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youryurigoddess · 18 days ago

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Anyone has £260,000 to spare?

Looks like Mary, better known to general public as Crowley’s Bentley from Good Omens, was put on sale — this time for real.

And the advertisement is full of anecdotes up to December 2024, including the filming of the show, as well as interior and exterior photos that might be helpful for artists and writers; definitely worth reading if you’re a Good Omens fan!

Vehicle description and photo gallery

(As published by the seller, Jeremy Marshall-Roberts)

“Mary is a 1934 Derby Bentley Thrupp & Maberley bodied Coupe. BLE 430 – B 96 BN. Two were made but the other one has not been seen since WW11, so she is unique. She is also the only Bentley in the world to have been blown up twice on screen. She was owned by Speed King Donald Campbell in the early fifties.

I acquired her in 2009, to go with my 1947 Mark VI. Since then the engine has been completely re-built, including a new head and block, with a new clutch put in at the same time. She has also been re-wired, new kingpins, total brake overhaul, new radiator and fuel pump with suspension and one shot lubrication system overhauled. Also had the speedometer and rev.counter serviced in 2018. She runs superbly and has just had her annual service at AB Classics, who specialise in pre-war Bentleys & Rolls Royces. (He also looks after my 1936 25/30 RR.

She is currently insured for £295,000 and I will be looking for an offer around £265,000.”

History

“Ordered for Jack Odling in September 1934. One of two 3 ½ lt Coupes made by Thrupp & Maberley. The other one has not been seen for several decades and presumed lost during World War 2. Not much early history but owned by Speed King Donald Campbell in the early 1950’s. We have a photograph of the car at that time being offered for sale, with silver wheel discs. His ownership is acknowledged by all the relevant history available in various publications and agreed with both Bentley Drivers Club & Rolls Royce Enthusiasts Club records.

She went through three owners from October 1954 to October 1961. Next piece of history is she was acquired by a Mr Silk of Romford in 1973 and underwent extensive professional restoration up to 1994, with a mechanical overhaul in 1994. She was back on the road in 1998. She was then purchased from P & A Wood by Andrew Smith in August 2001. He kept her until early 2008 when he sold her to Brian Classic as he did not wish to re-wire her. I bought her from Brian Classic in April 2009 with money left to me by my late Mother, Mary. We only just made the 100 miles home with many electrical problems. I am glad to say that Brian Classic eventually made a substantial contribution to the re-wiring by Jeremy Padgett.

The following year going into the RREC Concours the heating nearly went into the red so back to Jeremy Padgett to sort out. Result was a complete engine re-build by Ristes, also replaced the radiator core and new clutch plate. Finally back on the road in May 2012. Very expensive period. However, she is now in superb condition, being regularly serviced by AB Classics. More recently the carburettors have been re-built. Following an accident on set in 2017 she was sent to Steve Penny at Penny Vintage to restore the damaged door. Sadly this was one of his last jobs before retiring. What a superb craftsman he is, he made a fabulous job of restoring her. Needless to say she still looks superb. I have owned and enjoyed classic cars since 1969 and Mary must be my ultimate car.”

TV & Film work

“Whilst paying the engine re-build bills, I asked my accountant if I could offset costs against my regular income as a Wine & Hamper merchant. I then started www.classicbentleycarhire.co.uk as I was already doing the occasional wedding with Mabel, my 1947 Mark VI. In January 2014 I received a phone call from a TV film service company, TLO Film Services. Would I be interested in bringing Mary down to Taplow near Maidenhead to appear in the Endeavour series of Inspector Morse on Saturday and Sunday in early February. I duly arrived at an old warehouse complex by the Thames where this episode was being made. I was shown where to park and told to go and have lunch. Having been shown where to go I sat down and found the running order for the day’s scenes. Half way down was a scene called ‘Bang goes the Bentley’. Quite put me off my lunch. I found the TLO guy fairly shortly afterwards who explained that my car would be put somewhere near a series of pyrotechnic effects and no, they could not afford to really blow it up. I then went for a ride in Morse’s black Jaguar.

As soon as it got dark, I was asked to position Mary near a set of what can only be described as bamboo firework gadgets. Just managed to get into place, despite the heavy mud. The storyline is that a schoolboy drops a match into the fuel tank and up she goes. The young actor pretended to light a match having opened the outer fuel flap. CGI provided the spark and the pyrotecnic machines burst into life. There was a shot of the boy running to join the others with a big burst of flames in the background lighting up the quadrangle. All done in one shot. The next day the boys were being driven down the street by the ‘baddie’. Mary was stationery with lights going round 360o and a certain amount of pushing up and down on the bumper to simulate movement. The schoolboy actors, who were heavily chaperoned, were thrilled to discover they were in an 80 year old car. And that was it. Drove home the 120 miles to Lincolnshire. Kept in touch with TLO and used Mabel in another episode of Endeavour and a friends XK140 in the Outcast in 2015.

I had sold our business in 2014 to a very nice Italian couple to take it on to the next stage. Apart from old age creeping up, we had run out of space. The business struggled on that year and then I found a near perfect industrial building in Bourne. It moved in August 2015, leaving me with my old premises where I can, if everything was perfect, stash up to 17 cars. Should explain that our old premises are in the back garden of our home. I had bought a little 18’ cruiser to do up when the call came. ‘Jeremy, I am looking for a 1926 Derby Bentley, preferably black. Can you find me one please.’ I explained that they were not invented until 1933 and that mine was made in 1934 and is grey and black and has not changed since Endeavour three years earlier. Half an hour later phone goes again, ‘Can you bring your car down for production to have a look at in Ealing early next week’.

Production were delighted with Mary, especially after a bit of a run round Ealing. At this point no-one would tell me what it was all about, apart from the fact that this was ‘The Big One’. Two days later phone goes again, she is going to be Crowley’s Bentley in ‘Good Omens’ by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. My wife quickly ordered the book and read it. The Bentley was mentioned almost 80 times. Can I please take her to a specialist body maker for her cab to be replicated for studio scenes. Can I find an interior etc. I phoned Hew at The Real Car Company, who was a tremend ous help. A complete set of instruments and a steering wheel duly arrived.

Next, I was asked if I could take the car to Wokingham to be copied. Absolutely staggered to discover they wanted the car at Rushton’s Farm, where I lived from 1957 to 1963. Father’s chicken sheds had been converted into industrial units. A half hour drop off turned into four hours, as I took an old photograph album to show the current owners. The farmhouse had been separated from the rest of the farm by this time. A real trip down memory lane for me. Looking for a Derby body, seats etc., Hew recommended talking to Bob Petersen. He was stripping down a Thrupp & Maberley saloon to make one of his famous specials, so that was purchased complete with dash, seats etc., so Mary could be well and truly replicated. Even changed the indicator switch, so that both were identical. By this time the cast list had leaked out on the Internet. David Tennant and Michael Sheen are the main stars with others being added on a daily basis. I met many people, but mainly worked with these two, especially David. He is one of the nicest guys you could ever wish to meet. Very hardworking, but happily chats to everyone. I got Mary back from the farm in September, ready to start filming. The first scene was near Marlow for a two day shoot where I started to meet the cast and crew.

Trying to teach David how to drive Mary was a bit of a struggle. Most people in their forties haven’t a clue about cars without syncromesh on all gears, and David normally drives an automatic! However, Rob, the stunt driver, did know how to drive Mary and quickly picked up the fact that the clutch cannot be depressed for any length of time. The main problem with David and Rob changing over was about six inches in height. Don’t think the seat had been moved so much for years, with a gentle application of oil on the runners and avoidance of catching the carpet. During this period Mary used the registration NIATRUC, Curtain spelt backwards (the subject is the end of the world). The Morris Minor had SID RAT, TARDIS spelt backwards. David was an earlier Dr Who! Being the grandad on set meant that I was well looked after by everyone, who made sure I had Mary in the right place and usually a radio as well. There is a lot of hanging about on set then a burst of activity. Some shots are repeated over a dozen times to get differing angles and eventually sort out which take will be used. Within a few days I was getting the hang of it, meeting the directors, the camera guys, the sound technicians, moving from location to location, usually in or around the M 25 then in central London. Naturally you can watch Good Omens on BBC iPlayer and see how much Mary appeared. There are a few pictures of what it is like on set.

The second ‘Blowing Up’. As mentioned earlier we had purchased a rotten Thrupp & Maberley four door body and this was jury rigged onto a frame with wheels. Crowley drove his on fire Bentley on to the USAF base where it was spectacularly blown up by the pyrotechnic guys. I must admit that I was rather sad to see this happening but as one of the guys said to me ‘It’s either this one or yours’. I have my video of this happening which we will try to put on the BDC website. We should have finished by Christmas, but pushing snow and ice out of the way, rather delayed things especially whilst the extras wandered about in their summer clothes before diving into thick coats etc at the end of the shot. We returned for the final ten days shooting on 8 th January 2018. Rob, Mary’s stunt driver, was on holiday so someone else was brought in. I showed him how to drive Mary, but he was not used to old cars. Unfortunately the passenger door was not closed properly and in a scene with Mary coming down the street from an angle the suicide door flew open and hit another car, writing that off and Mary’s passenger door at right angles. If he had reacted quickly and slammed on the brakes the accident would not have happened. It took an hour to dismantle the door and jury rig it back onto the main body then tape it up, and paint it. Obviously the door could not be used again so had to change a few shots. The day after the accident, Mary had a different stunt driver, who know exactly how to drive her. He had been driving Rowan Atkinson’s Aston Martin round the Alps the week before for Johnny English 3. The final day loomed, very cold and Mary was in the last UK shot at 8.00pm. Suddenly it was all over, no time to say goodbye, as we had to get everything off site by midnight.

Fast forward to April 2019 and there was a request from Amazon for Mary to be used for the launching of Good Omens. First she appeared on the ‘Green Carpet’ in Leicester Square. The event was organised chaos with the stars appearing from all over the place, and the fans behind barricades. The next five days saw us in Greek Steet, Soho on the opposite side of the road from a mock up of Aziriphale’s (Michael Sheen’s Angel) book shop. Wonderful to meet all the directors and main stars again and properly say goodbye. The fans were queuing round the block to see the Book Shop and Mary.

Now back to normality. Mary was amongst the 1321 Bentley’s at Blenheim, as well as appearing at the RREC Concours event for Derbys in June. Now in my heated warehouse under cover for the winter. In 2023, seven of us ran the 90 th Anniversay weekend of the launch of Derby Bentleys, where 104 of these cars turned up at some part over this period. Final part of the weekend was at Chatsworth House on the Sunday. Prior to this five of us met with Simon Taylor of Classic and Sports Car Magazine so that he could do an article about these wonderful cars. His article finally appeared in the December 2024 edition. Naturally Mary is one of these five.”

#good omens #good omens props #the bentley #yuri is doing her thing #crying in poor

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cinamun · 1 year ago

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Well look at what we have here...

As it turns out, all the love you showed for this post allowed me to hit a new follower milestone and i'm just over the moon about it so thank you so much! It just so happens that the sim dump I was planning for that milestone hit during the first week of Black History Month; impeccable timing.

I would love to share some familiar faces this time, if you don't mind.

Download & Details under the cut!

If you've been following my story long enough then you'll recognize these fine, upstanding gentlemen:

You'll remember Kenji from such hits as "Mountain Fuckboy" and "The Reason Jayce Sent Hope to the Ancestral Plane"

As for Brian, you'll remember him from such hits as "The Guy Who Taught Indya Big Words" and "Dude Who Had To Leave For Training During The Trial of the Century"

As for Wallace, you may remember him by his other name...

Butterflyman™

Finally, Sam Steed (not part of the story other than he's screwing Kyla who blew the lid off who really shot Sherrita) who you'll remember from "The 5 Seconds I Played Through The Horse Ranch Pack"

Details:

CC Included with tray files

One everyday outfit

Traits, Likes, Dislikes

Sims come as one household

Do whatever just don't whitewash them

Happy Black History Month!

Enjoy!

DOWNLOAD | ALT

#ts4 #ts4 sim dump #ts4 sim download #sim dump #gallery

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lordprettyflackotara · 8 months ago

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Hitchhiker || The End

warning: this chapter contains content that some may find offensive and/or triggering. viewer discretion is advised.

You tried to listen.

Truthfully you considered yourself an obedient person. When it came to your boys, you’d do anything for them. Anything they’d ask of you, you’d do without another thought.

Watching Tim dart away into the winter night to fight The Operator, was one of the hardest things you’d ever seen. Being asked to stay and wait for Jack to come get you? Was the hardest thing you’d ever been asked to do. You switched your weight on each foot, gripping your knife. You could hear screams in the distance, Nova’s lifeless corpse the only thing you could see besides blinding white snow. You hated that Tim ordered you to stay put. Nova was the second person you had slaughtered for them, yet they still found you precious enough to conceal from the real danger.

Exhausted you glanced down at Nova, her once caramel skin now fading into a pale white like the snow. You crouched down beside her, gently shutting her eyes with your fingertips.

“I love you.”

As you muttered the words you realized that you loved them. Tim. Masky. Brian. Hoodie. Toby. You loved all of them and then some. Describing your admiration and endless love for them was impossible. It was a different kind of love, the kind that one comes once in a lifetime. You couldn’t be with one and not the others, that was incomprehensible. They were your lovers. Soulmates. Twin flames. No matter which way you translated it, it all ended the same.

Where ever they went, you wanted to follow them.

And if they died, you wanted to die with them.

You boldly stood to your feet, your head throbbing as you began to run. Snow crunched beneath your weight as you followed the path of the screams. Their voices became louder and louder, your heart pounding in your chest. The static was almost overbearing, tentacles flying in the air as you approached the gruesome scene. Toby was attempted to chop one of The Operator’s tentacles off, while Brian was stuck in its suffocating hold. Tim’s gun was out of bullets, the small golden shells scattered across the snowy floor. Tim was currently dodging his attacks, his feet being to slip on the ice below. “You can’t have her!” Brian, no, Hoodie screamed, the edge of his voice revealing the alter switch. You assumed The Operator to be communicating telepathically again, the boys growing more angry by the second. “F-fuck you!” Toby growled, the insult sending the odd creature over the edge. You gasped as more tentacles appeared, wrapping themselves around your lovers throats.

Your feet carried themselves in front of The Operator, the proxies thrashing and kicking in the air. If you didn’t do something he was going to choke them to death. “Stop it! Enough! I’m right here!” You exclaimed. Your knuckles were turning white from gripping your knife was tightly. You felt your heart race in anticipation as The Operator studied you.

“My dear foolish child. Your humanly emotions have brought you to your demise.”

His voice was cool and crisp, the creepiness he possessed lacing each and every word. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Let them go,” You said. You felt the boys eyes staring at the back of your head, watching your every move. “Y/n, run!” Masky tried to advise, the tentacle wrapped around his throat restricting his airway.

“No more. No more running. You guys deserve more than this,” You say. You looked over your shoulder, admiring Masky’s features. His skin was turning red from suffocation, his hands grasping at the sticky tentacle that stuck to his skin. “Let them go. They don’t deserve this,” You barked, your attention now centered on the The Operator.

“If I do that, i’ll have no proxies at all. Considering you slaughtered not one, not two, but three of my other ones!”

His slimy tentacle shot out towards you, wrapping itself around your neck. You could feel its suction cups gripping at your skin, burning it harshly as it pulsed around you. “Please! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll replace them!” You managed to sputter out, your fingers desperately clawing to free yourself from his grasp. The Operator lifted you into the air, your feet dangling hopelessly. You kicked at the air, struggling against his strength.

“What could possibly make you believe that you could replace all of my proxies combined? You self centered fool!”

His voice boomed in your head, causing you to see stars. You blinked them away rapidly, your lungs beginning to suffer from the lack of oxygen. “I killed Cat Hunter. I killed Nova. I caused Kate’s death. I did all of those things and i’m not even a goddamn proxy!” You argued. The creature brought you closer to him, his empty face inches away from yours.

“What is supposed to demonstrate my dear?”

You gritted your teeth, your mind spinning as he restricted your airway. “It means you should’ve anticipated this!” You hissed. With the last bit of strength you had you lifted your knife, stabbing The Operator in his shoulder. For a brief moment the creature stumbled, before waves of overwhelming static flooded your ears. You gasped as you felt something fly through your stomach, causing your mouth to fall open. You looked down, one of The Operator’s tentacles impaling itself through your stomach. You faintly heard Hoodie letting out a horrified scream, seeing his tentacle emerge on the other side of you. You choked on air as he yanked his tentacle out, mountains of blood and organs sticking to his suction cups. The creature then dropped you, your body thudding to the ground. He dropped the proxies as well, the three of them scurrying to your side.

They huddled around you, Toby immediately taking your hand and cradling it. Hoodie lifted your head, placing you on his lap. He stroked your hair out of your face, your vision becoming darker by the minute. Many ripped off his mask, his eyes welted and full of tears. “Dont cry, it’s alright,” You whispered. You began coughing, sputtering up blood as you did so. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, your vision becoming blurry. “Dont do this. Please don’t go,” Hoodie said, his face becoming red from crying. You reached up, using your last bit of energy to stroke Toby’s and Masky’s face. “I’m glad it was you guys in the end,” You said softly. Hoodie cradled your head, your fingers falling from Toby’s face first. Streaks of crimson red decorated his cheek, your attention turning to Masky. You gave him a sad smile, your hand falling from exhaustion. You looked above the tree line at the sky, the moon staring back down at you.

“I love you,” You whispered to all three of them, before allowing yourself to let go.

To say life was different after your death would be an understatement. Tim and Brian didn’t front anymore, your trauma too much for them to handle. Masky and Hoodie fronted permanently, taking over the shared bodies entirely. Your death brought The Operator exactly what he wanted. His proxies were back to being obedient, heartless killers. None of them were ever the same, hardly uttering anything at all. They were all haunted by the ghost of you. You lurked in their dreams, their minds. Forever and always.

Jack felt an incredible regret, upon hearing of your death. He was too blindsided by finding Nova’s corpse, his focus completely shifted. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave her body, even though her heart had stopped breathing long before he found her. The boys had decided to bury you both beside each other, far away in one of Jack’s hidden cabins that he had secluded in The Operator’s forest. Your graves sat side by side, both of you still together, even in the afterlife.

The proxies were never quite the same after your death, each of them feeling like they had lost the only thing they had ever truly loved.

Masky stood in front of your grave, watching Hoodie arrange flowers around your makeshift headstone. He inhaled his cigarette deeply, seeing Jack come around the corner from the corner of his eye. Silently Jack stood beside him, extending his hand. Masky gave him a cigarette, all of them picking up the nasty habit since you and Nova had died. “How are you holding up?” Jack asked. Hoodie’s head cocked upwards towards the window, the sound of Toby’s sobbing concerning him. Toby could never bring himself to visit your grave after the first time. Instead he opted to stay locked in his room upstairs, staring down at the grave that was now becoming overgrown with grass. Hoodie abandoned the site, walking into the house to check on the youngest proxy. “I can’t explain how I feel anymore. My thoughts are so scrambled I can’t even understand them,” Masky grumbled. Jack lifted his mask, allowing him to place his cigarette between his lips.

Masky handed him a lighter, the two looking down at their lovers graves. The two stood in comfortable silence, understanding the other one now more than ever. Jack didn’t have it in him to admit he knew your death was his fault. If Nova’s corpse hadn’t side tracked him, you’d still be alive. He tried to examine your body, to save you. But you didn’t have the proxies immortal properties and sadly, your body had long since shut down by the time he arrived at the gruesome scene. Jack knew it was his fault, even if none of them would ever admit it. His guilt led him to keep an eye on each of them, parenting them in an odd way. He had no control over The Operator, but he owed his life to them for introducing him to Nova and for failing to save your life. “It’s not your fault EJ,” Masky finally said. Jack furrowed his eyebrows, looking over at him. “We both know it was and you have no idea how much guilt consumes me everyday,” Jack replied.

Masky exhaled through his nose, the smoke evaporating into the air. “The Operator was never going to let us have her. To let her live. We tried to change our destiny. And sometimes, it’s our destiny whether we like it or not,” He grumbled. Masky couldn’t help but remember your sweet face, soft smile, doe eyes. He’d give up anything to touch you, even just for a moment.

Love is short. Forgetting is long. When you’re a hitchhiker, you’ll spend eternity remembering, no matter how much you wished you could forget.

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grotesquedarling · 10 months ago

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All Yours.

Toby Rodgers x Werewolf!Fem!Reader

Summary: You are assumed dead, after going on a walk and not coming back. Toby finds evidence of the 'death' and thinks the worst. You return hours later, your ability to heal not working well. Toby helps you clean up, which leads to much more.

A/N: This is a one-shot for a story I am writing for Toby, where reader is a werewolf. If anything is confusing in this one-shot, God I pray not, it is connected to my story and things will fall in place as I post it! Divider made by cafekitsune! Please go easy on me, this my first time writing smut, or anything really, in about 2 years, due to writer's block, so things may be clunky.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!, P in V, descriptions of violence and murder, no protection. (If I have forgotten one, please let me know!)

Word count: 3k

“Wh- What now?” Toby yelled. “Sh-she is d-dead!” He was getting worked up, stuttering more than usual.

Tim and Brian couldn’t do anything, nothing that would be helpful anyway, so they listened. They listened for so long they were to the point of ‘listening’. Which consisted of sitting in the room and dissociating while looking interested.

Toby was getting louder, pacing faster, unsure of how to handle the situation. “Are y-you even li-listening to m-me? SHE’S GONE!”

Before Tim or Brian could say anything, there was a loud bang on the cabin’s front door. As soon as all their eyes shot in the direction of the sound, the doorknob was ripped from the door, leaving a gaping hole where it once was. A few bloody fingers could be seen going into the hole to open the door.

The door swung open and there you stood, bloody and bruised. The three men looked at you in awe and confusion.

“How-?”

“Don’t fucking speak to me,” you growled, “I am going to take a shower.”

Toby just stood there, unable to process the fact that you were actually alive, you may have looked like shit, but there you were, covered in blood and looking hotter than ever.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As the cold water started to run down your body, the dried blood and dirt washed away. The images of the people that had been mauled, maimed, and mutilated didn't go anywhere, though, as a matter of fact, they just lingered and kept replaying.

“Shut up! You stupid fucking cunt, just stay down. Quit fighting back, you won’t win.”

A hand grabbed your hair as you were being yelled at, dragging you over to the lake you had been brought to to be thrown in after being killed. The thought of not being able to swim crossed momentarily, it was gone as soon as it seemed to come. Staying conscious was getting harder by the minute, eyes trying to close and breathing was almost impossible.

Unsure of what to do, a last burst of adrenaline hit, right before getting dunked into the lake. Your hand wrapped itself in the hair of the woman holding you, and dragged her off the dock with you.

Fighting underwater was not as easy as one would hope for in this situation. All you could do was hold on to the throat of the woman trying to murder you. If you’re dying, so is that bitch. Time felt almost as if it was slowed, as you waited for the bitch’s partner in crime to try to help her, he never showed.

Even struggling was hard, but losing is something you were never okay with, you had to win, or not die. Finally, life seemed to have left the woman, but you weren't about to let her trick you. You pulled yourself above the water, dragging the woman with you.

Your hand scrunched a bunch of the woman's hair, and quickly, with all the strength you could muster, you smashed her head into the dock, probably a little more than what would kill her. She will not be coming back from that one, you made sure of it.

As you finished, you stood up and looked down, blood was everywhere, yours and your attacker’s. You had no time to worry about that though, there was a man, somewhere close, who also wanted you dead. Blood loss and pain seemed to start setting in as you reached the grass, knees bruising as you hit the ground.

“What the fuck did they do to me? Why am I not healing? And where the fuck is-?”

Dead. As soon as you saw something, or someone, out of your peripheral vision running off, you noticed the guy was way beyond dead. You gave the woman you left on the dock one last glance, there was absolutely no chance she was coming back, unless someone were to gorilla glue her brain back together.

With both of them dead, you took a few minutes to lay in the grass, in the hopes that regulating your heart rate would start the healing process. It did not.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tears fell down your cheeks as you sat on the floor of the shower, the back of your head against the wall. Pain was something foreign to you, considering your healing factor, but the healing wasn’t happening, not as fast as usual anyway. The pain was almost unbearable, but the feeling of possibly being dramatic due to never having to feel pain for long seemed to cross your mind.

Unaware of how long you’d be sitting under the warm water, you realized it had been at least 20 minutes. The water started to get cold, the change in temperature wasn’t a bother, considering you run hot anyway, but that meant someone would be checking on you soon, probably Toby. You two had gotten close recently, very close. Too close, according to Tim.

Keeping your composure under the cold water was getting hard, the adrenaline had worn off and everything hurt. Suddenly, you were hyper aware of every bruise and open wound you had, your legs hurt, your body ached, and breathing started getting hard again. A panic attack hit.

A heavy knock hit the bathroom door, and the door opened. The realization of how loud you were sobbing seemed to bring you back to reality. Trying to speak to Tim, who just slung the bathroom door wide open, was impossible at the time, the only thing coming from you were sobs.

The shower curtain moved to the side ever so slightly, Tim’s eyes met yours as you looked up at him, curled into a tight ball, knees against your chest.

“He wanted me to check on you first, can he come in?” Tim seemed to be hiding the worry he had for you, hoping that if he didn’t worry, Toby wouldn’t worry as much. That didn't work. Toby peeked over Tim’s shoulder to see how fucked up you were.

“G-get out Tim,” Toby shoved Tim aside and out the door. Once the bathroom door closed, Toby just stared at you for a minute, taking in the wounds that were not healing. “Why are you st-still bleeding? I th-thought you-.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the wall in front of you, unmoving as your head rested on your knees. Words weren’t coming easy, the panic attack seemed to subside, breathing still seemed to be a big task, and you felt mentally numb.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Toby crouching now and knew he wouldn’t go away without getting the information he wanted and making sure you were okay, and since being okay was not a thing at the moment, he would not be leaving.

“If you’re just gonna sit there and stare at me like that, you might as well get in.” You deadpan, eyes still glued to the wall. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

His eyes widened, “I-I,” he stuttered out, shocked by your offer. “I’ll h-have you know, I haven't ever s-seen you n-naked by ch-choice. You don’t l-lock doors.” He was flustered, but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer. He started to remove his clothes, and quickly.

While trying to stand up so Toby could get in the shower, stars filled your vision and put you right back on your ass and a little yelp left your throat. You leaned into the wall again, completely and utterly ready to give up.

Toby sat down beside you, both of you completely vulnerable, and seemed to be scanning the severity of the damage to your body. He was quiet, more quiet than usual, it was almost scary. His eyes finally made his way up to yours, tears started streaming once again. Never in your life had you wanted to be held so badly, you had always been able to be independent and take care of yourself.

With his eyes still locked on yours, the words ‘hold me,’ slipped from your lips. Without hesitation he pulled you into him, causing you to wince with how fast and rough the action was.

“S-sorry,” he whispered as he gently loosened his grip on you. His fingers started tracing the bruises on your arms, then stomach, then your thighs. Something about him having to be gentle with you for the first time, made you feel a way, you couldn’t tell what that way was, but it was nice.

Leaning into him was a lot better than leaning on that hard ass wall, as he continued looking over your body, you listened to his heart as your head rested against his chest, regulating your own breathing and heart rate.

Pain started to slowly subside, your chest was not as tight, and the anxiety had melted away. Healing still wasn’t happening, at least not fast enough, it only seemed to be slowly coming back, and being the most impatient person in the world it might as well just be not working.

“I don’t understand why I am not healing,” you thought aloud, “If you're done looking at my tits from over my shoulder, will you help me just clean up? I feel absolutely disgusting.”

Toby was flustered once more, and hid his face in your shoulder for a moment. “Y-yeah, I can,” he whispered before helping you up.

Being in such a vulnerable state with you was something he never thought would happen, at least not when you first met anyway. Something about the innocence of sitting with each other, naked in the shower, made him want more than that. He was craving you, in so many different ways.

His impulse control was in overdrive but now, he didn’t want to hurt you, he was supposed to help you clean yourself up. All he could think about, though, was having his way with you. His hands were a little shaky now, trying not to think about grabbing you and pushing you against the wall. That seemed to be the only thought his brain could manage to give him, he was getting frustrated.

“You know, as a werewolf, I can smell many different pheromones, and I-,” you were quickly interrupted before you could finish the sentence.

“Sh-shut the f-fuck up!” Toby practically shouted. “You s-stink and you need h-help showering, let me f-finish helping you.”

“How about I help you after this, then? If I’m not too sore anymore.”

The look on Toby’s face was of pure confusion, “with what?”

You shook your head, “Let’s just finish here first.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Toby caught on a lot quicker than you thought he would, you hadn’t seen him move that fast and sporadic before. He needed you though, and when you offered yourself to him, even with the state you were in, he was not going to let opportunity slip away.

Your healing seemed to be back to a semi-normal speed. All you felt were light aches and any open wound looked like a gnarly scar, but they were closed up and not bleeding. What more could someone ask for?

“What the fuck were you two doing in there?” Brian asked, but quickly took the question back. “You know, don’t actually answer that. You two share way too much information already. Pretend I never asked, I am leaving.”

As Brian walked away, Toby practically dragged you to his room. His excitement was unmatched. He has wanted to do this since you two beat the shit out of each other sparring, which was about three weeks ago. Something about you looking feral unlocked something within him.

The thought of you scraping your sharp canine teeth across his neck, bringing blood to the surface while riding his thigh was something he never knew he wanted or needed. He wanted to be buried deep in your pussy, he wanted to be between your thighs, he wanted, no he needed to have you in every way possible.

Toby couldn’t decide what to do first, his thoughts were racing as you stood behind him while he locked the door. Once it was locked, he turned to you and lost the little bit of composure he had left. He grabbed you and ripped the shirt you had just put on after the shower completely off your body, and pushed you down on his bed.

Now all that was left on you was your panties, his focus wasn’t there yet, though. His kisses were sloppy yet held so much passion. His hands seemed to wander your body as he started kissing down your jaw line and making his way to your collarbone.

A small gasp escaped you when his hands finally found their way to your breasts. The way he squeezed them made you think he’d been waiting for the moment. The way he held onto you in general made you wonder how long he’d been wanting this. You had to admit, you had also been waiting for this, the way Toby had been acting around you, the way his glances started lingering, or how you could hear his heart rate change slightly when he’d see you.

His lips were back on yours now, and he was growing more and more desperate by the second, he whined a little as he started grinding into your thigh. You smirked when you realized how needy he was. He took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You could tell he didn’t know what to do next, the way he moved, twitched, and whined into the kisses. Pulling away from his lips for a moment caused him to become confused, but when your hands moved down his chest and started pulling at his pants he realized you weren’t trying to get away, you were helping him. A giggle came from you when you saw the look on his face.

“Wh-what? D-did I do something wr-wrong?” He was slightly worried.

As you shook your head, your hands went to his hair and pulled back into a kiss. He seemed to melt into you. He was so rough, even while trying to not be rough, then there was you. So gentle and loving. Despite being some sort of monster, you were just so patient, it drove him crazy, he loved it.

“I, I don’t kn-know what to d-do first.” He stuttered through his kisses.

Deciding to take things in your own hands so he wouldn't have to decide, you flipped him onto his back. His eyes went wide, he forgot about your strength, he was not going to argue though. With you on top, he seemed to be in awe. The way you looked was angelic.

“Are you ready?”

All that came from Toby was a whine as you went to sit on him, but you were going slow, way too slow. His hands grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise you as he forced you down. He started grinding up into you, and moving your hips whichever way he wanted, there was no rhythm, just random thrusting.

Now it was your turn to whine. Your hands rested on his abdomen and your claws started to come out. A growl escaped you, as your hips rocked in a more rhythmic way, syncing with his.. The moans and little growls rumbling through you were almost enough to get Toby to cum then and there.

His grip tightened on your hips as he started controlling your movements again, very sporadically. You didn’t care though, you were close too.

“Toby, I’m…” was all you could manage before a warm feeling came over you and you were orgasming. Your head went back and your eyes shut tight, and with your pussy clenching around his dick as you rocked your hips through your high, Toby quickly found ecstasy after you.

A string of moans and cusses came from Toby as he rode out his high with you still on his dick. He didn't want you to move, not yet. His grip on your hips was so tight by now that his knuckles were white. It felt as if he was making sure this was real.

“F-fuck,” He managed to moan out. “That was s-so much b-better than any of the p-porn I’ve ev-ever watched.”

You giggled again as you rolled from the top of Toby to the side of him. You laid your head on his chest for a moment, just listening to his heart. You gently kissed his cheek, before throwing your legs over the side of his bed and putting on a shirt that was on his floor. You were almost certain it was not a clean shirt, you used it though, just in case Tim or Brian came in and saw you with absolutely nothing on. Not that they would ask you any questions about what you were doing though. They have learned their lesson asking that one too many times.

“I don’t know how much longer they will be gone, but I have to pee. When I come back-”

“We’re fucking even ha-harder. I have s-so many th-things I want to try wi-with you.” Toby was very serious saying this, but laughed a little, until he heard Tim and Brian walk in through the front door. He wasn’t going to be able to do anything with you now, they would complain about the noise.

Brian was quick to speak as he walked in, “We’re back, please don’t be fucking in my line of sight.”

Tim shook his head at that statement. “I am going to bed, if you are fucking, do it quietly,”

“They are such party poopers. Looks like it’s bedtime at the old folks home. Whatever, you good if I sleep in here tonight? That couch is going to give me tetanus with those rusty springs stabbing me in my ass cheeks.”

Toby looked from you to his bed, and gave you a strange look. “Your bed is way more comfy!”

“H-how do you kn-know that?”

“I take naps in here when you’re out or whatever.” You spoke matter of factly. The two of you stared at each other, unblinking for about ten seconds. Toby sighed, and promptly made a small space for you.

“D-don't make this a habit.”

“Sleeping in your room? We just fucked in your bed. Shut up.”

#creepy pasta #creepypasta #marble hornets #ticci toby #ticci toby smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x reader #marble hornets smut #marble hornets x reader

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mosquego359 · 5 months ago

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𖤐One Kiss and A Quidditch Match — Chapter 4: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang𖤐

Prologue (recommended to read)

Chapter 3 (previous)

Pair: Cedric Diggory x Male Slytherin Reader

Word count: 2.7K words

Summary of the book: You and Cedric Diggory hate each other. It has always been this way. But everything changes one night when you kiss each other at a party. Now, it seems you can’t escape each other — from being partnered up in Herbology for an important project to having to help Cedric during the Triwizard Tournament.

Summary of the chapter: Two weeks after you became partners with Cedric, Hogwart's Rival Schools arrive.

Notes: Please comment anything I should change to improve this. Also, I am not British so I am not 100% sure how to correctly write people from the UK. Also, Wix is the gender neutral term for witch and wizard and, like in the books Durmstrang and Beauxbatons are a school with mixed genders. This is the video I'm basing for the guests' introduction.

Content warning: One curse word. It's also a bit fruity.

!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDITS TO ME!

...

Around a week or two later, you decided to hang out more with Alistair. Your judgy grudge against him had dimmed to a slight annoyance, and the two of you agreed to not bring it up.

It was now the 30th of October, and Hogwarts’ rival schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were to arrive in the evening. You personally hadn’t given the Triwizard Tournament much though for you were too young to participate and not keen on putting your life in dangerous situations.

The rest of your friends, however — particularly Alistair and Ziggy — were buzzing with anticipation.

And that was how you, Brian and Ziggy’s friend — whom you found out was named Roman Conyngham — silently watched Ziggy and Alistair passionately fantasise about the Triwizard Tournament.

Their conversation buzzed around the air of the grand Dining Hall, a complex and complicated interaction that caused you to zone out from boredom. Your eyes strayed from any of the boys you were with and to Elsie, Winnie and Destiny, sitting together at the Hufflepuff table.

Your mind shifted to the day you and Cedric became partners.

After class, you watched as Elsie rapidly marched away from the classroom, Destiny by her side. You swore you saw her glance back at you before finally disappearing into the corridor.

At lunchtime, you swiftly devoured your meal, curious yet concerned for Elsie. She was often serious, and that meant what she would tell you was something important. It was probably rather personal since, if it wasn’t, she would have informed you on the spot.

You craned your neck to see if she was still in the great hall — which she was not — before heading to the library with a goodbye from Brian and Winnie.

It wasn’t hard finding Elsie; she was pacing by a window at the corner of the library — your usual studying spot.

“Elsie?” You said softly to grab her attention.

Her head snapped up, and — with a furrow in your brow — you noticed a stressed look in her golden eyes. She gestured for you to come closer, simultaneously looking around for any snooping students.

“(Name),” she paused, nervously playing with her hair, “It’s about the party…”

You nodded carefully as curious thoughts circled your mind. Was this about Alistair?

“You see, after the whole…fiasco with Campbell,” Elsie cringed, “I went to the drink table since I was looking for Winnie. And I may have taken a couple too many shots. So I was drunk when I finally found Winnie. Stay with me on this, alright?”

You arched a brow. This was about her? Was there drama between them you didn’t know of? If so, why had they been so friendly with one another since the party? Sure, they seemed a bit off at some points, but you didn’t think too much of it.

Elsie glanced nervously to the side, “Winnie agreed to tell you. Please don’t say anything to Alistair, (Name). We’re telling Brian later.”

“You can trust me.” You promised, “Take your time.”

Tugging her brown curls, Elsie stayed silent momentarily, staring at your eyes. You saw how hesitant she was about the conversation and mentally applauded her for opening up to you. She inhaled a big breath, “I kissed Winnie.”

“So, Alistair, how do you feel with your little sis getting along with your ex?” Ziggy asked, snapping you out of your daze.

Alistair shrugged but looked visibly uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat as he replied, “Eh, don’t care much for it. I mean, Winnie can do whatever; I don’t control her life.” He puffed his fringe out of his face.

Ziggy and Roman shared a look, and the former responded in mild disbelief, “Yeah, of course.”

Personally, you were glad that they were all finally getting along, but a small pang of jealousy shot into your heart when you recalled barely talking to them for the entire day. In DADA, they had moved their seats to the back where Destiny sat, and you barely saw them in Herbology because of your project with Cedric Diggory.

Professor Sprout had given you a different room to work in, and when you came out covered in cuts and bruises from the Snargaluff, your class would joke that you were physically fighting.

For example, earlier that day, the Snargaluff was particularly peeved and somehow tangled you and Cedric in its bulky vines. You felt embarrassed to say that Professor Sprout had to rescue you from its grasp.

Needless to say, you felt triumphant when Cedric had to hobble to the nurse to get his scratches checked. Apparently, the Snargaluff’s vines had squeezed his leg so hard it turned blue, thus causing him to get healed. You, on the other hand, felt fine despite an ache in your core and a few scrapes from being compressed by the plant.

You admitted that you felt an odd pang of pity seeing your usually all-powerful rival limp out of the class like a fragile bird. You weren't used to seeing his vulnerable side.

Hands-on your cheek, you glanced over to where he was sitting with his friends. He was laughing, his perfect pearly smile gleaming charmingly. You felt as if some of the girls you knew thought of him as a fairy prince with those gorgeous grey eyes and soft-looking brown hair.

The last time you saw him was in the hallway, walking to his next class, which you believed to be his Transfiguration class. His leg was still in a cast, but he looked to be trying to apply some weight to it with the help of his mates and a mutual friend of yours — Chunhua Chang, also known as Cho.

A wave of warmth subconsciously flooded your heart at the thought of him recovering from the incident. You were honestly glad of his healing and smiled when you noticed he was recounting something to his friends. He was so…

Wait, what were you thinking?

You shook your head, and despite no one being able to hear your thoughts, your neck grew warm in embarrassment. Sure, you were mildly aware of your attraction to boys, but there was no way you liked Cedric Diggory of all people.

You felt a nudge from your right, “You doing okay, man? Your face looks a bit red,” Roman asked in concern. Sometimes, you were glad most of the other students were ignorant of your odd condition.

“I’m alright, thank you for your worry, Roman,” You smiled calmly at him, and he shrugged.

“Did you see the chariot outside?” you heard a 4th Year student to your left ask her friend with excitement, “Today is the day the foreign students arrive!”

Her friend giggled, “Ahh! Do you think there’ll be any cute boys?”

“Obviously,” the first girl huffed, “French boys are hot.”

“What about those at Durmstrang?”

“Don’t even think about it, Emily! I heard they are troublemakers. Apparently they’ve been cheating at the Triwizard Tournament for years. I doubt any good guys go to that dreadful place.”

You turn away from their conversation, feeling rather awkward listening to a bunch of children for information regarding Hogwarts’ rival schools. Luckily for you, Ziggy and Alistair were now gushing about the games.

“Hey, Brains, do you think the new schools will arrive soon, I’m starting to get hella impatient,” Alistair huffed and nudged Brian, who was snoozing off. You stifled a laugh at his confused expression.

“Huh?” He asked, and you swore you saw drool trickling down his chin.

“When will we get introduced to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?” You rephrased Alistair’s question, leading forward curiously.

“So you were listening!” Ziggy jumped in.

Brian ignored him and frowned, “Well, I expect Dumbledore to give us a speech any minute now. I believe he is waiting for the rest of the students to settle in their seats. Surely he won’t make us sit here impatiently for long.”

You craned your neck to the entrances of the Great Hall, noting not a single student in sight seemed to be trickling in. Everyone was here so why wasn’t Dumbledore doing anything.

As if your thoughts were a trigger, the old headmaster stood up from his chair, and, like a magnet, attracted the attention of all the students. Despite your dislike for him because of how he favoured Gryffindor and detested Slytherin, you admitted he was rather excellent at drawing everyone’s eyes to him.

“Well now that we’re all settled in and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement.” Dumbledore commenced. The door to the main entrance cracked open and Filch scrambled over to the headmaster as he continued, causing a few students — including yourself — to chuckle at his silly run, “This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well.”

The old man paused to listen to what Filch had to say. He nodded carefully, whispering something in his ear before continuing his speech. “You see, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: The Triwizard Tournament.” You glanced at the Hufflepuff table, seeing how Cedric’s friends were teasing him and the way he smiled in mild embarrassment. A pang of jealousy shot through your heart. It wasn’t fair that he got to compete, and you weren’t. You were just as powerful, perhaps even more.

“Now, for those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. For each school, a single student is chosen to compete. Now, let me be clear, if chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint-hearted, but more on that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies and men of the Beauxbatons academy of magic and their headmistress: Madame Maxime!”

The doors of the main entrance slid open, and a bunch of students your age strutted in, perfectly in sync and classical music played as they walked.

They were all dressed in a similar fashion: a silky, baby blue uniform with an elegant poncho and small hat. The girls wore skirts over lights while the few boys wore tight-fitting pants that totally did not make you stare at their asses.

You heard Alistair whistle when they passed. The girl's repressed smiles at his flirtatious move.

At some point in the song, they extended their arms with a very flowy movement, making you realise they were dancing. They then separated themselves into two groups and lined up in a v formation in front of the students.

A tall woman dressed in furs and leopard prints walked after her students. She had to be at least 2.5 meters if not more. You assumed she was the headmistress, Madam Maxime, as you and many others gaped at her.

Ziggy and you shared a look, and he mouthed, “She’s humongous.”

In front of her, two students performed a gymnastic choreography, elegantly bowed to their headmistress and finally stepped into the lines their fellow students were placed in.

Hogwarts erupted into applause, and a few wix even stood up. However, you spotted many girls in the room with disapproving looks on their faces.

Dumbledore carefully took Madame Maxime’s hand and placed a respectful kiss on it. He then walked a bit higher up on the steps and quickly silenced the crowd with his hands.

Alistair whispered to your group with a smirk, “Did you see the pretty blonde one?” But he was quickly hushed by a few people to his left.

Your eyes scanned the Beauxbaton girls until you spotted one of the girls who bowed to Madame Maxime next to the Hufflepuff table. Her hair was a golden blonde, wrapped in a ponytail, and the front curled around her jaw like a perfect ribbon, framing her glowing face. Even at a distance, you could tell she was stunning.

“And now, our friends from the north!” Dumbledore boomed, grabbing your attention, “Please great proud sons and daughters of Durmstrang and their headmaster Igor Karkaroff.”

A more sombre music started playing along with drums. A band of mostly boys marched in, occasionally hitting their staff on the group and shouting on time with the music. They stuck their staffs forward and twirled them, performing a simple yet powerful choreography as they neared the front with the Beauxbaton students, who had moved to the sides next to the wall.

Suddenly, they rushed forward, and two of them executed a series of somersaults and gymnastics, breakdancing their way where the Beauxbatons students once were while the others placed themselves in a v shape.

Two men entered the Great Hall, and you heard Ziggy and Alistair gasp, and Roman whispering, “Is it really him?”. This caused you to recognise one of those faces as the famous Bulgarian Seeker, Viktor Krum.

You assumed the mean-looking man in white behind him was the headmaster Igor Karkaroff. You finally noticed a smaller man trailing them, dressed in grey.

The two students who breakdanced blew fire from their wands like dragons, controlling it to make it resemble a phoenix, giving the other students a little spectacle.

When the fire disappeared, they rapidly lined themselves up with the others, making way for Karkaroff and Hogwarts erupted in applause. The Beauxbatons students clapped respectfully.

The headmaster of Durmstrang walked up to Dumbledore, who spread his arms wide in greeting, and they both hugged each other, patting each other on the back in a friendly manner.

Once Karkaroff had moved to the side, Dumbledore cleared his throat to grab the student’s attention from the attractive Beauxbaton candidates, the gymnasts from Durmstrang and Krum.

“Please, please, take a seat, you all, make yourselves at home,” Dumbledore smiled at the crowd of guests. The students shared a look before ultimately choosing their tables. Luckily for you, Durmstrang had chosen the Slytherin one and had settled into their seats. Krum sat next to Alistair and across from Ziggy, who both started shifting in their seats in excitement.

But before they could say anything, Dumbledore spoke.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, ghosts, and — most particularly — guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.” You heard a snicker from the Ravenclaw table and rolled your eyes at the disrespect.

“The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” Dumbledore continued, “I now invite you all to eat, drink and make yourselves at home!”

Through the meal, Viktor Krum, Ziggy and Alistair started having a conversation while you and your two other friends talked quietly amongst yourself.

Brian and Roman were rather alike: calm and collected, introverted and you found out Roman was a top student in most of his classes. At first, it confused you since you never saw him until he mentioned being in Year 7.

“You gotta have someone to control that energetic idiot,” he shrugged when you asked him about being friends with Ziggy.

Speaking of him, he and Alistair were gushing over Krum, whom you noticed was rather unresponsive. It wasn’t until the Quidditch player glanced at his peers and shifted in his seat that you realised he didn’t like the attention. You felt pity; he was worldwide famous and yet never enjoyed the attention.

At the end of the meal, Dumbledore brought in something called the Goblet of Fire and when he started speaking of signing up for the Triwizard Tournament, you tuned out, a jealous hole forming in your heart.

Like Alistair, you wanted to participate, but in contrast, you were too young. You recalled the Weasley twins complaining about it in the hallway earlier that day, and despite your indifference to them, you couldn’t help but relate.

Your eyes drifted away from the headmaster to the Hufflepuff table, first to your girl friends, then to Cedric Diggory. To your surprise, he was already staring. Since you were competitive, you instinctively kept your eyes on him until he turned away.

Slowly, you faced the front again. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks and neck for the second time tonight. Your hands were cold, so you pressed them to where your skin felt warm.

Merlin’s Beard, what was happening to you?

...

Chapter 5

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alabasterwasps · 4 months ago

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The only solid birth year we get from ANYONE is Tim, who was born in 1988.

We get this info from the doxed records, and he shares a birthday/year with his actor. So it’s safe to assume everyone else also does, at least the year.

Alex’s birthday is April 4th but his Joseph’s is May 21, 1988.

Jay’s actor Troy was born May 17th 1988.

Brian’s actor Brian was born April 17th, 1989.

(Collected info from online, idk how correct they are).

According to Jay, Alex started working on MH in 2006. The extent of what had started we don’t know. I would guess either script writing or early filming.

They were all only 18-19 in 2006, and depending on how old they were when they left highschool only one or two years into college.

Alex is technically the oldest with Jay following only a few weeks later, I would imagine they probably have gone to college the fall after graduating so they could’ve started as early as 17, maybe 18, entering college in 2005.

Tim is complicated because he didn’t go to highschool. According to his records his last year of school was 2nd grade when he was 7/8 years old. So he would’ve been schooled in the care hospital he was placed in until he turned 18. If he was a year ahead of Brian, it probably wouldn’t have mattered because they probably schooled him longer?

So they entered college at the same time in 2006.

Depending on course requirements, assigned student films are given a semester or school year to complete. However it isn’t unheard of, if someone is taking an extensive film major that may take a couple years, to have a larger film due at an end of the course which could be 2 to 4 years. It’s not common but not unheard of.

If this is the case for Alex, it’d make sense. In 2005, He’d have been given maybe a semester of learning how to direct and film and write, then come spring of 2006 be given the project. He writes the script over summer break and by fall he does casting and he has all year to film. Filming starts late Winter 2006 and runs into Spring, it’s why the earliest shots seem to have mostly dead woods.

Back tracking just a bit, Brian enters, seems like he knows Alex. It’s possible they went to highschool together, honestly very likely the town they are in is a small one. Maybe they were even in a drama/theater club together but that’s totally speculation. They knew each other before college.

Brian knows Tim at this point, presumably having several classes with him and them having their slowly growing friendship. It’s possible they were roommates. It is possible Brian met Tim earlier but we don’t know how strict Tim’s hospital care was as a teenager and how much he would’ve been allowed out but it could be possible they’ve known each other a few years too. But whatever is the case, he knows Tim. So, when invited to the auditions he brings Tim.

Alex’s film has a year of work time, starting in the cross over of 2006/2007. It is due by the first class of the following fall/start of school year, 2007. He gets all year and all summer to film.

But then stuff with the Operator starts happening. It also means that Seth, Sarah, and Brian are all missing or presumed dead in 2007.

Alex either never turns in the film or he edits it together like we see glimpses of and something not finished to his vision is turned in, it doesn’t matter.

Months go by, after Alex stopped inviting people over, stopped talking to people, plans on moving, is when Jay calls him about the tapes, about wanting to preserve them or finish them, or just have them. I would again guess by what little we see of outside this is fall/winter of 2008. This is that scene we see with Jay at his house getting bags of tapes. Jay is the last person Alex has contact with other than Amy, but we don’t hear much about her during this time as she likely lives with her roommate Jessica here.

That’s when Alex shoves the tapes into Jay’s arms and tells him to leave (and then beats the snot out of him after).

It’s a couple months later, after Alex totally goes MIA, that Jay starts watching the videos, compiling them, and that’s when he starts posting in 2009. The events roll out as we know them there.

#marble hornets #alex kralie #brian thomas #jay merrick #tim wright #timeline #dunno could be wrong but #this is how i’ve mapped it together #i also likely won’t use this either it was just fun to do #and that’s checkmate

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fandom-imagines-stories · 2 months ago

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Autograph

Season Three Episode Seven

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 6438

Series Masterlist

Summary: When the team is called in on a case involving the reader’s notorious ex, they all must set aside their frustration to stop a kidnapper.

Notes: You thought you’d get a break from the drama, huh? Not yet, baby. We have to insert some angst and backstory after all the grieving. Mwahahaha.

You held the invitation with a shaking hand, your whole body vibrating with anger.

Brian Calvin, PHD, invites you to the release of his new book, Don’t Blow Out the Candles: The Story Behind the Birthday Cake Killings followed by a fundraiser gala for the victims of violent crimes. All guests will be treated to a reading from the book and a panel with Dr. Calvin. Events will be held at the Rayson Hotel, April 14th beginning with the reading at 5:00.

A note beneath was written by hand.

I hope you’ll be my guest of honor.

Love, Brian.

The nerve of the bastard.

You didn’t know which you wanted to rip apart more, the invitation or the man who sent it. Instead, you focused on making breakfast and a pot of coffee for the sleeping agent back in your bed.

Spencer was sleeping in for the first time in weeks. With case after case, it felt like there was no end to the travel or the work. You weren’t faring much better when it came to free time. When you weren’t interviewing prisoners or taking care of Jack, you were planning a fall wedding. October, just like when you met.

And now Calvin thought he could waltz back in and ruin it all over again. Well, he was going to have to try a little harder than a goddamn party.

The padding of footsteps on the floor pulled you from your focus on eggs you were scarcely close to burning.

“Morning,” you greeted, giving Spence a smile to show nothing was wrong.

He saw right through it, of course. “Good morning.” Spencer kissed your cheek and sat at the table to pick up one of his books that went over your head. He spotted the invitation you left on the counter. “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You dropped the spatula and reached for the paper before he could get a closer look, but he was too quick.

His brows shot up. “Brian Calvin?”

“Spence-”

“As in the professor that pushed you further into an addiction that almost killed you? As in your ex, Brian Calvin?”

“That would be the one.” You threw the invitation in the trash and went back to breakfast. “Guess I know what he’s been up to all these years.” You took a shaky breath and shook your head. “Damn good title, though.”

“Does Hotch know?” Spencer asked.

“Spence, I just opened it,” You sighed. “No. Nobody knows.” You plated eggs for him and yourself and sat across from him. “And besides, it doesn’t matter.”

“He wrote a book about what he did to you like it’s noble,” he said. “Of course, it matters.”

“Yeah, well, he isn’t the first person to paint me in a bad light and he probably won’t be the last.” Pushing your food around with your fork, you stared out the window. “I’m surprised people haven’t blamed me for Haley, too.”

Spence crossed over to you, kneeling at your side. He took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips.

“Is that what you think?”

“I’m fine, Spence.” You kissed his forehead, rustling his hair. “I’m just in a mood now. You don’t have to worry.”

A small, but sweet smile graced his face. “I always worry.”

“I know, and it’s very touching, but you are going to be late for work.” You brought his lips to yours for a brief kiss. “I made some extra coffee for you to take with you.”

Spence stood and poured some in a travel mug. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell where his mind was at with his next words. “Any interviews today?”

“Do you get this worried when Prentiss talks to inmates?”

He snorted. “Prentiss carries a gun. And you may be scary, Y/N, but I hate to break it to you.” He leaned on the counter. “She’s scarier.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he made too good of a point. “Fair enough. But that doesn’t mean I’m not good at my job.”

“Did I say anything to the contrary?” He held up his hands. “I am your fiance. I’m sorry if you being locked in a room with murderous felons isn’t on my list of things I’m comfortable with.” Spence scarfed down the rest of his breakfast. “I just wish you could be amazing at your job on the other side of bulletproof glass.”

“Right back at you, baby,” you teased. “Now go, get out of here before Aaron chews your ass for being late.”

“Alright, I’m going.” He started for the door but hurried back for one more kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dr. Reid. Go save somebody today.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to.”

When the door closed behind him, you remembered that you had somewhere to be as well.

You managed to get to your office with a few minutes to spare and look over your files before you had to present a study to your boss. The door to your office was open when you got there.

“Y/N,” Dr. Brian Calvin leaned on your desk. “It’s been a while.”

JJ laid the files in front of them and clicked to display the series of photos on the screen. “Georgetown sophomore, Riley Beaumont, was reported missing by her roommate two days ago. Last night, police received this.”

She clicked again, displaying a scanned poster, vandalized with what looked to be lipstick.

A flier for Brian Calvin’s book release, written over with the words:

You owe us.

On the back was a short letter, detailing Riley’s kidnapping and demanding that his book release be stopped. Or she dies.

Spencer accidentally crushed his coffee cup between his long fingers, splashing it over the desk.

“Damnit,” he exclaimed.

Everyone turned and stared.

“S-sorry.”

“Brian Calvin,” Prentiss said. “Why do I know that name?” Her eyes widened, still looking at Spencer. “Wait, like… Y/N’s Brian Calvin.”

“Dr. Calvin is a criminal justice professor at Georgetown.” Hotch stood. He cleared his throat, trying to hide his discomfort behind his usual stoicism. “He has been suspected multiple times for violating the college’s policy on teacher-student relationships, but since no one has ever formally come forward, he’s never been fired.” He glanced at Reid. “Including Y/N.”

“Should we be working this?” Penelope asked. “Isn’t it a kind of conflict of interest if some of us want to hit the guy where the sun doesn’t shine?”

JJ shrugged. “There aren’t any-”

“Other teams available,” Rossi finished with a sigh. He tapped his finger on the desk. “Who knew being so popular was so exhausting?”

“So what’s our game plan here?” Morgan asked.

Hotch turned to the picture on the screen. “First, we meet with Dr. Calvin.”

“And by we, you mean, not you, right?” Dave asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go with JJ to his office. See what he knows.”

Hotch nodded, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

“Don’t want you breaking any more noses just yet.” Rossi gave him a pat on the back and turned to JJ. The two of them headed out.

“You broke this guys’ nose?” Prentiss asked.

Morgan scoffed. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Morgan, Reid, I want the two of you looking into Riley Beaumont’s last known whereabouts before she was taken,” Hotch said. “Prentiss and I will see what we can find out from Y/N.”

Prentiss blinked. “Should Reid-”

“We have to treat this like any other case and he’s more useful elsewhere.” Hotch looked at the younger agent, who reluctantly nodded in agreement. Once Reid left, Hotch lowered his voice and turned to Prentiss. “And Y/N has a harder time hiding things from me. With Reid, she’s…”

“Right,” Prentiss said, understanding.

Everyone knew that, no matter how much the young agent reassured you, you still always wanted to protect him. Old habits, and all of that.

“If she knows something, we’ll find out.”

“Isn’t that a little intense?” Prentiss raised a brow. “Interrogating your own sister?”

“That’s why you’re going to be asking the questions.”

She sighed. “Well, she’s as stubborn as you are, so this will be fun.”

“Prentiss,” he said, “we both know she’s worse.” He gave her a teasing look before glancing back at the screen and frowning at the face of the man who almost killed you.

“So, you want me to, what? Help you figure out who took her? Or speak at your event?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest in a way that felt protective. A part of you just wanted to call security.

“Ideally, both, but I’m mostly here about Riley, of course.”

“You’ve gotten worse at lying, Brian.”

He laughed. God, you hated that laugh. “Yes, the release is very important to me. But would I sacrifice the well-being of a young woman for money?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Your phone buzzed on your desk. Call from Spencer. You ignored it, but Brian didn’t.

“Seeing someone?”

“I’m definitely not going to answer that.” You tucked your hand in your pocket to hide the ring, but then you thought better of it. Let him see it. Let him see how far you’ve come after him. How much better you’re doing.

“You seem to have made quite the life for yourself.” He circled your office. A vulture picking for scraps. “That’s good. Good for you.”

“Is there anything else you want, Brian, because you already have your answer.”

“Y/N,” he chided, “I thought you’d have more compassion. I haven’t heard anything from Riley in days and I’m getting worried. With the nature of your work, I was hoping you’d help.”

“No, you were hoping you’d get a quote for your book,” you spat.

He laughed again.

A knock at the door was a relief until you saw who it was.

Aaron froze in the doorway, Emily peaking in behind him.

Brian took a step back and, subsequently, closer to you. “Agent Hotchner.” For a moment, all of his cocky arrogance faded into a flicker of fear.

It made Emily smirk.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Brian asked, feigning confidence again.

“They’re probably at my office to speak to me.” You motioned for them to come in.

Aaron stuck to the far wall. Emily pushed in behind him, closing the door.

“We actually just sent two agents to your office, Dr. Calvin.”

You kept your eyes on your brother. “This is about Riley, isn’t it?”

“Is she dead?” Brian asked.

“Until she’s found, we have to assume she’s alive,” Emily said. She kept her tone even, professional. “But we believe she has been taken by someone who wants to get back at you, Dr. Calvin.”

“What does that have to do with me?” You let your arms fall to your sides.

“We believe whoever took Riley may have been a student of yours,” Aaron answered, addressing Brian. Then, to you, “We need to know if you know anyone else who may want to prevent this book from coming out.”

You scoffed. “You mean, does he have any enemies other than me?”

“Are you my enemy, Y/N?” Brian pretended to sound offended.

You stepped towards him, trapping him between you and Prentiss. “Stop asking questions you really don’t want me to answer, Brian.”

“Alright, alright.” He cleared his throat to hide his discomfort. “Since you obviously aren’t here for me-” He started to leave, but Aaron stepped in front of the door.

“We’d actually like to talk to you as well, Dr. Calvin.”

“And I am more than willing to do that,” Brian smiled, “once I call my lawyer.”

“Seriously?” You exclaimed.

“Or, Y/N can agree to speak at my gala.” He turned to you, crossing his arms. “Your choice, Miss Y/L/N.”

“It’s doctor.” You and Emily snapped at the same time.

He raised a brow.

“You want to impede a federal investigation for a book sale?” Prentiss asked.

“I’ll do it,” you blurted.

Aaron’s eyes switched over to you, darkening.

“I will make an appearance at the event,” you said. “But I won’t get up on stage and if I’m asked, I’ll tell the truth about how you know about me.”

Brian’s jaw tightened and relaxed. He grinned. “Very well. It’s a deal… doctor.”

“Prentiss,” Hotch said.

She nodded. “Follow me, Dr. Calvin. The other agents will be here to question you soon.” She ushered him out with one hand clenched at her side.

You sat at your desk, running your fingers through your hair.

“That is a bad idea,” Aaron said.

“Riley doesn’t have time for him to hide behind his lawyer.” You checked your phone.

I wanted to make sure you’re okay after this morning. I love you.

You sighed.

“Reid?”

“He saw the invitation from Brian this morning.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That it wasn’t a big deal.” Setting your phone back on your desk, you looked up at him. “Obviously, I didn’t know about this mess.”

Aaron took the seat across from you. “So, what do you know?”

Since the case was local, the meet-up took place at the BAU. Prentiss conducted a formal interview with you at her desk while Hotch kept Dr. Calvin in an interrogation room. The rest of the team arrived in similar states of irritation. Morgan gave you a pat on the arm on his way to talk to Hotch. Rossi went immediately to his office to find out what he could about the hotel where the event was being hosted. Friends in high places and all that.

Reid stood at the glass doors, looking in. He gripped the strap of his bag across his chest.

“What’s that look? I don’t like that look,” Garcia shuffled towards him in her heels and bright purple skirt. “Is he here? Did that creep say something to you?”

“I haven’t seen him yet.” The thought still gave him the jitters and he’d spilled his only cup of coffee.

“Do you think he’ll still go through with it?” She asked. “The party, I mean.”

“Whenever we deal with kidnappers, we never want to just give them what they want,” Reid explained. He sighed. “And from what Y/N’s said about him… I don’t think it would matter anyway.”

He gave her a thin-lipped smile and pushed open the door.

Your eyes found his as soon as he walked in, his gaze asking if you were okay. You nodded and answered Emily’s question, trying to focus back on her.

“No, I haven’t spoken to him since I found out about the book.” Rubbing the back of your neck, you shifted in your seat. Even though you knew this place, you knew her, you’d never be comfortable being interviewed. “I kind of made a point to avoid anything to do with him.”

“So you wouldn’t know if he saw other women after you? Other students?”

You scoffed. “He saw them before me, why not after?”

Spence sat at his desk, just across from where Emily was talking to you.

“Do you know anyone who would want to stop this book from coming out?”

You shook your head, exhaling slowly, shakily. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help more. But I haven’t had any contact with him since I was a teenager.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Emily reached a hand to hold yours. Guilt was starting to weigh on you and she could see it. “We’re going to figure this out.” She gripped your hand a little tighter before standing up to talk to your brother.

Spencer was beside you in seconds.

“I didn’t know, this morning, I swear,” you said.

His brows drew together. “I know.”

“If I could tell you anything that would help find this girl, you know I would, right?” Your voice trembled along with your bottom lip. “I wouldn’t hide any-” You sucked in a breath.

He laid a hand on your cheek.

“This isn’t your fault, Y/N.”

“I-”

He slid his chair even closer, knees brushing yours as he looked deep into your eyes. “It isn’t.”

You looked over his shoulder where Brian was coming out of the room.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed off.” You swallowed hard and tried to give your fiance a reassuring smile. “Thanks, Spence.” Running your fingers through his hair, you let every strand slip by your skin, down to his shoulder. “Your hair has gotten long.”

“Do you think I should cut it?”

You shrugged. You liked it however it was.

Brian’s phone rang. You watched his face fall and you knew.

“It’s her.”

The kidnapper’s demands changed.

A public apology. At the gala. In front of everyone.

And you.

“I don’t think you should do this,” Aaron said, straightening his tie. You’d found him getting ready in one of the station’s offices.

“Yeah, well, I already bought the dress so you’re stuck with me.”

If the team was going to blend in, then they had to go with the dress code. Black tie, formal gowns, the whole deal. You felt like a Barbie, dressed up by an over-enthusiastic child in a floor-length, one-strapped, lavender gown.

“We are giving the unsub what they want. You know that isn’t going to help.”

You snorted. “If the unsub wants an apology from Brian Calvin, they’re going to be waiting a long time to get it.”

“You don’t think he’ll bend to the demands?”

“Do you?”

Aaron inhaled. He shook his head.

You fixed his tie again.

“Good. Then let’s go.”

You both walked back out into the station where the rest of the team waited in formal attire of their own. JJ and Emily wore fine dresses, silver and red respectively. Even Derek had put on a tux.

“Alright, everyone, let’s go over this again,” Aaron started, addressing the team and the police alike. “There will be officers at every entrance to the building checking the guests coming in, but there’s a chance the unsub is already inside. They will be there tonight. They feel that Dr. Calvin owes them this. They will want to hear it first hand.�� He motioned for you to step forward. “Dr. Y/L/N cannot leave anyone’s sight. She might not be the direct target, but she is a vital part of the unsub’s desire to see Dr. Calvin pay for the harm they believe he’s inflicted on them.”

“Keep an eye out for a young woman, early twenties,” Dave said. “She’ll be distressed, jumpy. And she’ll want to get as close to Dr. Calvin as possible.”

Your head snapped to Spencer. They hadn’t told you that part.

“Dr. Y/L/N will be entering in the back accompanied by Dr. Reid while I address the press that will likely be swarming the front,” Aaron added. He knew if he gave them at least himself as the sacrificial lamb, maybe they wouldn’t hound you.

As the officers and team were dismissed, you leaned over to your brother, both of you heading for the door.

“How do you know it’s a young woman?”

He frowned, eyes dark. “We think she may have had a relationship with Brian.”

“Like me,” you said, understanding. “That’s why she wants me there.”

“She sees you as a mirror of herself. There’s a chance she’ll try to reason with you, to make you see her side.” He put a hand on your arm. “If she approaches you, find one of us immediately, do you understand?”

“Stay away from Brian’s kidnapping ex, got it.”

You gathered up the skirt of your dress to keep from tripping on the fabric as you climbed into the SUV. Spencer got in the driver’s seat.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

You rubbed the silky material between your fingers. “No.” You leaned your head back in the headrest and sighed. “I hate how much he’s gotten away with. How much hurt can he put into the world that it pushes someone to do something like this?”

Spencer’s eyes softened, laying a hand on yours.

“People will see him for who he really is.”

“And what about these women? One is so messed up because of him that she took this girl. And now, Riley will never be the same. Who knows what she’s gone through because of all of this?” You blinked back frustrated tears. Spencer’s hand moved to your cheek.

“Come here,” he said softly, pulling you to him. His kiss brought you back to the moment and let the tension in your shoulders relax, at least for a little while. When he parted from you, he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it out. And so will they.” He tucked a hair behind your ear. “You look beautiful by the way.”

You rolled your eyes but managed to smile. “Just drive to the hotel, Romeo.”

He pulled away from the curb with his fingers tight around the steering wheel.

While Aaron battled the media circus out front, Spencer snuck you in through the back, just as you all had planned. Guests were already piling into the ballroom, waiting to get a glimpse of the famed subject of Brian’s book. All you saw was the same crowds that hounded you when you were a teenager.

You froze in the doorway, your dress suddenly feeling like a vise, constricting any breath from reaching your lungs.

Spence felt your hand tug on his when you stopped. He held it a little tighter.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Just keep looking at me. Focus on me, okay?”

You still remained in the door. He brought your hand to his lips. The musicians began. Spence gently pulled you into the room and, sticking to the edge of the floor to keep you away from the swarm, started to dance. Spencer held you close and swayed to the tune of the band’s first song.

“Oh my god it’s her,” someone said.

“That’s Lydia Y/L/N’s daughter, the one the book’s about.”

You flinched.

Spencer put a finger under your chin. “Just keep looking at me.”

He took a breath.

You took a breath.

He smiled.

You managed to smile back.

As the rest of the guests filed in, so did the rest of the team. Prentiss found you first, but hung back. She watched you and Reid dance, focused solely on each other. Morgan caught up with her and she put a hand on his arm to stop him from interrupting.

“What?” He asked.

She grinned. “Look.”

Both agents observed from the edge of the room as you and Reid were slowly joined by other couples taking to the floor.

“I can’t believe they’re getting married,” Prentiss said.

Derek chuckled. “They grow up so fast.”

“No, I mean-” she rolled her eyes, nudging him. “After everything they’ve been through, there they are. Still standing. Still together. How many cases have we worked where tragedy drives people apart?”

He thought for a moment. “I guess they aren’t just people. It’s Y/N and Reid.” He hooked an arm through hers. “If anyone could do it, it’s them. Come on. We should start looking.”

Listening to the music, and looking at Spencer, you could almost forget everything. Almost.

“Are you thinking about her?” He asked, noticing the shift in your expression.

“Actually, no.” It was almost funny, how it came to mind now. “I just thought about that case. From about a month ago? The one from Ashburn that turned into all the parents coming to the BAU.”

“Roger and Anita Roycewood, I remember.” Spencer’s brows furrowed. “What made you think of them?”

“Not so much them, I guess.” You pulled back in step with the song and returned to him with a spin. “I think it’s all of this. When I was with Brian, everything was always about what I couldn’t have. I’d never have a normal family to go back to for winter break. Any relationship I had would be tainted with my mother’s fears. And I could never have kids myself, because I wouldn’t be able to handle it and I’d break just like she did.” Saying it felt like a weight lifted from you, but also made it harder to breathe. “He convinced me that I needed him. That I was damaged goods.” Laying your hands on his chest, you looked into his eyes. “But he was wrong. About all of it.”

Spence gave you a small smile and kissed your lips gently. Suddenly, he froze, your words sinking in.

“Wait, do you mean-”

The shriek of feedback interrupted him.

Brian stood on the small stage on the far side of the room. “Good evening everybody.”

The music lulled to a stop and the crowd stood still. Your hand slipped down to hold Spencer’s, gripping tightly.

“First, I want to thank you all for being here. It really warms my heart that this book- this project that has been a major part of my life for so many years, in so many ways-” His eyes fell to you. “Has received so much support.”

Hotch remained stoic, but Rossi knew him better.

“You know, his nose is still crooked, don’t you think?” Dave said.

Aaron didn’t react. “She should be here.”

“She’s a vengeance-seeking, kidnapping woman in the middle of a severe breakdown,” Dave shrugged. “She might have just lost track of time.”

Brian continued. “I won’t stand up here, just talking about myself though. No, tonight I have a very special guest with me. This person is not only the inspiration for this story, but also a dear personal friend.”

You clung to Spencer like he was the one thing keeping you from spinning out into the chaos that surrounded you. Despite Brian’s taunting, both of you stayed on alert, watching for anything out of place. Somewhere here was a woman who’d been hurt by the same man who almost destroyed you. She was desperate for someone to understand her.

“A-are you Y/N?” A small voice wavered, so quiet you almost didn’t hear her.

Spence turned first and pushed himself in front of you.

“Riley Beaumont?”

A young girl held her coat closed, arms crossed over her chest, and eyes red with tears.

“I need y-your help.”

“Y/N, why don’t you come up here?” Brian announced, grinning.

A bright light landed on you just as Riley’s coat fell open, revealing the vest beneath.

“Oh my god.”

The crowd erupted in gasps and applause, none of them noticing the pale figure in front of you. Their sick excitement fueled every clap, like spectators, waiting to watch the lion devour its victim. But you stared at the flashing lights strapped beneath the jacket of a terrified young woman.

Riley’s lip trembled. “Please.”

Spencer spoke into the piece on his shoulder.

“Hotch, Riley Beaumont is here,” he said. “She’s standing in front of me…she has a bomb.”

The claps died down into confusion.

“Alright, Y/N, don’t be shy,” Brian said, voice getting impatient. “Come on up here.”

“She said if you go up there, she’ll-” Riley’s voice hitched in a sob. “Please don’t leave me.”

You stepped forward and took her hand.

“Y/N, don’t-” Spence tried to pull you back, but you stayed.

“I’m not going anywhere, Riley.”

“If you’ll all give me just a moment.” Brian walked off stage calmly, then stormed through the crowd towards you. “What the hell are you-” His eyes widened. “Oh my god.”

“Dr. Calvin, stay back,” Spencer said.

“She’s insane, Brian gasped.

“If you aren’t going to be helpful, you should probably get out of here,” you hissed, still holding Riley’s hand.

“Hotch, we need to clear this crowd.” Spencer, still holding onto your arm, swallowed hard as he looked around the room.

People were starting to notice.

“Please help me,” Riley cried. “I-I just want to go home.”

“Riley, sweetheart, I’m so sorry this is happening,” Brian said.

“To her or to you?” You snapped before you could stop yourself.

Brian’s gaze shifted to yours slowly with an anger you remembered well. Any time you embarrassed him in front of a colleague or said something about his research, that was the look he’d give you. And, at the time, it always made you shrink back in line.

But you’d faced far worse than him.

“I don’t really think we want to get into this now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re right.” You turned away from him, from Spencer’s panicking looks. “You need to get out of here. Both of you.”

“What? No,” Spencer said.

Brian, however, was already pushing back through the now retreating crowd.

“Go find Aaron. Get everyone out of here.” You tried not to wince through the iron grip Riley kept on your hand, nearly crushing.

“Y/N, I am a federal agent on this case, I’m not going to leave two civilians alone with a possible explosive.”

“Are you really pulling the fed card right now?”

Spencer’s eyes widened and his voice went up an octave. “Yes!”

You exhaled, letting your annoyance distract you from the fact that you were staring down a bomb.

“Riley, is there anything you can tell me about the woman who brought you here?” Spence asked. He stood as close to you as possible, an arm around your waist like he was ready to pull you away.

Riley sniffed, trying to think. “She just kept saying she was sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Spencer asked.

“She said she didn’t want to hurt me. That Brian had done that enough, but I don’t understand. Why does she hate him so much?” She choked back another sob. “I want to go home.”

You lowered your voice for only Spencer to hear. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“She could just be trying to reassure her so she wouldn’t resist.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes, getting a closer look at the vest.

At the other side of the ballroom, Hotch fought through the rush of gowns and overpriced suits stampeding for the door.

“Great, it’s you,” Dr. Calvin said, grabbing him by the arm. “Get me out of here.”

Hotch pulled away, trying to see over the waves of panicked faces. “Where is Dr. Reid and Y/N?”

“This bitch is after me, isn’t she? Isn’t it your job to stop her from killing me?”

“It’s my job to make sure everyone in here is safe.” He clenched his jaw, took a breath, and turned. “But you’re right. We need to get you somewhere secure.”

Brian almost sighed with relief. “Thank God.”

Hotch resisted the urge to roll his eyes and focused on the matter at hand. “Reid, where are you?”

No answer.

His chest tightened.

“Reid.”

Spencer stared intently at the vest beneath Riley’s coat. You did the same, taking in every flashing light, every pocket that seemed full of a dangerous substance. But looking closer…

“Are those Christmas lights?” You asked.

Spencer pressed his earpiece. “It’s a decoy.”

“What?” Multiple voices responded.

“The bomb is a fake. It’s a diversion.”

Hotch snapped his head back to Dr. Calvin, who was scrambling towards the exit. People swarmed around him, all dressed in ostentatious attire better fit for a medieval ball than a book release. All but one. Hotch spotted the hooded figure just as they pulled out a gun.

“Dr. Calvin!” He shouted.

The shot went off just after Prentiss jerked the figure’s arm up, aiming the pistol at the ceiling. People screamed and ran faster towards the exits. Little pieces of plaster floated down like snow.

“Let me go!” A woman screamed. She thrashed in Prentiss’ grip, fighting to get the gun back on her target. “You don’t know what he’s done! Let me go!”

The hood fell to reveal a young woman and the lump in Hotch’s throat grew. She was younger than you, tears streaking down her face from wild, devastated eyes.

“Reid, we’ve found her.”

Spencer carefully opened Riley’s coat and flipped the switch that turned off the lights on the vest. The girl collapsed into your arms in a huddle of sobs and you did your best to hold her upright.

“We need a medic,” Spence said.

“Thank you,” Riley bawled. “Thank you.”

Once Riley was taken care of, you made your way back to the team, where Mary Anne Simons waited in the back of a police car, mascara running down her face. When you saw her, you froze.

“I know her,” you whispered.

JJ stood next to you, Spence having to give a report on the false bomb. “What?”

“She was in classes with me, a year or so younger. I had no idea Brian and her-” Your voice caught in your throat. “She was such a sweet kid. Why would she do this?”

JJ looked down.

Your stomach dropped.

“What did he do?”

She cleared her throat, eyes softening when they met yours. “There’s a video.” She continued even as your face fell. “Apparently, it circulated around some website and her face was visible in it and-” JJ put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re going to make sure she gets help, Y/N.”

You ran a shaky hand down your face and nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

JJ opened her mouth to say something else, but she can’t seem to find the words. So, instead, she pulled you into a hug.

You breathed through a quiet cry, keeping your tears at bay solely for Riley’s benefit. The poor girl looked scared enough as it was, sitting in the back of the ambulance, waiting for her parents to arrive and take her home.

“Well, this certainly didn’t go the way I had hoped,” Brian said. “But it’ll make one hell of a story.”

You tensed in JJ’s embrace and turned slowly.

“And I’m sure you’ll find the right audience for it,” you said through a tight smile. “Someplace else.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/N, sweetie,” he smiled. “I’m actually planning on another book I’d love your help with.” Brian held up his hands in an arch. “No Tears for the Reaper.”

“Dr. Calvin, maybe you should-” JJ tried to deescalate, but he kept going.

“It’s fascinating, you know.” Brian leaned against the hood of the police car where the woman who’d tried to kill him just moments ago now sat within. “It’s like you’re a magnet for this, Y/N. Cursed with serial killers. Or maybe it’s your brother.” He shrugged like he was discussing golf rather than the deaths of dozens. “I’ve been wondering. Your nephew, Jack. Was he there when his mother got blown to hell?”

It happened fast. So fast, you didn’t realize it was happening until the pain spread down from your knuckles, shooting like lightning up your arm. But the moment your fist collided with Brian’s face, it seemed all of the commotion around you stopped.

“Oh sh-” JJ rushed to grab you as you readied another hit.

“Will that work for your story, you washed-up, talentless, two-faced bastard!” You screamed.

“You little bitch.” Brian started towards you but was stopped by a strong arm.

“I don’t think so, pal,” Derek growled. He yanked Brian’s arm behind his back.

“What are you doing? She’s the one you should be after. Look what she did to my nose.” Brian whined, spitting out the blood that had leaked from his twice-broken nose into his mouth. “I’m the victim here! That crazy woman almost shot me, and now this one attacked me for no reason!”

Spencer walked towards you all, hands in his pockets and a furious smile gracing his lips. “There’s something you should know about Mary Anne, Dr. Calvin. She was a prodigy before she met you. Top of her class. Brilliant. Graduated high school early so she could get a jump start on a promising career in psychology.” He leaned forward. “She was seventeen.”

“Brian Calvin, you are under arrest for the production and distribution of child pornography and statutory rape.” Derek grabbed his other arm, wrenching it back to cuff his wrists.

“What?” Brian’s eyes widened. “She told me she was eighteen. I didn’t know. I swear.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Emily added. “And right now, that might be in your best interests, professor.”

As Derek and Emily dragged the kicking man off, you turned to your fiance with shock and a sore hand.

“Is that true?”

Spence nodded. “He’d better hope this book money can buy him a good lawyer.” He took his hand out of his pocket and laid a gentle touch on your arm. “Are you okay?”

“She’s going to need an icepick for that right hook.” Derek sauntered back toward you, grinning. “That’s my girl.”

“Remind me why I saved that guy to begin with?” Emily muttered.

Hotch finished talking to the local authorities and rejoined the team, looking as stern as ever.

“We’re finished here,” he said. “We should get moving before the media circus starts.” His eyes met yours.

You nodded.

On your way back to your car, he leaned over. “Nice hit.”

You smirked. “Learned from the best.”

Spencer came out of the shower with steam billowing out after him. He found you sitting on the bed, nursing your bruising hand with a package of frozen Brussels sprouts.

“Does it hurt?” He asked gently, taking a seat beside you, still running the towel over his wet hair.

You shrugged. “It was worth it.”

He took the bag from you, bringing your hand into his so he could examine it. Nothing too serious, thankfully. His hold lingered, eyes lifted to yours.

“Are you okay?”

You blew out a breath. “Spence-”

“You just stood next to a ticking bomb and held on like it was nothing,” he said.

“It wasn’t a real bomb.”

“That isn’t the point.”

Laying your head on his shoulder, you breathed in the scent of his shampoo. Apple, mixed with his usual smell of ink and old books. You clung to it.

“I’m okay, Spencer.” You turned your head to kiss his shoulder. “And I will talk about it. I’ll talk about all of it. About Brian. About Mary Anne. About the book.” Looking into his face, you ran a thumb over his bottom lip with a sigh. “But I don’t want to talk now.”

The parting of your lips answered the questions in his head.

Spencer nodded slowly and, careful of your hand, laid you back onto the bed, arms wrapping around you as you turned off the light.

#criminal minds imagines #spencer reid x reader #dr. spencer reid #david rossi #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #the in betweens

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

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Stitches: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel comes into the clinic after getting hurt on the job. A non-canon one shot set in the Lavender universe.

^Gif not representative of reader's appearance, just here for the vibes.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author to be paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender, QZ era

Warnings: Brief description of injury. Angst. Smut (P in V sex). No use of Y/N, Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4k

A/N: Sooooo this one got a little away from me (shocking, I know.) I can't promise all of this collection will be this long but apparently I really missed Joel and Doc. Written for @suzmagine after she requested QZ era Joel and Doc with angst and smut :)

For You Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sunday, September 20, 2015

“I’ve got one more for you,” Marta hovered outside the patient room, a file folder in her hands.

You groaned.

“Another one?” You asked. “Shouldn’t we be done for the day by now? Shouldn’t we have been done for the day an hour ago?”

“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” she replied. “I’m the one who’s been pulling double duty all day because Andrew’s out…”

“And I’m the one who’s had twice the patient load because the entire QZ has the flu,” you sighed before you pinched the bridge of your nose. This wasn’t helping either of you. “Alright, just… Please tell me this is the last one.”

“Last one,” she said. “Doors are locked.”

“Speakeasy after this?” You asked, opening the folder.

“I would but Brian and I are going to a friend’s place tonight,” she smiled, almost sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I just need to get a life….” You glanced down at the intake notes. Just stitches and antibiotics, on order from FEDRA. “This looks basic, why don’t you head on out. I can finish up here.”

“Really?” She asked. You just nodded and she squealed a little. “Thank you so much!”

You tried to not be jealous of the fact that she had a life to go home to. In all reality, you shouldn’t be upset about staying late at work. It’s not like you had anything else going on. Once Tommy left the QZ and Andrew and Jess started spending more time just the two of them while she was down for the count because of her pregnancy, you pretty much spent your time not at work at home, doing a lot of nothing.

“I need a hobby,” you muttered to yourself before making your way down to the exam room where your last patient was waiting for you.

You knocked once on the door and gave the patient a moment to answer before you opened it, reviewing the intake notes as you did.

“Hi there,” you said, looking up from the file. “I’m….”

Your voice trailed off. Joel was sitting there, perched on the end of the exam table, his eyes ranging over you.

“Don’t think you need to introduce yourself, Kid,” he said, giving you a wry half smile.

You looked back at the file. In the name field was just J.M. - FEDRA. You frowned and looked back at him.

“FEDRA sent you in?” You set the file down on the counter before going to wash your hands. “Why, did you pick a fight with a guard?”

“No,” he quirked his jaw. “Just some equipment on sewer duty.”

“Lucky you,” you said, pulling your chair up beside the table. You sat down, closer to him than you’d been since you’d been almost blown up before Tommy left the QZ. “Well, I’m sure you’d rather see anybody else but I’m afraid there’s something going around and I’m the only doctor who’s here right now. Since you’re here on FEDRA orders, I can’t really let you leave and come back another time…”

“S’fine,” he cut you off. “It’s not… I don’t mind. That it’s you, I mean.”

“Oh,” you said, a little taken aback. You tried to hide it as you pulled on your gloves. “Well that’s… good. Why don’t take off your shirt, looks like the injury is on your stomach?”

“Yeah,” he said, unbuttoning his top. “They put a bandage on me there but said I’d need stitches and shit to keep it from gettin’ infected.”

“Yeah, I feel like dying from an infection that doesn’t turn people into monsters in this day and age is a bit of a raw deal.”

Joel snorted and shrugged out of the shirt. You saw a bandage, stained with blood, near his belly button. You winced a little, even though you’d seen so much of Joel’s blood at this point you thought you should be used to it. But it never got any easier, knowing he was putting himself at risk, knowing he was in pain.

Blood was a good distraction, though, when you thought about it. Joel without his shirt had always been a weak spot for you. Blood was one way to keep you from focusing on things you shouldn’t. Like the fact that his chest was broad and firm and you knew just what it would be to rest your head against him there and listen to the steady thrum of his heart as you fell asleep.

“I’m going to remove the bandage, OK?” You said, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He just gave you a single nod and you pulled down the bundle of gauze and tape to expose a jagged cut that dipped into the muscle of his abdomen. You hissed a little in sympathetic pain. “What’d you do, Joel?”

“Had to jump to dodge an out of control truck,” he said. “Ended up landin’ on something sharp. Hurt like a bitch but… had worse.”

“Had worse is a damn low bar for you,” you said, gingerly examining the wound. “Good news is, this is even cleaner than I expected. Actually, you’re cleaner than I expected, you don’t smell like you were on sewer duty.”

“Yeah, well, figured patchin’ me up wouldn’t do much if I was covered in shit,” he said, voice beaten down by the misery that was QZ life. It was a tone you knew well. “Showered before I came.”

You nodded slowly.

“I’ll numb you up and get this all closed,” you said, sitting back from him. “Go ahead and lie back for me while I get set up.”

You gathered what you needed and came back to find Joel flat on the table, his hands folded over the base of his chest. The cracked face of the watch glinted in the florescent light and you tried not to think about how his arms looked bare. You hadn’t seen his arms bare in so long.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair back up alongside him and changed gloves.

“Small poke,” you said as you injected the local anesthetic. He grunted but stayed still. You gave it a few minutes to kick in before you gently prodded the wound. “Feel that?”

“No,” he said.

You nodded and set to work, flushing out the wound and aligning his damaged skin to stitch it closed.

“So,” you said after the silence was heavy in the room. “How’ve you been since Tommy left?”

His body tensed a little.

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just a bit quiet around the apartment.”

You nodded slowly, focusing on your stitching.

“I hope you’re not just sitting in there all alone,” you said, half teasing half serious. “Even you need social contact now and then.”

“M’fine.”

There was something in his tone that made you feel like he was not, in fact, fine. As much as you tried to forget, you carried so much of the intimacies of Joel Miller within you. How he looked when his face was relaxed in sleep, how he felt when he held you like you were the only thing he had left in the world, how he sounded when he was in pain. He sounded that way now.

“Are you?” You asked, lifting your eyes from his stomach to look up his body to his face. His head was raised just enough to look back at you.

“Not your damn business what I am or what I’m not,” he snapped, lowering his head back to the exam table. “Leave it.”

“I’m just…” you paused as you finished the last stitch. “I worry about you sometimes is all. I know you don’t have a lot of people, Joel, and…”

“I’m not your fuckin’ problem,” he bit out, sitting up so fast that you shocked back from him. “I don’t need you pokin’ around my life and fuckin’ it up anymore than you already have so just leave it, alright!”

“Alright,” you said quietly, tears pinching at the back of your throat.

“You done sewin’ me shut?” He snapped. You nodded, still trying to resist the urge to cry. “Good.”

He snatched his shirt up and stalked out of the room, not even stopping to put it on.

You took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the place where Joel had just been. You tried not to think about how, for just a few minutes, there had been a quiet intimacy there like there had been with him before. How he felt comfortable and safe beside you, where you could run your fingers over his skin and see where his hair was starting to gray.

You gave yourself a few minutes to calm down before you started cleaning up, trying to focus on getting home so you could curl up in a ball in your bed where you were warm and safe, even if you were alone. You were starting to clear the tray of tools when you realized the syringe of penicillin was still there, shiny and full.

You’d never given him the antibiotics.

“Shit,” you muttered, voice wet.

You set it aside and finished cleaning up before grabbing a bottle of pain killers and an oral course of antibiotics and setting out to Joel’s place.

He answered quickly, all but ripping the door open and looking surprised to find you there when he did.

“What do you want,” he snapped.

“You still need antibiotics,” you said quietly, fighting to not flinch back from him. You held up the small bag with the syringe, bandages and pills inside. “You left before I could give them to you.”

He quirked his jaw but stepped aside, opening the door wide enough for you to come in. You set the bag down on the table and started taking off your coat.

“Didn’t say you could fuckin’ stay,” Joel said, voice still sharp.

“I figured you’d want me having full range of motion with my arms when I’m sticking you with a needle,” you said harshly before closing your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to calm down. “I need to get at the wound again so… shirt off.”

He ground his teeth but obeyed, pulling the shirt off. You sat down at the table and got the syringe ready and he stood beside you there and you had the strangest urge to kiss his stomach. You pressed your lips together instead.

“If you didn’t run off this would probably hurt less,” you said. “But the anesthetic might be wearing off already so… small pinch.”

You pressed the syringe into his skin and pushed down on the plunger. He flinched once and that was it.

“Just going to bandage you up,” you said, not waiting for a response.

“Why’d you come here,” Joel asked as you taped the bandage over his damaged skin. You looked up at him, frowning. His eyes were on yours, deep and warm and chocolate brown.

“You needed…”

“Don’t give me that,” he cut you off. “You could have fuckin’ left it, told you enough times that I don’t want shit to do with you now so why are you really here? Not like FEDRA was gonna come and check and make sure I was on their ordered drugs so what is it?”

“Do you really think I’d just let something happen to you?” You asked quietly. “You might not care if I live or die anymore but I care about you. I’m always going to care about you.”

You didn’t wait for.a response. You looked back to his stomach and finished taping the bandage in place before taking the pills out and setting them on table before getting up and pulling your jacket back on.

“Instructions are on the bottles,” you said. “Take all the antibiotics, every last one, I don’t care if you’re feeling well and your cut is magically healed, still take them. Change out the bandages every 24 hours for the first few days, come by the clinic if there’s a lot of blood or discomfort. Pain medication as needed. I’m sure you’ll just sell whatever’s left…”

You grabbed the now empty bag off the table and turned to go to the door but Joel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back around. You frowned, looking at where he was touching you before looking back to him.

“Joel…”

“You really think I don’t care about you?” He asked, voice heated. “You really think I don’t give a shit? Hm?”

You shrank back from him as much as you could while he held you in place, his grip on you tight.

“Joel…” you said again but he cut you off.

“You think I don’t care if you live or die?” It took you a moment to realize that he didn’t sound angry. He sounded… hurt? Offended? Both? “Jesus…”

“You’re hurting me, Joel.”

He scowled but dropped your wrist.

“After everything I’ve done,” he snapped. “After everything we’ve been through, you think I don’t fuckin’ care?”

“Why would I think you care?” You tried to sound mad but you just sounded hurt, your voice quivering. “All you’ve done for years now is tell me how I hurt you, how you wish you’d never met me, how you don’t want to see me again! Even when you’ve done something that you say is for me or because of me you act like your obligated to me in some way but you’re not and I wish you’d just leave me alone! I can’t keep doing this with you, I’m so tired of being your burden, Joel!”

You tried to turn to go but his hands were on you again but on your shoulders this time, his fingers digging into your flesh there. His eyes searched yours for half a moment before he pulled you sharply to him, his hands flying from your shoulders to your face to tilt your head to just the right angle, gripping you tight and desperate, before his lips crashed into your own.

It took you a second to fully understand what was happening but your body responded before your mind. It might have been years since you last kissed Joel but your lips knew his. They conformed to his like the familiar ground they were, giving to the hot press of him as he licked into your mouth.

You moaned and wrapped your arms around his waist, forgetting, for a moment, that he was injured. He hissed in pain and you tried to pull back but his grip on you grew tighter, fingertips pressing into your skull. Your body curved against his and you were suddenly acutely aware that he was shirtless, that you could feel his skin on yours if you could just take your own shirt off, too.

His hold on you eventually loosened and he pulled back from you, the brown of his iris almost entirely swallowed by his pupil now as he panted for breath. His thumbs traced the arch of your cheekbones.

“I care,” he said, voice hungry and low. “I care more about you than about any other person left on this godforsaken planet…”

“Joel…” you were breathless, heat and tension pooling at your core.

“And I’m tired of tryin’ to stay away from you.”

He pulled you back against him, gently that time. His lips were soft on yours, his tongue tracing the seam of you until you opened for him. You could properly taste him now, the mint of his toothpaste and the bitter tang of liquor and the familiar flavor of his skin. You drank it up, needing it like water. His hands left your face, sliding down your body to your waist. He pulled at your shirt, separating from you just enough to pull it up and over your head, taking a moment to look down at your body, an expression of almost reverence on his face as he panted for breath.

Joel tugged you toward him again, his mouth quickly finding yours, as he unhooked your bra. He slid that off your body, too, and cradled you to him.

You moaned into his mouth, you couldn’t help it, as your arms went around his neck. His skin was everywhere, so soft and so warm and just like you remembered. He felt so good against you, like home, and the ache of missing him flared to life inside your chest, sharp and cruel.

Part of you knew you should put a stop to this now, before it went any further. He was only going to push you away again, just like he had after Boston. It was only going to hollow you out and leave you feeling more desperately alone than ever.

But you couldn’t resist him. You’d missed him too much over the years, he was too much a part of you to ever dream of pushing him away. You needed this. You needed him.

You let him guide you toward the couch, his fingers prying at the button of your jeans before pushing those and your underwear down your body, too. You stepped out of them and your shoes together before Joel gently lowered you, completely bared to him, to the rough, aging fabric of the couch. You watched as he stood over you, your eyes wide, as he opened his own pants, freeing his cock and swiping his thumb over his leaking tip before stroking himself in long, slow strokes.

“Tell me you want this,” his voice trembled. “We can stop right now…”

“I need you,” you cut him off with a needy whisper. “Please.”

He didn’t need any more prompting. He shoved his pants and underwear down before he nudged your legs apart and settled between them. He gripped the root of his thick, heavy cock and trailed his tip over your leaking slit, moaning as he did.

“Missed this wet little pussy,” he notched his head at your entrance before thrusting halfway inside you with a short, sharp stroke. You gasped at the stretch of him, your back arching and fingers scrambling at the tattered upholstery. “Fuck, still so fuckin’ tight. Gotta be fuckin’ dripping for me or I’d never get inside you…”

He pulled back just a little, his thumb finding your clit and pressing into you there, working you in a slow circle. He thrust back into you, a little further this time.

“You get this soft and hot and wet for anyone else?” He asked, a possessive edge to his voice as his eyes ranged over your naked body. “Or you save that just for me?”

“Just for you,” you didn’t care that you sounded desperate and pathetic. You just needed him inside of you, filling you totally. “It’s all for you, I’ve always been all for you.”

“You all mine, Baby?” He asked, pulling back and thrusting deeper. “This little pussy all mine?”

“Yes,” you rocked your hips up against him but he pressed down on you, holding you in place and making you whimper. “Fuck, please…”

“How about the rest of you?” He asked, his hand leaving your clit as he lowered himself onto you. His skin was on yours, the plush swell of his stomach against you, his chest tight to your own. His hand came up to brush your hair back and cradle the crown of your head, his thumb tracing over you there. His eyes searched yours and, for the first time in years, you saw the Joel you’d fallen in love with so long ago. The quiet strength of him, the gentle care, the fierce love, the raw and aching whole of him there with nothing holding him back. “Want all of you, want that so much more than your perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

“Joel…”

“Say you’re mine,” he thrust deeper and you keened at the feel of him inside you, so close to having all of him within you where you’d known he belonged from the first time you’d taken him into yourself. “Tell me I’m not gonna lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you breathed. “I promise, you can’t lose me.”

He pulled back a little and you whimpered at the loss.

“Say you’ll let me protect you,” he thrust in, almost to the root this time, and held himself there. Your channel tightened around him.

“Joel,” you were having a hard time remembering how to say anything but his name, that single word the most vital one you’d ever known. “Please…”

“Tell me,” he ground himself against you, his skin on your clit, his cock pressing into your most sensitive places. “Let me take care of you, protect you. Say it.”

“You can protect me,” your hands found their way to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin there. “You can take care of me, I promise…”

“Let me love you,” he pulled back again but it was his words and not how he was moving inside you that made you gasp. “Say it. Tell me I can love you, that it’s safe to love you.”

You reached up and gently traced his hairline before threading your fingers through his curls, your eyes on his.

“I haven’t been the one stopping you from loving me,” you whispered.

“I never stopped,” he rocked himself part way into you again before pulling back. “Always loved you, always. But I need it to be safe, I can’t love you without it destroyin’ me if it’s not. Please, baby. Tell me. Tell me I can love you.”

“You can love me, Joel,” you said softly. “It’s safe. I’m safe.”

He kissed you, his mouth claiming yours and he pressed all the way inside you then, making your back arch and legs go tight around his hips. You moaned against his lips as he held himself deep within you for a moment before pulling back again.

It might have been years but your body knew Joel’s. You knew just how to take him and he knew just how to make you come, his hips grinding down into you when he was fully seated inside of your tight channel, making his cock tease your most tender places while his hips worked your clit. He fucked you deep and hard and greedy, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he wanted to lay claim to all of you.

The tight band of pleasure inside of you wound tighter and tighter until it snapped when he was pressed deep, your walls fluttering over him. He moaned against your lips and fucked you through it, never slowing, never letting up, making it so your orgasm never really subsided. It just rolled into building the next one until he pulled his desperate and needy mouth from yours.

“Not gonna last, Baby,” he ground himself deeper, as if to make his point. “Where -”

“Inside me,” you panted. “I need to feel you, please don’t leave, please, inside me, please…”

He kissed you again, fucking you a little harder and faster, driving the band of pleasure tighter and higher until you felt him press deep and pulse inside you, triggering your next orgasm.

You came with him, your pussy rippling over him as he throbbed, emptying himself into you.

His body went slack for a moment before he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes returning to their normal color. They looked over your face for a moment before locking onto your own and you had a moment of fear that the walls would go up again. That the cold, disconnected Joel who had taken over since he’d come to the QZ would be back. But his eyes stayed soft and open and warm, his large palm still cradling the top of your head.

“Tell me you meant all that,” you whispered even though you were afraid of what the answer was.

“Oh, Baby.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead before trailing his nose over your own. “I meant every word. I promise.”

You smiled, looking into Joel’s eyes and realizing that, even though you were still stuck inside the QZ, you were right where you belonged.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #lavender #smut fic #For You

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part one)

(This is part one; part two is here.)

I am objectively very bad at visual art. I am bad at vision, period – I'm astigmatic, shortsighted, color blind, and often miss visual details others see. I can't even draw a stick-figure. To top things off, I have cataracts in both eyes and my book publishing/touring schedule is so intense that I keep having to reschedule the surgeries. But despite my vast visual deficits, I thoroughly enjoy making collages for this blog.

For many years now – decades – I've been illustrating my blog posts by mixing public domain and Creative Commons art with work that I can make a good fair use case for. As bad as art as I may be, all this practice has paid off. Call it unseemly, but I think I'm turning out some terrific illustrations – not all the time, but often enough.

Last year, I rounded up my best art of the year:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

And I liked reflecting on the year's art so much, I decided I'd do it again. Be sure to scroll to the bottom for some downloadables – freely usable images that I painstakingly cut up with the lasso tool in The Gimp.

The original AD&D hardcover cover art is seared into my psyche. For several years, there were few images I looked at so closely as these. When Hasbro pulled some world-beatingly sleazy stuff with the Open Gaming License, I knew just how to mod Dave Trampier's 'Eve Of Moloch' from the cover of the Players' Handbook. Thankfully, bigger nerds than me have identified all the fonts in the image, making the remix a doddle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

Even though I don't keep logs or collect any analytics, I can say with confidence that "Tiktok's Enshittification" was the most popular thing I published on Pluralistic this year. I mixed some public domain Brother's Grimm art, mixed with a classic caricature of Boss Tweed, and some very cheesy royalty-free/open access influencer graphics. One gingerbread cottage social media trap, coming up:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

To illustrate the idea of overcoming walking-the-plank fear (as a metaphor for writing when it feels like you suck) I mixed public domain stock of a plank, a high building and legs, along with a procedurally generated Matrix "code waterfall" and a vertiginous spiral ganked from a Heinz Bunse photo of a German office lobby.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

Finding a tasteful way to illustrate a story about Johnson & Johnson losing a court case after it spent a generation tricking women into dusting their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talcum was a challenge. The tulip (featured in many public domain images) was a natural starting point. I mixed it with Jesse Wagstaff's image of a Burning Man dust-storm and Mike Mozart's shelf-shot of a J&J talcum bottle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

"Google's Chatbot Panic" is about Google's long history of being stampeded into doing stupid things because its competitors are doing them. Once it was Yahoo, now it's Bing. Tenniel's Tweedle Dee and Dum were a good starting point. I mixed in one of several Humpty Dumpty editorial cartoon images from 19th century political coverage that I painstakingly cut out with the lasso tool on a long plane-ride. This is one of my favorite Humpties, I just love the little 19th C businessmen trying to keep him from falling! I finished it off with HAL 9000's glowing red eye, my standard 'this is about AI' image, which I got from Cryteria's CC-licensed SVG.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

Though I started writing about Luddites in my January, 2022 Locus column, 2023 was the Year of the Luddite, thanks to Brian Merchant's outstanding Blood In the Machine:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen

When it came time to illustrate "Gig Work Is the Opposite of Steampunk," I found a public domain weaver's loft, and put one of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes in the window. Magpie Killjoy's Steampunk Magazine poster, 'Love the Machine, Hate the Factory,' completed the look.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/12/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk/

For the "small, non-profit school" that got used as an excuse to bail out Silicon Valley Bank, I brought back Humpty Dumpty, mixing him with a Hogwartsian castle, a brick wall texture, and an ornate, gilded frame. I love how this one came out. This Humpty was made for the SVB bailout.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/23/small-nonprofit-school/#north-country-school

The RESTRICT Act would have federally banned Tiktok – a proposal that was both technically unworkable and unconstitutional. I found an early 20th century editorial cartoon depicting Uncle Sam behind a fortress wall that was keeping a downtrodden refugee family out of America. I got rid of most of the family, giving the dad a Tiktok logo head, and I put Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes over each cannonmouth. Three Boss Tweed moneybag-head caricatures, adorned with Big Tech logos, rounded it out.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/30/tik-tok-tow/#good-politics-for-electoral-victories

When Flickr took decisive action to purge the copyleft trolls who'd been abusing its platform, I knew I wanted to illustrate this with Lucifer being cast out of heaven, and the very best one of those comes from John Milton, who is conveniently well in the public domain. The Flickr logo suggested a bicolored streaming-light-of-heaven motif that just made it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/01/pixsynnussija/#pilkunnussija

Old mainframe ads are a great source of stock for a "Computer Says No" image. And Congress being a public building, there are lots of federal (and hence public domain) images of its facade.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/04/cbo-says-no/#wealth-tax

When I wrote about the Clarence Thomas/Harlan Crow bribery scandal, it was easy to find Mr. Kjetil Ree's great image of the Supreme Court building. Thomas being a federal judge, it was easy to find a government photo of his head, but it's impossible to find an image of him in robes at a decent resolution. Luckily, there are tons of other federal judges who've been photographed in their robes! Boss Tweed with the dollar-sign head was a great stand-in for Harlan Crow (no one knows what he looks like anyway). Gilding Thomas's robes was a simple matter of superimposing a gold texture and twiddling with the layers.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/06/clarence-thomas/#harlan-crow

"Gig apps trap reverse centaurs in wage-stealing Skinner boxes" is one of my best titles. This is the post where I introduce the idea of "twiddling" as part of the theory of enshittification, and explain how it relates to "reverse centaurs" – people who assist machines, rather than the other way around. Finding a CC licensed modular synth was much harder than I thought, but I found Stephen Drake's image and stitched it into a mandala. Cutting out the horse's head for the reverse centaur was a lot of work (manes are a huuuuge pain in the ass), but I love how his head sits on the public domain high-viz-wearing warehouse worker's body I cut up (thanks, OSHA!). Seeing as this is an horrors-of-automation story, Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes make an appearance.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Rockefeller's greatest contribution to our culture was inspiring many excellent unflattering caricatures. The IWW's many-fists-turning-into-one-fist image made it easy to have the collective might of workers toppling the original robber-baron.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

I link to this post explaining how to make good Mastodon threads at least once a week, so it's a good thing the graphic turned out so well. Close-cropping the threads from a public domain yarn tangle worked out great. Eugen Rochko's Mastodon logo was and is the only Affero-licensed image ever to appear on Pluralistic.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/16/how-to-make-the-least-worst-mastodon-threads/

I spent hours on the sofa one night painstakingly cutting up and reassembling the cover art from a science fiction pulp. I have a folder full of color-corrected, high-rez scans from an 18th century anatomy textbook, and the cross-section head-and-brain is the best of the lot.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/04/analytical-democratic-theory/#epistocratic-delusions

Those old French anatomical drawings are an endless source of delight to me. Take one cross-sectioned noggin, mix in an old PC mainboard, and a vector art illo of a virtuous cycle with some of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes and you've got a great illustration of Google's brain-worms.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

Ireland's privacy regulator is but a plaything in Big Tech's hand, but it's goddamned hard to find an open-access Garda car. I manually dressed some public domain car art in Garda livery, painstakingly tracing it over the panels. The (public domain) baby's knit cap really hides the seams from replacing the baby's head with HAL9000's eye.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

Naked-guy-in-a-barrel bankruptcy images feel like something you can find in an old Collier's or Punch, but I came up snake-eyes and ended up frankensteining a naked body into a barrel for the George Washington crest on the Washington State flag. It came out well, but harvesting the body parts from old muscle-beach photos left George with some really big guns. I tried five different pairs of suspenders here before just drawing in black polyhedrons with little grey dots for rivets.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

Illustrating Amazon's dominance over the EU coulda been easy – just stick Amazon 'A's in place of the yellow stars that form a ring on the EU flag. So I decided to riff on Plutarch's Alexander, out of lands to conquer. Rama's statue legs were nice and high-rez. I had my choice of public domain ruin images, though it was harder thank expected to find a good Amazon box as a plinth for those broken-off legs.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

God help me, I could not stop playing with this image of a demon-haunted IoT car. All those reflections! The knife sticking out of the steering wheel, the multiple Munsch 'Scream'ers, etc etc. The more I patchked with it, the better it got, though. This one's a banger.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

To depict a "data-driven dictatorship," I ganked elements of heavily beribboned Russian military dress uniforms, replacing the head with HAL9000's eye. I turned the foreground into the crowds from the Nuremberg rallies and filled the sky with Matrix code waterfall.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/26/dictators-dilemma/#garbage-in-garbage-out-garbage-back-in

The best thing about analogizing DRM to demonic possession is the wealth of medieval artwork to choose from . This one comes from the 11th century 'Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros.' I mixed in the shiny red Tesla (working those reflections!), and a Tesla charger to make my point.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

Yet more dividends from those old French anatomical plates: a flayed skull, a detached jaw, a quack electronic gadget, a Wachowski code waterfall and some HAL 9000 eyes and you've got a truly unsettling image of machine-compelled speech.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

I had no idea this would work out so well, but daaaamn, crossfading between a Wachowski code waterfall and a motherboard behind a roiling thundercloud is dank af.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/03/there-is-no-cloud/#only-other-peoples-computers

Of all the turkeys-voting-for-Christmas self-owns conservative culture warriors fall for, few can rival the "banning junk fees is woke" hustle. Slap a US-flag Punisher logo on and old-time card imprinter, add a GOP logo to a red credit-card blank, and then throw in a rustic barn countertop and you've got a junk-fee extracter fit for the Cracker Barrel.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Putting the Verizon logo on the Hinderberg was an obvious gambit (even if I did have to mess with the flames a lot), but the cutout of Paul Marcarelli as the 'can you hear me now?' guy, desaturated and contrast-matched, made it sing.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/10/smartest-guys-in-the-room/#can-you-hear-me-now

Note to self: Tux the Penguin is really easy to source in free/open formats! He looks great with HAL9000 eyes.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

Rockwell's self-portrait image is a classic; that made it a natural for a HAL9000-style remix about AI art. I put a bunch of time into chopping and remixing Rockwell's signature to give it that AI look, and added as many fingers as would fit on each hand.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)

#pluralistic #illustration #collage #fair use #creative commons #stock art #blogging #art #practice makes perfect

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luveax · 5 days ago

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Favorite

~~~~~

One Shot | Pornstar!Hoodie x Fem!Reader | Smut 18+

Say my name, I want the neighbors to hear it Want your body to feel it Boy you know if there's a heaven, Im near it Yeah I promise my dear Its only you who has my body and heals it

Warning(s): You know why you're here don't PMO

~~~~~

You honestly and truly couldn’t believe it. Your heart was racing so hard you were sure it was going to pop right out of your chest. This wasn't you. You leave work and go home. You don't go out, and you certainly do accept a date from. Your. Insanely. Hot. Neighbor. Who also may or may not be a pornstar. That you watch. Every night. By yourself... But here you found yourself sitting across from him at dimly lit fancy restaurant that you were sure you were underdressed for. Brain had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room. He has this aura to him that sucked you right in. Maybe it was his playful grin or teasing glances that kept you immersed in his being all night long. From the first awkward moment you met, when you tripped trying to bring your boxes inside when you finally what about him look familiar. That damn hoodie. The pale yellow is what caught your attention. You remembered every patch, curve, thread of it from your hours of watching his videos. His playful laugh and the way his hand brushed yours when he grabbed the box from you. He jokingly thanked you for being a fan. His flirty a wink and carefree attitude had you completely down bad. He was confident, a little cocky but maybe that was him just being open about what he wanted. As the night went on, your nerves started to fade instead replaced by a certain hunger you hadn’t expected.

"Good girl. Look how well that pretty throat takes my dick." You could only look up and nod, making eye contact with the hand held camera he held angled down at you. Your mask covering your face so only the camera can see is your eyes and mouth that is currently wrapped around Brians- oh sorry Hoodie's cock. You had to remember to only call him by his Camera name when he was filming you. But fuck it was hard to thing when this man was around. The way he took control and dominated the scene was just unworldly.

"There you go keep taking that shit" Only when you felt light headed did he let you off to breathe. Your body shaking as you tried to inhale.

"Calm down. This is what you wanted right?" He asked condescendingly. You nodded. He gripped your hair in a fist and pushed you onto your hands and knees. He caressed your ass before landing a hard smack on it.

"Oh fuck" you cries out in pain even though you felt yourself dripping down your thigh.

"Can I have a taste pretty girl" you nod. When you look back at him you can see him prop the camera up to get a good angle. He lifts his mask up just enough to uncover his mouth and dives right in. Your head falling onto the pillow in front of you.

"B-Hoodie oh my god, fuck yes" your voice mumbles from the pillow. You can hear the sucking and slurping and he just intensifies the experience tenfold.

You couldn't control the sounds coming out of your body as Hoodie drilled you into the mattress. You attempted to push him away just bit so you can relive some of the pressure but he smacked your hands away.

"Fucking ungrateful, I take you out to eat, pay for your meal, bring you home, eat your pussy and now you can't even take my dick. Fucking worthless." he rants while progressively pounding into you harder and harder.

"mm sorry" you gasp out, your eyes rolling back. You felt completely used and disgusting. It felt great you couldn't help the smile that made its way on your face as his thrusting continued.

"oh what's this? I think I might've caught myself a crazy one. You like pain? Huh wanna be my little pain slut" he cockily ask.

"Wouldn't have it any other way" you barley make out.

"Good because I'm not stopping till you pass out and even then I might keep going. It's gonna be along night." And god you hoped he kept his word.

~~~~~

This was 100% lazy writing hope you like regardless. Bai! - Lu

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ofmdrecaps · 3 months ago

Text

12/27-31/2024 Daily OFMD Recap Part 2

TLDR; David Fane & Rachel House; Anapela Polata'ivao; Connor Barrett & Brian Gattas; Dominic Burgess; Damien Gerard; Christopher Corbin; Adopt Our Crew Lists; Articles; Fan Spotlight: Tiny Crew Big Raffle w/Lindsey Cantrell Interview and BTS; Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Love Notes;

Continuation of Part 1

= David Fane & Rachel House =

Are you in Aotearoa and want to show your support to the Maori people? Our dear Fang, David Fane (and Mary Reed, Rachel House) shared how to's on how to make a submission on the Treaty Principles Bill. Check out more at Koekoeaa's Instagram!

Source: David Fane's instagram

= Anapela Polata'ivao =

Anapela was out at PerthFest with other members of the Tinā film!

Source: Anapela's IG Stories

= Conner Barrett & Brian Gattas =

Our Hornberry and Siegfried are out and about with friends for the holidays!

Source: Brian Gattas Instagram Stories

= Dominic Burgess=

Dominic, aka Jeffrey Fettering, aka the cat-content king of social media is back with more cats!

Source: Dominic's Bsky

= Damien Gerard =

Our Father Teach is on vacation for the holidays and he sent so much love our way!

Source: Damien's Bsky

= Christopher Corbin =

So you may remember, our "We Could have Made Magic" Pirate, Christopher Corbin played santa in a an NFL ad recently. He posted the progression from Chris to Kris Kringle, and I just had to share it because it made me giggle!

Source: Christopher Corbin's instagram

== Adopt Our Crew ==

Our absolutely awesome fan crew, @adoptourcrew put together some lists regarding our dear show, and it looks like 30 different articles featured OFMD as one of the worst cancellations of 2024!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

They also put together a list of the Select 2024 Media Mentions! OFMD averaged at least one media mention per week! Holy cow!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

== Articles ==

Thank you to @adoptourcrew as always for the many articles OFMD has been featured in recently!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Tiny Crew Big Raffle =

In honor of the Tiny Boats raffle, the @ofmd-buys-boats team had an Interview with our dear Set Dresser, Lindsey Cantrell! You can read the full thing on their substack-- here's a sneak preview!

They were kind enough to let me share the info here as well!

"Amy: What was your favourite set to dress? Linds: What a hard question. The favorite that first comes to mind is John Bartholomew's Captain's Quarters. The scene where Zheng Yi Sao leads a raid on Bartholomew's ship, and then convinces him to join her crew. The day we were going to shoot this scene was pulled up in the schedule, so during a few lunches and a few private rehearsals, I was brought over to the unfinished set to get my opinion on the status of its dress. What to add, where to move items, take away, etc. And it needed to get done quickly. We were pulling dressing from all over. Production Designer Ra and Art Director Troy really wanted it to be layered. They were discussing someone who'd lived in that space for ages. Our Set Dec team left the bones of it in a good place, but on the day we went to shoot it, we still scrambled a bit throwing items together for more chaos (some good ideas, some bad- ie: a stool ended up on top of a dresser?) I still love the way the lighting was shot through those windows and how it all came together. Plus, didn't that charcuterie look delicious?"

Source: OMFD Buys Boats Instagram

"Amy: Speaking of the tiny boats, we’d be remiss if we didn’t ask about them too - how did you make them and how long did it take you? I can testify from making repairs to our broken ones that they’re fiddly little things! Linds: Yes they are! The strain on my eyes that week! The bases of these tiny ships are custom lead molds created in the Propmakers Workshop. Next, painted and aged brown. Then, one by one I stabilized them and carefully drilled one tiny hole in the semi-center of each ship's base. Hoping each time that I didn't push too hard or for too long, potentially breaking through to the bottom. So I held my breath and got through all of that step. Off to the side, I had the makings for the tiny flags. I painted and aged what felt like a million toothpicks to start. Trimming off the bottoms of one end so they would sit flat inside my pre-drilled hole. I cut the different pieces of construction paper in a tiny triangle with one flat end, and put a line of glue on that side to place underneath a toothpick and rolled it over to hold. Some bits of my fingertips are definitely attached to the glue inside those tricky little flags. When my deadline was getting closer, I started to just begin placing the dried flags inside the bases the next day. Until I found some of them falling over by the time I came back from lunch. So then I realized I needed to add one tiny drop of super glue into the hole first. The final precise measure was making sure when I held the flag down to attach, that I was holding it straight up & down. Sounds easy enough, but if you're only looking at one side, you may be pushing the flag down and away. So if you check your other angles afterward, you'd notice it's leaning to that opposite side, as if the tiny ship is in a storm, someone told me. [...]"

Source: OFMD Buys Boats Instagram

Once again-- for the whole interview and additional BTS please check out their substack! Thank you so much @ofmd-buys-boats for not only giving us this wonderful gift but allowing me to share some of them as well!

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

Our friends over at Our Flag Means Fanfiction are looking for more co-hosts!

"Everyone is always invited to be a part of the podcast! Here are 3 ways you can be involved (if you can think of more ways, definitely share them!) 1) Narrate a fic for a minisode! Just get the author's permission first then e-mail the audiofile (mp3 or wav) to [email protected]. Everything you send in, I will put it on the pod. 2) Want to be on an upcoming episode? Just DM here or send an email and consider yourself included the next time we record. 3) Have a group of friends and want to make your own episode? Do that! Just make your own podcast episode using zoom then send the audiofile to [email protected] and I'll edit it (remove all the pauses, ums, and anything else you want cut out). This is an all-inclusive, open-source, podcast. Everyone who wants to be involved, can be! #ofmd#ourflagmeansdeath#fanfiction"

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

The next Gay Pirate News Hour airs on Jan 4, you can check it out on the Our Flag Means Fanfiction Youtube!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

== Love Notes ==

I really am so sorry I'm so behind lovelies. I hope you all had a wonderful and restful holiday season. I'm going to share a few extra love notes tonight because I've seen some really lovely stuff the last many many days -- and I have so much to say and haven't had a way to do so.

The first I wanted to share is from TheLatestKate with the message I most want to send to all of you. This year has been a hell of a time, and you have no idea how very grateful I am that you were here to share it with me and so many others, and still are.

Source: The Latest Kate's Instagram

Life can be so damn hard and sometimes it feels like you just aren't making any progress... or your impact isn't as big as you want it to be.

I wanted to remind you though that the earth spins at 1000 miles per hour (1,600 km/hr), that's 24,000 miles per day (38625 km/day)... but sitting on it, it doesn't seem to be moving at all. Now look at it from space, and you can see it rotating, you can see the light of the sun reflecting off of it. You can see all the lights on the dark side, and the clouds, and the winds, and vastness of the oceans. That's what I see in you. That's what others see in you. We can see all the wonderful things you are, and how brightly you shine because we aren't living it second to second like you are. So please believe me when I say this-- you are capable of anything, and you are doing SO DAMN WELL despite this crazy life.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Katie Abey ☀️Angela Sandland 🧚🏻 spirituality and creativity (@happinessenchanters)

instagram

Source: Katie Abey's Instagram

Our Pirate Queen shared this one (I couldn't remember if I'd shared it before, but here it is again if so!). Your softness, your creativity, all of that is your strength and I will die on that hill.

Source: Ruibo's Instagram Stories / HopeHealingArts Instagram

Lastly, I just wanted to say thank you for being a part of this little community called the OFMD fandom. This crew is phenomenal, and it has brought out so much love and healing in me (and so many of us) this past year. You are beyond a doubt some of the kindest, most badass people on the planet, and I am so very happy I get to share what little bits of time I can with you. I am slow to respond to things right now because of how crazy life is, but please know I'm here if you need me. I want so very much to see you succeed, and grow, and bloom in this crazy messed up world we live in. You are the change, and the softness this world needs, and I believe whole heartedly that each time you are kind to someone, you emit a wave of change that makes the world a better place. Rest up lovelies. Happy New Year <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by bailey (@anxiety.positive)

instagram

Source: Anxiety Positive's Instagram

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talkingaboutwhatiwant · 3 months ago

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Y'all know that scene in Hannibal (TV) where Mad's does his cutesie little "God kills people" bit? I noticed when I was reading The Red Dragon that it uses direct quotes HOWEVER. it's a little different and I want to talk about it.

Naturally the tones are different as in the show the two are talking face to face in a therapy session, and in the book it's just a letter Graham receives.

Let's compare

Script: Hannibal: I am. It wasn’t the act of killing Hobbs that got you down, was it? Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?

Will: I liked killing Hobbs.

Hannibal: Killing must feel good to God too. He does it all the time. And are we not created in his image?

Will: That depends who you ask.

Hannibal: God’s terrific. He dropped a church roof on 34 of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn.

Will: And did God feel good about that?

Hannibal: He felt powerful.

Book: (skipping the beginning of the letter bc irrelevant) I want to help you, Will, and I'd like to start by asking you this: when you were so depressed after you shot Mr. Garret Jacob Hobbs to death, it wasn't the act that got you down, was it? Really, didn't you feel so bad because killing him felt so good? Think about it, but don't worry about it. Why shouldn't it feel good? It must feel good to God- He does it all the time, and are we not made in His image? You may have noticed in the paper yesterday, God dropped a church roof on thirty-four of His worshippers in Texas Wednesday night- just as they were grovelling through a hymn. Don't you think that felt good? Thirty-four. He'd let you have Hobbs. He got 160 Filipinos in one plane crash last week- He'll let you have measly Hobbs. He won't begrudge you one measly murder. Two now. That's all right. Watch the papers. God always stays ahead. Best, Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

I like the letter version better, partially because it's longer, but also because Lecter doesn't have any persona on, he's already in prison after all, so he speaks his mind. He also has no need to let Will come to his own conclusions or be gentle with him. Honestly if I could choose one thing to show people to convince them to read The Red Dragon, it'd be that letter. It's so YUMMY. omg.

I'd also like to note that someone on tiktok once referred to Fuller's Hannibal as fanfic of the books and now I can't stop thinking about it. Down to direct quotes being used. "It smells like something with a ship on the bottle" BRIAN COME ON MAN

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #silence of the lambs #the red dragon #brian fuller #hugh dancy #mads mikkelsen #garret jacob hobbs

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residentlexx · 1 day ago

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Kate the chaser one shots pls pls 🙏🙏🙏

ᴋᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀsᴇʀ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I may or may not have just seen this shhhhh.....

First time doing a one shot so like.. This may be doodoo 🤧💔

You sigh at the sound of the front door closing, the boys had a mission today. You couldn't forget. Toby seemed quite excited about it, Tim complained about the younger man's eagerness to you while you two were seated outside. One of the rare occasions one of you speak the entirely of your shared time outside, both of you bond over the quiet time spent beside each other with your sketchbook and pencil in hand and his cigarette lit. You got used to the smoke real quick.

You turn in your bed for the 500th time in the past couple hours, you can't seem to fall asleep tonight. Is Kate up? She is home, right? Your growing hungry. A snack at.... Three in the morning shouldn't hurt. You swing your legs out from under the warm covers, the cold air reaching your bare legs. You hug your sweatshirt closer to your body, jeez its freezing in here.

Rolling your shoulders and popping your neck, you quietly make your way out your door and down the hall, incase the other woman is asleep. The light of the television reaches your sight as you make it to the stairs, your "co-worker" occupying the couch, eyes glued to her phone. The creaking of the steps alerts the woman, her head snapping in your direction. She smiles slightly, greeting you. "Hey, (name), what are you doing up?"

You plop down next to her by the time she finishes speaking. You sigh deeply, whining to her about your trouble sleeping. She chuckles, turning her phone off. "What are you doing up?" The tiredness in your voice is clear, you curse yourself for the way you sound. "Just working on a report for the last mission, didn't finish till the boys were about to leave so I decided to just stay up, wasn't really tired anyway." She shrugs. You remember that mission, wasn't to long ago. You hate that it's called that, the dirty work you do for that... Thing.

You 'aah' in response, yawning. You feel Kate's gaze on you, watching you.

Not that either of you would ever admit it, but, you've grown close.

Very close.

The occasion brushes against eachother, ones almost too purposefully. You glances you each steal towards the other, growing flustered when you both do it at the same time and make eye contact. When your training is too intimate to be considered normal behavior between two friends.

But she doesn't like you in that way.

She can't, your just friends. Yeah.

You certainly aren't attracted to her like that.

Or at all for that matter!

Too deep in thought, you don't notice your exhaustion beginning to catch up to you, your head beginning to droop. Your eyes growing heavier by the second. Kate notices, though. She watches you fondly as you succumb to sleep and your head falls on to her shoulder.

She can't help but smile.

Content, Kate puts her phone down next to her, resting her head on your own and falling asleep herself,

Her hand intertwining with yours.

- - - - - - -

Tim sighs as he steps through the front door. The faint voices of Toby and Brian outside, chatting about the mission, if you could even call it that. He runs a hand through his dark hair, glad to be home. He hears that the tv is on, betting it's Kate who's up, your never up at nine in the morning, "too early!" you always claim. Stepping into the living room, he's met with a sight he never thought he'd see. You cuddled up to Kate, your head in the crook of her neck and her arms wrapped around you. The older man chuckes, snapping a picture to torture you both with later on.

He's known you both shared feelings for the other, for awhile actually. He's caught glimpses of the other girl being drawn in your sketchbook, ranging from doodles to more detailed drawings. He always smiled to himself.

In conversations he has with Kate, everytime your name is brought up there's a slight change in her demeanor, a good change. She seems perkier, it's cute. He never teased either of you, as tempting as it was. He told Brian, of course, but not Toby. That rat can't keep his mouth shut.

Speak of the devil... A loud exclamation coming from behind the thicker man startles him a bit.

"HOLY SH-SHIT THEY'RE IN LOVE!"

#creepypasta #ticci toby #kate the chaser #creepypasta x reader #tim wright #brian thomas #hoodie marble hornets #masky marble hornets #kate the chaser x reader #creepypasta oneshot #oneshot

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evanpercy · 5 months ago

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The Couch in S8 and how it will tie to buddie canon, a 9-1-1 analysis

First of all, I'd like to say that this theory is based solely on observations made by myself and others, on camera and lighting choices which, as we all know, are always very important in a TV show. I'm NOT going over the previous couch theory from s6, 1. because I don't have the time and 2. because everything has already been said (Buck falling asleep on Eddie's couch because it's the only place he feels safe, Chris falling asleep in the same place, yada yada).

Next, this theory is going to be pretty much chronological, but I may be getting a little ahead of myself at times, sorry. In the end, you'll see, it makes sense, but I'm also asking you for a bit of imagination.

Let's dive into it!

Everything begins in 8x01. We get a scene between Buck, Tommy and Eddie, who are organizing a birthday party for Chris over a facecall. Eddie's couch makes its first appearance this season: Eddie sits on it to call Chris, and Buck and Tommy hide behind it.

Buck and Tommy share a moment. It's cute to see Buck so comfortable in his relationship and his attraction. Well, Tommy is awkward but, are you surprised? (no) As Eddie starts the call, Buck and Tommy jump from behind the couch and we get the first frame interesting enough for this analysis.

What can we say? Eddie is alone on the couch, Buck on his left and Tommy on his right.

(Eddie is once again between Buck and Tommy. In all their scenes together, there's always someone in between the other two. That's not the point here but I love to point it out.)

Buck isn't with Eddie, he's standing behind the couch. It's acting like a physical separation. Buck can only watch Eddie's pain from a distance as the call goes on, and he is useless. Powerless.

That will be the case throughout the early part of this season.

Buck doesn't do anything about Chris and Eddie. Why? I still don't know to be honest with you.

Eddie doesn't talk to Buck about Chris at all. They don't share a single scene alone in the privacy of one of their homes. There's always someone with them - Tommy, the rest of the crew - or they're at the station. Eddie will talk about Chris to Hen, Bobby, the cheerleader's father, Father Brian, even Brad in 8x08. NEVER Buck.

There's also something interesting about the fact that Eddie and Buck don't really talk to each other until Tommy breaks up with Buck.

It's probably not conscious, but I really think Buck is actually distracted by Tommy. He's in this new relationship, it's good, it's cute, it's really different from what he's used to.

We'll see that this will eventually go away...

(A quick interlude: Of course this isn't the first time we've seen 3 people with the couch. It also happened with Buck, Eddie and Chris in S3 - yeah, when couch theory wasn't even a thing. They're on Buck's couch though, but I'm planting a seed in your mind, watch out...)

Next time, it's not Eddie's couch we're talking about, but Buck's. It appears in 8x05, when Buck is sitting in his armchair after returning from the hospital and Tommy is looking after him. There's a lot to say in this scene, but I'm going to focus on one or two things.

Episode 5 was shot after episode 6. I can't stressed out how much it's hit after hit to show us that Buck and Tommy are not staying together (and indeed, Tommy breaks up in 8x06). I imagine the writers ran with the opportunity to show just how incompatible and how physically separated Buck and Tommy are, as well as drawing many parallels between Tommy and Eddie. Maybe I'll talk about that someday.

In this frame, Buck and Tommy are separated. Buck is sleeping in the armchair and Tommy on the couch. I know it's better to sleep in a sitting position when you've dislocated a shoulder, but they could have had Buck sleeping in his bed, snug in his pillows, Tommy next to him.

They didn't.

They made Tommy sleep on the couch. Buck's uncomfortable couch. The one I think he bought with Natalia (if I'm wrong, please don't hate me, season 6 is far in the back of my mind).

See, Tommy doesn't even fit properly on the couch. He's got his head on the armrest and he doesn't have a blanket that covers him completely. He doesn't fit into Buck's life, no matter how hard he tries. He's always out of place.

He chooses the couch Buck doesn't like, and he'll be the only one in this season so far to use it. He's comfortable on it and can sleep, something Buck has never been able to do. Buck will never choose this couch, even if he thinks it's the right choice.

(By the way, Oliver said in an interview literally released before episode 8 that Buck's couch is uncomfortable.... Thanks for that, I know you're a couch theory truther Oliver.)

Next couch, 8x06. Eddie's Risky Business moment.

He dances in his living room and jumps on his couch twice. The first time to recreate the scene. The second time, he chooses to lie down on the couch to bask in the euphoria a little longer. Eddie has his first moment of pure joy in years, and it's on the couch that he decides to settle and calm down. Not saying too much about it but I wanted to point it out, once again.

Where it gets interesting, you know it, is when Buck arrives. Buck, who's just been dumped and once again goes to Eddie for a little comfort. He hands Eddie a beer and sits down first on the couch to drink his own.

Let's take a look at this last frame. The framing ticked me off as soon as I saw it, but I couldn't put my finger on why. Now, I know.

Eddie and Buck are sitting side by side, yes, but! If you pay close attention, you can see several things.

First, Buck appears completely in the frame, from shoulder to shoulder. He takes up most of the space, sitting upright on the couch, staring straight ahead.

On the other side, Eddie leans against the backrest, but in doing so, he moves out of frame. The arm and hand holding the beer are totally offscreen. He's looking to the side, not at Buck.

It's already a weird composition, a very pointed choice, because why aren't they both clearly visible in the frame? Why is Eddie a little off the side? This could have been filmed in a slightly less close-up shot, to show them both fully, but it's not. It's clearly a choice.

Let me direct your attention to the wall behind them. You'll see, it's interesting.

Between them, but rather on Eddie's side, what can we see? A picture. Yeah, but not a random one. You can see it more clearly on this frame of Eddie.

Yep. It's an art of Texas. Quite ugly if you ask me. (Eddie, you're clearly making some strange choices when it comes to decorating.)

I won't try to analyze this framework any further, as you've already understood what I'm getting at if you've been paying attention.

It's a foreshadowing of Eddie leaving for Texas.

So we got Eddie leaning away from Buck, a Texas pic on the wall between them, while Buck is just here, choosing Eddie's couch (and Eddie) for comfort after his breakup. It's where he feels safe. Eddie is always here for him when he's not okay, he's his constant. See how the colors are warm, golden? It screams safe. It screams home.

They don't need to talk, they have each other... or so he thinks. Sorry Buck.

Let's move on to 8x08. Where it all makes sense.

Very quickly: Eddie isn't making his call to Chris on the couch, but on his coffee table. First, what the hell? It's weird, unless you think he considers the couch a nice place, and that this conversation will be far from nice in his head. Indeed, he was right.

Buck shows up at Eddie's after baking way too much bread, because he almost called Tommy. By the way, the mere fact that he decided to go to Eddie's to stop himself from doing so speaks volumes as fucking always, but let's not get into that.

(Look at his little basket, his bread all wrapped up. Buck, you're everything.)

When he realizes that Eddie is seriously thinking of moving to El Paso... well, he supports him. He supports him, because that's what a best friend is supposed to do, right? He suggests to Eddie, and I quote, “we should move this party to the couch”.

By the way, this is the first time he's explicitly brought the couch to Eddie. And we know that when a character mentions something for the first time when they never did, it's to emphasize it.

It's the same with Eddie saying he's straight… or when he says “we?” after Buck's suggestion. They are in this together, and it's what Eddie realizes when Buck goes to sit on the couch... He doesn't have to do all that alone. (Take that little side analysis, my treat. I fucking love this scene, I want to dissect it.)

Buck sits on this couch he's chosen many times over the years.

It's THE couch, the one he always goes to when something is not right in his life. After he died, when he couldn't sleep at home. After his breakup.

He's the first to sit on it ... yes, just like in 8x06.

(This may seem trivial, of course, but the fact that he always goes without waiting for Eddie... Imo, it screams “Buck will figure it all out first and Eddie will have to catch up with him later”. Or "Buck will be waiting for Eddie". Same with him already drinking his beer while Eddie struggles to open it. Maybe a bit far-fetched, but eh? Anyway.)

The setting of the scene is so cold, and I didn't realize it until I compared it with the other scenes on the couch. This creates quite a contrast.

(Sorry I need to talk about something. Let's open an analysis in the analysis.

Buck is dressed in blue - it's Eddie's color in the color theory - while Eddie is dressed in a brownish button down. When I first watched this scene last night, I didn't notice, but looking again… Don't these outfits remind you of anything?

Yeah. I know, they're not the same, but they're similar and it's enough for me to make the parallel. Buck was there for Eddie when Chris left, and he's now here for him when Eddie wants to move to Texas.

Something about "I love you, so I'm letting you go". I'm crying too, don't worry.)

Back to the couch.

Eddie is totally off-screen, he's gone compared to the last time we saw the couch. Buck is alone, something shifts on his face - I'm not gonna lie, it was like watching a fanfic from AO3 on my screen. I've read enough feelings realization to recognize something close. Okay, to be fair, I don't know if it's a total realization of his feelings, but it's a start... and how beautiful that it's happening on Eddie's couch.

The couch represents safety, love, family for Buck. We understood it in s6 when it was first brought up.

By sitting on it, Buck chooses this life with Eddie, in a way.

Can you see the frame with the Texas pic? It's now completely visible, in the frame. It's behind Buck, over his shoulder. Eddie's departure, and by extension Texas, will haunt Buck for a long time to come.

I have to say, this shot is incredible. The whole scene is. I want to play it again and again, I want it tattooed on my eyelids. I'm gonna think about it for 3 months.

In a few episodes, we've gone from Buck behind the couch - away from Eddie's problems - to Buck on the couch, alone - totally there and available for Eddie, even though Eddie soon won't be.

After the breakup, Buck can finally talk to Eddie, care about him - not that he didn't before that, but he's finally free to throw himself back into his relationship with his best friend as before.

Buck has found his home, his couch, the relationship he's most comfortable in, but maybe it's only now, when Eddie's about to leave, that he realizes it.

The couch was never about Eddie - it was always about Buck and his relationship with him. So it's even more powerful to see him behind it in 8x01, on it with Eddie in 8x06 and finally all alone in 8x08.

(I didn't know Oliver confirmed the symbolism of the couch back in S6 but, once again, thank you Oliver.)

(Even if Tim Minear tries to say he doesn't know what it means... Please Tim, we know you're smarter than that).

So what can we expect from this couch for the rest of the season?

If Eddie is really leaving, which I don't believe, he might offer Buck his couch. If the couch is how Buck will realize that he has feelings for Eddie, I'm going to send a gift to everyone who's believed this theory since it first appeared. You're the real ones in this fandom.

If Eddie stays, I think we'll be getting more scenes with the couch. We could go from 3-2-1 to 1-2-3. Stay with me, and grab your imagination. We're going full in theory mode.

1 - Maybe we could have another scene, this time with Eddie alone on his couch? I could see this happening when he's packing, Buck not far away, and Eddie starts to wonder if this is really the right thing to do as his gaze lingers on Buck for a moment too long.

2 - We need two people on that couch again. I'm a big "Buddie first kiss in Eddie's kitchen" truther, but it could also happen on the couch.

Or they could have a big conversation together on it, that will eventually lead them to confess their feelings to each other later on. Maybe that's when Eddie decides to fight to get his son back, to not move to Texas? To confront his parents?

That's two scenes on the couch, two scenes where they don't really talk, even though the couch is an invitation to do so. I'd find it extremely interesting if their first real serious conversation this season took place here.

3 - Finally, we could go from Buck, Eddie and Tommy to something much better for a 3-characters scene on the couch, a configuration we've seen before: Buck, Chris and Eddie. It could even be the last scene of the season, and that wouldn't surprise me at all!

Just imagine: Buck and Eddie have confessed their feelings to each other, maybe Chris knows, maybe not. The three of them end up on this famous couch. Chris is in the middle, and Buck and Eddie look at each other over him, a smile on their lips.

Everything is fine, they've survived the end of the season disaster, Chris is back, they've finally found each other after years...

What an incredible parallel this would make with the beginning of the season! Where Buck was with Tommy, Chris away from his dad, Eddie depressed...

There, they could finally be happy on the damn couch. I have a very clear vision of this scene and I hope they make it a reality. We need our little Buckley-Diaz family together again. With buddie canon of course.

That's it, you've reached the end of this analysis-theory. I hope you enjoyed it. It took me 3 hours to write and I got lost in other theories, but hey! I had fun.

We're entering a 3-month hiatus so let's try to be kind to each other! Let's share our theories, fanarts, fanfics and edits to make this break a little more enjoyable!

If you want to give your opinion on this theory, you're free to do so here in the comments, or on twitter and bluesky (in both cases, I'm there under @/tinybuckish).

Self promo mode, I write fanfics that you can find on AO3 under the username Beezethe! I have one coda about the buddie scene in 8x08, pure angst with no comfort... Feel free to give it a read!

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