#but yeah excuse the pretty sloppy quality

[sortanonymous]

Sorta Angry Comics #4 - "A Family Found Furiously"

[elifalvey]

As Aslihan's laugh reverberated around the room, Elijah could confidently say that he's never been more thankful for being so forgetful. The thought of how he could have missed out on a decent chunk of quality time had he swiped his wallet from the nightstand before leaving the house this morning only made him want to cherish it more . . . Hell, he was even considering giving his second appointment a call, hiding behind the 'family emergency' excuse that would land him an extra handful of hours right here. Was it unethical? Probably, yeah, but as he threw her down against the mattress, watching her smile up at him with anticipation, he realized that he couldn't quite remember the last time that they were able to have this. Carefree, uninterrupted time — where they weren't sleeping (which absolutely didn't count, in his mind) or attending some pre-planned social obligation. Whenever they tried, it never lasted for very long; either of their phones would ring with work-related calls, something would happen with the girls, the cats would knock something over, or anything else from their long list of plausible distractions would effectively pull them out of their little bubble. Simply put, he wasn't going to let that happen this time.

In fact, he was already kicking himself for not having shut the bedroom door behind him when he first came into the room. As much as he wanted to believe that their pets were nice to them, logically, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he was proven wrong in that aspect. All three of them were bound to come bolting in here, using their bed as a launch pad in some sort of heated chase around the house if he didn't get up and physically lock them out. He really, really needed to go do that. However, Aslihan's hands were making quick work of removing his shirt and he just couldn't bring himself to stop kissing her — not for any longer than it'd take for the thin piece of cloth to be pulled over his head and carelessly tossed onto the floor behind him, at least.

It was like he was starving with the way his lips collided with hers, his tongue sliding effortlessly into her mouth like it belonged there instead. He swallowed a moan of his own at her affirmation — or how sexy that she sounded while saying it, he wasn't really sure. "Mmm, I dunno —" He detached himself just enough to speak, muffled and a little bit mischievous, before he urgently devoured her with another kiss, like talking was even too much time apart, "I dunno if I believe that." This time, he lowered his lips, pressing a rather sloppy kiss to the center of her throat. He momentarily thought about how pretty she'd look with a mouth-shaped bruise there, but then reason kicked in — mainly the fact that she'd have to wake up earlier the next morning to expertly cover it up in the name of looking professional, and then it no longer seemed very worth it. Hands slipping underneath her own shirt, he leaned back enough so that he could take it off, discarded like his own. "Might need to show me how much, baby."

( @draslihanxfahri-bailey )

Her lips pulled into a smirk as she watched him, how he tensed up and couldn't breathe as he looked at her. She knew what kind of thoughts were coursing through his mind right now. Was it slightly evil of her to use his own desires against him? Perhaps. Would she make it up to him? Absolutely. "I know," she purred. A little chuckle leaving her lips as she stood back upright, her eyes never tearing away from him. "I just wanted to torture you a little bit, that's all." Of course, he knew that already. He's known since the moment she smirked at him. If there was any opportunity to mess with her partner in some form or way, no matter what, Aslihan would always take that opportunity. And she knew that Eli would take that opportunity as well.

Such as this. How something as seemingly simple as his fingers tracing over her legs and his eyes on her could make her breathing shaky, her body trembling slightly while she tried her hardest to recollect herself. But... God, how could she? She teased him, now he was teasing her right back. It was so incredibly unfair that it has, in a way, become fair at this point. "They were," she tried to argue. Yet her mind was become putty the longer he stood there touching her. The longer she felt his fingertips digging into her. Part of her wasn't sure whether it was a good thing that she was wearing one of her yoga leggings or if it was a bad thing. She knew that had she worn shorts and felt him touching her skin, she would've pounce right then and there on him. Though something told her that that wouldn't matter anymore a few moments from now.

She knew that they both cherished being parents. How much they both loved the girls and having a new routine in their daily lives. However, it could go without saying that they cherished their times with each other all alone as well. After all, those days were few and far between. Even though they were fortunate enough to have their parents living in town and other people they loved and trusted to watch over the girls, after too long, them missing the girls became too strong. But they were fortunately able to have time to enjoy each other and their time together before that. Asli smiled down at him, softly caressing his face and his hair. God, she could look at him forever and never grow bored of doing so. He was just absolutely so beautiful. "Mm-hmm," she hummed with a nod. Maybe they'll get lucky and the next class with also cancel. However, her thoughts were completely swiped out of her mind as her partner grabbed her. The woman squealing with laughter as she was put over his shoulder and clung tightly to him. She was able to pat his butt a little before she was dropped back down on his side of the bed. The Egyptologist wasting no time to wrap her legs around his waist as she beamed up at him. She moaned softly at his kiss, having missed his lips so much since that morning while her hands were quickly working to take his shirt off. Her fingertips tracing over his chest and then stomach before pulling him closer. "God, I missed you." Her voice was raspy, taking him in as much as possible. Refusing to waste any time in being with him while they still got the chance. ||📜@elifalvey

[takemealivelh]

midnight city || gang!luke

gang!luke, rival gangs, mentions of drugs, alcohol and violence. smut. 2k. part 1.

feedback is appreciated

he wiped the blood off his knuckles. the feeling of beating the shit out of someone is a rush of adrenaline. it’s like getting high on coke, but he doesn’t deal with that shit. he’s known many people who do hard drugs and then end up in trouble, or dead. he appreciates his life so much. luke likes being the leader of the diamond forsaken. a mafia that dedicates its time to drug transactions and occasionally prostitution. luke doesn’t fuck with that either, at least not recently. he met this girl in a bar and he’s been thinking about her for over a month. they’ve been on a few dates, and the sex has been great. she has a great sense of humor and he can tell she’s got street smarts, which he likes. he couldn’t fathom the idea of being with someone who gets scared about his job.

“you good, bro?” ashton, luke’s right-hand man, looks over at the bruises and leans against the sink of the bathroom, lighting a joint. their day is done and it’s time to go party. luke beat the shit out of a dude who didn’t give them their money and he threatened to go to the police. there was no way they would let him leave the storage unit without a warning. luke choked the man and broke a few ribs. he’s used to the job. it’s not like he was always like this. he used to have big dreams about forming a band and become a good musician. but he fell into the wrong crowds, and now here he is. dealing drugs and other sketchy businesses. everyone in la who knows about their mafia, knows not to fuck with them. they would end up dead. the police don’t do anything, they know how dangerous they are.

luke dries his hands with a paper towel and runs his fingers through his golden locks. “yeah,” he says. he’s never walked out of a fight with anything more than a few bruises. he does boxing on his free time, so he knows how to throw a lethal punch, and knows how to avoid poor kicks.

“i heard the grey lilies will be there tonight. i swear to fucking god those girls... i would bang every single one of them, but... you know...”

the grey lilies were a girl gang. they dealt drugs, too. that’s why they were a rival to the diamond forsaken. they never got into a physical fight, but there were many times they were about to. having the best clients was a problem for the male gang, but at least they had more people wanting their goods. but still, luke was pissed that they had a quality over quantity problem. he’d grown accustomed to the luxurious lifestyle. a good place to live, the most delicious takeout, and fancy cars. 

“for real?” luke looks over at his friend. he hides his excitement. sure, the grey lilies were trouble. but their top dealer, jackie, was the most fascinating creature he’d ever seen. their dates had been fun, exciting, thrilling. the idea of a secret hookup with their enemy was another rush of adrenaline. one that he actually preferred, if he was being honest.

- 

it’d all started at one of the parties. luke knew jackie, or at least he knew her face and what she did for a living. he was jealous she did so good with clients. she was charming as fuck. they didn’t mean to show up at the same place at the same time, but sometimes the gangs coincided. “did you get the dresnners?” she’d asked him as she took a seat on the stool next to him. her caramel-colored hair was in a ponytail and her eyeshadow was pastel blue. she wore ripped jeans, an oversized white t shirt, and high-heeled boots. the look suited her. she looked like the vocalist of an 80s inspired punk band.

luke scoffed. he knew what she meant. they had been fighting over the dressners for weeks and they decided to go with the grey lilies. that night, the diamond forsaken got blackout drunk. “no, but you did.” he finally said, looking down at the glass of vodka in his hand. 

“yeah,” she chuckled and ordered a beer. luke had always thought jackie was pretty interesting, but they’d never talked. not much, at least. just a few words here and there, mostly passive-aggressive shit. but the bickering was also part of the job. that night, though, that night neither felt like fighting. they were already buzzed. jackie took a swig of her beer and looked at him. “you wanna go outside? i got a joint. it’s legit shit, this.” she smiled.

it’s not like he frowned, but something among those lines happened. but fuck it, he thought. “sure. lead the way.”

they went to the terrace of the bar and lit up the joint. luke coughed a little and she laughed.  “i told you it was legit.”

-

luke and ashton walk into the club like the kings they are. everyone stops to look at them. but shortly, they resume their activities. which mostly consists of getting drunk and high. the two men make their way towards their usual booth. michael and calum are already there. calum’s with his girl. a black beauty who gives incredible head, his words. luke takes a seat and drinks the beer in front of him, swiftly drifting off the conversation to look around. he hasn’t seen the grey lilies, but he hopes they get here soon. bathroom sex sounds good right now.

“how was the guy?” michael asks as he throws a couple of fries into his mouth. ashton tells him that luke did a good job in silencing the motherfucker. “three ribs? man, that’s dark. but cool.” he laughs.

everyone seems to stop talking again, and luke shifts his gaze towards the door. the grey lilies have arrived. they look like a grunge band. their leader, lea, wears combat boots and net tights. but his eyes are focused on the girl whose moans keeps him up at night.  she looks gorgeous in that oversized that jacket that seems to swallow her whole, but still barely covers her ass. he wonders if he looks okay, sexy. he didn’t have time to change, and he hasn’t shaved in a few days. his motorcycle jacket has a few stains, but at least they’re not blood.

jackie finds him staring and she puts on a smirk. she pats the pocket of her jacket to let him know that she’s got weed on her. they rarely ever not get high together. that makes her wonder if this, this between luke and her, is just a side effect of the drug. but she doubts it. she actually likes him, even if she despises his friends. they all seem idiotic to her. luke notices the action of her hand and he immediately looks down at his drink. “imma go to the bathroom.” he announces, even though no one is hearing. they’re too into the story about the miami trip calum and his girl took last weekend.

luke stands up from the booth and snakes through the crowd. he catches a glimpse of jackie, who’s making her way towards her regular booth. “meet me outside in five,” he texts her. he watches her check her phone and smile down at the screen. 

-

“they’re gonna kill us if they see us together,” jackie says as she pulls out the joint from her pocket. she knows the grey lilies hate the diamond forsaken. they think the other gang are all egocentric assholes. she used to think that, too. but she met luke. and he’s actually a sweet guy. he’s really smart, too. the strategy they use to get more clients astounds her. but it’s nice to know that the grey lilies have the better clients.

luke watches her light up the joint and he leans against the wall outside of the club. it’s dark outside and the air is cold. there aren’t many people in the terrace, but he doubts anyone will say anything about them being together. getting high together. “then we’re just gonna have to keep it a secret.” his smile is shy, and jackie thinks he’s the most adorable man. even if he has bruises on his knuckles from probably beating up some shady guy. she passes the joint and luke takes a drag. “you wanna come to my place later? i got some cds i wanna show you.” they’re both big music nerds, and he loves that. they sit on the floor of his room, high out of their minds, and they listen to oasis, jane’s addiction and red hot chili peppers. 

“i don’t know. lea wants to do some kind of after party tonight. and i kinda want to be there.”

luke nods his head, he’s sort of disappointed, but it is what it is. he knows the gangs come first. it’s all about loyalty. that’s why he’d be fucked if anyone of the diamond forsaken members came out right now. but he knows they don’t smoke, except for calum occasionally -rarely, actually. so he’s not worried. 

“come here,” jackie smiles as she plays with the zipper of his jacket. they’re incredibly close and she can feel the smoke coming out from luke’s mouth. she kisses him softly, licking his bottom lip. with eyes closed, luke feels stars bursting inside his lungs. he really likes her. “give me that,” she orders and he hands her the joint.

they keep smoking until there’s nothing left and they stare into each other’s eyes. jackie isn’t one to maintain eye contact, but she feels safe with luke. even if he’s forbidden fruit.

-

the men's bathroom is empty. they had to sneak in so the others couldn’t see them. luke made an excuse about going to the bar to get more drinks even if the counter was crammed. jackie said she was going out for a smoke. it’s all hands and sloppy kisses as they lock the door of one of the stalls. luke bites his lower lip as his back is pressed to the white door and jackie drops to her knees. “you gonna make me feel good?”

“imma make you feel so good, baby,” she grins and unzips his pants. he’s already hard from all the making out in the terrace. so it’s not surprise that his cock springs up as soon as his briefs are pulled down to his thighs. jackie licks the tip and he shudders. he’s gotten a fair amount of blowjobs in his life. the first one from one girl that attended his school and she thought he was going to be a musician one day. but nothing compares to jackie’s mouth. her tongue slides down his length and he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. she’s ecstatic that she can make him squirm in front of her. she likes being in control, even if it doesn’t always happen. luke can be pretty dominant in the bedroom. taking her from behind roughly and choking her. jackie puts his cock in her mouth and she starts bobbing her head to the rhythm of the loud bass coming from the other side of the bathroom door. luke appreciates the little detail. his senses are heightened and it feels like she’s one more instrument adding to the song.

“fuck,” he curses under his breath as he feels the tip of his dick hit her throat. she takes him in so good. she’s an angel. luke looks down and he sees her eyes staring up at him, a subtle smirk on her lips. “you’re- you’re-” he’s trying to say something but his brain doesn’t work. the pleasure is too intense. he hits his head against the door and closes his eyes once again. he’s about to cum. exactly at the same time he hears someone come into the bathroom. fuck. “stop, stop,” he whispers to jackie and cups her face to get her off his dick. she looks through the slit of the door and sees someone she recognizes washing their hands.

“shit,” she mouths. “michael.”

-

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[rayslittlekitten]

You’re Safe

A/N: So since July 4th is around the corner, this idea came to me with this week's FanFic Friday prompt for @rebelwrites​. While half way through writing, it reminded of this beautiful piece that @kesskirata​ wrote and honestly this is nowhere close to hers in terms of quality. I felt like I was there with them while reading it. Anywho, this feels bit rushed and sloppy, but hope you enjoy it. Also, this takes place some time shortly after "Picture Time" which is also in the same universe as “Excess Baggage”.

Rating: T

Word Count: 990

Pairing: Will "Ironhead" Miller x F!Fiancee reader

Contains: PTSD

Since dating Will, every year you spend July 4th with him and his Delta boys. This year, Frankie and Lucy are hosting for the first time in their new house and also first time as husband and wife.

"Y/N! Will! Come on in!" Lucy greets the two of you with a hug and kiss.

"Hi, Lucy! We brought some sustenance." You hold up the Tupperware of cookies you baked and Will holds up a large case of beer.

"Ooh, I can't wait to try those. Benny tells me they're to die for. Right this way!" Lucy leads the both of you through her home and into the back yard where everyone is hanging out.

"Hey, look who finally decided to show up!" Santi says. 

"We were starting to take bets on when you would show," Tom adds.

Will has been doing well for the most part with his PTSD, but every year this day is always a test for him. He always flip flops back and forth on whether he wants to go or not which always causes the two of you to show up later than most.

"Well, I hope you fucking lost, Redfly," Will shoots back.

"Easy, hermano. Tranquilo. We're all friends here." Frankie jumps in. "Let me take that from you." Will hands the case of beer to Frankie who then unloads it into a cooler nearby.

“Hey, man!” Benny gets up from his seat to greet his brother and also you.

“Here, let me help you with these.” Benny takes the cookies from you but you know better that Benny just wants to hoard them.

“Uncle Will!!”

Tom's daughter runs over to Will to hug him.

“Tess, no running!” Molly shouts.

Will swoops her up in one swift movement, tossing her up in the air and then catching her, making her giggle. He then holds her up against his side, carrying her at hip level. She leans in to wrap her little arms around his neck and then giving him a kiss on his cheek.

“So how you been, Tessy?” Will asks, bouncing her in his arms.

“I made up a new song yesterday! You wanna hear it?” Tess replies as she's squinting from the sunlight and trying to brush away her hair that's sticking to her sweaty face.

“Yeah, of course I do! You made it up all by yourself?” Will helps her out with her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears.

"No, mommy helped me."

Will walks off with Tess and sits down next to Benny who is eating one of your cookies under the shade of the patio table umbrella.

Will has always been great with kids. You go to the cooler to grab two beers. While opening them, you admire Will from afar as you watch him giving Tess his undivided attention as she's bouncing on his lap, singing and clapping. His genuine smile and joy is as precious as Tess.

****************************************

At some point, Frankie gives you and Will a little tour of the house which ended back in the kitchen where the access to the back yard is. 

"Hey, Frankie. Can you come help me with the grill?" Lucy pops her head into the kitchen from the sliding glass door.

"Yeah, I'll be right there, mama," Frankie replies. "Excuse me, guys."

"No, go right ahead," you tell Frankie.

As Frankie heads outside, you start to follow him.

"I'll be right out. Just need to use the bathroom," Will tells you.

"Okay."

You head outside and find a seat at the table betwen Benny and Tom. Tess is trying to teach Uncle Santi a hand-clapping game. Molly and Lucy are chatting and Frankie is at the grill. The sun had already set and the Moraleses had set up string lights around their yard. You’re pretty sure it was Lucy's idea. Frankie would have scattered some spot lights and called it a day.

You are suddenly startled by the sound of a bright explosion in the sky.

"Daddy! Look! The fireworks!" Tess shouts, pointing to the sky.

"Yes, it is sweetheart," Tom says.

Tess jumps with excitement watching the exploding colors dance across the sky. You then realize that Will has been gone for a while. You go in to check up on him. He did question the potato salad. As you make your way to the bathroom, you hear some odd noises. You follow it and find Will sitting on the ground with his knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried between them with his hands over his head and ears. You rush over to him, kneeling beside him.

"Billy!"

He flinches at your touch. The fireworks are not as loud in the house but the constant barrage of the sound is enough to cause Will discomfort and unease.

"Billy! Hey, hey!" You place your hand over his chest, trying to ground him. His hand immediately clamps over yours. "Look at me. You're safe. You're safe."

Will looks up at you into your eyes. His sad and scared blue eyes penetrate yours. You reach up with your other hand to cup his face.

"Breathe, Billy. Deep breaths." You take deep breaths, demonstrating and he eventually follows. "That's it. In and out. Focus on your breathing." Will closes his eyes and continues the breathing exercise. 

Another sudden boom reverbs above you two and Will flinches.

"Billy, I'm here." You rub his chest to remind him. He squeezes your hand tighter. "It's just fireworks. They won't hurt you."

The fireworks finally subside and Will opens his eyes and meets yours again. He's no longer scared, but there is still sadness in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" You ask him.

He doesn't respond.  He just nods slightly and then starts getting up to his feet. You help him up and then he pulls you into his chest and holds you tight. You rub his back as he quietly cries into your shoulder.

Related Fics: - Picture Time - Excess Baggage

[hockeyboysiguess]

beer and beanies | j. benn

a/n: this is entire the fault of @danglesnipecelly​, so you can thank her, i guess

word count: 3.2K

wine beer pairing recommendation: a nice, local beer. support your local breweries businesses. something over 6%, because why not?

warnings: language and smut. it’s basically all smut. 

You scrambled to get to the door, one earring in and the other halfway in, hands fiddling to get the other hook through your ear. You shouted that you were coming, but you knew the person on the other side already knew you were. He knocked again anyway just to push your buttons, making you huff in annoyance. You held your earring in place with one hand, then yanked your front door open with the other. 

“Jamie, you knew I was coming,” you sighed, finally able to get your earring all the way in and take a look at him instead of his shoes 

“Oh, hi there. What did I do to deserve getting to look at you across the table all night?” 

You rolled your eyes at him as he stepped into your apartment, reaching for you. His large hands found your hips, anchoring himself to you as he leaned down and dropped a deeper than expected kiss to your lips. As he pulled away, you sighed, seeing your lipstick smeared across his lips. You reached up, placing a hand on his stubbly jaw, and wiped your thumb over his lips. 

“You could just not wear lipstick, you know,” he teased you, despite both of you knowing full well that cherry red lipsticks made his knees go weak and his pants get a little tighter when he thought about them around his cock. “That way you won’t have to clean it off me and you won’t get all huffy when you have to fix it.” 

“Your suggestion has been noted and filed away in the trash where it belongs,” you teased back, wiping away the last bit of red at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t have been a problem tonight if you weren’t so early it didn’t have time to dry.”

“Oh, sorry,” he smiled down at you, pulling you in tighter. “I’ll show up late next time then.” 

You rolled your eyes, giving his broad chest a shove so he released you. You did need to fix the lipstick he ruined after all. He followed you into your room, taking a seat on your bed. He fiddled with his phone as you fixed what he ruined so casually, a constant in your relationship with Jamie. You watched him through the mirror over your shoulder as you touched up the edge of your lipstick with your thumb. He looked good tonight, but to your credit, so did you. Black t-shirt, light jeans, and black beanie covering his thick, dark hair, he looked every bit like the fall boyfriend roll he was playing tonight, zip up sweatshirt over it all, sleeves pushed up, tattoos exposed. He wore the sweatshirt even though he was always warm because you always got cold, but never remembered your jacket. Throwing on a sweatshirt was easier than trying to make you remember you bring your own. 

“Ready,” you told him, watching through the mirror as his head snapped up, eyes going straight to your ass bent over in front of him, mirror in the background for him. 

You watched as he licked his lips softly, trailing his eyes up your body until they met yours. Jamie was never shy about appreciating you. He told you with his eyes and his hands more than his words, but the longer you’d been together, the most comfortable he got with telling you how he felt. 

“What if we just-”

“Jamie, we’re going. You’ve wanted to go to this brewery since it opened,” you reminded him.

Jamie sucked in a quick breath through his teeth as you stood up, giving him a little shake of your ass for good measure before grabbing your purse and tossing it across your body. Jamie came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist from behind. He leaned his head down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His hands trailing down, ghosting over your hips and up your sides.

“But what if we just went a little later?” Jamie tried again, breathing out the words into your ear softly. 

“Jamie, we’re going. I already called an Uber.” 

Jamie leaned his head back, face pointing toward the ceiling, and groaned audibly. He gave your hips a tight squeeze, but surrendered when he realized you weren’t budging. He was grumpy climbing into the back of the Uber, hand high on your thigh under your skirt, rubbing circles with his thumb hoping to drive you crazy enough to tell the driver to turn around, with no such luck. He was grumpy until you got a beer in his hand and sat down in the back corner of the outdoor patio of the brewery, a pretzel on its way from the kitchen, fall breeze in the air. 

“Happy now?” you teased him when he made a pleased noise deep from his throat when the waiter dropped off the pretzel, complete with beer cheese. 

“Would’ve been happier to have just bent you over and fucked you in front of the mirror like I wanted.” Jamie smirked as a blush rose in your cheeks from his words, “But I guess a beer and a pretzel with a pretty girl is an okay second option.” 

“Just an okay second option?” you teased him as you ripped part of the pretzel off for yourself. 

“Pretzel or your pussy?” Jamie pretended to think about it for a second, brown eyes looking up to the sky, head tilting from side to side. His eyes locked with yours before he spoke again, “Yeah, not even close.” 

You nodded softly in understanding, “The pretzel is better. I understand.” 

Jamie laughed loudly, hand coming to his stomach as his other wrapped around his beer again, “Yeah, sure. You got it.” 

Comfortable conversation fell over both of you. You told Jamie about your week. He told you about the short road trip he’d gone on. Both of you used up your saved information, the stories you didn’t share over your nightly Facetimes while he was away. Jamie always called you, no matter the time, even just for a minute or two. He wanted to hear your voice before he went to sleep, win or lose, he wanted you. 

He really wanted you right now though, four beers deep for him, two and a half for you, giggles pouring out from you. You laughed at all of his dumb jokes when you were tipsy, something tipsy Jamie appreciated since he could never quite tell just how badly the quality of jokes he was telling was degrading. You laughed all the same, one of his favorite sounds. Nothing compared to the ones he was going to draw from you as soon as he could get you out of this goddamn brewery he had wanted to go to until you put on that shirt, the white one with the little flowers and the puffy sleeves, and the killer thigh high boots. He definitely hadn’t wanted to go after seeing those two things, but you’d drug him here anyway. Now, he was just trying to figure out how to get you out of here and into any bed, any bed would work at this point. Hell, Jamie wasn’t picky. A couch would work honestly.  

It took him another beer and another half an hour to do it, finally just closing the tab and calling an Uber while you were in the bathroom. You had made friends, something Jamie usually appreciated, if you didn’t look so damn good tonight. Who was he kidding though. You looked this good every night. He was just using it as an excuse to himself to drag you out of the bar without guilt. 

You stumbled through the front door of your apartment one short Uber ride later, his hands on your hips, tugging at you to keep you close and accidentally making you rock back into him in the process. The drinks were hitting you both, making Jamie tip back into you, almost sending you both sprawling on the floor, but his grip on your hips shifted to one hand as he caught the door frame to keep you both upright. 

“Sorry, baby,” he laughed, his lips finding your neck as he kicked the door shut behind him. His hands slid over your sides, feeling your curves under his palms, the sweater and skirt combination had been driving him crazy all night. You wore a sweater but still had to steal his sweatshirt halfway through your third beer. “God, you’re so fucking pretty.” 

“Ever look in a mirror, Jamie?” you joked with him, making him laugh against your skin. 

His hands tugged on your hips as he lifted his head, pulling until you spun around to face him. One of his large hands moved up to cup your jaw softly, thumb brushing over your cherry red lips softly. He looked at you, eyes glazed over, like you were his favorite painting that he couldn’t believe actually hung in his home. He pressed a deep, searing kiss to your lip, leaving you breathless, as he slowly pushed you back against the wall next to your front door. One of his legs carded between your thighs, giving you some friction you desperately needed even if it was just against his jeans. Jamie had known exactly what he was doing when he got dressed for your date, black beanie on his head. He knew that something about it drove you wild and did it anyway, hoping this would be the result. 

His hands were under your sweater now, rubbing over your skin firmly, ghosting over your nipples over your bra. His movements were sloppy, lips rough against yours before he moved to leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. You moaned when he sucked on a mark on your collarbone that was still healing from earlier in the week. You felt him smile against your skin in response to the sound before your hands found the dark strands of his hair peeking out from under the beanie at the nape of his neck and tugged on him, making him hiss softly. 

“You’re desperate tonight,” he noted as one of his hands found their way under your skirt, running up the outside of your thigh. 

“So are you.”

He cursed when you palmed him roughly through his jeans, dark, wide eyes rolling back in his head for a moment. You popped the button on his jeans and watched as his eyes snapped forward, chin dipping down to look at your hand as you slowly inched the zipper down, taking your sweet time. 

“I want to fuck you right here,” Jamie said through closed teeth, trying to keep himself a little under control. 

“Then stop talking about it and do it,” you replied with a coy smile on your lips. 

Jamie cursed again, mumbled something about how he was pretty sure you were going to kill him one day, before wrapping his hands around your thighs and lifting you up. He guided your legs around him, letting your back against the wall and his hips do the work of supporting you so his hands could wander exactly where he wanted them to. He fisted his hands at the edge of your skirt and pushed up until the material of it until it was settled around your waist. Satisfied, Jamie dropped his mouth to yours again, leaving a deep, wet kiss at had you whimpering when he broke it a little as he tried to push his jeans and boxers down. He groaned at the sounds you made, every single time. They were his favorite thing, playing over and over in his mind when he couldn’t have you, when he was in hotel rooms alone with only his memories of you and his right hand to keep him company. 

Jamie pushed your panties aside, not even bothering to try and wrangle them off you with the position you had settled into. Two long fingers ran up your pussy and Jamie cursed when he realized how wet you already were for him. Still, he behaved himself just enough to slide the two digits into you first, making sure you really were ready for him. He didn’t behave himself enough not to curl his fingers up suddenly, running over your walls, making your grasp desperately at his broad shoulders at the sensation. 

“Jamie,” you whined, “I need your cock.”

“Patience, patience,” he clicked his tongue softly, mouth focused on leaving bruising kisses on your neck. 

You huffed and gave his chest a small shove, even to make his head pull back. His brown eyes, pupils blown out, looked you over, fingers still moving in and out of you slowly and steadily. Your cheeks were flushed from the combination of alcohol, Jamie, and that you were still wearing a goddamn sweater. You yanked it and the tank top you wore underneath it over your head clumsily, tossing them onto the floor. In a bra, with your skirt bunched up around your waist, panties pushed to the side, the heels of your boots digging into his ass, and two fingers curled deep inside, Jamie still couldn’t believe you were really his sometimes. But when you were like this, needy and desperate for him, begging for him, maybe you really were his and not a dream he’d wake up from someday. 

“Please, Jamie,” you begged again, hands on the back of his neck, keeping him close. “Please fuck me.”

Jamie was never good at saying no to you, especially when you were like this. He cursed as he shifted, fingers sliding out of you in favor of wrapping around his cock to line up with your entrance. He teased at your entrance, hips tilting forward and backward to let the head of his cock run up and down your slit. You whined, nails digging into the back of his neck, a silent beg for him to do something, anything. Jamie pushed into you suddenly, letting out a string of curse words as you took all of him so easily, hips stopping against yours. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” Jamie groaned. “So fucking good for me.” 

“Always good for you,” you replied, eyes closing as you let yourself enjoy the feeling of him inside you. 

“Yeah, you are,” Jamie laughed softly. “Do me a favor, yeah?” 

You opened your eyes slowly, your body still thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having him exactly where you had wanted him since he put that damn beanie on his head before you left the house, which was still on, still driving you crazy. He offered up two fingers to you, the two that had been inside of you, fingertips brushing your lips. 

“Clean these off for me while I fuck you, yeah?”

You had barely started to nod, lips parting when his hips tilted back, almost sliding completely out of you. As his fingers slid into your mouth, his hips pushed forward and up into you sloppily. You moaned around his fingers, nail digging deep into his shoulders through his shirt, hard enough you knew you were leaving marks that would be there tomorrow in your desperation. Jamie’s free hand gripped your hip tightly, hard enough you knew it would be sore tomorrow, to keep you from moving up the wall with each thrust. There was nothing gentle about how he was fucking you and you didn’t want there to be. This is what you wanted all night, his self control loosening just enough to fuck you like this. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jamie mumbled when he pulled back from your now bruised neck to look at you. “So pretty for me, baby.”

Your tongue slid over his fingers, circling them gently and he cursed again at the feeling, hips stuttering and slowing against yours for a moment. He ran his thumb softly over your cheekbone as you sucked hard on his fingers, hollowing your cheeks out. Jamie’s lips parted as he watched and felt your actions, hips still as he watched you for a moment. If he wasn’t already buried inside you and very much enjoying that, he would push you into your knees and feel the back of your throat. Well, it was still early in the night, so maybe he would get both before it was over. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Jamie whined out.

He adjusted his grip on your hip before snapping his hips back up into yours. You moaned out against his fingers, jaw going slightly slack at the angle he was managing to hit over and over that had your eyes rolling back. One of your hands scratched down his chest, grateful he was wearing a t-shirt for once because you definitely would’ve given him marks he would’ve had to explain in the locker room tomorrow otherwise.

“Touch yourself for me, baby,” Jamie grunted into your neck where his head had naturally fallen into again. “Cum all over my cock for me. Let me feel you.”

You bit your lip hard in response, trying to bite back another desperate whimper to no avail. You dropped two fingers to your clit and started with small, smooth circles, quickly picking up your pace as you felt that familiar tightening in your stomach and your breath picked up. Jamie could feel just how close you were. He could feel it in how your body was tensing against his. He could hear your breaths getting shorter, heavier, the little moans leaving your mouth getting more desperate as you chased your release. He could feel your moans against his fingers still in your mouth, muffling the sounds he knew would wake your neighbors with how desperate you were being tonight. He used his hand on your hip to pull your hips forward and off the wall. Jamie could feel how close you were and he wanted to, needed to, see your face when you hit your high. 

He lifted his head from your neck and his eyes found yours. He smirked ever so slightly before sliding almost all of the way out, then back in quickly, enjoying the depth the adjusted angle gave him. Your eyes went wide as he buried himself deep inside you, then pulled out only to repeat the motion again. Jamie watched your shoulders tense, your pupils dilate wider, and he felt more than heard your scream around his fingers as your orgasm hit you. You tightened down around him and Jamie willed his eyes not to roll back as he came, wanting to see every inch of his handiwork across your face. 

You were both gasping for air as Jamie finally slid his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand cup your face gingerly, cheek hot under his palm. His fingers that had definitely left bruises on your hip was rubbing it softly now, relaxing the tense muscles underneath. 

“Well, that was fun,” Jamie laughed, making you smile and nod in agreement. “You good?”

“I’m so good, Jamie,” you laughed, letting the residual feelings of your high wash over you. “So fucking good.” 

“Good.” Jamie pressed a hand on your calf that was sitting on his waist, encouraging you to tighten your grip on him, which you did. His hand moved up, pulling your arm over his neck, then the other with his opposite hand, before letting his hands come to your ass, lifting you from the wall easily. “Because after your little show there with your mouth, I’m going to need to feel those pretty lips around my cock tonight.”

[maevelin]

I know you didn't enjoy Nesta's book that much. What were the parts you didn't like and were there things you did enjoy?

I found the plot very basic and simplistic. The author has the tendency to overhype certain things and then drop the hints and the foreshadowing or write something totally anticlimactic about it.

An example for the anticlimactic part is how the former books had presented the Blood Rite as such a horrific event. One that in order to survive it Illyrians trained their whole life and then you take a few completely untrained individuals, train them basically for a few months a few hours in the mornings (I mean it is as if they went to the gym) and then they are ready to own the whole thing. It was ridiculous.

You introduce the concept of Valkyries and instead of writing an actual story about it you give a child’s play with some girls basically saying...hey they sound cool, we have no idea past the surface what and who they were or if we are basically appropriating their culture but let’s make a new club about it. I mean...why not just introduce Valkyries in a more grounded way, even the rebirth of their nation and lore, in a more realistic way? Instead you get a lost female tradition and you have males teaching girls about it. Take Thor Ragnarok for example (one movie that has not won me over as much as others). So why not introduce a new character that is a Valkyrie, even the last of her kind, a jaded character that has quit life just as Nesta and then create a story to reignite the myth of the Valkyries into something new that Nesta would accept and embrace.

Although for the life of me I don’t understand why PTSD and healing has to be connected with that sort of training in the first place. Why get a character like Nesta and  turn her into a Xena type of character all of the sudden...because that’s the only way to show inner strength or any kind of strength? I just don’t get it. 

However I did appreciate Nesta’s journey at certain parts although some felt forced in order to accept the Inner Circle bullshit and when people had predicted that in the end Nesta would how to bow and kneel to the ‘awesomeness’ of the Inner Circle so to be welcomed into the Night Court and be redeemed I am pretty sure no one expected this to literally happen. It gave me such a visceral reaction.

I couldn’t have disliked the IC more in this book even if I tried (and boy there were dubious, problematic and outright offensive and abusive things in their behavior) but what I didn’t like was that Nesta didn’t have an interesting story plot wise. Her journey of healing was okay and it has some interesting and beautiful moments but the story surrounding it was sloppy.

I hated the concept/threat of throwing Nesta in the Court of Nightmares but just from a creative perspective it would have made the book a thousand times more interesting. The dynamic felt off in general and in the end it felt as if the main concept was not resolved but the realization came that there was no main concept. 

Say what you will for the first three ACOTAR books but they had a goal, a purpose, a target. Feysand and Feyre’s personal journey were the focus but the their books served far more than that thus making those parts work in a solid (at least as far as these books are concerned) structure. Here we got some treasure hunt but everything was left open ended and it was not even focused entirely on Nesta and Cassian. I felt robbed somehow especially given the dynamic Nesta’s powers had and based on that alone a personal story could have been built upon that potential that got wasted for the most part. We could have gotten an epic storyline and we...did not.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT? Nesta DESERVED  a GREAT VILLAIN/ANTAGONIST for her own story and she did not get that (come on Briallyn was such weak sauce and unremarkable)  and I am offended on Nesta’s behalf to be honest LOL

Nesta’s voice and the way she was written was reminiscent of Feyre’s at parts but I assume this is because of the writing style of the author but it still felt jarring if not OOC at parts.

And I felt that some behaviors we had seen in previous books (how Cassian avoided her in Acowar and so on) were overlooked and the good things Nesta did along with the bad (how she went after Feyre after Tamlin took her and how she was ready to sacrifice herself to give Feyre a chance and how she was so focused on saving children and so on) were completely ignored all so to ‘excuse’ how she was treated and how she deserved to be treated that way by all others and how she had to redeem herself. And yeah she had to face her wrongdoings because she had been abusive too but I felt there were double standards concerning her which I did not appreciate in the way the book was written.

In the end I found the sacrifice of her powers a beautiful thing for her personal growth but at the same time I also got the intention behind the writing that has nothing to do with Nesta’s journey and that is disappointing.

There was also the usual writing style/editing that has its issues and I got really tired with the phrase “like calls to like”. Like...okay we got it the first hundred times enough already.

All that been said there were things I enjoyed in the book too.

1. The House... which let’s face it it’s Tardis to Nesta’s Doctor.

2. Nesta’s connection with music and dancing was beautiful.

3. Her love of books? Brilliant.

4. The scene with the Kelpie? QUALITY STUFF! 

5. As was the description of Nesta entering the Cauldron.

6. The scene with her nightmare engulfed in silver flames was amazing too.

7. Hello Nes and Lady Death!

8. Cassian’s protectiveness over Nesta was also nice especially when he was able to man up (no I won’t go for male up LOL) and stand up against certain bullshit behavior targeted at Nesta.

9. Emerie and Gwyn were cute and their relationship with Nesta beautiful although it did also feel rushed at parts. I would have much preferred that build up to have happened with her sisters but given the fuckery of the IC in general I will take this and savor it!

10. Azriel was a relief and I would have liked more interaction between him and Nesta. Brilliant indeed.

11. I HATED Amren but I loved the parallel of what she had once told Nesta:  “When you erupt, girl, make sure it is felt across worlds” and we got this scene when Nesta. (P.s You unmade her...She had it coming LMAO)

12. The cookie offer in the end made me laugh.

13. Overall Nessian was cute and thankfully Cassian wasn’t the same creep he was in Acofas. Although his low esteem and blind servitude left much to be desired at times.

14. The smut at times was making me cringe but the sexual drive and dynamic of the characters felt appropriate given their personalities.

15. I also liked Feyre’s inner thoughts when Eris asked Nesta’s hand in marriage and the way she was protective of Nesta and wanted to end him LOL.

16. Speaking of which...everyone wanting Nesta as their bride was very funny and after a while it kept happening and I couldn’t stop laughing.

17. Nesta’s first “I love you” was given to Feyre and thank you!

I think that’s about it.

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

Just Me and You - Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Rio Alvarez x Black!Plus size!Oc

Summary: Simone Dunn is a singer just trying to live her best life and make it through the obstacles that have been put in front of her. Living life in the city isn’t always easy. Life might be kicking her in the ass presently, but she kept a smile on her face regardless. Rio Alvarez is all about his business. He’s expanding up and out of just the money laundering business. He wanted it all. He was hooked from the second he heard her voice, but will her past and his enemies let them be together?

Warning(s): None really. It’s a meet-cute. They meet, it’s cute. 

Word count: 2,026

Author’s Note: I’m not gonna lie, this story means a lot to me. I was never sure if I’d start posting it or not. Simone has been an OC of mine for a long time now and when the idea to pair her with Rio popped into my mind I knew it could be something very special. I hope you all enjoy the journey. As always questions, comments, and concerns are welcome! Might even start a tag list but we’ll see. Thanks for reading. xo

Rio stared out of the window, looking out at his investment. It had the perfect eye line for all the exits and it had the best view of the stage. Since he began flipping his game and moving up in the world he became acquainted with folks that had different tastes than him. The opportunity to invest in this club kind of fell in his lap. His new co-owner was a sloppy prick, but Rio couldn’t deny the club was bringing in a nice grip of money for him. He liked the anonymity of being a silent partner. Every two weeks he’d roll through, check up on the club, and collect some cash to put into his other businesses.

As he looked down at all the club goers, he was pleased to see the place was pretty packed. He was not happy to see the owner, Shaun, with two women on his arm. This wasn’t a social hour. He was here for business. Mick, his right hand man, was guarding the door and hadn’t moved an inch to let Shaun in. 

“Hey man. Place is poppin tonight right?” Shaun greeted Rio as he tried to maneuver past Mick who only moved at Rio’s nod. “Enjoying your night? These are a couple lady friends of mine. Say ‘hi’ ladies.”

“Hi.” The two girls parroted at Rio, waving at him.

Rio didn’t bother greeting the women. “Get rid of the bitches man.”

“What?” Shaun asked, his tone confused.

“I ain’t gonna tell you twice.” Rio’s face hadn’t changed. He just stared Shaun down.

Shaun cleared his throat and whispered something to the ladies before they shuffled back out of the room. It was quiet except for the sound of the music pumping through the speakers.

“My bad man. They were sexy as hell though right? Can you really blame me?” Shaun tried to excuse, a smile on his face as he walked over to where Rio was standing.

As soon as he was within arms reach, Rio gripped the back of his neck tightly and pulled him close. He stared directly in his eyes. “Don’t ever bring nobody to one of our meetings again. I choose to keep you on, but that can easily be changed. Get my money and stop fucking playing with me.”

Shaun merely nodded and Rio let go of him. Shaun tried adjusting his suit and cleared his throat. He walked over to the wall that was furthest from the window and opened a panel in the door. He put the code into the panel and opened it up. There was a silver case inside that he pulled out before closing the door back. “Business has been better than ever. I was able to add a permanent residency here that has us packed every week. We may even be able to up prices a bit.”

Rio’s eyebrow quirked in interest at the man’s words. “Permanent residency?”

Shaun had set the case on the table and Mick opened it, starting to count the money that was inside. Rio walked closer to take a look inside and noticed that there seemed to be a couple more stacks than usual.

“Yeah. I’m still having different live performers come in, but people also like consistency. They like knowing they’re coming to hear quality music. And the pipes on this one? Massive. Doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous too.”

Rio would never admit it but he was definitely intrigued. “Who is she?”

Shaun walked back over to the window and smirked as he looked down. “Simone Dunn. Lucky for you, you came at the perfect time.”

Rio noticed the club music had shut off and people were clapping. As he walked to stand next to Shaun, a slow instrumental was playing. A soft spotlight appeared on the stage and the crowd’s clapping intensified. A giggle was heard over the mic.

“Aww, y’all are too good to me.” The woman’s voice was clear as day, but had an alluring quality. She had big black hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Her dress was pink and it gave a tantalizing view of her breasts as well as her full figure. Her skin was creamy brown and the outline of her ass was particularly appealing to Rio.

“We’re starting off grown and sexy tonight y'all. So if you’re vibing with someone, gon’ head and pull ‘em a little closer. I’m just tryna help y’all possibly end the night on a good note, if you know what I mean.” She winked at the crowd and people laughed as others hollered and whistled.

A familiar beat reached Rio’s ears, taking him back to house parties in his old neighborhood. He remembered talking slick to a fine girl as she danced on him, knowing she was gon let him fuck by the end of the night.

I'll always think of you Inside of my private thoughts I can imagine you Touching my private parts And just the thought of you I can't help but touch myself That's why I want you so bad Just one night of

The sultry sound of her voice traveled from Rio’s ears straight to his dick. He watched as her hips moved side to side as she gripped the mic stand. She was a temptress, an enchantress. Hell, she was a siren and her song was the one calling him home. Home being the absolute treasure he was sure is hiding between her thighs. 

Can't get my mind off you I think I might be obsessed The very thought of you Makes me want to get undressed I want to be with you In spite of what my heart says I guess I want you too bad All I want is

Her eyes were locking onto different people in the crowd. She was working her magic on everyone. People were partnered up and there was lots of grinding happening on the dance floor. As she looked around, her eyes happened to dart up and land on his. She looked taken aback, but curious. She never once stopped singing and now it seemed like she was singing the words directly to him.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Shaun asked, but Rio ignored him. His eyes were still locked with Simone’s as she sang. A smile pulled at her lips and her cheeks felt hot so she pulled her eyes away from him to look back toward the crowd. She missed the quick smile that appeared on Rio’s face before he turned his back to the window.

“Have you had any trouble here? Fights? Anyone tryna shake you down?” Rio asked Shaun, who looked perplexed by the sudden topic shift.

“No. I would have called you right away. Like I said, things have been great. Should I be worried or on the lookout?” Shaun asked, his tone taking on a nervous quality.

“Nah, man. Just looking out for my investment. Enjoy your night with your lady friends.” Rio dismissed the other man and Shaun took the exit without hesitation.

“You think they know you got dealings in this place?” Mick asked, once Shaun was gone.

“No, but you can never be too careful.” Rio replied, eyes drifting back toward the stage. She had begun singing a new song. Something a bit more fast paced. “I wanna keep this place as legit as possible. We need something clean in case we run into some trouble. But I aint scared of them. I’ll deal with ‘em when the time’s right.”

Mick merely nodded his head as he finished up the count.

“Everything square?” At Mick’s confirmation, Rio walked over to him. “Go ahead and take everything back to the warehouse. Imma stay and check things out for a bit. Have a drink. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Rio headed down to the bar and got himself a shot of brandy. He nursed his drink as he finished listening to the performance going on. He was in the middle of texting some associates to set up meetings for the next week when applause broke out all around him. He looked up to see Simone walking towards the bar, blowing kisses as she went.

“Ji, baby! Please get me one last malibu pineapple and I’ll love you forever.” She exclaimed, taking a seat one away from Rio. He was watching her interaction with the bartender.

“You better already love me.” The bartender, Ji-hoon, retorted even as he went about making her drink.

“You know I do boo.” She winked, a wide grin on her face. “In fact, I love you so much that I’m leaving you a big tip tonight.”

“Are you trying to buy me? Cause I’m absolutely up for sale.” He smiled, sliding her drink over to her as he leaned on the bar. He glanced over at Rio and nodded his head towards him. “Hey, you need to be topped off?”

“Yeah, man.” Rio answered and Simone finally noticed him sitting there. Ji poured Rio another drink before getting distracted on the other side of the bar by other paying customers. 

Simone made eye contact with him before looking down at her drink and swishing the glass around.

“You have a beautiful voice, mama.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She looked up at him with a smile on her face.

“Interesting choice of song too. I know a couple people here gotta be happy about the assist you gave them.” 

She laughed and shook her head. “Anything for my fans.”

“Anything?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Within reason.” She quickly added.

“So you’ll let me buy your drink, then.” 

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow and she turned around in her stool to face him, legs crossed and her silver heels shining. “So you’re a fan?”

“I am now.”

“I’ve had an open tab all night and I just promised Jian a big tip.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, and her eyes narrowed.

“And what do you want in return for so graciously picking up my tab?” 

A smirk appeared on Rio’s face and he slid one bar stool over to be closer to her. Their eyes never left one another. “I’d love to have a conversation with one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Her lights lit up in surprise and delight at his words. That soft smile of hers, returning to her face. “I guess I could swing that. So what’s your name?”

“It’s Rio, sweetheart. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Rio….I like it. I see you’re familiar with Shaun. Y’all friends or something?”

“Or something.” He answered, taking a sip of his drink.

“Or something. That’s not mysterious at all.” She joked.

“I aint no mystery baby. What you see is what you get.”

She snorted. “That’s what they all say.”

“Who?”

“Boys.” She retorted, finishing her drink.

“I’m all man and I’d love to demonstrate just how much of a man I am.” 

She looked back over to him and there was a delicious smirk on his face. No one man should be able to look like that. It’s too much power. “Tempting, but I have plans.”

“At 2 in the morning?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Is that judgment I hear in your tone Mr. ‘I-Can’t-Say-How-I-Know-Shaun?’”

Rio had to chuckle. “You got me there.”

She checked her phone and sighed at the time. “I gotta go, but it was nice meeting you Rio. Hope to see you again.” She then asked Ji-hoon to hand her the bag that was hidden behind the bar.

“You will.” He asserted, wondering why she didn’t use the employee lockers he remembered being installed. The thought was erased from his mind by her leaning into his personal space. His hand immediately went to her waist and his fingers grazed the top of her ass.

“I’m counting on it.” She whispered in his ear, before walking away and waving at a couple people as she went. He watched her the whole time and it wasn’t until she reached the exit that she turned her head to look back at him. He knew he had her.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @travellingriverside donated $52, and requested Sam/Dean mommy!kink. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

One of Sam’s earliest memories is of Dean washing his hair. Most of his early memories circle around Dean, one way or another--reading together, wrestling for blankets in their shared bed, playing Space Invaders at the arcade with Sam standing on a crate to reach--but that one feels different. In his less self-forgiving moments, he thinks that’s where the trouble started.

In the memory he’s really small--four maybe, though he’s never had a good way of tracking that kind of thing. The houses and apartments and motels changed too much and every old flash of time feels like it’s from a different life. Wherever they were, the bathroom was yellow, and he had a chipped Superman action figure who was swimming in the bath with him, and Dean was kneeling right next to the tub and he was wearing a purple t-shirt that Sam had soaked wet to black. Dean was teasing like he usually did, but Sam doesn’t remember it being mean-spirited like sometimes it could get later. Dean massaged the shampoo into his hair and it smelled like chemical peach, and he said tip your head back, kiddo when it was time to rinse, and Sam did and laughed when the water splashed all over. When the bubbles were gone Dean had him stand up and wrapped him up in a towel, and it felt--safe. He was happy.

Things weren’t as happy, later. He learned things he’d desperately wanted to know, and regretted it when he did. It got worse, between him and Dad. Between him and Dean sometimes, too, and that was way more gutting. Sometimes Dean would be gone, and it’d just be Sam and Dad, and that was miserable--silent car rides, mechanical conversation. Dinner would be whatever takeout Dad could manage and at bedtime Sam would lay curled up all alone and wish desperately that Dean was there so that even if they kicked at each other and wrestled and Dean called him a dumb squirt, when it was time to actually sleep he could lay his head on Dean’s chest or curl up against his back, and it’d feel safe again, like it never did when Dean was gone.

Thirteen and Sam was all torn-up inside. Dean teased him for not flirting with girls but girls weren’t what Sam wanted. Sure, he liked the stuff he saw sometimes, when a skinmag got left out or when Dean thought he was sneaking a porno when Sam was asleep--tits and pussy, soft skin, pretty lips, pretty faces. There was one Playboy that he about rubbed himself raw over--he got it. But it wasn’t--enough. It wasn’t what he thought about, in the middle of the night, and what he had to creep out of their bed and shut himself into the bathroom and freak out about. Soft skin, and pretty lips, and even--even tits, sure, because--at seventeen Dean was the prettiest thing Sam had ever seen, and even if Dean hit a growth spurt and was getting shoulders like a man and he was all tall, he was still--soft, in their bed, and his body was--was Sam’s, the way all the random pornstars and actresses and girls at school weren’t, and never would be. Dean would make dinner, mac & cheese & hamburger just like Sam liked it, and he’d ruffle Sam’s hair and smile at him, and Sam would chub up right there at the formica table, and he’d eat all strangled-up while Dean yessir nosirred Dad, and he’d use the excuse of reading for school to sneak off to bed early, and lay there in the dark with his face buried in Dean’s pillow, hand crammed down his shorts, thinking--what the hell? what the hell?

Later--it got worse. He left. He met a girl. He tried his best. It didn’t escape his notice that she had soft skin and green eyes and fair hair and that when she wanted to make him dinner for a date night he asked completely unthinking for mac & cheese & hamburger, and she laughed and said, “Really?” but she made it, and it was--higher quality, more skill put in, and wasn’t nearly as good. In bed she didn’t mind if he lay with his head on her chest and felt the rise of her tits, and she liked getting fucked with him spooned up behind her, so that was--okay. He could make it. He--he was almost sure he could make it.

Later--worse again. Better, because there was Dean, but Dean didn’t cook anymore and he didn’t share Sam’s bed, and he wore a big square leather jacket that made him look like he was trying to be Dad. They were brothers, of course, and Dean teased and got mad, but it wasn’t--it wasn’t the same as it had been. It was harder. Some days when it was the worst it could be Sam went and hid in the bathroom and everything in him wanted to just curl up, get taken care of. Wanted those old days, of baths and food, of Dean touching his hair like he did, of warmth, of softness. They weren’t on the table though, and he didn’t think they ever would be again. It wasn’t worth pining for, though, because there was work to be done, so: he squared his shoulders, and washed his face, and went out and faced the world.

Later--Dean kissed him. He kissed Dean, and then they did rather more than kissing. The world they’d saved didn’t end. They really were the days of miracles. Finally getting to touch Dean like he’d always dreamed about didn’t fix things, but it sure didn’t make them worse, and the world still rattled on ridiculously and had to be saved over and over again, but--

They end up living in a bunker. Ridiculous, but it could be worse. Dean picks a room, says, “This is going to be awesome,” and he’s happy in a way he hasn’t been in months and so Sam smiles at him, and fucks him right there on the ancient creaking bed, and Dean gasps and eggs him on and then afterward, when they’re laying next to each other and panting, he says, “Man, this mattress sucks,” and he goes shopping.

They have some downtime. No worlds ending, right away. Dean throws himself into the bunker the same way Sam throws himself into the bunker’s records, and while Sam categorizes knowledge and history and lore Dean nests like Sam never knew he could. New soft mattress, new clothes. He cooks again and it’s--amazing. Sam moans, with that first bite of friggin’ perfect hamburger, and Dean grins at him and squeezes his shoulder, and it--oh. Something swirls warm in Sam’s stomach and he swallows, wonders. Remembering.

“I gotta learn to make pie,” Dean says, in bed that night, and Sam kisses the back of his shoulder, doesn’t think much of it, until the next day Dean comes back home from the store with a box of fresh peaches, and Sam comes over to investigate just as Dean bites into one and the ripe smell of the sunwarm skin drifts over Dean’s shoulder, and Sam’s--hard, instantly, his whole body turning on all at once like someone found his levers and threw every one to max.

“Whoa,” Dean says, when Sam grabs him, but he grins and revs up right away because Dean always does. He kisses back, easy, tasting like peach, and Sam groans and drags him to the table, settles him on his ass and starts stripping him, right there. Dean laughs, letting Sam tug off his boots. “We haven’t fucked in here yet, this is awesome,” he says, but Sam’s thinking of--god, his ass, and he goes to his knees on the concrete floor, spreads him wide, licks in. Dean groans wild, up above, gets his hand in Sam’s hair, and--and Sam can’t wait, he can’t wait, but he eats at Dean sloppy and pushes in his fingers and makes him as soft as he can, as open, knowing at least that Dean wants it as much as he does. When Dean’s moaning he stands up, undoes his jeans--spits wet for his dick, fists himself and pushes in--and Dean flinches up into it but moans, wraps his legs around Sam’s hips and his arms around Sam’s shoulders, and Sam shudders and buries his face down by Dean’s throat and crams himself in, overcome.

God, god--Dean still smells like peach, his fingers juicy-sticky as he touches Sam’s cheek, his hair. “Fuck,” Sam says, digging in deeper, and Dean hiccups almost as Sam starts grinding in, not enough wet to make it easy but god, he’s tight and warm, letting Sam in. “That good? God, you feel--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean pants back, digging a heel into Sam’s ass, and Sam spits more wet down between them and then starts really giving it to Dean, shoving in, wild--and he starts talking too, because he never can seem to help himself and Dean loves it, anyway, goes bright red and laughs and comes faster when Sam’s telling him all the ridiculous nasty things he’s thinking, and Sam’s going hard, holding Dean’s ass up with one hand and bracing himself with the other and talking soft into Dean’s ear and smelling it, everywhere, like the whole kitchen’s full of that ancient memory, and he babbles you feel so good, you’re incredible, I want to fuck you like this all the time, god, Dean, your pussy’s perfect and Dean gasps, grabs Sam’s hair, because they’ve played with that a little before but it always drives Dean absolutely nuts--and Sam groans and leans into it, slamming him, feeling his gut curl up tight and Dean’s breath come faster, and he says yeah, yeah you like that, me talking about your pussy, god--I’m gonna come in there, cream you up, and you want it, don’t you? you want it like that, up inside, want me to get you all knocked up, get you pregnant--

“Sammy,” Dean says, clawing at Sam’s shoulder, arching up, and Sam presses his face down into Dean’s throat and hitches his ass into just the right place and the words come like from the pit of his gut, no passing his brain, no hesitation--he says, “You’re gonna be so good, Mom--” and he comes then--hard, brutal--curling forward, gasping, and Dean’s tight around him and his hands are in Sam’s hair and he’s holding him deep, warm, safe, and Sam comes back to normal brain function only slowly, and only when Dean’s stroking his shoulders, slow and soft, does Sam realize what he said.

“Jesus,” he blurts out, jerking, and Dean makes a soft ah sound as Sam twitches, still buried inside. “Jesus--sorry, I--”

“Wondered how long it’d take,” Dean says, dry, but he’s still all wrapped up around Sam and still, oh, hard--Sam didn’t take care of him, god--and Sam starts to shift up, away, but Dean holds him, keeps his head down tight against his shoulder. Sam braces, curled over, awkward now that he’s not wound up with his dick doing the thinking. “Sammy.”

He closes his eyes. “Sorry.”

Dean flicks the back of his head. “Quit it.” Sam licks his lips. Dean pets his hair back, gentle like he still is, sometimes. “You been thinking about that, huh? New level of freaky, even for us, you know.” It’s surprisingly quiet and nonjudgmental, considering. Sam shifts, his dick still half-hard. “What’ve you been coming up with in that massive noggin? What--me all barefoot in the kitchen? Your little wife?”

“Not exactly,” Sam says, mortified, and Dean hums thoughtfully and then squeezes Sam’s hips between his thighs, and then he picks up Sam’s head from his shoulder and presses a kiss against his forehead, soft, and that’s--

“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean says, easy, and his face is bright red but he--he gets it, all the way, because Dean always knows what Sam wants when it comes to this even if Sam’s too fucked-up about it to say it, has known ever since that first time when Sam was torn up with wanting him and Dean said fuck this and dragged Sam’s head down to kiss him, the night unfurling with possibility around them. Dean smiles at him, soft, and tucks Sam’s hair behind his ears, and he says, impossibly he says: “I’ve got you, baby. Let’s finish up and I’ll make you some dinner, okay? Whatever you want.”

Sam’s mouth feels dry. “Mac and cheese,” he says, brainless, hardening up again, and Dean half-laughs, nods, says, “Sure thing,” and Sam pushes up and kisses him, grateful, and Dean holds him, safe.

[entityneo]

Honestly asking, out of the many misses you did with this comics, which is the one you regret the most

Oooh, that’s an interesting question! Let’s see….

I think the most regrettable thing about some of the art goofs is the fact that some of them have now been immortalized in the book I printed but also in some of the fan dubs. Long time followers probably remember how rough and dirty the pages used to look.

I’ve been much more aggressive about cleaning up messy scratches and I try to use a template for each page, but things always manage to slip past me. Even after I corrected the first chapter’s pages, I still managed to miss a few speech bubbles that I left white before I started making all the speech bubbles black consistently.

Page 60 is one of my biggest grievances. I actually spotted it years ago when I first inked the page. I drew Napstablook’s hair the wrong direction! I was so upset at the time but I later experimented with drawing the hair the other direction. In the end, I actually ended up liking the error better aesthetically so I kept it. Sort of like what happened with the cover for Chapter 1. Sometimes goofs make for better pictures lol.

I’ve made some mistakes so frequently that I finally gave up on them. The one that comes to mind is Flowey’s petals. He canonically has 6, but sometimes I goof and give him 5. I’ve messed up on his petals so many times that I’d probably get another update done by the time I’d fix them all. Plus I can’t bring myself to fix what is already beautiful in some instances.

Actually, I’ve fixed some of these pages since you sent me this. It was good that you did! It made me realize how many little details I blanked over. I’ve now fixed the arm cannon’s shell on some of the early pages in Chapter 3 and also the balcony in Chapter 15 when Alphys is giving her speech.

Honestly, it’s tough to focus on everything when I’m speeding to get an update done. Definitely not excusing some of the more egregious errors (thanks Rockium for bringing the claws in Chapter 2 to my attention!) but yeah, it’s funny what details I do and don’t notice.

I’ve also fixed very small mistakes like scribbled edges like these ones below.

Actually, I also have a handful of entire chapters that I dislike aesthetically. I think I went through a dark age with Chapters 16-21. I’ve been tempted many times to redo ALL of them (at least fix the very sloppy pages and clean up the nicer ones). I’d definitely make it a priority if I ever decide to make a book 2…

I think the funniest errors are the ones where I accidentally put the wrong font on the wrong character. Alphys has accidentally spoken in comic sans a couple of times where I had to stop and fix it in the middle of Mod Migosp posting all the pages.

Oh and of course, the official merchandise made me hang my head in shame upon seeing the bunny npc from Snowdin without a body on the Undertale Vinyl Album Collection. Probably another error I’ll roll with (especially since all merch isn’t canon besides Burgerpants’s face in the Mettaton poster according to Toby himself.)

Well, that was an extremely long answer to your question! I guess for me, I have to remind myself that I’m essentially a one-person art team who’s basically illustrating a very long-winded graphic novel. I kick myself pretty hard when I find out about these errors, but I also feel honored that our followers hold our work to a high standard enough to show us when we make mistakes. 

I want to make sure I can make our work retain a quality that you guys deserve and that I can look back on and be proud of. I’m glad this comic forces me to continue working traditionally too. I’ve been mostly working digitally these days so it’s good to keep it up with the ink!

— Mod NEO

[og-danny-dorito]

Don't Fear The Reaper : FRANK CASTLE X READER

{ A/N :

This was done as my take on the prompt provided by @sparkingstoryinspiration (https://sparkingstoryinspiration.tumblr.com/post/189917527227/write-a-story-including-a-set-of-three-things#_=_). This is sort of short considering I'm mainly just trying to test out my writing again, although I may do a part two if someone seems interested enough. I asked people to choose and they chose #1) an old classic, a headache, blushing cheeks. Basically I'm reusing my favorite scenario, “Buff Sad Bad Mercenary Man Gets Medical Care From Sweet Person Who Likes Them For Some Reason”. Anyway, please enjoy this little Frank Castle x Reader thing I put together that is in no way shape or form a piece of quality.

   - Danny ✌🏼👽 }

<---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->

  A pain throbs on the side of his head, sending shock waves down his neck at every slight bump in the music that the speaker produces. He can feel his spine relaxing into the padding of the couch, head falling back as he feels his muscles tense at the feeling of much warmer skin against his own.

   You've known each other since you were kids, and ever since you found out you lived fairly close by, you visited one another considerably more often than the years where he was in the military and you were off doing your own thing after he left. To find that his new occupation was a justice-handie-outie-guy (a name which he hated, but you could see the dumb grin when you said it to him in a mocking or joking way) was more than a surprise, and yet you hadn't expected much less after he told you how it came to be.

  You decided to act as a shoulder for him to lean on from that day forth, a crutch, if you will, for when he needed it. For old times’ sake partially, but for other reasons as well. Often times, he didn't take the crutch when he had to, which earned him very long lectures about how he should take care of himself because other people cared about him. Apparently your most recent lecture, which was two weeks ago, didn't get through his thick skull well enough.

  The stitches on his arm are more neatly done than when you had done them the first time, considering he only needs five and he seems to be much less nervous with you near an open wound. You'd give yourself the victory of having gotten them to be laid down neatly enough to seem almost like they were done by a real doctor. Well, you just hope they'll function like a doctors' stitches, anyway. You wouldn't want him bleeding all over the place like he had before; even though this old apartment was beyond saving, you at least wanted to keep it clean.

  "So let me get this straight-” Frank rolls his eyes, seeming to raise a brow at you. You're glancing up at him now, vaguely interested in what he has to say. “-you walked in without a plan, and walked out with 10 dead bodies to add to the count and more potential scars too?", you ask, almost disapprovingly. The beginning of 'Don't Fear The Reaper' by Blue Ouster Cult seemed to soon fade into the air, causing you to bop your head and mouth the lyrics as you reached for a patch to place on his arm. A bit ironic, but you don't have much to fear around Frank. Under all the muscle he's really thoughtful. At least thoughtful enough to take his shoes off at the door.

   While you appreciated the gesture, you sure it's excusable when he's bleeding out. 

   He grunts in response, his arm draped over his eyes as he extends his right arm to you and uses the left one to prop himself up on the couch as soon as you're done with the patch. Rolling your eyes at the stubborn grunt he gives, you place a few light fingers on the wound below his ribs, causing him to flinch a little. Your eye flickers up in a wave of concern, although he seems to avoid eye contact, embarrassed a bit.

  I mean, this isn't the first time he ended up on your couch in need of medical attention, nor is it the first time you had seen him half naked and/or basically fully naked. But you understand why he feels embarrassed when he flinches or seemes uncomfortable with something. "...I didn't have much time to make a plan."

  You raise your head at the statement, seeming to look at him with a small smile. He looks you in the eyes for a split second, both of his arms moving to rest on the seat of your couch to pull himself up a bit more. You have to admit that he's toned as fuck, and considering the happy trail that you notice he hadn't gotten rid of had grown a bit more made you feel a little like you shouldn't be watching so intently. Is that weird? I mean, if you see someone naked enough times you start to notice shit, and you can't help but feel grateful that his tshirt was technically ripped to bits by now from knife wounds. Not...that you wanted him to have knife wounds. What are you even thinking about?

  With a grin, you raise a brow and turn the music down a little. Your hands are sort of small compared to his chest, he notices, and your skin feels soft against his, although they may be scarred in some places. It's soothing- more soothing that patching himself up. But he wouldn't say that out loud. "They spotted you, or did they know you were coming?", you ask, placing a bandage on the laceration (you looked up what that meant the other day, and just thinking about the word made you feel pretty fucking smart). Frank sighs, his head rolling back. His neck extends to show where he hasn't shaved in a while. Something must be catching up to him lately, usually he'd at least groom himself.

  "I was sloppy and didn't cover my tracks." The response is half-sigh, and his voice rumbles in his throat. He feels the soreness building up from the intense conditions he had undergone earlier. Turns out it doesn't matter how fit you are; if you fight 10 guys on your own you still end up getting sore after it's over. Humans are designed pretty stupidly, at least that's what's he's thinking now. "How so? I'm assuming you mean you didn't get all dressed in spy gear or they saw you on their fancy cameras-" "You remember that one time when you got into the makeup drawer in my mom's bathroom and then forgot to sweep up the footprints in the powder all over the floor?" 

  You suddenly feel your face heat up, your eyes narrowing as you give a pointed glare at him. You can feel the embarrassment going through your body as you roll your eyes, glancing at him. He's grinning like a smug bastard, although that isn't far from what he is. "It's not like you to get all sentimental on me, big guy; you getting soft?" The weak rebuttal gains a snort from him, and in turn you laugh a little and shake your head.

  There are a few moments of silence that pass between you as he lay there, and for a good few moments you aren't sure whether he's asleep or not. But his occasional movement to check your progress leads you to believe that he’s only half asleep. Frank focuses on the touch of your skin against his. The gentleness of your hands is surprising regardless of your often harsh words. Your breathing stops when you were focused; something he noticed a while ago. That and you looked really cute when you were very focused on something. The music starts to have that's segment where it has the guitar solo, and you seem a little caught up in it before opening your mouth to speak.

  "Look, Frank...", you start, avoiding eye contact by focusing on his abdomen. He can feel himself sighing a little. "Another lecture, doc? I'll wait a good few days before I get myself into trouble again." Frank looks down to see you smile and snort a little. "Well that too, but I wanted to let you know...that you can come here for whatever." You sit up, looking him in the eyes. It seems to only just now restrict him that you are not in fact his hip size, and now that you're eye level he feels much more tense. But not enough to run. "It doesn't just need to be when you're hurt or like...- yeah. Anything you need I got it for you, man.", you say, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

  The song had long since died out to another one that he isn't sure of, causing him to feel a slight unease in not being able to predict which beats and notes will come next. He'd never liked unpredictability, but he's almost certain that he can't avoid it. You soon look down from staring at his unchanging facial expression with a grin, but this one seems more...sad. If that's the word for it. More dismal. "Is it cool if I uh-"

  He clears his throat after the failed statement, causing you to raise your head with a slight look of surprise. "Is it cool if I spend the night? Might not wanna- yknow -walk with stitches in my leg..." The excuse seems to be satisfying enough to you, and you grin. Nodding, you slowly stand up. Aw shit- you're kinda cute when you smile- "Yessir it is, but be careful if you wanna take a shower because the cat likes to sit in there whenever someone's in the room.", you respond, running a hand over your head. You leave the room in pursuit of leftovers, causing him to feel a moment of clenching tightness in his chest.

Shit, he might be getting soft.

<----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------> 

[azozzoni]

I’m bored so I’m posting this today instead of tomorrow: Part 4. If you want to talk about VDS, I’m down.

*

“Hey.” 

Lucas looked up as he stuffed his textbooks away, heading for the classroom door. Kes fell into step beside him.

“You okay?”

Frowning, Lucas didn’t want to think why Kes was asking him that. Because he was a good friend, he thought as they left the class, because that was the kind of person Kes was. Not because he’d been spacing out in class again thinking about Jens and the next time they were going to see each other.

“Fine,” he said, shrugging. He didn’t ask why Kes asked, but Kes seemed to watch him anyway as they headed down the hall.

“You’ve been acting weird,” he said, and Lucas didn’t meet his gaze. Weird could mean anything. “Is it your mom?”

Outside, rain fell in a gentle pitter-pat on the concrete and Lucas paused as they reached the front door. His mom was the only excuse Kes had, could think to reason away the way Lucas had been acting lately. Kes had no way of knowing it was something else entirely.

“She’s fine,” he said, shaking his head, yanking up the zipper on his jacket.

Kes didn’t reply right away, and Lucas didn’t check to see that same concerned look on his face. He knew it was there. It always was these days.

He wondered how easy it would be to just tell Kes, to admit that there was someone who actually made him excited to get text messages, someone who wasn’t just a friend.

Lucas wasn’t totally sure what Jens was, but it was more than just a friend.

Like ripping off a bandaid, he told himself as he paused at the front door, watching the rain drizzle down the pane. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could just get it over with.

“So if everything is fine, you’re coming to the party Noah’s friends are throwing on Saturday?”

Another party filled with drunk people, people Lucas didn’t care about. He knew Kes was watching him, though, searching for some kind of answer.

They’d never kept secrets before, not until last year when Lucas had broken up him and Isa. Not intentionally but also yeah, kind of intentionally. It was the guilt welling up inside that made Lucas flash Kes a smile and shove open the front door.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, stepping out into the rain and heading for his bike locked up at the rack.

Kes didn’t follow, and Lucas let out a sigh as he got his bike unlocked and headed for home.

By the time he sloshed into the front hall, he was soaked, coat dripping as he peeled it off and hung it up on the rack.

“Lucas!” his mom called as he snuck down the hall.

Grimacing, he paused. “What?”

“Your dad called,” she said, her voice coming from the kitchen, but Lucas didn’t head that way. Instead, he rolled his eyes. His dad couldn’t have anything useful to say. “He says you haven’t returned his call in over a week.”

“Then he should take the hint,” Lucas muttered under his breath. “Okay!” he called back instead, as if that put an end to the conversation.

In his room, he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his damp socks before flopping onto his bed and pulling out his phone.

Now he had to go to the party, to act like he actually wanted to fucking spend his night watching couples make out and getting sloppy drunk. He could think of a million other things he’d rather do, but he didn’t know how to explain that to Kes.

Scrolling through his phone, Lucas paused at his dad’s name on the recent call list. He had no intention of calling him back--it would just be more of the same, pretending to care about him, pretending to care about his mom as if he hadn’t walked out on both of them last year.

He scrolled further, eyes falling on Jens’ name. He’d never actually called Jens on the phone, but it had been a few weeks since they’d last met up, a few weeks since Lucas had seen his face or heard his voice.

He still wasn’t sure what this was, this thing with Jens, and part of him didn’t care. It wasn’t as if Jens was around all the time, going to school with him, around every corner. It made things easier but also more confusing.

It was definitely something, he admitted as he stared at Jens’ name. They’d made out both times they’d met up, and there was that time they’d jerked off together in the dead of night, hundreds of miles apart but connected somehow. Lucas tried not to think of that night, to let his mind wander to it in class, think of the pictures Jens had sent, so brazen, so bold. It was easy to get lost in the memory, easy to get lost in the fantasy of what they could do if they were together. No wonder Kes thought he was acting weird.

Shaking himself, Lucas scooted back on the bed, sitting cross-legged against the headboard as he clicked on Jens’ name and brought up Facetime.

The phone rang before he could overthink this, and he took a breath, waiting nervously. Jens might not even pick up. He might be busy or with friends or…

“Hey.” Jens’ face appeared, and Lucas let out the breath as Jens smiled at him through the screen.

“Hi,” he said, watching the screen jostle. “Bad time?”

“Just heading home,” Jens said, and Lucas caught sight of what might have been a tree in the background. He smirked at Lucas. “And where are you?”

“I’m home,” Lucas said, flashing the phone around his bedroom for a second.

“Was that a Donnie Darko poster back there?” Jens asked as Lucas turned the screen back to him. He shrugged and Jens laughed. The background shifted from bright to dark as Jens kept walking, maybe entered a building. “You’re as bad as Sander.”

Lucas didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t ask. He wondered what Jens’ room looked like--he bet it was messy, clothes all over the floor, hoodies and beanies and shoes in jumbled piles.

Setting his arm on his knee, Lucas sighed, watching Jens climb stairs and hearing the squeak of a door.

“So you just wanted to see my pretty face?” Jens asked and the screen stopped moving finally.

“Just wanted to say hi,” Lucas admitted. He hadn’t really had a plan when he’d called Jens. He just hadn’t wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

“Well, I like seeing your pretty face,” Jens said, and Lucas was glad the camera wasn’t great quality because he definitely blushed at that.

“Shut up,” he said instead, rolling his eyes.

He didn’t know how Jens could be so smooth, if he practiced it, or if he was just that confident. Lucas could do it, with girls, where nothing was at stake. But it seemed when it came to people he actually liked, he turned into a blushing mess.

Jens smirked, holding the camera closer. Lucas could see a bed over his shoulder, unmade, pillows smushed together.

“So what’s up with you?”

What was up with him, Lucas thought as he watched Jens through the phone. Kes knew something was going on, that Lucas was keeping something from him—his dad wouldn’t stop calling for God knew what reason—his mom seemed to think it was important they keep in contact even though he’d done nothing but abandon them—and he couldn’t stop thinking about that night Jens had texted him. 

“Just the usual,” he said finally, picking at his comforter, only looking up when Jens hummed softly.

“And what’s the usual?”

They hadn’t talked, not really, not a real conversation, Lucas thought as he paused. He wasn’t sure he did that with anyone anymore. Even Kes, the person he was supposed to be able to tell everything to, even they hadn’t talked in a long time.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, setting his chin on his knee and sighing. “My dad keeps calling, like I want to talk to him, and my mom, it feels like she’s on his side sometimes, even though he’s the one who left.”

“Shit,” Jens said after a second, and Lucas laughed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. There wasn’t much more to say in his opinion.

Jens frowned, shoving his hair back. “I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but your mom might be right.”

“Right about what?”

“That you should talk to him. You might regret not doing it later.”

At that, Lucas glanced up, at Jens’ shrug. “Why does that sound like you know what you’re talking about?”

“My parents have been divorced a long time. They get along okay now, but at first, they fought constantly and I always felt like I was in the middle. It took me a long time to realize it wasn’t about me, and I shouldn’t punish one or the other for what happened.”

Lucas looked away. “I don’t think it’s the same with my mom. He left because of her, because he couldn’t handle it, and he expects me to understand somehow.”

“Then it’s his loss,” Jens said, and Lucas looked back, at the slight smile at Jens’ lips.

“Do you pre-plan those lines?” he asked, and Jens scoffed, making a face at the camera, faking offense. “Or are you just that smooth?”

Jens licked his lips, gaze intent as he watched Lucas through the screen. “I’m just that smooth. And you’re just that cute.”

“Cute?” Lucas repeated, eyebrows rising, and Jens grinned. 

“Hot, totally hot,” he corrected himself. “But I doubt your dad cares about that.”

Lucas grimaced. “I hope not.” Sighing, he leaned back against the board, checking out the window. It was still raining, the sky dark and grey. He wished he could just stay here, on the phone with Jens for as long as he wanted, that he didn’t have to go to school tomorrow and see Kes’ calculating look, as though trying to figure out what secret he was keeping.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he asked suddenly, turning back to the screen.

Jens tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know. Why? You have something in mind?”

His heart was pounding against his throat as Lucas considered his next words carefully. “I have a thing Saturday night, but maybe you could come over earlier and we could hang out.”

“Hang out?” Jens repeated, and Lucas forced himself not to hold his breath. “Like a date?”

“No,” Lucas said quickly, shaking his head. “I mean, not if you don’t want to. It, it could just—why are you smiling like that?”

Jens brought up a hand to cover his mouth, but there was no hiding his grin, and Lucas huffed. Jesus, he was terrible at this. Was it so laughable, the idea of dating him? Maybe hooking up was all they were good for.

“You’re nervous,” Jens said after a second, lowering his hand, but he was still smiling. “You’re nervous about asking me out.”

“Fuck you,” Lucas said with no heat behind it, feeling the flush on his cheeks again. “I’ve never asked a guy out before.”

He’d never even wanted to ask a guy out before, to do anything more than stare longingly at a pretty face, wish Kes would touch him the same way he touched Isa. Now, it was Jens he thought about when he thought about people touching him--a hand on his shoulder, fingers gliding over his hip bones, hot breath on his neck that wiped out all rational thought. Maybe they weren’t the dating type exactly, but they could still hang out, spend time together without it being weird.

“Come on,” Jens said easily, leaning into the camera. “You totally picked me up that first night.”

“I offered you weed,” Lucas reminded him. He hadn’t done it very well, only after Ralph practically forced him from his chair.

“Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Jens replied, and he smiled again, softer, nodding his head. “Sure, I’ll go out with you, Luc.”

Lucas sighed, somewhat in relief, feeling stupid for worrying. Jens liked him. He shouldn’t have been questioning that fact at least. After all, they’d made out, jerked off together, the promise of later lingering in the air, of next time. Lucas always swallowed down that thought, of what would happen next time.

“So, Saturday?” he asked, and Jens nodded, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Saturday.”

It was a date, Lucas thought as he leaned back against the headboard and smiled as Jens went on about whatever stupid things his friends had done that day. A date with a cute boy. Nothing could ruin this.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 31/10/2020 (Ariana Grande, KSI, Little Mix)

I haven’t heard that Ariana Grande album yet as of writing this but the lead single – and title track �� “positions” has just debuted at #1 on the UK Singles Chart, her seventh song to hit the top and second this year after “Rain on Me” with Lady Gaga. Hence, that’s today’s #1 and we have a busy and pretty chaotic week of new arrivals. Welcome to REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

A lot of their debuts from last week were completely wiped out on this week’s chart which surprises me, especially for songs I thought would hit it big like “One More Time” by Not3s and AJ Tracey. Our notable dropouts here range from bonafide smash hits like “Roses” by SAINt JHN and remixed by Imanbek, which hit #1, although I always preferred “Swoosh” from the same album, to pretty easy and quick fall outs from songs I’ve reviewed in the past few weeks. We’ve got songs that peaked in the top 10 like “Rover” by S1mba and DTG and “I Dunno” by Dutchavelli, Tion Wayne and Stormzy but otherwise that’s mostly it as a lot of these drop-outs are just songs that didn’t really reach their charting potential or have mostly had their day in streaming, like the surprisingly quick drop for “my ex’s best friend” by Machine Gun Kelly and blackbear, as well as “Destiny” by D-Block Europe, “Tap In” by Saweetie, “FRANCHISE” by Travis Scott, Young Thug and M.I.A., “OK Not to Be OK” by Marshmello and Demi Lovato, “Airplane Mode” by Nines and NSG and even “Outta Time” by Bryson Tiller and Drake. If you’re worried about the loss of MGK’s song being too soon for whatever reason, don’t fret as “forget me too” with Halsey, a much better song, is here at #72, our only returning entry for the week. I might as well run through the biggest gains and falls, those both being last week’s debuts. “Train Wreck” by James Arthur absolutely surged up to #24 whilst “Hold” by Chunkz and Young Filly absolutely purged down to #59. To be fair to the general public, I think I’d rather listen to something from four years ago than that song as well. Anyway, let’s start our new arrivals with a couple really interesting choices...

NEW ARRIVALS

#75 – “Sofia” – Clairo

Produced by Rostam

Clairo is one of those artists where I feel completely out of the loop on, especially with all the recent buzz from TikTok, and I was not checking for that album last year, and whilst I didn’t mind her feature on Wallows’ “Are You Bored Yet”, I’d never been intrigued enough to check out the solo work until I guess here we see it on the chart, which is big for the genre of bedroom pop, which again I know next to nothing about. Now, I like lo-fi indie rock fine, but I’ve never really tried to look into the bedroom pop micro-genre – if anyone has any recommendations, that would be appreciated – so this will pretty much be a first gaze into not just Clairo but the entire scene surrounding her. I’m not a Vampire Weekend fan by any means but Rostam on production just give me hope, even if the mix here is a bit too drowned in reverb and echo to give the guitars any more impact when they really should have, at least I think so, they’re pushed back in a way that makes an already pretty calm, fleeting indie single even more lacking sonically. Clairo sounds great on this instrumentation, admittedly, albeit kind of uninterested, but it really is about that fuzzy distortion in the drop that feels... oddly anti-climactic and seemingly pointless considering how little progression is made before or after it. Maybe this genre just isn’t for me, but I feel myself turned off from how Clairo’s pretty beautiful vocal harmonies are not reflected by the production here, whether it be the stiff percussion, abrupt ending or overall lack of substance. This is kind of disappointing as I really wanted to like this. The song is a pretty vague but longing ballad mostly revolving around her crushes on people she saw in the mind, particularly Sofia Vergara and Sofia Coppola, hence the name, and I think it’s actually really well-written. I especially love how the chorus seems to acknowledge that not only are these crushes clearly out of her reach as a teenage girl just discovering her sexuality but also mentioning how afraid she is to really develop on any of these feelings because of how it’s prejudiced against and in some countries outlawed, but the song easily works as just a confession of love without really realising the statement, so it doesn’t feel forced or unnecessary. Sadly, I guess Rostam had to put his prints on this one, but the song itself isn’t bad at all. Hey, I’m not going to complain about a song where I can look at pictures of Sofia Coppola for “research”.

#74 – “All Girls are the Same” – Juice WRLD

Produced by Nick Mira

It’s so odd and kind of heartbreaking to see the Genius comments for this track where they say Juice is “up next for 2018”. It’s also pretty amusing to see some of these annotations...

God, I love Genius.com. This is a 2017 Juice WRLD track from the late rapper that was released as a single from his debut album, Goodbye & Good Riddance. I don’t really understand why this had a resurgence – again, I’m going to assume TikTok or some kind of remix – but it is funny to see a bitter, immature and sloppily-written song about heartbreak and how “all girls are the same” next to a lesbian love ballad on the chart... and above said ballad because we clearly live in a society. I’m not going to mince words here: this is a pretty bad song, at least in my opinion. All respect to Juice but he’s clearly not on top form here, with an uninterested and badly-mixed vocal delivery over a really dull, jingly trap beat with awful bass mastering. In fact, the whole song is mixed awfully and sounds really muddy which may have been the point but it doesn’t complement Juice at all. The lyrics here are purposefully immature and at times stupid, especially when he compares himself to John Lennon and is so desperate for a rhyme the dude says this unnamed girl is from Colorado. I’m not going to deny some of the lyrics here are kind of haunting now due to tragic circumstances but I still get a chuckle out of the vocoder on his voice after massive empty spaces in both the beat and vocal track that makes the song sound clearly amateurish (to be fair to Juice, he clearly didn’t have access to the best studio equipment but it doesn’t excuse the major-label streaming release sounding this sloppy), as well as that opening line.

Broke my heart, oh, no, you didn’t!

Yeah, I’ll take “Robbery” over this any day, or even “Righteous”. Sorry.

#73 – “Martin & Gina” – Polo G

Produced by Hagan, Lilkdubb and Tahj Money

It seems we have two melancholy trap-rappers from Chicago appear consecutively on the chart. I love those types of oddities. If you don’t know Polo G, you probably should, at least from his hit “Pop Out” with Lil Tjay last year, and this is his most recent hit. I typically find his brand of mournful Auto-Tuned crooning about life on the streets remarkably genuine in comparison to most rappers but also admittedly really boring, at least for now. I can see this guy becoming a lot bigger and better but as of now he releases so much music and the quality and effort seems to fall by the wayside more often than not. In typical 2000s bling-rap fashion, this hardcore street rapper’s biggest hit from the album The GOAT (perhaps a bit early to call there, Mr. G) is a guitar-based R&B love jam for the ladies, except it’s not a sex jam...

Girl, I can’t wait ‘til I get home to f*** the s*** out of you

Okay, well, that’s one line.

Man, I’m tryin’ to get to know you sexually

Okay, but at least he’s trying to get to know her. The song’s lyrics do have a genuine heartfelt sense of love and companionship with his unnamed woman, and some of these lyrics are pretty funny and pleasant, albeit shallow. I love how in the first verse he says that even on her worst days she still looks “kind of cute”, in a way that makes this song more down to Earth than other thugs-need-love-too songs, especially when he acknowledges the troubles in their relationship, which may be undermined by the unfortunate implications that come with that “Martin & Gina” comparison but that’s really not the focus of the song, even if it is the title. He may talk about the shopping sprees now but there is evidence here that Polo G genuinely wants to live his life with this woman, especially when he says he wants them to move out to California and live in a mansion. There’s flexing there for sure but it’s less out of a desire to sound “cooler” than the other rappers or the audience, and more out of a desire to make the most out of this relationship in case, as he knows he might have to, he should “pull the stick out and shoot” to protect her. It helps that this is a damn good song with Polo’s catchy flow in both the verses and that infectious chorus, as well as a really slick guitar lick behind that trap knock. Yeah, this is pretty great. Check it out.

#71 – “Spicy” – Ty Dolla $ign featuring Post Malone

Produced by Ty Dolla $ign, Westen Weiss and damn james!

It seems that Ty Dolla $ign has finally clocked that people like him for his features and not his solo work as he has released his most recent album fittingly named Featuring Ty Dolla $ign, following a trend of recent massive collaborative albums in pop music. This particular album features the likes of Kid Cudi, Kanye West (twice), Anderson .Paak, Nicki Minaj, Big Sean, Future, Young Thug, FKA twigs because, well, sure, and obviously, Post Malone. I haven’t listened to the album yet, I mean it sounds exhausting but I don’t necessarily like what I’ve heard. “Expensive” with Nicki Minaj is soulless, “Ego Death” with Skrillex, Kanye and FKA twigs is chaotically misguided and a massive disappointment, “Track 6” with Kanye, .Paak and Thundercat is way too boring for these four artists, and that’s all I’ve heard, except that “Dr. Sebi” interlude with Young Thug that I thought was actually pretty damn good for a one minute snippet. I did brief through some songs on the album right now as I was writing this and I wasn’t really a fan of any of it, not even the songs with Future and Young Thug, artists I actually really like. The song with Kid Cudi was pretty amazing though, which I pretty much expected, I mean it is Cudi after all and he’s really felt revived this year, even if he feels out of place on a sex song. The serpentwithfeet interlude definitely adds to that song though, and it actually leads into this track with Post Malone. This is their second collaboration after their #1 hit “Psycho”, but it’s a lot less interesting, replacing the serenity and smooth flows with more fast-paced trap skitters, hit-and-miss flows that only make Ty$ sound all that great in the tail-end of his verse. Post’s verse is out of place and feels like a regression for him, with the verse sounding like it was taken straight out of the Stoney sessions. The guys have no chemistry and Post doesn’t even contribute to a final chorus, which feels particularly odd as there’s not a bridge to round any of this out properly as it just transitions awkwardly to the sixth track, titled “Track 6”. At least Ty$ isn’t facing 15 years in jail for cocaine possession now, which is something I brought up a disproportionate amount of times in older episodes of this show, because, well, sure.

#69 – “Whoopty” – CJ

Produced by Pxcoyo

CJ is an “up-and-coming” rapper with only one song that pretty quickly went viral. There’s something fishy about this. The only other song by CJ on Spotify and I assume other streaming services is this CashmoneyAP-produced trap song called “On Me” that is completely garbage. It does sound pretty odd that while he doesn’t sound dissimilar in “Whoopty”, this uninterested Auto-Tuned mumbler took three years to get another song on streaming and now he’s an energetic New York rapper using a beat that was literally uploaded to the producer’s website as a “Pop Smoke type beat” weeks before “Whoopty” was released, which, by the way, was an immediate viral hit on YouTube. Very strange, very unusual but not very worth talking about as the one thing “On Me” and “Whoopty” have in common is lack of quality. Sure, I like the Indian sample but it’s quickly drowned out by the booming 808s and pretty rote drill beat. Somehow, CJ sounds too energetic and excited to the point where he’s out of place on a beat this menacing. He sounds like a joke made by a record label to create some kind of popular generic drill track and it does not help that there’s a single verse, with part of it repeated as a bridge, and two repetitions of the same over-long chorus. When Pop Smoke rapped over beats, he was aggressive, sure, but had a smoky voice and a lot more charisma than this flat tonal sandpaper CJ brings to the table. It’s almost offensive to Pop Smoke’s legacy that this was rapped over his “type beat”.

#57 – “SO DONE” – The Kid LAROI

Produced by Omar Fedi and Khaled Rohaim

I figured I’d have to talk about this guy at some point, well, what better time than in the midst of a lot of mediocre American hip hop, although this isn’t American, rather it’s actually an Aussie at it this time, with this 17-year-old kid propped up by Internet Money and Lyrical Lemonade and mentored by the late Juice WRLD. This kid really likes capital letters, and naturally I listened to his last hit “GO!” with his mentor Juice... and, yeah, it’s not good. That hook is stupidly infectious – and the pre-chorus is actually more so – but his delivery is obnoxious and unconvincing, especially in comparison to Juice on the same song. Man, I wish that entire song was as good as its pre-chorus. Anyway, this is a new song, not taken from his debut mixtape aptly and rather politely titled F*** LOVE. It uses an unorthodox ukulele loop as its main sample but once again I’m not a fan of this guy’s immature delivery. Maybe in a few years this Kid LAROI will sound less like a Kid LAROI and more like a genuine rapper but right now he is just barely keeping on beat with a jangly pop beat that would sound really interested if accentuated by the right rapper but here it doesn’t work at all. I do actually appreciate some of the lyrics here, even if they are repetitive and vague. Hey, at least they’re family-friendly PG clean for the most part so he’ll get that radio push, but it’s not like it’s matters here in the UK. I’m sure this lad is the hottest thing to come from Australia this year... okay, well, maybe the second hottest – but I’m not a fan, even if some of these melodies are promising. In fact, I really like some of his ideas, especially in the chorus, I just think that tragically, Juice could have done them more justice than this Kid LAROI ever could. Sorry.

#47 – “Bad Guy” – Morrisson and Loski

Produced by BKay and Harry James

Duh. Okay, so these are both UK drill rappers who I’m not very familiar with although I’ve heard of Loski before. Morrisson is a complete unknown to me. They’re both from London, as one would expect. Is the song any good? Well, I do like that chopped violin sample but Morrisson is only vaguely convincing when he claims to know Vinnie Jones and to be Stone Cold Steve Austin, and when he mentions getting “white-boy wasted” with a woman sniffing coke, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but that’s actually the point. I mean, the chorus says this:

You need people like me so you can point your f***ing fingers and say, “That’s the bad guy”

The issue here is I’m not convinced. Morrisson’s double-tracked vocals aren’t intimidating or menacing and are mostly overshadowed by a pretty great beat. His delivery is also something I’m not a fan of and while I can’t say he’s uninterested or not putting his all into it, it just sounds weak, especially when pitted against this beat. Loski is here too, but he doesn’t add much to the “bad guy” idea, especially when he starts talking about The Simpsons and Family Guy. Not Mr. Burns or even that angry chicken that fights Peter, just Stewie, Brian, Bart and Homer. Admittedly, “shell out the whip like Mario Kart” is a pretty fun line and I appreciate his flow more than Morrisson’s... but, yeah, I’m not really a fan. I like the concept but it misses the mark on execution.

#44 – “Golden” – Harry Styles

Produced by Kid Harpoon and Tyler Johnson

So this is the opening track to Styles’ sophomore effort, Fine Line, an album I thought was mildly entertaining pop rock at best and lazy, absolutely worthless trite at worst. I don’t mind Styles’ take on classic 70’s pop and glam rock but I’ve also never found it interesting, and the songs are at times disjointed and at most times just plain boring. I understand I’m probably alone in this but I really disliked this album and I’m not excited that he’s pushing yet another single. The beeping keys that start the song are immediately met with the crash of a drum beat that sounds as flat as Harry’s singing in that obnoxious, sloppy intro refrain. The verse is equally as awkward, with the song lacking in any kind of substance other than that one line of “You’re so golden” which has been overly annotated by fans on Genius to mean a lot more than it does and should. It’s a confession of love but unlike “Sofia”, there’s very little to grab onto in terms of compassion for the singer and I quickly lose interest in what little story there is to the track. The bridge with the high-pitched guitar squealing and squeaky pitch-shifted murmuring is over and done with as slowly as possible and that refrain of nonsense vocalisations just continues without fear or even self-awareness of how annoying it is. This is probably ultimately harmless but it annoys the hell out of me and whilst I predict success for the track, I really hope against it as I absolutely do not like this at all.

#39 – “Teadrops” – Bring Me the Horizon

Produced by Jordan Fish and Oliver Sykes

Yes, that Bring Me that Horizon. Yes, the metalcore band. At least they used to be metalcore and definitely on that heavier side of Kerrang!-core, but what I’m more amazed by is how they continue to ditch the sound and continue to get bigger as they do so. After 14 years, you’d think these guys would stop getting Top 40 hits – hell, the only other hit they had before 2020 was “Drown” – but this is their third this year! I’ll admit I’m not really up to speed on Bring Me the Horizon – I listened to their last record (which was just fine but honestly probably worth listening to for “wonderful life” alone) but not this EP that the singles have been from, and definitely not their older stuff. For the sake of REVIEWING THE CHARTS, however, I did listen to their earlier singles – you can’t say I don’t do much for this show – and I’m overall not really sure on how to feel about this stuff. I still like “Drown” – and always have – but I’ve never been too big on metalcore so I’m actually surprised how much I really enjoyed the Linkin Park rip on “Sleepwalking” (which I’m impressed I remembered the chorus for). I remember liking the practically nightcore track “ouch” and, yeah, it still slaps. Some tracks are very heavy on the electronic, and “Can You Feel My Heart” is reliant on that vocaloid drop, about two years before that became the norm in pop. Just from a skim of their biggest singles, I’m honestly kind of a fan, especially “Throne”, even if I feel like the EDM influences just kind of go nowhere. Also, none of this screams “metalcore” to me but I don’t know, these guys seem to change their style a lot with the only thing staying consistent being Oliver Sykes, and his tone that shifts between nasal pop-punk-style crooning and chopped-up Auto-Tune growling. I talked to a friend about them and they like their earlier stuff mostly, although he “wouldn’t recommend” their debut album to anybody at all. Another friend said he refuses to listen to their music based on the pretentious title of their third record and honestly I think that’s a pretty fair decision. This song sounds like pretty standard BMTH, or at least from what I can gather from the singles and the formula they follow. It starts with a funky and cute, chirpy electronic groove before it’s drowned out by heavier drums and heavy metal guitar riffs, but this time said electronic groove is less integral to the instrumental and the shift to a funkier bassline in the verse might honestly be for the best, although I do love the way the instrumental is chopped up a bit at the end of each repetition of the chorus. It makes the song sound a lot more unique and even if it sounds just as 2012 as their 2012 stuff, I honestly think that’s fine, especially with that abrupt sharp contrast of his raspy yelling over breakbeats quickly followed by some crooning with light piano backing, which may make the song feel messy or structurally disjointed but honestly it works for the chaotic tone of the track and the angst that is presented in the lyrics. Also, although I haven’t evaluated this band since I watched a couple videos on Kerrang!, this feels oddly nostalgic. Huh. Some additional musings: That falsetto Sykes hits in the chorus is great. My friend said that he couldn’t finish the last album they put out which isn’t a good sign but to be fair to them it was an hour-long IDM record, because, well, sure. I’ve written way too much about Bring Me the bloody Horizon at this point so I’ll just move on but I’ll make sure to check out some of their stuff after this.

#37 – “Loading” – Central Cee

Produced by HARGO

Now back to normality, at least I think so. This is another UK drill artist I’ve never heard of. I like this beat, especially that sample of the horns that I’m surprised wasn’t found by crate-digging but it works pretty well under the drill beat; it sounds like a menacing “gangster” song, especially because of how that sample reminds me of 1930s Chicago. I’m not good on my American (or gang) history so that might be nonsense but you know what I mean, right? Black-and-white footage of men in suits gambling whilst women surround them and they all got their money from drug trafficking and they send out hits. Something like that, I don’t know. The song is kind of boring though, this Cee guy has zero charisma and the references to COVID make this immediately dated (not that this song is lyrically all that interesting anyway), and by two minutes the beat has run its course and just starts getting annoying. Yeah, not much to say about this one at all, but it could have been better.

#8 – “Sweet Melody” – Little Mix

Produced by Peoples, MNEK, Morten “Rissi” Ristorp, Oliver Frid and Tayla Parx

I wonder if now that I listened to Bring Me the Horizon for half an hour straight that the last four songs all sound worse, or at least less interesting, in comparison. Well, I doubt that really, I think these songs will just end up being less interesting. I mean, five separate producers on a simple three-minute pop track? This’ll be as market-tested and manufactured as possible, as one would expect from Little Mix. I didn’t mind their last couple promo singles but this song seems to have some actual traction and even a high-budget video behind it and hence it debuted as high as #8. Well, is it any good? Well, it’s no 2013 Bring Me the Horizon, that’s for sure. Jokes aside, the nonsense vocal refrain is kind of awkward and the R&B production here is kind of minimal and just... off, particularly in the first verse and refrain, where the singing and hard 808 is met with only accompaniment from one stray snare that is just... there? The drop doesn’t feel like it has a proper build-up either, and doesn’t even feel like it lives up to that non-existent tension. I do love the harmonies towards the end of the track and the “he would lie, he would cheat over syncopated beats” line is kind of a bar, I suppose, but yeah, this production is awkward and I’m not sure if it really does the girls’ talent justice. I would have preferred something more dramatic and with more of a climax than the skittering hi-hats and vaguely dancehall-inspired bass grooves, but alas, here we are with a pretty mediocre, uninteresting track, which wasn’t exactly unexpected.

#3 – “Really Love” – KSI featuring Craig David and Digital Farm Animals

Produced by Digital Farm Animals and Mojam

Ah, the trio we all didn’t know we wanted but definitely deserved(?): YouTuber KSI, legendary R&B singer Craig David and a couple virtual elephants. KSI is more than a YouTuber or prankster now to be fair to the guy, with songs like “Lighter” he has cemented himself as a genuine pop star and not in the way that songs used to get viral or even back in 2017 with Jake Paul. KSI is taking this stuff seriously and having fun with it, and, hey, he beat up Logan Paul once or twice so I guess I respect the man to some extent. I’m honestly surprised he got Craig David to be on the song with him. I mean KSI may be popular but I never put much thought into his music or even think it’s any good although the song has clearly debuted this high for a reason. Craig David has a janky hook that just plopped onto the track for a chorus and bridge, with pretty generic lyrics about love, which KSI develops on in some oddly specific ways. He’ll buy this woman Amazon Prime – I hope you enjoy the Borat sequel, guys – and she’ll “wreck his balls like Miley”. Classy. Honestly, the song is mostly fine – KSI’s flow is kind of awkward and stiff still but it’s a lot smoother than it usually is and he does deliver a pretty convincing performance here, as does Craig David, who sounds as great as he did 20 years ago over this groovy house instrumental, with a great bassline that really does fit Craig David more than it does KSI. The trap breakdown is pretty well done as well, which surprised me as I assumed the song would lose all momentum afterwards but, no, it keeps on chugging. This is listenable and far from bad but it’s mostly just a serviceable pop tune. I have no issue with this sticking around as it probably will. Now for the big one:

#1 – “positions” – Ariana Grande

Produced by TBHits, Mr. Frank and London on da Track

Man, I’ve just reviewed 12 songs, I do not feel like talking about the biggest and most important one now. Well, maybe it’s not that and instead the fact that I have this conflict with Grande’s music where someone so unbelievably and obviously talented sounds so incredibly disinterested in the songwriting and production, to the point where her performance is irrelevant. Sure, sweetener and thank u, next had their highs but the former is a complete mess and the latter feels so dull and oddly characterless. Again, these albums aren’t all bad but I feel like they’re still so rushed and infuriatingly so, with Grande having very little involvement, or at least it sounds like that in these albums. Regardless of how much she contributes to each record, it always comes out the other end sounding impersonal, so I’m actually glad she dropped the pretence and is now just doing purely sexy R&B stuff. I haven’t listened to the full album yet but with song titles like “34+35”, I can kind of expect what I’m going into here. That said, I’m not really a big fan of the title track and lead single here, although I can understand why it debuted at #1. Firstly, the video where she becomes the President of the United States for practically no reason is great. Secondly, the beat is pretty good and produced by London on da Track, who I’m kind of disappointed didn’t put his producer tag here. It would have at least been kind of funny hearing it transition into Grande’s sweet whispery vocal tone. I like the slick trap percussion, cricket sound effects and that chirpy guitar pluck, and especially those strings in the second pre-chorus which sound genuinely awesome. Ariana’s a great performer but the chorus is kind of weak, especially lyrically – I don’t mind the opening and main line about switching positions, hell, it’s kind of clever, but “I’m in the Olympics the way I’m jumping through hoops”? Really? The bridge is also pretty short and lazy; I feel like it could have actually been done away with or put as an intro and would have worked just as well replacing the second chorus with that final chorus, background whistle notes and all. That said, the song is a solid lead single and I am kind of excited to hear the rest of the album, even if this is at least somewhat of a retread.

Conclusion

What a mixed bag. I’m generally pleased with what we have here though and I am going to give Best of the Week to “Teadrops” by Bring Me the Horizon with an Honourable Mention to Polo G for “Martin & Gina”, although Clairo would have gotten close without Rostam on the boards. There’s nothing all that bad here except “Golden” by Harry Styles which does get an easy Worst of the Week, with a Dishonourable Mention to CJ’s “Whoopty” for just being lazy. Here’s this week’s “spooky” top 10 – it is Halloween after all:

You can follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank for political ramblings if you so wish but I wouldn’t recommend it, especially if you like Keir Starmer, but all politics aside, thank you for reading this far and I’ll see you next week.

[katedrakeohd]

#Wacky Drabbles No. 11

Happy Birthday Drake

Prompt: " Did you have fun? "

Rated: (M 18+)

Pairing: Damien Nazario × Drake Walker

Tagging wacky drabblers:

@emceesynonymroll @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @speedyoperarascalparty @bbrandy2002 @jessiembruno @brightpinkpeppercorn @mfackenthal @qween-corgis @gardeningourmet @pedudley

Word count: no idea, cuz I wrote it here.

____________

Drake woke up tangled in hotel sheets. Stretching out his limbs lazily with a sigh, the throbbing in his head reminded him of last night's drinking binge.

Rolling over toward his bed partner, he hugs the pillow against his stubbled cheek and gazes into a face with a pair of chocolatey brown eyes and a sleepy smile.

"Good morning Mr. Nazario." He drawls with a smirk.

Damien leans over placing his warm hand on Drake's rough cheek, bringing him in for a soft kiss. "Good morning to you too hot stuff."

Drake kicks off what's left of the sheet, sliding his foot over to nudge against Damien's shin. "Hot stuff huh?"

Tilting his head back to take in Drake's naked profile in the morning light, Damien swallows as his breath catches in his throat. Memories of the drunken night before come back to him in hot passionate flashes of skin on skin.

----

It had been Drake's Birthday, and they'd been at a bar. They were just two anonymous guys at first, nursing tumblers of whiskey and watching the room as they sat on barstools. As the evening wore on and sweaty drunken people wandered over from the dance floor to order mixed drinks full of more ice than alcohol, he and Drake had outlasted them all.

Drake was on his third double whiskey and feeling fairly buzzed and relaxed when he noticed the man at the other end of the bar watching him. Lifting his glass in greeting, he's met with a slight nod and a grin from the other guy.

Damien had been casually watching the tall handsome devil all evening. He'd seen busty drunk girls sidle up to him and flirt but get brushed off with a shake of his head or a sullen frown. He had found it odd that someone so desirable could be so unwilling to accept a date. When the younger man had finally lifted his glass and made eye contact, he'd felt a sizzle of attraction and couldn't help but smile back. It had been a while since Damien had shared the company of a man so attractive, and he decided to take the leap and introduce himself. After downing the rest of his whiskey he fished a handful of bills out of his wallet and placed them on the bar and set his glass on top.

Walking around the corner of the bar, he notices the other guy glance at him and then look away. When he nervously rubs the back of his neck and then shifts his gaze down to the floor, it makes Damien smile. He knows I'm coming over for him.

Damien stops a few feet away, putting a barstool between them and then catches the attention of the bartender. "Excuse me barkeep, what kind of payment does the pool table over there take?"

"It takes coins," Drake interrupts, tossing back the last of his whiskey.

"Wanna play?" Damien asks, with a grin.

Drake gives the man with the dark hair and soulful eyes a quick sweep with his gaze, trying to gauge if he was flirting or just bored. With the amount of alcohol thrumming through his veins at this point his inhibitions were pretty low and he didn't care either way.

"Okay, sure. It's my lucky day and I'm feeling generous so I'll buy the first game."

Damien nods, slapping down a few bills on the bar. "Ok, if you buy the game I'll buy the beers."

Pushing away from the bar, Drake smiles. "Works for me. I'm Drake by the way."

Damien picks up the bottles of beer and then jerks his head in the direction of the table. "Damien. Lead the way."

Taking a sip from the bottle, Damien followed Drake across the room, appreciating the way his straight leg jeans hugged his ass and thighs. That sizzle of attraction buzzed through his veins again, and he took another sip of beer to cool the heat crawling through his belly. Setting the bottles on a side table, Damien peels off his leather jacket and then unbuttons and rolls up his sleeves. He felt very warm and wished he'd opted to wear a tshirt like Drake had. Taking another swallow of beer, he opens the top button on his dress shirt.

Drake shoves his hand in the front pocket of his jeans searching for coins to pay for their game. Damien's eyes are drawn down to his groin and the way he adjusts himself slightly as he digs for coins. Sweet Jesus, the way he fills out his jeans. Or maybe it's just the layers of denim and zipper giving an illusion of more? Fuck, it's indecent the shape of what he's packing.

Drake catches him looking and clears his throat, sending Damien's gaze back up to focus on his face. "So I come to this place often but haven't seen you here before."

Damien leans against the table, crossing his arms across his chest. He hesitates a moment, wondering what to tell Drake about himself. "I'm not from here, just passing through between jobs."

Drake takes in the worn quality of Damien's clothing, the scuff on his boots, trying to decipher what he did for a living. There was a slight wrinkle to his cotton shirt as if it hadn't been folded up or seen a hanger for a while. Damien's style wasn't that much different than his own. Wash and wear, throw on the floor, then wear again.

Damien startles Drake out of his idle thoughts, the whiskey was evidently starting to make his mind fuzzy around the edges.

"So you said it was your lucky day. What's so special about today?"

Drake smiles as he puts coins in the pay slot of the pool table and releases the balls for play. "Oh yeah, I said that didn't I? It's my Birthday today."

After Drake straightens back up, Damien claps him hard on the shoulder, and smiles, "Really? Hey that's great man, Happy Birthday."

Drake nods, his shoulder tingling from the slap. He'd only been touched that way by his friends. And for some reason he felt excited about how Damien's slap made his skin tingle. Sucking in a deep breath, he grabs the ball frame and arranges the pool balls on the table for play. "Uh, Okay..Damien. Go grab a couple of cues and let's play."

What was it about this guy that made me want to do things I've never done before? Maybe it's the way he keeps looking at me like I'm a snack. He's so smooth and charming, and commanding but not in a rude or condescending sort of way like I'm used to hearing from the nobility. I kind of like it.

An hour, and three beers each later, Drake was up two games to one. Was Damien really that bad a player or was he just sloppy from the alcohol?

They'd joked about random stuff, talked about women and argued about whose favorite teams were better, ranging from football, baseball to basketball and beyond.

They hadn't realized how late it was until the bar was empty, and the lights went up. The bartender thumped his hand on the bar to get their attention, "Alright guys, it's closing time. You have a tab, now settle it. Call a taxi, stagger home, or whatever, I don't care. But you can't stay here."

Drake looked at Damien's grinning face, and the glassy luster of his eyes. He looked about as drunk as Drake felt. Shrugging into his leather jacket, Damien pulls his wallet out of his pocket and hands it to Drake. "Here, pay the man I gotta go take a piss."

Drake's mouth drops open, as he watches Damien shuffle his way to bathroom at the back of the bar. Glancing over at the collection of empty beer bottles on the table, he reluctantly opens the wallet and tries not to look at anything personal. Damien has an impressive wad of cash. There was a mixture of Euros, American and Canadian. Who was this guy?

Drake grabs a bunch of Euros and hands them to the bartender, stealing a glance at his ID before closing the wallet. Damien Nazario, New York City.

There was some other sort of identification card that Drake didn't get a good look at in time before he saw Damien returning from the bathroom.

"All paid up?" Damien asks as Drake nods and hands him back his wallet.

The bartender folds his arms across his chest, giving his head a jerk in the direction of the door. Time to get the fuck out.

Drake and Damien both wave goodbye to the bartender and follow eachother out into the cool evening air. Drake gasps involuntarily, the cool air sobering him up somewhat because he hadn't worn a jacket.

Damien glances up and down the deserted street, not seeing a taxi stand or bus stop in sight. Drake's shoulders are hunched and he has his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looked cold. Damien bites his lip, considering their options. He didn't feel like going back to his hotel alone, and he didn't want to see Drake wander off cold and alone on his Birthday either.

Pulling off his jacket he offers it to Drake. "Here you can borrow this. I dunno if we're the same size, but at least you won't be so cold."

Drake looks at Damien, feeling unsure. Offering a jacket to your companion is usually a date night sort of thing. Was Damien suddenly his date? They had just spent the evening drinking and playing pool together, but just by chance. It wasn't a date.

Damien raises his eyebrows in question, "Well? You want it or not? You can walk me back to my hotel and then hand it back."

Drake shrugs, "Yeah, what the Hell. We're just two guys walking up the street together. Nothing unusual about that right?"

"Right."

Drake slides his arms into Damien's leather jacket. It smelled of his cologne, sweat and coffee. Things that were uniquely Damien. Drake liked how it smelled. It was a little tight in the shoulders so Drake didn't zip it up. He appreciated the kind gesture, and it was full of Damien's body heat, which was oddly exciting.

"Thanks." He says, falling into step next to Damien as they head up the sidewalk.

As they walk, Damien did up the buttons of his shirt and unrolled his sleeves to keep himself from getting cold. Although they had spent the past hour together, Damien was only now realizing how much taller Drake was than him. A couple of inches for sure. And in his jacket he came off as broader and bigger as well. This only made Damien want him more. If only for one night, to make Drake's Birthday one to remember.

They don't talk as they walk together. Both entertaining their own thoughts over where this night may be heading. As they approach the front doors of the Hotel, Damien stops walking and grabs Drake by the forearm and pulls him into the dark alley. Drake is off balance as Damien pulls him close and whispers in his ear. "Happy Birthday Drake, did you have fun tonight?"

Struck speechless by the heat of his breath in his ear, all Drake can do is nod.

Damien's voice is a low rumble as he says, "The fun doesn't have to stop yet."

continued...here

[urbanguerilla]

I’m intensely disliking She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. Here’s why.

I really don’t like this show! Not because of the animation or the LGBTQ or any of that. I actually think the design is cute and I'm totally into the Moebius (Jean Giraud) homage. And I think it's great that LGBTQ stuff is being mainstreamed and normalized through various mediums. I also never watched the original, so I'm not in any way emotionally invested in the show. My childhood is not ruined. 

No, it's the writing! My God! The characters are one-dimensional. Their motivations are absurdly dumb, the heroes are incompetent and the villains are annoyingly smug.

First of all, take She-Ra. She's supposedly a super being, a First One, but gets her pathetic ass handed to her in just about every single episode. A multi-handicapped squirrel could beat her up with one paw tied behind its back. I've now watched her get kicked around and outwitted by Catra for 3 seasons straight, but she also gets herself pummeled by every other minor side character in the show. In the episode "Roll With It" (SE2:EP4) she gets completely walloped by Scorpia, who owned her butt in 10 seconds using just one claw. In "Huntara" (SE3:EP2) she's taken down by Huntara like it's nothing. I’ve lost count of how many times one of the villains (mostly Catra) effortlessly took The Sword of Protection away from her. Any episode now she'll get thrashed by Kyle. 

This is the heroine? Seriously? What the hell is the point of her magic sword and She-Ra transformation when she can't do shit? She's the absolute most incompetent and useless character on the show. And it's named after her!!! 🙄 

As for Catra, everyone, including the feeble-minded Adora/She-Ra, is constantly outsmarted by this smugly superior and insufferable cat chick, who somehow always knows everything and is always 10 steps ahead of everyone and never let's anything rattle her or surprise her or outfox her. Take one example (of which there are MANY) in SE3:EP3 "Once Upon a Time in the Waste"; In the previous episode we followed Adora, Glimmer and Bow in the Crimson Waste. Here they narrowly escape all the dangers of the environment. Sand snakes, lethal plants, quicksand and the natives. The Crimson Waste is a dangerous place and our heroes almost die there several times. In the next episode Catra waltzes into the Waste, arrogantly laughs at everything they throw at her, spends about 5 minutes there and then becomes queen of the whole place. This is just about the dumbest goddamn writing I have ever seen in my life. And of course, Adora is yet again again again again outwitted and defeated by this Mary Sue-ish antagonist for whom no opponent is too strong to defeat and/or trick in a matter of seconds. 

Or let's talk about Entrapta, who is converted from good to evil in a matter of seconds because she's a moron without any moral compass or critical thinking. Her story arc is pretty much the dumbest thing I have ever seen. It make's zero sense. She joins an evil army because she was "abandoned" during a raid in which she flails around like some ultra-ADHD basket case and then hides in a vent, waiting to be found? COME ON! And of course the all-knowing, all-powerful Catra figures out - in mere moments - exactly what buttons to push on this person who she has never met before, because… well because she's Catra and she can do anything the writers of this nonsense need her to do for the sake of plot convenience. 

Yeah. Plot convenience! There's a lot of internal rule breaking on this show. A lot of inconsistencies. Like that episode (I don't remember which one exactly) where Hordak threatens Shadow Weaver, telling her that he gave her her magical powers and that he can take them away anytime he likes. Then later in the same season, we get Shadow Weaver’s backstory in which she's a powerful sorceress who wants to fight the Horde. So no, Hordak did not give her her magical powers, but I guess the writers conveniently forgot that for the sake of the plot. Yes he gave her access to the Black Garnet, but long before that happened, she was one of the most powerful sorceresses in Etheria. She single-handedly defeated the Council in Mystacor without Hordak’s help. 

Or when Huntara says she knew Adora was a Horde soldier because of her training. Adora is WEARING A HORDE UNIFORM! She's been wearing a Horde uniform since the first episode!!! It's literally been used as a vehicle for conflict, like when she gets attacked and chased out by a mob in Bright Moon in the third episode of the show (on a side-note to that, isn't it odd she hasn't changed her outfit? Are there no tailors or clothing stores on Etheria?) 

Or how the Sword of Protection comes and goes. Like you see Adora walking around without the sword all the time and then suddenly she pulls it out of nowhere. That's a minor nuisance, but still it adds to the general sloppiness of the show. 

All that said, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power does have a few redeeming qualities when it pokes fun at its own characters (except Catra who, along with Hordak and Shadow Weaver, is rarely funny, if ever) and throws around various pop culture references (which sadly happens less and less as the show drags on). There's admittedly some genuinely funny moments and jokes and a lot could be redeemed if it focused more on the fun and less on everything that sucks. 

The show utterly fails whenever She-Ra faces off with Catra & Co. It makes zero sense that Catra can take out Adora in her She-Ra form, using just her goddamn claws! It wouldn't even make sense for her to be able to take out Adora in her Adora form, since Adora was the Horde Force Captain and superior in fighting skills to all the rest. But for dramatic purposes, all that is forgotten. She's weak as Adora and hella weak as She-Ra. And that's why this show fails in general, because the conflict between She-Ra and Catra is the nexus of the whole thing. If that doesn't work, the rest doesn't either. 

People will argue that IT'S A SHOW FOR 10 YEAR OLDS as if that's an excuse. There's a lot of good stuff made for 10 year olds that doesn't come with all the sloppy plot holes and lazy writing of this series.

[buzzdixonwriter]

Cowboys And Cavemen

This one’s gonna meander, but it’s about cavemen and cowboys and dinosaurs, so some of you may wanna stick around…

. . .

Recently watched the colorized version of One Million B.C. with Victor mature, Carole Landis, and Lon Chaney Jr.

I remember frequently watching the original black & white version of this as a kid; it popped up on local Early Shows a lot primarily because it could be chopped down to fit an hour’s running time without losing too much of the story (Early Shows were afternoon movies with a local host that typically ran only 90 minutes from 4:30-6pm; with commercials and host segments there wasn’t much room for uncut films and as a result they featured a lot of B-movies with 65 minute running times, or else cut out sequences from longer films not germane to the plot).

The colorized version surprised me in a couple of ways.  

First, I’d forgotten just how well done One Million B.C. is in basic film making terms:  Once past the opening scene, in which an archeologist explains some cave drawings to a group of mountaineers who then imagine themselves in prehistoric times, there’s no recognizable dialog; the film is told in purely visual terms.

Second, the colorization was incredibly sloppy:  There’s a lot of weird blue artifacting going on that lays a strange mist-like quality over several scenes, and in several places the colorists inexplicably either colored the actors’ bare legs blue or else overlooked the mistake in the final color correction.

Third, the sloppy colorization doesn’t matter:  If anything, it adds to the weird dream-like quality of the film.  As an attempt to realistically recreate the prehistoric past, it’s gawdawful; taken as the imaginings of an average contemporary 1940s person with no real knowledge of prehistoric times (viz the prolog), and it’s pretty entertaining.

Technically the movie is a mixed bag.  The special effects are pretty seamless (yeah, you can tell when something is a rear screen shot, but then again rear screen shots in every film of that era were obvious)).  A travelling matte shot of a hapless cavewoman buried under a flood of lava is particularly well done and as amazing today as it was then (though the colorists dropped the ball and didn’t tint it a vivid red or orange in the colorized version).

There’s a lot of monsters, but they range from well done to just plaine…well…

The best are a woolly mammoth (i.e., an elephant in shaggy fur costume) and a baby triceratops (a large pig in costume) that really seem to capture the essence pf those creatures.

The worst is a guy in an allosaurus suit who kinda just shuffles along like a grandparent going to the bathroom, and in the middle are various lizards dressed up with fins and horns.

The lizards bother me more and more over the years.  At first it was because they were disappointing -- they don’t look like dinosaurs, dammit, but like lizards with fins and horns glued on -- but now it’s because I realize they were goaded by their handlers into fights and reactions shots.

That’s plain ol’ animal cruelty, even if they are reptiles and not mammals.

There’s an armadillo and a koala-like animal that appear thousands of times their normal size.  The koala-like critter (sorry, but I don’t know what it actually is) is passable as a giant cave bear or sloth, but the armadillo is just an armadillo (there was something about armadillos that 1930s audience found creepy; they’re waddling all over the Count’s hiding place in the original Dracula).

One Million B.C. was produced by Hal Roach and Hal Roach Jr.  The senior Roach goes all the way back to the silent era, so this was not a huge stretch for him.  

Originally D.W. Griffith was to direct the film, but while he did a lot of pre-production work including screen and wardrobe tests, he either dropped out or was replaced on the eve of production.  (Reportedly he wanted the cave tribes to speak recognizable English and left when Roach refused.)

The special effects wound up in a ton of movies and TV shows over the ensuing decades; modern audiences are more familiar with the film through 1950s sci-fi than its original version.

All else aside, the picture is carried by stars Victor Mature and Carole Landis.  Ms Landis in particular is a spunky, charming cave gal with a blonde-fro and while Mature would never be an Oscar contender, he at least has the physicality and screen presence to get his character across.

The scene where he thinks Landis has died in a volcanic eruption may be corny, but you can feel his character’s grief.

. . .

A quarter of a century later it was remade as One Million Years B.C. with John Richardson in the Victor mature role and Raquel Welch in the Landis role.  

No disrespect to Welch, who by all accounts is a nice person, but she never showed one iota the acting chops of Carole Landis.  Welch is beautiful, and as a generic pin-up model cast as a film’s “sexy lamp” (look it up), she presented appealing eye-candy.  She appeared in one good sci-fi film (Fantastic Voyage), one campy monster movie (i.e., One Million Years B.C.), two incredibly campy WTF-were-they-thinking movies (The Magic Christian and Myra Breckenridge), and a host of instantly forgettable spy films and Westerns.  The best movies she appeared in were Fuzz, based on the 87th Precinct novels by Ed McBain (a.k.a. Evan Hunter nee Salvatore Lombino), where she did an acceptable supporting turn as a police detective, and Kansas City Bomber, a roller derby movie that many consider her best role.

Landis never enjoyed the same level of fame (or notoriety, depending on your POV) that Welch did, but holy cow, could the gal act.  It’s a pity Hollywood is crowded with talented, beautiful people because she certainly deserved a bigger career capstone than One Million B.C..

Welch’s personal life certainly proved less traumatic than Landis’, however.  When actor Rex Harrison broken off his affair with her rather than divorce his wife, Landis committed suicide.

The scandal exiled Harrison temporarily back to England.  A few years later One Million B.C. and Landis’ other films started playing on television.

Who knows what opportunities may have opened for her in that medium?

. . .

The original One Million B.C.  is vastly superior in all areas but one (well, two -- mustn’t leave out the catfight between Welch and Martine Beswick):  Ray Harryhausen’s stop motion dinosaurs

Mind you, most of the dino scenes in One Million Years B.C. are underwhelming.  To stretch the budget the producers used close ups of spiders and an iguana to simulate giant monsters, a brontosaurus does a walk through in one scene and never appears again, and the first big dino moment has cave gals poking sharp sticks at a big sea turtle.

On the other hand, the remaining trio of dino scenes are the aces and vastly superior to their corresponding scenes in One Million B.C..  The latter film’s allosaur attack is one of the best dino scenes ever animated, and the ceratosaurus vs triceratops battle followed by the pteranodon grabbing Welch are almost as good.

Both versions of the film had an interesting influence on films that followed.  One Million Years B.C. was followed by a host of prehistoric films, most of which existed only to cast voluptuous actresses in fur bikinis although When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth, a direct follow-up, offered more monsters and a better story.

While One Million B.C. wasn’t the first film to sub real life lizards for dinos, it certainly told budget conscious producers that such substitutions were okay.

The 1959 version of Journey To The Center Of The Earth cast iguanas with glued on fins as dimetrodons, and for once the impersonation proved successful as the two species do bear certain similarities.

Producer Irwin Allen (he of Lost In Space and Towering Inferno fame) hired Willis O;Brien (the animator behind the original King Kong) and his then assistant Ray Harryhausen to do accurate-for-the-era stop motion dinosaurs for The Animal World documentary but apparently frustrated by the time it took to get results opted for lizards in his version of The Lost World (which, ironically, O’Brien worked on in a non-animation capacity despite having done the original silent version of the film with stop motion dinosaurs).

I saw Allen’s Lost World as a little boy and felt grossly disappointed by the obvious lizards, especially since the script identified them as belong to specific dinosaur species when they quite clearly didn’t (had the script said they evolved from such creatures, the way the most recent version of King Kong did, it would have been less egregious).

Allen’s lizards popped up in several TV shows he did, most notably the TV version of Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea.  That show’s co-star David Hedison played a supporting role in The Lost World so once a season they found some excuse to get him out of his Navy uniform and into a safari jacket in order to match footage with stock shots from the movie.

The Animal World wasn’t the first time O’Brien and Harryhausen worked together, and Harryhausen followed up One Million Years B.C. with The Valley Of Gwangi, an O’Brien project that the older effects artist never got off the ground.

. . .

Let’s back up a bit to discuss “O’Bie” (as his fans refer to him).

O’Brien was a former cowboy-turned-cartoonist around the early 20th century who became interested in animation.

Movies were in their infancy then, and O’Bie shot a short test reel of two clay boxers duking it out.

This got him financing to do a series of short films ala The Flintstones with titles like Rural Delivery, One Million B.C. (the titles were often longer than the films).

These shorts featured cartoony puppets, no actual actors.  O’Bie followed it up with The Ghost Of Slumber Mountain which was the first time dinosaurs were animated in an attempt to make them look real, and that was followed by The Lost World in which O’Bie combined live action with special effects, climaxing the film with a brontosaurus running amok in London.

O’Bie wanted to follow it up with a film called Creation but that got deep sixed.  However, producer Merian C. Cooper saw O’Bie’s test footage for Creation and hired him to do the effects for the legendary King Kong.

While O’Bie followed that success with the quickie Son Of Kong he never got to work on a dinosaur film of such scope again.

War Eagles (a lost-civilization-with-dinos story) was supposed to have been a big follow up epic, but the Depression and the growing threat of WWII caused it to be cancelled in pre-production.

During the 1940s O’Bie pitched a number of stories to studios involving dinosaurs or other monsters encountering cowboys, one of which was Gwangi (he also pitched King Kong vs Frankenstein which eventually got made as King Kong vs Godzilla using two guys in rubber suits, not his beloved stop motion effects).

Gwangi had cowboys discovering a lost canyon inhabited by dinosaurs, chief of which being Gwangi, an allosaurus.  O’Bie never got Gwangi off the ground but decades later Harryhausen did with Valley Of Gwangi.

. . .

I never cared for Valley Of Gwangi and much preferred One Million Years B.C. over it (and, no, not because of Ms Welch).

Growing up in the 1950s and early 1960s, I enjoyed cowboys as much as dinosaurs.

I’ve posted elsewhere how my interest in dinosaurs led me to dinosaur movies which led to monster movies which led to science fiction movies which led to literary science fiction which led to science fiction fandom which led to my writing career, but my genre of choice before age 10 was Westerns.

As others point out, most Westerns are actually crime stories, what with bandits robbing stagecoaches and banks, rustlers making off with cattle, etc.  The climax usually involves a lawman (or a vigilante who carries the weight of the law) confronting the evil doers and bringing them to justice.

Sometimes these vigilantes wore masks (Zorro and the Lone Ranger).  Sometimes those they pursued wore masks, and sometimes those masked villains pretended to be ghosts or phantoms.

They weren’t, and were invariably exposed as frauds.

Westerns based themselves in a rational world.

Other times a criminal in a Western would be after some invention that could bring either a great boon (say an energy source) or great harm (a death ray) to the world, and wanted it for their own selfish ends.

The story would invariably use the invention as a mcguffin device, maybe letting it figure into the villain’s eventual comeuppance, but never really influencing the outcome of the plot.

Westerns and fantasy genres (including science fiction) don’t mix well, The Wild Wild West not withstanding (and The Wild Wild West was not a Western per se but rather what we would now call a steampunk commentary on James Bond filtered through the lens of traditional American Westerns).

(And don’t bring up Gene Autry And The Phantom Empire, just…don’t…)

Dinosaurs and cowboys don’t really go together.

That didn’t stop O’Bie from trying.

In addition to Gwangi, O’Bie had two other projects that he did get off the ground:  The Brave One and The Beast From Hollow Mountain.

The Beast From Hollow Mountain is a standard Western about mysterious cattle disappearances and quarrels over who might be responsible, only to discover in the end it’s really -- surprise!  surprise! -- a solitary tyrannosaurus that somehow survived since prehistoric times.

The movie is constructed in such a way that had the dinosaur element not panned out, they could have removed it and substituted a more conventional ending.

While O’Bie didn’t work directly on the film after he sold the story, it did feature a variant of stop motion animation known as replacement animation.  Instead of building a realistic looking puppet with rubber skin and posable limbs, the dino in Beast was more solid and featured interchangeable limbs that could stretch and squash in a more realistic manner (rather, the movement looked more realistic, the dino sculpture no so much…).

The Brave One started life as a story about a young Mexican boy who raises a prize bull for the ring, only to have the bull face an allosaurus in the ring instead of a matador.

The producers who bought that idea hired blacklisted screenwriter Dalton Trumbo to turn it into something filmable, and Trumbo sensibly jettisoned the dino to focus the story on the boy and his bull, much to the film’s advantage (it won an Oscar for best story when released, but Trumbo’s heirs had to wait decades before the award could be recognized as due their father).

The Valley Of Gwangi was yet another variant on the same basic idea, more expansive than the other two in terms of dinosaurs, and with at least a nod in the direction of trying to explain them (a “lost canyon” giving them shelter instead of a mountain plateau or remote island).

It never connected with me, despite having more extensive dino sequences than One Million Years B.C..

O’Bie animated stop motion cowboys fighting a giant ape in the original version of Mighty Joe Young but the context proved different.  The cowboys’ presence in Africa is acknowledge in the film itself as a publicity gimmick, and therefore not a true blend of the American West with a fantastic element.

Mr. Joseph Young of Africa himself, a 12-foot tall gorilla, was also presented as an exceptionally large but otherwise natural gorilla, not a throwback to a prehistoric era.

. . .

Before there were action figures, but long after there were tin soldiers, we had plastic play sets.

They came in all eras and varieties, but among the most popular were Wild West sets, Civil War, World War Two, and dinosaurs.

My father took a business trip to Chicago when I was four, and when he came back I remember eagerly crowding around the suitcase with my mother, grandmother, and aunt as he opened it and brought out souvenirs for us.

I forget what they got, but I remember feeling disappointed and forgotten since their stuff was on top.

But, underneath everything else, sat a large cardboard box, and in that box was a Marx Prehistoric Times playset.

It’s hard to adequately describe the joy that filled my heart when I opened it; it was one of the best presents I’ve ever received.

And while I later acquired a Civil War set and a World War Two set and a bag of what we then called cowboy and Indian figures, the dinosaurs remained my most favorite.

I bring this up because I think the Marx playsets explain the origins of two comics books, Turok, Son Of Stone (an on-again / off-again series from 1954 to 1982 from Dell / Gold Key) and The War That Time Forgot (1960-68 from DC).

In both cases, I’m sure somebody from each company saw some kid combing their Wild West or their World War Two playsets with their dinos and realized there was story gold to be found there.

The War That Time Forgot felt much more my speed, a lost island inhabited by dinosaurs and visited by American and Japanese forces during World War Two.

World War Two effectively ended any hope of their being a lost island with prehistoric monsters; pretty much the entire planet was scouted either on foot or by air.

Turok, Son Of Stone didn’t connect with me.  For one thing, it was too much like a Western in concept; for another, Turok and his brother Andar, being pre-Columbian Native Americans, were already from a neolithic culture, and the various cavemen and Neanderthals they encountered in their lost valley seemed more drab and colorless than their tribal background.

The dinosaurs they encountered always came across as large, dangerous, but wholly natural animals, different only from bears and wolves and bison by size and appearance.

Despite my indifference to Turok, I can absolutely understand why others love it and disdain The War That Time Forgot.

Different strokes for different folks.

. . .

We can’t close this without taking a look at The Flintstones, and we can’t consider The Flintstones without first examining Tex Avery’s The First Bad Man in order to bring this post full circle.

There’s a long history (har!) of contemporary satire using a prehistoric lens.  The Flintstones started life as a knockoff of Jackie Gleason’s The Honeymooners told in a prehistoric setting; the series made no attempt to present itself as realistic in any shape, fashion, or form.

Among the many cartoons and short subjects that preceded it (including Chuck Jones’ Daffy Duck And The Dinosaur) is The First Bad Man by Tex Avery, an MGM theatrical cartoon.

Tex told the story of Dinosaur Dan, the world’s first outlaw, using Western tropes told through a prehistoric lens.

It works, because it’s a parody of the Western form, not a sincere effort to blend it with the caveman genre.  It works because it’s a jarring clash of genres, not despite it.

The caveman genre itself has fallen on fallow times.  Despite films like The Quest For Fire and Clan Of The Cave Bear attempting to do realistic takes on the topic, most people seem to prefer more fanciful approaches, best exemplified by the movie Caveman which sent up the entire genre while not skimping on the stop motion dinos.

With sword & sorcery / Tolkienesque fantasies finally acceptable to mass audiences and thus providing a venue for humans to directly fight giant monsters, there doesn’t seem to be a huge demand for a return to the glories of One Million B.C.

  © Buzz Dixon

[vanimeldes]

(I'm writing you here because you said no more got content on your main) I think what saved tros and the sequel trilogy as a whole from being an utter disaster and what made it better than got was the acting. with few exceptions such as lena and emilia and alfie and liam and maybe carice, as much screentime as she had, the acting wasn't the best, but somehow got has always been regarded as a masterpiece and this is why people are still more rabid about its ending than about the sequels ending.

From what I saw, TROS is indeed almost universally disliked by many portions of the fandom (reylos, anti reylos, poefinns, OT and Anakin fans etc.). As I made clear several times, I don't like the sequels and I don't consider them canon, but I can't not agree with you. G0T was always given so much credit, despite the many points that it failed at, and yeah, some actors were one of them. From an acting standpoint, the Disney SW is far superior. There isn't a single actor who didn't convey a wide array of feelings and didn't put depth into their characters and, most importantly, they worked hard to understand their characters, despite writing's shortcomings and the contradictions.

Whereas in G0T....Lena, Peter and Nik have always nailed every line, IMO, despite the sloppy writing. Even in the last season, when things made so little sense, they always shone in every scene they were in. Emilia had her moments in the early seasons, but she improved a lot and the last season was her best, despite what happened to her character, this is out of question. I always liked Kit, but I think this season's writing hurt him the most, in regards to giving him the opportunity to show emotions (in contrast to Emilia, whom this season's writing hurt her in terms of character arc, but allowed her to show all those emotions). And I don't blame Kit at all, alas, but what strong emotions can one pull from lines such as "UR MAH KWEEN" and "AH DUN WUNT IT" repeated over and over again? Isaac.. stopped showing emotions the moment Bran stopped being a real character and became the 3-EYED R4V3N machine. Maisie's lack of understanding of her own characters SHOWS in the latest seasons, when she apparently agrees with the consensus that Arya is a sociopathic hitman (which book!Arya isn't) or S/ansa's bodyguard and/or butler (yikes). And S/ophie....sorry, but no. Not only that her lack of understanding of her character REALLY SHOWS (just read all her obnoxious interviews where not only she refers to S/ansa as "me" but introduces her as this mastermind politician who is also a SJW woke warrior kween who must wear armour — as if this is book!S/ansa's point — and deserves to rule because she suffered the most — as if someome's worth is measured by the amount of pain they suffered, not to mention that S/ansa definitely isn't the one who suffered the most — and she will rule over a [her actual words] "democratic sort of kingdom" — everytime I read this BS, I lose 100 neurones), but her facial expressions were reduced to the one that she had for 3 seasons already and was meant to represent the Ice Queen bitch™️ (as in what Sophie herself and D&D think a strong woman should be), but in truth was something utterly deadpan. And other good actors such as Liam, Carice, Conleth, Gemma or Tobias Menzes (hope I spelled correctly) weren't even given enough screentime to increase the quality of the show.

I wasn't so involved in the ST cast, but from their interviews that I read, none of them tried to excuse or justify their character's actions when it wasn't necessary, nor they tried to tell the fans why they should like their character, and definitely nor did they say dumb shit like "democratic sort of kingdom" in a context where the form of government definitely wasn't even remotely close to democracy (because last time I checked, the form of government in Westeros was a feudal monarchy with its king having absolute power, so...the total opposite of democracy).

See, I never shied myself away from calling Rey a Mary Sue because yes, she is, IMO, and some people should learn to understand that not every criticism against female characters makes a person sexist. But while S/ansa was D&D's special snowflake and Sophie only made her even more obnoxious, Daisy's acting really saved the character in many ways and I do understand why so many people empathise with her. Daisy showed enough emotions to captivate the fans and make the root for their character despite the direction the storyline took, whereas only S/ansa fanatics are able to still feel whatever empathy and love for (at least) her show version.

I also understand why more people feel empathy towards Kylo Ren than for Jon Snow, because really, especially in the last season, Jon really was just a tired sad boi™️ whith only two lines and who end up sheding one manpain tear after cowardly stabbing his lover while kissing her (because let's be honest, D&D didn't know what to do with him at that point), while Adam's ability to convey such a wide array of emotions with his eyes and expressions and in his lines cannot be denied, whether you like Kylo Ren or not, and Kylo Ren ended up giving his life for the girl he undeniably fell in love with.

So yes, from an acting standpoint (and I would add visuals, characters and yes, writing, because nothing can outdo the G0T level of shitty writing, sorry), TR0S and ST is way better. One thing I can't excuse in none of them, however, was the treatment of the PoC. We know what happened to Missandei and that Greyworm was sidelined and while none of the ST PoC characters weren't killed off, Finn was pretty much sidelined in TLJ, Rose was introduced in TLJ and had just one minute of screentime in TR0S, and Poe, played by the Guatemalan Oscar Isaac, was revealed to be a former space narcos in TR0S, whereas in TLJ, his purpose was mostly arguing with Holdo (I really didn't like that movie and I didn't understand much of it, so this is all I can remember about him).

It has gotten really long but I couldn't help it because I liked your question way too much, but I don't want to invite people to engage with me (or attack me) in the ST/Reylo vs anti Reylo rhetoric/S/ansa rhetoric because again, I don't really care about the ST and I am done with G0T and Sandra. Hope I answered your question!