#i type like a fuckin businessman i hate it

[kossamer]

[COMMISSIONS OPEN! 🟢🟢🟢]

After weeks of pondering I have finally opened commissions! Here is a whistle stop tour of prices, rules etc.

click here for more rules and samples

Form here

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I have opened up 3 slots given my availability this month and the next, but if you dont make it into those 3, you will be put into the waiting list and be next in line (which probably wouldnt be long unless something major happens)

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DM me if you have any questions, or just let me know if youve filled in the form (or just tell me about ur day idk)! Please DONT dm to ask for a commission straight away, Ive had a couple scammers try their luck and I will be a bit paranoid unless I know you!

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If you cant support me at this time thats absolutely no problemo 😀 just reblog or share it around and that would be a great help!

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Personal note: the thought of commissions leave me absolutely mortified, but I wont do it unless I force myself to! Hope the light background and lighter font colors didnt give you too much eye strain.

[taiteilija]

wokulski

Yeah, I may be just a tiny bit into that guy and that story. (Tiny - said me, writing quite a long wokulski x ochocki fic…) Guess, most of my followers wouldn’t know a thing about this fandom and I do apologise for attacking you with it, but I’m rushing back to my old beloved book (and TV series) which is Lalka (The Doll) by Bolesław Prus and I have no control over it, I’m afraid. 

It’s a real pity it’s not as popular as, for instance, Russian classics. It’s a proper 19th century book and it’s as good as Tolstoy. Just not recognised enough.

It’s mostly about this amazing, intelligent, businessman and scientist enthusiast (Stanisław Wokulski) who’s that strong silent type, never in love before and then he’s like 46 and he has this huge stupid crush on a woman who’s from a very different social class than he is and he’s like struggling between his heart and mind, climbing up the social ladder, hating himself for it and at the same time being like a fuckin’ train heading straight towards a brick wall cause he simply can’t stop loving her. And, of course, there’s this typical 19th century social and historical background to this romantic disaster which makes it more than just a cliché romance.

[pradaksj]

thank u, next . | series masterlist

© pradaksj. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify, translate or copy.

↳ consider buying me a kofi :) 

✍︎ on-going | ✓ completed

♛ Series Summary 

12 stories all based on a song from Ariana Grande’s self-proclaimed album “thank u, next”. Stories will be based off either certain lyrics or overall song idea(s), and will have a variety of different AU’s. Lastly, some of these stories will have happy endings and others will not, I make no promises ;). 

➵ Rating: mature  

➵ Status: ongoing

➵ Genre(s): angst, smut, fluff, etc. 

 ♛ IMAGINE (m.) | seokjin/reader 

        ↳ read here 

genre: boyfriend!seokjin , fluff, smut. 

word count: tbd.

━ ❝ Stayin' up all night, order me pad thai then we gon' sleep 'til noon. Me with no makeup, you in the bathtub, bubbles and bubbly, ooh. ❞

♛ Needy (m.) | yoongi/reader

       ↳ read here

genre: businessman!yoongi, fluff, smut, angst

word count: tbd. 

warnings: alcohol consumption, slightly toxic behavior from y/n, etc. 

━ ❝ I'ma scream and shout for what I love. Passionate but I don't give no fucks, I admit that I'm a lil' messed up, but I can hide it when I'm all dressed up. I'm obsessive and I love too hard, good at overthinking with my heart. How you even think it got this far? ❞

♛ NASA (m.) | hoseok/reader

       ↳ read here

genre: flashback au, post break up au, smut, angst 

word count: tbd. 

warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, etc.

━ ❝ I can't really miss you if I'm with you, and when I miss you, it'll change the way I kiss you. Baby, you know time apart is beneficial, it’s like I'm the universe and you'll be N-A-S-A. ❞

♛ Bloodline (m.) | namjoon/reader

       ↳ read here

genre: lifeguard!namjoon, swim instructor!reader, angst, smut. 

word count: tbd. 

warnings: lots and lots of sex. 

━ ❝ Even though you're bad for me, I know. You're the one that I'm thinkin’, got me feelin' so incredible, would you mind maybe linkin'?... No, we won't be talking the next day, I ain't got nothin' to say. I ain't lookin' for my one true love. Yeah, that ship sailed away. ❞

♛ Fake Smile (m.) | jimin/reader

       ↳ read here

genre: divorce!au, pressured marriage (not exactly arranged), angst, smut, events leading to divorce. 

word count: tbd.

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, etc.

 ━ ❝ I can't fake another smile, I can't fake like I'm alright. ❞

♛ Bad Idea (m.) | jungkook/reader

       ↳ read here

genre: friends w benefits au, friends to lovers au, lovers to enemies au, angst, smut. 

word count: tbd

warnings: tbd. 

━ ❝ I got a bad idea, yeah, I'ma call you over here to numb the pain. I got a bad idea. ... Even though we shouldn't, baby boy, we will. Need somebody, gimme something I can feel, but boy, don't trip you know this isn't real. You should know I'm temporary. ❞

♛ Make Up (m.) | taehyung/reader

       ↳ read here

genre: college!au , angst, smut. 

word count: tbd. 

warnings: toxic relationship! (in no way do I mean to glamorize or support toxic relationships) , drinking, swearing, etc. 

━ ❝ I like to fuck with you just to make up with you, cause the way you be screamin’ my name, make me wanna make love to you. I might break up with you just to make up with you. At the end of the day, boy you know that I'm 'bout to wake up with you. ❞

♛ ghostin (m.) | seokjin/reader

       ↳ read here ✓

genre: angst (like 80% is angst) , neighbor!au , bit of fluff , friends to lovers.

word count: 38,000+ 

warnings: major character death! sad ending!

━ ❝Though I wish he were here instead. Don't want that living in your head, he just comes to visit me when I'm dreaming every now and then. ❞

♛ In my Head (m.) | yoongi/reader

       ↳ read here

genre: college au, fuckboy!yoongi ,naive!reader, angst, smut

word count: tbd. 

warnings: alcohol consumption, sexting, etc. 

━ ❝ You're in love with a version of a person that you've created in your head, that you are trying to but cannot fix. The only thing you can fix is yourself...Painted a picture, I thought I knew you well. I got a habit of seeing what isn't there. Caught in the moment, tangled up in your sheets, when you broke my heart I said you only wanted half of me. My imagination's too creative, they see demon ... I see angel. Without a halo, wingless angel.❞

♛ 7 Rings (m.) | taehyung/reader

       ↳ read here ✍︎

genre: richboy!taehyung, scammer!reader, infiltration au, smut, angst. 

word count: tbd. 

warnings: illegal activities such as scamming, faking official documentation, etc. 

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em.❞

♛ thank u, next (m.) | jimin/reader

       ↳ read here

genre: backpacker!jimin, backpacker!reader, some fluff, angst, smut.

word count: tbd .

warnings: voyeurism, car sex, illegally trespassing, usage of weed, etc. 

━ ❝ Say I've loved and I've lost, but that's not what I see. So, look what I got, look what you taught me. And for that, I say ... Thank you, next! I'm so fuckin' grateful for my ex. ❞

♛ Break up with your Girlfriend, im bored (m.) | jungkook/reader

      ↳ teaser

      ↳ read here ✓

genre: 1920′s au, burlesque/clubsinger!reader, infidelity au , angst, smut. 

word count: 17,000+ 

warnings: infidelity, swearing smut, etc. 

━ ❝ You got me some type of way, ain't used to feelin' this way. I do not know what to say, but I know I shouldn't think about it. Took one fuckin' look at your face, now I wanna know how you taste... You can say I'm hatin' if you want to, but I only hate on her 'cause I want you. ❞

[littlewickedwiccan]

For The Workers

Chapter 3 

Alfie x Reader

Warning: Swearing, obvs

Authors note: We finally get some one on one time with Alfie. Enjoy! x  

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

Tags: @itsjusttaralove​ @advictedtohim​

Today is the first day you are stepping foot into the Camden warehouse as a worker rather than as an uninvited visitor. You’d not slept much the night before, you have a current of electricity running through your body and a knot forming in your stomach. You feel oddly giddy about spending the whole day in the warehouse and you just can’t shake yourself out of it. 

You’d been assured by Tommy before you left Birmingham, that there would always be a Peaky keeping an eye on you. Although it was meant to make you feel safer, it just made you very aware of all the eyes that were already being redirected in your direction.  

As you made your way through the large oak door frame, Ollie’s youthful face greeted you at the door. Out of all the men you’d come across in this place, he seemed the least threatening.  

“Welcome back. Alfie sent me to come show you to your office. It’s only small, but for the work you’ll be doing, it should be alright.”

Ollie gets straight to the point and starts leading you down the red brick corridors, past the workers that have already started on the day's tasks. You have to squeeze through men lugging heavy barrels on their sweat soaked backs, their caps pulled down over their tired eyes. You can feel the men stealing glances at you as you pass and you instinctively pull your ankle length coat closer around you.  

“This here’s Alfie’s office” Ollie pointed to the room you’d sat outside of that first time you’d visited with Tommy. The door was wide open and you could now see Alfie’s big brown desk and cluttered shelves looming in the shadowy space.   

“When the door’s open, feel free to pop your head in. If it’s closed, it’s best to steer clear.” Before you have time to get a better view inside, he carries on walking, making his way just a little further down the corridor and stopping at a room that only just manages to fit a small desk, a filing cabinet and a battered looking floor lamp.

“Cosy” you say as you glance inside at the sorry looking ‘office’, worrying about the lack of natural light and how humid the air feels in your lungs. 

“Well, feel free to make yourself at home. There’s a pile of invoices that need checking there on the desk to get you started. If you need anything, just give me a shout, I’m always around somewhere.” With that, Ollie flashes you a sheepish smile before he turns on his heel and strides back the way you came. 

Slowly, you step into your new office, placing your bag on the desk next to the papers and looking around at the flaking paint on the walls. There’s dust covering every surface and the light in the corner seems to dim in brightness every now and again, as if it doesn’t have the strength to carry on lighting the endlessly dull room. 

There wasn’t a huge pile of work to look at, so you decide you have a bit of time to take a walk around the warehouse, to get the lay of the land. 

You start to make your way deeper into the belly of the building. There’s not much to look at, mostly barrels stacked on more barrels. Every now and again you come across a worker hidden in the dark, sweeping, lifting or moving trolleys back and forth.

Before long, you reach some large double doors. They’re open just a crack and you can faintly make out a shadowy figure sitting in the almost empty room. You move in closer to get a better look and reach out a delicate hand, placing it on the heavy wooden door and push it open with a soft creak. 

Finally, the hunched figure in the middle of the room comes into view, it’s Alfie, sat contemplatively in a rickety wooden chair, his large hands in his lap and his eyes closed. You falter for a second, wondering if you should just leave him to it, but just as you are about to turn and head back, he acknowledges your presence. 

“My little cousin was born blind...”     

The sound of his deep voice cutting through the silence makes you jump.

“As a result, I now donate a considerable sum of money to a charity, which gives dogs with eyes to blind Jews.” He shifts slightly in his chair making it squeak in protest under his hulking figure. 

“The chairman of the board recommends that those of us who were blessed with the gift of sight, spend at least half an hour a day with our eyes closed so that we may better understand the darkness, and also, to increase our donations and that.”

You inch closer, moving to stand directly in front of him. You can see his face clearly now, he’s actually quite handsome considering he first appears a bit rough around the edges. His beard is golden and neatly trimmed, with a thin white scar cutting through the right hand side of his face and his hair is uncombed and slicked down with sweat. 

There’s a faint smell of rum, fire and freshly baked bread coming off him in waves. It makes you feel unnervingly calm and starts to tease away the knots that had previously sat uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help but think about those exotic plants you’d read about, that draw their prey in with delicious smells, only to clamp down around them when they were close enough and swallow them whole.  

“What time is it?”

You snap out of your thoughts and glance around the room looking for a clock, but there was nothing but bricks and barrels. 

“I’ve no idea, I think it’s...” 

As you reply, you watch as his hand lightly pulls on a thin silver chain and a pocket watch pops out of the front flap of his waistcoat. He brushes his coarse fingertips lightly over the smooth steel of the antique trinket, before turning it to face the direction of your voice. 

“Ere you go, what time is it?”

You step a little closer and bend your head low to read the hands. 

“Twenty-five past nine” 

“Right, five minutes left. What can I help you with love? Are you lost? Did Ollie show you your little office?” 

You roll your eyes at Alfie’s description of your work space. The use of the word ‘little’ makes it sound like you are a child playing worker while the grown ups do the real work in the ‘big boy’ offices. 

“Actually I was just having a look around when I stumbled on your little meditation session” You make sure to stress the word ‘little’, passive aggression is your strong suit. He seems to ignore it and continue as though you’d said nothing at all and this just irks you even further.

“I think there’s another chair over there. Go have a look and take a seat.” 

You follow the direction of his flippant hand gesture and see the chair in question, propped up against the wall. Dragging it over screeching the legs on the concrete floor, you set it down a small distance in front of Alfie and take your place. 

“I like to make sure to spend these moments thinking about the bigger things… it also means I get a bit of peace and quiet from people asking me stupid fucking questions. Do you believe in god?”

The question seemed to come out of the blue and it takes you a second to process what he just said. 

“...No Mr Solomons, I don’t. It’s a hard concept to grasp when you’re involved in this kind of life, surrounded by these kinds of people.”

“Call me Alfie. Well I don’t blame you, but I’m telling you Y/N, believing in something bigger than yourself can be a saviour in the darkest of times. How long have I got left?”

You notice he doesn’t lift the watch up for you like the last time, the silver timepiece just sits loosely in his open palm lying on his lap. Hesitantly you reach forward and carefully lift the watch up to face you. He doesn’t flinch at your presence or the weight of the watch being lifted from his hand, as if he had hoped you would close the distance on your own terms.  

“Twenty-eight past nine, two minutes left.” You lean forward again placing the watch back where you found it, again he doesn’t move. 

“I never said I didn’t believe in something bigger than myself Mr Solom… Alfie, I just don’t like the idea that there is a man up in the clouds watching my every move. I like to be in control of my own decisions, of my own life and the direction I take it.” 

“Hmmm. How’d you end up ‘ere then? Did you make your own decisions this time around? How’s that workin out for you?”

He had you there, you in fact did not make the final decision to come here, it had been made for you… by a man who apparently had more control over your life than you had originally thought. Of course you couldn’t admit this to Alfie. 

“Actually I did make the decision to come here. I needed a change of scenery, so here I am. Is that a problem for you Mr Solomons?”

“Not at all love. But forgive me if I’m not entirely convinced of your exhilaration at being ‘ere with us. Look let’s stop fuckin about and address the elephant in the room, I don’t want to have to keep an eye on you every second you're here...” 

Alfie leans forward in his chair, his eyes still tightly shut, elbows resting on the dirty linen of his knees and clasping his hands in front of him, his many bracelets jangling together as he did. You didn’t feel yourself do it, but you realise you’ve started to lean back in your chair. 

“As a businessman, I get Tommy Shelby’s reasoning behind your presence here I really do, but as someone that is not an absolute fucking idiot, I am fully aware that this is not a place for a woman of your… standing.”

It was like he’d said a code word that set your blood boiling. You hated people telling you where you were and weren’t meant to be. It was like you were naive and had no idea the dangers that lay around every corner for someone like you. You were a woman that had been through a lot, been a part of many different societies and social classes. You were more than aware of what could happen if you took a wrong turn or said the wrong thing in front of these types of men. 

“Forgive me Alfie...” you stressed his name between gritted teeth.

“But I’m perfectly aware of the environment I find myself in. Thank you for your concern, but I don’t need you to watch me like a child.” 

You try to stay conscious of the tone and volume of your voice. It wouldn’t be a good idea to start cussing out your gangster boss on your first day. 

“Hmmm. What time is it?” This time he showed you the watch again as he leaned back in his chair, creating more distance between you and causing you to have to scootch forward on your seat to be able to see the time clearly. To your surprise, Alfie hands you the watch to hold.

“You’ve got 10, 9, 8...” 

As you count down, you notice the watch chain start to release tension. Alfie had started to move gradually towards you once again. You try to ignore the warmth of his body getting closer and closer. 

“7, 6, 5, 4...” 

He was so close now you can feel the light caress of his breath on your face. Your brain is telling you to move back a bit, but your body refuses to budge. 

“3,2,1”

Right on cue Alfie opens his dark blue eyes and you feel like your body has turned to stone right there in that chipped wooden chair.  

“Right then… hello”

[dopescotlandwarrior]

The Dancer-Chapter Nine

                    A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Nine

Claire’s dance was torturous and punishing as she released her sadness, fear, and loss to the music. Her aerials were dangerously high as she was seeking the quiet solitude of… Madu pulled her to a chair and held onto her while she fell apart again. He was terrified by what he saw her do and wondered if she intended to smack her head on the wood floor. He didn’t care if she wanted space and alone time. He would hear her scream at him, but he would not leave her.

John saw Jamie from across the store and jogged to him until he saw the rage on his face. So she had done it, and this was the result. He felt suddenly afraid for Claire.

Jamie followed him up the stairs to the office and stood in front of John like a menacing mountain.

“Tell me what ye know of it then. Leave nothin out. Why did she tell ye who she was?”

“She didn’t, in fact, she nearly had a meltdown when I told her I knew. I recognized her the night we had dinner at Omar’s and waited a couple weeks to try to understand what was going on. I asked her about it coming back from Lallybroch last Easter.”

John did not like the energy coming off Jamie and felt no desire to sympathize or placate him. Clearly, it had not gone well for Claire and his heart hurt for her, but Jamie, he could care less about at the moment. Whatever long term pain he endured would be his own doing.

“Did ye lie to me on her behalf?”

“No.”

“Did ye know she was moving in with me in Glasgow?”

“No.”

“How did ye have such a close relationship with her?”

“I didn’t Jamie. She was the kindest soul I had ever met but we didn’t confide in each other, never spent time socializing, except for Easter with you. She was very private and refused to speak about her relationship with you or her secret life. I tried a couple of times and she just didn’t answer.”

Jamie’s anger was collapsing, and he looked around like he didn’t know where he was, his whole body seemed to deflate.

“We had one conversation, on the ride home at Easter. She told me what she did to you, but I had to pull it out of her. She couldn’t cope with her own brutality and pushed it out of her mind.”

Jamie's face suddenly went back to rage as he prepared himself for another truth about this lying girl.

“She had done things to you when she still hated you for running her out of business. You and I both know there are ways of dealing with that situation that would have been much kinder. You opted for a different solution, get rid of the ugly bookstore by the fastest means possible. Yes, she hated you for it and she disgraced you by dancing in front of you and turning her back on you to bow to the rest of the audience, thereby shunning you. She said you tricked her into a coffee, and she didn’t hate you anymore, but the deed was done. She had laid the hurt on you so to speak and now didn’t know how to undo it.”

John watched Jamie’s face go from murderous to contemplative to baffled. He looked at John like he had not a clue this was going on.

“I told her you wouldn’t know that type of retribution even if someone pointed it out at the time. But to her, it was unforgivable and she was already in love with you.”

John spoke softly hoping his words would pierce his heart like a sharp sword. People like Jamie were used to playing the almighty with the lives he disrupted in the capacity of his job. A heartless existence that he fell back on when she was pouring her heart and soul out to him apparently.

“Tell me, when she told you what she had done were you thinking of her life, her heart, her reasons, or did you focus on your own?”

Jamie’s eyes bounced around the room like he was a caged tiger. John’s questions were upsetting him, and he could not face the answers he knew to be true. He felt worse and more confused than when he pulled into the bookstore, at the time believing he would hear more poison about her character. His head was spinning, and he launched from the couch where Claire had laid last winter when she passed out in his store. He left quickly, running down the stairs and out of the store. He sucked air into his lungs and felt tears coming. Tears he denied the night before when she was crumbling in front of him. What had he done to the woman he loved? He became the heartless businessman, a thick skin so natural after nine years of hurting people. As her truth, and tears came pouring out, he slipped into the man without a heart and abandoned her.

Jamie walked the streets of Edinburgh like a lost soul, finally his right mind was correctly attached to his heart. He replayed a mind video of Claire sparkling around his house, jumping on him when he came home, cooking all afternoon for his pleasure, becoming a goddess when he held her. When the real Claire finally came back to his judgment he started to hurt, really hurt, deep in his soul until he could hardly put one foot in front of the other.

Madu escorted Claire to the dressing room, looking away when she shot arrows out of her eyes at him. She felt the sting of tears when the normal smells of the restaurant brought her memory back. She sat on the couch and made a heroic effort to push back on the tears. She heard a voice. The voice of her best friend sounding sad and sorry. Claire looked up at Geillis standing in the corner, with her own tears shining in her eyes. Claire ran to her and the women cried together, Madu cried on the couch.

Geillis was the salve to Claire’s heartache and broken spirit. She coo’ed her sympathy and dabbed her eyes with a tissue, telling Claire she had a full and glorious life to look forward to. Geillis loved Claire like a sister and had feared this outcome from her confession to Jamie. It is why she stayed away so long, she couldn’t stand knowing what would happen to her friend. Now she had to help hold her together until she could start to heal and let Jamie’s memory fade.

On the other side of town, a car full of girls celebrating a bachelorette party came gunning for the restaurant. The girls were already high from whisky shots and a shared joint. They laughed hysterically and passed an advertisement for the world’s best belly dancer coming back from her time off. The girls did their best impression of a belly dancer and the car rocked with laughter. They were heading for the restaurant and a party sure to become legend.

Geillis helped Claire into her costume and gushed over how pretty she looked while Claire concentrated on pushing her tears back. Geillis sat with her on the couch and held onto her while Madu left for a bit. He took long strides through the streets, head down, hands stuffed into pockets. He felt like the world was ending because his world existed in the eyes of his dancer. He passed a big man on a sidewalk, head down, looking like he lost his best friend. That snapped Madu back to reality and he crossed the street to get back to Claire.

The pile of girls burst into the restaurant and Omar came running, recognizing the large number of girls who were here to spend money on a memorable night. One of the girls had become snarly and pissed off, telling the others how her brother had been hustled by the belly dancer here. The more she talked about it the madder she got. When the group was seated, Jenny got up and made her way to the door near the stage. She figured it was the dressing room and the bitch would be inside, counting her ill-gotten gains no doubt.

There was no knock, no warning of impending doom. When Jenny crashed through the door Claire looked up and nearly fainted.

“Claire? What the fuck is goin on, why are ye dressed like that? Why are ye cryin darlin?” Jenny looked around the room, looking for the belly dancer. There was no one else there, just Claire and some redhead. The truth started kicking her brain with a force that nearly laid her out. Eyes narrowed and she pointed at Claire as the memory of her broken brother filled her head. She lost it and closed the gap between her and the Jezebel in veils.

“It was you, ye dirty fuckin, lyin whore!”

Claire stood and tried to reason with Jenny until ruthless hands came out of nowhere and launched Claire into a makeup station. The force was so severe two of Claire’s ribs cracked in half, dangerously close to her lung. Geillis tried to pull Jenny away from her and was screaming at the top of her lungs as Jenny approached for another beat down.

Claire looked up into the eyes of her friend as closed fists were thrown at her face sending her to the floor. Every object within arm's length was bashed into the dancer’s head followed by severe kicks to the sides of her body driving the rib into her lung. Jenny stood up looking for something heavy and picked up a side table holding it over her head to bring down on Claire.

She was already unconscious. She did not feel the intensity of the blow that hit her face and brutally crushed her nose and eye orbitals. One lung was collapsed, and blood poured from every break in her perfect skin. Jenny stood to find another object and was pulled to the ground by her hair. A heavy knee pressed into her neck as Madu battled with the need to end her life. He could hear sirens coming and police were jerking him to his feet. The room was in chaos and the paramedics shoved everyone out as they worked to save Claire’s life. She was little more than a bloody pulp on the ground.

Outside, Jamie drove by the restaurant on his way out of town. In his exhaustion and depression, he didn’t look at the restaurant that had taken so much from him. He barreled toward Glasgow as Claire’s life slipped away.

The paramedics had to shock Claire three times before restoring sinus rhythm to her heart. They ran the gurney to their vehicle pushing a line into her arm, the phone to the hospital pressed against a head as doors crashed closed and the siren wailed. The ER team did their best to pull her back to the living as blood, urine, and other tests were run to the lab.

Madu and Geillis sat in the ER waiting room looking shell shocked. White faces and vacant eyes were stuck on the floor and tears fell freely every now and then as they remembered the beating and the blood. The police had questioned them at length once they were separated. They tried the usual tricks to scramble their minds as they rapidly barked questions, finally concluding they were both reporting the attempted murder of a dancer. Jenny was arrested but her buzz had worn off and her girlfriends had left without her. She wailed like a stuck pig demanding they call her brother and screaming it was self-defense.

Claire was wheeled into surgery an hour later to remove her ruptured spleen and when Geillis looked at her friend, she was unrecognizable. Several hours later the doctor approached Madu pulling off his mask and asked him for a word. The two men stood in the corner, heads bent, and Madu cried and shook his head no. Geillis thought her heart would stop as she watched him. She stood and waited for him to come back and deliver the news, whatever it was. Madu walked back to Geillis wiping his tears with his sleeve and taking a deep breath. He held Geillis’s hands and exhaled.

“We may lose beautiful dancer.” Madu broke down and Geillis held onto him fiercely telling him she would survive, she won’t die.

At three o’clock in the morning, an officer approached and sat next to Geillis. He spoke while looking at his notepad and asked Geillis several questions. He stated there were several death threats received at the restaurant after Claire was taken away. The owner signed his permission for the police to use their technology to identify the phone numbers that were hidden by the caller.

“Do ye know someone with the last name of Dunsany?”

“Yes.”

“What about Hawkins?”

“Yes.”

“Ye need to come to the station for a statement. It’s important to yer friend.”

Geillis asked Madu to stay with Claire and she has led away to a squad car.

Jenny screamed like a banshee from her cell all night long. She was promised a phone call when she stopped screaming but it didn’t stop her, and the phone call was withheld until well into the next day. The hospital staff asked Madu for the names of her family members and learned there were none. The administrator pumped him with questions to jog his memory of a brother or distant cousin to which Madu shook his head. Several hours later Madu was allowed to see her for five minutes. He almost fainted at the sight of her face swollen beyond recognition, but he dropped to his knees and whispered something in her ear, and this continued until he was escorted away.

The hospital staff hoped Madu would bring her out of the coma so she could start fighting for her life. They watched her closely after Madu’s visit and like the miracle they hoped for, her eyes opened several hours later.

Next Geillis could see her for five minutes and the two women cried and gripped each other until the nurses pulled Geillis away. Claire was inconsolable and was finally sedated.

A nurse spoke to Madu and Geillis asking them to go home and get some rest so they could be of help to her when she was stronger. They finally agreed and left the hospital with hollow eyes laced with fear.

Jamie slept fitfully in Glasgow. He had walked for hours finally returning to his truck long after the bookstore had closed. Knowing Claire was doing the dance of seduction at that very moment made his knees week and his heart pound. He had to get away from this city and his crumbling heart.

He saw her clothes and belongings all over his house and dropped into his bed once it was pitch dark and nothing left to see. Sometime during the night, he dreamed he was making love to the Sassenach, her face smiling up at him as she shattered. His eyes opened and he looked for her until he remembered, and his world fell apart anew.

The following day Jamie’s phone vibrated in his pocket during a meeting with the architect and a contractor who were at each other's throats. He ignored the call to play referee wishing they would both just disappear.

An hour later Jamie was hanging off a very high ladder feeling his phone vibrate as he inspected wiring laced through the metal slats that reinforced the walls on the second floor. He felt the phone vibrate and ignored it.

At eight o’clock that evening he was hunched over his blueprints after hours of unsuccessful focus, but he felt better here, protected from the reality of his life. He didn’t want to return to his home and see her clothes, or her handwritten notes making his heart hurt with her memory. His thoughts turned to John’s weird behavior at the bookstore the day before. He acted like Jamie was the enemy and brute that had hurt her deeply when he was the victim in this mess.

He reached for his vibrating phone and took his last breath in the sane world he had controlled his entire life.

She was screaming into the phone with what little voice she had left. Something went wrong at a party and one of the girls tried to kill her. She needed Jamie to come to Edinburgh and sort this out, get her out of jail. She was crying hysterically and Jamie ran out of his office to save his sister. He pushed his speed well beyond the legal limit and was in Edinburgh in forty minutes. He tried to post Jenny’s bail but was told she was held over to see the judge.

He asked to talk to someone in charge about his sister’s arrest. She had played the victim card on the phone and he was shaking mad they were keeping her. One of the responding officers pulled Jamie into a private room and calmly explained what she was arrested for. Jamie just stared at the officer like he didn’t believe him. The officer exhaled a long breath and pulled several Polaroids from a file pushing them toward Jamie.

Jamie looked at Claire’s face and body, beaten and bloody. His adam’s apple bounced in his throat as he tried to swallow, feeling the fear almost strangle him. He launched from his seat with the officer calling behind him, but he never heard a word he said.

The officer had seen enough to know this was a crime of passion. The girl would be charged with manslaughter and probably spend the next ten years in prison. Before he reported this to the chief, he called the hospital to warn them Jamie was coming.

Jamie jumped out of his truck at the entrance to the ER, motor running, door hanging open. When he crashed into the hospital looking wild-eyed asking for Claire two armed security guards flanked him and peacefully let the nurse tell him she was alive so far and he could not see her. Jamie went crazy and tried to claw his way to the patient rooms. He felt painful electricity hit his neck and his body collapsed long enough to be handcuffed and roughly set into a squad car.

On the other side of the world, a man’s voice greeted the caller in Arabic. His eyes went wide with alarm and he clutched the phone with both hands.

“Madu?”

The sobbing voice of his long-lost son hit his ears like a weeping sledgehammer as he consoled his beloved son and promised to fix whatever had befallen him. He waited for his son to gain control and speak to him about what was happening. The servants in the wealthy household alerted Madu’s mother something was terribly wrong, and she came running to her husband, wide-eyed and worried. “Madu, we are here loved son, we will help, tell me what has happened.”

His father could hear the sweet voice of his sister’s daughter, Kamilah, also lost to America for many years, He almost cried knowing he would tell his sister tonight that her daughter was alive, and she was with Madu.

Thirty minutes later his father hung up the phone and waited thirty seconds before barking orders to his staff to prepare for an emergency transport that would bring the children of the family home. He held his sobbing wife and told his assistant to order medical transport from America and report hourly. The staff jumped into action while Madu’s father led his wife to their bedroom where he would soothe her worry.

Madu collapsed after his father clicked off. He listened to the rushed questions from his cousin before turning his head to look at her, “you are coming too”, he said to her shocked face. Kamilah loved Claire, from the first day she stumbled into her studio asking for refuge from a group of bullies. She would do anything for her star performer and friend, except face her father.

The days passed, Jamie was tased and arrested again at the hospital, each time he was kept as long as the law allowed, three days in a cell pacing like a wild animal. Praying all night she would live to forgive him. When he walked into the hospital the third time, he was calm and fighting his impulse to crash into every door until he found her. His little Sassenach.

Jamie blinked at the nurse and asked again. Again he was told that Claire was gone. She had been taken out of the country for protection. That very nurse had flown with Claire to the airport by medical helicopter and watched over her until relieved by the doctor staffing the medical transport. The nurse squeezed her hand and wished her luck.

“She is gone Mister Fraser, never to return and afraid for her life. If you had something to do with Claire’s attack it will come out in court. God save ye then.”

Jamie looked at the fat nurse and wanted to shake her and tell her he could never hurt the Sassenach. But he had hurt her, twice he had wielded his power against her. She had reached out to him, sobbing and crumbling, and he walked away from her.

They should have been allowed the time to heal the wounds and come back together but his sister had seen to that. He drove back to Glasgow in a trance. The only thing he knew for sure is he would not be working on Jenny’s behalf. Let her rot in prison with no hope of a reunion with him.

The days turned to months and then to years. Claire haunted him, year after year. She spoke to him in his dreams and drifted through his mind during the days. He was never so sure, it was she who attached her soul to him. His soulmate, gone forever.

When Claire finally woke up from her medical coma the first person she saw was Madu. His presence calmed her, but her surroundings were screaming sirens in her head. She reached for him, “Madu”. Their eyes connected and he spoke about how he was able to get her out of Edinburgh. There were threats against her life, and he had taken her to safety.

“Where are we?”

“Egypt.”

Claire felt the ground come up to smack her in the face as she fainted against her pillows. Madu called to the in-house medical staff as Claire spun into the darkness that calmed her. She found loving hands there, to hold her close, a voice that promised love and protection. Eyes that beheld her like a treasure. She fell into Jamie’s arms and remained there for many days while the doctor tried to revive her.

Claire’s challenge was finding enough in her life without Jamie, to stay alive for. She couldn’t find anything that would make her tortured life worth living so she gave up, refused to wake or eat, making the doctor concerned for her life.

The first time she was pulled to consciousness, Madu sat on her bed and took her hands.

“By some miracle, your gift survives Claire. You must fight for that life, he or she is depending on you to fight.”

Claire stared dumbly at Madu trying to understand what he was saying.

“What?”

“It was the size of a pea when you were attacked, and survived against all odds.”

Claire’s eyes were wide and frightened. Her hand moved across her swollen abdomen and she freaked out.

“What the fuck Madu, what is this?”

It has been months you have hidden from the world, deep in sleep, but the baby grew. The doctor says you must get up, and walk, eat and drink. Please, Claire.

It was unthinkable to condemn this child to a life without parents, or a parent at least. The baby growing in her body gave her a purpose and a strong will to survive. It was a hard recovery, but she dug in and made the progress that everyone around her said was miraculous. She worked and she worked until her strength came back along with her reason to live.

Geillis reached for her phone hearing the airy sound of a caller far away. She dropped to the floor hearing Claire's voice and cried. It had been almost a year since they took her away and she feared the worst all this time. Claire cried with her and the girls tried to speak and catch each other up. Geillis knew she would never come back and it touched her that Claire would call.

Two years later, Geillis was living in Glasgow and ran to her ringing phone. She held it to her ear and smiled at the news of a growing boy and his loving mother. The women talked for twenty minutes and Geillis prayed she would not ask about Jamie Fraser. Geillis clicked off the call. Heartsick from missing her friend, relieved there were no questions about Jamie. He was getting married to Geneva Dunsany in two months. He worked in Germany, made a fortune, and was living large without Claire. Geillis would walk over fire not to tell her about his happiness.

Her phone rang again and Geillis answered before looking at the caller, it was Claire again.

“I couldn’t stop myself because I have to know. How is Jamie?”

Geillis clicked off, knowing she had delivered the death blow to her friend's broken heart. She prayed that Claire would find the strength to get through this. It was the second-worst day of her life.

Claire slept on the floor, next to her son’s bed for the next four months. Her grief wrapped around her throat first thing in the morning and hung on until she fell asleep. Her only break from the agony was when her wee son smiled at her with his sparkling blue eyes, just like his father. The pain and loss grew less painful as the months rolled on, but each year on his birthday she cried for a whole day.

Claire sat on the train, hearing her stop called out, she made her way to the door. She had been hired by a dance company in London and relocated one month before today. She was finally getting her feet under her and her confidence inched up daily. When the door opened, the crowd of people behind her pushed her out the door with enough energy to lay her flat on the smooth concrete. That hurt, she thought.

Big hands reached for her pulling her to her feet, “there ye are lass.”

She looked up at eyes so blue they took her breath away, the burr in his voice pulled her heart to his, waking her sleeping soul.

“Sassenach! Are ye alright?”

Jamie was in shock seeing her after so many years. The girl who would not leave his thoughts and dreams was standing right in front of him. They were frozen in time, staring at the face that was seared on their hearts. Claire suddenly came to her senses and quickly looked around, for a wife, who would take his arm and lay claim to him. She decided to live the rest of her days without that memory and broke away walking as fast as she could.

“I can keep up with ye easily Claire so ye might as well slow down, or give me that heavy bag yer carryin.”

Claire looked around again for a woman walking toward him. She took off again, telling Jamie over her shoulder it was nice to see him. She walked toward the exit, breathing hard from the effort. Looking back he was nowhere in sight. Guess the wife caught up to him. Coming out to the soggy day she felt relieved to have some natural reason for her wet cheeks. She squeezed her eyelids closed so she could focus and there he was, right in front of her.

[whatthefuuuuuuccckkkk]

okay this is my last post I know I'm being very annoying and I hate to clog the tag but I just have to scream into the void for a while if you disagree or you're annoyed with me please just scroll past this rant thank you

- the hitman plot. god. we all hate that shit. what I realllllly hate is how long and drawn out it is. should've been one episode tops, like when dean tried it. I want to say, that obviously it's not gonna work bcz it would be stupid to kill off the character carrying the entire show, but at this point maybe they are gonna kill him off??? idfk. maybe it's a punishment for all the people (everyone) who like him. truthfully the whole "murder is our only way out of this" attitude is disappointing and seemingly out of character for all of the girls. Boomer attacked annie and they let him fuckin live. They knew he was a fuckin rapist piece of shit, and a regular piece of shit too, but couldn't kill someone. But apparently killing someone beth, at one point, felt some typa way about...smh..apparently that is A ok and they don't even explore other options or feel the least bit guilty?? even when they "mourned" boomer it was more about marion than him. But rio and his whole ass innocent child are not a thought at all??? Wild. Truly. Also....what do they think will happen?? If I were a gang leader's right hand the first person I would check upon seeing my boss get murdered would probably be the person who tried to murder him last time lmao. Do they really think they would get away with it? Even if they didnt get caught, they wouldnt be off the hook. Surely mick would just keep things going, with even less leeway. And what happens when their illegal activities bite them in the ass when Rio is gone? Who are they gonna blame everything on? Who is gonna clean up their mess? No one. And this whole "I'm not doing it, wait yes I am, wait no I'm not, wait I'm gonna do it" thing the hitman is doing is...not it. I'm assuming were gonna get an explanation about how he knew that this was a crime of passion (lol)

-beth beth beth......you know there is a theory floating around that she has serious ptsd and I actually would love to see that explored but that shit ain't happening lol. I'm tired of feeling like I'm analyzing her character. At what point is it too much. She's hard to read but I think it has crossed the line over complex and ventured into poor characterization. She's gotten chances and chances and I'm tired. And dean. God I'm tired. I feel like all season I've been watching beth do the same thing, play good wifey, risk her (and Annie's and Ruby's) life by doing stupid shit..and that's basically it. Face some fckn consequences for your actions please. Take some responsibility. I feel like the show is showing us inklings of...something...bubbling underneath the surface but it's not our job to fill in the blanks or interpret shit. I do not work for nbc. I'm not getting paid for this. What is this girl thinking trying to get rio to invest in hot tubs (bless her calling dean an idiot. fuck this show for making him suddenly a good salesman) while trying to kill him. Does she think he dies and suddenly she owns it?? Makes zero sense. Also unpopular opinion i dont like that she caused a scene with the pool ball. Like....of course he isnt listening to you....you shot him...3 times....then stole from him....and have been screwing him over repeatedly.

-dean just....no. I understand that beth has so much going on in her life right now that divorce isn't exactly on her mind and dean is the last trace she has left of a normal life so shes holding onto it for dear life.....actually no. I do not know if any of that is actually true or if I'm just interpreting wrong. Because the subtext and editing and parallels and all that would be fine and dandy but not when that's all the show is at this point. If dean cheating yet again is not gonna make beth leave him, nothing will. I want his screentime to be 30 seconds and nothing more.

-im just not invested in the boland children. Annie and ruby have both struggled real bad, but beth, the one in the deepest, has 4 children who are somehow unaffected by this?? Not to mention the whole divorce, wait never mind, oh look a gang leader hanging out with mommy again, oh look our house is empty, type stuff happening. Beth's kids should be going through it but for some reason they arent? Maybe it's because child labor laws or something lol.

- rio. At this point I'm rooting for him for than anything. But I genuinely do not know why he hasnt killed beth. She's proven herself to be more of a liability than an asset and I just cannot understand why he hasnt killed her. Unless it's the whole "feelings" route, which wouldve made him look dumb, but made sense based on what we were given. This is actually the direction I thought the season was going but now it just seems like he is a bad businessman lol. Obviously she cant die for the sake of the show, but its like they didnt even try to make it make sense. He definitely knows about the hitman btw. I dont really blame him for anything he's done with beth so far. He robbed her in retaliation. He had to cut her off when she started acting shady. 🤷‍♀️ he let's her get away with too much tbh. It's a shame that this character isnt being utilized. Its like they are banking on this mysterious aura to keep working, but we are 3 seasons in and it's a little old now. I personally think that they just don't know what to do with him now. Also can I point out how dumb he looks showing beth that he is doing business at the carwash, why would he give her more information than she needs when he is suspicious of her? I cant tell if I was happy with how unphased he looked about her outburst or if I wish he checked her.

-mick. Did his side plot with beth die? How does it seem like this show simultaneously moves through plots every episode but is also stuck in the same one for the entire season? I also think mick is not being utilized. As funny as it is for him to be a built in 3rd wheel all the time, they could do so much more. Like can you imagine if beth mouthed off or fucked up and mick checked her? The possible ways a plot like that could go...untapped potential.

-ruby. Ah...I remember when I thought her and stan's fight was dragging for too long. Miss those days. See even tho ruby and stan seem to have the same issue over and over it's not the same story. Pen cap, new job, sarah stealing, all the same fight, but with different stories. And it really seems like Ruby's always going through it but I appreciate the variety. Stan's storyline has been interesting but I dont know how much it relates to the central plot. Sarah....great. that actress is so talented and even tho shes an attitude machine (what preteen is not) i just love her scenes. Harry seems to be missing a lot. The hills are the only part I seem to enjoy anymore. Really wish the show would explore why ruby seems to be the one who keeps getting caught up with the law...I wonder what it could be....what is different about her..hm...

- annie. Backtracked so much. Wish she had a single plot that didnt revolve around men. Now shes trying to cheat on her GED. Where's the snark? Where's the wit? It seems like all she is now is a codependent insecure mess. And I'm tired of this fuckass therapist. I thought her study montage was gonna end in a "she didnt need anyone but family (:" lesson but it did not for whatever reason. I thought by bringing a therapist into the show it was gonna give us more of a look at Annie's and Beth's upbringing and relationship. Or help annie work through her issues, the boomer thing too. Or maybe lead to Beth's ptsd diagnosis. Therapy could've helped move the plot forward or help the characters grow, but it's doing the opposite of that. If its not contributing to the main plot, what is its purpose? To give annie yet another terrible love interest?

To summarize....I hate it here.

[vampirewalterskinner]

@klimtsmistake hope you love it!

Salope and Branleur

The alcohol soaking his tongue was achingly sweet, the taste turning bitter as his body struggled to filter the acidic beverage for nutrients. There weren’t any. Alcohol in general wasn’t constructed to provide nutrition. Drinking such a thing—no matter what had been added to it or how watered down it was—was designed to tear down and destroy the body. Bring upon the consumer a flighty high and numbness. Normally, Uryū wasn’t one for drinking. He had a glass of wine here and there, but they were so few and far in between that they rarely counted and he never exceeded a single glass. Today, however, merited a strong beverage.

Practice shows always put the designer on edge. It was one headache after another. He knew to expect last minute alterations to clothing and that models—no matter how seasoned—could still stumble and risk breaking their necks while trying out heels they hadn’t worn before. Jewelry was always missing. Make up artists struggled to sooth the frayed nerves of new models just so they could finish their work. It was an endless train of disaster and Uryū despised it every time. Unfortunately it was a necessary evil. If they didn’t perfect their show now there would be chaos on the runway. While Uryū did want his designs to be discussed, he didn’t want them to be a side note in rich snobs’ gossip or pictured on the front page of a newspaper for the wrong reasons.

Right on schedule a hysterical assistant started screeching in panic as she searched for a priceless necklace gone missing, the ruckus causing everyone to grow tense. Uryū sighed heavily through his nose and took another swig of his drink. He had no fucking clue what was in this drink but at the moment he couldn’t care less. He just needed to get a little tipsy and relax—otherwise there would soon be a lot of well dressed dead bodies in the room.

“Oi! Salope! Don’cha do any work around here?”

Fuck.

Uryū’s brow twitched as his throbbing headache suddenly split his brain in two with a violent bolt of anger. Of all things in the world that he needed, this bastard was not one of them.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, a new model who he had mistakenly hired a month ago, sauntered towards him with a broad grin stretched across his face. Uryū hated that smile. There was no sincere emotion behind it. The smile was there for intimidation and irritation and he used it as a weapon. In fact everything about this man screamed predator. The best comparison Uryū had was that of a panther. He was gorgeous—his eyes a breathtaking shade of blue, emphasized by wild teal tattoos and pale skin glowing with a golden hue, high cheekbones and a sharp jaw with perfect teeth to compliment his natural beauty. He was graceful—his startlingly tall body bound with thick muscle that was used efficiently and turned every movement he made into an art form. He was elegant—his makeup as flawless and pristine as his choice in clothing, creating ensembles that even Uryū would be proud to showcase. The man was a living, breathing aesthetic. However, Grimmjow was also cruel and malicious. His narcissistic ego made him to believe that he was the gift from the gods—actually he was worse than that. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez believed himself to be a deity. Possibly the deity. He treated everyone around him as lesser beings and even refused to let anyone besides himself do his makeup. Granted his work was amazing—sometimes even unparalleled—but it was still beyond rude for him to mock and spit insults in the face of other professionals. At least the nice ones Uryū employed. Only a month with the Frenchman’s presence and Uryū has received twelve resignation letters. Beautiful or not, the man was a demon.

“What are you doing here, Jaegerjaquez? And stop calling me that word,” Uryū demanded as his grip tightened on his glass.

Grimmjow’s grin shrank down to a lazy smirk as he stood before the designer and pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “You don’t even know what it means, salope,” he teased.

“If it is coming from you then I know it isn’t flattering. Now answer my question, what are you doing here?” Uryū repeated, his nails scratching the smooth glass in his grasp.

“Thought this shit was mandatory?” Grimmjow scoffed as his smirk dropped, all amusement gone from his voice. The model had the quickest temper Uryū had ever seen, and that’s saying something when considering a certain someone.

“Yes. It is mandatory. Which is why I asked why you are here. You never show up to anything mandatory. Much less a runway practice. You refuse to model in anything besides a photoshoot and I won’t allow you to do anyone’s makeup because you insult everyone just for existing.”

If he weren’t under contract Uryū would have fired his ass on day one.

“Runways are boring as fuck and it’s not my fault they all bitch, complain, and squirm when I’m trying to make their face look remotely human,” Grimmjow retorted with a snort.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Uryū said. He was growing tired of this.

The model’s eyes narrowed at his insistent ribbing, but the hostile glare soon changed to a mean smirk. “This shit is comedy gold, man. Have you seen these clowns? Half the models have no fucking clue what they’re doing and at least 90% of the clothes seen on a runway are hideous.”

Uryū frowned. “So you came here just to mock others for putting effort into their work?”

“No. I came to mock others for offending my eyes with their ridiculous attempts at playing god and kickstarting a dud of a Renaissance. I’ve seen better excuses of art from kindergarteners,” Grimmjow scoffed.

“Well, you are French,” Uryū offered with another sip of his drink. This goddamn awful drink had to be strong for him to even attempt making a joke.

Although the slightly pained, deadpan stare on the model’s face was highly amusing.

“I dunno how you pulled that stick outta yer ass but you need to shove it back in because that joke wasn’t even slightly clever,” the man replied dryly.

“Says the man who is only here to mock young artists. If you’re going to stay at least sit down so I can continue surveillance. Also, grab a drink while you’re up. You need something to keep your mouth busy,” Uryū ordered with a wave of his hand.

That infamous grin was back. “Never pegged you to be so direct, salope. Aren’t you supposed to take me out and flash what’s inside your fat wallet before you tell me to get on my knees?”

“I doubt you’re the type of man that would resist bending over if the opportunity presented itself to you,” Uryū said cooly.

Grimmjow looked mildly surprised by the sharp comeback, but the sadistic grin upon his lips only widened. “Y’know, you’re almost tolerable when you stop hiding behind that businessman facade.”

“It’s only because I’m speaking the same ape dialect you are. Now sit down or leave, and if you stay please get a drink. Your voice is grating on my nerves.”

A snicker squeezed through perfect, deadly white teeth as Grimmjow opened his jacket and removed a silver flask from a hidden inner pocket. “I’ll stick to my own poison. Yours looks like it came from the bladder of a unicorn.”

Uryū wrinkled his nose at the description. He hated that Grimmjow was right.

When he had begrudgingly invited Grimmjow to sit down he had expected the man to sit a few seats away, or even behind him just to pester the designer, but instead the model chose to sit right beside him on a cushioned fold out chair. Right beside him. A black, jean clad thigh pressed against a much thinner and far less impressive thigh, which caused Uryū’s breath to hitch as his fingers threatened to shatter the glass in his hand. Why was Jaegerjaquez sitting so close? Was this how seating was going to be on the big day? He needed to speak to Yoruichi about this. This was far too friendly of a seating arrangement. Grimmjow was practically in his lap. Uryū forced his eyes away from those overwhelmingly muscular thighs and glanced at the model. Grimmjow’s intense eyes were glued to the stage and the frantic workers dancing upon it as he took a deep gulp from his flask, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and a pink tongue running across alcohol stained lips. Despite all of his obvious shortcomings, Jaegerjaquez was still a mystery to him. In fact, no one really knew anything about him at all. He was beyond efficient in his job. Uryū had never seen the man take a bad photo, not even once, which is a wild phenomenon that many insistent involved witchcraft and deals with demons and devils. He was a total asshole but outlandishly professional when it came to his job. He acted like he had the biggest dick in the world but never used that confidence to flirt with anyone on staff. Grimmjow was an odd one. He always seemed to do the exact opposite of what others expected of him.

It made him interesting, to say in the least.

“Holy shit look at that train wreck!” Grimmjow said excitedly, momentarily choking on his drink as he snickered and leaned in.

And by leaned in Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez leaned towards Uryū and draped his arm over the back of the designer’s chair. Uryū jolted at the foreign feeling of a muscular and warm arm pressing against his back, his heart stuttering when Grimmjow’s face hovered beside his, their cheeks moments away from touching while Grimmjow’s cruel finger stabbed at the air as he sneered.

“That’s one fuckin’ hot mess—and not in the fun, daddy issues kind of way. You have to agree with me on that,” Grimmjow said.

Dear lord this man smelled amazing. Uryū had never realized that Jaegerjaquez even wore cologne. Most people drowned their bodies in the stuff but he wore such a faint amount that it was only noticed at a close proximity. Uryū could easily imagine how the model used that technique to ensnare unsuspecting morons who dared to get that close to someone so obviously dangerous. A euphoric scent that overwhelmed the senses when one fell into his embrace, automatically linking him to a positive and desired emotion. It was genius. Possibly even diabolical depending on how and where he used it.

“What are you talking about?” Uryū grumbled, trying to clear his mind by holding his breath.

“What am I—are you shitting me, Ishida? Look at that garbage! How could you allow something like that to appear on your show!” Grimmjow sputtered as he gestured ludicrously at the disaster currently struggling to walk across the runway without tripping over the intricate designs of the dress.

Uryū blinked as he slowly digested the outfit stabbing him in the eyes. The fabric was rough and its life expectantly, the material wore down far too easily. The colors were flat and lifeless; a wonderful rainbow of boring. The shape and design of the dress itself...it really didn’t have one. It looked like the model was encased in a slimy blob of goo. It was horrific.

A muffled snicker squeezed past Uryū’s lips as a faint smile graced his. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty damn bad. You know I don’t screen all of their works, right? I can’t exactly tell them what they can and cannot show.”

“These people pride themselves on being designers. You’d think these dumbasses would screen their own work! That’s got to be the ugliest dress I have ever seen and that’s a lot coming from me,” Grimmjow said with a shake of his head and another drink from his flask.

The model retreated to a safe enough distance that Uryū felt he could breath once again, but Grimmjow’s arm never moved. Nor did his thigh. A smirk twisted Uryū’s lips as he used his glass to gesture at the additional models joining the stage. “Don’t judge too soon. That dress has contenders.”

Uryū tried his damnedest to refrain from laughing when he watched the five stages of grief roll across the man’s face. Although the model never did reach acceptance.

“What the fuck is going on in that guy’s head? He has to be kidding! Those colors don’t match at all! Was his goal to make the audience hate him? If it was then his plan is going well,” Grimmjow huffed.

“You’re ranting a lot for a guy who claimed this is a source of comedic relief for you,” Uryū said, grinning as he finished off his drink.

“There’s a difference between being a shitty artist and insulting what we do for a living. That guy is an embarrassment to the profession. Why the hell did you let this guy in on your gig? Humiliation?” Grimmjow asked.

“I’m not that cruel, Jaegerjaquez,” Uryū said with a roll of his eyes, “A lot of these designers have potential. They merely lack in experience. I’ve seen some of his other designs. He has passion for what we do and within a few years he’ll be fairly accomplished in our field.”

“He just has to be humiliated first,” Grimmjow reiterated will a dull, unimpressed look.

It was Uryū’s turn to grin like a maniac. “It’s the only way some of them learn. Normally I’m kinder, but that kid has an attitude and an ego far larger than it should be. I don’t cater to spoiled brats.”

Grimmjow mirrored his smirk. “Harsh. I like it.”

Uryū smiled sincerely before groaning when his eyes returned to the terror unfolding before them. “Don’t look now. Somehow it got worse.”

Ignoring his words Grimmjow turned his gaze back to the models and stomped his foot in anger. “Oh come on! It looks like you wiped your ass with that! What the fuck are you doing!” Grimmjow bellowed.

Uryū snickered, watching as Grimmjow’s insults grew louder and cruder while struggling not to burst out laughing. He usually had a good hold on his tongue and was polite to most of the people he met. Grimmjow was different. The exact opposite of the designer. Jaegerjaquez had no filter and no shame in his words or actions and did as he pleased. While it was frustrating on a workplace level, it was entertaining as hell when personal. Before long the two were caught in a fit of laughter: Grimmjow’s a hissing cackle and Uryū’s a strangled attempt at being quiet and polite.

“What a fucking idiot,” Grimmjow snorted as he settled back in his chair.

The brute sat with his legs spread far apart, taking up more room than he needed with his arm still invading Uryū’s personal space. It was beyond rude, but oddly charming. If anything Grimmjow seemed to be aloof to his actions. Almost as if he had no clue that his actions inconvenienced others. Lacking consciousness of the impact his body held on others. Uryū’s nose wrinkled. Okay, he wasn’t so aloof that he didn’t know how good he looked. Grimmjow boasted that he was easily the best looking model Uryū employed. Year round employees, certainly. However, when special hires were included he would always come in second place to him.

Uryū frowned and licked his dry lips. His throat was suddenly parched. He needed another drink.

“Thank the heavens your designs aren’t from the bowls of my nightmares. You actually have artistic taste,” Grimmjow remarked as he finished off his flask and slipped it back into his jacket.

Uryū blinked in surprise. “Did...did you just compliment me?”

A confused look crunched Grimmjow’s sharp features. “The hell are you talking about?”

“You said I have artistic taste. You like my designs?” he asked in bewilderment.

“What the fuck are you on? Of course I like your designs. That goes without saying,” the model said, his confusion and temper beginning to mix.

“Uh, no, it definitely needs to be said. You don’t like anything but yourself. You’ve never said anything about my clothes before. What makes you think that I knew?”

“I’m working for you, aren’t I?” Grimmjow snapped.

Uryū blinked again. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Suddenly, the Frenchman’s face was both very tired and very cold. “Are you shitting me, salope? You seriously think that I would work for someone who makes shitty clothes? I won’t work for anyone who creates shit I wouldn’t be caught dead with. Unlike what people think I actually take all of this seriously. You’re one of the few who actually puts heart into your work and it shows and I respect that. Posers like them piss me off. It spits in the face of what we do—it’s practically sacrilegious. Do you know how rare people like you are? You have passion. It’s not a way for you to make money, it’s a way of life. Why do you think I decided to move overseas? You were the only person worth modeling for.”

Was this moment real? Were these wonderful compliments actually pouring from Grimmjow’s beautiful lips, or had the alcohol taken over his soul and sanity? Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was complimenting him. He was praising Uryū’s work. He respected the designer’s work. Why did hearing such words make him feel so dizzy? He could blame the dizziness in his mind on the alcohol...but his heart was a whole nother story.

Uryū now remembered why he hired the man in the first place. Jaegerjaquez’s agent wasn’t a slacker by any means. Nelliel was an amazing agent who could sell anything to anyone. She lied so easily about her clients, but she never lied about their beauty. She knew Grimmjow’s selling points and exploited them insistently to make him stand out. Tall, muscular, and beautiful models were a dime a dozen. Conventional beauty was easily replicated and dull. Normally someone like Grimmjow wouldn’t even stand out to Uryū, but Nelliel knew just the buttons to press to open that door. An Adonis Grimmjow may be, but the man wasn’t a carbon copy doll made of cheap plastic. Many models avoided inking their skin due to difficulties presented in photoshoots, but Grimmjow’s body was swallowed in them. Sleeves engulfing his arms and prominent chest. Foreign words scrawled along the sharp V of his pelvis and inner thighs. An array of panthers ranging from mountain lions to tigers to smaller feral cats stamped upon his upper back and guarding his broad shoulders. The trademark teal tattoos below those cyan eyes supported by the frightening panther jaw etched into his right cheek. His piercings extended well past his ears to various parts of his body; his face, his chest, his stomach, and places he had only seen the outline of. Then there was his hair. Aside from the marks under his eyes, Grimmjow’s hair was notorious for being a vibrant shade of blue that married perfectly with his intense eyes. No one knew the natural color but discovering the truth was impossible when the man’s whole body was hairless and primped to the point of being spoiled. It was the quirks that had caught Uryū’s interest. By reputation he was known to have models of all sizes, shapes, backgrounds and ethnicities and he despised limiting his clothes to only those with a figure like his. Everyone deserves to look and feel good about themselves and Uryū would be damned if his clothes were used to state otherwise. He had hired Grimmjow just from seeing his pictures. He knew nothing about the man’s personally. Their first meeting hadn’t gone well; all clashing egos and pride suffocating their lungs. Now...now Uryū wasn’t so sure about his opinion on the model.

It was possible that he had thought wrongly about Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

“Holy fuck,” Grimmjow purred, a sleezy grin stretching his pretty face when he pulled his arm away from Uryū and licked his lips, “Now that is a masterpiece. Why’s something that priceless walkin’ around here without security? That’s hella dangerous.”

Uryū’s brow furrowed. “What are you-,” the designer’s breath became trapped in his throat.

As always all eyes were glued onto his lean body. Each set of irises silently praising the angelic man in their presence. Uryū swears those skinny jeans become tighter every time he sees his old friend. Not to mention v-neck shirts he wears look as if they should be illegal. Soft, freckled skin a warm, sunkissed hue. Those gorgeous and inviting androgynous features. His blonde hair that rare vibrant orange—so bright that it seemed he was the offspring of a sun god--framing his face and falling in front of those eyes. Those vivacious cinnamon brown eyes drizzled with honey and a collection of small golden stars laid within like cubes of sugar in the sweetest tea. The most beautiful man Uryū temporarily employed.

Ichigo Kurosaki.

Swallowing dryly, heart drumming a panicked beat, Uryū began to nervously pick at his nails when he found himself unable to look away. Especially when that heaven sent man smiled at him, purposely trying to kill him. Was it always going to be like this? Unable to exist with him and unable to exist without him? It had only been two months since Kurosaki left for New Zealand to finish filming the latest movie he starred in. Why did it feel like years? Why was he so pathetic? When was Ichigo going to stop letting his hair grow out because it was sickening to watch something so perfect become even more perfect, could Uryū even handle another inch?

He hated himself for falling in love with his best friend.

“He ain’t got a collar,” Grimmjow chuckled, his voice heated and enthralled and his eyes glowing with hunger, as he pressed his thumb against this naked ring finger to explain what he was speaking of, “It means he’s up for grabs.”

Up for grabs…

Uryū’s stomach twisted violently as his heart released a pained wail. Grimmjow wanted Ichigo. Of course he would want Ichigo. There wasn’t a person on this planet who didn’t—even sexual identities didn’t hold up against Kurosaki. Goddamnit. Grimmjow was just Ichigo’s type, too. Tall and outrageously beautiful—covered in tattoos and piercings and lethally dangerous. An asshole that was undoubtedly amazing in bed and sure to leave bruises in his skin. Uryū couldn’t even begin to compare to either of them. For fuck’s sake, they even had the complementary colors and fire versus ice cliches going for them.

He needed another drink.

“Hey, Uryū. How’ve you been, man?” Ichigo asked, stopping a foot shy of Uryū’s chair as he tucked bangs behind his ear and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his red wine inked jeans.

Shit. Ichigo had piercings. Small gauges in each lobe to be precise. He must have gotten them done while he was away. He always wanted to get them done. The looked better than Uryū expected, and he expected them to look good. Everything Ichigo wore tended to do that.

“I-Ichigo…you’re back,” Uryū’s soft face twisted into a rough frown, “You were supposed to call me when you were on your way home and when you landed. I was going to pick you up.”

Ichigo’s smile became uneasy and nervous as he shrugged in return. “Sorry, Yū. I didn’t want to bother you so I drove here on my own.”

“We’ve been friends since birth. You bothering me is part of my daily routine,” Uryū replied sarcastically.

“Okay, yeah, that’s true,” Ichigo chuckled, a hand snaking free from his jeans to rub the back of his neck.

His scowl softened. Ichigo returns and the first thing he does is berate him like a parent. He really had issues.

“Ichigo? My Japanese may be a bit rusty, but doesn’t that mean strawberry?”

That age old scowl Uryū hadn’t seen since high school marred Ichigo’s face as he turned his attention to Grimmjow with a haughty look in his eyes. “And you are?”

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I’m--.”

“A model.”

Grimmjow looked surprised, Uryū had a hard time keeping the smirk off his face as smug pride welled in his chest. Despite his appearance Ichigo was not someone to fuck with. No matter how angry or dangerous Grimmjow thought himself to be he would never reach Ichigo’s level. His friend had to go through hell and back just to wear a smile without feeling guilty and ashamed for being happy. Uryū had seen his darkest years. He remembered how those faint scars on his knuckles appeared on his skin. Whatever chance the model had before no longer existed.

Grimmjow regained his composure and smirked, leaning back in his seat as if presenting his whole body to Ichigo. “So you know of me?”

“Know of you? Not necessarily. I only know who you are because all you models are the same. Choking on your own egos and failing to impress me with your status,” Ichigo said with a dismissive, dramatic wave of his hand.

“Impress you? Please. I don’t need you to be impressed to have you choking on my ego, so to speak,” Grimmjow scoffed as he crossed one leg over the other.

The corners of Ichigo’s lips twitched and Uryū’s heart plummeted.

“You’re a foreigner, aren’t you?” Ichigo asked.

“What tipped you off? The European complexion or the two foot height disparity?” Grimmjow said, his face expressionless once more.

“You’re accent, actually. French, right?”

Life brightened Grimmjow’s face and Ichigo smiled softly in response. Uryū chewed the inside of his cheek as his manicured nails started to tear.

“Pantera. That’s the name you go by, right? I’ve seen your work before when I last traveled to France. You were pretty popular there. I swear your face was plastered on every fashion magazine in town,” the blonde continued, “I recognized the tattoos under your eyes.”

“If you knew who I was, why’d you ask?” Grimmjow asked with a quirked brow.

Uryū hadn’t seen that mischievous smirk in ages. He couldn’t believe he missed it. That smirk only spelled trouble.

“I just wanted to watch you squirm.”

Now they were both grinning like they had swallowed hangers. Where was there more alcohol because Uryū could really use that right now.

“Fuckin’ bastard. Alright, you know who I am, but I have no idea who the fuck you are,” Grimmjow said as his body relaxed further into his seat, “Am I supposed to?”

Yes; Uryū thought bitterly. Everyone knew who Ichigo was.

“Not really. It’s not like I’m anyone important.”

Uryū nearly rolled his eyes right out of his skull.

“Name’s Ichigo Kurosaki. I’m an actor. Sometimes I dabble in screenwriting and directing.”

Dabble. Uryū wouldn’t call Japan’s top three best selling and heavily awarded films something Ichigo dabbled in. That was like Leonardo Da Vinci claiming his work to be a mere doodle.

“An actor? One of those drama queens, eh?” Grimmjow teased.

“Hardly. At least on a personal level,” Ichigo admitted.

That was a lie. Kurosaki wasn’t dramatic, but the shit that surrounded his life sure was. For instance, his best friend being in love with him and the best friend’s nemesis loving the same guy. This was getting a little too Wuthering Heights for Uryū’s taste.

“You been in anything good?”

That tone...where was Jaegerjaquez going with this?

“There were a few that bombed but most of them did fairly well.”

A sly grin split Grimmjow’s face in two. “You been naked in any of these movies?”

Ichigo was caught off guard by the question, evident by the blush that quickly consumed his cheeks as he sputtered for an answer.

“Jaegerjaquez, that’s enough!” Uryū spat, glaring at the model beside him, “Either you shut your loud mouth and stop with the inappropriate comments or you leave. There’s no reason for you to be here anyways.”

Grimmjow glanced between the two of them unimpressed. “Fraise looks older than eighteen. I think he can handle a few big boy questions.”

“It’s still wrong to ask complete strangers questions like that!” Uryū snapped.

“Uryū, it’s okay, man. I mean, he’s right. I’m twenty-five, I’m not completely foreign to nudity or sexual topics,” Ichigo coughed to clear his throat before he met Grimmjow’s eyes, “Um, yeah, there are a few. None of them were full on nudity, but some of them were more explicit than others due to sexual context. Why do you want to know?”

Uryū really hated the model’s smile.

“I’m gonna need the names of those movies. Especially the ones with sexual content. I think I should watch those first,” Grimmjow said.

“Jaegerjaquez, out. Now,” Uryū ordered, snarling the man’s name through his teeth.

The model only regarded him with a glance and snorted, the smile on his face sleazy as he slowly climbed to his feet and stood at his full height. He was so much taller than him. Uryū hated men taller than him—Ichigo being the only exception.

“You’re alway so serious, salope. And here I was thinking you might actually be fun,” Grimmjow sighed as he started to walk away, “Designers are always such a tense, grouchy bunch.”

Suddenly Grimmjow came to a stop just behind Ichigo and spun around, snaking his arms around Ichigo’s small waist and placing his lips at Ichigo’s ear while his sharp eyes stared at Uryū pointedly.

“I need those names, fraise,” the man murmured, lips brushing against the sensitive skin on a pierced lobe, grinning maliciously at the enraged glare on Uryū’s face.

Still blushing and oblivious to the territorial battle taking place, Ichigo gave Grimmjow a cocky grin and replied, “You’ve gotta put some work into this, Jaegerjaquez. I’ve been in thirteen movies. You might wanna get to work.”

Grimmjow chuckled, his large hands consuming Ichigo’s stomach and teasing the blonde’s shapely hips. “You better not be a disappointment, fraise. I don’t like wasting my time.”

“We just met, but you and I both know that of all things I could be a disappointment is not one of them,” Ichigo chortled.

Ichigo was flirting back.

Ichigo never flirted with anyone.

It was official. Uryū despised this man with every fiber of his being.

Grimmjow hummed in agreement, his teeth grazing the sore flesh of Ichigo’s earlobe, smiling when Ichigo released an unwanted whimper that caused his blush to darken. Slowly, the model’s hands retreated as he took a step back and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “See you tomorrow, salope. And I’ll be seeing you tonight, fraise,” he said with a cocky snicker and walked away.

Ichigo and Uryū both watched the man leave, one looking slightly lost while the other envisioned throttling a pale neck.

“He’s...something,” Ichigo admitted as he brushed his fingers over his ear.

“He’s a jackass,” Uryū grumbled.

“Yeah...but it kinda makes him interesting.”

Jaegerjaquez better stay far away from him for a while.

Otherwise Uryū couldn’t promise that his vast selection of sewing needles won’t end up poking many, many holes into tattooed skin.

[narciso-anasui]

You know the drill: let’s talk no time for fairy tales.

How fucking terrifying is it that Kira was so far ahead of the game not even Jotaro had any idea? On a recent rewatch of DiU, it really struck me that Yukako Yamagishi Dreams of Cinderella is the arc right before Sheer Heart Attack, and both of those are such high stakes, emotionally-draining arcs for Koichi. You fall in love and almost die and a murderer played to you and your friends’ good hearts to escape, and you can’t tell your parents a damn thing. That’s the emotional crux of what I wanted to explore, especially as I try to tackle all of that from Yukako’s point of view.

Yukako has been my favorite character since day 1, but I’ve always had a case of the nerves when it comes to writing her. I see a lot of my bad qualities in her, but I think that’s part of why I like her. I dunno. I get hopeful when I recognize things in other characters that resonate with me, and then see them struggle but become better for it. Sadly, I think that’s a part of Yukako and Yukako/Koichi that often gets overlooked, mostly for lack of having a final act to close them out.

This is an attempt to write that final act as much as it is an attempt to parse out the very strange inconsistencies of the Stand Cinderella. I talked about it at length here, and a lot of these thoughts are crucial to understanding how the hell I went about making this make sense, but the tl;dr is that Aya Tsuji is a well-meaning scammer. Glass slippers and lipstick have a placebo effect, and the real meaning is that relationships are hard work, and sometimes you have to open your eyes and realize you made a mistake.

Minoru Takahashi is based off this NPC from both the manga and anime, and ended up being a fun little insert to write. I almost, almost called her Minoru Kobayashi until I realized there was a Kobayashi in DiU already. I considered just keeping it anyway, but I also didn’t want to have it distract anyone. Still, maybe they’re siblings?

Yukako’s family is something I have my own thoughts and personal headcanons on, but only two of which were actually relevant to this fic. Her grandfather was someone I didn’t actually mean to appear so much after the first scene, but it felt... weird not having someone in the house with her. Needless to say, they don’t have the best relationship.

Also, it’s kind of hard to ignore the fact that Yukako just happened to choose that summer house no one was in and somehow got into it... it lines up nicely thinking that it belongs to her family, especially since she knows her way around quite well. Having her refer to presumably her father as “some businessman” just brings the whole thing back to an impartial, sad mess that maybe I’ll consider touching on if I ever come back to Yukako.

Which won’t be for a while, because. Oof. This was the hardest fic I’ve written so far, considering it’s been in WIP hell since February. It’s hard to talk about grieving for someone whom you have very complicated feelings about, both in general and speaking from personal experience.

The ‘mums are white chrysanthemums. I genuinely have no idea why I called them mums other than I just hate trying to type the full name. For whatever reason I had a hell of a time deciding between Angelo or Anjuro Rock.

No fancy song reference this time. Most of the time I just pull names out of my ass and they’re called something like “anasui fuckin dies.jpeg” in google docs until I come up with a real name and then re-title the doc.

Thanks for sticking around! Next time I swear I’ll write something lighter.

[yukithesnowman314]

Anime Central - Day 0

Ahh Anime Central.  Chicago’s ultimate otaku convention for partying and debauchery.  It’s a great convention to find hard drugs like coke and acid. There’s alcoholic beverages flowing  about. Take a few shots for liquor courage to dick down  that Cecilia cosplayer. Hey, Gotta celebrate Fire Emblem Gaiden’s  3DS remake somehow. There are also Persona orgies hosted by a kinky Shadow Rise cosplayer hunting guy to run a train on her.   ACEN has the great shit for ya if you want it.

Oh yea, they have cosplaying nerds who ain’t fuckin each other in orgies and industry panels. That shit is boring. As an (somewhat) honest person, I’m gonna tell you what really goes down outside the panels and normal convention shit.  Autograph and photo sessions? Pfft. I rather waste time on my grind, writing passion, and networks. Why? So the anime and video game industry can notice my hardwork. I want to become lifelong friends with the niggas you stand in line for hours just to talk to them for twenty seconds out of your life.

Look, fuck all that lame boring shit that the average con attendees will tell.  I’m here to too you the  the real grimy shit.  You can trust me on keeping it real. I’m a real nigga. Let’s start.

Me and my friend “Adrian” (name changed because I’m the star and he’s not) arrived in Chicago at 2:00pm Thursday afternoon after a long 10 hour trip from St. Louis via Amtrak. You see, Amtrak was running a special deal. Riders will have to suffer through delays and constant route changes with no explanations!

Something about a fatal train derailment was thrown in, but we didn’t get that option.     Oh well.  Public transit is better than Amtrak. You don’t get that fine Chicago-style  piss smell on the Amtrak unlike Chicago’s CTA public transit.   CTA ride was nice, sans some homeless diabetic begging money for heroine.  Or was it insulin?  I dunno I don’t do (hard) drugs, and I’m not hip on the new and upcoming drug trends.

Following that  45 minute ride, we arrived at Rosemont, Il! Home of Anime Central.  Yes!  Finally I can make my grand announcement to my haters that the guy they secretly want to fuck but can’t has arrive!  The guy who they want to fight, but are too pussy to step up because they can’t carry their keyboards around.

It’s me: Benjamin Snow.  I am the greatest otaku to have ever lived (one day I’ll snatch the Otaking title from Toshio Okada) . I am the promised child of otaku culture niche, whom the prophets once warned the basement dwelling beta white cuck virgins weeaboos..   I am the main character of my haters’ lives.  I am the anti-hero protagonist of this tale.

I’m honored that you, the reader and haters, are focused on me. All eyes on me.

Adrian (I almost forgot about him) and I checked into our hotel, the Hilton, which is right across from the Hyatt, the main Anime Central hotel.  Hilton’s a nice hotel chain for lodging space.  Not a nice company to work for however unless you’re a machoist who hates their life.  Oh wait I forgot you ain’t supposed to talk shit about shitty companies you used to work for.  Actually, I take that back.  Hilton’s 3rd party contractors can be hit or miss.  Not the company itself. Fuck you Lodging Hospitality Management.

Grudges and come up revenge aside, my boy and I got a top floor room. We’re top tier men so we gotta be at the top.  After showering (not with Adrian, that’s pretty gay), I decided to head to the Hyatt to scan the place for anyone I know.  Encounter another homeboy, “Joe”.  Joe’s a cool guy who I really wish I could hang out with more often despite we live in the same city.  Big black guy fighting game fan such as myself. After some small chat we decided to roll out to Rosemont Liquor, a super nice liquor store in Rosemont that you already know is gonna love the money they racked in from us alcoholic weeaboos.  

 Went in and brought a bottle of pineapple New Amsterdam, a pack of 312 Goose Island Wheat, and big boy beer: My first 12% beer in my life.  Trust me, drinking 12% beer is like smoking some fire ass kush after smoking that weak ass reggie for years on end.  Forgot the name of the beer but they’re not sponsoring me nor this blog, so it doesn’t matter.

 Following, Joe and I drove back to my hotel.  During the drive, we spoke about fighting games, with Casual Player Neglect Fighter V being the main topic (Street Fighter 5) and how garbage it lowkey is. I brought up how for some reason despite not playing in months, I was able to beat my friendes who play nearly everyday with Karin.

 Oh Capcom.  I hope one day, you guys figured out why nobody enjoy this game.

Joe dropped me off at my hotel, as he had prior plans with a friend.  Cool with me, given I had plans to kick it with another friend, “Vance”, and his Touhou cosplay crew at Hofbrauhaus.  I “met” Vance back at my first ACEN in 2013 as he was cosplaying as Momiji (from Mountain of Faith or whatever idunno I don’t play Touhou like that).  His outfit and the craftsmanship of it was amazing, and (at the time) Momiji cosplays were rather uncommon, so your boy had to take his pic.  I would not realized I met him at ACEN until later.

I officially met and hung out with Vance at Anime Crossroads 2013, at his Touhou Panel he was hosting.  We spoke about the series, our love for alcohol, and the convention scene in general. We naturally clicked and overtime, he became a good con friend.  On some real shit, I wouldn’t mind being friends outside of cons with the dude…if I didn’t live in St. Louis but there’s always non-con traveling plans. Enough of my longing for networking with folks, to Hofbrauhaus

 Hofbrauhaus’s food is amazing.  I could tell you the fantastic variety selection of dishes and drinks they have , but my black ass is too lazy to look up their menu online.  Settle with a picture of one of their dishes I that  cannot for the life of me pronounce.  I’m an American.  Not German.  We speak American in America.

 After showcasing my quietness to people I don’t know outside my established friends in the group (I’m lowkey shy around strangers) and appropriating German culture (because I’m slightly racist), I  walked back to my hotel and holy fuck! It’s fucking cold and windy as fuck outside! You see, my dumbass thought it would had been a great idea to wear a light T-shirt and shorts earlier in the day, despite knowing the fact the tempts were dropping..  

I’m pretty sure some folks saw me walking around shivering in shorts and a t-shirt and were like “This stupid ass nergo.”  Okay, I hope not.  Rosemont is mostly white people, and they don’t have the right to say Nergo. Kinda like how I don’t have the right to make racist jokes about the Germans in a German restaurant (inside my head of course). Das boot! Big titty thick Germans girls wearing those Dirndi dancing with giant beer mugs!  I swear I’m not racist towards Germans!

…fuck I’m racist.

I arrived back to my hotel to change into some warm clothes. Perhaps the harsh winds were karma for my inner-racism, but oh well. To help prove to myself I’m not a complete racist, I took up an offer to kick it with my white friend, “Beared Chibi-Usa” at ACEN’s infamous smoker’s circle.  Great source for debauchery.  And drugs!

Bearded Chibi-Usa, as his name implies, is a guy who has a beard and cosplays as Chibi-Usa from the Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon series.  Maybe he’s actually cosplaying an alternate timeline of Chibi-Usa, who is actually a female-to-male transgender, and they have a beard. Who fuckin’ knows.  All I know is that this man is cool ass businessman and has his own online advertisement company. Make that new money young nigga.

During our chill and smoking (tobacco) session, we overheard a rather interesting conversation between two guys talking about a stillborn dead ass baby.  So, this loud ass guy was broadcasting how he may or not had been cucked by his (ex?) girlfriend at the time, and how his girlfriend felt so bad about it that she let the guy have pity sex with him.  Like, raw dog busting all types of nuts inside the girl’s pussy pity sex with a creampie ending.  

As we all know, sex makes babies. Sometimes, stillborn babies. Hey, that’s life.  Some win.  Some lose.

Despite people giving this guy confused looks and laughing at him, he kept going with the damn story.  Bearded Chibi-Usa and I exchanged “what the fuck” looks and walked away, trying to contain our laughs to no anvil.  We needed to drink after that, man. That was too much for us and this was day zero.  A fuckin’ Thursday night.    

People; keep your personal business about being a cuck with a stillborn baby to yourselves. I will laugh at you. To keep your mind off how much of a fucked up piece of shit person I am for laughing at that poor guy, let’s go back to a certain point of this story.  Remember how I told ya Beared Chibi-Usa is a businessman? Well, some non-nerd businessman got on my boy case for being him; a nerd.  I don’t remember much of the details due to the alcohol and drugs, but I recall him shutting their ass down, talking about how he’s a businessman himself and that his company has clients from the companies the non-nerds work for.

Needless to say, he shut their ass down.  Ya non-nerds should really let go of the stereotype of the broke basement nerd still in their parents’ basement. But hey, they’re old fucks.  They have about what? 20-30 years of life left, and us young folks are gonna take their jobs overtime. No big deal.  

We settle back to my room and we spoke upon various topics, such as grime rap, weight lost, and business.  Grime rap. My god, no wonder it has that name. Angry.  Aggressive.  Blunt. Take what you know about (real) hip-hop culture,  give it steroids and make it British.  No, not fucking high class sip tea and eat crumpets British.  I’m talking the low income, brutal lifestyle of the the British. Rap battles taking place inside decaying buildings and under bridges. Harden street rappers going berserk with their personal attacks against rivals and enemies.   You got your feelings hurt?  Fuck you,  you’re a grime rapper. Suck it up.

 No wonder my boy got me hip to this genre.  I can see myself bumping this type of music and applying the story behind the music in my writings. I get inspired easily ya know.  Speaking of, his talk about business, and how his networks pretty much inspired me to work on my grind, hustle, and brand.  Here’s a young dude around my age with his own company, out here making moves and great money. I’m sitting here listening about his work. I’m like “man, if he can do it, so can I.” Granted, it takes hard work, dealing with self-doubts, and overcoming both haters and personal failures to reach what you want in life. This shit doesn’t come overnight.

 I’m dragging this story with nonsense filler and I pretty sure you guys want me to talk more about partying and less about my sappy self being inspired.  A couple of more folks came over to pregame (who I won’t mention because my uncreative ass can’t come up with fake names).  I think we played the godawful broken Sailor Moon Super S fighting game on my laptop, as well as a real fighting game like Super Street Fighter 2.  I got bodied in both because alcohol. One of my friends noticed my Sailor Saturn sticker on my laptop and we had a nice chat about why we like and relate to her (socially awkward but love having few but very close friends).   Come to think about it, I honestly forgot what happened from between me light partying and when I woke up the next morning. Fuck it, onto Day 1.  A day in which gave me more inspiration from dudes doing better than myself, an convention and hotel staff hating on my alcohol collection, and me having to control my temper to prevent killing somebody who I thought was a friend.

[battlefieldheart]

i was tagged by @frxnkenstein thnx clare ur the real mvc (most valuable cryptid)

name: caitlin star sign: leo height: 5′2″...and a half.

put your music on shuffle. what are the first 6 songs that popped up?:

I’m Not An Angel - Halestorm

Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) - The Offspring

Something Wild - Lindsey Sterling ft. Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness

Cynnics & Critics - Icon For Hire

arms - Christina Perri

Lie, Alive - Eyeshine

grab the book nearest to you and turn to page 23. what’s line 17?: " “I’m a businessman,” he’d told her. “No more, no less.” “

ever had a poem or song written about you?: I fuckin wish.

when was the last time you played air guitar: Um...choir in 6th grade, I think....whoops.

who is your celebrity crush: Oh man I have so many. So. Many.

what’s a sound you hate? how about love?: I hate the sound of lawnmowers. And people chewing. But I love the sounds of typing and high heels on hard surfaces.

do you drive? if so, have you ever crashed?: Nah

last book you read: I’ve been working on Six of Crows, but I mainly read it during travels, so I haven’t finished it.

do you like the smell of petrol: Uh....yes...It’s not my favorite scent by any means but I’m still weird enough to like it.

what was the last movie you saw:  The Greatest Showman!!!

what’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?: My brother cracked my head open with a candle when I was five.

do you have any obsessions right now?:  Uh....huh....I think so, I just can’t put my finger on any.

do you tend to hold grudges against anyone who’s done you wrong?: Listen. I’m 22. I literally just forgave a girl for stealing my favorite chapstick when we were in first grade. Does that say anything about me?

in a relationship?: L M A O no.

I’m gonna tag....Uh.....anyone who wants to do this i need more friends wow