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stone-man-warrior · 4 years ago

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January 9, 2021: 2:04 pm:

Local Update:

A walk out to the road was revealing today.

I took a short walk, it's a nice and sunny day out there, but is very cold despite the sunshine.

Conditions at Monroe's are strange in non-descript ways.

At Chartrand's, a large moving truck was parked at the roadside, not in the yard. The truck had graphics that say:

"Bekins Cross Town Movers

Eugene

Coos Bay

Medford"

with a phone number.

The driver and passenger both wore all black. The driver was about 350 pounds, dark hair and beard, passenger was 190 pounds, dark hair, goat beard, both in their late 30's and about 5' 11".

They parked there, made a lot noise, there was booms. and bangs, and thuds... then, some human body sized items were carried from the property and put into the Bekins Cross Town Moving truck.

Myers white Cross Over vehicle came down the road went to 560.

(airplane flying low and slow buzzed my house just now at 2:15pm)

The mail carrier for this route pulled into the Chartrand property at 376 parked and turned on his head lights.

I walked toward Chartrand's wondering why the mail carrier is at Chartrand’s when bodies are being moved around.

The mail carrier was at the Chartrand’s as the Sparacino's were approaching, the sound of a female voice like that of Deb Monroe was clearly heard, but there was no female anywhere around there. The mail carrier driving a red Ford Taurus Wagon, right hand drive, with a white paint stain on the right side front door pulled out of Chartrand's at the time he saw me approach and he drove past me towards the mailboxes, and that is when Sparacino's came down the road to chase me away, I did not go away. The Sparacino's have yet another brand new stolen Cross Over style vehicle, a black one, I was not able to see what kind because that is when Wesely Crowel came down the road and swerved to run me over as I was walking home, he was driving a black Mustang Convertible, tried to run me over, so I took cover near some railing where the creek culvert is at in front of Monroe's.

I walked to the mailbox, the mail carrier was there putting mail into the boxes. He spoke to me, said he was going to back up just at the time I was going to reach for my mail. Then he took a selfie photo of himself, and put the red Ford into reverse to place something into Clyde Baum's 333 mail box.

I thanked the mail carrier for warning me about backing up, and asked if he saw Wesely Crowel try to run me over. He replied "no, I'm a mailman, I don't see anything." He then asked if it was a mail carrier that tried to run me over, I said “no, it was Wesely Crowel in that black Mustang that just drove past you".

Meanwhile, the Sparacino's moved innocently and timidly on their way up to where they live at 545. I was the only one of the group on Jackpine who checked mail, that is unusual, they always try to block me from getting my mail. Today, it was the mailcarrier playing the turn-a-round who blocked me momentarily.

The theme was "Black"

The mail carrier was not participating in the theme part, unless the theme was "Red & Black", which I suspect is the case. Air Support Terror Air Force Colors are Red & Black, and the Air Support Terror Air Force is the US Postal Service, aerial division of "The Stork" terror cell that is USPS in Grants Pass, and nation wide.

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2:54 pm:

On second consideration, the theme was:

“Black Label Society w/Red Cross-Over”, by Zack Wylde’s roadies.

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2:39 pm:

I was able to see that Wesley Crowel appears to be alive, is not a taxidermy as he seems to have been the last few times I have seen him on the road, he clearly moved his head and hands this time as he drove by about one foot away from where I took cover at the creek guard rail, and was also wearing black, as was Nicole Sparacino who was driving that new stolen cross over style car, black. There was a passenger in the Sparacino car, I was not able to see who, because that was when Wesley Crowel was coming down the road to run me over.

All of that stuff happened within about ten minutes, from the time I heard loud booming and thud noises while I was on my driveway, to the time I walked out to the road to see the Bekins Cross Town Moving, to the time I saw the mail carrier take a selfie photo of himself and then I got my mail to return to my house, and began to write this immediately.

There was nothing in the mailbox, just air.

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5:43 pm:

The mail carrier today is not the regular usual Asian lady who drives the black Nissan Quest van with Rocker Panel Graphics that say: “Black Jelly Bean“ on it. Today’s mail carrier did not even look like the substitute mail carrier, but was driving the same Ford Taurus Wagon, or one that looks the same as the one the substitute mail carrier drives. The substitute mail carrier looks exactly like the YouTube personality who goes by the name “PewdyPie”. Knowing what I know about the presence of Google operative terror soldiers around here, I am convinced the usual substitute mail carrier actually is the YouTube personality who goes by the name “PewdiePie”, but, that was not him today. Todays mail carrier looked similar, but was not the usual substitute mail carrier. Best description I can give is that of PewdiePie with darker colored hair and shorter beard. Otherwise the fake substitute mail carrier was similar looking to the real one, PewdiePie, who is only the substitute mail carrier for when the Asian lady who drives the “Black Jelly Bean Nissan Quest, is not on the route that day.

The USPS facility on Washington ave in Grants Pass is occupied and is run by Canadian terror soldiers and has a large presence of Famous Rock Star Music Groups who frequent that facility, where they are provided with young girls and boys for whatever they use them for... kidnapped children are collected by the mail carrier terror cell, taken to that facility, some of them are snatched up by actors, musicians, clowns, and magicians, as disposable sex slaves, and are used as target practice at the shooting range that’s across the freeway from the north Valley High School, not far from Flemming Middle School, and Manzanita Elementary School, where many of the victim children used to be kidnapped from, at a time when there were still some US Citizen Children left alive to kidnap from the schools, a long time ago. The US Children are all gone now, all were killed, taken as slaves, and many were trained as terror soldiers. The ones that were taken as soldiers and slaves would be in their 30′s now, or older, since the terror take over happened in around 1998 - 2004 or so,

The baby is on fire, there is no one watching the baby. The baby has been smouldering there, just slowly roasting away, is about done now, all cooked and ready to serve like those rotisserie chickens at the supermarket... except these ones are human, have names, like Sarah, Billy, Jason, Emily, Maria, and Jesus (Hey Zeus) are US Citizen babies that no one will save from the Actors, musicians, clowns, and magicians... the same ones we all love to watch on TV, and listen to on the radio. Those are the people who are cooking the babies.

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Here is the link to the command orders to do whatever that activity was. I suspect that the person who was wearing the KKK robe last night was killed, could have ignited and launched away due to nitrous ignition, and that all of the Christian terror soldiers have bombs up their asses, that turns them into rocket ships when the gas ignites by the small flame of my Bic Lighter.

http://view.email.americanmusical.com/?qs=fbf219ca30ae02b782312bdbcbb2568285052f4da39c2e27b469927d68ddecee0dfa66e7f805f67b3752e0a106ccbac3c88142bcd7a921f3a345cab8c0d6dab9646bfbd2328e7f86e55e4e1e33445b7e

Also. I did not explain all of what happened at the Fred Meyer gas station the other day, or at the Walgreen’s afterwords.

It’s important that I go ahead and say some of what I left out from the Fred Meyer and Walgreen’s errand run in Dystopia on the 6th of January.

At the Fred Myer gas station, there were a lot of Buses of differing variety. One of them was the Salem Oregon Government style that I included an example photo of on that days Tumblr Post Entry.

When I pulled in for getting some fuel, that white Salem style bus was there at the gas pump next to the pump I usually use. The attendant there was Mark Kiesel of Kiesel Guitars disguised as Fred Meyer gas station attendant. He was doing a “Plug In“ service, where special assassins assume the role of others on the fly to make the hit, a “plug-in”, such as Mark Kiesel playing role of gas station attendant.

They knew I needed fuel before I knew I needed fuel, and were waiting there in the Salem Gov Bus when I arrived there.

So, as I pulled in, I recognized Mark Kiesel, I know who he is, he has been trying to kill me since 1993. Kiesel likes to use explosive guitars for his brand of murder and I have been given more than one Kiesel Guitar in my lifetime, all of them have exploded and killed other people. So, I recognized him, and said so, even with the Corona Mask on. He had some thugs in the Bus with him. One of the thugs had ignited, and burst into bits at the gas station on Wednesday, he ran to the bus and got inside before disintegrating. Then, one of the other thugs got out of the bus, came to where I was standing, to tell me that I had lit his friend’s nitrous tank, and was upset about that. So, I did not want to fuck around, I just ended the argument with my trusty fingernail clipper, and gave the young thug a manicure at neck level, stuck in the throat like a dry graham cracker. That one ran into the Bus with the others, someone mentioned that there was a lot of guitars inside the Bus, and then someone else shouted: “no! don’t open that!”. By that time, all of the occupants of the Salem Bus at the Fred Meyer had been ignited when the first one went in there with a lit tank... the Salem bus drove away quickly. everyone inside was screaming and choking either having been ignited, or stuck in the throat.

(5:24 pm: I think some federal fool may have been there, did not read this account about the dangers that exist here in Grants Pass, and was going to open a guitar bomb, thinking they were stolen guitars in the Salem Bus, when the guy that had the guitar bombs in the Bus is the owner of the company that makes them in CA. Federal fools are still thinking in terms of small potatoes, like petty theft or a single murder or rape, when the theft is that of the whole nation, and the murders are counted by the ten’s of millions with rough estimation, and that rape is the sons and daughters, wives and sisters of the federal fools as they are fucking off looking at petty theft. It seems as though the statement “no! Don’t open that! was the terror bastards from Hollywood terror hit command HQ telling the federal fool not to open the Kiesel Brand Guitar Bomb)

The Salem Bus exploded somewhere out of view, the explosion was the same quality of sound characteristics as the explosions that were happening around my house on new years eve and on new years day. Very tight, dense, compact sound intense explosion noise, not a “boom”, more of a “Pow” w/snap characteristic. Short, loud, intense explosion.

So, I defended at the Fred Meyer, then went to Walgreen‘s with my car all behaving the way i enplaned, all of the electronics were going hey wire, and the fuel injection was not working as it should, then it all started to work normally after a couple of miles towards the Walgreen’s.

There, I am pretty sure it was Paul Reed Smith who I saw there, he was looking quite old though, and not in the best physical shape I have seen Mr. Smith in before. I thought he was dead from a fight at the Josephine County Jail when he and Zakk Wylde, Lars Ulrich, John Mayer, and Berus Sparacino attacked me inside the jail on June 16, 2020. I also saw my former spouse inside of the jail, but she was on the Sheriff Jailer side of the jail, while I was actually inside of the jail containment area when those people all attacked me there. So, I thought Paul Reed Smith had been killed, but, I saw him at the Walgreen‘s after the Kiesel Salem Bus exploded, so he must have been treated for his injuries, and healed since that time back in June.

The others that attacked at the jail, I still say are dead.

There was talk of “The Bus exploded!” while I was at the Walgreen‘s, and I had to fight one female terror soldier and one male terror soldier, who had a sword at the front checkout that day.

More stuff happened. After today’s Black Label Society Event on Jackpine, I am concerned about one other fellow I will be needing to face here pretty soon, about 5′10″, 40 y/o, blonde hair, long blonde goat beard, w/attractive curvy female mating pair accompaniment person spouse, well built, brick shithouse variety. Those two were at the Walgreen’s and were all upset about the events that took place at the Fred Meyer.

So, that Jackpine Black Parade was about the Salem Bus, and Kiesel of Keisel Guitars in Southern California.

Be advised that these particular terror cell members have access to C-4 explosives, so, that means Micheal Moore of Super Size Me fame, is where the C-4 comes from.

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6:27 pm:

After consideration of the events on Jackpine, I have come to conclusion that the fake mail carrier was trained as part of the Myers terror cell of 560 Jackpine. When he said “I don‘t see anything” I recognize the significance, Is the same as “I don‘t cross anything” and is a Mters specific use of a way to frame someone is not religious, is not Christian. They used to do the statement but with “I don‘t cross anything”, today he said “I don‘t see anything”, where “See” is the Vatican reference. The idea is to make the victim who is not religious appear as someone who is hateful towards the religious people to the extent that they portray the intended victim as someone who refuses to cross their letter “T” or cross their legs when sitting down, because some how that is supposed to help with the frame for a crime if Myers can convince federal officers that the person in question is so hateful that they won’t even cross a T, their arms when standing, or legs when sitting.

Myers, 560 Jackpine is where that fake mail carrier was trained, so, that means Grants Pass Community Church is where the fake mail carrier is a member of the terror cell there, as are many of the hard core “Ye Old English 800″, larger terror cell are also trained. They are the ones who build and operate the killing contraptions I explain here. The Myers and all of the other people around here have access to the people who could send some help, but I am not able to because the bastards control the phones and internet and USPS too. All of the communication is hijacked exactly for when someone tries to contact helpful people.

They used to say: “I don‘t cross anything”. Today it was: “I don‘t See anything”.

======================

The command order came in early today, they had some time to prepare for a chance to have Wesley Crowel run me over, and all of that other bullshit that also happened. I suspect the crew on the road was thinking that I had been injured last night by the one wearing the KKK robe, it’s actually supposed to be a Grim Reaper terror attack disguise, comes w/sickle, and is usually worn by the terror Air Force General, Janice “Jay-Bob” Freeberg, as “The Grimm Freeberg”.

Don‘t ask...

It used to be a Ted Nugent song. I like that “Box Canyon Spaghetti Western“ bass sound they have going on here:

youtube

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4:07 pm:

There is a very high likelihood that those “Boomm, bang... thud, thud...” sounds I heard coming from Monroe’s front driveway was the sound of not one, but two African Lions inside of another truck or van at the Monroe terror cell while the “Bekins Cross Town Movers” was a distraction service done by Safari terror cell. There is likely to have been Federal Fools there on steak out, who insist on being fooled all of the time by the local authorities.

“Bekins Cross Town Movers” = “Beacon Ave Department of Motor Vehicles”

Trust me, that’s what it means. They are the Safari terror cell along with the courts, sheriff, state police, all of the top level government in Oregon is the Safari terror cell... think of it as “One Hour Martinizing”.... delivered with Kings.

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4:21 pm:

Other sounds, noise, ground shaking that happened today is worth a mention:

At about 11:00 am -12:01 pm or so... a loud boooom was heard coming from the direction of Strong’s and Chapman terror cells on Russell Road. The sound was accompanied by the ground, or house shaking, My interpretation was that of either a small airplane crashed nearby, maybe near the train tracks to the west, or, a car hit a tree. It was not an explosive sound, it was more of the sound of impact, and was substantial, shook the house.

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4:31 pm:

A Butterfly flaps it’s wings in China, makes a hurricane in Texas.

I have a memory of something about the symbolism of Toyota Prius’ for terror considerations:

A place called Sun Valley Studios is somehow associated with Power, and the Prius.

Twenty years ago or more my family went rafting on the Rogue River as we did daily sometimes in the summertime, back when there still was some remnants of freedom in Oregon. On this one particular river raft trip, there was a man on a catamaran style raft, had been doing some drinking while boating, was alone, and talkative and friendly as we passed by rafting on the Rogue. The man explained that he was the San Bernardino County Sheriff, and was excited about new acquisitions at the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Office, where he said the county supplied the Sheriff with 500 Toyota Prius’ to use as patrol squad cars.

San Bernardino is the biggest county in USA, covers a lot of ground, is mostly harsh desert. I am anticipating some challenges associated with Toyota Prius squad cars in that kind of environment.

Although I don‘t have a conclusion for why that is important, I do know it is important, and I believe that man was indeed the county sheriff of San Bernardino. I don‘t know why he was so excited about it, or, why he felt he needed to explain any of that on rafting trip on the Rogue River more than a thousand miles from where he came from.

Somehow, today’s events on Jackpine remind me about that conversation so long ago, but I don‘t know why. So I wrote it down.

Also, I am reminded of the very best guitar player I ever knew, he was not famous, but was forced to be non-famous, as a slave who does backstage guitar playing while the famous guitar players fake it onstage. If I say who he is, they will kill him, and get another slave guitar player to do the live show from backstage.

youtube

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7:09 pm:

Here is example of that Norton pop-up window that shows up as I come back into my house after I take a walk. I just now went outside, walked around, the Monroe’s heard that I had gone out there with the listening devices, then turned on the whining noisy sound they play at their fresh water well, it’s speaker connected to an amplifier, is operated with Blue-tooth, to make an unpleasant noise that whines a high pitch frequency, is only done to aggravate me and spoil any existence of a peaceful moment outdoors.

Then I go back into the house and there is this pop-up, it only happens when I come back from a short walk outside.

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7:16 pm:

(Centurylink ISP is still turning off my number pad on my keyboard, when I want to use a numeral, I have to push the “Num Lk” button each time I want to use a numeral, if I don’t and use the number pad while it’s turned off, the cursor goes flying somewhere up the page, I loose my place, and all of this kind of fuckery makes it difficult to remember what the heck I wanted to say about all of this complicated kinds of terror so that I can get free of it with some help from the people who I am writing this for.)

I wanted to say about that San Bernardino Sheriff with the 500 Prius’:

My read about that includes but is not limited to the 500 Series of recording and studio effects used at professional sound studios. He was making a statement about 500 Series effects, and doing so by substitution of a electric car fleet. Maybe he was saying that he is getting an enema from the professional recording studios, so to speak, about some kind of distress he may have been in at the time.

When I lived in Riverside, I had some friends who were police. They may have come to find me, sent that guy, to say something, because I used to have some connections to music and recording studios... maybe he thought I could help him somehow, even if that help was just some sharing of terminology or standards in the recording industry. I don‘t know. It was something that I am remembering for a reason, was just a rafting trip where someone had a conversation with me as we floated by one another, of thousands of those, I remember that guy on the catamaran raft.

Go learn about 500 Series Effects, they are readily available in all configurations at Vintage King Audio in Hollywood, and in Nashville Tennessee, if you want to help figure out why 500 Toyota Prius’ are important to talk about on a river float.

The 500 Series are Rack Mount Effect Modular Components. The significance is the “Rack”. Medieval style torture rack.

There is one at 520 Jackpine at least some of the time.

It stretches people to 9 feet in length, not counting arm length, is very unpleasant, that is what it’s for, to get people to say personal and sensitive security information.

The ones who are on the Rack, are presented as they are tortured, to others among the group the victim belongs to, so, those other people are given the Spanish Inquisition, to say important information, if it’s not satisfactory to Myers of 560, then they crank the handle where the loved one is being stretched out. All of the people who are captured are injected with heroin, and exposed to nitrous gas. The captors don‘t like it when the victims make noise or scream, so that is what the heroin is for, to keep all involved as comfortable as possible during the ordeal. The victim on the Rack is given a view from a mirror, so they can see what shape they are in. It’s horrible. Happens next door for the past 24 years or so.

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8:02 pm:

The American Music Supply Command Orders:

There is much to look at, some is obvious with some pre-requisite understanding, some is not so obvious. One thing I saw in there that may be easily overlooked is that the featured guitars run the spectrum of available string elevation above the guitar body. Have a look at how high the strings are elevated above the guitar bodies of the featured selections. The names are also revealing. That Zakk Wylde crimson model is the lowest string elevation I have ever seen, in comparison to that other big hollow-body, there is a lot of difference going on with string elevation and at least one of those guitars has EMG style Active Pick-Ups, are powered, so, that is the comm, that Power Lines are of importance, and that is the elevated strings, the power lines, to say “Rocky Mountain Power” terror cell. You may be able to take more from the product specifications to arrive at Safari Terror Cell, if you want to do your own research to find truth.

The “Black Label Society” is in the comm too, to me, that seems to say something along the lines (lions) of:

“Signs Hanging all over the Dark Knowledge of Social Orders” or, simply put, the terror bastards are not happy about being exposed in their ways in such great detail so often, and want remedy to return the Darkness back over those dark secrets that have so much light on them.

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8:17 pm:

Dean Zelinsky

Gibson

Eastwood

Zakk Wylde

Breedlove

All of those and more, are guitar makers who have sent people to kill me. I am beginning to see a pattern, over the past 20 years and more.

So, there is also going to be Chapman Guitars in Britain.

Most unusual, could be bait, is Crimson Guitars, look on YouTube, looks like bait Guitar maker, however, the man who owns Crimson Guitars also has his own line of stains and finishes, so, maybe not bait, maybe a hit Luthier like the others.

If it says “Crimson“ on it, on any product, it’s likely to be a Vatican terror product.

Also, consideration of Keisel Guitars business model (after Mark killed the real owner and took over Carvin Guitars in Escondido, is that the guitars are only sold direct, not available in stores. The significance is in association to UPS, USPS, and Fed Ex all having been hijacked, controlled by the Christian terror army. The ��Direct Sale” business model of any and all such direct sale products opens doors to unique ways of doing Murder & Replace terror tactics. Kiesel ships an order from a customer who was shown the product line by the Guru at Guitar Center. The customer see’s that the guitars are top notch, Vatican Choir Grade instruments, for a reasonable price for what you get, and Kiesel ships out the order, which is followed to the address by Keisel terror cell murder thugs. The customer is killed. Someone else moves in to the customers home. So, find the available used Keisel Guitars that may exist on Ebay, Craigs List, or Reverb and there may be ways of tracking who bought those new, why they are for sale used, and where the shipping went to when sold as new. Other important information can be gained by finding a few used Kiesel guitars to study how it was delivered, and it’s life story. That will also work for other “Direct Sale” products, any product, not just music equipment. I think Robert Keeley is also a “Direct Sale” business model. “Direct Sale” = “Straight to Jesus” and fits the Ann Wilson style associated to “Straight on for You”.

The guy who builds Crimson Guitars does seem like bait to me... very special terror operative network there is possible, maybe all the way to the Vatican Choir Central HQ because they have fail safe systems in place, bait, in case public safety persons catch on to the guitar and it’s position at the very top of the global terror pyramid. The idea is to put out there a sacrificial lamb, such as Crimson Guitars, so that no one will notice the monsters, Gibson. Epiphone, Gretch to name three monsters. Fender is a little different somehow... not sure how, but the “Made in Mexico” is what is called a “Golden no-no” as a blanket statement about “Made in Mexico” and that is complicated beyond what I have studied, except that Eric Clapton used a Fender for the purpose that Fender would be hijacked, he gave the “Foot in the Door” when he chose a Fender back in the days of Cream. So, Crimson Guitars could very well be backed with safety measures to lure police there, so that they will no longer look for Guitar terror connections to the Amp Guru, at the top of the Pink Floyd Pyramid, where David Gilmour and Roger Waters, sit, as Amp Guru.

I used to really enjoy playing my guitars. It was not long ago really, but, five years is too long to not be allowed to play my guitar. I am upset about that. I want to play my guitars, and, I want my cookies and milk too. So, the terror bastards arranged that I cannot play my guitars, and, they poisoned the cookies and milk.

I am upset about that.

So, I say fuck ‘em. Take all of the terror musicians out, let God sort them out later on.

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9:24 pm:

They won‘t let me play my drums either, so fuck those guys too. Go to Drum Workshop in Ontario Ca, they do international terror through the Ontario International Airport, but be advised that the Ontario Airport is controlled by SAG, with protection from Gavin Newsom and the Canadian/Christian terror army, is a danger zone, code yellow, for caution is advised there. Newsom is dead now though, so no more help from there, he came to kill me, with Adam Sandler, neither of them have been seen since, except with old reruns of news real provided by the terror pansies of the news media. Sandler cried like a third grade girl when he did not get his way. They only act tough, in real life, they cannot survive.

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New Jersey.

It’s known as Oregon’s sister state. Both are the only states where self service at a gasoline pump is prohibited by law. They have it worked where the gas stations have a lot of unnoticed control over the inhabitants of the states. You are expected to remain in your car, not supposed to get out to stretch your legs. It’s not required that you stay in the car, but the inhabitants of the state all know about the medieval torture racks, so, getting out for a stretch, could lead to an extended time of it, so to speak.

There is more control associated with mandate of prohibition of self service than is apparent, it seems like a luxury, is a ball and chain. You are tethered to the inside of the car, if you get out, the gas station attendants double team you, triple team you, toss you into a waiting bus, for breaking the rules. To step out of the car is not a government mandate as is the pumping of the fuel, getting out of the car is “Forbidden“, and that is far worse a crime than just pumping your own fuel.

AMS says there is to be a “50% Off Sale” at my house tonight... God will be busy sorting out the AMS assassins by the morning.

Arrived at 3:02 pm this afternoon.

This one is a Ford Ranchero, 302 V-8. AMS is specific, there will be a cross-bow on the ranch, with some arrows, makes me a Jolly Rancher then.

Time to head ‘em up, and move ‘em out, pilgrim... we are going to Santa Monica, to see the Fuller Brush Man, Robert Fuller of Fulltone. The stuff he makes is built like a brick shit house, indestructible. Looks like I have been made.

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Vintage King Audio says they are bringing a Torture Rack, and are upset about having been burned.

Arrived at 2:54 pm this afternoon:

(you have to read the fine print to appreciate it)

Some highlights of the weeks terror titles in the email commands from On-High:

Other email account is all junk. I am seeing a pattern though, Ally Invest of Bocca Rattan only sends a statement notification when the rock stars and Luthiers come to try to kill me.

I am still trying to reach Pittsburgh... it’s 10:27 pm, still there is no response from Pittsburgh. It’s been weeks since I first tried, this go ‘round.

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10:31 pm:

If anyone happened to have been outside about a half hour ago and heard all of that horible screaming, that was Myers of 560 torturing a house cat, to punish me for writing these cries for help. They collect the house cats of the victims they kill, and when I go take a walk, the torture one or more of the house cats, some times the cats are electrocuted, sometimes they are put into a microwave oven, sometimes it’s more gruesome. They also put infant babies into the microwave to get the parents to take the child to the hospital when the child won‘t stop screaming and seems to have a high fever. The Myers are able to use the nitrous gas, and keys to any home, because the sheriff has ways of getting the keys. all they need to do is arrest someone, make it all look legit, and then they have the keys so that Myers can do the murder, or torture, or plant a listening devise later on... they don‘t want to kill you right away, they need to torture you, your baby, and your house cat first, to make you talk, to say what they need to know before they kill you. With me, they make sure I can see or hear the result of torturing animals that they catch by using the nitrous gas to catch the animals so that the can torture them, to terrify me, while I get blamed for the dead cat tomorrow.

Myers looks like an innocent old church lady. I don‘t have a chance against that kind of defense.

When the Myers used to be more in my face about the things they do, they would begin to torture the animals, while saying that the animals are different than people are, “the animals don‘t feel pain” they say, then begin to really hurt the animals real bad, and then say: “See, if the animal could feel the pain, then they would tell me, and ask me to stop doing this, so, it must be God’s will, otherwise this would not be happening right now.”

Juseph Myers has brought very small children to my front door, knocked, then when I open the door, he cuts the child’s head off. Right there on the front porch. I call the police, and they say to stop calling the police to make that stop happening.

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10:53 pm: There are no signs of helpful people anywhere to be found.

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1-10-2021: 2:59 pm:

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hecohansen31 · 5 years ago

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The Tomboy & The Model:

Model! Michael Langdon+Tomboyish! Reader

(A/N): Hello lovelies!

I am back with a new Michael’s idea I hope you’ll like!

I honestly firstly discussed this idea with @sojournmichael so big shoutout to her, and to my group of friends her for making me actually publish and write this fic, since I ended up having a bit or... PROBLEMS with it...

I am actually very out of the fashion industry so, exactly as with the cam-world, if you see some things which aren’t quite right, please let me know and I’ll do my best to actually correct them.

Also I tried to keep the reader being a tomboy a bit behind, so that anybody can try to see themselves in her, without having to stop anybody from feeling a bit like the Reader, so I hope you won’t hate me too much for that-

With this being said... I really hope you’ll like it, and please if you do end up enjoying, leave an heart, reblog he fic (if possible writing something... I am always the most anxious about hearing what you thought of my writing) or shot me an ask or a DM.

If you didn’t like it, please let me know, kindly, what didn’t work so that I could make it work better in the future!

Much love!

Hope you’ll enjoy this!

SUMMARY: You and shy model Michael could be the most different people in the world, but somehow you end up working quite well together.

WORDS: 9 K

WARNINGS: Sub! Michael, Dom! Reader (also brief mention of Dom! Michael and Sub! Reader), Spanking, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving), Orgasm Denial, A Bit Of Dirty Talk, Use of the F-word, and Drunken Assault.

She had been always the type to prefer more masculine things: it wasn’t anything strange for her to run with the boys and play with them and slowly she had started taking over some of their mannerism.

It had been always her true nature to be much more masculine “than women were supposed to be”, according to her mother.

Her mother had been extremely disappointed by the fact that she hadn’t wanted to own a more feminine body and although she had made some concessions towards her style, she mostly went by her own way, which meant jeans, mostly large and graphic shirts for the summer and sweaters for the winter.

She enjoyed the gym and wasn’t afraid to assume a more manly role, such as paying for the bill or being the one who did the first move, which got her in so much trouble and rejections that she sometimes thought about giving up that nature just to get a bit of affection.

It hurt her to think about a future alone, although she had friends who loved and a family who supported her, but when everybody was so crazy about love, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed by her lack of.

She was a big romantic, underneath the harsh armor she wore.

And she was also a complainer, according to her roommate Mallory, who had set her up with a boy that Wednesday, insisting it would have been a fun idea.

“You basically set me up with a stranger” she had mumbled, meanwhile her roommate, a professional make-up artist, put eyeshadow on her lids after she had squeezed her in a nice outfit, still jeans but it was paired with a silky black blouse, giving her a vampire aesthetic she dug, enhanced by Mallory expert work with brushes and beauty blenders “I have watched too many “Law and Order SVU” episodes to believe that this will end well”.

“Shut up, and pucker up your lips” had replied Mallory, pushing out a shiny lip-gloss, getting an eyes roll from her, a clear way of asking her if it was truly necessary “… Michael is a nice guy, I wouldn’t set you up with psycho”.

She only had one clue, since according to Mallory “spoiling the identity of his date would ruin the magic of it”, alongside mumbling something about her being a bit too much of a cyber-stalker…

And that clue was that her date’s name was Michael, biblical and decidedly normal, too little for her to check him out on Instagram (although she had tried).

Mallory had gently rolled the lipstick onto her lips, till she was satisfied.

She already had felt uncomfortable due to the sticky sensation between her lips, deciding to clean it as soon as she was alone in the little diner they were supposed to meet for an appetizer.

Mallory had then pushed a mirror in her face, revealing a flushed face, and although the entire ensemble hadn’t made her feel like a clown, it was a bit too much for her.

Still it had looked definitely badass, enough that she knew why her roommate was so requested: she was lovely, without losing anything of herself.

“… also you look amazing” had mumbled shyly Mal, meanwhile she adjusted her hair, gently pushing out of her face “… he will have a dumbstruck expression when he’ll see you”.

She had doubted it, but she had felt confident and definitely not in need of the validation of a man.

And she definitely hadn’t needed her date being late, already annoyed by the entire ordeal, with a perfect plan to occupy better that night: “B99”, the last piece of cheesecake in the fridge and best of all… her bed, warm and comfortable.

She had been thinking this when suddenly she had felt a deep breath in front of her and she had raised her eyes as soon as the spot in front of her had been shadowed and there, in front of her, was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

An elegant dust of red had been smeared on his lids, meanwhile kohl lined his eyes matching the outfit he had worn an elegant leather jacket on a red graphic shirt with “Gucci” written all over it, tucked in a pair of skinny ripped jeans, giving him a grunge look she fell in love with, meanwhile his face had an angelic trait, a clear contrast with his devilish outfit.

He had been blushing, clearly out of breath, his cheeks blossoming of a pink shade, meanwhile his eyes had tried to meet hers, looking at her as if she was searching something, which had gotten her to assume a confident stance or at least try to.

She had reasoned he couldn’t be a waiter, so he must have just come in, another client like her.

-I am Michael- he had blurted out and it had taken her a few minutes to link it with her date, meanwhile the boy had looked at her expectantly, without knowing what to do and asking for instructions -… Mallory’s friend-.

-Oh…- he was her date.

Her date was very beautiful: an androgynous god, with curly hair she wanted to caress.

-May… I … sit? – he had asked, shyly, ducking his head, meanwhile she had simply nodded trying to square up in her seat, and form a coherent dialogue.

-Of course- what a brilliant answer -… I am (Y/N), Mallory’s other friend- she had mumbled, cursing at the absurdity of her words, since he probably already knew, and she was being a fool, because his beauty had taken away any ability of hers to talk.

-I figured out- his laugh had been nice and warm, and he had offered her an hand after he had settled down; she was honestly grateful he hadn’t tried to come closer and kiss her, even just on the cheek, she was grateful he had half a knowledge of personal space -… I am also sorry for being late, I swear I don’t do it often… I had a photoshoot which took much more than I thought…-.

A photoshoot?

Was he a model?

He certainly had the look for it, being an ethereal creature with a big range, being able to assume a such a strong range, ruling both genders and all the ones between those.

-… you are a model? – she hadn’t meant to sound skeptical or anything, but she also hadn’t wanted to assume and just sound dumb…

-Yeah- his cheeks had become again flushed and she couldn’t help but want to pinch them gently but she had tightened the grip of her hands on her knees -… I know it’s strange, I still can’t believe it happened… one day you are in your grandma’s house and the following… you are shooting a photoshoot for Gucci-.

Hadn’t she been attracted before, she was now.

He clearly had seemed taken by the entire argument and she couldn’t help but love the shining passion in his eyes, his interest peaking when he mentioned the “Gucci” house, before hiding his face.

-… I am sorry I swear I am not trying to seem arrogant…- he had bitten his bottom lip, ashamed.

-Oh, don’t worry! – she had reached out her hand, pushing it over his shoulder, more to comfort him than actually to try anything, which had gotten her a grateful smile from him -…I actually know nothing about this world, but I also am very curious, so please talk all you want-.

He had become so red that she was sure he would have probably busted a coronary or something, but after a deep breath he had simply smiled and went back to talking about his life as a model and he also explained how he had met Mallory, working on a set for one of his photoshoot, since it wasn’t unusual for him to wear make-up (she had complimented the red eyelids, immediately getting a gentle smile).

“She is one of the best I have ever had: we need more sunshine-made people, on set!” he had giggled, meanwhile she had agreed that Mallory was everything good made as a person “… she said that she had a very cute roommate, meanwhile we were talking and she … said… “.

“I am sad that you in the end got a very annoying roommate” she had replied, meanwhile giggling a bit, just to be greeted with a slow gulp from the other boy who had then mumbled:

“I think that I actually got very lucky, instead, you are lovely” this had made her blush and the sudden silence had been interrupted by the waiter who asked their orders, letting them discuss on what they had chosen, Michael complimenting her drink choice, meanwhile she asked him if what had ordered wouldn’t make him gain weight, getting a wicked smile from Michael, who after a few minutes had started getting more at ease, even asking question on his own.

In the end, the night was nice and she actually had felt very enchanted by the shy model, who had suggested on her not getting an uber but getting a lift from him, so that he could apologize for his lateness; he had also tried to pay for the entire appetizer, getting instead a strict refusal.

“If you want a second date, you better understand that I am a pretty independent lady”.

She might have been wrong, but his eyes had shone interested at her own feistiness.

She had been bewildered at the elegant and sleek sportive car, immediately looking at it for a few good minutes, meanwhile Michael had explained he had paid it with the first money he had had, wanting something that could make him run away from everywhere.

“.. it’s presumptuous”.

“I think she is the prettiest” she had giggled, entering it with extreme attention, not wanting to damage the pretty thing in the slightest “… you know the night is definitely going amazingly”.

“I thought that when I saw you in the table” again a simple mumble getting her to smile and her cheeks were rushed with blood “… I mean… I was honestly expecting some creepy girl”.

“… same” she had replied, meanwhile she had laughed shyly, the car revving itself up underneath her and she almost had had to restrain a scream of excitement meanwhile they rushed to her home, a soft choice of classical music, mixed with jazz coming from the radio.

“You can change it” Michael had mumbled, eyes on the road, but she could sense the self-conscious note in his voice “… all my friends say that I have the musical tastes of an old man”.

“I don’t mind it” she had sung along, humming softly at the tone, soon Michael was with her and when a few more popular songs came on the radio they belted out, the complicity that had started that night clearly shining and although it was just an appetizer, she was extremely taken by Michael.

She just hoped he felt the same, although they had joked, Michael’s shyness made it difficult for her to understand him and although she had wanted to try to be more proposing, she also hadn’t wanted to disturb the quiet of the poor boy, whereas he had confessed how awful some people made him feel.

“It is all so crazy: people somtimes say that they admire me, and then get into fights “for me”, they insult others because of that... and I mean... it is stupid and terrible to have this kind of power”

So, she had opted for a more posed approach, waiting for him to act, but they had arrived all too soon in front of her house, and she had to invent something to conclude the night happily.

-I had fun, tonight- he had mumbled, looking in front of him, his tell-tale blush reappearing -… I mean… I usually do not got out to these kind of things… it’s been so so long since I have had a date, so… I can understand if this sucked-.

She had been honestly surprised for his love failures: such a pretty face with that enchanting manners shouldn’t be left all alone.

-… it didn’t suck- she had leaned in, again caressing softly his shoulder, again to comfort him and suddenly he came extremely closer to her, enough for a kiss.

But she, instead, had panicked: it was the first time it happened with a boy, she usually was so confident and…

… and she had grabbed his cheeks, indeed the softest she had ever felt.

But she was also extremely aware of how silly the entire thing must have seemed.

Perfect.

She had met a nice guy… and she blew her chances.

Michael just looked at her in the face, definitely confused but then a shy smile had taken over and he had mumbled something about having had indeed fun and then had gone to open the door, as a gentleman, wishing her goodnight.

“Goodnight” she had mumbled back, fidgeting with the cars, then adding “… it was a very nice night”.

“Definitely funny” he had smirked, and waited for her to be inside of her house (she knew he had, because when she had turned around she had found him propped onto the side of the car, waiting for her, clearly wanting to seem disinterested, but he was blushing, a lot…) before running away with his sportive car.

She had been sure it was the last time she would have ever seen him.

He hadn’t tried anything and certainly he hadn’t kissed “goodnight”, which wasn’t a bad thing.

She didn’t mind boys who took their time and didn’t shove their tongues down her throat, but she had halfway hoped that with a cutie like Michael, the spark would fly and although she had known that his shyness would be a bit in the way…

… still she had no sign of his interest, except the “I had fun, tonight”.

Had he “had fun” with her just as a friend? Or as a date?

Both?

Neither?

That’s what she had asked herself the entire day: she had never been this level of head over heels for anyone, but shy, model Michael who was way out of her league…

She thought that fashion was a beautiful industry but not hers: fashionable dresses looked good, on everyone except her.

And the bad thoughts keep on annoying her, mostly because usually she handled well rejection: she moved on quickly, thinking that it was simply not the guy for her.

But this time, it made her feel bad, about herself and her feelings.

Mallory had noticed her struggle that night, when she had come back and immediately had asked info on her date, just to receive her extremely gloomy roommate, who thought that Michael had disliked her in everything:

“We had a nice night… I mean… I did, but I am not sure about Michael… he was…- “she had bitten her tongue, meanwhile she had thrown her head back “… he seemed a bit off… and definitely not interes…”.

But before she could have finished her thought, Mallory had sent her a look which said “please don’t speak bullshit with me”.

-… I literally had Michael fanboying all over me, about how wonderful it was to have a date with you- she had mumbled, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel her heart burst of pure satisfaction.

-Tell me more- she had mumbled, even adding the entire sing-song voice as if she was in “Grease” and Mallory had looked conflicted.

-… I am not sure I am allowed to say more… Michael is my friend…- she had mumbled, just to get (Y/N)’ puppy eyes and after an exasperated sigh -… he says that you were very nice to talk to, he is an introvert so he needs people who don’t feel life-sucking and he said that you were also very respectful, and that he tried to lean in for a kiss but you went to pitch his cheeks, so… he was sure you were the one who didn’t like him…-.

Oh shit…

Shitshitshitshit…

That poor self-conscious boy.

She must have scared him.

Mallory had been a step from spilling more tea, when her phone had buzzled and she had gone to retrieve it from its charging point just to realize it was an unknown number and she was halfway from not answering, sure that it was a call center, but then Mallory had just shouted quickly:

“Answer it! It might be Michael! I gave him your number” which had made her be extremely nervous, sending her an incredulous look: Mallory had taken this matchmaker role too far.

-Hello? – her voice wavering, not giving out too much, since she had been honestly scared of what might happen next… and worst of all that it might have indeed up to be a call-center.

-(Y/N)? – Michael’s voice was low and sweet, clearly shyness again shining in it, but she had known it all too well, although it was a bit distorted -… I am very sorry to bother you-.

-Oh, don’t worry, Michael… you are not disturbing me, in the slightest- she had adopted the immediate charm of her best flirting -… I am actually glad that you called me-.

-… oh…- she had then known that Michael was straight up blushing behind the phone -… well, I am glad that you answered me, and I hope you won’t think this is creepy, I asked your number to Mal-.

The entire phrase had been a continued babble, too fast that she had found it a bit difficult to follow him but it was extremely endearing.

-I don’t mind it, in the slightest- she had smiled, confidently -… I am actually happy she did, so that we can talk a bit more, I enjoyed our conversation, yesterday-

Michael had choked on the other line and after a few minutes of silence, she had felt him try to breath out a deep breath, before blurting out:

-…what about talking more, on a second date? -.

The second date had been lovely and they had been able to know each other in a more intimate way: she had talked about her body-issues, and how she had slowly moved upon the more tomboyish side, baring a part of her soul she hadn’t expected him to get and to even compliment.

“I am an androgynous model” he had mumbled, meanwhile they discussed over it at dinner, this time in an elegant restaurant he had suggested “… so I know that the entire thing about gender roles is stupid”.

He had also told her about his life, before modelling, stretching out on how comfortable he felt with her…

“… these are extremely delicate things…” he had mumbled, as a way of requiring her discretion “… my parents had trouble because of me, I was a very unwanted pregnancy and they both… died, when I was a child, so I was passed onto my grandmother: she wasn’t an amazing person, but it was due to her that I first got into modelling”.

She had shot the photo, which had made him famous, more out of pride, a prize to show to her friends, the one she met at the hair-dresser and the one with whom he she played bridge: she had posted it even on Facebook, with Michael’s help and the following day… a model agency was at his door.

“It was all too sudden” he had commented, meanwhile he had munched onto their appetizer, clearly not as refined in his aspect as with his manners “… but it was worth it; I am away from that horrible place and I have a bright future, for me”.

“That seems honestly lovely, I am glad that you had this all” and she still hadn’t understood why he would even think about going out with her, whereas everything around him was so bright, so charming and fascinating.

And she was just a simple piece.

Not the best one, not the worst one.

He had then proceeded with modelling funny stories, meanwhile she narrated her own ones, laughter had been leaving her mouth constantly the same from his, although blush never left his cheek, but his confidence had been slowly appearing and this time when he had leant in, after he had accompanied her back, she had kissed him.

Softly and shyly, clearly not wanting to hurt him or scare him away, but he had surprised her being bold enough to ask for a second kiss, and a third one and then she had felt his phone vibrating in his jacket (they had been so close during the kiss) and he had ignored it, a first time, just to lean in for his fourth kiss, his nose bruising against hers.

But at the second vibration, he had had to answer, with a grimace and she hid a little silly smile.

“Give me just a few minutes, please” he had asked, pleading with puppy eyes, and she let him, moving towards her house, blowing him a silly kiss.

They hadn’t met for another two weeks, since Michael’s phone call had been from his agent, John Henry Moore, an ex-model, who had programmed for him a little trip in Asia for a special photoshoot, and then, a little stay there for a modelling workshop with models from all over the world.

“You literally have no idea how boring it is in there” he always told her, when she was allowed to call her, time-zones always coming in the way “They are all so self-absorbed”.

It was a big joke, because he then told her all about how he had managed to make friends with each of the other models, although some were indeed presumptuous, “something was definitely stuck up there” he laughed, meanwhile she told him, about her “non-model routine”.

“I woke up, went to my job, passed a bit at the gym, did a bit of grocery shopping…” and he listened to her as if she was narrating him some epic adventure, whereas her life was completely the most annoying “… you seriously never get annoyed by my silly stories?”.

“Maybe I like the sound of your voice, a bit too much” he joked, and it was in that time that his voice and words made her center turn into molten liquid.

But Michael was not only shy, but sexual suggestions or innuendos were ineffective on him.

She could have probably laid naked in front of him and he would have been like “how was your day, lovely? Have you forgotten your clothes?”.

And part of her liked him all the same, and another part… wanted to push him down her bed, half of the time they spent together, because of that innocence.

A month had been enough to declare them “boyfriend and girlfriend”, which had gotten a delighted squeal from Mallory, one of the few who knew about their relationship, since they preferred keeping it private for another bit of time.

And for her it was enough: her sweet and handsome boyfriend who had a real talent for seeing beauty in each thing, even a tomboy like her.

A week, after two months together, he had suggested she joined him as his plus one at a party for the release of a collection of one of his stylist friends:

“I thought it would have been a fun idea for a different night out” he had mumbled, meanwhile he had blushed, probably because she had sat down on his lap, meanwhile they were in his luxurious loft, which he shared with other models, but they went out for the night so it was just the two of them “…if you don’t feel comfortable or anything…”.

“I think that I would enjoy it very much, Michael” she had giggled, staring to lay joking kisses all over his face “… I am just a bit confused on what to wear, I don’t know if I have anything proper for it”.

“What about the pantsuit you wore, when we went out, the last time” she couldn’t help but remember Michael’s face at the elegant pantsuit she had worn at their date in an expensive restaurant, an impulse buy, which had proven worth of its price (which was a lot) after she had seen Michael’s surprised face.

Her shy boyfriend had looked at her as if she was a freaking night goddess.

“I don’t think that it would follow the theme of the night” she had reminded him, hugging him closer, and leaving a few kisses in his exposed collarbone, meanwhile her nose followed the scent of the cologne he used, something which drove her crazy “Isn’t it “rock and fashion” themed?”.

“I am pretty sure that nobody would mind, after they see you in that outfit” he had blushed, hiding softly his face in her hair, meanwhile she had giggled at his silliness, diving in for a kiss on the crown of his hair.

“You are too cute, Michael” she had complimented him, meanwhile he had taken a step back to look at her in the eyes.

“… and you are a goddess, (Y/N)”.

This time it was her who had hidden in his neck, meanwhile he had smirked happily, as if his goal in life was to breakdown her tough exterior.

In the end she had managed to find something which was “fashionably rock and roll”, putting herself in a tight mini-skirt of jeans with fishnets and a leather jacket, which basically showed the least effort into it, not that she actually cared of matching the theme or seeming like the queen of the night, but she didn’t want to shame Michael, who clearly belonged into the world.

She had also allowed Mallory to paint her face, choosing a tough smokey eye with a crazy eyeliner and a dark lipstick, and she thanked God that it was matte, because she didn’t know how to applique it again without making a mess.

It was a bit excessive and Mallory had smudged it to match the grunge aesthetic of her outfit.

She had sent Michael a picture, after the make-up was realized getting back a ton of emojis (mostly fire and hearts), since when words fail, emojis worked perfectly for the model, so she felt a bit confident of her ensemble, although she felt like she was going to a masquerade party instead of a stylist lavish party.

And she couldn’t help but feel even worse, when she saw Michael’s full outfit: he had worn a pant version of what she had, with ripped jeans, showing fishnets under it, a strange cut shit, clearly made so it would seem ripped, but what was even more attractive was the corset over the shirt, which was extremely revolutionary but also it low key gave her a shit ton of ideas…

His make-up was spectacular, red highlighted the tiny speckles of green in his azure eyes, meanwhile the expert contouring highlighted the strong bone structure of his face, his cheekbones basically standing out on their own, with an elegant trace of blush, mixed with expert contouring.

Dark lips were smeared like hers and she low key sent her thanks to God, knowing that if they did make-out they wouldn’t have ruined the effect of the lipstick.

It was definitely the work of an expert, but she guessed that he had done it himself, since he had admitted, expecting her to hate him, that he liked the creative expression of make-up, the way it could change a face and highlight gracefully or destroy flaws, empowering a human.

“It’s a body-art, I honestly love it with all my heart, although it isn’t masculine or…”.

“If you think that I care about anything like that, you probably got me wrong” she had replied, caressing his curly hair “… you could dress up as a clown, and I would still want to kiss you”.

But that time, Michael had honestly outdone himself and she couldn’t help but admire him, beneath the lights of the entrance of the rented place they had chosen for the party.

“Do I have something on my face” he had mumbled, meanwhile she just awed at his face and as he had gone to grab her hand.

“Yeah… it’s a thing called beauty” she had replied, getting a quick laugh from the boy, who had just smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

“I really dig this Billy Hargroove’s girlfriend dress, babe” he had complimented her, with the sarcastic side she had discovered he did own “… but seriously, I think that I will have to keep you by my side for the entire event, or some model or stylist might steal you away from me”.

She had just blushed, mumbling about being only his, before they had strutted in, her less confidently of Michael, who, if he was even slightly nervous didn’t show it, at ease amongst elegant people in the chicest clothes she had ever seen, the kind you saved on your Pinterest boards.

She had met a lot of people, quickly forgetting a ton of names, but everyone seemed nice enough and they had kept offering her champagne, complimenting her for landing a beauty such as Michael, although she honestly felt like it wasn’t beauty the only thing that brought Michael out and made him special, but she had tried not to fight with Michael’s “friends”.

The stylist Ryan had been actually very nice, and she had been thankful for Michael’s fashion history lessons, so that she could navigate comfortably the conversation, but also Ryan, unlike the others, was actually also interested in her and asked a bit about her.

At a certain time, Michael had left her to give a cheer, something for which he had needed a few kisses of reassurance for, but he had done just fine as she had observed him raising her glass with complicity in her eyes, when he had finished his discourse.

And apparently her smile had done something for him.

He immediately had cornered her in a shadowy place, the boldest move she had firstly seen him do, not that the others had bothered, since they had been all busy taking in the next talker on the stage.

“We should get out, now that I have done my thing” he had suggested, clearly he had also reached its maximum of social energy.

“… what do you suggest, my knight in a shining armor?” she had asked, her hand in his, meanwhile they had moved out of the elegant house, inventing excuses as they met the people that they had talked with at the start of the night.

“There is a little diner not too away from here, it’s cute and it has a wonderful 50s aesthetic that I know you would dig” he had said, and you couldn’t help but feel moved by his sudden confidence: was it the confident outfit or the expressive make-up who brought this side of him out?

She hadn’t been complaining and she had let herself be led, in the diner, which was supposed to be only a few block away, so they hadn’t taken Michael’s car, and this had given them a good excuse to make out clumsily, dizzy on the champagne in the first alley they fhad ound, feeling like horny teenagers, but she hadn’t minded it so much when Michael had kissed her neck like rose petals, his curly hair tickling her face, meanwhile she giggled a bit too loudly.

Right when hands had slipped under the clothes, she had heard coughs and two guys, a bit drunk by the way they held onto each other, and she immediately straightened up, exactly like Michael, who blushed lightly.

She and Michael had moved to get away from the embarrassing situation but the two drunkards had started laughing and used the q-world.

Michael had seemed greatly unaffected, but he had just tried to pass of, but she couldn’t ignore it and had shot those two an hateful glare, but this was ineffective, since the two men just whistled at her but worst of all they said:

“What is a pretty girl like you doing with such a faggot?”.

But it didn’t stop there.

“Maybe she is the one with the dick, you know there are these disgusting people…”.

Michael couldn’t stop her, although he had tried to grab her arm, to stop her and get her to run away as fast as possible from those two, he had deemed dangerous.

“You just insulted my boyfriend, pricks” she had never been one to speak up about anything, but she had always had her own strong opinion, and this constant feeling of having to defend those she loved, like Michael “… I suggest you to say sorry”.

She had tried to keep her tone calm, but it didn’t work so well, since her fists had been shaking on her side, and Michael had tried to call her, saying it was no big deal.

But she had known it was a big deal: it was why Michael cowered in fear when he had to admit his passion for make-up, the fact that he was a model and he struggled to see that she loved him for who he was.

“What if we don’t want to, little freak?”.

Well, she had always known one way to make men listen.

And she had kneeled the nearest bastard straight in the groin, and as one went out, the other went down with him.

“Leave us alone, assholes” and she had turned around, cleaning her hand over her fishnets, meanwhile Michael had had this heated glance on his face, as if she had just stripped naked in front of him.

“I think that the diner might not be the best place after this” his pupils had been full-blown, he clearly had seen something he liked and she had dared just a light glance to his skin-tight jeans, just to discover, there was indeed a bulge in them.

“Mallory is over at her girlfriend’s house” she had suggested and soon they were again in Michael’s car, his hand gently skimming over her thighs.

Sexuality was something that she hadn’t very much explored with Michael, both due to his shyness and both to the fact that they were both taking it slow, but to say she wasn’t suddenly aroused was a lie.

She felt powerful for the effect she had had on Michael when she had fought those two pricks.

The rush onto the stairs almost made her trip onto herself and Michael, a few good laughs coming from their mouths, quickly shushed by their kisses and as soon as they were behind closed doors…

… she finally got her hands on the corset which had been teasing her all night, the idea of it staying during sex made her smirk, meanwhile Michael helped her out of the loose blouse she wore, immediately eyeing her simple bralette: she hadn’t meant to dress sexy, although it was almost part of the aesthetic so…but at least her panties and bra matched.

Michael looked at her, reverently and shyly, as if he was waiting for her to decide what to do, next… as if he was completely in her hands, a sensation which got to her head and to her thighs.

“That corset…” she mumbled, through kisses, Michael did know what he was doing, “… it made me feel things for the entire night”.

“… and that stunt, with those guys…” his eyes were honestly so dark that she almost thought he had contacts on, and he was so hard against her thigh “… I honestly was so scared, but you were so brave, you always are”.

She blushed, the mood dissipating a bit of sexiness in exchange for a softness, shining in her eyes as she guided him gently towards their sofa, straddling his lap.

“I am not, I was scared shitless, and it was definitely the champagne…” she joked, caressing gently his hair, pulling them back, away from his sweaty forehead, before laying a soft kiss on it “… you are the cool one, looking fearless on the catwalk, I would just fall on my face and make fun of myself”.

“You wouldn’t” he still laughed at the image “… but even if you did, you would just get up, as fierce as when you kicked that man in the crotch. Also remind me never to make you angry”.

“Right now I am awfully horny so…” she mumbled, meanwhile grinding against his thigh particularly roughly “… you better do something about it”.

“Not on the couch” he giggled, gently raising her “Mallory wouldn’t be happy”.

She continued with the kissing, the mood settling on a more romantic night, with him releasing her on the bed softly, not missing her little smiles.

And that was when the entire mood of the night shifted.

“You looked like a goddess, with those two assholes” Michael’s voice was breathy and before she knew it he was rutting into her, the hotness of the entire situation letting a silken breath be let out from her lips “… you were definitely the hottest woman I have ever seen”.

She didn’t know where it came from, but she couldn’t help but love that submissive tone in Michael’s hazy eyes, pleading her to do something, anything, and she did it, reversing their position and throwing herself on top of him, clearly in power right now.

This was power: the reverent look in Michael’s eyes, as if she was just sitting on his hipbone as if she was on a throne, her throne.

She tentatively grinded against him, slowly almost a caress against his clothed cock, meanwhile his face scrunched, eyes rolling back and she lowered herself to lick his neck, from his collarbones to the soft skin under his ear.

Moans erupted from Michael’s mouth and she giggled, at the tone, immediately going back to her previous position, smiling wickedly at the effect she had on him, before leaning down to kiss his lips, and whisper:

“Is this ok?” for her to take control on him for that night, drunk on the sheer power of relented dominance, but before she did more she wanted to check with him.

Sex and sexual preferences hadn’t been that discussed between them, so she wasn’t sure if this was something that Michael might even slightly be into, and she didn’t want him to regret this or to be even slightly uncomfortable with her.

“I thought that what I had between my legs was enough to say that I am enjoying this” giggled Michael, with more words she had heard him utter since the two drunkards had interrupted their make-up session “… but yeah it is ok… I actually prefer being… submissive in bed”.

She knew she wasn’t his first partner, Michael had had a previous relationship with a fellow male model (he had told her this when things had started being actually getting deeper between them, mostly because he was scared that she might be “prejudiced” towards him… strangely she wasn’t in the slightest) but she wouldn’t have guessed that he preferred the submissive role.

He was pretty shy, but Michael knew what he was doing constantly, unlike the constant chaos she was.

“Oh” she simply mumbled, before gently grabbing his hand from his side, pushing them up, over his head “… then… I think it’s my time to do something about it…”.

And she reached behind his legs, touching him over the clothes, meanwhile his hips keep rutting in the heel of her hand, meanwhile she giggled with mischief in her smile.

“… if you feel uncomfortable in the slightest, say “Gucci”…”.

She had never been the “dominant” of her relationships she hadn’t also very much thought about it, since sex was always some kind of childish thing with her previous partners: it was as if it had its passages and then… it was done… finished, whether you came or not.

Things had never been discussed and, although she tried to be vocal on her likes and her dislikes, most of the time “the man knew better” and she was always halfway through kicking them in the groin the following morning when they offered a second round.

That’s why she wanted Michael to be comfortable.

And also… not to lose that gaze full of admiration for her, although she felt like she might not deserve it.

“Did you…?” Michael laughed straight up in her face, and before she knew it her hand had quit the movement on his clothes and delivered a sound slap to his thigh, getting a pained moan “… that hurt”.

“You disrespected me, baby boy” she didn’t know how she had managed to speak like that, mostly due to her hate for pet-name, but Michael (literally) stood at attention “… it doesn’t work like that, you do it one more time, and you will not come for the entire night”.

Michael gulped down a big load of saliva and she took a moment to wait for his answer, taking in the beauty of the model: some of the red eyeshadows had been roughly smushed around the lid, and she saw the lipstick mark of the color she had worn that night on his neck.

He still looked like a beauty and she was curious about how beautiful he could get if ruined.

“Yes, mistress” he replied, searching her approval, since her gaze had wandered off him, but he didn’t dare touch her “I will be more respectful”.

She gently caressed his face, collecting a bit of sweat, before she leaned down on a kiss-mark to bite on it gently and leaving a hickey on it.

And meanwhile this happened, she delivered another slap to Michael’s hip, hearing him let out a pained moan which she quieted with a kiss, cooing him in his mouth, meanwhile she gently guided to turn him around.

“Good boy” she started peppering kisses on his shoulder-blades, Michael relaxing again under her touch and didn’t see the sound slap she gave him on his plump ass, which got an howl from the poor boy “… this is for speaking up, in matters you don’t have a say into”.

She then delivered another.

“This is for not being quick in answering me, I expect the best from my boy”.

Another.

“This is for not counting… and believe me you will get one till we reach ten” she waited for Michael frail “three”, checking any discomfort in his voice, but although Michael’s held a painful sting to it, it was hazed and rough due to the excitement he was in “… and then if you are a good boy… I might think about letting things go further…”.

And this got Michael to count, whining for each slap, till ten, meanwhile she adjusted him onto her laps (she couldn’t help but laugh at the size difference, but only inside, outside she needed to try to be stern).

When Michael breathed out the “ten”, she gently helped him to get in a more comfortable position, meanwhile he kind of limped due to the redness and stinginess on his ass, which she caressed in an attempt to comfort him, as she gently cooed him and complimented him on how well he had taken his punishment.

“My beautiful good boy…” she cooed on his lips, gently kissing him with peppering kisses, in an attempt to get his hazy eyes to focus on her, which happened and immediately Michael was on her lap, trying not to crush her, giggling gently.

“Wasn’t I good, mistress?” mischief shined in his eyes, which clearly told her that he knew the answer “… don’t I deserve a reward?”.

She knew that she was being a bit too easy to satisfy him, that she should have made him beg more…

… but he was the cutest with his pouty lips.

And she lowered onto him, her nose skimming his stomach, laying wet kisses on it with carefulness to his gasps and his moans, mapping his skin, from the most sensitive to the least, passing again on the formers in order to blow air on them and leave hickeys on them.

She then reached his pants and brought them down, alongside the fishnets, his bulge appearing from his designer boxers, the length clearly bigger than the ones she was “accustomed” to, and her mouth watered, opening slightly and mouthing over the “Versace” boxers.

Michael shifted and she just needed a glare to make the flinching stop, a nervous glance shone again in Michael’s face, as if he was scared, but that fear brought him even closer to ecstasy she knew it, but the way its body trembled under her fingers, meanwhile she traced patterns on his stomach.

“Don’t ruin your reward, sweetie, wouldn’t want to hold you over the edge, right when you are falling from it”.

And then her mouth engulfed him again, taking more than before, still over the fabric but he lost himself, still he kept himself stiller than before, for which he was rewarded with a tiny peck on the tip of his cock, meanwhile an hand went to fondle him inside the boxers, finally pushing them down.

Her eyes shone at the leaking pre-cum on the tip, at the redness and silky feeling of the entire length which was confirmed by a quick touch, getting a shy moan from Michael: he sounded almost pathetic, but there was some melody in that ruin.

She lowered her mouth on him, meanwhile her eyes met him and soon their gazes were enthralled and linked, and she was unable to watch away as much as him…

… and when her mouth wrapped on him, he closed his eyes, just to be slightly reprimanded with a slap on his thigh, and a silly pinch.

She started with the tip, kitten lick and engulfing it in the warmth of her mouth, and the moved further, trying to take as much as she could and fit the rest in her hands, meanwhile teeth were sheltered under her lips, and hair fell down deliberately around her.

She must have been a truly masterpiece.

But Michael kept on looking at her, as if she was indeed some goddess and she only felt spurred by this to continue her ministration, till she felt him twitch and she backed off from him, a devilish smile on her face.

“… beg me, my sweet boy”.

Michael was clearly taken by surprise and she couldn’t help but lean down to kiss his lips, letting him taste pre-cum on them, but retreating to quickly, another way to tease him, as the hands that wasn’t working on him, caressed distractedly his nipples.

“I am not hearing anything, Michael” she taunted him, lightly.

“Please…” it was soft, and low, and she pretended not to hear it “… please, mistress, I need to come…”.

“That was quite cute, but you didn’t seem so desperate…” she considered, even holding an hand under her chin, as if she was thinking about it as the other speed up the rhythm on his cock “… and don’t forget… you have to wait for my permission to cum”.

Michael sniffled, slightly, showing teary eyes and she broke off character thinking that maybe she had gone too far.

“… did I go too far?” any teasing or annoying tone was brought away, and just worry filled her eyes.

Michael also broke away from his role, although tears shone in his eyes, he smiled, shyly.

“I haven’t said Gucci, have I?” he asked, sassily and the ruling part of her wanted to gently slap him across the face, for such disrespect, but then his voice broke off, excitement and haziness showing in her “… I am fine”.

“I was just scared I got a bit taken by this…” she tried, meanwhile he gently “… but now that we both know it’s fine, I suggest you to beg, because if you are not that desperate we can go on, for a little bit… longer”.

Michael’s teary eyes this time didn’t stop her and she just waited, till Michael obnoxiously mumbled a “please” after another, and another and she knew that he was basically on the brink of an orgasm, and although it would have been truly cruel to let him like this, she gave him the nod, which led to the permission…

…which lead him to come roughly and thick creamy cum was soon coating her hand.

He almost passed out, since not only he was breathing heavy enough for her to be sure that even the neighbors heard him, and worst of all his eyes rolled back and for a few moments she was sure that he was out for the tonight.

But then his hand reached out for her, as if he was asking for something to anchor him back after a mind-blowing orgasm, which got her to cradle him closer, his hand on her thighs, gently caressing his hair, meanwhile she waited for him to come back.

And when he did, he smiled softly and shyly, and she did her best to reassure him with gentleness and softness trying her best to make the atmosphere feel comfortable with him.

“I have to admit that I have never… you know… that hard”.

It was almost cute to see Michael like that after he had just acted that loosely with her, but she tried not to bring it up, the poor boy was already burning from embarrassment, she just shushed him,,kissing his forehead.

“Well… it was also my first time, in that kind of dynamic, I hope I wasn’t too rough” she asked, meanwhile she kept on taking slow care of him.

She thought about seriously giving him a bath, mostly because they were both a sticky mess, and the eyeshadows she had loved was smeared also on his nose, which she flickered gently to get his attention.

“… you were amazing” he replied, softly, his tone rough “… I think that nobody did make me feel like this, I honestly felt so secure with you, you always make me feel, like that”.

“Of course, sweetie” she kissed his nose, this time; the compliment went straight up to her mind, she couldn’t help but feel amazed that he felt like that about her, it was an honor, truly “… I love you, and this means that I want every inch of you”.

“People have always made me feel stupid for what I was…I was always too pretty, too stupid, too feminine and nobody ever wanted me for me” he gently reached for one of her hands, to kiss it gently “… not you, you are infinitely patient with me, and don’t mind each of my ‘flaws’…”.

“They are not flaws, Michael” she replied, meanwhile he looked at her up, surprised “… they are what make you, you, and I wouldn’t change anything in the slightest, so don’t even think about a moment that they ‘flaws’ “.

“You make me beyond happy, (Y/N)” he mumbled shyly, kissing again her hand, and laid a soft kiss onto her thighs, and she couldn’t help the shiver that left her body at the sheer contact.

For the entire time she had been focused only on Michael’s pleasure, but she couldn’t hide for much more hers, copious and heavy between her thighs, wetting the inside of them and she was sure that had Michael kissed a bit higher, he would have met her wetness.

She was still wearing her fishnets and panties under them, but her excitement was evident, and Michael couldn’t help but take in, a guilty look on his face.

“I wasn’t a true gentleman… I didn’t let you finish first” he mumbled, shyly and he quickly moved to make himself place between her legs, his intention clear.

“… oh you don’t have to” she giggled, trying to dissipate her embarrassment, closing her legs to stop him “… it was fine, I actually”.

“Oh no you don’t get it” he rapidly broke her fishnets and she couldn’t help but wonder where her gentle boy had gone, mostly when he looked at her like that, with a devilish glint in his eyes “… I want my revenge for before, so sit back, little princess and let me handle it”.

And soon his tongue was between her legs and she couldn’t think about anything more, except begging for more.

… oh, how the table have turned.

Mallory was drinking her coffee, when they finally decided to exit the bed, Michael had insisted for a morning round, just to be remembered halfway through it that he had a meeting in thirty minutes, and she had had to take the reins in her hands.

Well, now they were both satisfied and in need of breakfast, just to be welcomed by Mallory’s knowing glance, and she discovered even more because of the evident hickeys on both of them, and the little bruises she had left on Michael’s hips with the pinching and the slapping.

(Michael still hissed when he sat down on the table, for the spanking of the previous night).

“Shouldn’t you be at Coco’s?” she asked to dissipate the embarrassment.

“I have a meeting in twenty minutes” and then she looked at Michael, after she had taken a sip from her coffee mug “So does Michael”.

The boy, smiled shyly, almost hiding behind her and she wondered where had gone the boy who had eaten her out till tears, last night, rutting his hips in the mattress…

… probably the same place where Mallory’s interest for her own matters went.

“I can give you a lift, if you get me a mug of coffee” suggested Michael and Mallory just smirked, going to the kitchen, leaving them alone, meanwhile Michael gently leaned down for a “goodmorning kiss”.

“… see you tonight, lovely” he giggled, before kissing again his forehead.

“So we are that couple?” she replied, sarcasm coming from each poor of her.

“Sweetie you kicked somebody in the groin for me, of course we are that couple” he exclaimed, kissing her forehead quickly “… love you”.

“Love you, too”.

---

Thank you for reading everything!

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thebibliomancer · 7 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #170: “... Though Hell Should Bar The Way!”

April, 1978

Oh, hey, Jocasta is back! Good ol’ unfortunately named Jocasta!

And this is a very good DC Silver Age-esque comic cover. Heroes acting inexplicably only to be sort of explained kinda on the inside. I can’t wait to see how this scenario does not even come about.

Remember the cover where Mantis was protecting Libra from the rest of the Avengers but inside she tried to beat him up for pulling a Vader on her?

Also, “The Return of the Bride of Ultron” is a very Hammer Horror-esque title. Drop the definite article and its basically one.

But enough admiring the cover. Lets get into it.

Last time: Back in issues 161-162, Ultron gave Hank Pym amnesia as part of a weird plan to trick him into turning the Wasp into a robot for Ultron to marry. It was foiled when the robot wife summoned the Avengers with ants and Iron Man threatened to destroy her, forcing Ultron to back off.

But also recently, there’s some unrest in the house of avenge. A series of overpowered foes have been battering the Avengers esteem and as a result one stalwart chums are at each other’s throats. Cap blamed Iron Man for his absentee leadership but then Scarlet Witch went OFF on Cap’s own performance recently.

The Avengers consist mostly of hurt feelings and bruised egos at this point, basically.

So we start with Cap taking his frustration to the gym.

Beast also tries to cheer him up, in his own inimitable way.

Problem: I don’t think Cap has ever been a fan of Beast’s sense of humor. There’s been several instances since Beast has joined the team where Cap has told him to stop clowning.

And he once again does so here.

So Beast tries a different strategy. He offers to tell him about some sexual escapades.

Because in the past, Cap seemed into it. It’s the closest they’ve come to bonding as teammates.

But Cap is in a Mood so he fakes a fall to freak out Beast before catching himself on the uneven bars.

Not cool, Cap.

He then angrily pumps some iron.

Because as someone pointed out to him, he’s been useless lately. And he doesn’t have superpowers unlike some people he could mention so he’s got to keep his few skills sharp.

Beast: “You know, Cap, you’re a lot like Witchy in a way -- you both take everything way too seriously! Now, me, I never take --”

Cap: “Get lost, Beast!”

Rude.

And then Iron Man shows up which just gets Cap more tightly wound.

Iron Man just wants to have a word with Cap in private.

So Beast, in his own display of pettiness, effortlessly picks up the 500 pound weight that Cap was working out with to put it away.

Savage.

Anyway, as soon as Beast is gone, Iron Man tries to start the word in private with Cap but Cap claims to be busy and passive-aggressively starts working out with the mobile stunblaster while Iron Man is trying to talk.

The mobile stunblaster is, of course, a work out machine that follows you around and tries to shoot you with punch beams while you have to block it with special gloves.

I expect that all gyms have one. Its basic workout equipment.

Cap isn’t really receptive but Iron Man manages to get out what he wanted to say.

Iron Man: “Look, Cap, what I came to say --”

Cap: “Let me guess, Tin Man -- you want to tell me I was way off base criticizing your leadership -- since I haven’t been earning my keep lately!”

Iron Man: “No. I came to apologize for myself and for Wanda! None of us have been setting the world on fire lately! She had no right to judge you!”

Cap: “It doesn’t matter! I’ve judged myself... and in my own eyes, I’ve fallen short! Maybe I’ve been lax lately --! It won’t happen again, Tin Man! Never again!”

Iron Man: “Fine! I want you to know Cap... I feel the same way about the job I’ve done as chairman! I’ve made some bad decisions... let other matters occupy time I owed the Avengers... and when I was around, I tried to do it all myself! I guess I felt guilty... and I kept trying to prove my worth! Just wanted you to know -- I’m aware of my failings! I -- I’ll try harder, Cap... or, if you think I should, I’ll step down! You can take over!”

Cap: “Wait! Iron Man, I guess my problem is that I’ve seen too many friends die in battle -- and when it seemed as if your job with Stark outweighed your Avengers’ duties -- as if you were taking your responsibilities lightly --!”

Iron Man: “I wasn’t! But... about Stark. Cap -- I should have told you long ago that --”

Cap: “No... keep your secrets, Iron Man! You lead... I’ll follow -- that’s enough!”

MmmMMMM. That is some good open and honest communication.

I love it. The me who first read this a couple years back was a fool to come off this run with the impression that it was just the Avengers getting their asses kicked and yelling at each other.

Its the Avengers getting their asses kicked, yelling at each other, and then having productive, emotionally honest conversations. It is my JAM.

Canonically, the first Civil War wouldn’t even have happened if Cap and Iron Man had set their feelings out like this.

I like that Cap passive-aggressively working out during this conversation keeps it from being talking heads because we get a bunch of unnecessary ACTION POSES as Cap works out.

But while Cap and Iron Man SOCIAL LINK GO or perhaps SUPPORT CONVERSATION depending on where your interests lie, out in the living room some other Avengers have less dramatic bonding.

Vision and Wonder Man play a game of chess together, Jarvis and Scarlet Witch admiring what good friends they’ve become off-screen. Much improved from existential angst causing Vision to try to punch him a lot and then they have to fight a gravity jerk.

They do, after all, have a lot in common. Like a brain.

But they get a phone call from Hawkeye who reveals that Two-Gun Kid has vanished. Disappeared even!

He tells Scarlet Witch not to bother coming. There’s nothing to find at the scene of the crime. So he’ll come to them.

Meanwhile, in Attilan, the Inhuman city in the Himalayas, Quicksilver is moody. But that’s nothing new, he was like that before.

He’s sitting on a balcony gazing beyond the city.

His wife Crystal asks if Attilan confines his spirit, having to stay in a secret city after all the glory and daring of being an Avenger. The battles, the thrills, the running full speed into a wall and breaking every bit of your skeleton bone.

But just as Quicksilver is saying he would never leave her, he vanishes mid-reassurance.

No, he didn’t run away in the most supremely dickish way ever. Like Two-Gun, he’s been disappeared.

What is going on here?

A story for later.

But for meanwhile we’re back to the Avengers Mansion where the Wasp shows off her new costume.

I don’t know what to say about it. Its not the worst she’s had. You don’t see as many superhero costumes that are orange and yellow. And Jan knows that branding is important because she put W for Wasp all over herself. Her gloves are cut to suggest Ws as are her boots. She’s got cleavage W and an abdomen W too.

Yellowjacket actually warns Wonder Man that if Wasp notices him in civvies, she’ll get him in a new costume so fast!

Wonder Man defers. He’s decided he’s not the costume type.

The thing about the Wasp is even if she makes a costume for someone else, she often makes it to appeal to her own tastes. Like when she made a costume for Angelica Jones, Firestar, with a pluuuuuuuuunging neckline. To Firestar’s lament.

So what I’m saying is that if Wonder Man let Wasp dress him, he’d definitely end up in thigh boots and with W’s all over his clothes.

Although, Wonder Man does become an actor later on who plays oiled up big muscles tiny shorts roles. So he’d probably rock it.

And then some colorful comic relief blue collar characters show up.

Wasp put her foot down and told Hank that she would not live with a Real Doll version of herself in the house so Hank hired Meyer and Mack to move her into his lab in the mansion.

Meyer is a real ‘seen it all’ type. Nothing impresses him. Avengers? Pssh. He moved Neil Sendaka’s ‘pianer’ once. Yellowjacket starts monologuing “[Jocasta] was conceived in evil, and yet while Ultron was transfering Jan’s life into her metal body, she unselfishly gave up her own existence by summoning us in time to stop the process and save Jan!” and Meyer all but taps his watch and reminds Yellowjacket that he’s on a flat rate.

Now Mack on the other hand? Mack is sure impressed.

And possibly discovering he has a new fetish.

Elsewhere in Saugerties, New York, the Guardians of the Galaxy secretly watch over a young Vance Astrovik. They’re sure that any day now evil cyborg from the future Korvac is going to try to knock off Vance to prevent the Guardians of the Galaxy from ever forming.

That is, if young Vance doesn’t manage to get himself killed first.

Since he’s playing baseball in the middle of a dark street and if Charlie-27 hadn’t been there, a truck would have run him over.

How he survived in the original timeline without future people being his guardian angels is a bit of a mystery.

Charlie-27: “It’s a wonder anyone reaches maturity in this idiotic backward era!”

An era where people toss spheroids in the middle of the road and where strange pieces of paper can be exchanged for food items. What strange customs.

The takeaway here is that, yes, the Guardians are busy guardianing Vance Astrovik and even though Korvac actually has bigger fish to fry and their vigil over Vance is misguided, its not pointless.

But meanwhile, back at the plot, Meyer and Mack finish carting the Jocasta crate into Hank Pym’s lab.

And just as Mack is marveling at how ‘real’ Jocasta looks (presumably for someone made entirely of metal with silly metal hair tentacles and also robot eyelashes) the robot girl awakens and OH YEAHS through the crate.

Jocasta: “He has awakened me! He calls! I must go to him! Let nothing stop me!”

Meyer and Mack flee the lab and run into an unhappy Yellowjacket who heard the crash of the OH YEAH and assumes that they fucked something up.

Which is probably not the case.

After escorting the movers out, the Avengers (Vision, Scarlet Witch, Wonder Man, Yellowjacket, and Wasp) run towards the lab.

But listening to the voice in her head, Jocasta finds the button that locks down the lab and then obviously locks down the lab.

Yellowjacket and Wasp managed to slip through the door before it closed. Doors never really bothered Vision anyway. But that leaves Wonder Man and Scarlet Witch locked out.

And the door is really tough! Its made of a special alloy almost as impenetrable as adamantium. Although the fact that it doesn’t get a name here sort of implies its going to be back to the drawing board.

But either way, the whole lab has been reinforced with it. For security reasons.

Scarlet Witch is sure that if she concentrates her probability altering powers, she can get the door to crumble but in the meantime, Wonder Man is going to keep punching like it personally insulted him.

Inside the lab, the three Avengers discover Jocasta up and about and creepy. She talks with Jan’s voice except cold and metallic. (Its never discussed whether Vision sounds like Wonder Man but since his body was the Human Torch’s I think probably not).

Vision isn’t creeped out. Somehow Ultron activated the Jocasta robot from afar and makes her speak like Jan hoping the Avengers will hesitate. But Vision won’t.

Drama is passed down in the family and as Ultron loves breaking Hank Pym’s things, so too will Vision break Ultron’s.

Except apparently Ultron planned for this. When he does the thing he always does and tries to intangible inside the robot to disrupt her circuits, he discovers an anti-matter booby trap.

It fills him with deadly energies and also copious amounts of pain.

Meanwhile, Beast has arrived at the door. He’s been looking for Thor but Thorry no Thor to be found.

That’s not one of his jokes. I just couldn’t resist.

Scarlet Witch is finally ready to do the thing she do and make probability weep but apparently the door has personally insulted Wonder Man by now. He proclaims a grudge match and finally punches it down.

Maybe its because it didn’t initially fall when he reminded everyone that his punches are approximately on the level of Thor’s hammer.

He says that a lot. That and the fact that he was created to fight the whole original Avengers roster.

I think its to remind the audience what Wonder Man’s deal is. But it also fits in with him being insecure, especially since nearly every time he talks about his fists being on the level of Mjolnir, the fight goes bad for him.

Inside the lab, Wonder Man, Beast, and Scarlet Witch find the Vision who tells them not to touch him because of the deadly energies. But that they need to pursue Jocasta.

Who has left the lab and is in the courtyard.

...

So all that effort to punch down the really expensive door was for naught? Did they really have no one guarding the other exit from that room?

Geez.

In the courtyard, Wasp and Yellowjacket fail to do anything to prevent Jocasta from strolling away, punching random plants.

Wasp: “Hank, I’m afraid Ultron’s strategy is working. I can’t bring myself to hurt her! It’d be like hurting myself!”

Yellowjacket: “I -- I know what you mean!”

Lets ignore, for once, the obvious and terrible irony involving future events. Lets go right in and focus on Jan not being able to hurt anything bearing an image of her.

Her one weakness. She just loves what she sees in the mirror too much to ever raise a hand to it.

The two heroes try to use their respective ranged attacks at low power to drive Jocasta back into the mansion but then Yellowjacket makes the mistake these two heroes always make and flies in too close.

She nabs him out of thin air and starts squeeeezing

Then Beast do what Beast do. DYNAMIC ENTRANCE, BOOT TO THE HEAD!

Then because Yellowjacket distracts Beast asking him not to smash Jocasta if he can help it, Jocasta shoots him in the face with eye lasers.

Because, of course, Ultron built her with eye lasers.

The family that slays together, right?

Wonder Man goes to punch her to scrap but she has a force field. Of course she does.

And even though he could punch through it eventually, in the here and now she shoots him in the face with eye lasers.

Scarlet Witch uses her power over nature (I guess she does just have both skillsets interchangably. Neat) to wrap Jocasta up in a tree in much the way a tree does not and cannot do.

Jocasta just flexes her way free. Because she has robot super strength.

Ultron, your wife is too powerful. You’re shaming the rest of us with your unstoppable killing machine wife.

The Avengers regroup and think about this. Maybe if they use teamwork and work as a team, assemble if you will, maybe if they strike as one they can overcome this robot lady.

Before they can, Iron Man comes in blasting.

Not at her, at them.

Iron Man: “Leave her alone! The first Avenger who harms her answers to me!”

And then Thor appears out of nowhere, calling it a long-delayed return (weird time stuff is still going on with him). Instantly deduces a battle is happening and decides that it would be a really cool way to enter the battle if he smashes this mysterious robot woman with his hammer.

I’m not saying that Thor always goes for the move that will fit best on an album cover but I’m sure that it runs through his mind sometimes.

Captain America is confused that Thor doesn’t recognize Jocasta since he was there when they stopped Ultron from putting Jan’s soul in her. And he’s not sure where he’s flying in from since he was just in the mansion minutes ago.

BUT HE HAS TO SAVE ROBOT GIRL!

And he throws his mighty shield and even Mjolnir must yield.

Also, after their little talk, Iron Man and Cap are back in the whole friendly pal/chum kind of thing. Like. Almost exaggeratedly so. Like Cap is making a real effort.

-Iron Man catches Cap after he jumps off the roof to throw his mighty shield-

Cap: “Thanks, Iron Man!”

Iron Man: “Good work, Cap! Took a heck of a chance, though!”

Cap: “Not really. I figured someone would catch me! After all, teamwork’s the name of the game!”

It practically screams I’M GOING TO BE POSITIVE!!

The other Avengers criticize Iron Man and Cap for letting Jocasta go. Which she does by literally walking through the wall. Geez. Ultron your wife is so strong.

Anyway. Iron Man explains the obvious thing. His armor sensors have locked on to Jocasta’s electrical patterns. Obviously they’re going to follow her and she’s going to lead them to Ultron!

Hot damn! Avengers being proactive! Kinda! I mean, Jocasta waking up was on Ultron but instead of just letting the killer robot lurk around somewhere and make a new plan to be murdery and oedipal, Iron Man is going to do something about it!

Unless this is a trap!

But that’s just the hazards of the job.

Also, I guess the cover was more or less accurate. The exact scene didn’t exactly happen but the spirit of it basically. Although Iron Man never blasted Wonder Man. In fact, he apologized that he had to blast near him to stop him.

So this is my second read through this run on Avengers. So like the brown bear I know ALL. But the first time around, I’m pretty sure I didn’t see Jocasta coming back.

I mean, it was only eight issues back. But that’s over half a year. Generally a loose end like Jocasta either comes back in the next issue or is teased throughout to remind the readers that its totally going to be a plot device.

If not, usually the loose end doesn’t come back so soon. And just gets brought back by the first writer who remembers it was a thing.

Apparently Jocasta has just been propped up in Hank Pym’s living room the whole time with Jan growing more and more disgruntled with it.

There’s not much to say about Jocasta herself. She’s kind of like the Wonder Man zuvembie. More plot device than character right now. But an intriguing one.

So next time: more of this. The Revenge of the Return of the Bride of Ultron. But it won’t be called that, alas.

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