#been a rollercoaster of a night lads

[six-of-ravens]

GOOD NEWS! GRANDMA DOESN'T HAVE COVID.

NEITHER DOES THE FRIEND WHO CALLED EARLIER AND SAID SHE HAD IT. SHE DID 2 MORE TESTS AND THE FIRST ONE WAS A FALSE POSITIVE.

[b4kuch1n]

hahaha wheee haha

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure - Part 3

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART!- 

SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING

I’m going to apologize to you all now, and prewarn you in advance, this is an absolute rollercoaster of a storyline! Shits about to get REAL messy! 

TAG LIST - @babybatlover

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Part 3

Late afternoon had seen the sun burn the remainder of the clouds from the sky, leaving a beautiful blue horizon view from across the backyard. Flocks of birds gathered as they headed over the break line, waving in and out of the smoke coming from our BBQ pit. 

I sat, gently rocking my feet back and forth on the chair egg swing we had attached to one of the older grand oak trees in our yard. It was all I had wanted when we moved in, somewhere calm and content where I could just exist. Enjoy my time, enjoy my life, and admire the world around me. Ponder life’s big questions… 

‘LOCKER WITNESSES’ 

I re read that message repeatedly in my mind, who was it from? witnessed what? 

I had deleted the other text from my phone, I wasn’t going down that road. 

The sounds of two men’s deep voices bought me back, looking over to my lovers I could see Finn & Damien adorned in their matching ‘TOP CHEF’ aprons and cooking utensils with a beer in hand, either chatting away or debating about how best to cook the chicken. 

Whilst further down on the sun loungers, Rhea had stripped down to one of her thin black bikinis with the metal skull clip fastenings, she was catching the last of the sunrays to her already perfect Sunkissed skin.  Christ, how did I get so lucky as to be a part of this incredible love…. Pentagon? It’s a five-way love triangle, let’s leave it at that.

When we had been initially searching for a house to buy, one to really call home that is; we had all had something in mind we desperately wanted as a feature. We knew it needed to be a big house, one with a master bedroom where we could assemble out two King size beds that had been custom made to attach in the middle, I cannot begin to tell you how comfortable and comforting it is being held close and safe by the four people you love more than anything in the world. 

The guilt though…

Still, obviously Rhea & Finn were dead set on having a large garage/ open internal space to set up the home gym. Of course, whilst on the road we still used a lot of public gyms and one-off hotel workout rooms here and there, but when we are at home, in each other’s company, away from the world, the fans, all that attention. It is so lovely knowing we don’t have to leave our little safe haven.

Damian had specifically made it clear he wanted a huge kitchen, open planned that backed into a dinning area. When we moved in, he had taken the time to build up a barista style coffee corner and a breakfast station on the central island. Then with Finn’s help, they worked on a D.I.Y project together to design and create a full bar set up next to the table and chairs where we ate. They had eventually given in and allowed Dom to help with the painting of the bar, because he wanted to be a ‘DIY Man’ too. 

The boys always referred to it as the lad’s corner, a custom-built wooden bar that was painted a deep tranquil green and black with illuminated LED letters on the wall; ‘ALL RISE, ALL DRINK’.   That however did not stop Rhea and I from emptying some of those back bar bottles on one of many messy nights! For some reason, whenever Rhea breaks out the Tequila, we always end up playing strip twister… Odd. 

Dominick, of course… wanted a gaming room. Not just any gaming room mind you, a ‘Mens” gaming room. 

*Sigh* 

Problem is he is just so adorable at times, and we all give in, he had been granted his request of course! Although Priest put his foot down when Dom had asked for an indoor arcade style basketball hoop game, he was allowed a hoop outside but that was it. We had all seen enough broken windows during the season when Finn had tried to teach Damien and Dominick how to play golf. 

It still makes me laugh when the boys talk about how they would feel guilty that they were off spending time together, while Rhea and I would miss out? Ha. Little did they know when they buggered off to do ‘man’s stuff’ we girls would high tail it upstairs to the family bathroom and strip off into the bathtub for some… girl’s time. *Wink Wink* 

I remember one morning; Rhea and I were standing in the arched doorway at the crack of dawn waving the boys off as they set out on an early start to play a full days Golf. Leaning into her chest I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes as she bent her head down and nuzzled her lips into the crook of my neck. 

“I tell you now Y/N, I would rather run the risk of drowning when we get in that bathtub, and I bury my face deep in your pussy… then stand in a damp field hitting a stick at a ball.” Her teeth nipped at the skin of my ear lobe and my entire body melted at her touch. 

Christ the things that woman does to me. 

A loud crash had bought me back to reality, Dom had been trying to carry a tray of drinks out to the garden for us all but had tripped over some excess weigh plates we had left outside, sending the poor lad flying arse over tit. 

“Shit! God damn it, ow fuck!” Dom pulled himself up to his knees, swiping the drinks tray away in frustration before noticing blood trickling down his arm from the glasses that he had smashed across the decking. He was quick to freeze, unable to process what to do next or how to stand up safely. 

Rhea was quick to make her way over to him from the sun lounger, followed by Damian who handed Finn his spatula and beer before rushing over to help the poor lad. 

I know, I know I should have been focused on the fact that the boy I loved so much needed some help, some TLC, compassion, and support… 

But I am only human. 

And Rhea Bloody Ripley…. 

Running….

In a mini black laced bikini…

Slightly wet from the heat of the sun touching her skin, God how she glistened. How she got my motor running and…

Finn had noticed my distraction and whistled loudly, gathering my attention. 

“Aye! Lass, enough of that! Go... Take a lap!” He gestured, pointing to the end of the field in our garden. The yard stretched about 1/4 of a mile down and was cut off by the woodland. One of my favorite things about this house was the nature that came with it. It all felt so…natural and back down to earth compared to the chaos and mayhem at WWE. 

Pointing his BBQ tongs and Damian’s spatula at me, Finn raised his eyebrow. 

“No distractions, ya hear!” 

I tried not to laugh at his remark, turning my face away to hide my snicker and rolling my eyes. I was still wearing my gym gear from before; except I had nabbed one of Dominick’s merch shirts on the way to the garden from the drying rack, I was self-conscious about my stomach, and I liked to hide my body where I could. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!” Finn sternly questioned me as he put the utensils down. 

At this point Rhea was taking Dom inside through the double doors, whilst Damian stood back up and turned in my direction. 

Fuck… they are hot when they get all dominant. 

“Mi Vida, did you roll your eyes?” Damian’s words were colder, flat, and prominent. I could tell he was almost looking for a reason to get me upstairs into the bedroom. Christ I was half tempted to give him a solid reason. 

Put me across your lap Papa Priest, let me feel the strength between your thighs and lay it into me Goddamn it! 

The devil on my shoulder sang its heart out at the idea, but I remembered earlier when Finn has spun the actions back against me. Leaving me alone and sexually frustrated I thought better of the situation. 

“Me? I would never…” I said quite obnoxious/sarcastically and smiled that cheeky brat look at them before hopping up off the tree swing. I could see Damian trying not to break or give in… but a slight smirk crept into the corner of his lips.  

“I’m going to take a lap!” I stated and grinned before making a run for it, heading down and out of sight from the lads. I had a much better plan in mind to deal with my frustrations when I got in the shower later anyway. 

I was out of breath by the time I got back towards our street, less than a ¼ mile to go! I had decided to go for a proper run to clear my mind. A good few miles should do the trick, that’s what Rhea always said! With my headphones in and a decent playlist on, nothing was going to stop me! 

One foot after another I pressed on, sweat dripping down my neck I desperately tried to Shake off all that nervous energy I had built up now that WrestleMania was less than 2 weeks away. I had been on edge at times, and it showed when I trained in the ring with Rhea and Dom. Running back-to-back moves, counters, pins, and submissions, it was like every time I thought I had learnt it someone would come along and wipe my slate clean, and I knew nothing again. 

Maybe I wasn’t ready to be a champion? 

Maybe I was out of my depth? 

Rhea should be in this match not me. 

Me? Y/W/N? Was I really cut out to be a champion? 

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket as I continued running. I tried looking at my smart watch as I ran, though it was tricky to focus on a smaller screen. 

I could see a couple messages from Finn stating the food was ready, one from Damian also telling me the food was ready, one from Dom telling me he was going to eat my hot dog if I didn’t hurry up and one from Rhea telling me she wasn’t going to let Dom touch my food. 

Honestly this lot, I love them so much. 

Turning into our street I could see our house gate entrance just up the hill, with a little spring in my step I pushed on feeling like I was picking up speed. I felt energized, I felt incredible, maybe I could do this after all! 

With the gate just in reach and the sweet smokey smell of the BBQ lingering in the air I put my head down to push those least few feet… 

But within a split second I felt something behind me. 

The music cut out as my headphones were launched to the floor and my arms locked in tight by a strength I hadn’t ever had to match. Kicking my legs out I felt them rise off the floor and before I could even fathom the mental capacity to make a sound the feeling of sticky back plastic tape suckered its way in across my lips. My eyes pooled up as the bag went over my head and my vision became darkness. A hard and cold metal floor was met with my body weight as I was hurled inside, my heart beating out of my chest the fear became all too real as I felt the ground under move away at speed. 

A hot breath came down my neck, raising every last hair on my skin to react. The voice was muffled, as if speaking through a mask. 

“You did this Y/N…” 

“You did this… and now you cannot handle the monster you created.” 

The silence in between each word was deafening, but it was the next voice that bought the fear of God into my soul. 

“ Told you I’d find you...miss me?” 

TO BE CONTINUED

[writingoddess1125]

Discovery

Previous << triplet series

⚠️ Warnings: ⚠️ Sad Topics, Postpartum Depression

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader +OOC

Simon had been to the worse of war zones, heard the deafening sound of gun fire and screams of the fallen.

However nothing would prepare him for being a father to 3 newborns..

The triplets had been in the NICU for 4 weeks before you and him could bring them home- Stuck on tubes for the first two weeks before transferring to bottles eventually.

What neither of you expected was the how your PPD kicked in- You felt.. awful in everyway. You loved your children, yet you felt- like you weren't the same person anymore because of your children... Which those thoughts had faded quickly and you managed to get over that a bit with the help of Simon. Truthfully you were thankful that Simon was here with you and that you had time to recover from the surgery before you got to take your babies home- it helped mentally and physically. Simon being there with you to hold you at night and help you was perfect-

The day the triplets came home was both the most magical day {besides their arrival of course} and most stressful-

Nothing could prepare you two for the next two week with the triplets. It had been a Rollercoaster of emotions you and Simon experienced. Diapers mainly from Hazel who liked to blow out her diapers which had turned into Simon almost vomiting-

Spit up, Mainly from Rose who seemed to take inspiration from the Exorcist and spit milk on you and other surfaces-

Lack of sleep, Your Sore Nipples from Pumping, Crying- So Much Crying.

Especially from Johnny-

Your little Johnny who seemed to be a colic baby...

Speaking of which, you stood in the nursery rocking Johnny as he screamed to the heavens. Hazel also screaming loudly as Rose just fussed- You were so exhausted, Simon downstairs as he put away the groceries he just got at the store, Johnny hadn't stopped screaming since Simon left- in truth he never stopped screaming ever.. You were at your wits end.. So out of it you didn't hear Simon coming in behind you till his hand touched your lower back.

"You take the girls love, I'll help with the Lad okay?" He said softly, reaching a hand fortlward to take the boy.

Being too tired to argue with him you hand him the screaming baby, walking off with the girls to get them bathed for bed and just lay them in the cot in your and Simon's room.

"For Fucks sakes kid you have a set of lungs on you" Simon muttered, rocking the newborn carefully against his chest as he finally began to settle down. Simon saying a prayer of thanks as the boy settled down in his arms-

The baby began to make some very loud gurgling sounds- Simon preparing for another burst of screaming but instead Johnny just gave loud noises as he started to drift off to sleep against his chest.

Simon stood there rocking Johnny in his arms, His brows furrowed in confusion- he was greatful that his boy was finally asleep but he couldn't help but think about them... His screams and coos were too loud and uneven, it was odd..

You walked into the room, giving a sigh of relief at seeing Johnny asleep and comforble. You having just started cleaning up a bit since the house was a total wreck-

"He's asleep" You whisper softly, Simon however still staring at the boy as if deep in thought.

"Simon?" You whisper softly, confused by the concentration on his face. He lifts his hand next to Johnny ear and loudly snaps his fingers making you jump.

"Wai-" You start not wanting him to be woken up but- Nothing.. Johnny doesn't even flinch at the rather loud snap-

The air freezes in your lungs as you watch now closely. Simon moves his hand to the other ear and does it again... No reaction at all from the sleeping baby.

Not a word was spoken at this as the crushing gravity of the situation settled on your shoulders and it felt like your heart went to your stomach..

Simon finally tearing his eyes away from his son and onto you, seeing the guilt in your gaze.. He stepped towards you, seeing the swirling emotions in your exhausted eyes-

"(Y/N)-" He started, But you shook your head and turned away crying.

The next day you'd scheduled an emergency appointment at the local pedestrians office, they just managing to for you in that day so you and Simon flew to the Doctor to have now all of the triplets checked over.

"Hm- It does indeed seem like he is indeed deaf.. Most likely due to the traumatic birth he had but we will run some more test on what kind of deafness he has" The pedestrian explained which devastated you further, Simon sighing softly as he stared down at his boy who was fussing on the table. Gently reaching a hand forward to place his palm on the newborn which settled his fussing for the time being.

"How can this be missed? He was in the hospital for a month? Don't they do hearing checks?" Simon questioned, your pediatrician sighing at this.

"Sometimes it does go unnoticed-" He said simply making Simon glare- Not liking that fucking answer clearly.

"Is there anything we can do?.. He doesnt sleep well and screams all the time, we just thought he was Colic since he only sleeps if Simon is holding him" You ask softly, That sinking guilt eating you alive as you hold Hazel to your chest and Rose slept in her car seat.

"It's actually fairly common for deaf children to have a harder time sleeping, colic is an allergy but you said he eats well and sleeps for a while after eating or if your husband holds him. He's probably just tired which is why he's crying so much" The pedestrian said calmly, Gesturing to Johnny who was now fully relaxed with Simon's hand on him.

"I'd say a swing or something with movement, or a T-Shirt with him that smells like the both of you. It sounds odd but a lot of babies do well with movement like in the womb and he can most likely feel your husband's heartbeat quite well so hes more comforble on his chest" The doctor explained- Simon narrowing his eyes wondering if the doctor just said he had a big chest without saying so-

The rest of the appointment was the doctor giving tips on how to proceed and even some papers, even a nanny service to help the new parents as well.

You and Simon left the pediatricians office in sort of a shell shock- You holding Johnny as he fussed in his car seat while Simon held the girls. The car ride back home was dead silent, but you could feel Simon glancing at you every once in a while.

Back home you and him both set the triplets up, giving them a warm bottle and changing them- Simon taking one of his shirts and laying it down for Johnny to hopefully stay asleep.

You stood there staring at the triplets, a numb feeling washing over your weathered form.

'Was this my fault?-'

'Did I not do a good job?'

'Did I neglect my children cause I was depressed?'

Terrible thoughts swirled through your mind, fear invading your brain as you worried. Simon wrapped his arms around you tightly, stopping you in your tracks and yanming you from your mind.

"(Y/N) It's not your fault- You did everything right.. He's going to be fine, he's healthy, lively and so are Hazel and Rose who are just as healthy... and you're doing a great job as a Mum" He whispered in your ear- You felt your body shake as the guilt hit your chest full force and you sobbed leaning into your husband's embrace and cried against him.

It's all you wanted to hear-

[xcherrypie]

Take me home

Summary: After finding your boyfriend with another girl, your best friend Sam is of course there to pick up all the pieces.

Words: 0.9k

It hadn’t been an easy couple of weeks for you to say the least, you and your boyfriend of a year had broke it off after you caught him cheating with a girl he worked with. It had been an emotional rollercoaster of tears and anger but tonight you hoped to put it to the back of your head and enjoy a very much needed night out with your friends.

One of those friends being Sam, your longest friend in-fact. Your mam and his mam are best friends and had been since school so it was inevitable you would both grow up together and become the bestest of friends yourselves.

What you didn’t know is that for the past couple of years Sam had started to see you differently. He’d get nervous around you, always trying to impress you and could never seem to take his eyes off you if you were around him. Then, when you started seeing lads and telling him about flings you would have he soon realised he didn’t want to be just friends anymore, but way more.

He never voiced this though, partly in fear of rejection and partly not wanting to ruin the bond you two had made over the years. So that’s how things went, years of wishing you were his.

“Are you sure about driving tonight, I’ll book us a taxi honestly” You spoke from the passenger side of Sam’s car. He’d promised to be your taxi for the night to make sure you’d have a safe way of getting home. “Yes y/n” he chuckled. “Ask me again and I’ll change me mind” you rolled your eyes at his jokey tone and playfully pushed his arm in response.

Sam pulled you into his shoulder as you walked from the car to meet your friends outside the club. “Behave yourself tonight you” Sam smiled at you, knowing because of your recent breakup your likely to be planning on drinking way into the early morning. “Me? always” you cheekily smirked back at Sam, as you pulled away to embrace your other friends into a hug.

“Y/N you look amazing” your friend Chloe beamed. “It’s the post breakup glow up” your other friend Ella chirped in. Your all soon in the club and safe to say your drowning your sorrows, making the most of random lads buying you drinks, much to Sam’s dismay. His eyes hadn’t left you all night, he was worried about you and knew how vulnerable you are at the minute. A few of the lads could tell he felt tense but when questioned, Sam just put it down to not having a drink due to driving.

Around four shots and two vodka cokes later you stumble to the bar to order another drink. “Hey, you good?” you feel a hand press against your lower back. With relief you look up to see Sam towering over you, checking in on you as always. “You know I’m acc having a great time-“ you slur, leaning closer to Sam’s ear so he can hear you over the music.

In doing this though, over Sam’s shoulder you notice your ex boyfriend Billy stood at the bar, you freeze. “Y/n what’s up?” Sam questions, turning around to see for himself. “Fuck” he mutters under his breath, and before he can suggest you both leave, your ex approach’s the two of you, clearly just as drunk as you are.

“Y/n, why haven’t you been awnsering my messages” Billy asked, grabbing your arm. You couldn’t respond, you just stood there frozen. Sam however had no intention of ignoring the man that had hurt you so badly. “Get the fuck off her” he spat, his protective side taking over. “Didn’t take you long did it” billy drunkenly smirked back at Sam. “My side of the bed was probably still warm” he continued, causing tears to fill in your eyes over how spiteful your ex boyfriend was being.

The rage took over Sam “the fuck did you just say” his hands pushing billy back to remove his grip from you. “Sam stop!” You cry, knowing Sam wouldn’t just stop at pushing him. “Please, just take me home” you continue, now sobbing. By this point your ex had already made his way through the busy club, out of sight. “I just need to go home” you mumble into Sam’s chest as he rubs your back, his eyes scanning the filled room for Billy still. “Please” you protest again looking up at him. Sam looked down at you nodding his head as he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

The car journey home was silent, you didn’t really know what to say. “You gonna be okay tonight?” Sam looks over at you, as you twiddle your thumbs. “Actually Sam do you think you could stay, I just need someone to be with me” of course Sam didn’t even hesitate to agree on your offer and had you in fluffy pjs and snuggled in a blanket as soon as you both arrived at your apartment.

He wished you two could stay like this forever, wrapped up on the sofa while he stroked your hair, sending you into a needed peaceful sleep. Light snores escaped your lips and Sam couldn’t help but smile, placing a gentle peck on top of your head, he whispered. “I love you so much y/n” hoping that one day he could say it to your face.

Notes: Heya guys! This is quite a short one so I do apologise, hope everyone is well<3

[des-fangirl]

What is your favourite Discworld novel?

Oooh that's a tough one

I love Going postal because of the vibe, Moist introduction into the world, GNU moment and some other favourite moments too..plus because it was my first discworld novel ever! It has a special place in my heart buuut not the favourite one

Making money was very fun and i liked the characters, Truth the same but it gets more points because Vimes Is Here and i love him AND THE WHOLE AFFAIR WITH VETINARI IS😭 GREAT

Watch books.... I can't even pick a favourite out of them(( i like them all but my favs are Jingo Fifth elephant & Night watch ig. Thud would've been included too but i feel like if i say that my favs are more than 3 books out of 8 in total that would be..too much (but well what am i to do if they are just this great??)

But uhh the answer is probably Monstrous Regiment! It made me feel lots of things, was a rollercoaster AND a detective story (of some kind) because ohhh who's a girl secretly and who isn't? Ohh who helped Polly in the beginning?? Ohhh what will happen next how are these little lads gonna literally get into a fortress...the ending really left me with such strong emotions. The whole book felt so long like a good long journey, and even though i had trouble remembering who is who out of the gang (ESPECIALLY AFTER I FOUND OUT THEIR NAMES IN ENGLISH... IT'S EVEN HARDER NOW((), i still got attached to them! And even made some hcs in my head! Love this book

[knownangels]

jealousy (october prompt)

Benji has always imagined himself a fly on the wall of most conversations. Present, but not in. And still he found them difficult to parse. As if everyone had gotten the script, but Benji showed up one day to be assigned ad-lib improv.

(Fuck if he knew the only reason certain social activities like improv comedy were real activities people did together. Make shit up on the spot to try and get a laugh? He’d rather be hung, frankly. Improv comedy. Pickleball. Microbreweries. Lunch espressos at a co-operative community work space? Things to do because Grace by the cooler said they were fun?)

Asking why, none of those things sound fun at all, would only draw accusations of impoliteness or poor social skills or something worse.

But Benji was really just curious. He wanted to know. Be in on the thing everyone else was, if not to do but just understand. Why this, why that?

He preferred to be the fly, really.

If he got into the weeds, he’d just muck it up per usual. He was prone to misreading a situation; uncomfortably misreading an expression for humored when really it meant, annoyed and following social decorum to not show it. He was prone to, when faced with heavy emotion, ask: wait, are you really angry? are you just joking, or are you really sad?

And of course they were. He just hadn’t been paying enough attention from his spot on the wall.

*

Benji pays attention now. Now, in the brisk early spring, off on a post-bar food run with the rest of the regular miscreants.

He hangs back, to watch. Maran and Xavier walk shoulder to shoulder, arms around necks and heads tilted in the way they do while whispering. Except the two of them gossip loud; voices and laughter rocketing into the night air. They’ve both got the sort of accents that jump. Together, their whooping and laughing remind Benji of a rollercoaster.

To Maran’s right, Lark strolls several paces ahead of the rest. He’s graceful about dodging things on the sidewalk (or the two swaying boys) while texting. Lark’s decent at multitasking, but best when something like texting Matilda was involved.

And Benny, on the far left: he lopes smoothly next to Xavier. He’s just about the only one of them that can properly keep up with the redhead — or cares to try.

When Maran briefly trips, stumbling behind their little chorus line, it’s Benny who loops a finger in the back loop of his jeans and keeps him just-barely upright. Xavier, whose cheeks are blotchy with a few drinks and the cool air, assumes Benny drapes near him for a hug. The four of the nearly go to the pavement in the ensuing tangle of limbs cut from their rhythm.

And Benji sighs, although he feels like laughing. He could spend all night like this: warmed, watching.

“Watch it.” Benji drawls. He sidesteps to narrowly avoid becoming a crash victim. “First day with legs then, lads?”

“Fuck your mum!” Maran pops back first (of course), with genuine cheer. He rights himself, his cheeks also pink despite the fact that he’s got more general color than Xavier. Almost like he’s blushing.

Benji’s eyes snap from his wide grin down — Benny’s still keeping him upright, or using that as an excuse, with a hand on the small of his back.

In what seems like a covert aside only they’re privy to, Benny and Benji lock eyes. Benji raises an eyebrow. Benny sheepishly looks away, but keeps his hand in place.

Benji swears he spots a smirk. His eyes narrow.

“Mar?”

“Yeeeees?”

“Didya know Benny’s birthday was a week or so ago?”

Maran whirls to look at Benny. His expression makes the rest of them laugh in unison.

“No it wasn’t.” He twists again: Benji. “You’re havin’ one.”

“Swear.”

“On your mum or you’ve reached the top of my list, mate, I am properly serious here.”

(Lark blinks, leans towards Xavier. “Sorry, what the fuck are they saying?”

Xavier shakes his head with absent sort of smile. “I don’t know. I’m still learning.”)

Their caravan has stopped moving now. They pause in a half circle with Benny positioned in, what Benji evilly assumes, must be an uncomfortable center.

“I swear, Mar. Ask him.”

Maran does immediately.

Benny’s frosty stare pings between the lot of them and then settles into the night sky. “Jesus, yes. I’m — I’m over the hill as of —“

“No!” Maran wails dramatically. He shakes Benny by the lapels of his ugly Hawaiian shirt. “We weren’t fuckin’ friends two weeks ago!” He kicks and sighs and scuffs his shoe. Benji isn’t sure if it’s genuine or put-on, that show, and loves him all the more for it.

“And here I am, got you fuck-all.”

“It’s okay,” Benji assures to pull them all back on track to his petty revenge. He holds Benny’s eye. “Benson here got nice of lovely gifts. What was your favorite, hey?”

Benny stiffens. He’s quick: he can see where Benji might be moving his chess pieces, and does not fucking like the outcome.

“Um. Actually my a-a-aunt sent me a pair of really nice house slippers—“

“Oh, really?” Benji quirks an eyebrow. “Because.”

Benny lifts both his: please don’t.

“I thought.”

Benny’s nose wrinkles: brace for impact.

“You seemed pretty fond of that DVD set that girl from your O-chem class sent along.”

Nobody else is paying attention to what Maran’s face is doing, except Benji. It goes through quite the same series of expressions. Except unlike Benny, who looks devastatingly embarrassed as Xavier and Lark ooooooh! boyishly at him, Maran looks.

Well.

Maran looks jealous.

“Oh nice.” Maran says. To Benji, it sounds thinner than usual. And not really at all curious when he asks: “What series was it?”

Benny, not looking at him but Benji, grits his teeth. “X-Files.”

Benji whistles. “His favorite.”

“Is it really?” Are the words that leave Maran’s mouth, but what Benji hears him ask is: and she knew that?

“Original packaging too, wasn’t it Ben? Vintage find online?”

Maran’s head whips; Benji and the nickname, Benny and his splutter.

“Wow.” Maran says dully. “Original packaging. Vintage.”

Benji laughs. “Yeah, should seen the number of hearts over i‘s and shit on that cute little birthday card.”

“No way,” Lark interrupts. “That you’re that much of a loser and still getting love notes.”

Benny spins in an awkward circle, making a cartier of faces at first Maran, then Lark, then Benji. He points at the latter, eyes flashing.

Benji smiles back.

“That’s really sweet.” Xavier sniffles.

They all turn to look at him, flummoxed by the emotion in his voice. He wipes a hand under a wet cheek; Benji’s heart lurches painfully in his chest.

“Xavier, buddy?”

Xavier takes Maran’s offered hand, his attention pulled from Benny’s crush and the hurdles his brain must be leaping to rationalize those feelings.

“I’m okay.” He sniffles again, convincing no one.

“Are you?” Lark pats him awkwardly. “You look like you’re gonna puke, dude.”

Maran wiggles back a step or two, clearly unimpressed by the prospect of having sick splatter his trainers.

“Yeah, mate. You sure…?”

“It’s just really sweet. It’s really romantic, and nobody does that anymore. It’s all apps and stuff and bot-slash-never-verse and pay for a few swipes left and, and — nobody wants to hold hands anymore and—“

Xavier leans over and retches.

“Oh!” Maran yelps. He tries to balance rubbing Xavier’s back and standing a safe distance away. “Oh shit, mate. You usually put it away.”

“I think I forgot to eat.” Xavier announces. He stumbles woozily into Benji, who can do nothing but move instinctually. Catch, hold upright. He covertly checks Xavier’s pulse as he slips a long, gangly arm around his own shoulders.

“Alright, someone’s clocked out. You all go on, we’ll take up the rear. Bit of a walk left, Xavier. Have you got it?”

Eyes blearily clouded, Xavier offers a wobbled smile. “Yeah, totally. I can like, maybe walk a whole two miles still for sure. I go to the gym every morning.”

“Oh. ‘Grats then.”

He did not need that mental image. It must show on his face because Benny’s suddenly looks victorious.

As he leads Maran and Lark forward, Benny holds back an arms length to two-finger point his own eyes, then Benji.

“Watch your back.” He hisses. “I’ll get you, bitch.”

And with the way he observes Xavier’s slumped lean into Benji, his face tucked into the top of his head, Benji has no doubt he’ll make good on that threat.

It’s why he preferred being a fly on the wall —once he got himself into it, involved? Well. That was no fucking good.

[optimistredsox]

20 July, BOS @ LAD, 6-7, loss, 11th inning

Well, as much as Friday’s game sucked pond water, Saturday’s game seemed to find a bigger pond of water and sucked way more of it. Coming from behind to get the lead, blowing the lead in the ninth, losing in extras, breaking hearts left, right and centre… it was the bad sort of baseball rollercoaster. Especially with Jansen blowing the save. He’s been so good. And I know I say bullpens are good until they aren’t, but it seems Friday and Saturday were the evenings of bullpen attrition reminders. And it sucks it was against the Dodgers, who are so good and who we could have beat BOTH NIGHTS. But we didn’t. We lost both nights. And I sort of hate everyone because of that. Well, at least until I remember the bright sides.

Bello was solid, continuing to come back from his precipice. He went six and gave up three runs on five hits, striking out seven and walking one. I’ll take that against the behemoth of the NL west every day of the week and twice on Sundays. Wish we’d got him the win.

Jarren Duran was 2-for-3 with 2 RBIs, 2 runs scored and two walks. I think pitchers are starting to get it. He’s good and can ride the fuck out of a sandworm.

Tyler O’Neill must’ve thought he was back in Canada because he hit two dingers, driving in four runs and scoring twice.

Ceddanne Rafaela didn’t strike out, stole a base (kid is quick), went 2-for-4, scored a run and took a walk.

Booser and Winckowski might’ve induced a few heart attacks but they kept the Dodgers off the board in the seventh and eighth. Good job.

Neither of those two games were the Dodgers beating us senseless. It was them beating us by the skin of their teeth (go-ahead grand slams could just as easliy be hope crushing double plays…). We’re good. We belong here and hopefully we’ll beat them senseless tonight.

[starfolk7]

1 for Lies of P and your other fandoms (how yould you forget Pino and friends? xD)

Omg you're right I blanked and forgot to list that in the tags MY BAD JFHDHD

1. List 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

I guess I'm gonna organize these by fandom lol

Pokemon:

- Diversity! Since it's been around for so long, there's tons of fics to read. If you can think of it, someone has probably written it. There's a Mewtwo fic I found in college that's basically a retelling of the events of the first movie, but holy shit it's written so beautifully it made me cry in front of my friends rjrhdgde. It's a dense read, but still one of my absolute favorite fics to this day. That's just an example of things you can find!

- Sub-fan bases. Basically, if you're a big fan of a certain Pokémon, a type of Pokémon, one of the games, etc., you're going to find your people very easily. Kind of falls under the first one a bit but ya know lol.

- Some of the cutest and also the most badass fanart comes out of this fandom. I have both art of a Sylveon with a lollipop and art of Mewtwo breaking out of their armor from the first movie. The duality of man djrhdgs

SoulsBorne

-Maybe I've gotten lucky and just found really nice people, but so far my experiences in the community have been largely positive! I've met some of the loveliest people by posting my Dark Souls and Bloodborne fics, and it really got me back into writing OCs again (you know that's my lifeblood lol)

-Character and lore analyses. Not that I agree with all of them, of course I don't, but if you want an analyses of anything in these games, there's some mad lad out there that's done it, whether it's a post or through an entire fic. Gives you tons to think about!

-ART!! Holy shit there's so many amazing artists in this community. We don't talk about how much SoulsBorne art I've snagged at conventions (I got more of it and Elden Ring stuff at Magfest don't look at me fjfhdhd)

Lies of P

-I haven't been in this fandom for long, but so far everyone I've met has been very sweet! They're also super OC-friendly. I can't tell you how many Stalker and Puppet OCs I've seen, among others, it's really amazing!

-Probably gonna say this for all of my fandoms but the ART OMG. There's so much gorgeous fanart floating around for this game it's insane. Still on the hunt for more Romeo pieces tho rjrhehe

-Headcanon diversity. Do you want a totally mute P? One that talks sometimes? One that's Had Enough? What I'm getting at is there's a P out there for everyone! People have been exploring all the different character angles on him and it's wonderful to see.

Ultrakill

-THE HYPE. Since this is an early access game still in development, the hype that cranks up every time an update is announced is INSANE. I don't think I've ever seen this level of it for an indie game. I got in just in time to witness this for the Violence update and the rush it gives you seeing everyone so excited is amazing!! It helps that every single update has just been an absolute banger. We have reason to be super excited, the devs do stellar work!!

-LORE. Do you wanna feel like Charlie at the corkboard in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia? Because that's where I'm definitely at right now. Since we're in the last act of the game, there's so much speculation and so many theories about how the game will end. On top of that, people have been playing in the lore sandbox ever since this game started. I know I've def been up at night wondering how the hierarchy of Heaven works and what certain layers of Hell were like before Certain Events TM (I'm being vague because I know at least one person wants to play this bear with me lol). Basically there's tons to explore and the community collectively goes insane about different bits, we have fun here lmao

-I'm bundling art and memes into this one because oh my GOD. The tonal whiplash is a rollercoaster ride. You can go from the most heart-wrenching art of Gabriel you've ever seen to a piece that goes "V1 is a shrimp now" and sometimes you just need that snap back to some levity. The memes are absolutely top-tier. It helps that the voice actor for Gabriel already does memes and shitposts on his YouTube channel, so he just carries that over for Ultrakill stuff sometimes and y'know what? This game is dark, I'm gonna need these memes for when the ending makes me bawl like a baby. The Violence layer already has me feeling the creeping sense of dread (if you know you KNOW).

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 2: In Which I am A Rollercoaster Made of Flesh

I awoke today in the genuinely very comfortable confines of my Lisbonese room, well rested and raring to go. I know. I was confused, too.

Of the many vagrant resolutions I seem to have silently made whilst on this trip, the final and possibly most key to my enjoyment was to not get too bogged down in admin. Quite often I would find myself on previous journeys, sitting cross-legged under a blanket, refusing to leave my apartment until the day's blog entry had been completed and uploaded, which would often take deep into the afternoon, owing to my perfectionism and penchant for being easily distracted by video games or interesting patches of wall. Not so, this time, however! I had decided, I would put a pause on whatever writing or doodling I was in the middle of at exactly 10:30am, go out for an adventure and then return to finish it later, much less alert and capable of doing so, in the evening.

And so, I found myself somehow, by some miracle, putting down my laptop at ...11:15am – Obviously there's going to be an adjustment period to these things – in order to go outside and have a big, nice look around for this expensive holiday that I paid for. What a brave soul I am.

First though, I would need breakfast. All I had available to me was the remnants of last night's dinner which, as unpleasant as they were, then, had become even less appetising, having been left to congeal overnight. So that's what I ate. Nearly 24 hours later, I still feel quite sick from it. I never claimed to make good choices.

With my guts screeching in protest at being fed pickles and garlic at eleven in the morning, I left, desperately hoping that I wouldn't immediately shit myself, the moment I stepped outside. Which I didn't. Champion.

My day was to consist of fairly standard vagrant fare; a big walk up a hill and around the city followed by a flurry of weird museums. Lovely stuff.

I began my day with a walk up to the nearby Senhora Do Monte viewpoint to have a good old gawk at the city from above, imagining I was a friendly kestrel on the look-out for a Portuguese boy to befriend. The path to the viewpoint was – shockingly – all uphill, which while not what I explicitly needed first thing in the morning, full to bursting with pickle, wasn't too arduous. The incline woun sedately around the city, bringing me ever higher as I went. “This is easy” I thought to myself, positively hooting with derisive laughter inside my own head and once out-loud, startling a passing woman. Confident and strong, I then rounded a corner and...

...Ah come on now, lads.

Right. Fine. To be expected. I clambered much more slowly and with much greater difficulty than I had expected up all the steps and was duly greeted with what I would have to say was a pretty okay view.

...Yeah. Alright.

After a couple of pictures, however, I had had my fill. The view was pretty good, but the entire area was bustling with tourists all holding their phones in portrait mode to take a picture of what was demonstrably a landscape and a potent mix of tat-peddlers and panhandlers trying to sell my copper bracelets or just get some of my money because they wanted it, respectively. What is this, Ryanair? Get fucked, O'Leary.

My cat-like instinct to clamber to the highest point I can find, then yowl at passersby to help me down only half sated, I hobbled down from the first viewpoint and then back up to another one that I had spotted from the first. It was less thick with tat-mongers, but also much less good, so I left quickly, once more. I had considered chaining a big walk together, going from viewpoint to the next visible viewpoint – the city being positively littered with them. Everything here is up or down some giant fucking hill – though in the end realised that that was a stupid and bad plan and my time would be better spent going up and down hills with a purpose, even if that purpose was to gawp at badly taxidermied stoats, so I directed myself towards the Natural History Museum and pressed on.

Uncharacteristic of me, once more, I realised on my walk that I actually really like Lisbon. It's a very intuitive and varied city and I haven't been left baffled or bored once, during my stay. Exhausted, yes – its been built on a series of massive hills – but it's very engaging and bright and modern, with just the tiniest hint of squalor, lurking around the odd corner to keep it spicy. It is a really nice place to ease myself into vagrancy, as opposed to some of the other destinations I've travelled to, which were, to put it succinctly, effing horrible.

To this end, I arrived at my first museum of the day: the terrifyingly named “Doll's Hospital”. The image that google had used to advertise the Doll's Hospital was a spooky looking shot of drawers and drawers full of miscellaneous, old, broken doll parts; tiny disembodied plastic hands, grasping at nothing and eyeless skulls staring into your very soul. Very much my vibe – eyes are overrated. I was disappointed to find, however, that upon arrival, not only was it, in reality, just quite a nice, twee little museum dedicated to the sincere repair of old dolls but it was also closed for lunch and would be for another hour and a half, so I discretely put the idea in the bin and moved on.

I walked for a further fucking ages and eventually found myself outside of the Natural History Museum. Or, more accurately, outside the giant, imposing, very closed doors of the natural history museum. Remembering my vow to not be intimidated by giant closed doors, I approached them with a swagger, placed a hand confidently on the glass and – oh, nope. Yep. This is actually, properly closed. Good. Not wishing to have binned the first two stops of the day (three, if you count the botanical gardens, attached to the Natural History Museum, to which admission is tied, which I won't in order to save my own feelings), I walked the perimeter of the museum. Definitely no alternative entry way; that bitch was closed. With both google and the museum's website insisting that it was open as fuck, I had a quick, further search and realised that the first of December is a big national holiday to do with Portuguese independence, which was likely the reason for the unannounced closure. Which, y'know. Fine. It would have been really nice to have known that, though. I could have made use of the city aquarium's final day of “happy week” prices, instead. You owe me a penguin, Lisbon.

The moment that I resigned myself to not getting in, the heavens opened and a flash downpour hit me, hard and fast, like a train made of water, so I decided to scoot quickly and moistly back down the massive hill which I had just climbed to go to the final of the three museums I had planned for that day, fingers crossed until they chafed that it would actually be open.

I arrived at my destination fucking ages later and stood before the wide open, welcoming doors of the city's puppet museum. That was more like it. I paused my podcast, reluctantly, stepped inside, paid five human euros worth of money and I was in. In the puppet museum. Alone. Ahhh!

The museum was fairly spooky and definitely went some way to scratch the itching sore which the Doll Hospital had left thrumming in my soul

It's like a balm.

though the museum wasn't exactly gigantic and a lot of the explanations and descriptions of the spooky little wooden fucks I found quite dry and lacking in excitement. Still, I suppose something like the puppet museum is more of a visual endeavour, anyway, and I took loads of pictures and had a generally, pretty nice time.

Like this little feller

And this'n too!

The scariest part of the experience, however, came when I reached the end of the exhibit and found myself presented with this exit

Ahh!

Despite every fibre in my body screaming “that's going to activate a fire alarm and you're going to get in trouble”, I decided to trust google translate and push down with both hands on the bar. The fire alarm didn't sound. I'm going to start pushing every security door I see open, now. I've gone mad with power.

The door papped me out into a confusing courtyard with nary a WC, cafe or giftshop in sight. Some men were doing work in it too and looked at me when I came out, so I just pretended to be interested in looking at stuff which definitely wasn't part of the exhibition, until I surreptitiously found my way out, absolutely seamlessly and realistically, they couldn't prove otherwise.

I enjoyed my time at the Puppet Museum, though it unsurprisingly hadn't eaten up a lot of today's time. I had also saved several hours by going to neither of the other museums I had visited throughout the day. Subsequently, I decided, now being bereft of solid plans, to just have a ruddy good walk around the city. Take in the landmarks, see the sights, almost certainly get pickpocketed. You know. Classic tourist stuff.

To this end, I walked up a bunch of hills, then down a bunch of hills, then up more hills and pretty much continued this cycle until I had seen the Santa Justa lift

Neat!

The arch of Augusta

Neat...

Lisbon Cathedral

...Neat...

and my feet had been worn down to sharp little bone needles scraping noisily along the ground with every step. I had planned to walk along the banks of the Tagus and loop around to the north of my hostel on my way home, but I quickly realised that all I was really doing by that point was walking about fifty meters away from the water, my view obscured largely by industrial dockland, and so I discretely put that idea in the bin, too. My headphones had also run out of charge by that point and my feet hurt, so I felt entirely justified in scrapping the last part of my day as well as the first.

I pushed on with the final leg of the journey home, up – yes – another massive hill; this one even massivier than the rest, stopping only at a really lovely, well stocked and pleasantly operated supermarket a literal minute's walk from my apartment on the way. I can't believe I ate hot-dog and pickle wraps last night. And this morning. Fuck.

And with that I returned home. My pedometer read close to 25,000 steps and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, so I was, of course, ruined. I napped, worked on the blog, had a still cold microwavable dinner, the instructions to which I didn't understand and the fixing of which requiring energy I didn't have before ensconcing myself in just the warmest duvet I have ever sat under for a bibble and a doodle. Not euphemisms.

[neviluvie]

To my Ahron

- hello bubby, if you are reading this then probably, we are celebrating our 20th month as a couple. i am beyond happy to celebrate another chapter with you and it is so full filling that the fact we made this so far. since we are about to reach our 2nd anniversary together, i want to write down some sentimental stuff that i want to share with you since the course of the timescale. i hope you'll read each of this passages as i made this so automatically romantic for you.

"i'm your boy and i will always be forever,

you're my world, and we'll always be together*

- NEIL

4 Things I love about Ahron Asuncion Libed 💚🍃

1. He always makes me genuine feel happy and loved.

- among all the boys i have dated before, he is the only one who never failed to put a smile on my face. he always do his best to make me feel like i deserve to be happy and feel the essence of joy by being in a relationship with him. he blows out his best efforts to satisfy me and put up a curve on my face by making lame dad jokes, corny punch lines and his sarcasm. without him, life is plain and boring for me. i just wanna thank him for being there to help me burst out a baffle during my dogdays. he may see me as his sunshine but he is my serotonin. my happiness, my joy.

2. He always makes me feel comfortable with my own skin.

- never i met any other young lad in my entire existence who is very vocal about their admiration other than ahron. he makes me feel valid and somehow stoked to perfection by his compliments and constant adoration towards me. i love a man who is not too skimpy about being openly proud and pleasured to have me as their partner and ahron has successfully showcased that as my boyfriend. i am so down for his realness and his loyalty towards me. he built my heart to embrace my flaws, the body that i have, the sexuality that i have, the personality that i have and the individual i am today. I don't know a better man than my lover, ahron.

3. He strives his best to become a better man for me

- one of the best quality traits a man should showcase is being resilient and proactively showing how eager he wants the relationship to work by making adjustments and changing their ways. ahron has shown so much love by being a stubborn kid turned into a matured boyfriend. although there are still a lot of things to expect and correct, there are matters that tells that this boy is so precious to lose for. he is willing to change and take commands for a much better relationship.

4. He made my life more beautiful and personalized.

- one thing is for sure, i love this man. i love his looks, his passion, his integrity, his body, his relatability and his commitment to this relationship. ever since he stepped into my life, it was never been the same lame thing. it was indeed a rollercoaster of emotions and i am beyond enchanted to share tears, laughters, and sex with this man. he was the one who clipped into our earthly desires and horny demeanors. he was the one who made me realize that it is not impossible to have a beautiful relationship even there are subtle theories of rose colored glasses. i couldn't wish for another boy in my life because i am pretty much sure that i want to marry this man and spend my whole life with him. forever and always, my ahron owns my heart.

[frontproofmedia]

WARRINGTON VS. LOPEZ + UNDERCARD PRESS CONFERENCE QUOTES

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Published: December 08, 2022

Eddie Hearn, Matchroom Sport Chairman: “Good afternoon everyone and welcome to Leeds. After a rollercoaster year of Taylor-Serrano at Madison Square Garden, Leigh Wood against Michael Conlan one of the fights of the year, Canelo against Bivol, Canelo against GGG, AJ against Usyk, last week Chocolatito against Estrada – all around the world, it ends on Saturday night in Leeds with an unbelievable night of boxing. Josh Warrington, the IBF Featherweight World Champion, makes his mandatory defence against Luis Alberto Lopez. It’s a World Championship double-header – all-Australian female fight on the card as well, a tremendous fight for the IBF Bantamweight World Title – Ebanie Bridges against Shannon O’Connell. So much more to come. This is a night with a difference, not only is it the elite atmosphere of the Leeds faithful, but it’s England vs. France. We’re kicking off around 2pm in the arena on Before The Bell. 7pm we break for England vs. France, and then 9pm we kickstart again with Felix Cash, Ebanie Bridges and Josh Warrington. This is going to be a wild day of sporting drama. We cannot wait.” Josh Warrington: “It’s a very tough fight. Before we get going, I’d like to say thank you for the appreciation from the boys at the front – it’s nice to get a thank you for the opportunities that they’re getting. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do – put Leeds boxing on the map and give these younger fighters opportunities. So I do appreciate that lads. Moving onto Luis, he’s full on confidence isn’t he. He’s like a kid on whizz walking around like Ric Flair. He’s going to be full of confidence. He’s blasted out a few guys over in the States and in Mexico but I’m not them guys. "I’ve been in this position all throughout my career. I wasn’t meant to get this position. I wasn’t meant to win a European Title, I wasn’t meant to get a World Title. I’ve always been an underdog. Any fight at this level is always going to be a hard fight because he’s got himself into mandatory position. He’s beaten some decent guys along the way but I just don’t think he’s mixed in the same level that I’ve been in with. He’s certainly not had a fight like me. "He’s coming into the Lion’s Den. They can’t be in the ring with me, but it’s a f***ing hell of an atmosphere! I feed off that energy. Once I walk out into that arena I’m a man possessed and do what I have to do to keep hold of that belt. I’ve been around haven’t I. A lot of these young fighters are going to be full of confidence. They’re going to be excited. I think they forget, sometimes my name doesn’t get the respect it deserves. I’m not asking for it but I’ve been in with challengers all throughout my career. I’ve just got to concentrate on what I do best and I believe it will be enough to get me a win on Saturday night.” Luis Alberto Lopez: “Thanks for the opportunity. It’s great to be here once again, and this time to be facing a champion. I always come here as a warrior for war and I won’t be going home without that World Title. I come full of capabilities, full of confidence in my preparation. I come to do what I always do, turn fights on their head and beat opponents when I’m not expected to do so. I’ll be winning this title. I’m coming for the knockout, that’s what I’ve come for. He shouldn’t believe what he sees on the videos. I’m a completely different proposition when I’m in the ring and that’s what I’m coming to do, I’m coming to win.” Ebanie Bridges: “Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can never hurt you. She can say whatever she wants. I’ve been hearing it for years. It’s boring. It just bored me to be honest. All that matters is what happens in the ring on Saturday night. That’s when she’ll find out how serious I take this sport. I think Shannon O’Connell is my hardest fight and I’m taking it very seriously. I’m not underestimating her at all. I know that she’s a great fighter and I know that she’s going to come and bring it. She wants it. I’ve done everything that I need to do in the gym with Mark and Jimmy. I’m very confident in my skills, my mind and what I can do. I just know that belt is going to stay with me and it’s my destiny to continue to be a World Champion. I have faith in myself and in my team.” Shannon O'Connell: “I’m really happy that we’re finally here. It’s been a long time coming, a lot of dodging and trying to get around the fight but we’re here now and there’s no hiding. I don’t have a fake bone in my body. Everything I’ve said I’ve meant. Everyone you see on TV, do you like them? You don’t have to like everyone that you’ve met. She’s making herself a public figure and she’s putting herself out there to be judged. That’s just what happens. I’ve got morals. 100%, I’ve got everything it takes to become World Champion. She’s got nothing over me.” Felix Cash: “It’s been a long time coming so let’s hope that Saturday night actually happens this time. I’ll go in there on Saturday, get the ringrust off and then we’re going to have some big fights in 2023. I’ll get my hands on a World Title. It was tough to be honest with you – at one stage I was like, ‘f***k this’. I stayed in the gym and stayed focused and we’ve got out again before the year is over. We’ll make up for lost time next year by getting some big fights. I’ve got a job to do on Saturday night, I’ll get Neves out of the way and then we’ll get some big fights. Ammo Williams wants it. He’s got a big mouth. I’ll happily shut it for him.” James Metcalf: “I’m not overlooking him at all. We’ve seen he’s just come off a good win. He’s travelled all the way over and he sounds very confident but I’m confident as well. I believe I’m going to win and that belt is not going anywhere. I’m not taking my eye off the ball. I’m not going to overlook him. I’ve taken the fight very seriously. Everything that has been asked of me I’ve done. I’m just looking forward to the fight now.” Courtney Pennington: “I want to thank you for inviting me here – DAZN Boxing, Matchroom and especially JJ for taking this fight, because he didn’t have to. Thank you to my team for getting me here. Trust me, I’ve got it from here. I plan on taking this show over. This fight is going to be like a main event, with Josh Warrington and Luis Alberto Lopez as my undercard. I’m going to show you guys that I’m not going home without that strap. They have no idea. I’m one of the best Junior Middleweights in the world. I will show that come Saturday night. They don’t know that yet, but we’ve got two days guys.” Shannon Courtenay: “Obviously I’ve had a year out due to having quite a big injury – two operations. At one point I was told I’d never box again. To be back on the big stage straight away – I’m buzzing and I feel like I’m home to be honest. I’m not going to be ignorant and talk about World Titles just yet because I’ve got to get through Saturday and Gemma Ruegg is a good fighter. I know for a fact that 2023 is going to be a very big year for me and I’m just going to keep myself to myself. Let’s just get Saturday out of the way. I think it’s going to be an explosive fight. The styles will gel, just like mine and Ebanie’s did. It’ll be very explosive from start to finish. I don’t mind who wins. In an ideal world I’d get my WBA World Title back, Ebanie has her World Title and then we’d unify in another massive fight and a big pay day for the both of us. The first fight was a great fight and the second one would be even bigger. Let’s just see what Saturday brings first.”   Hopey Price: “It’s the final box to tick before a big 2023. I think this is my last 8 rounder. I’m looking to put on another statement performance on Saturday night and then I’m coming for all of the titles in the Super-Bantamweight division in 2023. I wanted to be boxing for a title this time but obviously we had a bit of activity and whatever else. Get this one out of the way and the in 2023 I’m definitely coming for those belts. I think I’m the best Super-Bantamweight in Britain – 100%. Josh has paved the way for us in Leeds. When he goes, who’s next? I believe it’s me. I believe I’m the next one to carry the flag for boxing in Leeds.” Junaid Bostan: "I’m delighted to be back finishing the year on a high. I’ve had four fights this year, and ideally I’d like to get a stoppage so it’s four out of four. That would be happy days. I’m ready to put on a clinical fan friendly performance. As much as I’m learning in the ring professionally, I’m learning just as much in the camps. I’ve been sparring Avanesyan, Troy Williamson, did a few rounds with Pat (McCormack) and Mark (Dickinson) the other week. I’m learning as I go. I’m delighted. I’m only 20 and with how I’ve been performing in the gym and in the ring I think I’m one of the best, if not the best, prospects you’ve got at the moment.” Rhiannon Dixon: “I’m just trying to get as much experience as I can in the ring and I’m just really looking forward to putting a performance on on Saturday. I’m just really enjoying keeping active. Obviously I had an injury at the start of this year so I was a bit inactive but I’m just looking forward to keeping active.” Cory O'Regan: “I was fortunate enough to be on in March as well when Josh won his World Title back. The experience is what you’d imagine – it’s the best stage to be on. I’m just proud to be a part of it again. I’m looking forward to putting another great performance on as well.” Koby McNamara: “I can’t wait for it. I’ve done over 500 tickets for Saturday so I’m looking forward to putting a good performance on. I can’t wait.”

(Featured Photo: Mark Robinson/Matchroom Boxing)

[two-red-lungs]

I haven't watched lost boys in 100 years but as a kid I had dreams about Alex winters character and his beautiful hair. Do you have any headcanons for him?

I LITERALLY HAVE SO MANY MARKO HEADCANONS YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW OKAY LISTEN HERE THEY ARE

TLB Marko Headcanons (SFW):

Just like all the other gang members, he's a psychopathic adrenaline junkie with impulse issues but that surprises literally nobody

WAY more feral/animalistic than his blood-brothers. He'll bite people even when he doesn't need to feed. He just likes doing it for funsies and to see their reaction and fear/upset

Loves to catch/control things. People for hunting, but animals for fun

By this mean I mean he literally GRABS pigeons and crows and rats just to watch them squirm before letting them go. One time he caught an owl and ran into the lobby with this great big flapping nightmare in his hands, scratching the shit out of him, to show it off

The boys enjoy a good hunt. But Marko and Dwayne extra enjoy it. Like, too much

He cackles. Over everything. This isn't a man this is a hyena

For such a defensive, quick-to-anger, competitive, fucked-up little guy, he has a surprisingly dependable and amical relationship w/ Paul. Like, they are best best friends. If push comes to shove it's them against the world

He's Italian. I'll fucking DIE on this hill. A bit of a brat, and a beauty, always used to getting what he wants? This dude was a highly sought-after High Renaissance model in Florence (esp. considering the beauty standard in art at that time was youthful athleticism)

CAN and WILL cuss you out in Italian like a little blonde mobster, even while he's getting hauled away by Paul for Starting Shit

Short fuse. Bad temper. Again, brat.

He won't stop putting stuff in his mouth. Remember the biting thing? It doesn't just extend to people who annoy him. He'll bite on coins, the hems of his gloves, his nails. Bottlecaps and chopsticks, too

Is similar to Paul in the sense that he's gross. Real nasty man. He dropped a piece of orange chicken on the sandy boardwalk? Oh yeah. That's getting eating 100%

Marko comes off as the most overtly inhuman. In the animalistic way he moves, his little feral grins, the way he very obviously eyes people up. His aura is... weird. It's good that the other boys are there honestly bc alone he'd creep people out

That jacket is literally the prized piece of his collection. It reeks and he wears it every night: he's been adding shit onto it since he got it in the 50s, and by "adding shit" I mean "asking Dwayne to do it" because he's shit with a needle

His favorite places on the boardwalk itself: The arcade w/ Paul, the rollercoaster (he likes to stare at the people in front of him and make them uneasy), and the crowded beach (he roams between the bonfires, flirting and being a menacing little shit in equal portions)

Enjoys being a center of focus/attention, but often doesn't get to do it because he's part of a pack now, and David leads

Speaking of David, if anyone else told him to do something??? Marko would be like "literally fucking bite me, I'm not doing that" but if David tells him to jump he'll say "how high?"

I think he views David as the reason why he has brotherhood (and also looks up to the collected, dark, casual aura David has because he's got such a short fuse himself)

Real talk??? Genuinely??? Probably the vampire you would LEAST want to run into alone. You'd die. Probably with the others, too, but with him there is zero chance to negotiate. He will not listen.

If he has a target, he hunts it, and nothing you can say will change his mind.

I hope these resonate with you guys, I think about Marko all the time (✿◠‿◠) he is a terrible little lad. If anyone wants headcanons for the other boys lemme know and I'll write them!

[finelinevogue]

Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.

Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.

Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.

Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.

Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.

Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.

Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.

Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 

Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.

It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.

Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.

The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.

Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 

I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.

Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.

Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?

Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.

It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.

John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.

The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.

I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.

I am in disbelief.

Your voice.

Dr. Kreizler

How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 

[movnts]

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞

[mason mount fluff]

inspo from the beautiful @pettypartypooper: broke up years ago and both moved away, lost touch. now our friends each suggested a blind date and shit, you’re my date apparently

"this is the worst idea you've ever had," you grumbled as the taxi pulled up outside of your local italian restaurant, the soft amber hue from candlelight illuminating the concrete pavement outside. your best friend, grace, would simply shoot you an evil smirk as she clambered out of the passenger seat, pressing a twenty pound note into the taxi driver's palms before expressing her apologies for her best friend's grumbling all journey.

dating had never really been your scene. through mainly failed relationships and losing touch with those who you considered forever's you'd eventually given up on ever finding 'the one'. instead you wanted to enjoy your life; go out whenever you liked, party as hard as you wanted to and not have your mind one step behind because of a man. granted, there were night's when you wanted nothing more than to just curl into the side of someone but you couldn't bring yourself to trading your freedom for the occasional cuddle when night's were colder than you liked.

and without you knowing grace had arranged a blind date for the both of you, chatting your ear off whilst you'd gotten ready as she's rambled and rambled about how she hopes they're both as fit as they sounded, her eyebrows wiggling whenever it was brought up. you weren't exactly thrilled with her devious plan, a fair few curse words exchanged as she'd told you the night before over a cheap bottle of wine, hiding behind one of your cushions as you'd threatened to swirl your glass over her. you didn't want a relationship right now - especially with someone who you'd never seen, let alone met before.

the restaurant had a steady buzz of conversation: couple's going through a rocky part sobbing over their starters, newly promoted employees ordering another round of house champagne as they're erupt into a loud but respectful cheer. it was the kind of place that offered a sense of security, a place that felt like home.

"we don't even know who we're looking for!" you hissed, not wanting to draw too much attention to you both as she circled the tables. her eyes would be darting from person to person, a guessing game inside of her head as to whether it was the people we were meant to be meeting. your vision would follow hers as she pointed out a table stuffed in the corner, tucked away from the gentle hustle and bustle of the other customers - two lads sitting next to each other, their thought's worlds away as their fingers scrolled through their phones, obviously finding their interest in whatever was pixelated across their screens.

you hesitated, your body refusing your steps as you felt familiarity settle in the pits of your brain. you recognised that face.

"is that..." grace whispered, her back now facing the table as she followed your gaze, her eyes searched over your face for an ounce of emotion or something that could answer her open ended question.

"mason," you replied curtly, a spark of anger running sharply through your veins as grace crossed her arms across her chest. of course you knew she didn't have anything to do with this, that she wouldn't have known who the lads were either - but there was a thought nibbling away in the back of your mind, filling your head with dread as you struggled to keep yourself grounded in the moment.

you would never forget mason mount. your first serious boyfriend, he had taught you everything that you needed to know in order to survive in the world around you. it had been a passionate whirlwind romance; the dreaded three-words being shared between fits of laughter four weeks into the relationship, your belongings being packed into suitcases and drove to his as your romance would hit the two month mark.

before mason you never knew what love was - your warped definition gradually being erased as he showered you in nothing but affection. you were meant to last forever: both grow your wings and take off into the universe, hand-in-hand, never looking back. but you needed someone who was a constant presence in your life. and mason, at the time, couldn't offer you that.

"i didn't know you were back..." you greeted him with the absence of a 'hello' or 'how are you', taking a seat opposite him as grace's head bowed to the table, mason's friends mirroring her stance as they swallowed thickly.

mason didn't know where to look, eyebrows knitted in confusion as he tried to figure out if this was a wicked joke that someone had played on you both.

but you were real; restaurant was real; the blind-date was real.

the break-up had been cold and bitter, mason leaving with his things in badly packed bags and your heart still in his firm grasp. there were times where mason could smell the damp of the roads as he drove away that night, cheeks stained with tears as he wished you well. despite it being years since you last laid eyes on each other your heart would get a flutter of butterflies, cheeks tainted red as you felt yourself slip into the wide-eyed teenager that once fell in love.

"we were good together, weren't we?" his question was abrupt, leaving your stomach feeling as though you were about to go down the highest drop of a rollercoaster. and it was almost as if you both forgot that your friends were sat next to you, the tension between you being thick enough to slice with a knife.

"how much has changed?" you already knew the answer to your own question. his name was plastered across every sports channel and newspaper, photo's of him being shared around every corner of social media - your dry throat and hazed eyes always making you scroll on or look away. nobody knew you still had his old derby shirt still stuffed in the back of your wardrobe, your fingers never being strong enough to let it fall into the bin whenever you mentally prepared yourself to do so. you were more attached to the memories rather than mason himself: you were a happy, carefree teenager with a high-demanding relationship ideology.

and you didn't want to sit there and scream about how you both deserved to grow old together. that the timing was just sightly off; that it was weird because you both still thought of each other whenever a certain song crackled on the car radio.

you didn't want that.

"strangers?" mason had whispered, pinky finger pointed out towards you as his head nodded in the motion of your hand. your finger would wrap around his, his touch no longer feeling familiar as his skin was cold to your shaky touch. strangers.