#including ham theft

[winkle-pickers]

Woohoo, officially made my first foray into Thiefshipping!! I had so much fun writing these terrible kids. Gift exchange for @darkmagiattack ​ - thanks for the excellent prompt ideas, I’m such a hoe for arranged marriage fantasy AU’s 😂

Animal Husbandry

In the end, it doesn’t matter if the boys like each other, because Malik’s father needs Bakura’s father’s army, and Bakura’s father needs Malik’s father’s land. It’s a very mutually profitable arrangement, if you aren’t the one being forced to marry a rude little hellion.

The next time Malik and Bakura meet they are ten, and they end up fighting so badly that Malik ends up with a black eye and Bakura comes away from the encounter with the impression of Malik’s teeth in his forearm.

Their fathers are undeterred, and the marriage contract remains intact.

“He’s not so bad,” Rishid says, trying to comfort Malik.

“He’s awful,” Ishizu says, not looking up from her book. “Does make you two perfect for one another, though.”

Over the course of a decade, Malik and Bakura learn that marriage is horrible and annoying and generally a bad idea all around. On the other hand, it's kind of nice to have someone to set fires with. Arranged Marriage Fantasy AU

AO3 Link:

Animal Husbandry

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 15

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Thank you as always for the lovely responses on the previous chapter! It was a long one, so thank you for sticking through with me. We're about to lighten up a little with some Christmas spirit! ❄️🎁

**Also, if you're a fan of The Boys (and Soldier Boy), there's an awesome book you can check out, called Supes Ain’t Always Heroes: Inside the Complex Characters and Twisted Psychology of The Boys.

If you want to learn more about the book (including cast interviews and a character study on Soldier Boy), I wrote a review about it here!

Otherwise, on to some more firefighter!Dean!

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, tinge of angst, hurt/comfort, lots of feels.

Part 15: “The Good Part”

“How many damn arrests does that make?” Daniel asked. He gripped his pool cue with both hands while he leaned on it.

His son stood at the other end of the pool table, lining up his shot. He paused to think.

“Six,” Nick replied. His cue released, and it knocked two of his balls into the pocket.

“Six,” Daniel repeated, while Nick came his way to find an angle for his next turn.

Daniel shook his head. His lips were angrily pursed. His eyes might’ve been on the pool game, but he was playing chess in his mind. He had underestimated John Winchester for far too long, it seemed.

The man was stubborn as all hell. And he’d been busy lately, getting “Azazel’s” men busted for all manners of bullshit.

“Alastair’s mole says Winchester’s been calling in favors from his old friends in Narcotics, trying to bust our small fries,” Nick reported. “Getting them on everything from petty theft to drug possession, with intent to sell. But it’s nothing we can’t pull ‘em out of.”

“Time, money, added risk,” Daniel cited on his fingers all the reasons why John Winchester was a pain in his ass. “It’s only a matter of time before they get a warrant to rip apart Savage & Co., sweep the whole damn building. For forensic evidence, our files, all the jazz.”

Daniel’s fingers drummed thoughtfully against his chin. “A damn cop thinks he’s being cute.”

Nick missed his second turn. His hand fell against his thigh in annoyance, but he looked up.

“Dad, it’s your move.”

Daniel rubbed at his chin. His eyes were no longer seeing the board in front of him. Eventually, they slid up and met his son’s gaze.

“We’re going to start from the beginning,” he said.

Nick’s face gave away his confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Daniel just smiled.

It was Christmas Day, and John was late. Sam and Dean were used to that drill, so they weren’t expecting him until dinnertime.

Meanwhile, it gave you a chance to find your footing as you got to know Eileen. She had helped you bake the pies that were now cooling on the counter (pumpkin and berry crumble), and a few of the side dishes for dinner. Sam had covered cleaning up the rest of the house, while Dean tackled his favorites: the ham and the mac and cheese.

Now the guys were in the living room watching football while you and Eileen were still in the kitchen, decorating some gingerbread cookies you two had made. She enjoyed it; doing holiday crafts with her students had been bringing out her artistic side, she told you. You were happy for the help and the conversation.

You later tried to cover up your snort of laughter as she finished telling you the story of how Dean once dared Sam to wear women’s underwear for a whole week.

If he managed it, Dean had promised to do all the household chores for three months. If Sam couldn’t make it the whole week, then he would face the consequences: Dean would tell their dad about the bet.

“How old were they?” you asked.

Eileen scoffed. “Sam was a senior in college.”

You burst out laughing again. “So too old, is the answer… Did he win?”

Eileen gave you a mischievous smile.

“He did,” Dean said, as he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a familiar smirk. “I’ve got photographic evidence. It was a cheetah print thong, in case you were wondering.”

Your eyes widened on a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Cheetahlicious, you couldn’t help joking in your mind. Even if you’d rather not think of Sam wearing a pair of Victoria Secret’s best.  

Eileen giggled with you. Dean’s amusement gave way to curiosity as he eyed the little gingerbread men you two were icing. You warned him off with your eyes, but it took Eileen batting his hand when he tried to steal a cookie.

“Hey! Wait ‘til after dinner,” she said.

Dean pouted. “Come on, don’t be stingy.”

Rolling her eyes, Eileen sighed.

“You’re like one of my kids,” she said, while signing with her hands. But she caved and handed him a cookie. “Here. To tide you over.”

Dean smiled and signed back to her in ASL, Thank you.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he said. He leaned down to kiss her cheek in a brotherly gesture.

He shot you a wink before taking a bite of his prize. You shook your head at him, even though you were smiling. He came around to your side of the table. His hand rested on your back and he bent down towards your ear.  

“I actually came over for you,” he said. “Got a minute?”

Your brows rose, but you turned to Eileen in askance. “I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”

She nodded and made an “OK” gesture. “Of course.”

You smiled and let Dean lead you out of your chair, and even out of the apartment. He made sure you both grabbed your coats by the front door.

“Where are we going?” you asked. While you put on your coat over your sweater and jeans, you didn’t notice him grabbing two sets of keys.

“Just downstairs. No big deal,” he said, hefting on his own leather jacket.

You eyed him with some suspicion, but you walked with him down to the elevators and let him keep you close to his side. He smelled like the cologne you bought him for Christmas, and he was already wearing the new watch as well.

You’d struggled to find him the right gift. Nothing felt quite enough after everything he’d done for you the last few months. He’d assured you that he was grateful for both gifts, and had even tried to say the watch looked too expensive. (You’d shut him up with a kiss.)

Now, you had to wonder what he was up to as he led you into the parking lot, but not toward Baby. Instead, you two stopped in front of a shiny silver Chevy parked in a guest spot.

“Dean, what’d you do?” you asked, both excited and worried. He shot you a grin and dangled the keys in front of you.

“You like her?” he asked. His eyes were dancing. “You could keep her, if you ask nicely.”

Your face slackened. You looked between him and the sleek looking car.

“What?” You covered your mouth with both hands. Even after a few moments, your brain was still having a hard time computing. “No…what? Oh my God!”

You grabbed onto his jacket, just in case your legs failed you. Dean laughed and gathered you up in his arms. By the time you peeled your eyes away from the silver beauty to look up at your boyfriend, there were tears already swimming in your eyes.

“Dean, this is really too much. Where’d you find—”

“Bobby had it sitting in his garage for years,” he explained. His hand came up to brush your cheek, and the tears there. “I cleaned her up, dropped in a new engine, safe-proofed with new tires, new airbags, the works. Got her purring like a kitten.”

Your eyes grew a little wider with every admission. Then you softened, gripping the edges of his jacket while you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

“How much did he sell it to you for?” you asked. Dean dropped his head back with a sigh.

“Don’t you wanna take a test ride before we start hagglin’?”

You lightly smacked his chest. “Hey. How much?”

He let out another heavy sigh, but you eventually got it out of him. While the price wasn’t as bad as you might’ve expected, you still shook your head.

“I still have a decent chunk of insurance money left. I’m giving you at least half,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “This is my gift to you.”

Your lips pursed, despite the smile that wanted to peek through.

“Nice try,” you said wryly. “You already got me perfume.”

“That was just the decoy.” He grinned, and held you a bit tighter against him. He nodded towards the car. “She’s the main event.”

You wanted to sigh, but this conversation wasn’t over. You were definitely not letting him buy you a whole new…old car. You turned to look at it again.

“What model is this?” you asked.

“2002 Camaro Z28,” Dean rattled off. It sounded impressive, but you didn’t know much about cars.

He let go of you so you could get a closer look. Your hand passed over the hood, but didn’t touch, as if you were afraid of staining the paint with your fingerprints. He had to admit, he’d waxed it up good and managed to get rid of a lot of superficial nicks and scratches.

What he said was true though; Bobby had given him a frankly ridiculous deal. Because when Dean had told him what you’d been through after the car accident, dealing with your grandfather’s passing, and now your ever-mounting expenses, Bobby hadn’t let him walk away from Singer Salvage with anything else but this car. He’d even helped Dean get the new parts he needed to fix it up.

“Is it automatic or manual?” you asked, trying to peer through the driver’s window. “I haven’t driven stick in a hell of a long time.”

Dean came up from behind you and his warm hand found your hip. You let him draw you back into his arms, leaning against his chest.

His lips were close to your ear when he said, “I think you’re damn good at driving stick.”

It took you a second, but the heavily laden innuendo in his deep voice was hard to miss. You uttered a laugh and swatted his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. You were still smiling when you turned and twined your arms around his neck. Then you leaned up for a kiss—one that kept getting deeper with the full force of your gratefulness, and your love for this man.

“It’s an automatic,” he answered, between kisses. You giggled against his lips.

You barely felt the chill on the air. Your heart was beating fast, even when you pulled away from him. Your eyes slowly opened and met his. He smiled down at you and curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. As usual, you had most of it clipped up.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was quiet, but steady.

You let out a shaky breath. Emotion was clogging your throat, making your tears burn anew.

“This is a bit more than a Christmas present,” you said. He gave a more self-deprecating smile.

“Well, it’s also kind of an apology,” he said. “For getting you mixed up in my ‘family business.’”

He still felt guilt beyond belief for putting you in danger. For your life being threatened. For being the reason you couldn’t go home.

You just shook your head. Your hand raised to press against his cheek. Your thumb drew tenderly along his chin.

“I thought you said you were part of my family now?” you said. “We’ll figure this out together, like everything else.”

Dean’s eventual smile lightened you, and his kiss warmed you down to your toes. 

“If you want, let’s go for a ride after dinner,” he said.

It was your turn to smirk. Your hands migrated under his jacket and teased at his belt.

“Well, I’m certainly down for a ride,” you said.

Dean laughed and squeezed your hips. “All right. I’m puttin’ you on my naughty list.”

When John finally arrived, the brothers welcomed him in first with big man hugs and good-natured ribbing for him being so damn late.

In Sam’s words, Upholding a Winchester family tradition.

John had taken that with a chuckle. “Smells damn good in here.”

“Yeah, food’s been done for an hour,” Dean prodded at him again. His grin betrayed his teasing, however. His welcoming hand stayed on his dad’s shoulder until they reached the living room, where Sam had set up a longer fold out table and chairs to function as the makeshift dining room, since the table near the kitchen only seated three.

There you were opening a bottle of Jack Daniels. You smiled up at John.

“Figured you were more of a whiskey than wine kind of guy,” you said. You were a bit nervous to see him again, no doubt with flour in your hair and frosting staining your hands. He clasped your shoulder with a hint of a smile.

“You’d be right. Good to see you, darlin’,” he said.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the fact that the first and last time you two had met, it had been in front of your house as the police rifled through your life, looking for more explosives. He graciously didn’t bring that up as he greeted Eileen next.

Once dinner was on the table, there was a lot of catching up between the brothers and their father while you and Eileen continued talking, even through dessert.

“This really is amazing,” she told you, pointing her fork at her slice of berry crumble. “I can see why you went to culinary school.”

You blushed as Sam, Dean, and even John echoed her praise. All three men had generous slices of both pies. 

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you guys enjoy it,” you said, and your smile was genuine.

You loved making good food, but you loved feeding people even more. Whether it was a simple hearty soup or a rich dessert, you liked putting smiles on their faces and giving them a good experience; one they could share with their family and friends. Even better if it was your family.

Or as Dean would say, Your people. 

To you, that was life.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you opened up a bakery you’d make a killing in this town,” Dean said. He nudged your hand with the one that held his fork; it held a precarious piece of pumpkin pie.

You shot him an amused look.

“Don’t you look at me sideways, I’m serious,” he said, laughing a little, but his gaze was steady.

Your cheeks warmed against your will. He believed in your dream, even when you couldn’t quite let yourself.

“Hey, if you ever want to look into applying for a loan, I could help,” Sam said, earning your attention. “I have a friend who works at a bank.”

Your brows raised. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we were pre-law together back in college, but he figured he was better with numbers.”

You smiled. “Well, it would make it easier knowing I was dealing with your friend.”

“Yeah, his name’s Brady. Let me know if you want me to call him,” he said.

You bit your lip, but you nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe you should start to believe in yourself, just a little bit more.

“This was all real delicious,” John said to you, when you came back from bringing the leftovers to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already arguing about who was doing the dishes and who was drying them. Meanwhile, Eileen was putting away the food (and probably rolling her eyes).

“Yeah, it was a team effort for sure,” you replied. “Dean’s actually a really good cook.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, well, he didn’t get that from me. I can barely boil a damn egg.”

You smiled to yourself; you could imagine Dean got it from his mother then.

Meanwhile, John was watching you stack the empty plates as he grew more contemplative. He’d always been proud of his sons. They were good men, with strong heads on their shoulders.

He often looked at Sam and saw that he seemed happy. Despite the demands of his job, he was learning to balance that with the life he led with Eileen. As a father, John looked forward to the day when they made a firm foundation, taking the next step towards building a life together.

But Dean had seemed to him, a little unstable. John was still proud of his eldest, but while he’d seen a glimpse of it that day at your house, he saw it even more today. Like his son finally had an anchor, tethering him to dry land.

Even so, he couldn’t help heaving a sigh. And he asked you something he knew he shouldn’t.

“Have you given any more thought to filing a report on Nick Savage?” he asked.

You paused in your plate and cup stacking. You looked up at him with a frown, but you thought about your words before you said something rude.

“Yes, I did,” you replied. “I decided my life and my peace were more important.”

He let out a short sigh. “I understand—”

“I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think you do,” you said. Your words were matter-of-fact, if a tad more sharp than you meant them to be. Your hands were starting to tremble.

You crossed your arms to try and steady yourself, but Dean ended up doing just that, by joining your side and resting a hand at the small of your back. He was frowning, glancing between you and his father.

“Tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are,” Dean said, addressing John in particular. “Not on damn Christmas.”

“Like you said, it’s her decision,” John replied. His gaze once again focused on you.

You let out a breath, mostly of exasperation.

“I’m going to bottom-line it for you. If I report that man, and you can’t guarantee me a job and safety until it’s all over, then I’m not poking the bear,” you said. “I plan to keep my head down until I can find another job. Until then, you can have at him all you want. Just leave me out of it.”

Part of you felt selfish. You knew what John was trying to accomplish, and you knew how personal this fight was for him, and for Sam and Dean for that matter. You just couldn’t shake your gut instincts here. You knew Nick far too well by now, and you didn’t want to underestimate him again.

“I agree,” said Dean. You gave him a grateful look.

John conceded with a nod, but all of you knew he wasn’t satisfied. It became a bitter ending to an otherwise brilliant day after he left for the night.

In your mind, it wasn’t quite over yet though. You had a plan up your sleeve for one Dean Winchester.

Sam and Eileen had their own time together while you and Dean went for a drive in your new car. You’d have to transfer your plate and registration and insurance, so it was technically an “illegal” drive, but it was already late and traffic was scarce.

By the time you pulled back into the parking lot, you were smiling from ear to ear, and Dean was giving you that smug grin that said, Aw yeah, I did good.

You couldn’t even fault him for it, because he did exactly that.

Even when you and Dean were getting ready for bed, it didn’t quite feel real. You were living with your boyfriend of just a few months, you now had a new car, and a crime lord had threatened your life.

You chose to focus on the new car. And on your boyfriend, who sat on the edge of his side of the bed, rubbing his right shoulder through his shirt. You knew it must still be sore, though he likely wouldn’t admit it.

Hence, you were about to enact Phase 1 of your plan…

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

You withdrew your hand from his arm, but you spoke close to his ear.

“Are you asking?”

He let out a small sigh, despite his lingering smile.

“All right. Will you please give me a lil’ massage?” he asked.

He couldn’t see your triumphant smile, but you happily kissed his cheek.

“I sure can,” you replied. You laid gentle hands on his shoulders, however briefly. “Stay right here. Don’t move, but take off your shirt.”

“All right, Miss Bossy,” he grumbled. You knew he was teasing by the amused look he threw your way.

“I thought you liked that,” you teased back.

You climbed off the bed before he could playfully grab you, and you giggled all the way to the bathroom. There you began Phase 2 of your plan. 

First, you collected a few different bottles from your designated drawer under the sink. Then, you made a quick wardrobe change, after popping back into the bedroom to grab something from your nightstand.

You also connected your phone to the speaker on his nightstand and put some music on a low volume. It was a playlist he’d made and shared with you a while ago, with songs he thought you’d like. The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” was definitely on the list.

By the time you returned to Dean, he was indeed shirtless, still in his sweatpants, and checking his watch.  

“I’m here, I’m here,” you said. You climbed across the bed with your small haul—a difficult feat with your hands full, but you managed.

Dean turned to look at the bottles of moisturizer you dropped next to him on the bed. He rose a brow.

“Twilight Woods. Japanese Cherry Blossom. Appletini. Are these my only options?” he asked. His face was half bemused, half reluctant.

You almost burst out laughing. “Which one strikes your fancy?”

He scratched the back of his head. You opened the second bottle first (your personal favorite), so he could smell.

“Not bad actually,” he muttered. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t giggle, but you managed to open the other two for him to get a whiff.

“Eh, the first one I guess,” he said.

Japanese Cherry Blossom. AKA: a classic from Bath & Body Works.

You finally had to laugh. “Just kidding. I’ve got this.”

You held up a jar you’d been hiding behind him. Its logo said: Massage Oil.

“I just wanted to see which girly moisturizer you secretly wanna slather all over yourself,” you said.

Dean shot you a wry look, but only then did he see what you were wearing.

“Oh, hold up,” he uttered.

Your hair was let loose, how you knew he liked, and you’d teased it out a little. You’d had to give away the red lingerie you’d bought, to rid both of you of its lingering memories of your work Christmas party. Instead, you’d found something in a vibrant emerald green: satin and lace.

Dean’s hand reached for your waist, probably to bring you closer. But you playfully slapped his hand.

“Eh-eh! Not yet,” you said to his surprised face. You smiled. “I have a plan for you tonight.”

Slowly, he smirked. His eyes still dipped to take in the rest of you, from your pretty face, to exposed skin and cleavage, to shiny satin that clung to your curves and draped down to mid-thigh. 

“I can see,” he said. His voice was a notch deeper. “Merry Christmas to me.”

Despite your blush and growing smile, you turned him back around by his shoulders.

“Just relax.”

You let your hands drift up the back of his neck to slide your fingers through his hair. There you began with a slow, gentle massage of his head. You felt him take a deep breath.

You couldn’t see it, but Dean’s eyes had closed at your ministrations. He secretly really liked the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It made his shoulders loosen; with tension he didn’t know he had releasing from the neck down.

Aside from the rigors of his job, he also had to work out and condition his body to keep up his stamina. He probably didn’t spend as much time as he should on this aspect of things, making sure he wasn’t overtaxing himself.

He appreciated what you were doing though. He knew you cared about him, that you loved him. But he liked that you were also a caring person, who tried to take care of him. Dean hadn’t really had that…from anyone before. Sometimes, it was hard for him to let you.

…Damn, we really got too much in common, he realized.

When you migrated back down his neck, your hands left for a moment to gather up some oil. It was warm against his skin when you started between his shoulders, digging with the heel of your hands.

He groaned deep, surprising even himself.

Behind him, your brows were furrowed. “You’re really knotted up here. When was the last time you had a massage?”

Dean chuckled. “Never.”

You frowned. “Hmm. Okay, we’re definitely doing this more often.”

“No complaints from me,” he said with a grin.

Of course, you gave special attention to his right shoulder. You were gentler there, asking what was tender and what felt good, or too much. By then you had an easier time getting the truth out of Dean. He let you know when the pressure was too much, and you even helped him stretch out that arm until the muscles and joints were warmed up and the pain was gone.

You encouraged him to lie on his stomach in the middle of the bed, so you could start on his back. Your hands glided down planes of muscle and smooth slopes while you straddled his thighs. The only sounds you heard from him were occasional moans and rumbling, pleased sounds. That was also what let you know that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Okay, turn over,” you said, smiling when he groaned in protest. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

“What the hell’s the good part then?” he asked. His voice was muffled in the mattress, but when he turned around, flopping onto his back, his eyes once again took in the green satin and seemed to remember what your real intentions were.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. His grin was lazy, now that he was beyond relaxed, but his hands found purchase on your hips. You smiled down at him.

You let the remaining oil on your hands glide up his chest, until you lowered down for a kiss. It was unhurried and sweet.

“I love you, you know?” you said.

Dean swept his fingers through your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear.

He smiled. “I’ve got some idea, yeah.”

You both laughed, soft and true. Your hand rested against his cheek as you pressed your lips to his, soft and slow at first, but soon gaining in both passion and urgency. You felt his grip on your hips tighten, grinding your center against his growing length.

He groaned. No goddamn panties on. Good.

You kissed your way from his lips to his neck. Your teeth grazed his ear while you rolled your hips into his. It was a tease for both of you, but not for long, as Dean grew impatient enough to slide his sweatpants down, followed by his hands slipping under the satin covering your thighs. They traveled further still, squeezing your breasts and rolling hardened nipples under the pads of his thumbs.

Your breath hitched, and your pleased hum was music to his ears. By now you were bracing yourself against the mattress, but you used his shoulders as leverage to raise yourself up.

You took his hands and encouraged them to bunch up the satin and pull it over your head. Dean sat up with you still in his lap, and once his strong arm wrapped around your waist, it was skin to flushed skin.

You held his face and brought him down to you for another fierce kiss. He held you tightly against him, hands splayed across your back and tangling in your hair. His arms were a cage you never wanted to escape.

But you did press away from him, just for a moment, so you could reach down between your bodies to take a firm hold of his cock. You guided it to your entrance. There was already a small flood between your legs, and your core ached for him.

There was almost no resistance when you slowly sunk your hips down and down, until he was buried deep inside you.

You both made sounds of pleasure, with labored breaths as Dean’s hand cradled your cheek. He laid open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, teeth grazing down your neck.

You clung to his shoulders and began to move, slow in the way you let almost the full length of his cock escape you, before you slid back down. Dean moaned into your skin, and you let out a shuddering sigh.

You pushed at Dean’s chest until he was lying back, and you continued rolling your hips against his. He helped you create a steady rhythm on top of him, but he was being treated to a feast of the eyes as well as the pleasure rocking through his body. He watched the way you swept your hair back. The way your eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip.

But he couldn’t stay still for long; he knew he was close enough to practically taste his end, but you had some miles to go. He gripped your thigh with one hand while the other glided up between them, to further part your folds. His fingers found your clit, circling insistently like it was a button. It had your hips stuttering.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. “Dean—”

He managed to smirk through panting breaths. “Right there, right baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You continued to move as steadily as you could, but the feeling of him deep inside combined with his talented fingers playing you like a five-string guitar—it finally made you tighten on him, shuddering deep inside. Tingles broke across your skin, zipping up your spine as you gasped.

Dean helped you with the last few hard thrusts that brought him along with you, and you felt his warmth spilling inside you.

It was a heady feeling, and you needed a moment just to recover. Even though you were on birth control, every time he came inside you still felt like a dangerous, delicious game.

But after you slid off his lap and practically rolled into his side, him welcoming you with an arm wrapping around your waist, it did make you think, as you caught your breath.

It made you think about the first time you and Dean slept together. It had been the first and last time you’d asked him to wear a condom. The next morning, he’d made a remark that still hung in the back of your mind…

“You like kids, huh?”

The thought still rattled through your mind now, after you and Dean shared a quick shower, ridding you both of the oil clinging to your skin. The thought remained when you slid into bed, under fresh sheets and thick covers, and close to your man. He cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

Contrary to what this night had been, the whole “moving in together” thing hadn’t been all that easy. You two had bickered about the way he often left drawers and cabinets open and dirty clothes on the floor.

He had made remarks about your hair products taking up too much space in his drawers. Not to mention how morning routines needed to adjust because Dean liked to shower in the morning, but you needed the mirror not fogged up in order to do your makeup.

Right now, however, you had peace. You felt safe here, and you weren’t alone in a huge house filled with far too many memories.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Dean’s lips lingered on your forehead. “Hmm?”

“I know this situation is sort of temporary, me living here,” you said. “So much has happened that we haven’t really talked about…what we both want, down the line.”

He pulled back enough from you to see your face. His face betrayed a thread of confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean like…” you hesitated, but you realized you were probably going to have to be direct. “Are you a marriage and kids kind of guy? Is that even something you’ve thought about?”

Dean met your gaze. It took him a moment, but he let out a short sigh.

“You wanna know what made me want to start dating, for real?” he asked.

You blinked; you hadn’t expected that, but you nodded.

“I started thinking about what would happen if something happened to me on the job,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, he raised a placating hand.

“I thought about what I’d leave behind,” said Dean. He quirked a wry smile. “It’s not much, besides my car.”

You frowned in earnest. Your hand flattened against his bare chest.

“That’s not true,” you said. “You have your brother, your father, and your friends. That’s plenty, Dean.”

He conceded that with a nod. “You’re right. But I just started thinking, maybe I want more. Like uh…like what my parents had, when they were happy. The house, each other, me and Sammy…a family.”

You couldn’t be certain in the near total darkness of the room, with only the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting a glow behind him, but you thought you saw a shine in his eyes. Your hand crept up from beneath the covers to find his cheek. It was rough with stubble, yet you tenderly swept a thumb back and forth.

“I think that’s beautiful,” you replied.

Dean paused. He then huffed in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hoping he could see it. 

“Then uh, is that something you’d be into?” he asked. You were amused by his tentative approach. 

“With you?” You pretended to think. Your fingers slipped into his hair. “Yeah, I think I’m into that.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then. Good to know.”

He grasped your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss into your palm.

And he spoke into the dark. “I love you too, you know.”

Your smile deepened as you rested your head against his arm. You whispered into the small space between your faces.

“Yeah, I’ve got some idea.”

AN: All righty, how'd you like that fluff overload?

...Ready for some more drama? 😏

Next Time:

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

Keep Reading: PART 16

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[kevinsreviewcatalogue]

Review: Stream (2024)

Stream (2024)

Not rated

<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2024/10/review-stream-2024.html>

Score: 2 out of 5

Stream is a fairly forgettable, ho-hum movie, but one that would've made for a great video game. Specifically, it would've been a great modern-day remake of Manhunt, the classic and infamous 2003 survival horror game by Rockstar Games, the makers of the Grand Theft Auto series, in which you play as a death row inmate who is spared execution only to be forced into a snuff film operation. That, or it would've made for a great asymmetric multiplayer horror game in the mold of Dead by Daylight in which multiple people play as both the killers and their victims, with the former side scoring points by killing and the latter side doing so by surviving and escaping. It's rather appropriate, too, given that the film's basic premise concerns a shadowy criminal organization that has trapped a bunch of ordinary vacationers in a hotel to be hunted down by a group of masked slashers, the entire thing filmed and livestreamed for the enjoyment of sickos around the world. Not only is this quite similar to the plot of Manhunt, it also revolves heavily around the world of online streaming, something that is now part and parcel of video game culture, including one major character being an adolescent boy who streams himself playing video games.

And yet, despite this simple but golden premise, solid production values, sweet kills, cool killers, and Jeffrey Combs hamming it up as the villain, it just ultimately didn't come together as a good movie. The problems all came down to the story, which was overlong, took half the movie to get going, was so paper-thin with its satire of streaming that I can barely call it half-hearted in that regard, and was filled with throwaway characters who contributed nothing, existed only to die in creative ways, and had me muttering the Eight Deadly Words -- "I don't care what happens to these people" -- by the halfway point. This is a movie that people only paid any attention to in the first place because it was produced by Damien Leone and the rest of his crew from the Terrifier films, even though his creative involvement was limited to the admittedly cool special effects work. The best comparison I can think of is to the first film in The Purge series, a movie that had a very interesting premise that turned out to be ripe for a franchise but unfortunately blew the execution on the first go-around. I'd love to see a sequel that fixes all the problems that this film has, but I can't recommend it on its own merits.

Of the many characters we get among the people being hunted for sport, the only ones who get any focus beyond just serving as more bodies for the pile are the Keenan family, who serve as our protagonists, and Dave Burham, an older gentleman who turns out to be a detective investigating the people behind the carnage. Traveling through on their way to an amusement park, the Keenans consist of the father Roy, the mother Elaine, the rebellious teenage daughter Taylor, and the adolescent streamer son Kevin, and to be honest, I couldn't bring myself to care about any of them. Roy is a fairly flat hero, Kevin is little more than a prop, Elaine exists only to add another entry to the list of characters Danielle Harris has played in horror movies who get killed off brutally, and Taylor's motivations switch on a dime, at one point hating her parents and running away with a French guy she met at the hotel only to get cold feet and a sudden pang of "but I still love my family!" for no reason except to justify her returning to the film (and to create suspicion around the French guy that goes nowhere). As for Burham, he's blatantly telegraphed as a guy with a hidden agenda so early on that the big twist that he's actually part of the game not only wasn't a surprise, it ruined the film's attempts to create suspicion around the other people in the hotel. The actors were all acceptable, but they were saddled with such worthless nothing characters that their efforts were wasted.

What's more, the film asks me to spend an hour with these worthless nothings before it actually gets to the goods. I get what this movie was trying to go for here, focusing on the victims so that we care more about them once they start dropping. This was, after all, produced by the guys behind Terrifier, a series that only really came to life when the second film paired its memorable villain up with an equally memorable heroine to fight him. The thing is, Sienna Shaw was a legitimately great character in her own right, and the Keenans are not Sienna Shaw. They're depicted in the first half as a cliché of a suburban family that hates each other, and in the second half as bumbling idiots barring the brief moments when they get sudden, inexplicable bursts of hyper-competence (like, how did Roy know to take that opportunity presented by one of the hidden cameras being busted?). The movie was too dumb for too long to get me to care about its protagonists, which would've been acceptable had this movie gone for the requisite "twenty minutes with jerks" that horror movies usually use to give us the lay of the land before the mayhem starts, but not when its failed attempts at character development take up half the movie.

Where this film came alive was when it focused on the other half of the equation, the killers and the mysterious organization that's responsible for everything. Jeffrey Combs was clearly enjoying himself as Mr. Lockwood, the man who runs the whole operation and is clearly getting into it, at first posing as the hotel's owner to the guests before showing his true colors halfway in. A number of scenes in the first half revolved around Lockwood and his band of killers taking out the hotel's staff, rigging the place up for their murder spree, and facing a number of unforeseen problems that they have to work around, like one employee calling in sick and somebody else showing up in his place, or a drunken guest accidentally breaking one of their cameras. The killers themselves don't get to do much beyond wear cool masks and hack people up, but that is precisely what they do, and it is awesome. Each killer, identified only by a number, has a unique look, with Player 1 being a modern "hoodie" slasher, Player 2 channeling a lot of Art the Clown in his theatrics and body language (fitting, since he's played by David Howard Thornton under the mask), Player 3 being the token woman among them as a hot chick with a sadistic streak and a similar theatricality to 2 (who's shown to be her brother), and Player 4 being a hulking brute reminiscent of Jason Voorhees. The idea of a bunch of killers running around in a competition with each other, like a sick version of American Gladiators, was this film's big twist on the slasher formula, and it served as justification for a bunch of bloody and creative kills, the highlight being when Players 2 and 3 play a game of tic-tac-toe with a knife on some poor sucker's torso. They're winning extra points for style, you see, so simple stabbings just won't do. This movie should've focused on them, with the victims as merely supporting characters and minor antagonists, since the things it teased about the inner workings of this organization were far more interesting than the boring stories of the people they were hunting. The ending teased a whole ton of sequel ideas, as well as Tony Todd as another ringleader for this blood-soaked circus, all ideas that I think would've made a far better movie than the one we got.

The Bottom Line

Stream is a movie that doesn't know what its best qualities are. Instead of focusing on its cool killers and made-for-a-video-game concept, it spent way too long focusing on protagonists who were as dull as dishwater and who I couldn't wait to see meet their ends just to get them out of my face.

[porterdavis]

From the wayback machine

Ten years ago, another lifetime seemingly, I was working at a guest ranch in North Dakota. The how and the why of that will wait for another day, but it was an amazing experience. I had a fair amount of downtime (because North Dakota) and managed to write about some of my experiences, Here's one of my favourites ---

SUNDAY, JUNE 24, 2012 From Russia, with love

Friday when I got to work around 3:30 I discovered five guys sitting in the lounge patiently waiting. When I inquired, they told me in accented English they were there for dinner. I told them we started serving at four and they amiably ordered five pints of Sam Adams. A few pints later the ribs were ready to roll out and they happily descended on the buffet line like the proverbial locusts on Egypt.

The night wore on and they continued drinking their pints, played a few games of pool and generally enjoyed themselves. By ten o’clock the dinner rush was over, the cocktail waitress checked out and I once again took over serving them. The Sam Adams half-keg had run out and I had switched in a fresh 12 gallons. I had a few chances to talk to them and learned they were all childhood friends from Russia (they were now in their 30s), all professionals, who were living their dream. They were working as bicycle technicians supporting a team in the Race Across America, a 3200-mile race in 13 days. But their rider, who if I understood correctly was 68 (!) years old, had not made a checkpoint in Utah in the required time and was disqualified, leaving them in an RV in the middle of America with not much to do. They pulled out a map and charted a course from Utah to the east coast that by some chance took them to Buffalo Gap, ND smack in the middle of the Badlands.

By the shank of the evening they had drifted to the bar (I suspect to be nearer the taps). By this time the second keg was empty and they had to switch to Amberbock, which they found an acceptable substitute. A few regulars were at the bar, including two of the painters (you may remember them from our dust-up of a few weeks ago) who were celebrating their last night in town. Also present was a new loner who combined beer with a sullen attitude and hostility. I knew he would be trouble.

The atmosphere was boisterous but genial, there was much banter back and forth, but a one point some of the locals were mocking the Russians for the way they spoke. I asked them how their Russian was, which gave them pause for a moment or two. The sullen loner was making comments to no one in particular about ‘fucking commie bastards’. Then the dreaded confrontation started when a local thought a Russian was insulting him, when in actuality it was just a failure to communicate. I thought I was in for fight night redux, but one of the Russians declared they should decide matters by arm-wrestling. I admit this development had me flummoxed — all I could think of was that dreadful Stallone movie about arm-wrestling and I couldn’t remember how it ended.

But the Russians had a secret weapon in one of their members who swept the field, right up until our black man-mountain of a breakfast cook showed up with his arms like ham hocks. In quick order he slammed all their wrists to the bar top and the tournament was over. The Russians surrounded him like 5-year-olds at a petting zoo; I realized they had probably never encountered a black man before, let alone such an imposing figure. But the tournament had cleared the air of most of the testosterone-fueled animus.

Nothing is ever that easy however, and as the Russians were leaving one of them was seen (inadvertently) picking up a local’s pack of cigarettes, doubtless thinking they were his. This led to a confrontation by the door. I circled around to intercede and reminded the locals that even if it were theft it didn’t approach cattle rustling. I said I would buy a fresh pack, all the while the locals were almost demanding a strip-search of the bewildered Russians.

Just then the cook came in waving the pack of cigarettes in question, which the Russian had doubtless put down when he realized they weren’t his. The circling and milling and chest-puffing nonsense ebbed to a stop and the locals drifted back to the bar, satisfied their honour hadn’t been sullied. I walked the Russians out to their RV, apologizing for the silliness. They wouldn’t hear it — they kept enthusing about how great a time they had experiencing the Wild, Wild West.

A few slobbery hugs later they filed into their camper to sleep, perchance to dream (sorry…). I felt like phoning points east to let people know the Russians are coming, but decided to let life take its course without me meddling. They have their memories and I have mine. Happy trails, comrades.

[thenavysealkie]

Who You Gonna Call? || Marcus & Nora

TIMING: June 16th LOCATION: The Light House 

PARTIES: Marcus @thenavysealkie&Nora @honeysmokedham 

SUMMARY: Marcus hires Nora, who he believes to be a medium, to get to the bottom of a recent haunting at the lighthouse. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Nora was a huge fan of going into places she shouldn’t be. Breaking and entering was probably her number one most committed crime closely followed by theft. Most people never invited her to go to new places. That was what made this online experience truly exhilarating. Not only was Nora invited to a lighthouse, she was getting paid in ham to go visit it and check out if there were any ghosts. Nora figured there were ghosts. Many places held the translucent undead. Was there anything Nora could do about getting them to leave? No. She was going to show up, confirm that they were there, then leave with her ham. Perfectly orchestrated as all things were. 

The trek to the lighthouse was a long one, but Nora got there eventually. It looked old. Weren’t lighthouses supposed to be impressive? Nora wasn’t very impressed by this one. Nora walked up to the door and banged on it. “Hello. I’m here about the ghosts.” Nora called. Wind whipped around her tugging at her hair and clothes and chasing away her voice. Windy and unimpressive. She hoped the ham was good at least. 

-------------------------------

Marcus sighed, eyes fixed all the way up at the ceiling to the towering lighthouse. He was seated at a desk, and leaned back in his chair slightly, daring gravity to take control and tip it all the way over. He was delighted to be tasked with the assignment of assisting the lighthouse keeper on Hanging Rock, but he had disappeared only a week into Marcus’s tenure as assistant. Now the responsibility fell to him to take care of the old building. 

To be fair, it wasn’t like he had to do much. Lighthouses were essentially all self sufficient nowadays, even the older ones. He just needed to be on call in case any of the mechanisms within were to break down, mainly the signal light. Luckily, his time in the Navy taught him a thing or two and made him much more mechanically adept. Also, and this wasn’t exactly a requirement of the job, he would hang around there during the day to respond to any wrecks or drowning swimmers. Shipwrecks weren’t exactly common, but speedboats and jet skis smacking into the rocks were a more common sight. Some people simply didn’t have any respect for the dangers of the sea. 

Now he was sat at his desk trying to determine if the moaning he heard from the upper levels of the lighthouse were from the wind or something of the supernatural variety. He was open to the idea of the paranormal, but always tried to exhaust any rational explanations he could before chalking it up as unexplainable. Still, after the previous lighthouse keeper disappeared, he has noticed more unexplainable events. Shadows moving out of the corner of his eye, banging and moaning sounds without explanation. He swore one day that he had even felt a cold hand clamp down on his shoulder. 

As a hail mary effort, he decided to ask around town for any mediums or people who knew about the paranormal. After all, this town had a reputation for attracting creatures of the supernatural variety. He supposed that even included himself. A knock on the door had grabbed his attention followed by a woman’s voice. Perfect, he thought to himself. The person who responded and promised to help him was here. Oddly enough, she requested payment in ham. Marcus got up and answered the door to greet his guest.

--------------------------------------------------

Nora was a standing man emoji in front of the door as she stood and waited for it to be answered. A man answered. Between the steps to the lighthouse and his giant's height, the man toward over her. Instantly Nora felt distaste for the man. Nora hated tall people. They were always standing. Couldn't they sit and be normal people's height? Nora pushed past the man, refusing to wait for a beckoning to allow her in. Nora took one look around the entryway of the lighthouse, hands on hips as she examined the interior. "Yeah. This place is haunted." She didn't see any ghosts, but it was a gut feeling. Any place that made Nora feel right at home had to be haunted, and Nora felt like she could live here and be happy.

Without further conversation, Nora headed towards the staircase. If she was going to be in a lighthouse, she was going to be at the top of the lighthouse. Her combat boots slapped heavily against the stairs as she raced her way up. Halfway through the climb, Nora realized that slow and steady should have won the race. Her breath was coming in rapid intervals. She really needed to climb the stairs to the crypt more often. Nora slowed her pace and focused on controlling her breathing. No way was she going to let the giant know a few stairs got her out of breath. For bearsake, she walked everywhere. She'd hiked across the country twice. 

Emerging out into the lantern room was breathtaking and worth the trip. Nora made two laps around the room, before settling in a spot staring out at the town. Wicked's Rest. Her town. Nora's eyes scoured the landscape to see if she could find her graveyard in the distance. "Nice view. I can see why people are dying to see it." A little ghost humor. The ghosts back at the graveyard hated that one, so naturally Nora pulled it out every chance she got. "Why do you think this place is haunted?" Nora asked, turning to the giant. "I doubt it's not just for the view." Nora let out a yawn, her body letting her know that climb had been tiring. "You murder someone here?" Nora had found out that the majority of people she met in this town seemed to be murderers. What was one more? 

-----------------------

Marcus watched as the rather short woman looked him up and down cautiously before pushing him aside and storming into the building. 

“You must be Nora. By all means, make yourself right at home” he said sarcastically. Whoever this woman was, basic manners didn’t seem to really be a priority for her. 

He shut the front door and followed the woman who was looking around the interior of the lighthouse and stating that the building was most definitely haunted. He thought this was a pretty fast assessment to make, but who was he to question the process of an expert medium? It’s not like the signs of the haunting he had been experiencing were subtle by any means. His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of loud footsteps climbing the metal staircase up to the lantern room. At first the sudden loud noise startled Marcus, but then he glanced over and saw that it was only his guest stomping up the stairs without saying a word. Marcus decided to follow after her so he keep talking to her. 

As he came to the top of the stairs, somewhat winded, he saw the woman already pacing around the room before seeming to find a spot with a good view and looking out at Wicked’s Rest. He couldn’t blame her, the small town definitely had its charm and the view from this height was simply breathtaking. Marcus stifled a groan as he heard the woman’s pun about people dying to see the view. It would have been rude, after all. 

However, he couldn’t hide how caught off guard he was when she very bluntly asked if he had ever murdered anybody. He couldn’t tell if she was joking, but the truth is he had taken a life before. Between the bombs and missiles deployed by the various ships he had served on and the enemy aircraft shot down with the ship’s guns, he figured he had probably been responsible for several deaths. But could he classify those as murder if they were in war time? After all, it was kill or be killed… wasn’t it? It wasn’t a subject he liked to dwell on for too long. 

“I’ve never killed anybody who wasn’t trying to kill me or my friends”, he said bluntly. “I’ve definitely never murdered anyone in this town. I just think it’s haunted because ever since the old lighthouse keeper disappeared things have been, well, very weird. I hear banging, moaning, things appearing in the corner of my eye. One time I could have sworn I felt a cold and clammy hand come down on me. Now THAT was terrifying. I’m just wondering if there’s a spirit here who has unfinished business. I usually don’t believe in ghost stories, but it’s hard to ignore when you’re in one. If it’s the old lighthouse keeper, I’d like to give him peace so he can rest. He was good to me, for the brief time I knew him, so I want to make sure he has the peace he deserves.”

-------------------------------------

“I’ve never killed anybody who wasn’t trying to kill me or my friends”, So he was a murderer. Everyone in this town was a murderer, it seemed. Nora examined the giant, her blank face as expressionless as ever. “Was that man trying to kill you?” Nora pointed to the ghost that appeared up in the lantern room with him. The old man was moaning something about being drowned. Dragged to the depths. Gasping for air. Nora was only partially paying attention, there was too much conversation she had to do with the giant. The giant had gone on to state that he’d never murdered anyone in the town. There went the theory that he’d killed for the lighthouse. She would have to come up with a new one. 

Nora left him mid sentence, stomping across the platform and coming face to face with the moaning ghost. “Hey.” Nora interjected in between an incredibly gruesome recount of how the old man’s lungs had filled with water and the detail of how it felt to die that way. Nora noted the old man’s torn pants, hand prints burned into the flesh. “Did that man kill you?” Nora pointed to the giant. She could never be too sure these days. She doubted a ghost would lie to her. 

The old man blinked his eyes, she watched as they focused in on her. “You… You can see me?” Nora wanted to roll her eyes. The temptation was so strong. Alas, she had an appearance to keep up. She kept hold of her cold stony expression, crossing her arms over herself. 

“Of course I can hear you, I’m talking to you. Did that man kill you?” 

“No.” 

“Who did it?” 

“Woe is me. It came from the depths. There I was walking along the beach and it grabbed me. It was so cold, I tried to p-” 

Nora rolled her eyes. She turned back to face the giant. “Yeah. Your dude got murdered. Won’t shut up either, I can see why they chose him.” The old man made an indigent noise. Normally Nora liked ghosts, they were her favorite people to talk to. Today was different only because she had a payment of ham coming up and there was a rumbly in her tummy. “Sounds like he got dragged into the ocean and drowned.” The ghost moaned about how cold it had been, about how even now, in depth, he could still feel the cold sinking into him.”He’s very adamant that it was very cold.” Nora clapped her hands together in a motion that said well, this job is done. “So about my ham.”

-------------------------------------

Marcus was a bit stunned when he noticed his guest point and start talking to somebody who he couldn’t see at all. Either this woman was playing him, or there really was a spirit haunting the lighthouse. He didn’t know which reality he would prefer. He couldn’t help but feel a bit offended when she pointed towards him and asked the air in front of her if Marcus had murdered them. He may be well built and still certainly capable of murder, but he was hoping he had given off a more friendly and peaceful demeanor. He didn’t come to this town to put people on guard and be wary of him. From the moment she walked in, however, this woman seemed to have him pegged as a monster. 

He almost couldn’t believe his ears when he heard the cold and callous nature that she recounted the grizzly nature of the man’s death. He had known the old man to be a kind soul who was nothing but good to him. Marcus couldn’t imagine being dragged down to the depths of the cold ocean. He had heard tales of supernatural creatures who would drown unsuspecting travelers. Could it be that one was present right here in Wicked’s Rest? If that were true, then that would put even more townspeople in danger. He couldn’t have that. 

Unfortunately for him, he seemed to be the only one who cared at all about the present danger. She only seemed concerned about her hams. Ah, of course. Her precious hams. She really had Marcus go out and get 3 full hams just as payment to come and reveal this news to him. He had the hams ready in the fridge downstairs; he was always a man of his word. But he wanted more information first, and was determined to find out from the medium. 

“Can you ask him if he saw what attacked him? I can’t just have random townspeople being pulled to their deaths while just trying to stroll down the beach. It’s part of my duty to keep these beaches safe, and stopping crazed murderers pulling people into the ocean is definitely a part of that duty. I can sweeten the pot a little if you help me”. 

-------------------------------------------------

“Can I ask him?” Nora looked between the man and the ghost. “That’s a little rude, don’t you think? He’s standing right next to me. He’s dead, not deaf.” Nora’s blank mask didn’t budge, despite the scolding she was giving the man. Some people were just rude like that she supposed. Nora turned back to the drowned old man, still crying about how cold it had been, about how he was scared his soul would be cold for all of eternity. How he wished to feel the sun on his skin again and be freed from his eternal chill. “Yeah, we get it. It was cold. What about the person who attacked you? Talk about that for a while." 

As the old man spoke, Nora made sure to repeat every word he said. That way the giant would have no more questions and she could take her ham and leave. While Nora did an excellent job at repeating every word, her monotone and flat affect did nothing to reflect how traumatized and heartbroken the old man was as he recounted his death. "There I was, walking along the beach. It was a fine crisp morning, a morning that made my knee hurt. You know I've had trouble with it since '92, but that didn't matter. Because it was a good day. I woke up that morning and I said to me self, I said I was going to go out and walk the beach. I was going to go enjoy the waves and the sun and get some stretch and these here old bones." Nora took a deep breath. Her jaw was hurting from talking. Why did the ghost have to talk so much? Couldn't he just think about everything like the rest of them? 

"So there I was on yonder beach, stepping around, I bend over to look at a seashell. It'd been a while since I wanted to look at a seashell. When I was a kid, I'll tell you, son, when I was a kid I used to love looking at seashells. You know I had a col-" Nora let out a cough. She was willing to tell the story of how he died, not the story of how he used to collect seashells. At least the ghost had the good graces to look embarrassed. Nora nodded for him to go on. "Anyway, a hand wrapped around my ankle. I turned around, I thought maybe a swimmer had washed up in need of help. Oh, but when I looked at that there creature... the good lord must have already taken its soul because the thing was a shriveled husk. I tell you I ain't ever seen anything as frightening. It's hand... It was so cold. I thought to myself "Why is it so could?" I couldn't think to do anything else because that's how cold it was. It was like I'd never been warm before. I'm not one for the cold. Don't know how I ended up in Maine. Always thought I'd retire to the fl-" Nora coughed again. 

"Anyway, this thing. It starts dragging me into the water. So I put up a little hootin and holler. I'm standing there screaming for me life, but my bad knee goes out and I fall down. The thing dragged me all the way to the bottom of the ocean. The water... The water filled my lungs." The man finally stopped talking. Nora honestly never thought she'd see the day the man chose to stop talking. She stared at him for a minute, so the man was drowned by someone who lived at the bottom of the ocean?

Nora turned to the giant, fairly certain she knew exactly what killed the ghost. "Do mermaids live around here?" She asked. 

-------------------------------------------------

Marcus listened to Nora repeating the old man’s long winded account of how he died. Yep, he thought to himself, that’s definitely the old keeper. He hadn’t known the man for long, but he knew the old man could talk your ear off about how things used to be and how the trade had become too simple and soft. “Ya used to have ta live here 24/7, yer whole life became focused on this lighthouse and the sea. Nowsadays it’s all automatic, just some maintenance here and there. It’s completely trivialized the profession. But, I s’pose there’s a lot fewer good men losing their minds in there.” He recalled the old man saying to him during his first day on the job. 

The old man may have been a bit quirky and difficult to be around at times, but he was kindhearted and he felt genuinely sad to hear the man suffered in his final moments. But if there was something dangerous lurking around the shore, that put others in danger too, including himself. He certainly didn’t fancy himself becoming the next victim of…something. 

Mermaids. Mermaids? He knew sirens were in these waters, but it would be hard to explain to her exactly how he knew that. Suffice to say, he had had a bad run in with one not too long after coming in to town. He didn’t know of any mermaids, but felt it was certainly possible. All sorts of creatures were said to inhabit this small town. 

“I’m not so sure about mermaids. There’s definitely been rumors of all sorts of things in these waters, so it could be. Are mermaids known for attacking old men walking along the shore? If so, we should probably do something about them to keep everyone else safe!

The old man was still talking. Nora wasn’t unsympathetic to the dead. In fact, a lot of her friends were ghosts. All her neighbors were ghosts too. Nora usually loved spending time listening to their long-winded stories about how they died. Even if they ended up telling the same death story over and over and over again. Like she got it, you only die once and that is a very important story but maybe get some new material. Maybe if they joined her in the ghost army, she’d been trying to make to terrorize the town. They would have an abundance of fun stories to tell people. Stories about making people scream and pass out. Those stories would be funny.

Nora walked away from the talking ghost, away from the view of Wicked’s Rest and across the lantern room to look out over the water. The ocean was enormous. Beautiful shades of blue, gray and white mixing together into a sight so large it defied comprehension. Sure, Nora could pull out her phone and google how big the ocean was to the exact square foot but standing at the top of the lighthouse and staring into the ocean’s gigantic embrace. It was mesmerizing.

“I don’t know anything about mermaids.” Nora admitted. Her eyes roving over the turning waves slapping against the surface. “I don’t know anything about stopping mermaids.” Nora turned to face the giant again. She should probably ask for his name, but what more information did she really need about him other than he was willing to pay her ham for her services, and he was taller than any one person should be. It wasn’t that she was biased. At five foot one Nora thought she was the perfect height for most things.

“Are you a strong swimmer?” Nora asked, if he wanted to stop mermaids, he was probably going to have to fight them on their turf. “You could always walk along the shore until one of them drags you down.” Nora wasn’t sure what came next. “Maybe you could hire a hunter?” Were hunters for hire? Nora wasn’t sure. She just knew hunters took out supernatural creatures. Especially the ones that killed humans. “I think the mermaids are probably just hungry.” Nora patted her own stomach. She could understand being hungry enough to eat anything around. “Maybe you could leave food out for them so they don’t feel the need to eat people.” 

Marcus watched the woman in front of him seemingly look annoyed and turn away from the invisible man she was previously speaking to. He looked down at her as she eyed him up cautiously. Strangely, in spite of her stature, she didn’t seem intimidated in any way by his size. He decided that was a good thing. Honestly, if anything, she intimidated him just a little bit. Not that that was something he would ever actually admit. 

He paused a bit when she mentioned hiring a hunter. He knew of one individual in this town who was likely a hunter, and he really didn’t feel he was on particularly good terms with the man he caught dumping remains into the ocean. Besides, the less he associated with hunters, the better. He remembered being pursued by one back home in Oregon, and nearly lost his life. He had also known other selkies in his family that weren’t so lucky. Their pelts were valued highly for their rarity and their magical properties. On top of that, he felt a lot of hunters simply enjoyed killing. As if it were a sick game of sorts. 

“No hunters”, he said rather abruptly. “I just don’t feel like we’d have much luck, especially if we’re not even sure what we’re after. Now leaving food out for bait, that’s a much better idea. If we can lure them onto land, we can catch them and hopefully put a stop to them as soon as possible. Whatever kind of creature it is, they’re carnivores. So we’d need some hearty meat to throw their way. Maybe…some hams?”

He knew the hams were her payment, but surely she would be able to sacrifice one or two for the greater good of the town. After all, she had three. She wouldn’t need all of them that badly, would she?

No hunters. Nora could get that, but a question suddenly slithered its way into Nora's mind and wrapped itself firmly in the leading position. Hands-on hips, Nora examined the tall man even more. "Why no hunters? What are you?" At this point, Nora was willing to assume everyone in this fucking town wasn't human. Imagine that. She'd spent her whole life being the only monster on the block, and it was because each and every other monster was sitting in Wicked's Rest. "You didn't even ask what kind of hunter. You know." Nora was a private investigator now. She could put these dots together. She had the know-all. 

Worst of all, the giant wanted to use Nora's hams as bait. Nora looked between the still-talking ghost and the giant. "Oh. We're solving this now? I thought I was just here to facilitate a ghost conversation?" Nora dug into her pockets, lighter, snake, snack, string. Her hand found what it was looking for, a knife. She pulled it out. "Alright. Now I'm ready. Fine, we can use one of my hams. Only one." Then Nora was on the move again. No point in putting off the inevitable. "But you're going to owe me three more." Nora threw over her shoulder. 

The stairs rang with the sound of boots slamming against metal steps as she ran down the steps. Each time she came across a door she would bang it open to look inside. Kitchen? No. Kitchen? No. She found the kitchen eventually and retrieved one of her promised hams. "I'll be back for the rest of you later." She informed them before slamming the door shut. Nora was going to need to find out if killing monsters was an extra cost, or if it came with the service. Emilio always seemed down to kill things for free. 

Nora still wasn't waiting for the giant to catch up. She was on the move again, busting out the lighthouse door and emerging into the light of day. Nora squinted, shielding her eyes. "Hey, do you think this would be better to do at night?" Nora wasn't sure when mermaids came out of the ocean.

Marcus was a bit caught off guard by the question. He didn’t really think she’d be so bold as to ask a question so directly. What are you? It wasn’t a question he was very comfortable answering. At least, not yet. He needed to know if she was a friend to the supernatural first. 

“I didn’t need to ask what kind of hunter. I’ve been taken for a ride by too many of them.” He was being honest, just taken for a ride in a literal sense. “I know they’re not all the same but too many have said they’d help me, only to take my money and run. Besides, money’s a little tight right now anyway. I don’t make much to begin with and your hams kind of stretched things a little thin. I definitely don’t have enough to afford a hired gun. Maybe one that would do it for free, but I’m not so sure I’m keen on that either.”  He had hoped she would accept his story of being broke and not press the issue further. He also hoped it would get him off the hook for the additional hams she requested. 

As they walked out of the front door, sunlight hit them. Nora had asked him if it would be better to do during the daytime, and he wasn’t sure. He still wasn’t even sure what they were after, but he knew it probably wasn’t a mermaid. 

“Mermaids lure in unsuspecting victims, usually men, by either seducing them or pretending to be a drowning victim. That old man wouldn’t have dove in for a woman and he was nowhere near a strong enough swimmer at his age to even think it was a good idea to save somebody. Definitely not a mermaid. But something that’s likely active during the day, since that’s the time of day when the most people are out and about”, he said matter of factly. 

He grabbed the ham from the young woman in front of him and laid it down at the shore line, hoping to entice whatever had taken the old man. While the creature may not be there anymore and the ham could very well be picked apart by seagulls, he had a slight sense of optimism. Maybe this was his chance to finally rid this town of some evil force and save some lives.

“Taken for a ride?” Nora repeated the phrase, a question lacing into her monotone voice at the statement. Nora didn’t know hunters did ride alongs. That was some police shit. From what she’d heard of hunters, they probably were into police stuff. A power trip of taking people along with them. “Yeah, hunters seem like a shit group. Just don’t know anyone else designed for killing these things, you know?” This man had basically already admitted that he’d killed before, saying that he hadn’t killed anyone who hadn’t been trying to kill him and his loved ones. Nora had done the same thing. Same boat between the two of them. Surely, they could muster up enough strength between them to kill a mermaid. “No hunters. Got it.”

“Alright. Go get seduced.” Nora pointed at the open water. If he was right, and mermaids mostly targeted men, she wasn’t going to be of much help. Sometimes people mistook her for a thirteen-year-old boy, but who wanted to seduce one of those? They were all shit as far as Nora remembered from her time at that age. But the man had continued to say that he didn’t think it was a mermaid. He sure knew a lot about the supernatural world, Nora was coming to realize. She also hadn’t gotten the answer to what exactly he was. Nora’s hands took firm placement on her hips. “It’s funnier if you let yourself get seduced by a mermaid anyway.” If Nora was going to let one of her hams go, she at least wanted a show.

“But fine, It’s not a mermaid. Then what is it?” The ham was taken from her, and placed on the shore line, leaving the two standing there like a pair of idiots watching a ham get slapped by the ever creeping tide. Nora tilted her head to the side. This was like a scene out of some artsy black and white film whose point would go right over her head. It was also a waste of a perfectly good ham. It would be sandy now and covered in sea water. “Maybe if you went and sat by the ham, they’d be more willing to seduce you.” Okay, she wasn’t going to let that go. It would be so funny to watch a fish woman seduce someone to death. Even if she was here to help stop them. 

“If you don’t think it’s a mermaid, what do you think it is?” Nora wasn’t the most knowledgeable on the supernatural. Honestly? That sucked. At least it seemed like she could probably worm some sort of information out of him. “What other humans live in the water?” Nora, deciding this would take longer than planned, settled down in the sand. She pulled out her phone and started searching google for people who lived in the ocean. The first result was The Bajau, which were actual humans who lived in houses on stilts in the ocean. She added supernatural to the search. “Alanteans, that’s some superhero shit. Selkies? Never heard of them. Mermaids, you already said no.” Google was truly unhelpful. 

Marcus made the decision to ignore her not understanding what he meant by “taken for a ride”. Between her and the person who attacked him at the bar, he made a mental note to himself to be much more literal when speaking to people. He also couldn’t help but chuckle to himself a little when she mentioned him getting seduced by a mermaid. 

“While I can appreciate the beauty of a woman, I don’t think they’d be very successful at seducing me. Not quite my cup of tea.”

As for what else it could be, that posed a number of interesting possibilties. Kelpies would be more than a little terrifying. He figured he could take one, but he wasn’t sure how helpful the small young woman beside him would be. Plus, there was always something unnerving about a horse just charging at somebody from the water. Above all else, he hoped it wasn’t a siren. He was terrified of sirens. Them and selkies notoriously don’t get along, and there are major turf wars if their territories end up too close to one another.

The thought of encountering one, or worse, an entire clan, filled Marcus with an anxious energy that he burned off by pacing back and forth to and from the shoreline. Finally, he stopped at the shore and simply looked out at the horizon, figuring if nothing was going to grab the ham, it also wouldn’t grab him. Suddenly, he saw a large human shaped shadow approach the surface of the water at alarming speeds. Before he could turn and sprint away from the creature, he felt ice cold hands wrap around both of his ankles. He let out a yell to grab the woman’s attention, still unsure of how helpful she would be, as he fell to the sand. 

“You don’t need to be for real seduced.” Nora couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she said that. “Just be seduced enough that they come close enough.” Where was the critical thinking here? How would being fully seduced help the situation at all? Just a little seduced was all that was ever necessary. Nora’s google search was taking nowhere, and instead she had started texting her friends about how she’d found herself in a situation where a giant of a man needed to get seduced by a mermaid, and how it cost the price of one of her precious hams and life really did take strange turns.

Nora was mid-sentence in the text message when the man started screaming. Nora looked up, “That doesn’t sound like you’re being seduced.” Nora commented. Fingers were wrapped around his ankles. Okay. Mermaids had foot fetishes. Noted. Was that a ‘you want what you can’t have’ kind of thing? They had tails, humans had feet. Oh whatever. Nora dropped her phone on the dry sand, shirked off her jacket and ran full force into the ocean.

The cold water splashed against her as she sprinted into the water, taking the large, exaggerated steps of someone not used to walking in the ocean. Her now wet fingers slipped against the grip of her knife, but she held tight as she took her first eager look at the mermaid. The eyes that stared back at her looked dead on the inside. Worst of all, it had legs. This wasn’t a mermaid. Nora swiped with the blade, cutting at one of the arms. The creature didn’t react, instead it kept trying to drag the giant, maybe she should have asked for his name if he was going to die in front of her, into the ocean. Nora cracked her neck, stretching an arm. She’d been training for this. Nora slammed her knife into the creature’s skull. At least, that’s what she had been aiming for. Between the tide slapping her legs, the wetness in her fingers, and the rock she didn’t see beneath her feet, Nora fell into the water and missed her mark completely. Oops. 

Marcus watched the girl fumble with the knife before splashing harmlessly into the sea. He wasn’t expecting much from her, yet still found himself disappointed. The…thing that was on top of him hadn’t loosened its grip at all, and started to drag him further into the sea with a surprising amount of strength. Marcus tried to hold on, but couldn’t get any kind of traction, pulling up clumps of wet sand as his fingers dragged across the beach. 

He kicked helplessly as he tried to gain any sort of leverage on the creature. Suddenly, it drew him closer to its body. It was a rather hot day, but he felt its cold embrace sap any heat he had in his body. At this rate, he’d die of hypothermia in minutes. With a sharp twist of his body, he and the creature went tumbling onto the sand, rolling further away from the shoreline. Luckily, Marcus managed to wrestle himself on top of the creature, and was finally able to get a look at its face. Its skin was a pale blue color and its actual facial features looked partially decomposed. He suddenly became aware of the smell the creature had; rotting flesh and low tide weren’t a particularly pleasant combination. 

It gasped, continuing to hold Marcus’s body close to its own. It let out a long sigh, allowing Marcus to catch a whiff of its rancid breath as well. He pushed against the creature with all of his might, but couldn’t seem to break its grasp at all. He could feel his blood turn to ice and his whole body was shaking violently now. He struggled desperately, but the monster’s grip held firm. There was nothing he could do stare helplessly at the monster as the life drained away from him.

Salty ocean water invaded Nora’s mouth, which hadn’t been closed in preparation for her fall into the water. The waves slapped against her as she tried to get her head back above water, spluttering and coughing. Near her, she could see the giant and the not-mermaid grappling. God, it looked like a corpse. And the smell coming off it. Nora wanted to wretch, but there was a life that needed saving. A life she needed to save. Cracking her neck again, Nora decided it was time to get super serious.

It took a moment to enter serious mode. She had to force herself back into a standing position when the pulling of the water wanted to keep her down. Nora was careful this time, careful of the unknown ocean floor that held sharp rocks for her to step on without paying attention. The giant seemed to be holding his own, managing to get to the top of the grapple. That was until it sighed, and Nora also caught a whiff of that giant smell coming from its mouth. Nora held back another wretch. God, why couldn’t ocean monsters just smell like normal fish, instead of rancid rotting flesh?

With the giant and the monster in the throes of a push and a pull, it was the perfect time to strike. She took her time this time, making sure her blow was lined up, making sure she wouldn’t hit the giant. Slam. Her blade forced its way into the creature’s temple, the decaying flesh making a squelching noise as she turned the knife to make sure it was extra dead. The creature’s arms went limp, and it was like the water around them was getting warmer. Ew, did the giant pee himself? Gross. Unbeknownst to Nora, the cooling powers of the creature they had just killed, despite the cold she’d been exposed to. Nora started dragging the two of them back to shore, as much as she could with her limited strength. “Help me get this to shore.” Nora instructed, as if she hadn’t just watched the giant fighting for his life. “You gotta take a picture of me with it. My boss is going to be so fucking proud.” 

When it seemed as though Marcus was a goner, and his vision started to fade to white, he heard the distinctive sound of a blade piercing through flesh and bone, a horrific screech, and finally felt the tight grip of the monster release him. He still felt incredibly weak and chilled to the bone, but he was at least able to keep his eyes open. He felt himself being dragged back to the shore. Was she doing that? He could hardly believe somebody her size had the strength to carry him back to land, although he was grateful for the help all the same. 

Marcus was still very much in a daze, and was only barely able to stand himself up. It took him a minute to process what the girl was saying. 

“Your…boss?” He had wondered who would have hired her and what they would hire her for. Why would they be proud that she killed this…whatever it was instead of horrified? He looked at the corpse, now killed once again. He wasn’t sure if it was truly dead or if it would reanimate again at a moment’s notice like some cheap jumpscare at the end of a zombie movie. But still, she wanted a picture and, seeing as she saved his life, he felt he should oblige her. Marcus’s phone was left in the lighthouse; he knew better than to take it near the water with him after losing too many to water damage. He gestured for her to hand him her phone so he could take the picture on it. He couldn’t help but notice her beaming excitement as she posed, which was in stark contrast to his own exhaustion. After checking to make sure there was no blur from his still trembling hands, he handed the phone back to her. 

“Well, I guess that solves that mystery. I wish it didn’t have to come so close to killing us though,” he remarked, stealing another glance at the monster to make sure it was truly staying down. He learned you can never be too cautious when it came to the undead. “I appreciate your help, and I probably owe you more than just a few hams now. I’ll try and get some for you soon, if I’m taking too long you know where to find me. We did good work today Nora, thank you again.” With that he extended a wet and shaky hand out to the girl in hopes she would accept the handshake.

Nora had raced to the shore to grab her phone, then raced back to the corpse, tossing her phone to the giant. She posed in front of it in the same peace sign pose she’d used in front of that ghoul. With the picture taken, and her phone back in her hands, Nora stared down at the corpse. “Do you need to burn that? Or do you think it’ll just… go away?” Nora asked. “You better do something with it before the cops show up. They ruin everything.” This had been a good outing. She didn’t get three hams, just two. But she did get the satisfaction of another successful hunt. That was good enough.

The giant was holding out his hand, and Nora, in a pleasant mood, decided she could be polite. Her hand wrapped around his in a firm handshake. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Giant.” Her made up name for him had embedded itself deeply enough in her mind, was there really a point in asking for his real one? He could just change his name to the one she chose for him if it bothered him. 

“Hopefully this means the old man will be able to move on, and you’ll have a ghost free light house.” Nora’s gaze returned to the ocean. Was there disappointment that it hadn’t been mermaids? Yeah. Now she was forced to have the knowledge that drowned corpses came back to life with foot fetishes. If you left your feet too close to the water, they would come up and grab you under the water. Plus now she needed to go home and change. Possibly stop at someone's house to shower. “I’ll be back to pick up hams every now and then.” The man had offered more, and Nora was not going to turn down free food. “Just keep them handy for when I drop in.” 

“It’s Marcus, actually.” Marcus cautiously looked down and realized just how much taller he was than the girl standing in front of him. “I suppose we probably should burn it. It seemed to want warmth anyway, so that’s exactly what we’ll give it. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that part, you’ve done enough”. He glanced over at the creature again, not exactly looking forward to disposing of the body. 

“If there’s any more weird shit going down over here, I’ll be sure to give you another call. Seems like we make a good team.”  

With that, he watched Nora go her own way, as he set out to gather what he needed to dispose of the corpse. Unsurprisingly, it would be a little tricky to burn a body without drawing attention, but he knew he’d figure it out. Right now, he was grateful to still have his life.

[diamondsableye]

Two page spread I made for my college final

This was a college final portfolio piece I presented just recently. The class itself was about character design and how to go from a character description, to 2D artwork, then finally a 3D model optimized for animation purposes. It was A LOT and this piece represents probably a minimum of 50 hours of work.

To provide some added context about the world (below the cut)

This is a world where the biblical creation story of genesis is in fact true, (though instead of 6000 years ago it’s an unspecified “somewhere in the distant past”) however, animals took of the fruit of knowledge instead of humans, who never came to be. (which means that fungi took the role of most animals, because it would be weird for me to include anthropomorphic sapient animals alongside non anthro, non sapient counterparts.)

I’m currently working on rewriting parts of the bible for fun, and have come to the conclusion that there should be an extra two books between genesis and exodus (iterations and emergence respectively), which describe in further detail how most “kinds” of animals came to be, (a kind is a group somewhere between species family and species order, so using the same terminology as a biblical kind, but with a different meaning since a biblical kind describes what a creature does not what a creature is which is why whales are classified as fish and bats and locusts are (depending on the translation and passage) “swarming kinds” or “flying kinds”, and sometimes also considered birds.)

If I were to magically get funding or a team behind me (which as awesome as that would be I’m not really in a position to manage for the foreseeable future), the plot of the RPG would go a little something like this: “you play as a barn owl catholic priest who has traveled to the American southwest during the 1880s, (well technically for me anything between the 1860s to the 1910s is fair game, since that’s usually considered the timespan of the “American wild west”), and you seek to seal the gates of hell which have opened up near the quiet town of Haven, which has brought forth many daemons and monsters from the other side. Through your travels you meet Rust, alongside a Jackalope named Cruz, and a Kestrel named Lucia. Throughout your journey you help townsfolk, freeing them from opportunistic bandits as well as all forms of supernatural terrors, while at the same time exploring how religion intersects with issues of race, gender, sexuality, and morality itself.”

I have a lot more in store planned for this project, and I’m happy to answer more questions, but that’s all I’m willing to divulge in a single comment for disclosure sake, since I’m cautious when it comes to potential IP theft. Thank you for understanding!

Edit to add: forgot to mention this, but obviously since all characters are animals, "race" and of course racism is handled a lot differently. I have this graph showing largely how society at large sees the different animal groups, and the closest parallel I can draw to this when it comes to religion is early Mormon views (Curse of Cain and Curse of Ham respectively, basically black people are just born morally and spiritually inferior.)

[will-it-blend]

[blog info]:

[WARNING: Will likely go on a hiatus until next summer.]

[NOTE: This blog is AGAINST art theft + AI art being used for profit and to replace artists. I do not consent to my art being used to train AI, or to my art being traced, altered or anything similar, unless a specific post openly states otherwise.]

This post may be updated in the future.

[About This Blog]:

Welcome to the will-it-blend blog. This blog is a side profile made for art and art related posts, so if you'd like to see more posts that aren't about OCs or character art, please check out my main blog here-comes-astro. If you wouldn't like to see posts from this blog, you can block the tag #herecomesastro or simply block the account as a whole.

This account's owner does FREE art [although anything you might want to give in return is appreciated, such as art trades etc.], including requests. If you'd like to see art of a character, you can send an ask or private message telling me the name of the character, the media they're from and [optionally] the prompt you'd like to see. Multiple requests from the same person/at once are OK.

[About The Owner Of This Blog]:

Call me Astro. Non-binary + Any pronouns [go ham with it] + Any honorifics. :]

The [vocal/written] languages I speak are:

Uzbek [Native] [Fluent]

Turkish [Native] [Fluent]

English [Kinda native?][Fluent]

You can preferably send requests or DMs using the languages above.

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[Discord]: @HereComesAstro-!

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[Wattpad]: @g4l4ct1c-t34rs

[AO3]: @g4l4ct1c-t34rs

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Given Jail Sentence On Charges of Theft," Kingston Whig-Standard. May 4, 1934. Page 5. ---- Trial at Napanee of Two Men Who Broke Into Cottages --- NAPANEE, May 4- Taken in custody a few days ago by Provincial Officer F. W. Barrett and each one facing two charges, John Downs and Herman Munroe of Prince Edward County were each sentenced to three months in the common jail by Magistrate M. P. Graham on Thursday, the sentences to run concurrently.

The first charge preferred against the men was breaking and entering by day the summer home of Judge and Mrs. J. E. Madden, in Adolphustown, and the second charge was that they unlawfully did steal various articles, including bedding, dishes, gramophone, tools and other articles.

Downs and Munroe elected to be tried by Magistrate Graham and immediately pleaded guilty to both charges, although Munroe did not plead guilty to the theft of the tools. The thefts occurred sometime between January 1st and February 28th of this year.

James Shelley, sworn, said that he had looked after the summer home for Judge Madden and had visited the house on two occasions. The witness had found the shutters removed and the glass broken and on investigation had found the interior of the house topsy turvy.

The table in the police court was well filled with various articles and these Judge Madden identified as his property. Judge and Mrs. Madden had also visited the homes of the two men where they had seen their articles which had been taken. William Durnford, provincial officer in Prince Edward County, said that he had accompanied Judge and Mrs. Madden to the homes of the two men. Asked as to the records of the two men, the witness said that to his knowledge they had never been in the Picton Police Court.

Provincial Officer Barrett said that he had made two trips to Adolphustown and one to Prince Edward County. "I had considerable trouble to secure information," said Mr. Barrett, "and the accused men did not admit anything to me."

K. S. Ham, Crown Attorney, referred to the prevalence of such cases and remarked: "It seems a pity that when owners of summer homes lock their homes for the winter, breaking and entering, together with theft, should occur during the interim.

Guilty parties should be given salutary lessons, in order to be a deterrent to others," said Mr. Ham. Magistrate Graham fully agreed with the remarks of Mr. Ham, after which he announced the sentences, which will date from April 26th.

The accused men are both married and each has a family of one.

[rauthschild]

There are numerous layers of Peacekeepers at work in America; these men and women differ from Law Enforcement Officers (LEOs) and occupy both concurrent and, in some cases, separate jurisdictions from LEOs.

Peacekeepers enforce the Law of the Land in international jurisdictions, and the Law of the Soil in national jurisdiction. They also interface with their counterparts operating in the international jurisdiction of the sea (Maritime Commerce) and the global jurisdiction of Admiralty.

Our Autochthonous American Government has superior concurrent general jurisdiction on air, land and sea. This means that our courts are enabled to judge both the Law itself, and the facts of any case brought before it.

American Admiralty does exist and we do have the ability to consider maritime and Admiralty issues with a few strictly limited exceptions delegated to our British Territorial Federal Subcontractors.

Our Peacekeepers uphold the international Law of the Land (Constitutions included), County Law (Law of the Nation) and State Law; they interface with Law Enforcement Officers in the international jurisdictions of the Sea (Maritime and Admiralty) and global jurisdiction of the Air (Roman Civil Law, Law Merchant) who enforce State-of-State Statutes, Administrative Codes, Regulatory Codes, Municipal Codes, Military Codes, and so on.

The important distinction to be made is that our Peacekeepers and courts enforce the actual Law, while Law Enforcement Personnel deal in Code Enforcement.

Our Continental Marshals are filling the spot vacated by the Federal Marshals Service: International Land Jurisdiction. Their expertise is international crimes committed on the land and soil, including human trafficking, interstate bank fraud, counterfeiting, contraband smuggling, interstate identity theft, credit fraud, embezzlement between two or more States, inland piracy, and similar crimes.

The thing to keep in mind is that Continental Marshals are international/interstate officers. Two or more States or foreign nations have to be involved in their investigations and enforcement activities. They can travel freely between States and carry on multiple investigations in diverse locations at once.

The Continental Marshals can be called upon for assistance including multi-state investigations and armed enforcement operations in their international jurisdiction. They are the guys to call when you need to bust an international child trafficking ring, interstate smuggling, multi-state racketeering, and similar crimes that may be impacting your State.

The Peacekeeping Task Force is similarly an international/interstate organization chartered by our Federation of States. PKTF's job is to network the various levels of Peacekeepers together, interface with and educate new Peacekeepers and Law Enforcement Officers, encourage cooperation and when necessary, enable joint operations.

If a Hurricane devastates a multi-state area, like Hurricane Katrina did in the Gulf States a few years ago, so that lives are endangered, utilities severed, and looting is rampant --- the PKTF will be able to quickly provide emergency communications and pull in help across a broad spectrum of local, state, federal and private organizations, deftly providing for their coordination and service delivery.

If there is ever an armed incursion, such as an invasion through Canada, the PKTF will be able to use their boots on the ground, their ham radio network, and other affiliated resources to coordinate military, militia, and peacekeeper response operations.

Our Unincorporated County Sheriffs are Peacekeepers holding the highest Peacekeeping Office in the country; they literally outrank all other Peacekeeping and Law Enforcement Officers, within the borders of the County they are elected to serve.

In addition to these Peacekeeping Officers and Elected Officials, we have Land Jurisdiction Marshals at Arms who are responsible for the security of our State Assemblies and State Assembly Militias that may be Deputized to engage in Peacekeeping operations.

We hope this gives everyone a clear and explicit picture of the authorities, jurisdictions of operation, and functions of our Peacekeepers as presently organized. These forces are all unincorporated and are operating on behalf of the American Public in the interests of Public Safety.

All Code systems, Municipal, Territorial, Federal, or State-of-State or otherwise, including Administrative Code, function via constructive contract, not law.

(Self v. Rhay, 61 Wa. 2nd, 261, 264-65, (Washington, 1963).

[weightloss15days]

Shohei Ohtani says he's sad and shocked over Mizuhara's gambling and theft allegations

Baseball sensation Shohei Ohtani revealed on Monday that he was unaware until recently of the alleged involvement of his now-dismissed interpreter, Ippei Mizuhara, in gambling and theft activities.

In his initial public address regarding the controversy shadowing the start of MLB's 2024 season, the Japanese-born Ohtani, speaking through an interpreter, expressed his dismay and shock upon learning about the accusations. The Dodgers terminated Mizuhara's employment last week after Ohtani's representatives disclosed that they had uncovered extensive theft targeting Ohtani, prompting them to escalate the matter to the authorities.

During a press briefing broadcasted live on the MLB Network from the team's interview room, Ohtani clarified that he has never engaged in sports betting. He further asserted, "Ippei has been embezzling funds from my account and spreading falsehoods." Ohtani revealed that Mizuhara was facing financial troubles but misrepresented the situation to Ohtani's representatives and the public, suggesting that Ohtani was settling debts on behalf of a friend.

Expressing his emotions, Ohtani stated, "To sum up my current state, I am utterly stunned. It's challenging to articulate my feelings at this juncture." He mentioned that his legal advisors recommended involving the authorities in the theft and fraud investigation, emphasizing his full cooperation with ongoing inquiries.

Ohtani conveyed his intention to allow his legal team to handle the matter while he focuses on his game, remarking, "I am eager to concentrate on the season, and I appreciate the opportunity to address this issue."

Ohtani declined to entertain questions from the media following his statement, which lasted approximately 10 minutes.

Later in the day, the Dodgers hosted an exhibition game against the Los Angeles Angels. Dodgers manager Dave Roberts expressed support for Ohtani's decision to address the issue publicly, stating, "I think it's the right thing to do. I'm pleased he's speaking out, providing insight into what he knows and sharing his thoughts on the situation."

Ohtani, a two-time American League MVP, signed a lucrative $700 million contract with the Dodgers during the off-season.

Investigations into the matter are ongoing. Mizuhara admitted to ESPN investigative reporter Tisha Thompson that he incurred substantial gambling debts, allegedly with an illegal gambling ring overseen by Mathew Bowyer in Orange County, Calif. Neither Mizuhara nor Bowyer has been charged with any offense.

The Los Angeles field office of the IRS's criminal investigation division confirmed its involvement in the investigation concerning Mathew Bowyer and Ippei Mizuhara.

Meanwhile, MLB stated that it is investigating the allegations involving Shohei Ohtani and Ippei Mizuhara. Major League Baseball imposes severe penalties on individuals involved in betting on baseball, a violation regulated under Rule 21 on misconduct.

Key questions remain unanswered regarding Mizuhara's conflicting statements about the coverage of his gambling losses. Thompson reported that Mizuhara initially claimed that Ohtani had agreed to settle his gambling debts and even facilitated wire transfers, but subsequently retracted his statements, prompting Ohtani's legal team to assert that their client was a victim of extensive theft.

Ippei Mizuhara, aged 39, hails from Japan and reportedly met Ohtani during the latter's tenure with the Hokkaido Nippon-Ham Fighters in the Nippon Professional Baseball league. Mizuhara served as a translator for the team and later accompanied Ohtani to the MLB as his interpreter. Their close relationship has been evident throughout Ohtani's career, including Mizuhara's participation in the 2021 All-Star Game's home run derby as Ohtani's catcher.

When the Dodgers unveiled Ohtani as their newest acquisition three months ago, Mizuhara stood alongside him onstage. Play-by-play announcer Joe Davis introduced him as "Shohei's interpreter — primarily Shohei's best friend, close companion — Ippei Mizuhara."

[cu-riogach]

God has cursed the Israel State and is bringing upon it its doom as punishment for all its accumulated sins, starting from the massacre and land theft of 1948 that birthed the State of Israel itself up to the massacre and land theft of today. Wretched be those people who know they are walking the path of hell-dwellers but do not desist. Will you walk with them or will you turn to a better path?

It was God who bid the Hebrews conquer that land that thousand years ago. Why should he punish his chosen for obeying his will? And who am I, but a Gael and no son of Abraham, to judge the Jews for fighting to preserve a strip of land for their own? Did not my people shed blood to preserve their island? God told the Hebrews this was the land promised to them, and bid them conquer it. How can those who obey God's word be sinners? How can they steal what was promised them by God? What path is there but that proscribed by the almighty God? How man mortal man pass judgement upon that which is divinely ordained? And who is any gentile, myself included, to judge that people chosen by God, and who have endured many thousands of years of suffering at the hands of every race of the Earth, be they sons of Shem, Ham, or Japheth? I shall not damn the Palestinians who fight for want they consider their right, but neither shall I damn God's own, for his will is their deed, and Abraham is their sire.

[mttstructures]

What Is Camp Fashion? 2019 Met Gala Theme, Defined

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Virgil Abloh for Off-White is one more designer who unapologetically employs camp influences in his designs. His signature use of quotation marks, for instance, provides an ironic twist to what would in any other case be a standard sweatshirt or a pair of sneakers. All-fiberglass, ultralight Topo-2 off-road travel trailer proves that comfort and stylishness can go alongside with durability even on unbeaten paths. In 1966 Aladdin got here out with a small canned-ham mannequin generally recognized as Hideaway with a length of 13 feet 7 inches.

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October 29 and 30 it is possible for you to to go to Sam Boyd Stadium and enjoy a variety of musical talent. Including; Dave Matthews, Jack Johnson, Beck, Trey Anastasio, the Arcade Fire, Primus, the Flaming Lips, Talib Kweli, Blackalicious and lots of more. During today you may also take pleasure in a wide variety of actions and events. Fresh from the Burning Man Festival will be Vau de Vire's Twisted Cabaret Circus Tent that will showcase circus performers, aerialists, burlesque, and main edge musical acts just like the Barry Syska Orchestra, which is an old-school Vaudeville six-piece band.

[renatedagmarmilada]

all change

When Palmerston was in power, they shot the Chinese out of their own country for refusing to buy Opium the British traded and sent from India. This was to pay for the Indian Empire, which Britain wanted to keep but could not afford with the high cost of the upkeep of its Army even with all the ‘theft’ from everywhere..remember this was the time when every house in England possessed something from India, where, when soldiers plundered, the natives were not allowed to complain..also don’t forget, after each battle -village and town – the English Army was allowed to rape and loot for an hour or two, then the sergeant blew the whistle and they ‘stopped’. Parliament decided to take the Indian serving them in the Army to slaughter the Chinese on their own land. The Chinese had not caused anyone any bother, but they did not want to trade in opium, the Emperor even cut off the head of his cousin for using it to try to stop the addiction, nor did they want the British setting up trading posts there – hang on, whose country was it? Now when starving Muslims use the crop for money, all hell breaks lose.

When an emotional Imam calls for the death of the enemy in a Mosque, (o.k. not nice) it is international news.. I taught English Lit to school kids in London about a decade ago and remember one year at the back of their study book was a prayer said in Westminster Cathedral during the war: Dear God, please kill the Germans! Youngsters were being taught to hate the Germans who are partners in the E.U. and pay for a heck of a lot in Europe… Was that very much different to the Imam in Egypt? When I taught English Language and Lit at East Ham College, part of my curriculum was to teach ‘The Diary of Anne Frank.’ Now no disrespect to Anne Frank, but that happened over the water over half a century ago and had no relevance to these new citizens I was teaching who were here and now, desperate to become familiar with this country and become loyal to its calling. What would teaching them war time hatred do in this cause? I spoke to my line-manager and asked if I could teach ENGLISH Literature, as English is what I taught, which has a wonderful literary tradition..He agreed, I taught ’’Wuthering Heights” instead, which is a wonderful novel..giving real insight to a segment of British history..and found shortly afterwards, that he was doing likewise. My daughter, now a d-head was a philosophy and theology student at the only Catholic University on the island and taught Religious Studies. Her curriculum also included the Diary of Anne Frank. What has that poor girl’s life got to do with religion in this day and age. It just fans up embers of hatred which should have been allowed to go out. Are we one Continent or not? Navel scratching till it bleeds is not the best method of educating.

Do the rules magically change according to the user!

[yallwildinrn]

Just tacking this onto this post. Thanks for tagging me, Mawce & @pippinoftheshire!!

Snake in the Grass - Man who peaked in high school heals his inner demons by healing his inner demons. Now including an inhuman amount of themes!

I Love You Illya Kuryakin - Solo discovers new and exciting ways to ruin his life (and his (oblivious) boyfriend’s life) with lying, fraud, theft, and more! Oh yeah, there’s a love story in there too, I guess.

[Unnamed Perseverance Installment #3] - Did you know there are 27 bones in the hand? And that 19% of them are broken in Illya’s?

(Alternatively: Hand trauma. Is so fucking complex. Do you know how much research I’ve done? How many hours I’ve spent reading medical resources? Do you know how many kinds of SPLINTS there are? I do. At least I finally get to utilize some of it now ffs.)

Baseless Pleasures - KGB officer is SO horny for his boss. His boss is horny right back. Smut ensues.

Tagging: tbh I’m too tired to tag, so go fucking ham. Open tag. Free for all. Yes, even you. Just tag me if you do this, I wanna see ur bad WIP summaries and im so serious about that

I fucking love this idea, it's so funny, so I'm stealing @fvlmen 's open tag for

Summarizing My WIPs Badly

1) "To Find Someone To Talk To, Who Likes The Way I Am" - Local dumbass sulks over a not-local bartender for 23K words.

2) "I Am Your Lover (I Am Your Jailor)" - Illegitimate prince taken from streets. The castle thinks a guard is married to a girl. He is gay. Guard falls for illegitimate prince because of his dumbassery

3) [Unnamed Avian Ficlet #1] - Alouette, je te plumerai

4) "An American Werewolf In London" [may or may not finish/post] - Big hairy man gets hairy-er.

5) "Michelin Star Spy" - The best part about this WIP is the name 😭 Will return to the hijinks of a food critic-turned-"spy" when I have learned enough about food-critic-ing

6) [Unnamed Avian Fic #2] - Birdie wanna feather???

No pressure tagging @yallwildinrn @pippinoftheshire @huggiebird @heytheredeann @cha-melodius @nicijones and anyone else who wants to join!!!

[hale-13]

Happy FWFF! 

Can you use give a list of three of your favorite fics that you've read and share a few lines from them while also using a GIF to describe what you feel when you see them updated? 

Happy (late again) FFWF!!

I’m going to include everything below the cut so I don’t clog up anyone’s dash because I can ramble about fic refs for actual years.

The Exception by @blondsak is just… I mean holy shit what more could you ask for? I love it when someone takes a pretty well established trope, appendicitis in this case, and spins it around. Perfect characterization, some fun irondad moments and a metric fuck ton of whump. My schedule is generally a hot mess week to week and I think most people have a posting schedule and I’m pretty sure they do too but it always is a surprise and delight to see an update and has me feeling a mix of the gifs below:

Identity Crisis by @kitcat992 The first work in this series, Identity Theft, just feels like a staple of the fandom to me. I can’t tell you how many times I have lost an entire day reading or re-reading one of these two fics. I love when people incorporate some of the other Spidey villains we don’t normally get to see and I love seeing the Avengers as more of an actual cohesive unit. Plus add in some amazingly written May Parker? Sigh me up.

And, lastly but certainly not least, anything (and I mean freaking anything seriously) written by Gruoch but I went absolutely ham over their (now completed) work Surrender (but don’t give yourself away). The absolute chaos that is Peter Parker/Johnny Storm always gets me. I’m also a massive fan of their series In the merry month of June - the realism of an adult Peter/MJ dealing with adult garbage and a baby? Absolute perfection. I go crazy when I see an update on anything from them in my inbox!

This list was obscenely hard to compile BTW - I hate picking favs because I just love everything but these are the ones that I am excited about/have been re-reading recently. :)

[xpostbeats]

Welcome to whatever Fresh hell this is!

I am your guide, Retr0 (Or Ham, if you want to use the Sona name.)

I am 26 years old, and go by He/Him pronouns.

This blog may contain adult content Such As:

Swearing

Violence

Nudity

Blood

It will Not contain:

Pornographic content

Some disclaimers  !

All art present as POSTED directly by me is MY artwork that I’ve drawn myself.

If an art piece is not, in fact, my own I will go out of my way to make it obvious and give a clear and concise source.

You MAY NOT:

TRACE my artwork

EDIT my artwork

REPOST my artwork to ANY site, including Tumblr itself.

You MAY:

REBLOG my content

LIKE my content (just don’t like everything I’ve ever posted in one sitting. That floods my notifs :( )

If you are caught tracing, editing, or reposting my artwork, I will not hesitate to block you through all available channels and cut off your access to my work to the best of my ability.

Theft of my content will not be tolerated.