narrative of the song being about a relationship that has ended some time ago. And also, it would have been really weird to write this song during rehearsal where Lizz was present, if it was about her...

But thanks to you! I did a lot of research to try and find evidences (I read all the timelines but I'm not that well verse in what came before Kaylor and Swiftgron).

I asked what my groupchat thought about this.

Re-read the Taymily Masterpost (X)

Read and watched Taymily interviews

And now! I can say with more confidence, that I'm pretty sure this song is about Emily Poe, her fiddle player that worked with her from 2006-2008.

Now. Here's the evidences:

First. As pointed out by my group chat, the song does not seem to fit Tayliz dynamic. It seems to be talking about a complicated relationship with someone older.

As by the lyrics "you said if we were closer in age, maybe it would have been fine"

So first thing I did is look back as to when it was written.

Here's a piece of interview I found:

Thanks to this post: (X)

We know that she wrote it during her reheasal in 2011.

Because here's when David Cook started working with her:

And here's the date of his first show in the Phillipines:

February 2011....

Then, I did a little digging on what was going on with Emily at the time:

And oh does it get interesting!!

Here's an Emily's interview I found (X)

And here's what she was doign in February 2011!!! (I'm excited of the evidence I've found, does it show lol) :

"Two thousand eleven was a big year for me. I became engaged in February, graduated law school in May, took the bar in July, and Eli and I were married in November.”

What did Taylor said?: "I was feeling terrible about what was going on in my personal life"

What if she just learned about Emily's engagement???

And to make it even more interesting. Here's a journal entry with the first lyrics of All Too Well:

Confirming that it was written in 2011.

This is inchteresting.

But it gets better!

Because, before last year, Emily's Pinterest was public. And on her wedding board, she did save a picture with a red scarf....

It's not Emily, it's just a picture that she had saved in her Pinterest. Thanks to Kate for giving me this!

But what if the red scarf was really just to tie the song to Jake???

Here's another interesting thing I've found in the Taymily timeline:

This letter is from the video she made to Emily when she left, with everyone having "I love you Emily" signs.

It says:

“Emily– I feel as if our relationship has been taken to the next level over the past few months and with much contemplation I decided I would bestow upon you one of my most prized possession: my flamingo bandana. This is a 3rd generation family heirloom and i suggest you frame it. I think it will look perfect in your apartment with the cat pillows. Enjoy”

Inchteresting....is the red scarf a bandana??

Also. We know that All Too Well was really significant for Taylor and that for a long time, she was not able to sing it without crying...

So it's about a relationship that had a big impact on her life.

Very recently. Like in June, Taylor performed the song Breathe as a surprise song and very clearly cried during that performance.

The next day, we learned that the day before the show, Emily did this post on Facebook:

Breathe was heavily rumored to be about Emily back when Fearless came out. But Colbie confirmed it with Fealess Taylor's Version in an interview when she said that it was about something that was going on with one of Taylor's band membre.

So yeah... this would make way more sense being about Emily and having Taylor be emotional singing it for a long time.

Than the song being about a relationship that lasted 3 months.

Of course I can't know for sure for all her relationships...

But most of them I believe was PR. Like the one she had with Jake.

Thanks for the question! It was really interesting doing all those research!

ADDITION!! : It just hit me but! The line "And you call me up again just to break me like a promise"

Fits perfectly with Emily calling her to tell her about the engagement! omg...

SECOND ADDITION: This morning when I woke up, I thought about two things that points to Emily!

1. Taylor turned 21 in 2010, 2 months before writing All Too Well.

"And you call me later and say sorry I didn't make it and I say I'm sorry too" from The Moment I Knew

to two months later:

"And you called me up again just to break me like a promise"

2. The night Taylor sang Breathe and looked devastated after Emily's Facebook post. She also sang All Too Well looking REALLY MAD.

People have all noted it.

Look: (X)

This solidifies even more that All Too Well is about Emily for me...

[cruise-in-your-glow-bus]

Intro Post

Hey everyone. I'm Cruise. I write fic. Mostly for Ghost (the band) but it ain't my first fandom rodeo. My blog and writing are intended for adults. Minors, I love you, and I lied about my age too.

My Writing (so far)

As the Bridegroom to His Chosen (WIP | 8/10 chapters)

He's ascended to the highest peak of his career, reigned over the stage and screen as Papa Emeritus IV. Now, settling into his role as Frater Imperator (and all the duties that go along with it) will take some adjustment. Papa V is here. The Ghost project is running smoothly, more or less. Seeking solace and guidance for his new path, Frater Imperator intends to muse in prayerful solitude about his next instruction to please The Old One. Luckily enough, The Old One offers many gifts to His beloved servants, and although it might not initially compare to wobbling thousands of asses across the globe, our newly-ordained Frater gets one very special ass to wobble, all for himself. (Or, alternatively: You meet a stranger in the woods when your car breaks down during a sudden storm. Your life changes forever.)

A post-RHRN Prime Mover AU

Ghost Kinktober 2024 Scripture Memory Verse Award Winner (WIP | 26/?? chapters)

A tasteful charcuterie board of sinful temptations, including (but not limited to):

I Will Spit You Out of My Mouth aka Seminary Student Copia’s Heathen Bisexual Awakening (Copia/OMC; Wax Play; Temperature Play)

Being with a man is, as they say, a whole new world of undiscovered desire, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for that. He wants it, sure, but the way he wakes up flustered and achingly hard with the thought of just a look from the librarian.

Dwell Richly Within You aka a mid-concert quickie (Copia/OFC; Creampie)

“Inside,” he growls, and you feel the tension when you wrap your hands around his neck, the palpable need. 

Hatred Stirs Up Strife... aka Terzomega CNC Hate Sex

“I know you love me… But… what if you didn’t?”

Bless the House of Your Servant aka the one with the Suburban Dilf / Realtor roleplay, for Satanic reasons (Copia/OFC)

He glances up to the Live, Laugh, Love sign over the headboard, then back to me. “I’m just not sure it suits all of my needs.” My face heats; he has to know what this is doing to me, talking about his needs.  

And They Shall Be One Flesh aka the Historical Arranged Marriage First Night one (Secondo/OFC) and its follow up chapter, A Helper Comparable

“Who has struck you?” His voice was calm. “You cower before me like a whipped dog…” “Please,” I started to say, desperation evident in my voice. I didn’t even care that he’d called me a dog. “Please, I’ll… I’ll do whatever—“ “Who. Hurt. You?” “Don’t make me say it.” I shook my head, fear tightening in my chest. “Please don’t send me back.”

Suffer A Witch aka the Witch Hunt one where a difficult woman finally gets a good reward from all of the Papas

She was on the wrong side of thirty, and her chin had a stubborn set to it that screamed of her defiance.  She was loud. She was untamed. She was difficult. She had no man to give her headship. In short: She was a witch.

The Word at the Beginning aka the one where Copia is a Camp Director at a Christian youth camp, and wears short-shorts. (Copia/OFC; loss of virginity; purity culture)

God, I pray, please. I don’t want to feel like this. It’s wrong to feel like this. If this is Your will, then give me the strength to pass this test, all for Your glory.  ...why would God make me this way, so full of desire and need, for someone I know I can’t have?  Or is this God at all? Is this Satan, tempting me to sin?  And if it is Satan, then why is God so silent? With a bitter laugh I feel grateful, at least, that God hasn’t decided to kill my whole family just to prove a point about my faithfulness, like He did to Job.  Kind of a dick move, really.  Instantly, I amend that thought with another prayer: Forgive me, I trust in you, I’m sorry…

And other one-shots. I will be finishing this when Bridegroom is complete.

I also take fic prompts/requests!

Okay bye!

[slickbackdani]

Since Macklemore is officially Back-lemore™️, I want to take the time, before Pride Month draws to a close, to deliver a heartfelt "go fuck yourself" to everyone who called him homophobic years ago.

For those not in the know: 11 years ago, Macklemore released "Same Love", a song in which he voiced his his support of LGBT equality and opposition to the oppression and discrimination we face. It was a very moving, powerful, heartfelt ballad that was one of the early markers that the social justice movement was here to stay…

Or at least, that's what I would say if that same social justice movement didn't gang up on Macklemore and declare him the enemy, smearing him as a homophobe because… he talks about gay rights issues despite not being gay himself.

I've heard all the arguments, and they're all bullshit.

"He talks at length about not being gay, so he's ashamed of associating with us!"

First of all, his explanation of his sexuality is limited to the first half of the first verse. The entire rest of the song is dedicated to the message "homophobia is wrong and LGBT people deserve equal rights." Second, his explanation of his sexuality isn't just some "no homo" clarification, but an illustration of how far-reaching homophobic stereotypes are in our society and how they can give children the wrong idea.

"He used the F-slur!"

Take a look at the context he was using it in, smart one.

Our culture founded from oppression, yet we don't have acceptance for 'em

Call each other f——ts behind the keys of a message board

A word rooted in hate, yet our genre still ignores it

He wasn't calling anyone the F-slur or saying anyone should be called that. He was using it as an example of homophobic language that should never be used because it is bigoted and cruel. DEPICTION IS NOT ENDORSEMENT!

"He's paternalistically trying to speak for a group he doesn't belong to!"

No. No. No the fuck he isn't. If you listen to the actual lyrics, he's just making the basic statement that LGBT people deserve equal rights and that bigotry against us is wrong. Aside from the tiny minority of LGBT conservatives who try to move up in the world by sucking up to their oppressors and throwing their fellow queers under the bus, I can't imagine how the LGBT community as a whole would have any reason to object to any of that! He's not speaking for us; he's standing with us. The only ones trying to "speak for us" is you, doing this whole "I'm offended for you" schtick and thinking you know better than we do who our enemies are.

"He's from the privileged majority, he's never been oppressed before, so he can't really know what it's like and therefore doesn't really care!"

I can't believe I have to say this, but being privileged doesn't automatically make someone an evil bigoted monster who is incapable of basic human empathy or compassion. Since most of the people who slimed Macklemore were themselves straight people claiming to support LGBT rights — looking at you, Cody Johnston — THEY SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT!

I'm genuinely baffled at the cognitive dissonance on display here. "Any straight person claiming to support LGBT Rights is a liar," says a group of straight people who claim to support LGBT rights. Are you honestly expecting me to believe that every single one of you are the exceptions to this rule you're claiming is otherwise immutable? From this, I'm forced to draw one of two conclusions:

You're Projecting. You're accusing Macklemore of not really caring about us and only using us for clout because you don't really care about us and are only using us for clout. I don't want to believe this is true, but look. If you're a straight person, and you see another straight person claiming to support LGBT rights, and your immediate reaction is to call them a liar, and you specifically use their straightness as evidence that they're lying… you're telling on yourself.

You're Fishing for Compliments. You think that, if you publicly flagellate yourself enough with this "all straight people are automatically evil" bullshit, the God Emperor of Gayness will descend from on high to officially declare you "one of the good ones" and ease your straight guilt.

I'll admit the second option isn't nearly as bad as the first, but it's still shitty because — to borrow some words from the Rap Critic — you're essentially clogging up an important conversation about our rights and freedoms just to beg us to confirm that you're not bad people. If you really cared about us, you wouldn't be making it about you in the first place!

And I'm sure there are some gays who were also ganging up on Macklemore and declaring him an oppressor and a bigot just like everyone else, and I have a message for them, too.

Darling. Bro. Baby gays. Listen.

The purpose of Pride isn't to tell all straight people everywhere to fuck off and die. It's to specifically fight back against the bigots and oppressors who have held positions of authority in our society since time immemorial, to undermine their power and create a free, equal society for everyone. I can't remember who first said this, but the struggle of social justice isn't "minorities vs non-minorities", but "minorities and non-minorities vs the system."

Here we had a straight person outspokenly demonstrating how emphatically he supports our fight for freedom and wholeheartedly agrees with us that oppressing us is wrong… so why the fuck were you treating him, personally, as the enemy?

You'd do well to remember the words of George Santayana: "Fanaticism consists in redoubling your effort when you have forgotten your aim."

[songsformonkeys]

Saying I love you through a movie (Javi G x Bodyguard!reader)

Month: April

Word count: ~2800

Warnings: Spoilers for a movie that came out in 1992

Notes: Javi takes his bodyguard camping and tries to express his feelings through a movie. Part of the Bodyguard!verse. Find the rest of it on my masterlist

Beta read by my wonderful @yespolkadotkitty <3

The rest of the Year of Creation stories

@yearofcreation2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You really should have seen this coming.

Javi had brought up the idea of going on a camping trip a few weeks back – during a screening of The Blair Witch Project, that you very much regretted having agreed to – and you'd barely let him finish the sentence before telling him: ”No! Absolutely not!”

It wasn't even primarily about the movie, although you couldn't say that it inspired the same desire in you to venture into the woods as it apparently had in your boss. There was just no way you would let Javi stay in a flimsy fabric tent in the middle of nowhere and pretend that you had any chance in Hell of keeping him safe.

Javi had protested, because of course he had. He'd tried to persuade you using both his patented puppy eyes and sad sighing. But against all odds – perhaps aided by the horrified screams from the movie in the background – you had held your ground. Few things sounded less tempting than a massacre in the woods.

The fact that Javi had actually given up soon after, with nothing but a dejected sigh, really should have given you pause.

But you had pridefully chalked it up to the firmness of your voice having been able to inspire some extra sense of respect for authority in Javi. Even if he had an arsenal of tricks to try and convince you to let him do things he wanted to, he always listened to you when it actually mattered.

Except for when it came to camping trips, apparently.

The deception was revealed weeks later when Javi had asked to go for a walk in the garden after dinner. That in itself wasn't anything unusual. Javi often asked you to join him on his evening strolls. It was a sort of routine that had been going on for months now. Javi said the fresh air helped him think and work through whatever creative hurdle he was currently struggling with.

He used you as a sounding board for his thoughts and ideas, though your participation was a very passive one. You weren't educated enough in the field to actually give any useful creative advice, so mostly you just listened. But Javi always thanked you at the end of the walks, as if your contribution had been invaluable.

And with all this in mind, you didn't find it particularly odd when Javi reached over with a tap to your bicep to get your attention and asked if you wanted to go with him.

It wasn't odd. The quick exchange of a look between your colleagues, however...

You were certain that you had seen them glance at each other, out of the corner of your eye, but when you turned to face them, there had been no trace of anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual easy-going conversation that always flowed around the dinner table in Javi's house.

Feeling somewhat paranoid and doubting yourself, you'd stood up to follow Javi outside. If you checked that your gun was properly holstered one extra time, you made sure to do it when you were out of sight from the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spotted the baby blue atrocity beneath one of the stone walls well before Javi had the decency to confess to his crimes, and you almost grabbed him to pull him behind you, before it properly registered what it was that you were seeing. Then you stopped dead in your tracks and turned away from the tent to give Javi an outraged look.

In return, he gave you an innocently hopeful smile.

”Javi...” you said, voice halfway between disbelieving and weary.

”Hear me out,” Javi said quickly, holding his hands up as if surrendering, even if you realized he had no plans whatsoever to do just that. He never had. This much was becoming more and more evident as Javi looked like he was preparing to deliver a well-rehearsed speech.”You said no when I asked because it was not safe. This... this is safe.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Javi made a tsking noise and snapped his fingers like you were a dog. You would have gotten offended if your brain wasn't partially occupied with trying to figure out how the Hell Javi had managed to orchestrate this whole thing without you knowing. He was usually an open book and it was quite frankly a bit concerning that he had managed to pull a fast one on you like this.

Javi's next words pulled you back to the here and now.

”The others have promised to watch the garden all night. There are so many cameras. I would not be safer in my bed.”

The others...

You didn't say anything. Technically, Javi was probably correct. But recruiting the others to help trick you was still a low blow and not something you approved of at all.

Javi looked at you with pleading eyes.

”Please,” he told you. ”I've never been camping. I just wanted to go, this one time.”

In the end, it was the please that did it. Every fucking time...

You fished your cell phone out of your pocket, hitting speed dial. It only rang once before Manolo picked up.

”I want an extra security sweep of the garden,” you told him, ignoring the surprised laugh from Javi in the background. ”And I want all the motion sensors switched on, and there better be two eyes glued to the feed until we're back in the house in the morning.”

”You got it, boss!” came the reply and you could hear the bastard smirk. You let out a steadying breath through your nose.

”Oh, and Manolo,” you said. “Fuck you!”

There was laughter on the other end of the line when you hung up.

Looking up, you were met with the brightest grin, and something inside you did a weird somersault.

”Come on,” you told him, voice softening, but still adding an empty threat: ”Before I change my mind.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tent Javi had bought was nothing too flashy, but big enough for two people to be able to sleep without twisting themselves into pretzels, which was a point in its favor.

When Javi crawled inside, you noticed two backpacks – one looking suspiciously like your own – and two thick sleeping bags, along with a pile of pillows and blankets. Thankfully, all of them sans the face of Nicolas Cage. No tent would be big enough to share with that face. The pillow you had been gifted when you started working for Javi still haunted you from the deepest part of your closet. It was only out of consideration for Javi's feelings that it hadn't been burnt.

All in all, the tent looked very comfortable. You were by no means a stranger to spending nights in a tent or sleeping on the ground, and this looked to be as close to cozy as you would get while sleeping outdoors.

It quickly became clear that while you were more than happy with the level of comfort of this sleeping arrangement, the same could not be said for Mr. Javi Gutierrez.

Since you had entered the tent, you didn't think he'd been still for more than a couple of seconds. He was tossing and turning on his side of the tent, huffing out annoyed breaths when no position seemed to offer the comfort he wanted.

”There are perfectly good beds in the house,” you eventually suggested.

”No,” Javi replied stubbornly. ”I just...” He moved again.

You decided to take pity on him, even though he had very much brought this on himself.

”Here, let me...” you said, waving a hand at him. ”Roll up against the wall.”

Javi did as he was told and you pushed your sleeping bag over to his side for extra padding. You wouldn't be using it anyway, because the maniac next to you had brought sleeping bags fit for Arctic climate to a camping trip in Mallorca in April. You'd boil alive sleeping inside one of those. The heap of blankets Javi had also brought would be more than enough to keep you warm through the night.

”Better?” you asked when Javi rolled back onto the now two sleeping bags.

”Won't you need it?” Javi asked, actually sounding concerned, which made you want to reach over to smooth out the furrow that had formed between his eyebrows.

”I've slept in far worse places,” you assured him. ”This is fine.”

Javi didn't look entirely pleased with that answer but he seemed to decide to let it slide, for now.

”You want to watch a movie?” he suggested instead and the tone with which he asked piqued your interest. There was a note of nervousness, which was unusual when Javi spoke about movies.

”Sure,” you said, raising an eyebrow in question.

Javi didn't provide any further details, just nodded and brought out his iPad. Seeming to avoid your gaze, he started tapping away at the screen, and you decided that whatever he was up to, it most likely wouldn't result in any actual danger. Worst case, you were in for another horror movie. 

So while Javi decided on which movie he wanted to watch, you let your head fall back against your pillow and brought up your phone to check in with the house.

Less than ten seconds after you had sent the message, Manolo replied and gave the all-clear, along with a request to please relax and just enjoy having the evening off.

During the exchange, Javi had finished setting up the movie. Rolling over to face him, you realized too late that with the iPad propped up against Javi's backpack like that, there was only one way to arrange yourselves for both of you to be able to see the screen.

You were proven correct a moment later when Javi laid down and scooted back a little, effectively turning himself into the little spoon in front of you. You tensed up, and Javi must have noticed because he asked ”Is this okay?” with his feet bumping nervously against yours. And you wanted to tell him ”No” because nothing about this situation was technically okay, considering he was in fact your boss.

Instead, you heard your traitorous mouth answer the question with a slightly hoarse ”Yeah. It's fine.”

That seemed to relax Javi at least. Not you.

You were suddenly acutely aware of your arm and where to put it. It was balancing awkwardly on your own thigh, a safe distance from where the soft blue fabric of Javi's shirt dipped slightly at his waist.

When Javi started the movie, you were too preoccupied with the proximity of your bodies to immediately register just which movie that was.

The name Kevin Costner appeared on screen and there was something at the back of your mind, some vague sort of recognition. It clicked when his name was closely followed by Whitney Houston's.

The Bodyguard. You were about to watch The Bodyguard.

Closing your eyes, you held back the sigh before it could pass between your lips. Javi would notice. And he would say something about it. Something you wouldn't know how to reply to. It would be better if you pretend not to notice. If you just watched the movie in silence, ignoring any and all similarities to your real lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You envied Frank Farmer with an unflattering intensity that might have left your cheeks with a faint tint of green. Along with it came a bitter feeling that – if you were perfectly honest – was just as much aimed at yourself as the fictional character on the small screen in front of you.

Logically, you were fully aware that what you were watching was nothing but a Hollywood spectacle, a series of events where someone had already decided on a satisfying enough ending to justify the journey and the events that led up to it, a story where even the mistakes served a purpose and no fuck up was big enough to cause irreparable damage.

Still, you both envied and resented Frank for how easily he seemed to give in to the flirtations of the person he was supposed to keep safe and alive. Especially, when it took every fiber of your being to stop yourself from doing just the same, to stop yourself leaning forward to brush your lips over the tanned skin just below the curls at the nape of Javi's neck.

It would be the easiest thing and the hardest thing in the world at once. Not because you were worried Javi would push you away, but because you knew that he wouldn’t. And the two of you didn't have the Hollywood assurance that everything would turn out OK in the end, didn't have the guarantee that giving into months' worth of developing feelings wouldn't be just the thing that – maybe not today or tomorrow, but some day – caused the death of the gentle man in front of you that, against all odds, had taken a liking to you as well.

You were hired to protect, and in Javi's case, it had turned out that meant to protect him both from external threats but also from himself and his bleeding heart.

So when Javi shifted to move even closer, you put your hand at his waist, not to pull him in but to stop him.

”I'm not Kevin Costner,” you told him and Javi let out a sad chuckle.

”No,” he said, ”You're better.”

You agreed - even if better probably meant different things for you and Javi - and the limitations that came with being better pained you. You were better. You had to be.

Javi didn't say anything more after that. Not until the twist in the movie where it was revealed who had hired the hitman to kill Rachel.

”I can't believe someone would betray their family like that,” he whispered, as if not to interrupt what was happening on screen.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you could absolutely believe it and that, if murder statistics were taken into consideration, the sister had been the most likely suspect right from the start. You'd seen it many times over, the things that people were willing to do to their supposed family. The fact that Javi couldn't even fathom such a thing as a possibility was a constant worry at the back of your mind. He was too trusting. Always too goddamn trusting!

The ending of the movie was, in your opinion, the most realistic thing about the whole story. Whatever the characters had didn't last. Of course, it didn't. It was nothing but a silly fantasy to think that it ever could. There were too many things besides feelings to take into consideration.

Whitney Houston sang about love and you wanted to break the iPad because Javi started singing along. It was quiet and out of tune but you heard every ”I love you” so clearly, and you knew it was not a coincidence.

Nails dug into your palms as you tightly clenched your hands into fists. Pain to distract yourself from the unbidden images of rolling Javi onto his back to...no!

You just needed to hold out a little longer, just until the song stopped and the end credits had finished rolling.

But Javi surprised you by reaching forward to turn off the iPad in the middle of the credits, when the last note of I Will Always Love You rang out. It was out of character and you realized that you had approximately 2 seconds to react before Javi did something you would both regret.

So you sat up.

”We should get some sleep,” you told him, pretending to look for something in your backpack. ”It's late.”

You waited until you heard Javi shifting back to his own side of the tent, and felt like a complete asshole.

Immensely grateful for the complete darkness of the tent, you laid back down, rolling over onto your side, facing away from Javi. You didn't want to see the rejection on his face, or worse, have him realize that the pain was mirrored on your own face as well.

It was better for him to stop trying and just let you protect him.

As if reading your mind, Javi spoke from the other side of the tent a few moments later, in the gentlest voice imaginable.

”You could do both. I know you could.”

You pretended not to have heard him but stared into the darkness long after you heard him fall asleep behind you.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 16 Chapter 16 | bonded⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

A week into your new role at HYBE, you've started to settle into the rhythm of your responsibilities. With Jinji working from home, you're now stationed in his office, a space that's gradually becoming more familiar each day.

Today's agenda begins with a task that seems straightforward enough: delivering scripts to Yoongi for his upcoming press conference.

As you approach Yoongi's studio, the door slightly ajar, the distinct sound of a beat being crafted flows out into the hallway, drawing you in. It's the background music for the OST he's working on, a project that's been the buzz of the building.

Pausing at the threshold, you listen for a moment, the complexity and depth of the composition striking a chord within you.

Knocking lightly before entering, you find Yoongi immersed in his work, headphones on, his focus evident in his furrowed brow and the way his fingers dance over the mixing board. He looks up, a bit startled, as you step inside, the scripts in hand.

"I've got the scripts for the upcoming press conference," you announce, placing them on a nearby surface.

Yoongi nods, offering a brief "Thanks," before his attention returns to the music. But as you're about to leave, something in the melody catches your ear—a minor discord that seems to beg for resolution.

Hesitating, you turn back to Yoongi, noticing a hint of frustration in his demeanor, a sign he's been grappling with this very section. 

"Um, Yoongi-ssi," you begin, hesitating for just a moment. "The track is incredible, but there's a section where maybe...," you trail off, not wanting to overstep but feeling compelled to share your thought.

Seeing his intrigued yet cautious expression, you take a small step forward. "May I?" you ask, gesturing toward the headphones. With a nod from Yoongi, you slip them on, the music enveloping you, its details even more pronounced now.

"It's just here," you say, pointing to a segment on the screen. "Maybe it could go something like this?" Without thinking, you hum out a melody, a bridge that could seamlessly connect the disjointed verse, your voice steady and clear.

Yoongi's expression shifts from skepticism to consideration, his eyes narrowing as he replays the section, then listens to your suggestion again. A moment of silence hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation, and after observing Yoongi's contemplative expression, you immediately take it as disapproval.

Your mind races with thoughts of having overstepped your boundaries, and you can't help but feel a surge of panic at the thought of making a misstep so early in your role.

With a wave of anxiety washing over you, you instantly regret voicing your suggestion. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overstep. Please ignore me," you stammer, your confidence evaporating as quickly as it arrived.

With a flurry of bows, more awkward than respectful, you mumble a string of apologies. "I just thought—sorry, it won't happen again," you add, your voice laced with embarrassment. Placing the folder containing the scripts beside Yoongi with a little too much haste, you make a beeline for the door, eager to escape what you perceive as an uncomfortable situation.

Once outside, you take a deep breath, mentally chastising yourself for the impromptu input. "You're doing too much, Y/N, calm down..." you mutter under your breath, a reminder to keep your observations to yourself in the future.

Meanwhile, back in the studio, Yoongi watches your hasty retreat with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Despite your apparent nervousness, the melody you hummed lingered in his mind, a curious and unexpected interjection that sparked his interest.

After a moment's hesitation, curiosity wins out, and he decides to give your suggestion a try.

Adjusting the track, Yoongi integrates your hummed melody into the section, his skilled fingers working the controls with ease. As the new bridge fills the studio, blending seamlessly with the surrounding verses, a surprised smile creases his lips.

It works—better than he'd anticipated. The track now flows with a newfound cohesion, the awkward jump smoothed over by the melody you provided.

Leaning back in his chair, Yoongi allows himself a moment of appreciation for the serendipitous contribution. "Not bad," he murmurs, a nod to your unexpected talent and a mental note that perhaps, just perhaps, there's more to you than meets the eye.

☆

☆

The next day, while engrossed in your tasks, you're startled when Yoongi's personal assistant approaches your desk, a serious yet gentle expression on her face. "Yoongi-ssi would like to see you in his studio," she informs you, an undercurrent of something unspoken in her voice that piques your curiosity.

As you enter Yoongi's studio, the air is filled with a different kind of energy, quieter and more introspective. Yoongi greets you with a nod, motioning for you to take a seat.

You sit, nervously fidgeting under his scrutinizing gaze. The room feels heavy with unspoken expectations, making your heart race.

Yoongi breaks the silence, his voice steady. "Have you ever considered producing?" he asks, eyes locked on yours.

You're caught off guard, a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind. "P-Producing? Me? No, I've never really thought about it," you stutter out, your voice trailing off as you avert your gaze, feeling out of your depth.

Yoongi huffs lightly, a hint of impatience or perhaps curiosity in his tone. He leans over, pressing a button on his console.

Suddenly, the familiar tune from the previous day fills the room, but now there's an additional layer—a subtle melody that you recognize as your own humming from yesterday. The integration is seamless, adding a new depth to the piece.

Your eyes widen in surprise, a mix of pride and disbelief washing over you. "That's... that's the melody I hummed," you murmur, almost to yourself, amazed at how your casual hum has been transformed into a part of this beautiful composition.

Seeing your surprise, Yoongi leans back, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "See? You have a good ear. It's not just about playing instruments or knowing music theory. It's about feeling the music, understanding it. You did that instinctively."

His words resonate with you, stirring a newfound confidence. Perhaps there's more to your connection with music than you've allowed yourself to acknowledge.

Yoongi's expression softens, his demeanor shifting as he shares a piece of his own story. "At first, I was skeptical about Bang PD-nim's plan," he admits, "thinking it was just about appeasing some rich man's daughter. But then I learned you're Yuuji's sister."

"Your brother, was someone I admired," Yoongi continues, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and admiration. "His passion, his music, his fight with cancer—I respected him greatly. It inspired me, especially when I was just starting out. So knowing you're his sister... it feels like fate's way of connecting dots."

After a moment of silence, Yoongi extends an unexpected offer. "How about you try your hand at this? Help me with some lyrics or beats for the OST. No pressure, just explore and see where it takes you."

The offer feels like a lifeline, an opportunity to delve into the world Yuuji loved, to contribute in a way you'd never imagined. Nodding, you reply, a mixture of excitement and determination in your voice. "I'd...I'd like to try. Thank you, Yoongi-ssi."

***why does yoongi give off big-brother protective vibes???? wish i had a brother waaahhh...

[dragonshoardofwriting]

Any quirk ideas for like a detective? I'm thinking of making a oc that's a detective

Oooo, I love detectives!

Quirk: Faint Presence Desc: Upon activation, living beings stop noticing the user. Does not work on people who were focusing on the user at the time of activation. Effect disappears if the user does something to bring attention to themself. Notes: Good for tailing people, listening in to conversations, or sneaking into places if your detective is more of a not bound by rules variety.

Quirk: Last moments Desc: Upon touching a corpse, the user relieves the last moments of the person it belongs to. Notes: Classic of supernatural detective stories. So long as your victim didn't actually see the killer as they died, it just gives clues instead of destroying the whole mystery. But! If they do see the killer, it can instead be a plot of "I know who the killer is, but I need to get the evidence/get them to confess or else they won't get convicted!"

Quirk: Enhanced senses Desc: Gives the user enhanced senses. Notes: Plain and basic, but very useful for story purposes. The detective has easier time finding clues, and might even get some regular humans couldn't (like noticing a smell that's too faint for human senses) - it also explains why the culprit didn't try to destroy said clues, they were just impossible to notice for a basic human.

Quirk: Voice Mimicry Desc: Allows the user to mimic voices and sounds they've previously heard. Notes: More so for less law-bound detectives, it's a nice plot piece where deception is key. Impersonating others by voice, tricking people with noises, a crafty person can find many uses for this ability while pursuing a case.

Quirk: Empathy Desc: Allows the user to feel what emotions other people are feeling. Notes: A rather popular quirk idea, and a good fit for a detective. They know what someone is feeling at any time, *but* they might not know why. Allows to keep the mystery while providing clues.

Quirk: Cyberlink Desc: Lets the user link with electronic devices, letting the user access anything on them while bypassing their security measures. To link with a device the user has to either touch it directly, or go through a network it's connected with via another device. Note: A very useful quirk in the age where everything is connected to the internet. Basically results in a super-hacker type of detective. They can access classified documents, personal messages and all other sorts of stuff they lawfully shouldn't have access to, but which will likely help them pursue a case.

Quirk: Spirit Board Desc: The user can summon a spirit board, which only answers yes or no questions. Notes: Allows the detective to get clues, if they can figure out the right questions to ask. However, as readers would probably notice, the detective may just go around asking "Is this person the culprit?" with every person of interest they find. For some mysteries it could be a feature, not a bug. For others, I'd personally advise adding some conditions to quirk usage that'd prevent brute-force methods like that, like only getting a set number of questions to ask a day.

Quirk: Perfect recall Desc: The user has perfect memory and doesn't forget anything. Notes: Pretty basic of a superpower, but a useful device for a detective story. Removes the unrealisticness of a character being able to remember every little detail to put together later. Also, if you give your character a backstory of reading books on many subjects to be well-versed in whatever may be needed, it accounts for them having plot-convenient knowledge (since they would remember all the book details - you just have to be sure it's realistic for them to have studied something. So, knowledge of basic medicine is more viable than, for example, knowing symbolic meanings of flowers in a culture in a time period - they just have more reasons to believe basic medicine would come up [like for examining bodies] than that flower meanings would. Not to say they can't know both, it may just feel less reasonable to readers)

Quirk: Strings of Fate Desc: Upon activation on a person, the user can see strings tying that person to people they have some relation with. The colour informs the kind of relation it is, while the thickness of the string signifies the depth of the relation. Notes: It's basically free clues. Might help with uncovering motives. Also, lends itself well to an emotionally intelligent detective, who can use those different relationships they get to know about to their advantage.

[lost-amongst-the-stars]

Therapy recap

We started off talking about the "people can decide I'm lying and nothing I say or do can convince them otherwise" spiral and the closely related"someone could lie about me and nothing I could say would disprove them" spiral. I explained that I know this spiral goes back to at least our teens and we would often end up in intense panic attacks when we got stuck in these spirals. I talked about how both with my father and at school, I was often accused of lying when I was telling the truth and the more I protested, the more it was used as evidence of my deceitfulness ("the lady doth protest too much" as my father often repeated). C said something wondering about the fixation on lying and I was like oh that probably is bc when our parents found out we were faking sick (to the point of forcing ourselves to throw up), their response was to punish us for lying by making us sit in a dark room alone and look up every Bible verse about lying and copy it by hand. And they repeatedly emphasized how we, at 9yo, had broken their trust and would have to spend years working to earn it back. C asked what I thought of the idea of a child breaking their parents trust and I said it's ridiculous. We talked for awhile about how it's a part of childhood development to play around with lying and test boundaries and such. I ranted about how absurd it is to hold children to a standard of utter truthfulness while these same adults will see it as justifiable to lie to the children they punish for lies.

Then we talked about the new years party and how unpleasant it was for me. Feeling alienated talking with K and K2. Being left alone with K2 while K went to pick up S and feeling on edge the whole time. S and K getting home just as the other guests arrived so the house went from quiet to overwhelming in an instant. The dragged out board game and the awkward push and pull between conversing and playing. Our friends younger sister insulting me and just generally acting like a pretension mean girl. K2 spending the night so having to socialize first thing in the morning and not knowing when she'd leave. And that I feel like I'm still recovering from the party.

[theroseandthebeast]

Yuletide 2024 Recs, Batch Five + Final

16 recs for The Princess Bride, Ready or Not?, Saltburn, Severance, Shogun, The Silt Verses, The Substance, Sunshine, Transistor, True Detective: Night Country, Werewolf By Night, The Westing Game, and The Wizard The Witch & The Wild One / Worlds Beyond Number

The Princess Bride - That Supreme Charm, Fezzik

Fezzik's lifelong journey to understand his love of rhymes

Ready or Not? - quietly they are singing, Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas

The air in Grace's hospital room is so thick with agitated Le Domas ghosts that it is almost impossible for her to breathe.

Ready or Not? - It's Here That I Belong, Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas

"I'm alive," he whispers, his voice raw, "how?" She could ask the same thing about herself.

Ready or Not? - could only ever win by losing, Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas

Daniel comes back to life. He may or may not be depressed. (He is.) He and Grace may or may not be living together. (They are.) And Daniel may or may not be falling in love with her. (Of course he is.) Daniel may also be doomed to play a board game every month or else die horribly all over again. (This is unclear.)

Saltburn - Ways Out Of the Labyrinth, Felix Catton/Oliver Quick

Felix wakes up dirty, feathers strewn about him as if melted. Oliver is curled up in a nest of their clothes nearby. His eyes move beneath the lids.

Severance - Spritzer, Mark Scout

Mark's new co-workers suck. They suck so hard it must be precision sucking designed specifically to drive him nuts. -- Mark's trying to help his innie, really. It's not his fault he's a history professor and not an international super spy.

Shogun - Water welling from the fire, Ochiba No Kata/Toda Mariko & John Blackthorne/Toda Mariko

They have never been afraid of the storm.

The Silt Verses - Born to the Water, Carpenter & Faulkner & Em Glass

Born to the faith, or called to it, all currents find their way to the same silent garden beneath the waves.

The Substance - seams, Elisabeth Sparkle/Sue

Elisabeth cradles Sue’s cheek. “Sorry, honey,” she murmurs. Her teeth are blindingly white. It gives her smile an awful, uncanny look. Elisabeth strokes the pad of her thumb across Sue’s mouth–then, to Sue’s surprise, dips her thumb between Sue’s lips. “Sorry,” she apologizes, again, before pulling one of Sue’s front teeth out. It falls so easily out of her gums. Blood spurts across Elisabeth’s hand. She doesn’t seem to mind. She swallows Sue’s tooth without hesitation, without water, her expression melancholic all the while. - (Elisabeth Sparkle misuses the Substance. Sue pays the price.)

Sunshine - doer, Robert Capa/Mace & Corazon/Mace

Dreamer, Mace thinks again, not angry, not even resigned anymore. Capa just is, and Mace is, and here they all are, only hours from the sun.

Transistor - things we keep for us alone, Mr. Nobody | Man Inside Transistor/Red

They’re nearly a week into their fifth date, Red tuning her voice for the evening’s concert, when Nobody finally says aloud what they’re both thinking.

True Detective: Night Country - Bury a Friend, Liz Danvers/Evangeline Navarro

It’s been almost a year since Navarro stood here, since there was a credit card receipt or paycheck cashed or capture on security footage or any other evidence of her existence. Danvers thinks about how the dark can swallow a person up

True Detective: Night Country - what beasts the night dreams

A year later in the dark: Ennis through other eyes.

Werewolf By Night - new moon. new magic., Elsa Bloodstone/Jack Russell

The wards on Bloodstone Manor have been maintained for hundreds of years via blood sacrifice. Elsa has a hypothesis that a more …metaphoric death may suffice.

The Westing Game - Changes in the Wind, Theo Theodorakis/Turtle Wexler

Ten years after the Westing Game, T. R. Wexler (on leave of absence from Harvard Law) seeks out Theo Theodorakis (freelance writer, arcanist, researcher, and library-lurker) on time-sensitive business: Samuel Westing's legacy, in the form of a contract unfulfilled and a debt unpaid. The old man left unfinished business with the Fair Folk, and now the final deadline is coming near...

The Wizard The Witch and the Wild One / Worlds Beyond Number - spanning constellations, Ame & The Fox & Suvirin "Suvi" Kedberiket & Eursulon Toma & Grandma Wren

The day after the Summer Matsuri, the kids prepare a meal.

[eurovision-revisited]

Eurovision 2003 - Number 4 - Sertab Erener - "Everyway That I Can"

This is the highest a Eurovision winner has been in my lists for a while. If there's one thing Eurovision has missed for the past four or five years, it's winner that was a hit. Sertab Erener and Türkiye provided that in 2003. Everyway That I Can came out of nowhere on the night to spring a surprise (and last minute) win, then went on to be a hit all around Europe throughout the summer.

Sertab herself was already a star in Türkiye, having had several number 1 singles and five albums, several of which were also big hits. TRT had decided to go with an internal selection in 2003 having had several years of mid-table results. While never really being in danger of relegation, TRT wanted better. Picking Sertab was an opportunity too big to miss. They went with a song written by herself and her long-time song-writing partner Demir Demirkan (former guitarist with Anatolian thrash metal band Mezarkabul).

Türkiye was a country that had stuck by its native language entirely, even when the language rule had been removed, they stayed true to Turkish. It was announced that the song would be entirely in English, there were complaints. But TRT stuck to their guns. Everyway That I Can is a dramatic, contemporary pop song with a Turkish rhythm and instrumental grace notes incorporated into something thoroughly modern.

It's stuffed full of drama, both in terms of the lyrical need for a desperate no-holds barred seduction, and in terms of the progression of the song from verse to chorus to the semi-rapped Spice Girly bridge while her dancers treat Sertab as a pink-wrapped maypole. There are plenty of opportunities for belly-dancing and hipsway. It's astonishing how well packaged the entire song is. It is everything you could wish for in a Eurovision winner.

The scoring sequence with Türkiye creeping up the board and pulling a win out of the bag in the final two votes was astonishing, and looked like it came as miraculous shock to the Turkish delegation. Their joy at winning is evident during one of the most happily celebratory reprises the Eurovision stage has seen. Türikye had finally got their first win and Sertab would forever be remembered not just in Türkiye but across Europe.

It wasn't the first time she'd tried to enter Eurovision. She'd finished third at Şarkı Yarışması 1989 and sixth in 1990. After that, her career took her to other places, but 2003 came along just at the perfect moment for her. Since then she's cemented her position in the Turkish musical world, releasing album after album and at least forty singles in total. She sings pop, traditional Turkish music, jazz and has found inspiration in the voice of Barbara Streisand.

Here she is singing Olsun with the İzmir Big Band in 2018.

[the-hatchetfield-chronicles]

Journal log; 6/13/20

I figured I needed something fun to distract me from my nightmare, and what better than a theme park? I’ve always loved riding roller coasters, so naturally I decided to visit Watcher World! I brought my journal as well in case I find any evidence while I’m here.

Mayor Lauter mentioned the park was home to the tallest rollercoaster in the midwest, so I think I’ll ride that one first!!

————

That was so fun!!! I just went around riding all the rides and it was a blast!! The Tear-Jerker was definitely my favorite! I would go and play games now, but I think Blinky’s Watch Party is about to start! I’m very curious about this Blinky character, especially after the way Mayor Lauter talked about him. Plus, I do love musicals, so I think it’ll be fun!

————

The show began with these creatures called Sniggles, who had fuzzy purple wings, purple antennae, and purple shirts that say “Blinky” on the front. They sang a song which was…weird to say the least. They sang about their master, Blinky, but the weird part comes with the horrible treatment he subjects them to? For example, the first verse mentions that if they upset him, he “spills their guts”?? And if they ever cry, they don’t get to eat for a whole week?? For a show that seemed like it was aimed towards kids, it was surprisingly dark. They also sang about what Blinky was like personally. He has a big red and yellow eye, and fur that “spills out and makes the town drowsy,” whatever that means. His giant eye turns red whenever he’s mad, which it sounds like is quite often. They said something about…”When the nightmare hits, our eyes don’t ever shut,” which made me feel pretty uneasy, especially after last night.

After that song was over, the Sniggles ran offstage to I think get snacks? One Sniggle remained onstage, and her name was Snigglette. She sang about her dream of leaving Drowsy Town and starting a family in Snoozle Town. At the end, she was about to board the train to Snoozle Town, but then turned around, saying she’ll “catch the next one.” Her friend overheard her and got angry at her for wanting to leave Drowsy Town. He called her a traitor and said that she was making Blinky cry. I was really feeling anxious for Snigglette, but then Papa Sniggle entered before anything could happen to her. He said that the town was overrun with Snuggle-Bugs, and he began hitting them with a mallet.

The rest of the show was kind of boring. They sang some more songs and told us more about Blinky, but nothing really stood out to me. I was curious though. I remembered what Mayor Lauter had said, emphasizing that Blinky and everything else was entirely fictional. It made me think that there was some truth behind this Blinky character. So after the show ended, I approached one of the actors, the woman who played Snigglette, and asked if I could interview her.