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bugsy-maria · 4 years ago

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Chat Noir x Reader Part 2

I didn't bother to fight back, it was almost like Chat telling me that he hated me drained me of all of the energy I had and more. I saw as the Akuma delicately landed on my collar. the collar never was a part of the main costume but instead, it was added by me because I liked the look of it.

the Akuma vanished and Hawk Moth's voice filled my head.

"Dark Fang, I am hawkmoth. I will grant you the power to make the world that had wronged you countless times your own playground."

I felt the clothing that I wore disappear into new tight clothing. my tube top turned into a strapless bra with a ribcage design. a corset pinched my sides gently and was blended into a short puffy black skirt. I had no shoes only thigh-high socks. and my hair was no longer long and puffy but instead a short bob. the leather band of the collar was turned into just a string that held a now white metal disk with the name, 'Togo' engraved on the back. I touched my hair, feeling a different sensation on my scalp, there were now soft ears atop my hair.

it was now that I took in what Hawkmoth said. "the world that had wronged you countless times" he was right. I was nothing but good to other people and all I got was nothing. the world took my family away from me, the world took Chat away from me, the world made me who I am but the world hates who I am.

I stand up, rain and hail falling harder that it starts to break car windows. the world needs to start over again to fix what has been down. people have ruined the world, humans have stained the world with the worst things imaginable. everyone except Adrien. Adrien did no wrong. he doesn't deserve to be punished. I swiftly make my way to Adrien's home. jumping up to a long-forgotten open window. I run through the halls till I reach Adrien's all too familiar door.

I open it to see him with his hands tangled in his blonde locks as he sat at his desk.

"Adrien," I spoke up, causing him to shoot up from his original position at his desk.

"Togo? what are you doing here?"

"I'm not Togo, I'm Dark Fang now."

"You're akumatized?!" his eyes widened.

"Mmmm." I hummed taking my seat at his bed. "And you know what? it's you're fault." I smiled at him.

"What did I do?"

"You told me to tell that guy that I loved him," I paused to stare at the scared look on his face. "He hates me now, he said that he loves Ladybug too much." I got on all fours on his bed and crawled my way over to him, causing him to back up.

"(Y/N)!?" he pushed the chair in front of him.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Adrien, I'm going to save you."

"I don't need to be saved by a villain." his voice now stern.

"But we could watch the world go back the way it was before!" I started to get angry at him, my voice getting rougher. I mean why would he rather die with all these people who do wrong, than come and stay safe with me.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Fine, hope you have fun drowning Adrien." I unemotionally said. I blew harsh winds so strong that they broke windows all over the world. rain rushed into the room as I jumped out of his room and onto a nearby building. I watched it from the Montparnasse Tower. thunder was now heard everywhere, and the only source of light for this half of the earth. I sat and watched as the world flooded below me.

I stuck out my hand in front of me and grew a single intense red rose out of it. I picked the flower from my palm and rolled it in between my fingertips.

"Togo! You need to stop this!" I heard Ladybug shout. I increased the wind at her, blowing her off the tower.

"Togo! Don't take it out on her!" I heard Chat shout at me, and his feet running after Ladybug. I looked at the rose then at the now flooded city below me. the rain stops as the sun comes out, the sun evaporates the water below us. the heat is ineffective to me, but when I look at LAdybug and Chat Noir I see that they are sweating so much that they could barely walk at a normal pace.

I raise my hand at them and flick cool air in their direction, I kept the air blowing at them to keep them from dying. they were the only friends I had, even if they did hate me.

"Why are you helping us?" Ladybug asked, swinging her Yo-yo ready to attack in case I did. her lucky charm long forgotten in the corner of the rooftop.

"You are my only friends left, thought we could share this new world."

"We aren't your friends anymore." I looked at Ladybug, then at the chat. his face showed that of regret. he must have known that he was the reason for this right?

"When I don't need you here anymore," venom leaked off of my words. I clenched my fist tight, taking the air away from her. her hands flew up to her neck, her yo-yo falling to the ground. I quickly used my wind to blow it to me. the sounds of her choking on her blood filling lungs were getting annoying but I knew it wouldn't be long before those sounds would stop.

"NOOOOOO!!!!!!!" I heard Chat scream his lungs out, he quickly caught Ladybug's head when she fell. I saw the tears fall down his face. the love of my life was crying over the death of another girl. the love of my life was crying over the death of another girl because of me. I caused those tears. I'm the reason for his pain. the pain he put me through, I am now putting him through.

suddenly I stopped seeing the world in black and white, the good and bad. I saw what I saw before, shades of grey. I had managed to fight off the Akuma with my feeling, I felt tears falling on my face upon seeing chat noir cry and Ladybug dead. the only friends I had besides Adrian and Marinette. I knew I wouldn't have much time left, but I couldn't break my Akuma because then it would go to Chat. I had to try the lucky charm.

I looked in my hand with my blurry vision, it was her yo-yo. I used the yo-yo to try and grab the lucky charm that lays on the other side of the building, I knew I didn't have the time to walk across. the lucky charm got to me. I could only pray that it would work for me too. Ladybug and I both have the power of creation after all.

"Stop! You'll never-" he cut himself off once he saw me. once he saw how broken I was, how I was showing emotion, and how the tears that spilled from my eyes and onto my cheeks were genuine.

"Pray that it works." I stared into his eyes and I knew that once I said that and once he saw the lucky charm in my hands he knew what I was talking about. "My collar, Lucky charm!" I shouted, throwing the object into the air. I saw ladybugs shoot out. the mess I made disappearing.

Black and White.

I saw as ladybugs repaired the beginnings of the new beginning.

"Cataclysm!" I heard from behind me, I turned around to see Chat holding out his hand. he reached out and before I could move he caught my collar. I fell to the ground, suddenly feeling dizzy, while I watched my clothing slowly disappear and turn back to what it was before. I looked around me to see Ladybug and Chat staring at me.

"I'm so sorry, and I know that no matter how much I say it nothing will get any better." my voice was shaky and broke during the sentence.

"It's ok Togo." Ladybug kneeled in front of me.

"Don't call me that, I don't deserve it," I said, standing up, keeping my head hung low.

"Then what do you want us to call you?" I heard Chat say from in front of me.

"You won't be calling me anything kitty." I smiled up at him, "besides I have to go now. Meet you guys at our spot? regular time?" I asked hopefully. they nodded and I fell from the building. my wind gently carrying me down to the ground. I ran to an alley.

"Balto, stop running," I mumbled lowly. I walked back to my flat near the Eiffel Tower. I quickly grabbed the box that my miraculous came in. "Goodbye friend." I smiled at Balto. a gray wolf kwamii. I slid the bracelet off my wrist and placed it in the box. I left my home, making my way to the spot we always met at, with no intention of meeting them.

~~~~~~~~~~

the walk home felt like decades. I tread up the stairs of the building I lived in. I took out my keys and unlocked my door. I turned on the lights to my empty home. I walked over to my room, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

I pushed open my bedroom door, the lights still on from when I left. but this time something was different. there was an all too familiar black kitty in my room, rummaging around my desk drawers.

"Kitty?" I clearly didn't think of my words carefully.

"Ahh!" his head quickly shot up as he pushed the drawer closed. "Togo, there you are."

"I told you to stop calling me that." I slumped on my bed still facing him. "And how do you know who I am!?" my eyes widened once the situation dawned upon me.

"A little birdy told me who you were." he rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway, brought something of yours." he sat at my desk chair, placing the box I just got rid of on my desk.

"I returned it."

"And I'm returning it."

"I don't want it."

"Why not?" we were glaring into each other's eyes.

"Did you not see what happened today?"

"We all have those days."

"No one has this kind of day. I was weak and vulnerable. I killed Ladybug!"

"Dark Fang killed Ladybug."

"I am Dark Fang! and it's not like either of you guys want me to be on your team anymore anyway. You hate me and I'm not your guys' friend anymore."

"I didn't mean that." he walked over to me, taking a seat next to me on my bed.

"Sure seemed like you did."

"I was just angry that you were right is all. Ladybug doesn't like me back but I still keep trying no matter how little hope I had. I just hated that you always had that hope, you never once had a bad day. at least that's what I thought."

"it's always been Ladybug and Chat noir. there was never room for me."

"I do like the sound of Chat noir and his two ladies." he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, the touch setting flames to my skin. "Don't you?"

"Only if I can be your only lady," I replied cockily.

"Sure, but would you love me because I'm your best friend or because I'm Chat Noir?"

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@laic2299 @aproudfangirl13

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muertawrites · 5 years ago

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Two Halves - Chapter Five (Zuko x Reader)

Part Four

Word Count: 3,300

Author’s Note: I was up until 4am finishing this on Thursday night, and honestly, the way my single brain cell was barely functioning at that point, I’m surprised this even got done, let alone that it got done relatively well. We’re also getting super close to 1,000 followers, so if you like this series or any of my other works, PLEASE subscribe! I’ve got some fun stuff planned once we get there that I’m really excited to start planning!

~ Muerta

Despite their rocky beginning, your first few weeks as Lady of the Fire Nation go surprisingly well. After your conflict with Advisor Lin, everyone begins to treat you with newfound respect - even Zuko. Your first breakfast together was the last time he advised any of your aids to be moderate or keep their distance from you, instead encouraging them to speak to you as directly as they would him, openly reproving them when they treat you as if you aren't capable of grasping everything they face you with; of course, you very much feel like you aren't, remaining stoic during morning briefings in the dining room while inwardly panicking, hearing everything but only able to decipher about half of it. You’re lucky you’re still shadowing the Firelord, learning your place and duties; once you’re sent out on your own, you have a feeling you’ll drown before you even get the chance to tread water.

Protective as he is, Sokka arranges to stay in the palace until you’re completely settled, stating that it’s his duty as the chief ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe; you know that the real reason is because he’s worried to death about you, trying his hardest to keep up the tough, unflappable big brother act for nobody's sake but his own. Toph also decides to extend her trip, quite concerned herself but mostly using the political tension as an excuse to catch up with you, Zuko, and Iroh - you don't mind, since having her around is an endless comfort to you, and you often invite her to sleep in your room so you can pretend that you’re just two friends enjoying normal young adult lives.

Each day spent in Firelady prep school is a new lesson in what exactly the role means, and you’re quickly finding that it’s much more than observing any of the first ladies of the Water Tribe could have ever prepared you for. They were considered accessories to their chiefs, appearing beside their husbands mostly for aesthetics and only truly serving the purpose of giving birth to sons to take his place; as the Firelord’s wife, you’re seen as an extension of him, and he an extension of you. Your people view you as the monarch and matriarch of a massive, powerful clan, and expect you to live and act in sync with one another for the betterment of your children, both literal and metaphorical. Nation comes before everything, any action that could suggest intentions otherwise criticized with the utmost scrutiny; disgrace is all too easy, while honor seems near impossible.

You have tea with Zuko every night before bed; the more you learn about the culture of his upbringing, the more you empathize with his younger self.

“I understand now why you were so angry,” you admit to him one night. “They make you feel as if just being human were a mistake. I'm already frustrated - I can't imagine what seventeen years of it was like.”

Zuko hums, his face taking on a wistful, somber expression.

“That's what my father did to me,” he explains. “Everything was wrong, even if it was what felt natural.”

He takes your hand in his, his thumb grazing over your knuckles as he gazes off in thought.

“We can change that, though,” he tells you. “Things already feel better with you here.”

For a country that just ended a century long war in which they were the main aggressor, you would think that your advisors would put more energy into matters of diplomatic affairs than your image.

“I'm just uncertain what a choice like this could make the nation feel,” Advisor Yong says. “We’re already walking a very delicate line.”

You stand in one of the palace’s many meeting parlors with Zuko, Advisors Yong and Sung, Sokka, Iroh, and the royal seamstress, pouring over multiple yards of fabric she's brought for the robes that will immortalize you in your wedding portrait. For the past forty-five minutes, you've been debating whether you should be pictured wearing Fire Nation or Water Tribe clothes - the proceedings have been dismal at best.

“The representation of our tribe is important to our people,” Sokka replies to Advisor Yong. “We’ve been small for decades, and mostly because of the Fire Nation - she should wear a traditional dress.”

“But certain people in our nation are still very put off by the idea of a foreign queen,” Advisor Yong argues. “A man was already killed over the matter; embracing it so fully could spark anger and endanger her and the Firelord even more.”

In the time you've spent with Advisor Yong, she's grown to be your favorite of anyone within the royal council. Her small stature and plump, motherly features make her seem gentle and subdued, but her kindness only runs so deep; when faced with confrontation, she's like an angry bull - fierce, but in a way that's so swift and graceful, you barely notice her goring into you until she's shredded you to pieces. She's been one of your most supportive council members as well, guiding you in matters of proper Fire Nation etiquette and culture and sticking her neck out farther than could possibly be expected to keep you safe. You can see Sokka getting irritable, but you know she speaks with a voice that only has your best interests in mind.

“Perhaps we should consider the external perception,” Advisor Sung suggests. His soft spoken manner is a welcome reprieve from the increasing bitterness in Yong and Sokka’s tones. “Yes, it's quite important that the Southern Tribe is recognized, and doing so will present a compassionate image of our nation. On the other hand, however, having our lord and lady in different traditional dress could suggest division; picturing them as the same would imply a more unified pair.”

“Maybe we should put Zuko in a Water Tribe outfit,” you suggest flatly. “Make it look like we’re pushing you guys around for a change.”

Zuko snickers beside you, raising a hand to his mouth to (ineffectively) stifle the sound under the guise of a cough. The rest of the room is deathly silent, its occupants either oblivious to your sarcasm or deeply unamused by it.

“I believe what our lady is trying to convey,” Iroh chimes in, “is that we have hardly taken her own thoughts into consideration. After all, it is her marriage and her people she must represent.”

“Okay, so what do you think?” Sokka prods, turning to you. “Do you want to wear Fire Nation clothes or Water Tribe ones?”

You sigh, dropping your eyes to the mixture of red and blue fabric sprawled out before you.

“Honestly? I don't know,” you confess. “There are too many issues with either choice. I think we need more time to gauge how people react to me just being here before we decide.”

“My lady, I understand,” Advisor Yong says, “but as cautious as we have to be, we can't be too hesitant; you can’t possibly hope to bear children in a few months’ time if we can't come to a decision on something like this in a timely manner.”

You and Zuko both jolt, instinctively backing away from one another.

“Children will come much later,” Zuko sputters, his cheeks turning the same shade as his robes. “Right now we have to focus on getting the people of our nations to agree with each other.”

“And children are an important part of doing so,” Advisor Yong explains. “They’ll serve to physically embody the union of the two nations; the sooner you become pregnant, my lady, the quicker we may resolve the issue.”

“I’m not going to bring a baby into this world just to be a political pawn,” you snap, a bit more harshly than you intend to. “That wouldn’t be fair and I couldn’t do that to my kid.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Zuko glance at you with an expression you can’t quite place. You want to reach for him but restrain yourself, feeling strange about showing him any sort of intimacy with an audience.

“We need to decide what will be done about this portrait before we decide what will be done about heirs,” Iroh agrees. “We should give our lady more time to think on the matter. Could we spare another day?”

Advisors Yong and Sung look to one another, Advisor Sung nodding his compliance. Advisor Yong also concedes, her tone almost apologetic when she speaks.

“Another day will be just fine,” she says. “We’ll leave the final decision to you and your husband, my lady. Have Rina bring your instructions to the seamstress when you’re ready.”

Your stomach flutters manically when you hear the words “your husband”. Advisor Yong has never referred to him as such, only ever calling him “the Firelord”; somehow, coming from her, the title feels much more significant than just the result of an arranged marriage.

You flop down in the grass beside Zuko, burying your face in the sleeves of your robe. He chuckles, tossing another apple peel to the turtle ducks in the courtyard pond.

“At least they’re being nice,” he consoles you. “Advisor Yong called me a coward in front of the whole council when I told her I wasn’t sure about getting married. She was right, but it’s hard getting your ass handed to you by someone who looks like a sweet little grandmother.”

You sigh, rolling over onto your back and tilting your head to look up at him. He gives you a faint, assuring smile, which you can’t help but return.

“I totally understand why you snapped when we were kids,” you tell him. “I’ve been here less than a month and I already want to go apeshit. Did you know that one of our advisors told me to take my betrothal necklace off the other day? The slimy little bastard waited until you left the room to do it, too! He told me it made me look less like a ‘naturalized Fire Nation woman’, and I told him that anyone who expected me to look like one was either stupid or delusional. And what, we need to have kids right way for the sake of political leverage? That’s horrible! What kind of monster brings a child into the world just to use them their whole life??”

You draw back when you notice Zuko’s fallen expression. You’ve sat up by this point, and your near-screaming has scared the turtle ducks to the other side of the pond. You feel your heart drop into your gut, wishing you could take the words back.

“Oh, Zuko,” you breathe. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Zuko shakes his head, closing his eyes and taking a deep, measured breath. You watch his chest rise and fall, his shoulders loosening as he exhales. When he opens his eyes again, he meets yours, the knot between his brows unraveling.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I know. My father was a monster. And my mother… she just did what she was told. I never realized how much she sacrificed for me until she was gone.”

You inch closer to him, warily reaching for his hand. He takes it, lacing his fingers with yours and gently tugging you to sit beside him, reclining against the trunk of an ancient maple tree. He leans into you, clutching your hand tightly.

“Sometimes I wish the worst thing he did to me was use me,” he laments. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have done such awful things to the people who loved me.”

“Zuko,” you whisper, tightly squeezing his hand, “you’re not your father. Just the fact that you asked me to marry you proves that. You didn’t choose your family based on who would make you powerful. You chose me because you love my siblings, and they love you, and that’s exactly why I agreed to be with you. I never met your father, but I know for a fact that he never knew love like you do; he wouldn’t allow himself to because he thought it was weakness. But you’re so much stronger than he is, and could ever be, because Katara and Sokka, Aang and Toph, and Iroh - all of us are here with you. You allow yourself to show weakness in loving us, which is the bravest thing you could ever do. You are nothing like Ozai.”

To your surprise, Zuko smirks at you; the corners of his eyes glimmer with the buds of tears, however, and the rest of his features don’t rise to match the expression on his lips.

“No wonder Uncle likes you so much,” he says. “You sound just like him.”

You scoff, punching him in the shoulder. He laughs, playfully tossing you over his lap and pinching the soft sides of your stomach, an area he discovered was sensitive by accident one day whilst he was walking you through the palace; you giggle hysterically, trying in vain to fend off the attack. He retreats after a little while, sighing as he cradles you in his arms - your head presses to his chest while his chin rests atop your head, hugging you tightly in a way he hasn’t done before. You wrap yourself around him, arms latching about his waist to hold him just as closely.

“I won’t let them pressure us,” he assures you. “We’re family, and we have to take care of each other. That’s all I ever want to do for you.”

You nestle into him, curling your body closer to his while your arms squeeze at his sides. He kisses the crest of your head, a rare display of affection he’s only done a handful of times - it makes you realize that even when you were teenagers, and Sokka started to make serious suggestions about keeping his promise of marrying you after Hakoda left you in his care, he never once made you feel as safe as Zuko does.

“I hope I wasn't interrupting anything with my invitation,” Iroh greets you when you arrive at his chambers.

Before your nightly pot of tea with Zuko, a messenger came to your quarters telling you that Iroh wished to see you; when you asked why, the messenger told you that the general wanted to teach you to play Pai Sho. You looked to Zuko quizzically, wondering what was so important about knowing how to play a board game that you needed to be summoned so late in the evening, and he sent you off, assuring you that, knowing Iroh, it was worth taking up the offer.

“Just Zuko’s tea,” you tell him, “which, if it weren't for his company, I think I'd bail on every night.”

Iroh chuckles, leading you inside and lowering you onto a cushion on one end of a large Pai Sho table; he takes the other seat, smiling good-naturedly at you.

“Unfortunately, my nephew has never quite taken to the art of tea brewing,” he says, “no matter how many times I've tried to teach him; I take comfort in the fact that he's much better with a sword than I am, instead.”

You grin, watching as the old man spreads a set of tiles across the game board.

“Do you know of the significance of Pai Sho within the royal families of the Fire Nation?” he asks; you shake your head in response.

“It is traditionally learned as a way of teaching our young leaders to rule with strategy,” he explains. “It is meant to teach a balance between inner passions and outward logic, as well as how to observe one’s peers; those who practice Pai Sho diligently know how to pinpoint an opponent’s weaknesses while understanding and controlling their own, keeping others from using their shortcomings against them.

“Each tile has a meaning,” he continues, “and represents a different positive or negative attribute. They may only move in certain ways, but can change their effect on the game based on how the player chooses to use them within each environment. For example…”

Iroh goes on to explain each tile and its movements to you, walking you through each element of the game and practicing different tiles with you until you can actually place them in a somewhat skilled way. When you're comfortable, he plays a simple game with you, aiding you in which possibilities cause which consequences and pointing out ways you can better defend your side of the board. You play five games with him in total, never winning but trying as if you stood a chance against such a skilled player as him.

When you lose the last game, Iroh removes the last tile you played and replaces it with the white lotus - you quirk your brow, wondering why that would be the better move.

“I thought the white lotus was a weak tile,” you question him. “Why put it up against something as strong as the flame tile?”

“There are no weak tiles in Pai Sho,” Iroh instructs you, “only ones that are often overlooked. Sometimes we must look at things from a different perspective, you see; manipulate the odds by doing something unorthodox and unexpected. If your opponent cannot anticipate your actions, they cannot overcome you.”

Iroh removes the white lotus from the board, taking your hand within his and placing it in your open palm. He folds your fingers over it, closing your hand between both of his.

“Keep this with you,” he says. “It may help you someday.”

“But won't your board be incomplete?” you ask.

Iroh chuckles, giving you a mischievous wink that makes you feel almost as if the man is in some way omniscient.

“I have plenty of others,” he assures you. “It will do much more good in your hands.”

The next day, you accompany Rina to the seamstress’s workshop, wanting to give her the instructions for your portrait dress yourself. When you tell her this, Rina is clearly confused - she gently attempts to explain to you that it isn’t necessary, that she’s supposed to handle these sorts of things for you, but once you reveal what you have in mind, she shifts completely.

“The council is going to hate that,” she says. “I think it’s a great idea. I can take you to the seamstress, come with me.”

When you relay your plans to the seamstress, she’s also shocked - her eyes widen, and she physically backs away from you as if even considering following your orders will get her executed for treason.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It isn’t what the Firelady would typically do…”

“And I’m not a typical Firelady,” you reply, your tone bright and straightforward. “I’ve been asked to do what will create compromise, and this is the best compromise I can think of; I’m simply doing what I’m meant to.”

The seamstress agrees, but only after you give her your vow that she won’t take any of the blame should the idea backfire (you're in charge, after all, so what can anyone do? She’s just following orders.)

In white fabric, she makes a set of robes for Zuko and a dress for you, each including elements crafted in Fire Nation and Water Tribe tradition. She then takes each set to its own vat of hot water, adding blue dye to one and red dye to the other - she places the pieces in, looking nervously up at you as you approach the twin cauldrons.

“I just want to make one last adjustment,” you tell her.

Before she can respond, you take a bucket of blue dye and a bucket of red and tip each one into the opposite vat. The garments swirl as if caught in the midst of a tempestuous storm, the dye bleeding into the pristine fabric until it stains a shade of vivid, furious purple.

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mazzy-moon · 4 years ago

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A Lone Butterfly - Chapter 8

Title of Chapter: An Eye For An Eye

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings/Tags: Death, Blood, Violence, Swearing, Grief, Non-gratuitous descriptions of gore, references to kidnapping

Pairing: Javier Peña (Narcos) x Isabel Cotrille (OFC)

Summary: A year has passed since Isabel was kidnapped and rescued by Javier. Despite establishing her new life thousands of miles away from Columbia, her past follows her.

Notes: This is a rough one, but I promise things will get warm, fuzzy, and sexy in the not too distant future. Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read my story. Love you. x

Find this chapter on ao3

ONE YEAR LATER

The sand squishes between my toes as I take my daily run along Cannon Beach. It's cold today. I wonder what the weather is like in Columbia right now. Warm as always, I'm sure. I pass the huge coastal rock jutting out from the water, my signal that I'm nearly back to my condo.

I throw the door open once I get there. Despite the cold I'm drenched in sweat. I reach my desk and read Javier's letter for the millionth time. He asks me about my life here, and how it's treating me. He tells me Columbia misses me, and that he does too. My heart warms. Before I jump in the shower, I decide to quickly write him a response. At the bottom, I include an inside joke from a conversation that seems decades ago now.

'P.S. - Don't go punching any strangers while I'm gone. Love, Isabel.'

I miss Javier. Miss him so much it hurts. Our brief time together forged a bond between us I can't comprehend. I've spent many nights thinking of the kiss we shared. How his hands roamed over my body. It still gives me chills.

Even though he's not here, the memories continue to help me heal from the pain of my past.

It's been nearly a year since I boarded the plane from Columbia. Javier had been right. Moving back here was the best thing for me. I've felt more myself than I have in a long time.

My best friend, Melody, has been great. She's put her social life on hold to be there for me in any way she can. We've spent countless nights making hit or miss dinners and watching tooth rotting rom coms. She also referred me to a counselor the first week I got here, which has helped me in immeasurable ways. It's made me face my trauma, but also helped me cope with it.

Slowly, but surely, the empty piece of myself is filling back up. I still get nightmares, though, and I hate walking the streets by myself, especially at night. I'm wary of strange men, and I never go anywhere without pepper spray. I still miss my mother terribly. And my father. Remembering Columbia brings joy and pain.

There are good days and bad days, but I now have a hope for my future that wasn't there a year ago.

I wrap up a mug to send to Javier along with my letter. I've taken up pottery in the past months and it has been one of the many things to help me cope. I wonder what he'll think of the blue and gold painted creation.

The phone rings. It's Melody.

"Are you down for grabbing some Mexican tonight? There's a new place that just opened up downtown I've been wanting to try. Maybe we could catch a late movie afterwards?"

It was a Friday and I had no plans for the evening.

"Sounds fun, let's do it."

"Awesome! There is one thing though. I just put my car in the shop, is there anyway you could swing my place before?"

"Yeah, that should work. I'll pick you up around six."

"You're the best. See you then. Love ya."

"You too."

We say goodbye.

Later, I get ready for the night. Pulling a powder blue blouse over my head, I glance down at my bedside clock. I have a few minutes before I go to pick up Melody. I grab my keys, purse, and phone before heading out. I run back in, having forgotten Melody's gift. She went out of town for her birthday last week so I never had a chance to give her the gift I made. The intricate cake stand took hours, but I know she'll enjoy using it at her bakery. There's no bag, but it's too late to worry about now. I place it in the passenger seat and head out.

It's nearly dark when I get there. I hate driving to her place. It's cradled in between dense woods on either side and completely devoid of neighbors. I groan as my car reaches the dirt road leading up to her cabin. The looming trees extinguish most of the sun's fading light. As I reach the end of the drive way, I pull out my phone to tell her I'm here. I wait a few minutes but no answer. I'll just go up to the door.

I grab her present from the front seat and step out of my car. The damp earth cakes the bottom of my shoe as I tread up to the entrance of Melody's house. I knock, but she doesn't come. The lights are on, and I can hear music coming from inside. She must not hear me.

I twist the knob. It's unlocked. The minute I step inside I know something is off. Nothing seems to be out of place, but the atmosphere settles around me in a disquieting way.

"Melody, I'm here!" I yell towards the towards the top of the stairs.

Still nothing.

Something is wrong. I'm scared to go upstairs, but I do it anyway. I force myself to put one foot in front of the other. The panicky feeling I haven't had in a while creeps back in.

I hear the cake stand fall from my arms and shatter to a million pieces when I reach the top.

The lower half of Melody's body lies in front of me. The rest is hidden by the half closed bedroom door. I rush towards her, praying she's alive.

She's bleeding. It's everywhere.

"Melody! Melody!" My heart threatens to burst out of my chest. "Can you hear me, Melody? Answer me!"

She lies still. Somewhere deep down I know my friend is gone. As soon as my gaze shifts to her face I involuntarily fling myself from her.

A shard of glass sticks out from one eye. Everything is such a mess I didn't notice it at first. I sob loudly, barely recognizing my own voice. Slowly, I shift onto my knees towards her. I reach out for her hand, noticing the scrap of paper clutched in its grasp. I unfold the scrap between sobs.

Ojo por ojo.

An eye for an eye. The phrase has been written in blood.

I run down the stairs and back to my car as fast as my body will allow me. I yank my phone from my purse and dial the police.

It doesn't all set in until after the police have rolled her body away, pronouncing her dead at the scene. They ask me all the normal questions and I robotically answer. I'm a million miles away. They ask me about the note then. I tell them I knew it's meaning the moment I read it. I explain to them everything that happened in Columbia. Their next step is to contact Officer Santiago to fill him in on the situation and decide on how to proceed.

I don't go home that night. They assign me to the Witness Protection Program and place me under guard in a remote location an hour away.

As I'm sitting at the tiny home's kitchen table, my phone buzzes. I recognize the number and pick up on the first ring.

"Javi," my voice is shaky and barely there.

"Isabel, I just heard what happened. Are you safe?"

"I'm f- fine. I'm in the middle of nowhere, but there's guards with me."

He pauses and I hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

"Fuck, Isabel. I'm- I'm sorry this is happening."

"It's not your fault."

"It is. We should've caught these guys by now. The fact that they left the country and weren't even on our radar- this is a fucking mess."

I try to hide my cries but he must sense it anyway. Something about hearing his voice after everything that's happened makes me finally let go.

"Shh. Don't cry. Listen, I'm gonna come up there. I can get on a plane within a couple days."

"No, Javier, you can't do that."

"They traveled countries to get to you, Isabel. I have to-"

"No, you can't do anything from here. The police are taking care of me, Javi. I'll be okay. I can't keep you from doing what you can to catch them."

We go back and forth but he finally decides to stay in Columbia as long as I update him each day. We say our goodbyes, and I almost beg him to come to me. I crave his arms. But I can't bring myself to be that selfish.

Being cooped up in the hide out cabin reminds me of my boredom back at the hospital in Columbia. I'm not allowed to leave and there's little to do here. I have endless amounts of books though. I skip the murder mysteries, preferring to drown myself in the pile of vintage romance novels tucked away in a rusty cabinet. Melody would have loved these books. She was a sucker for this stuff.

I've had to stop myself from picking up the phone to call her more times than I can count. It may not be medically possible, but I swear my heart physically aches at the thought of my best friend. I'd known her my entire life. I couldn't imagine life without her. I couldn't have imagined life without my mother and father either, but here I am. Life was cruel thing, hungry for peace and stealing it when you least expect.

After several days spent in solitude at the hide out, one of my guards informs me we are taking a trip back to the station. I ask what for, but am given no answer.

Once there, I'm informed I am to go back to Columbia. Javier's task force has caught Matías. I am the only one that can positively identify him.

I grip the seat beneath me.

It seems Columbia is not done with me yet.

#javier pena #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fic #a lone butterfly series #javier peña

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simonxriley · 5 years ago

Text

Keep Your Degtyaryov By Your Side! 1/2

Pairing: Alexsandr “Tachanka” Senaviev & Skylar “Phoenix” Jackson (Platonic, I know..shocking)

Other Characters: Timur “Glaz” Glazkov, Seamus “Sledge” Cowden

Words: 2,404

Warnings: None

Summary: Skylar and Glaz concoct an April fools joke that might just send the one and only Tachanka into a panic. But things go a little south.

A/N: This was going to be one long-ish one-shot but then I decided to split it into 2 parts. The first in Skylar’s POV and the other in Tachanka’s up until a certain part.

Ao3

April first, the one day where it was acceptable to prank people, and so far the base has been fairly quiet. Then again it was still morning and there was plenty of time throughout the day for more people to get pranked. Skylar already expected Thermite, Smoke and Bandit to have something up their sleeves, and felt sorry for those poor unfortunate souls who will get the other end of it. She just hopes she isn’t one of them.

As she made her way to meet Glaz in his room, she couldn’t help but have a little skip in her step. For someone who doesn’t really like pranking people, her and Glaz came up with a fun filled prank, for the one and only Tachanka. Though they were treading on dangerous territory, no one was allowed to touch his beloved Degtyaryov and they were about to take it straight out of his room and have her place it on the roof.

She knocked on Glaz’s door and impatiently waited for him to open it, not like it took him all of three seconds to do so. He moved aside letting her in and shut the door behind her. “What’s the plan again?”

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, it wasn’t like they went over this plan last night via text message. “We go and grab Alex to have breakfast with us hopefully, I pretend to get a text from someone and leave for a bit. You keep Alex occupied while I move his Degtyaryov to the roof.”

He nodded his head. “Okay, what if I can’t keep him occupied? You know how stubborn he can be.”

“Then keep him occupied long enough for me to grab the gun and make it to the roof, so like five minutes.”

“Okay.” A small mischievous smile started to spread across his face. “You ready?”

“Oh yeah.”

They both headed for his room, knowing he would be done with training right about now. Skylar trying to make herself not smile as she makes her way to his room with Glaz, knowing full well that Tachanka would know something was up because of how giddy she was. And she couldn’t have that.

By the time they came to his door, she took a deep breath to calm her excitement, face going neutral as she watched the door open.

Tachanka looked between both of them and leaned against the doorway. “Isn’t this a nice surprise? Two people who didn’t show up for training standing right in front of my door.”

Confusion etched on both Glaz and Skylar’s face and they glanced between one another.

“We did train, it’s Wednesday, remember?” said Skylar. She watched as he contemplated her words and realized she was right. Her and Glaz always trained on Mondays and Wednesdays. “Wow, already forgetting what day it is.”

“Shush!” She chuckled in reply, making him cross his arms. “So what is it?”

“Skylar and I were wondering if you wanted to get breakfast?”

He uncrossed his arms and sighed through his nose, glancing between them once again. “Sure, I haven’t eaten yet anyways.”

“Great! We’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

Tachanka looked her over, seeing the cheeky smile spread across her face. He knew what day it was and was a little skeptical about this whole ordeal. Glaz wasn’t one to prank people, that wasn’t his thing. Neither was Skylar’s as far as he knows. She never pranked anyone on base that he knows of, but that cheeky smile did make him curious.

“Give me a few minutes I still need to get dressed.”

They both nodded their heads as he shut his door, Skylar letting out a breath and looked over at Glaz. “I think he’s onto us.”

Her voice was just above a whisper, soft enough for only him to know what she said. “Don’t worry about it, he won’t suspect a thing.”

“I think I’m gonna go to breakfast with you guys and act like I got a message there instead of when we’re walking to the mess-hall. Be a bit more believable.”

“I agree.”

Tachanka came out of his room seconds later in more casual clothing than his training fatigues. He turned around after shutting his door to lock it, which sent Glaz into a small panic. She glanced over at him mouthing the words ‘don’t worry I got this’ and he nodded in reply.

“So how was training?” asked Skylar “Did the FBI win like we always do?”

She momentarily forgot that the FBI and Spetsnaz were joint training today, minus her and Glaz, unfortunately due to their sniper training. And ninety-five percent of the time the FBI wins.

He let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. “Da, they did.”

“You Russians need to learn how to work better as a team.” She held her hands up in defense after seeing the offended looks on their faces. “I’m not saying this as a bad thing, I like you guys..well four out of five of you. I’ve watched you guys in simulations, you all have talent, you just don’t know how to materialize that talent as a team.”

Tachanka looked over at Glaz who was rubbing his neck awkwardly, trying to avoid eye contact with his fellow comrade. “You agree with her don’t you Timur?”

“Details is what I do, we plan as a team greatly. As soon as the simulations start, those plans seem to go out the window. Maxim roams a bit too much, Shuhrat doesn’t hold contact with the team. It’s not a coincidence the FBI can kill three out of five of us in a matter of seconds.”

He was quiet for a moment, a little too quiet, then his body relaxed and he exhaled a breath. “The more I think about it, the more you’re right.”

“Try what the FBI does, figure out your guys strengths and weaknesses and figure out how to work them as a team. It’ll take time, but maybe after a while half of your team won’t be wiped in the matter of seconds.”

Tachanka nodded his head, a small smile spreading across his face. “I’ll look into it….thanks kotyonok!”

“Just trying to help my fave Russians.” she laughed. “Now let’s go get something to eat. I'm starving.”

The mess-hall was pretty packed with the majority of the other operators already in there. Unfortunately Thermite was one of them, now she needed to glance around the room to figure out which ones of her friends weren’t in there. Luckily she didn’t see Castle, Ela or Jackal, now just to figure out which one to use to get away.

They all grabbed their breakfast and took a seat at the nearest available table. Skylar didn’t grab much since she knew she needed to leave in a bit. However she was craving a nice cup of tea that she couldn’t have yet.

“I’ve been wondering something about you Skylar.” said Tachanka after a moment. “You don’t seem like the military type..”

“So why did I join?”

“Da.”

“I graduated high school when I was sixteen, took a gap year afterwards to really search for the right college for me. During that gap year a hurricane struck Maine and completely destroyed the families brewery which was our main source of income. I didn’t want my parents to spend money that should go into the brewery on my tuition, so I opted to join the Marines to pay for it.”

“You never told me that.”

She looked over at Glaz and chuckled. “Truthfully it never crossed my mind.” She pretended to have her phone buzzing in her pocket, and picked it up to see who it was. “Looks like Castle needs me for something.”

“Maybe he’s going to prank you?”

“Perhaps.” She stood up, grabbing the little bit of food she grabbed. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Skylar left the mess-hall after that and headed for her room to get her lock picks. She was secretly hoping he wouldn’t have locked his door when they went to breakfast, now she’s hoping no one walks down the hall while she picks his lock to get into his room.

She opened the door to her room and placed the food and water bottle onto her bed and went into her side table, grabbing her lock picks and put them into her pocket, and headed for Tachanka’s room.

As she came to his room, she slowed her pace down a bit, looking around her to see if she could see anyone around, thankfully no one was. She knelt down and took the lock picks out of her pocket and began to go to work. About a moment later she heard the door unlock, sighing in relief and slowly opened the door and went in.

She quietly shut the door behind her and pocketed her lock picks again. His room was fairly organized, and wasn't really shocked since he’s been in the military for a few decades, that stuff kinda sticks with you. As she walked over to his Degtyaryov, she glanced at his desk, seeing paperwork for his last mission, a few books on old soviet weaponry and a paper with her name on it.

That drew her attention more to it and she picked it up, now seeing it was a letter. Or a half written one to be exact. Her hazel eyes scanning the words and her heart skipped a beat. “What Timur said was true, he does like me.”

She shook her head when she realized she said that out loud and placed the letter back where she found it. Now was not the time to worry about their crushes, but to get his Degtyaryov to the roof. That can come later.

Up close his mounted Degtyaryov was pretty big, and most likely heavy. She went to grab it by the base of the mount and pick it up, groaning as she did. “Jesus this thing weighs a lot. No wonder a guy like him carries it.”

That’s when the light bulb in her head went off. She needed someone strong enough to carry it, the first person that came to her mind was Sledge. She reached for her phone and dialed his number, hoping he wasn’t busy or in the middle of training.

“Hello?”

“Hi Seamus I need your help.”

“Okay, what do ya need lass?”

She let out a small chuckle and placed her arm on the gun. “Uh Glaz and I are pranking Tachanka by moving his Degtyaryov to the roof and it’s too heavy for me to move on my own. Can you help?”

There was complete silence at his end and that made her a bit worried. “Lads gonna go mental over this. But hell yeah I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Thanks Seamus!”

“No problem!”

They both hung up the phone, Skylar putting it back into her pocket - she took a seat on his bed. Though the mattress was identical to hers, she liked the feel of his duvet under her fingers. It made her slightly think of what could possibly happen in the near future, that is if she can survive his onslaught.

Sledge finally walked through the door and she stood up. “Seriously Seamus thank you for doing this. I’m not sure a lot of people would do this considering who this gun belongs to.”

“Skylar you’re the only one brave enough to do this, everyone else would be afraid of his wrath.” He walked over and swung the gun over his shoulders with ease. “And truthfully? I can’t wait to see his reaction.”

“I know I’m walking on some mighty thin ice here, but he doesn’t scare me. However I am looking forward to his reaction when he finds out it was me.”

They began to make their way to the roof, thankfully Tachanka’s room was close to the door. She kept an eye and ear opened to make sure no one was coming near them.

“He’s never gonna see it coming, will most likely blame James or Dominic.”

Skylar laughed and agreed with him. Smoke and Bandit were known pranksters around base, so it would be the first place his brain would go when he finds out his Degtyaryov is gone. That Smoke or Bandit decided to misplace his beloved LMG.

“Poor Smoke and Bandit.”

Sledge laughed as they came to the door leading up to the roof. She opened it for him, letting him go in first and followed behind. With his free hand he opened the other door leading to the roof and stood to the side.

“Where do ya want it?”

She looked around, wanting a place where she knows he’ll be able to see it. “How about right there? It’s near the front door of the barracks, easy to see.”

Sledge placed it down and chuckled. “Please keep me updated on this.”

“I will.” She took one last glance over at the Degtyaryov before turning back to him. “Now I just need to re-lock his door and meet him and Timur back in the mess-hall..and act like nothing happened.”

“Good, this might be the only entertainment I get for the day.” He laughed.

“Probably the only entertainment a lot of us are gonna get.”

“Too right, lass.”

They left the roof after that and went their separate ways. Skylar went back to Tachanka’s room to quickly lock his door and then headed back to the mess-hall. When she got there, they were both still there and that made her sigh in relief.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly.” joked Tachanka

She glared over at him and huffed. “I know you did, don’t lie to me Alexsandr.”

“Someone’s feisty?” He took a sip of his coffee and looked over at her. “What did Miles want?”

“Well maybe you should stop making me feisty. It was nothing, he just misplaced something of his.”

“Ah.” He didn’t fully believe her, but wasn’t going to pry just yet. “I have a gun to clean and polish, so I will see you two later.”

Both Glaz and Skylar watched him get up and leave, and laughed among each other. He was about to get one rude awakening when he opens his door. Hopefully the base is ready for the wrath of Tachanka.

“Everything set?” asked Glaz

“Yup, now we wait and watch it unfold.”

#otp: the tachanka and his kotyonok #tachanka x skylar #oc skylar jackson #timur glazkov #glaz #alexsandr senaviev #tachanka #seamus cowden #sledge #rainbow six siege #r6s

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liam-93-productions · 6 years ago

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Liam Payne is on the cover of Esquire Middle East's June 2019 issue

The One Direction star was photographed on a rainy day in London

During the shoot, Payne opens up about the media's obsession with romance rumours

"Most of what you read online about me is straight BS" says Payne

It’s raining in West London. Every weather man, woman, and app had forecast that sunshine would be on the agenda for the day. But no. It’s raining. So, we’re stuck inside instead.

Alternating between balancing on a set of dumbbells (...) Liam Payne doesn’t seem to mind all that much about the weather. He’s used to plans changing pretty quickly.

“I’ve found in my life at the moment, because of the way things have happened, that everything’s kind of fast-forwarded,” says Payne, his dark eyes lighting up like those of a prospector that’s just panned a nugget of gold, “everything has fast-forwarded.”

As Payne ambles about the studio, it’s hard not to notice that even the tattoo on his forearm bears a striking resemblance to the fast-forward button on a television remote. Or a Spotify skip button.

Having recently performed alongside Rita Ora at the Global Teacher Prize concert in Dubai, Payne looks healthy and tanned, kissed by the sun even though his visit to the region was greeted by weather not dissimilar to today’s overcast conditions. “I think the weather’s just following me around at the minute,” he says with a laugh as abrupt as the first half of a hiccup. “There’s an air of something almost Vegas-y about Dubai,” adds Payne, “everything’s a little bit of a show there.”

Payne is no stranger to bit of a show. As well as having spent the better part of a decade touring the world with One Direction (the band is currently on a definitely indefinite hiatus) Payne helped break a concert attendance record in the Middle East last year by performing in front of 110,000 people. “I didn’t eat anything at dinner beforehand because I was thinking no-one’s going to turn up,” he admits.

To make Liam Payne nervous certainly takes some doing. Back in 2009—when ambitions of winning X-Factor as a solo performer were still very much at the forefront of his mind—Payne sang in front of over 29,000 fans as part of the pre-match entertainment of a game between his local football team Wolverhampton Wanderers and Manchester United. A pretty heady experience for a boy not yet old enough to drive a car.

Now 25, Payne knew from an early age that he could “hold a tune”. What it took him longer to realise was that others couldn’t. “I think I thought it was just a normal thing that people could get on with,” he says with a shrug. That may well have been the case when it came to his local theatre group, but when considering most of the “normal things”that people “get on with”, we’d hazard a guess that the majority don’t involve amassing over two billion streams on Spotify.

But that’s Liam Payne for you: unassuming, self-effacing, and—for the most part—a guy who seems just genuinely happy to be here. It’s easy to forget when deliberating the merits of Linkin Park’s nu-metal masterpiece ‘Meteora’ with Payne that his face was once plastered on the bedroom walls of millions of tweens the world over.

Payne’s achieved extraordinary success in the quarter of a century he’s exhausted so far. So much so that you’d expect the moment that sparked off his passion for music to be equally spectacular. A real spontaneous Kevin Bacon dancing-in-an-abandoned-warehouse sort of epiphany. The reality is that it wasn’t romantic or sexy in the slightest. It was karaoke. “I used to go out to Cornwall and see my grandad and we’d always go to this karaoke bar and we’d sing a load of different stuff,” says Payne.

What sort of “stuff” does a future pop-star sing in a karaoke bar in a small town on the west coast of the UK? Well, the same oeuvre that you or I are have probably crooned into a microphone at midnight at Lucky Voice: ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams.

While Payne isn’t ashamed to admit that he was listening to Williams pretty much 24/7 as a youngster (“No, I really was”), one of the first CDs he bought with his own money was an Eminem record. Growing up with both Robbie Williams and Marshall Mathers as his idols, he places his own sound as “somewhere in-between the two”.

A little bit Slim Shady and a little bit Rock DJ, that intersection of pop and rap is reflected in Payne’s solo career so far. His debut single, the catchy-as-the-plague earworm ‘Strip That Down’, featured Migos alum Quavo and went on to be certified platinum in both the US and the UK. The title track of his First Time EP also saw Payne join forces with rapper French Montana. Payne’s certainly not the first popstar to align themselves with a more urban sound in an attempt to appeal to an older demographic. Nor will he be the last. The transition from squeaky-clean boyband member to fullyfledged solo artist is, after all, anything but easy. To use a Take That comparison: for every one Robbie Williams, there are a hundred Mark Owens.

When it comes to One Direction, it’s still a bit too soon to tell who the Robbies and the Marks of the bunch are going to be. “When we did the band stuff it was very—not exactly scripted—but let’s just say you kind of knew your audience very well,” says Payne. “We’d usually sell a tour out before we’d even done an album. And then they [the record producers] would go: ‘Right, you’re doing stadiums’. And then you’d go: ‘Okay, so we need longer choruses—the kind of songs that people can chant in a stadium’. You had to kind of write around the tour.”

If that process sounds a bit paint-by-numbers, that’s because—by Payne’s own admission—it was. “It’s a very backwards way to do it,” he admits, “obviously people don’t really tend to write like that. But we just had no time, so it was like: ‘Quick! We need another hit and another and another!’ It was actually easier to write in that scenario because there were so many hoops you had to jump through. It wouldn’t necessarily be my choice of music now—it wasn’t something that I would listen to—but I just knew how to make it, if that makes sense?”

Going from such a canned bop formula to a world of complete creative freedom is a daunting prospect for anyone looking to make it as a solo act. But that was far from the only challenge Payne faced. Streaming services like Spotify and Apple Music have drastically altered the music industry since the phone-to-vote days that launched One Direction. “The way that the industry kind of works now is kind of a difficult one because of the way albums are and the introduction of Spotify,” says Payne. “When I was in the band, Spotify wasn’t really a thing for us, we didn’t really care. We used to sell a lot of albums and physical copies, so it was different for us. As I got more into the solo stuff it was a kind of, like, a bit f**king confusing.”

All you need to do is look at the chains that Payne draped around his neck during the releases of a series of sophomore singles to see a man adopting a kabuki mask that didn’t quite fit. A man who was, in his words, a bit f**king confused. “‘Strip That Down’ was amazing and I was really happy with the success of it—but it didn’t necessarily paint the right picture of me and who I actually am,” he says, “I always found, to start off with, that with a lot of the chains and the clothes and the fashion, I was kind of hiding behind something. We did a billion streams for ‘Strip That Down’ but it still all gets a bit heady and at a certain point you’re like: ‘what the f**k am I doing here?’ It’s a bit like being stuck out in deep water and you’re just going ‘well, it would be really nice to get back now.’”

Payne might still be far from the shore, but he seems to be treading water at a more comfortable pace nowadays. “It took me a long to get my head around it,” he says (...)

And where is Liam Payne now? Well, he’s sat in front of me looking comparatively anxiety-free: comfortable and relaxed in a plain black tee and pair of tailored HUGO trousers. “My style and my fashion sense are all quite laid back now because that’s kind of the way I am as well. I don’t feel the need to hide behind the clothes anymore. I feel I can finally be who I am and enjoy myself.”

The last few years have witnessed a real boy-to-man transition for the ex-boy band squaddie. A coming-of-age moment came when he arrived at Frank Sinatra’s house in Palm Springs to record his part of ‘For You’ with Rita Ora. A crooning, finger-snapping, rather embarrassingly-waist-coated rendition of ‘Fly Me to The Moon’ was what Payne sang to get through his first ever X-Factor audition. Walking into Old Blue Eyes’ home, for Payne, came with the realisation that he’d “made that complete full-circle journey”.

Suffice it to say there’s no turning around for Payne in that journey when it comes to the fame front; he’s well in the thickets of the tabloid jungle. Headlines about who’s “breaking silence on romance rumours” with the popstar are a daily occurrence in the British papers. So too are accompanying photographs of his face. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Payne has, after all, got a rather nice face. The latest use of which has seen it become the face of Hugo Boss’s latest HUGO menswear line.

“To be honest, they called me and it just seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. It was a direction that I knew I’d love to go down,” says Payne on how his partnership with the brand first came about. “It’s very rare that a big company like Hugo Bosscomes around asking for you to be the face of it. It’s a bit of a dream come true actually.”

Previous Hugo Boss ambassadors include the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Jamie Dornan and Gerard Butler. Handsome faces. Familiar faces. Faces that are now forever immortalised in the public conscience. A fact that Payne is all-too conscious of himself. “I was looking through the different people that they’ve had on their roster over the years and they’re all people that I look up to,” says Payne, “So, I’m obviously quite excited but it’s also a bit daunting because these things,” he spreads his arms in a gesture that aptly sums up the rigmarole of press junkets and interviews, “are literally around for forever now.”

Moving from location to location and outfit to outfit, it becomes evident that dressing to hide who he is, is no longer on Payne’s agenda. As he’s grown (both figuratively and literally) in the public eye, and Payne’s now come to accept the lane he’s in. “I’ve become more in tune with things now,” he says, “as the years go by, I think you gain a different level of confidence and find out what works for you and what doesn’t, rather than constantly trying to be something that you’re not. If that makes sense?” It does.

What makes less sense is why Payne decided to go with chains in the first place “It was quite funny at the time when everyone used to get really mad about it,” he says referencing outraged headlines like: Sleepy Liam Payne leaves a London studio wearing a HUGE gold chain. “It just didn’t really matter to me.”

What matters to Payne is when those stories affect the lives of those around him. One particular article published in the British newspaper, The Daily Mail, last year that attempted to insinuate he was romantically linked with a member of his team irked Payne so much that the usually apolitical Twitterer took to social media to criticising the newspaper.

“The difference with that story was that the people that they were putting me with have families, boyfriends, girlfriends,” explains Payne, “I go home every night and know that people write horses**t about me daily. I won’t worry about it because I know it’s f**king bulls**t. But for someone who’s never had a story written about them before? If they go home and their partner’s reading the paper going like: ‘what the f**k is this?’ It’s difficult for them to be able to explain that.” Payne’s voice ratchets up a few decibels when he says this. He uses more than a few words we’re not legally allowed to print. I can tell that he cares about this. That it needles him. That it’s not something he has to say, but rather something that he needs to say. So, I let him.“I asked for this, I get paid very handsomely to be here and it’s part of my life and I get it. It’s alright. You can write what the f**k you want about me but when it comes to other people who work with me? That is not on.”

The only way for Payne to cut through that noise is by doing the thing he knows best: making music. “Everything I do is very, very public a lot of the time. I get reported on a lot for different things. I just think there’s a certain line where I have to have my say. And that there’s only one way for me to do that—which is through my music.”

(...)

Communicating as a public figure becomes increasingly difficult when navigating the glut of information that exists online. Do a quick Google search for ‘Liam Payne’ and you’ll be greeted by countless fan sites with a never-ending litany of “facts” about the man. Facts like:

“Liam Payne prefers showers over baths” “Liam Payne sleeps naked” “Liam Payne has a phobia of spoons”

While Payne is quick to assure me that most of what you’ll read online is straight B.S., one fact did keep cropping up again and again. And I mean, c’mon, I couldn’t not ask him about the spoons, could I?

“Yeah, I did have a fear of spoons,” he groans with the weariness of a man who’s been pelted with countless pieces of cutlery, “but it wasn’t so much a fear as something that’s now turned into a thing because of the internet. I was forced in detention once to wash up dirty plates and spoons and I think it just put me off looking at how dirty some of these spoons came back. But people used to throw spoons at me in concerts! I should have said I had a fear of pillows—that would have been comfier.”

All things considered, a fear of spoons is a fairly harmless rumour to spread. But rumours rarely ever are. Most are vicious; spreading like wildfire and burning all of those they touch. “I’ve been dead,” says Payne abruptly. “People I love have been dead.”

The non-stop 24-hour nature of the news cycles can be overwhelming to read, let alone to be involved in via the announcement of your own death. “You have to learn fast and we [One Direction] had to grow up pretty quick in the circumstances that we were under or else you kind of f**k it a little bit,” he says. If you’ve ever seen clips of The Beatles or BTS getting mobbed on the streets, you know the kind of hysteria that can ensue when boyband members are seen out in public.

“I don’t think I struggle in the sense of what you would naturally think of when I’m walking down the street with every person stopping me,” says Payne, “I mean, it happens sometimes but it’s mainly mentally where you struggle with it. It’s the getting ready and always knowing that you might be photographed.” From elaborate airport fits to the loungewear he puts on to pick up a pint of semiskimmed milk from the shop down the road, there’s never a moment where Payne and his clothing aren’t in danger of becoming front page news.

One of the ways that Payne combats that simmering anxiety is by going for a run at 5am every morning. It’s probably why he’s been able to maintain his sanity so far. And probably why he’s in—as evidenced by his numerous topless Instagram photos—such great nick.

“I love it. I get myself outside and into the day and get past that fear of ‘what if this happens?’ or ‘what if that happens?’. Because, for a long time, I became—what’s the word?” says Payne, gesticulating wildly as if he’ll catch the phrase careening around his head like a runaway wasp, “there’s a word for this condition where you stay inside and never leave, it’s in Ocean’s Twelve…”

I saw Ocean’s Twelve last week. The word he’s looking for is agoraphobia.

“Yeah, that’s it. I developed a bit of agoraphobia. I would never leave the house. And I do sometimes suffer with it a bit in the sense that I’ll get days where I just don’t want to leave my house. Even if it’s just going to the shop. I’d be going i to order a coffee at Starbucks and I would sweat because I wouldn’t know whether I was doing the right thing or not. I would be thinking: ‘f**k, I don’t want to be here’.”

I worry for a moment whether Payne is feeling that same feeling today but decide instead to take likely misplaced solace that my innate knowledge of the Ocean’s film franchise has won him over. “I even used to have a really bad problem with going to petrol stations and paying for petrol. I can feel it now—it was like this horrible anxiety where I’d be sweating buckets in the car thinking ‘I don’t want to do this’.”

Many people suffer from moments of panic and instances where we feel crushed by the weight of the world’s expectations and Payne is all-too aware that his specific anxieties stem from a position of privilege. “Unfortunately, it does happen to everybody in this industry,” he says, “I think at a certain point you just have to get over it as quickly as you can.”

There we are once again: back to doing things quickly. Back to being on fast-forward. Back to doing countless interviews in specifically allotted time slots. Back to that constant pressure where “everything happens a little bit quicker in my world than it does in everyone else’s”.

Everything might be happening a hell of a lot quicker for Liam Payne than me, but I’m still interested to know: what’s next for the man? What does he want to achieve in the not-yet fast-forwarded future? “I’m hoping for something a lot more than what I’ve done so far, if that makes sense?” Having listened to Payne’s solo discography in preparation for this interview, it really does.

Sure, Payne’s produced a spate of bonafide bangers—songs that will have you singing along as you whip down Emirates Road—but they’re also songs that are, for the most part, still formulaic. They’re catchy, glossily well-produced, yet contain something of an air of inauthenticity about them.

And, having met Payne, I can’t help but feel they seem at odds with his unabashedly authentic self. As he tells me: “People can see right through that s**t and it’s difficult for you to then go and say ‘buy this record!’ if you don’t really believe in what’s going on.”

So, what does a man who’s (sort of) afraid of spoons actually believe in? Moreover, what does a man who eats ice cream with a fork want to be remembered as having believed in? “I’m obviously really happy with some of the stuff I’ve done. Like breaking world records with the band and all sorts of amazing stuff. But in the recent years, it’s been a bit topsy-turvy with me kind of finding my way. And I’d rather not be remembered for a lot of those things. I want to make a really amazing album that’s not, like,” and he air-quotes here, “important, but something that people really get into. Something that makes certain people feel a couple things. I think that would be the best thing for me. I just want to make people move, if that makes sense?”

In case you haven’t already noticed, that question (‘if that makes sense?”) is practically punctuation to Payne. It’s a caveat that ends many of his statements; an interrogation of his own beliefs and a moment where his PR armour reveals its chinks and offers a glimpse of the man beneath the surface. A man that is equal parts cocksure and uncertain—a man who’s very rarely both and almost never neither.

While he might be living on fast-forward—and shows no signs of slowing anytime soon—Liam Payne, for the moment at least, might just be in the midst of the most interesting time of his life. His legacy is currently being written, awaiting the day we’ll eventually look back with a clearer idea of whether he’s a Robbie Williams or a Mark Owen. As for me, I’m just hoping that the next evolution of Liam Payne’s career is a lot more Liam Payne than the last. If that makes sense?

#liam payne #esquire middle east #liam's interview #hugo boss #30.05.2019 #long post

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 6 years ago

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Safe Harbor (3/?)

A/N: Thor really has no chill, guys. Sorry Not sorry.

You weave through traffic on your motorcycle fearlessly headed towards your parent’s brownstone. You’d call it home but it wasn’t. Not really. It was a mausoleum for living creatures. A place where your parents hid from the modern world in a bubble filled with things and customs they understood.

They hadn’t left it but for brief trips to the Country since long before you were born. Possibly since after they arrived there after the Civil War shortly before Warren’s birth. You’d been born and raised in that house but it wasn’t home. Your boat was home.

You let yourself in, ignoring the staleness of the air. The smell of dust and rust and wood varnish. You nod to Warren who’s sitting at a pianoforte playing for your mother and head upstairs. Father has your “Allowance” in his study and Mother does not like her concerts to be disturbed. You’re already (not regrettably) late and Father will have been vaguely concerned. He’s not really been concerned about anyone in decades, his mind is too full of the past to worry about the present or the future.

You knock on the door quietly and are rewarded with a rough “Enter.” So you do. Your tread soft on the old wood, “Papa,” you say softly, “How are you? Did you get my letters?” He looks up half in dreams, “Yes, yes, Very good daughter. I did get them. Though I don’t understand how you’re going to find a mate to protect you in the middle of the ocean.” You smile a little. You’d had this talk many times, “Papa, I don’t need a mate to protect me. It’s a new time. I can go anywhere I want. I could be a doctor now. Or a soldier. Or even a politician.” Your father shakes his head and hands you an envelope with a little extra money in it. You don’t need it, really. But it’s nice to have something for a rainy day. “My darling girl, it may be a new time but some things don’t change. You have teeth and claws. You are a wolf, fierce and cunning. But everything about you invites challenge. Stupid men, mortal or otherwise will want to possess you. And what will become of you when you’re tired of fighting them? What will become of you when you cannot fight them?” You bend down to kiss his cheek. You know that you still smell like Thor. The scent of pine and Ozone clings to you after your night together, reminding you that he’s going to call. But your father doesn’t comment. There is nothing for him to say. You’ve already lost his attention as he drifts in his mind. Back to his boyhood. Back to the court of Isabella and Ferdinand. Back when he was once considered for Cathrine of Aragon.

Warren is finishing his concert as you go back downstairs. Mother is clapping and Warren is bowing. You wait patiently at the door as Mother fusses over your brother. Warren is her firstborn. Her favorite. You idly wonder if Mother knows that Warren is gay as she pesters him to find a mate and get a wife because at 200 years old she wants to be a grandma already. You cough quietly and your mother turns, “Oh, Y/N, you’re finally here I didn’t notice,” she said, taking in your appearance. True born female werewolves are plump as a rule. It makes it so they can endure the amount of energy it takes to hold off the change at the full moon until the birth of the child. Mother is not true born and it was only sheer dumb luck that you managed to be born at all. Neither is Warren. Mother was changed after Warren’s birth and Warren was changed at 22 in 1890. Your mother’s eye zeroes in on the mark Thor had left on your neck that’s fading to a lighter, duskier purple. She takes in your size, mentally deciding that you’d gained weight (you hadn’t. You never do. Your weight is the exact same it had been when you stopped aging at 16). She tuts and pats the seat next to her reluctantly, “You could be so pretty, Y/N. Why don’t you at least try and lose weight?” You sigh, “Because Mama, I live to serve as your biggest disappointment in life. It’s my only real talent.”

Warren turns a snort into a cough masterfully and hands you a cup of tea, “Well, Mama,” he said, “I’m glad she’s plump or I might have to spend all my time fending off her suitors with a stick and then I wouldn’t be able to play you concerts every morning.” You catch Warren’s eye and he winks. It’s a redirection. She’s now so busy gushing about Warren’s playing she’s half-forgotten you were even there. He keeps her off your back until Mother decides it is time to change from her Morning clothes into her Afternoon clothes, bemoaning that all the people she could possibly want to go visiting are dead. In her own day, mother was a debutante, beautiful and sparkling as she whirled around a dancefloor on the arm of her escort. She was everything a woman was supposed to be then and she hated that you weren’t. She hated that you passionately rejected doing needlepoint and that the only instrument you played was the guitar. She hated that you didn’t speak French and only spoke “unfashionable” languages (not that she knew which ones you actually could speak). Warren walks you to the door and hugs you, kissing your head, “So, little sister,” he says grinning, “When do I get to meet your new toy?” You shrug, “I dunno how long I’ll be in town. We only met last night and I’m not sure he’ll want to make our arrangement long term.” Warren pulls your shirt collar away from your neck and inspects the bite, “One night and he already found your spot,” he whistles softly, “You little tart. What would mother say?”

“I dunno, let's go ask her while I ask her if she’s been introduced to the Vampire boy you keep over in the Village,” you shoot back with a cheeky smile. You would never do that. Warren and Roderick were a cute couple. They worked. And Roderick made Warren happy. That was all you really cared about. Warren Shushes you and playfully pinches your cheek, “You’re just trying to take my spot as the favorite,” he scolds. You shake your head, “I could never do that, Warren. You understand either of them better than I ever could.” He kisses your forehead, “Give it a few centuries, pet. You’ve not even lived through one lifetime yet. Someday you’ll be old and doddering on your ship and your kids will have to hear you nattering on about the good old days as if they really were that good.”

He shoves you gently out the door and shuts it behind you as Mother calls out from the top of the stairs that she believes it is time for lunch. He can handle mother but today, she’s in a mood and she’s looking for a fight. He’d prefer not to have to listen to her snipe at you all afternoon and watch you have to play the dutiful daughter.

Out on the Street, he watches for a moment as you answer your phone, smiling. The words are garbled between Mother’s tone-deaf singing, the door, and the street noise, but the tone is clear. Your new boy called you and he would very much like to see you this evening.

...”I was thinking we could have dinner,” Thor says, smiling as he listens to you shout at some kids who are edging too close to your motorcycle. “Is that so?” you say teasing. “Well, what if I had a better idea?” Thor loves the teasing tone in your voice. It makes him think of the kiss he gave you before he left you.

“And what would that be, my lady?” he says seriously. “What if you meet me at a Diner not too far from the Dock. They serve breakfast all day. We’ll eat and then I’ll take you out sailing,” you say. You’d love to get him out on the open water where he wouldn’t have to be so shy of his body. If you went out far enough there could even be a romantic dinner in it. And a nice slow fuck under the stars. You hadn’t been romanced in a while and Thor, with his shy smile and soft eyes was the perfect candidate for the job. If last night was any indication, it had been a while for him too. Thor smiles, “Shall I pack an overnight bag?” he asks. You grin, “I would,” you say, “Meet in 30 minutes?” Thor makes a sound of agreement and you hang up, putting your phone in your pocket and starting your bike.

“Honestly, Warren,” your mother says as you rev the engine and shoot down the street, “What sort of man is very going to want her?” Warren heaves a sigh, “I’m sure I don’t know,” he says for her benefit. It broke his heart. From across the street, mother could see the dirt under your fingernails but she couldn’t see your smile. That wasn’t the smile you gave a fling. That was the smile you gave a lover you didn’t know you were in love with yet. He’d never seen it on your face before but he hoped this man, whoever he was, took care of your heart as well as he took care of your desires.

When you arrive back at the dock, you change clothes. A bikini top and a pair of cut offs. Short cutoffs. The kind that were barely decent to go to the bodega for alcohol and fixings for a nice dinner. Over that, you throw a huge t shirt that covers all the skin that needs to be covered and text thor to just dress for the beach. When he arrives as you’re pulling the shirt over your head, he stops and admires the bikini top and shorts. He loves your softness and he loves that you’re comfortable with it. He feels uncomfortable in his clothing and he hates the way his belly pokes out. Until you wrap your arms around him and kiss him. It’s only been a few hours but it feels longer. Thor’s hands find your ass and hips, kneading them softly as he presses into your hungry kiss, “Hello,” he says, a little breathless when you pull away. “Hey,” you say smiling, “hungry?” He nods, “I still haven’t eaten anything.” You frown, “Why?” He blushes, “I was too busy wondering if it was too soon to call you.” You laugh and pat his belly affectionately, “Well, then let's feed you, hm? Sailing is hungry work.”

He nods and follows you down the dock to the diner. It’s open 24 hours a day and serves breakfast all 24 hours. You eat and talk, he tells you about the Avengers. About the Guardians of the Galaxy. You mostly talk about your brother. About your business. Talking about your parents just makes you sad. Thor doesn’t miss that. That you gently deflect questions about your parents but he doesn’t press. He’s too happy to be eating breakfast with you. Holding your hand and being “that couple,” even if it is noon and even if your smiles aren’t sleepy. You pay for the meal over his protests and simply tell him he can make it up to you by not tapping out early this time. You laugh and he chuckles, stopping on the street to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, carrying you giggling and protesting all the way back to your boat.

You start the engine and navigate the boat out of the harbor and into deeper water, out towards the open sea. Once you’re out there, you cut the engine and unfurl the sails. and strip off your t-shirt. There are some people out. Yachts and such but as you go, things thin out. Thor watches appreciatively. He would happily lay you down on a towel and part your thighs right there. The haze of heat and alcohol. The smell of coconut sun tan oil. Your laugh. The sound of the water. It feels like a dream and he doesn’t want to wake up. You coax him into taking his shirt off mostly by distracting him with kisses and easing his shirt up and off as you lavish attention on his belly and chest. Your ardor makes him forget to be embarrassed. Like the night before, you make him feel attractive. You pet and caress until he’s delirious with want. But you won’t let him touch you, dancing out of his reach. He drinks and watches you dance to the radio. You roll your hips and your breasts jiggle invitingly. He hardly knows what music is playing and he doesn’t care.

When the sun starts to set and the air gets cool, you disappear below decks for a little while, cooking he guesses by the smells. Nice smells. Meat and maybe pasta. The meat doesn’t surprise him. Werewolves he’d know before had eaten a lot of it. Mostly raw, though he would be surprised if you would eat it that way in front of anyone. It was a different time now and the couple he had met since his return to Midgard had been cautious not to eat raw meat in front of non-wolves.

You carry plates and two wine glasses up the steps, “Thor can you get the wine open?” you ask, setting the table. Thor nods and opens the bottle, bringing it to you and pouring glasses. “It looks lovely,” he says, kissing you. He pulls out your chair and helps you get settled at the table before taking his own seat. Dinner is quiet. Your skin is warm from the sun and in the evening light, you look content. Tipsy and flushed. Like you’ve had a nice day. Thor watches you as he eats, enjoying the meal after a day in the sun and salt air. His loins ache and he wants to take you below decks, back to your narrow but serviceable bed.

But when he realizes you have other plans, as you pull him to a pallet on the deck, he doesn’t mind. Hands roam and sighs quickly turn to moans and growls as he touches you all the ways he craved touching you. It’s mindless animal fucking. Sweat and salt air coat your skin as he drives you to bliss again and again. The stars are the only witness to the passion on the deck. Your growls and cries lost to the sound of the sea. The only break in the tranquility. At one point you go below decks but that doesn’t cool the fire. Thor fucks like a man possessed, determined for his stamina to outlast you this time. He needs to be inside you. He needs to feel what he feels when he’s in the dark with you.

Alive. Exhilarated. Sexy. You feed each other chocolate covered strawberries as you straddle his lap below decks. You’re both hungry but neither one of you is ready to stop. So he’s hard inside you as you feed him and he feeds you, both of you wine drunk and giggling. Neither of you has a care in the world. All there is is this. And the need to go “just once more, please?” When neither of you can be distracted by treats anymore, you do go again. You ride him and he bites your neck leaving you streaming his name. And when he brings you down gently, he tastes of chocolate and strawberries when he kisses you. Things gentle after that. He slows down, more intent on appreciating your body the way you had done his. He loves curves. He’s always adored curves on a woman. Softness he could lose himself in for hours as he admired the way the flesh felt under his hands and the way passion made your skin heat under his touch. You were perfection. All the things he adored. Humor and warmth. Beauty. Grace. A healthy appetite for pleasures that matched his own.

Shy women were fine. Thin women were fine. All women really were beautiful and wonderful in their own way. But you? You were what he loved best. In the dark when he could finally feel that you were boneless with exhaustion and truly could not go again, he pulled you close, cuddling you tenderly. He loved this. He’d missed this. Mindless animal sex was awesome. But this was intimacy. Aching to be with someone when they were right there in your arms asleep. Fighting sleep because you just need to be looking at them. He knows his brain is flooded with bonding chemicals but gods, he thinks. He really doesn’t want the night to end.

After you rest for an hour or so, you pull on some clothes and navigate them back to the dock. You’re covered in bites and so is he. You both ache, but neither one of you wants to be apart, still high on each other, “Breakfast?” you ask. Thor laughs and holds out a hand after he pulls on his shirt, “I’d be delighted.”

In the diner, holding your hands and playing with your fingers, he gives you a shy smile. He doesn’t want to think about you leaving. “Y/N,” he says blushing a little bit, “I think we need to talk.” You sip your coffee and smile wryly, “Is this where you tell me you have a wife?” Thor choked, “No, god no. I... I just. I think I love you,” he blurts out.

His face heats and you smile, kissing his hand, “You just now figured that out?” you tease. “It’s been two days Thor. Gosh.” He relaxes and laughs, “I just... I wanted you to know.” You smile, “I love you, too Handsome.”

Tags: @lancsnerd @innerpaperexpertcloud @stevieang

#Thor Odinson #thor x reader #chubby reader #smut #fluff

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1dreality · 6 years ago

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The New Direction of Liam Payne

Liam Payne discusses anxiety, romance rumours and what's next for the ex-One Direction star

Lucas OakeleyMay 30, 2019

It’s raining in West London. Every weather man, woman, and app had forecast that sunshine would be on the agenda for the day. But no. It’s raining. So, we’re stuck inside instead.

Alternating between balancing on a set of dumbbells and showing off adorable videos of his son, Bear, to the cooped-up crew, Liam Payne doesn’t seem to mind all that much about the weather. He’s used to plans changing pretty quickly.

Payne’s lived pretty much his entire life on fast-forward. He had his first X-Factor television appearance at the age of fourteen. He embarked on his first world tour with a little band named One Direction—you might have heard of them—only four years later. The band sold more than 50 million albums worldwide, and had four albums debut at number one in the US charts. He even found the time to meet the future mother of his child somewhere in-between. As for fatherhood, that’s a life achievement the singer notched at just twenty-three.

Payne might still be far from the shore, but he seems to be treading water at a more comfortable pace nowadays. “It took me a long to get my head around it,” he says, “and obviously at the same time I was having a baby and all that different stuff. So, there was a lot of s**t to go through at that time to get to where I am now.”

“I don’t feel the need to hide behind the clothes any more. I feel like I can finally be who I am and enjoy being myself”

“To be honest, they called me and it just seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. It was a direction that I knew I’d love to go down,” says Payne on how his partnership with the brand first came about. “It’s very rare that a big company like Hugo Boss comes around asking for you to be the face of it. It’s a bit of a dream come true actually.”

“I asked for this, I get paid very handsomely to be here and it’s part of my life and I get it. It’s alright. You can write what the f**k you want about me but when it comes to other people who work with me? That is not on.”

to do that—which is through my music.”

The din of noise that Payne has to compete with has increased somewhat substantially over the last two years thanks to the addition of his son, Bear. Although Payne attests that Bear is as “good as Goldilocks”, he’s aware that being a dad and a popstar aren’t easy responsibilities to balance.

“People make it out like a lightbulb comes on and suddenly you’re a dad and it’s like… no. [Being a father] is something you have to learn and I’m not afraid to say it takes more than a f**king minute to get your head around the idea of what it is.”

Payne might not have his head fully around the concept quite yet but, as we talk about his relationship with Bear, it becomes evident that Payne’s already nailed one of the most important aspects of being a dad: caring. “The not understanding is the most difficult bit,” he says with the weariness of a father well above his years, “especially when you have a toddler who doesn’t understand how to communicate and you can’t understand what they want.”

“Liam Payne prefers showers over baths”

“Liam Payne sleeps naked”

“Liam Payne has a phobia of spoons”

I’ll get days where I just don’t want to leave my house. Even if it’s just going to the shop. I’d be going i to order a coffee at Starbucks and I would sweat because I wouldn’t know whether I was doing the right thing or not. I would be thinking: ‘f**k, I don’t want to be here’.”

I saw Ocean’s Twelve last week. The word he’s looking for is agoraphobia.

#liam payne #liam’s solo project #liam for esquire #liam’s promo #This was a pretty good interview. Looks like Liam is trying the honesty approach and may have started to figure hinself out #Let’s hope that this honesty will be reflected in his new music

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psicomma-s-very-secret-lab · 6 years ago

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First night at the Asylum

This has been in my inbox (the old lab's inbox orz) for a looooong time and it's not even the oldest question LOL. I postponed my answer bc I wanted to incorporate some art here and I haven't had the chance to draw Shaun and Lo together in ages but man I feel like answering this after all this time cause their story is important even though it's been eclipsed by the story between Shaun and Ani ;__; (Girl look what a mess you've made smh)

Shaun and Loan's story is gross I'll tell you right away. If you want something cute or even remotely decent and healthy, better go on your way.

That question would actually require me to review all Asphyxia and Asphyxia Unplugged from A to Z, so I guess I'll only cover the encouter, from Loan's perspective here. Trigger warnings : violence, sex, drugs, French, and obscenely long post.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Loan is 18 when he meets Shaun for the first time. He recently left the family home to move to the big city. After a few weeks in university he realises he has absolutely no interest in pursuing an academic career and drops his literary studies. He begins to live at night and makes a few acquaintances; Madame Charlie, a drag queen and a retired sex worker owning a pub in Camden town quickly takes Loan under her wing and the Ace of Hearts becomes Loan's rehearsal place for him and his newly formed band, Asphyxia. Loan also finds a part time job as an apprentice tattoo artist thanks to his connections ; it amuses him for a while, less boring than uni but he doesn't take it very seriously either. Loan has a brief affair in the end of the year with a guy called Adrian, the only contact he kept from university. Adrian had a brand new kind of stress reliever he would use before his finals, and he generously offered to share some with Loan one night after an okay fuck. That's when Loan takes his first bite in the poison apple.

It was just a few puffs but the feeling heroin gave him was so amazing it got Loan coming back for more, and more and even more. His growing lust for the substance probably scared Adrian away cause the guy stopped answering Loan's calls eventually. That's when he thought it'd be a good idea to get wasted and drag his skinny ass up to the North of London in the middle of the night to get some by himself.

He was walking down your typical film noir stinky dark alley when two guys approached him and started to molest him. Loan never knew what sobriety and subtlety meant so he would always go outside dressed like a glam punk whore and it never failed to get him into trouble of course.

Loan fought back quite honourably, he even managed to give a nice black eye to one of his aggressors thanks to his armour ring. But he eventually ended up being kicked to the ground, curling himself up like a louse. He heard the loud barking of a big dog and the beating suddenly stopped. A voice coming from afar shouted across the alley "Aren't ya fucktards supposed to be working?" – Silence. The dog growled.- "'The hell are you lookin at? Get the fuck out of here." They left in a hurry, their tail between their legs. Loan heard the ferocious barks again when the two guys ran away, then he heard the panting breathing of the dog and its claws on the pavement ; it was coming near him. Loan opened an eye and despite his blurry vision he could distinguish the big, drooling face of an adult rottweiler being busy sniffing his jacket.

« Aika. » The dog immediately left Loan alone, going back to its owner’s side. He could see a long shadow stretching on the ground. He was only a few feet away, slowly getting closer.

Loan was still shuddering on the pavement when he saw a hand reaching out to him. His brain was too dizzy from the beating and the alcohol he didn't hesitate one sec before grabbing that hand. He was freezing and that hand was oddly warm. Loan stumbled as he got back on his feet. "Hey, easy there." Then he spat out some blood before finally looking at his accidental saviour.

And there he was. Shaun Myers. If only Loan had known all the trouble this man would bring upon him he would probably have run away like the devil was chasing him the second he met those eyes. He first noticed his height ; being 6'3'' and always wearing big combat boots Loan wasn't used to have to look up to meet the eyes of whoever he was talking to.

Shaun shamelessly rose Loan's chin with his hand, wiping some blood off with his thumb, suddenly noticing Loan's pretty features. The dog was staying still, only its tail wriggling slowly.

"You. You're definitely not a whore." He said scrutinizing Lo's bruised face. Loan said nothing.

"And you're far from home, aren't ya?"

"Kinda."

"What brings you here?"

"I don't know. What do you think brings people here?"

The dog didn’t seem very convinced by Loan’s answer and snarled, baring its teeth.

« Aika… » Its owner said, in a low but firm tone. The dog calmed down, sat reluctantly at Shaun’s feet, still visibly suspicious about Loan.

Shaun smiled, amused by Loan’s wit and his dog’s animosity towards him, then he lit up cigarette and Loan was instantly struck by Shaun's bicoloured gaze. Every single detail about his face set his insides on fire. But it only lasted for half a second- when the lighter swallowed back the flame the image got lost into Loan's numb mind and quickly faded into oblivion.

"Follow me."

Loan followed Shaun for what seemed like an eternity. The streets were poorly lit but he felt like everyone was looking at them -the hobos, the hookers, the creeps at their windows- it was like everyone was staring at his open lip and smudged makeup. Little did he know that people weren't staring at him because of his looks, but because of the tall dark stranger beside him walking with a huge rottweiler on the loose.

They arrived near what seemed to be an abandoned facility - probably used to be a school a few decades ago- some walls were partly demolished and the area was surrounded by Portakabins covered with graffitis that the builders must've been using by the time they were working on the site but now they were mostly squats for hobos and junkies. Shaun led him to a wobbly spiral service staircase and Loan almost fell a couple times trying to get down. "Watch your step" they ended up in a narrow alley - a smell of puke and liquor in the dry cold air - Shaun locked the staircase behind them as Loan started to hear some noise coming from nearby ; indistinct people chatting, dull basses, other big dogs barking...

« You wait here. »

He whistled and left with the dog. Loan noticed the animal was strangely calm and didn’t respond when it heard the other dogs barking from afar. Shaun came back five minutes later, without his beast beside him.

"This way."

He led him to the opposite direction the noises were coming from, to what seemed like a fire door. Shaun pushed it and suddenly Loan was overwhelmed by the harsh neon lights and the infernal hubbub saturating the air of what oddly resembled a hospital corridor. "You're gonna stay here or what? Move your ass." The high pitched, crass laughter of a girl almost broke one of Loan's eardrums as Shaun got him into another staircase. Dirty walls covered with obscene caricatures, tags, spray paint, a guy with his hands inside the panties of the girl he was making out with at the third flight of stairs...

They must've been two floors underground when Shaun stopped in front of one of the doors with a red "Keep out" sign on it. While he was searching for the right key inside of his hoodie, Loan lost himself contemplating the graffitis. He noticed a used condom sticked to the tread of his boot. "Putain fait chier. Merde." Then a few 'clicks' and the door opened. Shaun held it open for him as Loan got inside. Never in his entire life had he heard basses so fucking loud. He could barely see in front of him. The atmosphere reeked of sex and marijuana. He could glimpse some sweaty naked bodies kissed by the electric blue neons lights as the DJ was blasting the beat even louder. For a second he lost sight of Shaun and bumped into an obscenely obese guy making him spill some of his drink "I'll cut you motherfucker!" Loan felt a hand grabbing his shoulder and taking him away before the guy could do anything "Better not get lost, Alice, we're already late."

"Late for what? What the fuck is this place??"

"That's the Asylum babe, the only safe place for someone like you."

Loan was probably too wasted to understand that the Asylum was the actual name of this underground Babylon and he would learn later that Shaun wasn't exactly the type to make jokes anyway.

Crossing the dancefloor of the Asylum was like swimming into the dark waters of the Phlegethon. A long time ago that place used to be an olympic swimming pool, the echo and even the tiles on the walls were still here- but now it was just a gaping black hole swarming with the broken souls of the fallen ones.

As they arrived near the bar some girl, visibly quite drunk, made her way to Shaun and lasciviously wrapped her arms around his neck, Loan barely saw her murmuring a word to his ear before Shaun pushed her away with a rare violence. She fell on a guy who was sitting at the bar, spilling all the drinks and breaking some of the glasses. Her head hit the counter as she fell down, her ankles twisted in what must've been an awfully painful position. Loan stared at her unconscious body in shock - Shaun didn't even flinch when he brushed her off and started to make his way upstairs, without even looking back. "You coming or what?" It was only now that Loan actually considered whether he should really follow that guy or not. He looked at that girl - he could read the words she was muttering on her lips "help me... One hit... Just one fucking hit..." as a some blood was running down her forehead.

Loan shook his head and climbed up the stairs. Some fucking stairs again. Everyone was staring at him, was staring at Shaun, but Loan was honestly too busy staring at Shaun's ass through his Levi's to notice any of that.

Five minutes later this whole freak show seemed like a distant dream; the room where Shaun had taken Loan was quiet, so quiet it was hard to believe it was actually located in the same building. But here it was ; low ceiling, dim lighting, nothing on the walls where the yellowish white paint was partly bloated because of past inundations, no windows, just one queen size bed with messy sheets, a coffee table with an ashtray filled with cigarettes butts, a door half opened on what seemed to be a bathroom, and one big wardrobe facing the bed.

"Make yourself at home."

He sat on the bed as Shaun took off his jacket, beanie and hoodie, tossing them on the chair by the coffee table. Loan was ogling at each of his movements with impunity ; he was way too fucked up to give a damn about decorum.

"I'll be back in a minute."

Less than a minute later Shaun was back into the room, opening his big hand under Loan's nose. A tiny freezer bag, containing a tiny amount of what could've easily been mistaken for flour or icing sugar.

"Your poison, Snow White."

Loan took the bag, observed it in the light of the bedside lamp as if he had any fucking clue about what he was doing.

"That's 80£."

"80£??"

Shaun sighed "Jesus, you first timers are the worst. If you don't have the money I'm taking that back, also do I need to mention the house doesn't take credit cards nor cheques?"

"Fine." Loan glared at him shoving the bills into that greedy hand. Shaun hastily put the money inside his jeans' back pocket.

"Now do you wanna fuck?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said do you wanna fuck, like me and you."

"I-I'm not a whore."

"I know, that's why I'm asking you nicely."

Where the fuck was that guy coming from? Loan stared back at Shaun dead in the eye and saw he was serious. He tilted his head, pouted.

"Depends on what you have to offer."

In the blink of an eye Shaun pounced on him like a beast on its prey and before he knew it Loan was nailed to the bed, his face buried in the pillow. He could feel Shaun's hand pressing on his neck with a terrifying strength and he knew he could just snap it at any moment if he liked. He felt all his bulk lunging at his frail body as he leaned forward, until he was close enough so that Loan could feel the warmth of his breath against his ear.

"Just let me get this clear ; I don't have anything to offer. I'm gonna use you. I'm gonna take everything I want from you like it's my fucking birthday. And you're gonna love it even if in the end, you'll regret it, cause that's how it goes. You're probably gonna cry but it won't stop me. I'm not gonna give you my number, I'm not gonna give you a ride home, I'm not even gonna give you my name. Now if you're okay with that say yes."

"Y-yes. Please." Loan panted.

"Great." He said thoughtlessly before roughly pulling down Loan's jeans.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

If you read this then it means you have vanquished this monster post, YAY! Here's a cookie to help you recover from that exhausting and traumatizing experience : 🍪

And ofc, special thanks to @ramblingpolkadots for the question! 😁 it was probably not the answer you expected but hey, it was fun to write this at least

#ocs #asphyxia #loan #shaun #the asylum #first encounter #ask #ask answers #i actually wrote this a long time ago #but didn't publish it bc i needed to update it #cause aika wasn't present in the original version #and it would've been a shame not to mention that good boy

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thoughtsafter8 · 6 years ago

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Mental Health Awareness

Isn’t May Mental Health Awareness month? I think it is. I’m too lazy to google it. Unfortunately for me, mental health month is every month because *surprise* I suffer from several mental illnesses. I don’t really like to talk about the true depths of these illnesses, however, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hide the grittiest details of my poor brain. Just a couple weeks ago I had to leave work because I began to suffer a panic attack induced by exhaustion, dehydration, and a med imbalance that had happened because I did that fun depression thing where I feel good for a minute, so I think I don’t need to follow up with my doctor. Anyway, I thought maybe it would help if I just, you know, put it all out there. Maybe some of you guys feel this way. Maybe I truly am the hot mess I think I am and should be snapped into the looney bin. Either way, I think it may take a load off.

So, again, a little about me (the abridged and most current version). I am a 34 (how in the hell?) year old infant teacher’s assistant, student of early childhood education and intervention, mom, and wife. My son has autism and adhd, my husband has had 3 heart attacks in three years, and my daughter is currently treading the waters of gender/sexuality while coming to terms with her own autistic tendencies and the fact that she is a teenager. I decided at the age of 32 to go to college on a wing and a prayer directly after my husband’s first heart attack and suffering the trauma of losing the home we had lived and raised our family in for 10 years. We were, for a short time, homeless. We currently live in public housing and I couldn’t be more grateful in that regard.

Fortunately, our financial situation began to line out earlier this year as my husband’s long-awaited disability hearing was approved. Nearly 3 years of counting pennies, skipping meals, and taking hand outs later I could go to bed without worrying whether I could stretch those 3 chicken breasts in the fridge across 4 days and dreading the summers because I could not fathom how we were going to feed the kids without the help of their school meals. This was a grand old time for my depression because on top of all the worry and the guilt I had the aforementioned responsibility of working my very first job and pinning down 5 classes each through those first few semesters. And that sort of sets the stage for where we are now.

Below I will discuss my diagnoses individually. Yes, they are separate and yes, they are all interwoven. It’s all complicated to discuss and explain, but I’ll do my best.

Clinical Depression: While I only got this diagnosis about 8 years ago, I am certain that I have suffered from depression my entire life. I’ve had life long self esteem and inferiority issues and difficulty with concentration, focus, and relationships, specifically friendships. I’ve maintained thoughts of unworthiness, worthlessness, and guilt, as if I am a burden on those around me. That I cry too much or am too sensitive. I am quite sensitive. A close friend once told me that I am an empath, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes I do think it’s a bad thing. I’m hard on myself and will judge myself worse and before anyone else. This is specifically hard to deal with within my family as I have had to take the mantle of advocate for everyone. I’ve spoken at length of the struggles I face getting help for my kids and my husband, trudging through IEP meetings, and calling out people who use words like “retard” and “fag”. I have been forced so far out of my comfort zone that if I allow the depression even the slightest crack it will flood in. I’ve gotten better at this fight, but I still lose sometimes.

Anxiety: This one hasn’t been with me as long as the depression but started once we began to realize something was up with Gunner. Instead of fully recovering from trauma and moving on I love to internalize it. I think I put on a good face most of the time, but it has gotten so bad that even now, with everything that we have gotten through and managed to come out the other side, I do not trust it. I wake every day, not with a smile, but with a suspicion that today will be the day that everything I’ve worked for will come crashing down. My husband will fall sick again, something will happen to one of the kids at school, I’ll lose my job, have a car wreck on the way there, get a phone call that a loved one died or is sick. This sometimes manifests in OCD type behaviors. For example, I wake several times a night to make sure each member of my family is breathing. I have to see their chests rise and fall at least 5 times. I never let my kids wake Jeremy or come in to the house first after outings because I don’t want them to be the ones who find Jeremy dead. I worry. I worry so, so much. Sometimes I spiral and bite my nails until they bleed. For many years I suffered from dermatilomania, a body focused repetitive behavior aligned with self-harm where you basically pick at your skin or scabs to relieve internal tensions. This should be in a category of its own, but as I currently am not suffering from derma, I’ll let it go.

Imposter Syndrome: This is the newest one. And while it is not an actual diagnosis, I had no clue that there was even a word for the feelings that I began having once I started achieving personal successes. I am killing it at school and will graduate soon with an associate degree and 3 state certifications in early childcare and direction. Soon after I’ll begin pursuing a bachelor’s and managed to score a job in my desired field after just one semester in the program at a highly sought-after day care in my area. These are all good things! Amazing accomplishments some one like me should be proud of and own. It’s not that easy though. I’ve touched on this in a previous post, I think. It’s just so hard to see myself as a productive, professional type person. I bounce between feeling as if I don’t deserve my success and feeling crushing guilt at pursuing something that takes so much of my time away from my family, who still very much need me around. I am aware that a lot of people feel this way but combined with everything else I have going on upstairs, it makes it particularly difficult to overcome.

General Fear: Another not-actual-diagnosis, but something that goes hand in hand with the anxiety section of our tour is fear. Soul draining, insomnia inducing, heart breaking fear. Death is a biggy in this department. I fear for Jeremy, my mom, my grandma. Jeremy’s bad heart, my mom because, well, I don’t know what I would do without my mom, and my grandma because she is dealing with so many health issues. These three are the gates and cornerstone holding up my feeble mental fortress and if one of them is removed, everything will come down with them. I don’t really have any friends, so my family is supremely important and dear to me and I am constantly afraid of losing one of them. I also fear for my kids. The unending questions that come along with a kid/kids with special needs or circumstances. Will either of them ever be truly independent? Will Gunner be able to live alone, get a job, hold relationships, drive a car, get married? Will Daphne discover her truth? And in carrying that truth, will the world treat her with kindness? With her friends accept her decision? Am I prepared to deal with all this, god forbid, alone? The fear of doing *all this* by myself is maddening. I’ve never just been Brittany in my entire adult life. I’ve always been one half of a team. Surviving under different circumstances is something that, for over a decade, I never even contemplated. Now it’s every day life and that is terrifying.

With all this being said, and for those of you who don’t know me very well, this doesn’t mean that I’m sitting here hanging by a thread. I am still productive and love my school and work and family. This is all inside and as things have gotten harder to deal with I have come to the realization that I need the help of a professional. For several years I have relied on the help of different medications (currently I take Wellbutrin, Zoloft, and Vistaril. You can research these if you want) but I think it’s the right time for me to seek additional help. As of today, the referral has been submitted and now we wait. I hope to keep things documented through this blog both as documentation and anecdotes to share and as a means of measuring progress (or lack there of) and I hope some of you might share the journey with me. Thanks for listening/reading 😊

#mental health #mental disorder #positive mental attitude #anxious #anxitey #imposter syndrome #face my fears #fear #autism momlife #mom #momlife #lgbtq #teacher #movingon #therapy #student #studentteaching #strong

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missgeek83 · 7 years ago

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The Homelife Series - Part Two

TITLE: The Homelife Series - Part Two - Decadent AUTHOR: @missgeek83 RATING: NC-17 SUBJECT: Ed Sheeran AUTHOR’S NOTE: GUYS. This. Is super smutty. Straight pr0n. 17+/R/RR - you get the point. Icing, lingerie, and gin. Read at your own risk. Do not read at work. Do not read near others (unless, you know, they’re into that.) BUT - by all means, enjoy…

I sit the last cupcake down on the bed and stand back to admire my artwork. A heart made of red velvet and Oreo cupcakes trails around the black silk sheet, at the center a bottle of Ed’s favorite gin. It was chilling on ice, along with two tumblers and plenty of lime. It had been a long couple of weeks without him and I was past ready for some quality time. The cupcakes were just for giggles. I pull at the bottom of the red lace corset I’d invested in just for this occasion, trying to keep everything from spilling out. While I know he would appreciate a little overfill, it was still a bit chilly in the house. A thought I hadn’t taken into consideration when I decided to also wear the matching red lace thong and fishnets. I’m rolling my eyes at myself when I hear a ‘DING!’ echo from my phone beside the bed. Excitedly, I snatch it up to read the message.

TEDDY i’m five minutes away, love. can’t wait to see your beautiful face. My heart thuds in my chest, anxious to see the object of its desire. I slip on the matching robe to my outfit, a scant black lace with silk trim number, and tread carefully from the bedroom to the living room downstairs. I tap my toes against the hardwood in the foyer until I hear a car drive up. Taking a peek behind the curtain, I see Ed gathering his bags from the trunk of a cab. He’s causally dressed, in his standard jeans and a white tee under his black jean jacket. The wind has picked up slightly and it’s blowing his hair around as he reaches in to pay the cabbie. He waves him off and turns to grab his things and make his way toward the door. When he’s close, I unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open, hiding behind it. “Oh, thanks love. Blimey it’s cold out there.” He lets go of his suitcases and shuts the door. Immediately his eyes widen, then he smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Well, innit this a nice surprise?”“Welcome home,” I say, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He growls playfully, pulling me close. “Been waiting to ravish you ever since I got off the plane, you little minx.” His voice is breathy in my ear, his wind-chilled lips landing on my warm collar. “Oh, but Teddy, wouldn’t you like some dessert first?” “Hmm? Seems I got a perfectly good dessert right here…” He starts to nose his way up my neck but with a giggle I slip under his arms and dance toward the staircase. I look back to see him start after me, so I take off toward the bedroom and start to fill the tumblers with ice. When he enters, I coolly hand him a glass from my cross-legged position at the end of the bed. His eyes scan the scene in front of him. “There’s no way we can eat all these.” “Well, we’ll just have to find some way to use them.” I clink my glass to his and he shakes his head with a smirk before toeing off his shoes and sitting on the floor beneath me. I set my glass down on his night stand and run my fingers through his messy hair. It’s falling in curls at the nape of his neck, twirling around his ears and forehead, and his beard has grown considerably since the last time I saw him. Post-tour-Ed is often times my favorite version of him. He’s tired from the road and for the first week or so only wants to cuddle and hang out around the house. Usually by the end of the second week he’s restless, and I have to trade in my snuggle buddy for trips to the studio or out to see friends. That first night is always a good one, though, and I’ve learned to cherish the peace that comes with having him back. “So what have you been up to? Besides ordering the sexiest outfit on God’s Earth and trying to fatten me up?” He says this, but he’s reaching for an Oreo cupcake. “Besides that? Nothing. Finally hung the canvas though.” He turns to look behind him and chuckles. “Glad to see it fit. Best painting yet, if I do say so.” “Well, it’s the one you were physically the most involved with so I’m sure it holds a special place.” “Very good point.” He takes a massive bite of the cupcake, nearly half. “Mmm, dis is gewbt.” “I’m sorry, what now?” He laughs, cake crumbling down his shirt and onto the carpet. He holds up a finger, making a show of chewing what’s left in his mouth. “I said, this is good. Best bloody cupcakes I’ve had. Where’d you get them?” “I made them. I’ve also been baking a lot while you were gone.” “Damn. Got me a wee pastry chef. Aren’t I a lucky boy?” “Oh, you have no idea.” Tossing his empty wrapper aside, he looks me up and down. “I think I have a pretty good idea.” He sits up on his knees, wrapping his arms loosely around my hips. He bends his neck down to grab at the tie to my robe with his teeth, pulling it out of its bow easily. The pieces fall down between my legs and he uses his nose to part the two sides, trailing upward until he reaches the top of the corset. One hand leaves my back and he languidly traces the red lace, the tips of his fingers ghosting across my skin. “Tied yourself up all nice and neat huh, love? Best welcome home present a bloke could hope for…” He trails off as he slides a finger under the fabric of the corset, then across my nipple, and the rest of his fingers follow as he gently lifts a breast up and over the material. I let my head fall back when he takes it into his mouth and flicks his tongue slowly up and down, hardening my skin to a point. His other hand creeps down my inner thigh and I feel him trying to gain entrance to his favorite spot. Leaning back on my hands, I let my knees fall open further, allowing him to slide two fingers past the thin lace covering my sex. He traces the outline of my outer folds, and I can feel myself getting wetter with every pass. It takes no time for him to get the message and he delves a single finger inside, testing the waters. I look down at him to see him gazing up at me, his mouth still on my nipple. He gives me a wink and adds another finger. They curl upward with each stroke, but every time just barely miss where I need him most, and I whimper in frustration. “Shh, kitten. We’ve been apart too long, I’m gonna take care of you.” He pulls away and reaches for my panties, pulling them down and off before sticking them in his back pocket. I raise an eyebrow. “Saving those for later?” “Got all sorts of plans for you. Can’t spoil 'em now.” He pauses for a second, then reaches for a cupcake. Red velvet this time. He has a mischievous grin on his face, but not for long because he quickly takes a pass over the top of the icing to remove the sprinkles before dipping a finger into it. My brows knit, confused. “Trust me,” he says. Then he gently spreads the icing around my clit and the sensation alone jump starts my heart. I watch as he sucks the excess off of his finger and a shiver runs down my spine, straight to the place currently covered in cream cheese icing. I close my eyes, bracing myself, when suddenly his tongue sets to work cleaning up his mess. He hooks his arms under my thighs and it gives me an anchor just in time because the way he’s licking and sucking has my hips rotating. “Uhn, Teddy, yes.” I risk my balance to thread a hand through his hair, using the leverage to grind myself against his mouth. He responds by closing his lips around the area and sucking gently. It’s just the right amount of delicious pressure and I feel warmth starting to spread to each limb. He adds his fingers back, curling them up and pumping in and out in time with his tongue. “Pleaseeee. Oh, God, baby, please…more.” Without losing contact below, he uses his free hand to gently press on my stomach, signaling for me to lie back. For a moment I despair at losing sight of his curls, but he soon makes up for it by switching up his tactics. Deft fingers rub frantic circles against my clit while his tongue travels through each fold before dipping in and out of my sopping wet center. The bed is rocking with my movements, and a few cupcakes tumble off the end of the bed and onto the floor. I don’t have the capacity to pay them any mind as the fire from my limbs starts to culminate in my chest. After a few more strokes of his hand I can’t hold on anymore and fall off the edge completely. Months of missing him come together in a shout of his name and a sharp buck of my hips against his face. “FUCK! TEDY YES!” The sound reverberates off of the walls, and the black sheet rips away from the top of the bed, clutched tightly in my left hand. Tremors are still rolling through me as I relax on the bed, heaving. When I can finally open my eyes and sit up I see Ed downing the last of his drink. He stands up and bends over me, reaching for the bottle to pour himself another one. Directly below my shoulders, I can see the outline of his hard on straining against his jeans. The thought of it has me licking my lips and itching for round two. I reach out and begin to undo the button, catching a look from Ed, drink poised at his bright pink lips. Our eye contact holds as I push his jeans to the floor and start to slide his boxers over his erection. There’s a tremble from him, the ice in his glass rattling against the sides, when it’s freed and standing straight up in front of me. I grab one of the remaining cupcakes. “Wh-” His voice cracks. He clears his throat. “What’re you gonna do with that?” With an innocent wink, I smear the icing up the length of his cock. Then, with no warning, I take his entire length down my throat. He sputters and the tumbler joins the three or so cupcakes on the carpet. His hands reach under my ears and grip the hair at the base of my skull to hold on as I take him down, his head hitting the back of my throat each time. He’s moaning loudly, using the momentum to fuck my mouth as hard as he knows I’ll allow. I snake a hand up his thigh and press my thumb to the spot just behind his balls, applying a decent amount of pressure. He responds spectacularly, throwing his head back and pulling hard at my hair. I release him for a second, watching his glossy eyes roll down to meet mine. “Mmm, Teddy, you gonna cum for me?” I dive back in for more, but he pulls my head back, then looks as if he immediately regrets it. “No, not yet. Get on your knees.” I do as he says and feel him run his hand over my side, then down my ass. Shortly after it leaves my skin, he slaps it back down, hard, and the sting makes me jump. I feel his head poke at my entrance and after an up and down pass, he starts to push inside. My hands clench the sheet in front of me and every synapse in my brain sings at finally, FINALLY, being full. It was almost enough to bring tears to my eyes, the feeling of being completely engulfed after so many nights alone. Each of his hands come to grip my sides, planted firmly at my hips. He doesn’t spend a second on a slow rhythm, choosing instead to steadily pummel my slick channel. I take the beating for a few minutes, relishing in the sounds coming from his pretty mouth. Then I start to squeeze. His strokes become deeper, harder, but I can hear his breath hitch with each pass. He all but growls when I use all the muscles I can muster to trap him, making it as difficult as possible for him to pull out. “Over.” He turns me on my side and lefts a leg over his elbow. He kneels down behind me and positions himself before slipping back inside and the new sensation brings a moan from deep in my throat. The first few strokes are tentative, gauging how far out he can go and how fast, and then his tempo picks up considerably. Using my leg to keep us close together, he slams his pelvis against mine with fervor. “Look.” It’s an order. “Watch me fuck that pretty little cunt.” My eyes snap down to where our bodies are connected, watching his girth pound in and out. I whimper. “You wanna cum, baby?” The whimper turns into a cry and I nod. “Touch yourself. Want you to go with me.” He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Immediately a hand shoots out to rub my over-sensitized nubbin and we both work at a frantic pace. He’s cursing under his breath, his words being cut off by the exertion of each thrust. Sweat drips from his forehead down his face, and I feel it hit my thighs as it’s flung off the point in his chin. I’m wailing by now, brain frying orgasm imminent and unstoppable. “Fuck-baby-cumming-so-hard-FUCK-YES-FUCK-FUCKKKKKKKK!” His last frenzied drives differ in speed as he spills his load inside me. Watching his face pinch in ecstasy couples with the last pass over my clit before my vision burns white hot and I strangle him inside me. He falls behind me, huffing, and I hear the entire ice bucket tilt sideways and crash to the floor. My face sinks into the sheet and I start to laugh, despite still being short of breath. “Room is a disaster,” he mutters. Then a groan. “And now I have icing in my arse.” Rolling over, I see him move a stray sweet from under his backside and chuck it at the trashcan. He misses. “It’s ok, cleaner comes tomorrow.” I pat his arm condescendingly. “Besides…round three?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. “How about instead we take a nice shower and snuggle with some telly, yea?” His goofy smile is infectious. “Mmm. Sounds perfect.” After the time we’ve spent apart, it actually sounds like the best idea ever. --------- Part one here. Masterlist here.

#Ed Sheeran #Ed Sheeran fanfic #Smut #Smutty #Fanfic #The Homelife Series #Hold onto your boots

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prairiedust · 7 years ago

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Song of Solomon (revisited)

So to say that Brad Bucker and Eugenie Ross-Leming are ham-fisted is an understatement. Other writers may use elegant golden quills to craft their stories, Buckleming uses a hammer and smashes plots into submission.

Thus, naturally, their idea of subtext is to have a three second shot of the Song of Solomon after Dean literally throws the Bible at Jack.

They are to subtext what sociopaths are to emotional intelligence. They’ve heard it described and try to emulate it, but they don’t seem to understand it.

So, Song of Solomon.

Why would Jack not turn to Genesis? Like, he can read, but he doesn’t know how to start a book at the beginning? Genesis is also the book of “begats,” which lists all the descendants of Adam and Eve ad infinitum, and Jack is concerned with his lineage, so thematically it would fit. Why, would he not flip to 21:23, “Show to me and the country where you now reside as a foreigner the same kindness I have shown you,” since Sam is so concerned with teaching him to be A Force For Good TM.

But no. I have a feeling that Dabb said, “Make this season meta!” And he wrote 13x01 as a template– he showed us acrobats twirling on strings and strange bejeweled creatures enacting half-understood tales of grief and innocence…. And then the next act on stage was the roustabouts telling rape jokes. (No offense to roustabouts, it’s just a metaphor.)

So you have a writing team that can’t do nuance and don’t do very good subtext (how hard the meta writers strive to make sense of their episodes!) or refuse to because, again, dysfunctional. What do they give us for destiel subtext?

THE SONG OF SOLOMON.

I’m sure I’m late to the party and that other writers more insightful than I have already tread this ground, but I’d like to wander this path, as well, and talk about the steamiest book of the Bible.

Sex is a big deal in the Old Testament. Everybody was obsessed with having kids, or with barrenness, with who was sleeping with who, and who could and could not get married (guys, you can’t marry your sister. Sorry I don’t make the rules.) In Genesis, marriage is described as a couple “becoming one flesh.” That book also contains the story of Tamar, who had sex with her own father-in-law for a goat. There’s David, the adulterer, who knocked up Bathsheba. Lot screws his own daughters. Good times.

But the Song of Solomon. Song of Solomon is about love and passion.

The book’s conceit is that of a series of poems from two lovers, each describing their love, devotion, and carnal desires in turn.

It begins, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for your love is more delightful than wine. Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like the perfume poured out.”

“My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts… Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste… I am faint with love.”

The man says, “My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely…”

We should all be so lucky to be so intoxicated with passion for another person.

There is one particular passage that I love where the woman tries to retire for the night, but her lover isn’t to be found. She restlessly, desperately combs the city in search of him—“I will get up now and go about the city; through its streets and squares; I will search for the one my heart loves.” She comes across the night guards and they beat her up, but she finds her lover and her wounds don’t even matter at all.

While at one point the man praises the fact that the woman he is enamoured with still has all of her teeth— “each has its twin, not one of them is missing” – it is a powerful, powerful love story.

My absolute favorite passage, though, (which I constantly misremember,) is this:

Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away.”

Read it. It’s amazing.

Sooo, basically, this allusion is about as subtle as a brick wall.

We’re used to looking for hidden pictures like ships on window shutters, and here we are now, Buckleming literally just throws the Bible at us and says, “Here, have some Teen and Up smut with tooth-rotting fluff on the side.”

I’ll never forgive them for April Kelley or Charlie or Jack’s self-harm or even for putting “I’ll be the one to kill you” in Dean’s mouth, but they did give us this…

I’m more persuaded that what Dean and Cas have surpasses just sexual attraction, and this connection they’ve been dancing around for almost a decade burns very deeply indeed.

But this is Buckleming, they just don’t get it.

So they gave this to us.

Alrighty then.

*All quotes taken from the New International Version. And I'm not a canon-positive blog but god damn this was powerful.

#spn meta #my meta #song of solomon #screw it #destiel #like i don't know if they'll really go there #i'm old and cynical #but you just can't deny the song of solomon dude

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arcticdementor · 6 years ago

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I’ve never voted. Well, I lie, I voted once. I was 18, and my mother sorta forced me. It also felt like some rite of passage, you know, you grow to 18 and you get to do grown-up stuff like voting, having a voice in the political process. I’ve never been into rituals though, and I felt stupid immediately after putting my vote in the box. I didn’t even like the guy! I thought he was retarded. All of them, really. I still do.

Of course ever time there’s an election people would ask me now and then who I’m gonna vote to. I evolved a series of bunch of canned answers. First one was “Nah they all suck”. Then I read Bryan Caplan’s Myth of the Rational Voter and started saying “one vote doesn’t count anyway”. This triggered huge discussions if there was even a single Boomer at home. “But if everyone thought like you nobody would vote!!”.

-“Well sure but my not voting doesn’t influence other people’s behavior”.

“But you have to vote, if nobody voted…”

-“It doesn’t follow that if I don’t vote then other people don’t vote”.

“But you have to vote, if everyone did like you”

-“Where on earth are you taking that ‘if’ from?

“But you have to vote……”

You should try this, it’s hilarious. They just go in an endless loop bug. Talk about NPCs.

…

And then… Trump happened 3 years ago. It took me a while to get into Trump. I didn’t care about elections, you see? Elections don’t matter. It’s all the same. And not being American I knew little about the guy. I’d seen him on TV now and then but besides him being this kinda sleazy showbiz guy I couldn’t care much about him.

But I was on Twitter, and I was watching all the outrage, and man, Trump was good. He wasn’t good, good. He wasn’t Moldbug. Not even Pat Buchanan. Trump is really inarticulate, I don’t know his verbal IQ but he has the vocabulary of a dumb 10 year old. And yet he got his points across. Good points. Drain the Swamp. NATO is pointless. Make America Great Again. China is ripping us off. You’d be in jail. No more senseless wars. BUILD THE WALL. All great, and most importantly, hilarious ideas. Trump was trolling everyone that I hated, the press, the bureaucrats, the whole Cathedral was up in arms against him, and *he was fighting back*. Successfully! He was talking shit to AIPAC! I just couldn’t help myself. Trump was my guy. I couldn’t vote for him, I’m not American, but I would have. Honest to god, I’d wake up early and vote for Donald Trump.

…

Fast forward 2 and a half years later. No wall. No jail for Hillary. Narrowly avoided jail himself! The swamp is a big as always. Forever war still going on. Spending more time tweeting about Israel than his own country. Shits on Ann Coulter and says he wants more legal immigration. Did I mention no wall? What a disaster. Trump has been a huge and complete disappointment. Again, I don’t dislike the guy personally. I mean I never *liked* him. He’s weird, talks like a retarded 10 year old. I’d say I’d probably wouldn’t enjoy having a few beers with him but he doesn’t even drink. But I don’t hate the guy, I think odds are his heart is in the right place. He just can’t get stuff done. He’s incompetent. I mean, it’s hard. It was always hard. One just doesn’t come in as a complete outsider and reform the whole government from scratch. Then again, people who work in the heart of the beast, in Washington DC, tell me he’s just incompetent.

…

So now what? Back to Moldbuggian detachment? Nothing ever changes, huh. The Cathedral really is all powerful. Ever since Trump made some protests about the intelligence agencies being disloyal or outright attacking him, the Establishment feels so powerful they just blatantly say in the press that the CIA are the good guys. Does nobody remember that the CIA being evil was pretty much proven by the 1960s, and that evil CIA ops have been a staple of books and films for decades? Not anymore; they’re not content with being powerful in the shade. They want outright public submission.

Democracy really is a sham; but it’s hard to go back to detachment now that Bioleninism is out in the open. Elections now are openly not about economic policy or social conservatism. Elections now are about the speed of the dispossession of white straight males. It’s for or against Bioleninism. The majority of candidates of the Democratic party are openly talking of “reparations” for black people, i.e. outright Danegeld. And don’t get me started with open hunt to mess with the sexual hormones of white children in schools. It’s going on right there in the open.

The US has an election next year, the campaign is starting now. Given the present demographic trends, it is very likely that Florida, if not Texas, will flip blue very shortly; that means a rock-solid majority for the Democratic party, forever. Donald Trump is likely to be the last white male president in American history. The 2020 election is probably going to be the last election which is more or less contested. Trump does still have a chance.

But Trump is incompetent. He’s not helping. He’s just treading water while another million Third-world immigrants sneak in, another middle-school boy gets injected estrogen because he doesn’t like football, and another hundred-thousand white men just overdose on opioids because you can’t even play a videogame today without being forced to play a black woman avatar. Can you support this guy? I sure can’t. Again, not my nation, but I wouldn’t. I won’t call him a traitor, although many have. But he didn’t build the wall. He’s letting Amazon, Facebook and Twitter campaign openly against him and censor everything to the right, and he hasn’t lifted a finger. He doesn’t deserve support.

…

Seriously though, to the extent Bernie represents a constituency that’s not for instant Brazilification, I wish him well, but he’s old and frail, and his program isn’t very interesting. And most importantly, his own constituency is being taken over by a guy who’s 10 times smarter, is young, has actual good ideas, is not white and will give the Bernie crowd everything they want, and more. Much more.

To be precise, $1,000 a month more.

Come Andrew Yang.

…

He’s the only candidate in this whole race that doesn’t talk like a bugman. You know what a bugman is. All those politicians and corporate guys who talk in that odd and disingenuous jargon designed to obfuscate. High-grade NPCs, that’s what bugmen are. Well, he isn’t. He goes straight to the issues, analyzes them intelligently, and then has a plan. It may be or may not be a good plan. But I dare you to show me a presidential candidate with a higher IQ than Andrew Yang in the last 30 years. That’s even more of a feat because the guy is East Asian, and God knows East Asians tend to be bugmen too.

The guy even wrote a book called The War On Normal People, which is the perfect definition of the Left. I should use it as a subtitle for a Bioleninism book.

…

But a big part of it is just pure appreciation for the guy. Look at his interview with Tucker. You might remember my last post on Tucker, and how he’s revolutionized conservative commentary in the US by arguing that the focus of government should be taking care of working families. Well, Tucker himself liked Yang, and it’s no wonder he did. Yang is the candidate who’s using the closest arguments to Tucker. By far. He’s lamenting the plight of the working man. He’s calling to help the rural white middle class who’s being ravaged by the opioid suicide crisis. Note that Trump has said some stuff about that, and has tried to get China to stop exports of fentanyl, but he didn’t mention white people by name. Yang did, just like that. He’s the only guy who’s not only overtly or covertly calling for your extinction; he’s the only guy on the record for trying to stop it.

…

And, he’s promising to stop it by taxing the hell of the Enemy. Which again, as Tucker mentioned, isn’t a huge abstract thing The Jews or the Left. No. The enemy is Big Tech. It’s Amazon, it’s Google, It’s Apple. It’s Facebook. It’s Twitter. It’s Woke Capital. It’s those guys who aren’t only taking your jobs, they’re using their monopoly in the management of information to censore us, hide us, slander us and ostracize us. You might remember that Trump also hinted at doing something about that. Regulate Facebook and Twitter as utilities to make sure the Right could actually fight the Culture War, and perhaps show that there’s a majority of people against injecting synthetic hormones into 12 year old children. That he’d make big tech build in America and stop avoiding taxes with blatant laundering tricks. Well, Trump did nothing, and he’s avoiding the topic. Yang isn’t. I have nothing against Amazon’s business, but Bezos chose sides by buying the Washington Post and recently going on a censorship spree, banning right wing books from Amazon. He must pay. Yang says he will.

I don’t know if UBI would work. Americans are crying bloody murder about a proposed 10% VAT. I say cry me a river. Europeans have a 20% VAT. It’s annoying, but it’s not a big deal. Smart people say that automation is overhyped, it’s not growing that fast, self-driving cars, one of the biggest talking points of Yang, are likely to not even happen after all. That may be true. But I’d like to say that the beauty of UBI is not that it’s actually necessary in the way Yang says it is, to give people something to fall back on while they find a new job.

Tucker is also worried about the middle class trucker. But Tucker’s answer is to ban automation. Go full Luddite. Yang is talking about automation a lot. But he doesn’t want to stop it. By implementing UBI he wouldn’t stop automation, he’d accelerate it. Businesses would start automating like crazy once people left unsatisfying jobs to go play Fortnite on UBI or try an instagram e-thot career. A big majority of white collar jobs are complete and utter bullshit make-work made by government regulation to keep people busy and have some income to tax. If Yang succeeded in his proposed plan to completely change the regulatory paradigm to adapt to the computer economy at last, companies could actually get rid of all the inefficiencies, and automate everything. Starting with the bureaucracy.

…

Well China is pushing hard for developing AI and automation. Which is weird in a country which could have a serious unemployment problem if automation goes on. But China doesn’t care. Why not? Because China has realized that with Internet and modern computing, they don’t need the corporations to manage the people anymore. They can do it directly. Everybody has a mobile phone with a camera and a microphone 24/7 with them. The government knows your every move. You don’t need to shame people into buying your ideology by threatening with firing them from their jobs, like America does. That’s so 20th century. Now you can control behavior directly with internet surveillance. Social credit is an extension of this trend. It boggles the mind that accelerationists aren’t talking more about this. Not saying it’s a good thing. But the tech is here and it’s happening anywhere. The only place where it isn’t happening is Europe because we’ve outsourced it to American companies.

If you think UBI might work at giving people hope and readjusting the economy in a more just and fair way, sticking it to the oligarchs, vote for Yang. If you just want $1,000 a month, vote for Yang. If you think UBI would crash everything, vote for Yang, as this gay earth deserves crashing. If you just want UBI to show people that democracy inevitable ends with the people voting themselves money and thus proving democracy is a sham and discredit it as a political system, vote for Yang.

And if you want the final death of 20th century politics, and a new paradigm which breaks with the thievery of Boomers inflating the currency so that asset prices are rising through new records every year, while young people have to go through unpaid internships and ‘gig economy’ servitude until their 40s, while the Bioleninist government is busy with the soft genocide of every productive person with natural biological instincts.

Then Vote for Yang. I rest my case.

#bloody shovel #spandrell #andrew yang

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kyndaris · 4 years ago

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Treading Water

Please enjoy another short story. I’ve also uploaded this to my FictionPress for a better layout.

On a side note, I’ve almost finished writing Control State and will then proceed with the very thorough nature of editing my first conspiracy thriller story. To be honest, I’ve wanted to delete it several times but sometimes it’s good to try different things - even if they don’t work out or are as good as one would hope. To be fair, I didn’t have much of an idea for the ending and it probably shows. Let’s hope that my editing/ rewriting skills are up to scratch and it won’t seem as terrible as what I think it is.

----

The water was cold, chilling me right to the bone. My life seemed to flash before my eyes as it built up to this moment when I would have to sink or swim.

It was hard to breathe. Everything I had on me was pulling me down, dragging me into the depths of the river…

Most people have heard of the saying: ‘Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.’ It’s often used to allude to the fact that it’s unlucky for a woman to serve as a bridesmaid for two or more weddings. A harsh judgement, particularly if they haven’t found the one and settled down. The same can also be said of men. I can count on both my hands and a foot, the number of times I’ve been a groomsman to one of my friends. Yet, despite my best efforts on numerous dating sites, I’ve never been able to keep up a steady rapport for more than a month or two.

It’s both heartbreaking and a confidence-killer.

I like to think of myself as a nice guy. Charming, chivalrous, great listener and spinner of fantastic tales.

The one problem? Making them stay.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s my breath? That I love my job? Or perhaps I’m fundamentally broken, especially after what happened back during my teen years. Before mum passed away.

But I think the real kicker is something else. And not just in regards to my love life. I’m nearing forty and live with my married sister, her husband and their two terror toddlers. A live-in uncle, if you will. It has a few perks, I’ll admit. The low rent, the free food, shared Netflix subscription…

Yet, nothing else turns the ladies off faster than staying the night. For one, there’s absolutely no privacy. And two? Well, honestly, who’d want to bump into a possible future in-law while sneaking out at five in the morning, sore between the legs?

Some of my colleagues have asked why I haven’t moved out. Found my own place instead of trying to share it.

My answer has always been the same. This is my home. Mum left the house to both me and my sister. Built in the vein of the old Tudor-style houses of the early twentieth century, it’s a haven of memories. I wouldn’t part with it for all the money in the world, even if the cost of renting a place wasn’t so exorbitant that it would take out about 80% of my entire salary.

Perhaps if I wanted to start my own family, I might move out to the suburbs. For now, however, the house catered to my needs with the occasional annoyance. If it wasn’t my nephews trying to sneak into my mancave, it would be the in-law nagging about the upkeep for the one and a half rooms I’d commandeered as my rightful share.

God. Sometimes I wondered what Jennifer ever saw in Shaun. He’s rude, has a holier-than-thou attitude and is a goddamn prick just because he has a doctorate in economics. I hate how he thinks he’s so much better than me because he has an impressive six-digit salary. And if I could rip the smirk from his face, I would. Jen could have literally found anyone else and it would have been better. Well, perhaps not a drug addict. Jen does have some standards.

In any case, my one solace in a life mired by a myriad of difficulties was work. Admittedly, it was not initially my dream job. Over the years, however, it’s grown on me. The clientele, the fact that I’ve been able to make a difference in the lives of people from all walks of life, and the fact that I’m regarded as a valuable member of the team. I like to think that’s because of my natural inclination to fostering a positive atmosphere.

As team leader, it was my responsibility to make sure everything was running smoothly. Like I said before, I’m a nice guy. More importantly, I wanted to make our company the best there when it comes to delivering a vital service to the people of the city. And if that meant staying back for an hour or two, I’d gladly take it. Particularly because, in recent months, we had seen a lot of new staff moving through.

And, with my wealth of experience, it had fallen upon me to train them and ensure that the work they were doing was of the utmost quality. Simple, really.

“Joe, could you come into my office? We need to talk.”

I looked up from my screen. The sudden spike of annoyance I felt was quashed immediately and a smile graced my lips as I nodded briefly to Annie – a dear friend, now manager and acting head of our division. We had worked together for many years before she had received a well-deserved promotion. And unlike many others that had passed through, she knew the work and was willing to listen.

“Just a few minutes, Annie. I need to wrap up this last email,” I said. She gave me a nod before disappearing into her office.

Reluctantly, I turned my attention back to the essay that I had been composing. One of the main problems that I faced with the increased rotation of new staff was the significant dip in client satisfaction. Complaints had increased and the workload was piling up. And someone had to make sure that it didn’t reach an unmanageable level.

Enter: me.

I had been with the company for almost two decades. As soon as I had stepped out of university, diploma in hand, I had applied for the graduate program. Along with Annie, I had been one of the lucky few to be accepted. Ever since, I’ve remained with the company, working my way up the chain of command. With all that experience behind me, it seemed appropriate that I tackle the jobs that we were struggling to fill. I owed it to the one place that brought me solace from the goings on in my life.

At first, I’d start by adding a few minutes here and there to finish off urgent emails. A year later, and with new staff constantly churning their way through, it had become a good three or four hours extra every day.

Not that I’d complain, of course. But perhaps Annie had noticed all the elbow grease I was putting in to keep the company afloat, the clients happy, and making sure all the newbies were doing things right.

Once the email met my exacting specifications, I sent it off. Locking my computer, I brought my mug of coffee with me into Annie’s office.

There was a solemnity to her that I had never seen before. Hands tented before her and brow furrowed, she looked all forty-three of her years. The ring on her finger was a reminder that she had been married for fourteen of those and had two children. Though she had tied her hair back, a strand of grey had managed to come away.

“If this is about Laundale, I’ve just dealt with them,” I said as I sat down in the chair opposite hers. “Hopefully, by offering them a discount for the next job, we can regain a bit of our reputation and goodwill. I know we can always find another customer, but they’ve been with us for years. Besides, it was a simple mistake, easily rectified.”

“What? Oh. Yes. Thank you for that Joe.”

There was something amiss. I could sense it. “What’s wrong, Annie? Did I do something wrong? Things have gotten hectic, what with all the new staff that keep coming through and I’ve tried to train them as well as can be. And I know you didn’t ask it of me, but I’ve also been looking out for any disasters on the horizon, mitigating any damage as best I can. There’s only one of me, though—”

“Actually, that’s why I’ve called you in, Joe. We’ve had complaints.”

“Who? Belinda? Mary? Look. I get it. They’re not the best workers to have. I’ve been hovering over them like a mother hen trying to make sure they don’t slip up on the next big job. Offering them assistance, checking up on them, reviewing their work—"

“Joe, the complaints have been about you.”

“Me?” I asked, astonished. Who would be complaining about me? I was a valuable asset with the company. I knew the ins and outs of the systems. Knew how best to placate each client. It couldn’t have been about me. “That’s impossible.”

Annie leaned forward. “I’m afraid it is, Joe.”

“On what grounds?”

“Harassment. Bullying. Microaggression. And extensive micromanagement,” said Annie. “I’m sorry, Joe, but my hands are tied. I need to put you on leave while we investigate these claims.”

A hot flush enveloped my neck and my face. I rose to my feet. “Who was it? Who’s spreading these lies about me?” One hand slammed against the desk before I could rein in the impulse. I needed to know who would slander my good name after all the things I had done to keep the company afloat. I needed to know who would ruin my one sanctuary in the world.

“You know I can’t tell you, Joe. The complaints are anonymous. Even if I knew the names, company policy means I can’t disclose them to you.”

“This is bullshit, Annie. You know it is.”

Annie let out a sigh. “As I said, Joe, this is out of my control.” She reached out and patted my hand. “Look, see it as a holiday. We can put you on miscellaneous leave. Two weeks and you’ll be back. And this whole thing would have blown over. What we can’t do is give the impression that we’re sweeping this out of the rug.”

After all my years of loyal service and this was how they were going to treat me? I threw Annie a look that spoke of the depth of her betrayal. As she opened her mouth to placate me again, I left. Her small office was stifling. Behind me, the door closed with a slam and I returned to my computer.

Once seated, I took a few deep breaths. It was the only thing I could do to slow the panic that was gnawing at my gut and threatening to erupt. When that didn’t work, I retreated to the restroom. Closing the door to the stall, I sat on the toilet and pondered who would say such terrible things about me. I was Joe. The friendly team leader. Tireless to a fault. Always looking out for the good of the team.

I went through everyone in the office, trying to figure out the vindictive bootlicker that had sullied my character. A few came to mind. Belinda. Mary. Stephen. They were the three most likely suspects.

Yet to come out of the gates, screaming for their heads would only further paint me as the villain. To even ask around, after being seen entering Annie’s office, would make plausible their accusations. Shit. Shit. Shit. Trapped in a Catch-22, my only option was to do as Annie had bid.

Dejected, I flushed the toilet and left.

Whoever it was had ruined my life. I returned to my seat, logged in and looked blankly at the mass of emails that sat in our inbox. Clicking into my own personal work one, I had a look through all the other tasks that needed to be done in the coming days.

There was so much to do. But by the end of the day, Annie had made it clear that I was not expected to step foot in the office for the next fourteen days.

Without my guidance, how were we to keep the company going?

“Did you hear about Joe?”

My ears perked up at the mention of my name. I looked around. Near the kitchen, I spotted Mary and Samantha, engrossed in conversation. I ducked behind the partition before they could spot me.

“Shh! Keep your voice down. What if he hears?” said Mary.

“Let him. He needs to know that he can’t get away with these things. Ever since I joined mid last-year, I’ve felt his breath down my neck. His eyes on the back of my head. He won’t say anything that fits the description of ‘bullying’ but I can’t keep working like this.”

There was a pause. “I know. I heard the rumours, of course, before signing on too. Didn’t believe them until I witnessed it firsthand. Joe always acts like he can get away with anything because he and Annie started at the same time.”

“Do you think something might be going on between them?”

“There might have been something there but Annie’s been married for fourteen years. And happily, from all accounts. Still, I wouldn’t put it past them if they’ve got an arrangement.” Laughter followed. Then footsteps.

Hurriedly, I opened up a word document and began typing something nonsensical. As Mary and Samantha walked past, I gave them a jaunty wave, a forced grin stretching my lips.

The pair of them returned it, though Samantha leaned up to Mary’s ear to whisper something. Mary giggled; a hand pressed to her lips in a rare display of coquettishness that belied her nose for salacious gossip. It was probably another dig at my character. Or an attempt to smear the only good relationship I had in the world. The bitches.

I watched as they rounded the corner and disappeared from view, most likely returning to their seats and a full day of work. Immediately, the grin fell and I flopped back onto my chair. Any motivation for work had deserted me as soon as Annie had called me into her office. But the idea of taking a personal day when the day was already half done did not sit right with me. I would just have to power through and then ponder my life’s direction after I had clocked off for the evening.

As I picked up my mug, I found the coffee cold and disappointing. I spat most of it out. It seemed that I’d have to make a fresh brew. While I usually asked Rina, it seemed particularly poignant that I did it myself. After all, why add further fuel to the fire? They already saw me as a monster. Wouldn’t want another complaint of office bullying or harassment. And over a simple cup of black.

God. When had everything gone so wrong for me? Charming. Charismatic. Those were the words most of my friends had described me back in my university days. And they were the descriptors I had put into my dating profile. I was a bloody nice guy. It was evident that the birds in the office were too blind to see. Except, of course, Annie. She was the only one who really saw me. A shame, then, that she had married so early.

Jackson greeted me in the kitchen. A mature hire, he had joined the company shortly after Annie and I, though he had a wealth of experience behind him. Over the years, his hair had thinned and his stomach had become a solid beer keg. Despite all that, he had a mind like a steep trap. For that very reason, he had risen to the comfortable position of senior manager of Accounts.

Ever since I had known him, he took his lunch early. At 11.30 rather than the prescribed lunch hour. An empty Burger King wrapper sat before him.

“How’s the family?” I asked as I turned on the coffee machine and set a pod into it.

He finished licking his fingers. “Oh, the usual,” he replied in his deep sonorous voice. “They might be all grown up, but sometimes they’re just as helpless as when they were newborns.” He laughed at this, slapping one dark hand against his leg.

“And Lorelei?”

“As lovely as the day I first met her. Have I told you that it’s our anniversary next week? Think you give me some advice on what to get her in the next couple of days?”

I put my mug into the receptacle and pressed the start button. “Actually, I’ll be on leave for the next couple of weeks.”

The big man frowned. “During our busiest period? What the hell is Annie thinking letting you go like—oh. Right. That.”

“So, you know?” I tried to keep the question casual but my shoulders had tensed and the hairs on the back of my neck had stood up to attention.

Jackson nodded. “I’ll tell you what I told Annie. It’s utter bullshit,” he said. “The young people these days, they’re all bloody snowflakes. Can’t say anything without them turning around and going it ain’t politically correct. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“Right? I’ve only been doing what’s best for the company. Helping them out, fixing mistakes.”

“It’s hard to see a good employee get punished for just doing what it takes. Don’t worry, Joe. It’ll all blow over. You’ll see. Then everything can go back to normal.”

His words helped soothe the ache in my chest. Blinking back the sudden onset of allergies, I picked up my coffee and effusively thanked Jackson from the bottom of my heart. It didn’t matter what the others said. I still had allies. And Jackson was the most stalwart of them.

The rest of the day passed too quickly for my liking. Before I knew it, the clock had hit 6pm and I was being ushered out of the door. Cut off from the one thing that brought me joy for the next two weeks. I hadn’t even managed to send a roster out to the team, to make sure that they would be on top of things before I returned before Annie had gently coaxed me from the computer and escorted from the premises.

It was as if I had lost a limb.

Too morose to head back home, I decided that my best course of action was to head to the local pub. A good drink was just the right medicine for dismay and heartbreak. And Hell, I deserved it. For too long, I’d put up with training new staff (and my two nephews). It was good to finally let loose after a long while. Maybe, if I was lucky, Little Joe would also get some loving.

Spirits buoyed, I headed for the Gold Lion. Though not too close to the office, good food and a plentiful of beer on tap, it was one of the best places in the city for a man needing to drown his sorrows. Beyond that, it also had a warm atmosphere of camaraderie even if it could get a little rowdy at times as people crowded around the TV sets to cheer for their favourite teams.

The walk was a lazy fifteen minutes. Out in the fresh air, I was able to contemplate my choices for the next two weeks. My sister and, by extension, her husband, could not know that I had been placed under miscellaneous leave pending an investigation into false allegations of workplace harassment. Shaun would have a field day and I desperately did not want to give him the satisfaction. Somehow, over the next few days, I’d have to come up with a plausible excuse. Or simply head to the local café to while away the hours.

I walked into the pub and was immediately assaulted by the sounds of the pokies and their bright flashy lights. Several minutes later, I had checked in and had nabbed a spot at the bar. In one hand, I nursed a pint of beer and was taking a look around at the clientele present.

Given that it was the start of the working week and that the evening was still young, the Golden Lion was still almost empty. A few families had trickled in, regulars perhaps, or tourists. As well as a few couples looking for a place that was relatively cheap. One group of rowdy rabblerousers settled around a table not too far from me. With nothing better to do, I gave into curiosity, taking a peek over my shoulder.

Four men, roughly around their mid-thirties, and two women, who looked much younger and more naïve. One of them had long blonde hair, tied into a neat ponytail. The other had a dark curtain of brown. She had almond-shaped eyes and small button nose. A jolt went through me. I knew her.

Yet no matter how I wracked my brains, a name would not come. Maybe it was the three mouthfuls I’d already had, or maybe I was finally entering the age of dementia.

Nor could I rightly say where I knew her from. She could have been a new employee that I trained or one of the lovely ladies I had swiped left on because they were too young or we had dissimilar interests. After all, I’m not a monster or a paedophile.

Still, the question remained: what was she doing here? And with such company?

She was a tiny little waif. Barely a woman in almost every regard. The men, on the other hand, looked like common thugs, born on the wrong side of the tracks. Two wore high vis vests. Their work boots covered in white. One of them had a scar that ran down the left side of his face. Another was dressed casually in a loose white shirt and a pair of cargo pants. Built like a bruiser, he kept his hair cropped short. The last had high lace-up boots. Metal chains adorned his pants. On top, he wore a studded leather jacket.

As I took another sip of my drink, I decided that the most prudent course of action was to keep an eye on the girl. There was no telling what possible danger she might be in as the night wore on. Spiked drinks, unwanted attention, coercive demands…

The list went on. Of course, not all men would stoop so low.

But, as a representative of the chivalrous sex, it was imperative that I demonstrated the side that the media tended to gloss over when they covered stories on abuse and harassment. Better yet, it would prove how wrong the allegations made at work would be. God, if I could pull this off, I could waltz into Annie’s office and have my due recompense for the slander to my good name and reputation.

As the night wore on, the men seemed to get louder and bolder with their lewd remarks as their faces grew red with drink. By nine, they could barely say anything remotely intelligible.

Both the girl I knew and the blonde appeared to grow more uncomfortable as time passed. Their wines sat untouched on the table. As the conversation turned towards their personal lives, the brunette exchanged a glance with her companion before they headed off to the washroom.

In their absence, the men were eager to compare the two. I couldn’t hear much, given all the other additional noise in the pub. What little I did catch turned my stomach. I pitied anyone who would ever deign to date them. Let alone marry the fools. They were worse than Shaun. And that was saying something.

When the women returned, they still seemed somewhat uneasy and shy. The men, on the other hand, had changed on the dime, upping the charm. It was like watching an experienced horse trainer trying to calm a few jittery fillies by plying them with apples and sugar cubes.

Another hour or two passed and I was on my fourth drink. Where once it had soothed my restless spirit, the beer now tasted cold and sour on my tongue. I pushed it aside, unable to stomach any more of the swill. And, in all honesty, I should have gone home. Jen would be wondering where I was. Though I came home late every night, I’d never stayed out after eleven. Even if I had a very good reason to stay longer. I eyed the brunette, worried about what would happen when I finally abandoned my vigil.

It was all well and good to march up to the men and give them a piece of my mind. But I was no fool. Why start a fight I couldn’t win? Even in a best-case scenario, I’d be thrown out on my arse with a new shiner. Unless these men did something more overt, my hands were tied.

Just as I rose from my stool, so too did the women.

“It was very nice to meet you all,” said the brunette. “Natasha and I had a lot of fun.”

“Come on, stay a little longer. The night’s still young,” cajoled one of the men. He was on his fifth Heineken.

She smiled politely. “Thank you for the kind offer. Unfortunately, we both have an early start tomorrow.”

The one with the scar rose to his feet. “Well, if that’s the case, it would be wrong to let you go home alone. You must have heard the stories, right? Why don’t we walk you back to your apartment?”

“Oh no. I couldn’t impose,” said the brunette. “Really, it’s not necessary. We can call a cab.”

“Nonsense. It’s the right thing to do, right lads?” He was greeted by a chorus of affirmatives and leering grins.

A cold chill went down my spine as my hands curled into fists. It was as if the present faded away and I could see how the future would play out. After all, the way they had dressed – particularly the blonde with her plunging neckline – I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t. These two women needed a knight in shining armour to save them. Jen would understand. Annie too, for that matter.

I followed them, tottering a little on my feet. Perhaps I did have a little too much to drink.

Stepping out into the night, the air was cold and brisk. I was grateful for my wool lined coat, a present from my mother so long ago. All I wanted was a hot shower and then to sleep off the hangover that was already brewing. Scanning the streets, I caught a glimpse of blonde as it crested the hill. They were headed towards the bridge.

Hand tucked into pockets and with my collar turned upwards, I hurried after them – terrified I’d lose them.

Cars zoomed past along the bridge. Up ahead, the group had stopped halfway between one pool of light and the next. From where I stood, several metres back pretending to look at my phone, it was hard to make out what was going on. All I knew was that it wasn’t good.

As I had shadowed the group, making sure I maintained enough distance that it looked like I was just any other person on the streets out late at night., I had seen the men laugh and joke – hands reaching down low for a cheeky pinch on the bottom or a gratuitous grope.

Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. Why else would they have lingered in the darkness for so long?

A scream pierced the night.

Immediately, I was racing towards the group. My heart was thudding a million beats a minute in my chest. Was I too late? In my haste, I stumbled on an uneven part of the pavement. A curse flew from my lips as I regained my balance. When I looked back up, the men had their grubby hands on the blonde Natasha. She was thrashing in their grasp – fear evident in her eyes.

“Hey! What the Hell are you doing? Let her go!”

One of the men, the punk, glanced in my direction. “She wants it, mate. We’re doing her a favour, yeah? If you play your cards right, you can have your turn.”

It was just the distraction Natasha needed. She freed one arm, her palm shooting up to break the nose of a man in a high vis vest. He let go, swearing under his breath. By the time he realised where her knee was headed, it was too late. Within seconds, he was bowled over clutching his crown jewels.

She spat on him and gave him another kick in the stomach, her teeth bared into a vicious snarl.

“The cops are on their way,” I said. It was a wild bluff. I was hoping to scare the men rather than fight them on my own. “Stick around a while longer, you and your fellas will have to explain what you were doing with these lovely ladies on a bridge in the middle of the night.”

“S’not a crime!”

“Think that’s going to fly with the authorities?” I gasped. “Or in a court of law?” My lungs burned from the exertion and a stitch had formed in my side.

There was a moment’s heated debate among the men. “Fuck it. Getting some pussy ain’t worth that much trouble. Let’s go. We can always try another day.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when they left. Jogging, I joined up with Natasha and the brunette. “How are the two of you holding up?”

“Could have taken all of them without your help,” said Natasha. She was breathing hard was caked in sweat. Her mascara ran down her face in thick streaks. “Still, thanks for the assistance.”

“And your friend?”

Natasha nodded towards the bundle of a girl curled into a ball. “I should have listened to Siobhan from the start. But I thought that she was just being too high-strung. Siobhan has been trying to deal with an overbearing team leader. I keep telling her that there are other places she could apply for work but she said she’d feel guilty for letting the team down. First job, you know.”

As the name left her lips, realisation struck. She was the one that had only just started at the company not two weeks ago. I remembered her as a starry-eyed graduate that was prone to repeated and costly mistakes. Last Friday, I had pulled her aside for a private chat on her performance and what she could do to improve. I had thought she had taken it well. No complaints had passed her lips and her eyes had been dry when she left the meeting room.

Maybe I had been wrong.

I crouched down beside Siobhan. “Hey, you’re safe now. Let’s take you home, all right?” I gently reached for her arm.

As my fingers touched her skin, Siobhan flinched back. Brown eyes locked with mine but it was as if she didn’t recognise me. With a feral growl, she knocked my hand away. I rose to my feet and started to back away. Siobhan seemed to have none of that. She came after me, hounding me with pushes and prods.

It was as my legs hit the railing that I realised that we were still on the bridge. Siobhan came at me then, her hand curled back into a fist. In my attempt to dodge out of the way, I overbalanced and, pinwheeling, went over.

Wind roared in my ears as the world turned upside down. As I impacted the water, the pain and the cold robbed me of breath. Panic seized me. And it felt like the more I swam, the further the surface was. I couldn’t tell where I needed to go. It was as if I was stuck in place. The more I tried to resist, the more tightly I bound myself as I sank further into the depths of the river.

The cold was like an eldritch force that sapped what little strength I had.

It didn’t help that everything I had on me only served to make me sink like a stone. But while they were a burden, I could not simply let them go. These were important reminders of my life. Many contained precious memories. To abandon them would be like cutting off a limb. An impossible act.

The last of my air vanished into the dark waters of the river and I knew my life was forfeit.

Why had I allowed myself to be weighed down by other people’s opinions and expectations? Why had I put myself into a position of no upward momentum for my career? Did I need to put so much responsibility on my own shoulders? If I had trusted the others in my company, perhaps fewer mistakes would be made. By hovering over every new staff member like a mother hen, I had more than likely hampered any possibility of growth or deterred them from the company.

And what did it matter that mother had bought me the coat during the year she had died?

Yes, there was a sentimental value to it and it kept me warm. But it was also the tool of my own destruction. What was more important? That I held onto a worn piece of clothing for nigh on eight years or that I live?

The answer was clear.

With the last of my ebbing power, I shed the heavy coat and the boots that Jen had got me three Christmases ago. All the things that I had carried with me for so long, I threw away. Life was more important than a few material trinkets. I could always get more if I wanted to after I made sure I survived. Frantic, I chose a direction and began to kick.

As my lungs burned, I made a promise to God that if he saved me now, I would do everything in my power to change.

Darkness filled the edges of my vision and it was an effort to keep holding my breath when I needed air.

I wasn’t going to make it…

…

Breaking the surface, I gulped in as much air as I could. For the first time, I relished how sweet it tasted and put into perspective all the things I had simply taken for granted.

#short story #treading water

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paradoxicalca · 5 years ago

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r/hockey NHL Power Rankings Week 7: Spicy Edition

/r/Hockey NHL Power Rankings Week Nov 11, 2019 - Nov 17, 2019Thank YouThank you to all of the volunteers doing the power rankings. Each ranker has their own system and have their own reasonings and analyis. It truly is a lot of work.RankersSpoilerOrganizersSpoilerVisualizationThe visualization contains historical data, so you can see how your team has done over time. Hopefully, we can run this for many years in hopes that we can see the rise and fall of teams by /r/hockey opinion.It automatically updates so feel free to bookmark. You can find it hereProcessHow does this work? Throughout the course of the week rankers are able to access an app that will allow them to rank teams. At the end of the period we calculate the average ranking for every team and collate all of the analysis provided by rankers.The app then generates a post that is first proofread and then posted to /r/hockey!Rankings (29/31 Rankers Reporting)Ranking (avg)TeamDeltaOverall RecordRecord This WeekComments1 (1.34)Washington Capitals-15-3-42-1-1Best team in the league, full stop.2 (2.2)New York Islanders114-3-12-0-0The magic continues. Point streak of 14 games, of which 13 were wins. It looked in danger down 3-0 in Philly, but the guys who have been really hot, Barzal and Beauvillier, stayed hot bringing the Isles back. Brassard is playing amazingly on Nelson's wing, currently looking like the best signing across the league this past summer. Goaltending showed some signs of regression this week but the team still found a way to win. Ladd looks to have returned to full health, or at least as close as he can get anymore, but is in Bridgeport for the time being. Will be interesting to see if he makes his way up to the NHL or gets hurt before he gets the chance.3 (3.69)Boston Bruins-112-3-51-0-2Well, at least it's a point streak as the injuries mount up with Krug joining the IR and Bergeron not playing against the Caps. I hope Bruce made the team bagskate penalty shots until they scored 3 each on Halak and Rask. In Bruce's tenure as Head Coach, the team has a record 3-14 in shootouts. I can't fault the goalies either but it's pretty much a given that if you take the Bruins to a shootout, the other team will get the W. I'm not expecting miracles there but at least near 0.500.4 (5.63)St. Louis Blues-12-4-50-1-2The Blues have been winning a lot despite relatively poor play for a while now, and this week they finally had some down games. Just from the eye test, they look good but not good enough. If they don't rebound in the next week expect them to severely drop5 (6.03)Edmonton Oilers-13-6-31-1-1This team needs to make up its fucking mind. Blown out by the Sharks then blowing out the Avs then tossing away a victory with an OT loss against the Stars. The team still lives and dies on the Powerplay. Best Powerplay in the league, but nearly all the offence is produced through the Powerplay. The 5-on-5 play needs substantial improvement. The bottom six is a disaster. And then the reason we still lead the Pacific: Leon Draisaitl and Connor McDavid. WE ARE MERE MORTALS IN FRONT OF THESE GODS. Solid shout-out to Nuge, Klefbomb, Bear, Koskinen, Smith, Khaira and Nurse. 4 consecutive divisional games next week. If the Oilers do well here, they will continue to stand above the Pacific, but any faltering here and they will take a dive in this competitive division.6 (6.4)Colorado Avalanche-12-6-22-1-0Injuries yay! This week started off taking out Francouz and having us call up our 3rd and 4th goalies to play games. Also RIP Calvert hope he is ok. Adam Werner stole the show against the Jets, but he had a lot more trouble with McDavid and Drai. Bibeau was serviceable vs the Canucks, but we would love Grubauer or Francouz to get healthy, both are on the trip as we carry 4 goalies. The good news is the team looked good with solid chemistry and MacKinnon and Makar have just taken over. On the bad side the defense looks scattered and it doesn't help our young goalies. Next up is the second half of our Western Canadian trip and Saturday finishes with a Hockey night in Canada game against the Leafs in Denver. Makalder Watch: Cale Makar is amazing, on track for the best rookie season by a defenseman in decades. He had 6 points in three games with another Game winner against the Jets. His defense has also been getting better and better he had some great plays against the Canucks.7 (8.74)Carolina Hurricanes212-7-13-0-0Rob the Bod has the team back on track but the competition they faced wasn’t overtly difficult and they barely eked out wins against the Wild and Buffalo. For a team that is considered to have one the best overall defense in the league giving up a tying goal late each game is unacceptable.8 (9.23)Arizona Coyotes612-7-23-1-0The Yotes went 3-1 over the previous week, setting NHL history by becoming the first team to sweep the previous 2 Stanley Cup Champions in back-to-back games (of 69 potential times in history). The success is being driven by the rock-solid goal tending tandem in net, with Kuemper picking up a shutout over Calgary, and almost picking up a goalie fight as well. Defense has also been rock tight. It isnt consistently pretty, but this team is finding ways to win, taking 3 of 4 games this week (2 through the shootout).9 (10.77)Pittsburgh Penguins-111-7-21-1-1"I need to be fire," he said with a laugh. "I will be fire." This is Geno Malkin as we know him stepping up in the absence of Crosby who needed surgery and will be out for a couple months. Geno along with the rest of the walking wounded that is the Penguins lineup, struggled to finish their many chances in losses against the Rangers and Devils this week. The Pens controlled possession, got solid defensive efforts from the backend, and played tough and resilient for a team whose players are dropping left and right. Saturday the Penguins got their bounces and lit up the Maple Leafs unleashing the power of Geno’s fire straight to the seat occupied by Leafs coach Mike Babcock who got an earful from his home crowd. The Penguins are no strangers to playing without Sid, and with a continued effort to solid defensive hockey they will tread water until he can come back and lead the Pens into the playoffs once again.10 (11.29)Montreal Canadiens811-5-42-0-1After earning 5 of 6 points in an emotional week highlighted by a stunning road upset of the NHL-leading Capitals, the Habs cruise to the quarter-mile post in 2nd place in the fierce and unforgiving Atlantic division. They've done it with a high-octane and well-balanced offense that's been a nightmare to defend. Even slumps by Domi and Drouin haven't slowed the Habs down, thanks (in part) to Tatar's great start and Suzuki's emergence as the most exciting rookie east of the Rockies. If Price, Petry and Weber stay healthy this team could do some serious damage in the 2nd half. Keep in mind GM Bergevin has the cash (cap space), the credit (draft picks/prospects), and the biceps to make a major purchase at the trade deadline. This is a team to watch.11 (13.31)Dallas Stars1111-8-23-0-0Where has this team been hiding all season?? The stars seem to have suddenly figured how to do that hockey well.12 (13.34)Buffalo Sabres-210-7-31-1-1We are playing for a top pick right now. I can't honestly believe we beat Ottawa, let alone in regulation. This incredible trainwreck would be unfathomable in a vacuum, but given that this same sequence happened literally last year, I'm less shocked. If we don't have either Jack or Sam for any length of time, we can write this year off as a straight-garbage-fire loss. How many games has it been since someone other than them has scored? Our secondary scoring is so cold that if you lined Jimmy Vesey up in interstellar space, heat would flow from space into his body. We were first in the league!13 (14.03)Winnipeg Jets712-8-12-1-014 (15.09)Tampa Bay Lightning39-6-21-1-0Tampa looked amazing against NY, but meh against the Jets. Did a great job of capitalizing on PPs during the NY game, but went back to spending too much time in the box against Winnipeg.15 (15.74)Vancouver Canucks-310-7-41-1-1The Canucks went 1-1-1 this week, finishing off a four game home stand with a total of 3 points. Underlying numbers remain promising, but results are sporadic and it appears we are seeing the Canucks settle closer to what can be expected out of a young team. I've seen people discussing the DJ again, which usually says more about dissatisfaction with the on-ice product than it does about whatever cheesy tunes are being played. That said, the Canucks still potted 11 goals in their last 3 games, Hughes had 2 assist Saturday night, Demko remains solid (and at times brilliant), and the hockey is fun as hell for a bubble team. The power-play remains inconsistent, because this is ice hockey and nothing is consistent. After a too-good-to-be-true start, fans may need to re-calibrate expectations in order to enjoy the grind as the season wears on.16 (15.77)Nashville Predators-99-7-30-2-0Well this is the easiest blurb I've written in my time doing these power rankings: something is fucked with this team right now, and the fanbase is quickly turning against itself questioning what the problem is. Has Lavi lost the room? Is Pekka on the decline? Is the defense breaking down too much? Was Duchene worth it? What does it say that Bonino is our second leading goal scorer? Is our third D pairing holding us back? Is everyone just overreacting to a cold streak? What should our next banner say? I don't really have any answers, but I do know watching the last few games has not been fun. Also, we're currently on the outside looking in at 5th in the Central so that's cool I guess. Oh look, Chicago won another game so now we're 6th. Fuck.17 (16.43)Vegas Golden Knights-610-9-31-2-0The most recent win can't hide the fact that the Golden Knights were just in a 5 game winless streak. Underlying numbers suggested that the Knights are playing better than their record shows but blown leads, missed opportunities, and 3rd period collapses we're a theme during the team's slump. We'll see if the win against Calgary is a start of fixing those issues.18 (16.94)Philadelphia Flyers110-6-40-1-2I mean taking the top two teams in the league (Islanders and Caps) to the SO means we can Fly with the best of em. But losing in regulation to the Sens means that we can Die with the worst of em. We still need the veterans to step up a bit more, but the young guns have been doing well to keep us in games (TK, Lindblom, Hart). Also can the NHL STOP SETTING GAMES ON THE ONLY NIGHTS THAT I WORK LIKE COME ON GUYS I LIKE WATCHING HOCKEY TOO. Ted Talk over, Praise Gritty19 (17.49)Anaheim Ducks-310-9-21-1-1This season feels like a rerun. Looks like a losing home stand came 1 month earlier than last year. A poor effort against the oilers after 4 days off. Similarly poor effort against the wild. I don’t see the fight. I don’t see the ducks ready to start any game lately. Song of the week: Free fallin’ - Tom Petty and the heartbreakers20 (17.89)Florida Panthers110-5-52-1-0The Panthers had a fantastic comeback victory against the Bruins early in the week. They showed a lot of character and determination. This team doesn't quit when they get scored on and fall behind which is great because goaltending has been, let's put it nicely, garbage. Overall it was a good week with a rare regulation loss and win.21 (18.51)Calgary Flames-610-10-30-3-0Oof. The Flames scored 1 goals in 3 games this week, and conceded 12. They have not led at any point in about 220 minutes. In short... the Flames are a bad hockey team right now.22 (19.54)San Jose Sharks210-10-13-0-0The San Jose Sharks are 6-0-0 in the (2019-20) Radim Šimek era! In all seriousness, the team is looking much better than they did for the first ~15 games. The offence is getting more creative and it's showing, and the D has tightened up. I really like the line of Meier-Hertl-Goodrow and I hope PDB doesn't blend them too soon, and Kane-Cooch-Labanc have looked pretty good too. Karlsson and Vlasic have cleaned up their play since they've been together, and Šimek has really anchored Burns, which is exactly what we needed from him. The Sharks aren't out of the woods yet and there's improvements to be made, but we're playing much better than we have been. G23 (20.37)Toronto Maple Leafs-109-9-40-3-0The weather is getting colder, and the leaves are falling. Big time. After a rough start for the backup Hutchison v Chicago, he was waived on Monday and the Leafs called up Kaskisuo to backup Freddy Andersen. On Wednesday, the Leafs fell behind twice but only came back once, losing 5-4. Then, a 4-2 loss to Boston extended the Leafs losing streak to 4 games. This was further extended to 5 after Kaskisuo's NHL debut against the Penguins, as he got completely hung out to dry, as the Leafs got clobbered 6-1. Offensively, it doesn't look like there's much effort or care. Too many passes. Defensively, too many passes to the other team. It's bad. Be sure to check out r/leafs for any information you need about leaves!24 (23.54)Chicago Blackhawks29-7-43-0-0The Blackhawks beat the Golden Knights for the first time in franchise history. The Hawks are 5-0-1 since tweaking their system, scoring 4+ goals in each of those 5 wins. Kane has 8G, 9A and points in each of our last 9 games. Dach has 4G, 2A and points in each of our last 4. 5-on-5 goals by Hawks defensemen: 1 in our first 17 games, 4 in the last 3. The Hawks are 4-0-0 on the tail end of back-to-backs, thanks to an excellent goaltending duo.25 (24.94)New York Rangers-28-8-21-2-0Shitty week overall. Started off solid with a OTW against the Pens with Kakko scoring two goals including the overtime winner. After that, the Florida trip got real bad real fast. The Lightning blew us completely out of the water 9-3. Chytil scored two goals, but beyond that there wasn't too much good. In the game against the Panthers, Panarin attempted to carry us to a W singlehandedly, but we came up short. Hopefully once Zibanejad comes back, we'll find a little more consistency and we can pull out some more wins.26 (26.46)Columbus Blue Jackets-17-8-41-0-1"We are one god damn uptight team" - John Tortorella27 (27.37)Los Angeles Kings38-11-13-0-0The Kings had a perfect week- despite being against mostly low opposition. The lower half of the Pacific is getting spicy- although the Kings still sit at the very bottom.28 (27.4)New Jersey Devils17-8-42-1-0Suspicious shifty eyes * 2 wins in a row? All that did was probably buy Hynes more time before the inevitable. 3 games upcoming, Bruins, Pens, Red Wings. *The Good:** We won 2 games against decent opponents in the Pens and Habs, back to back, with Blackwood in net both games. Simmonds has 3 goals in the last 4 games and the goals seems to be coming in from all over the roster in general. The Bad: We dropped the game against the Sens and let Pageau walk all over us and get a hatty. Hall still isn't putting the puck in the net despite leading the team in points. His shooting percent has now fallen below 3%. The Ugly: Cory might as well not be rostered. He's played once since Halloween. His save% is 0.852, and his GAA is 4.59. It's really, really hard to watch the player who was the reason the Devils weren't the worst team in league for several years get hurt and completely fall apart post surgery. In a span where we've played 3 back to backs, Cory has played once and lost.29 (27.91)Ottawa Senators-18-11-12-2-0Another unexpectedly strong week. Even if the Sens did hand Eichel 4 goals on a silver platter on the 2nd stage of a back to back, they were still hanging in the game (albiet barely) right up until the final backbreaker goal. Beating the Flyers was also pretty huge. This team is starting to be defined by a "work insanely hard" culture which is exactly what we've been needing! Somehow we find ourselves closing in on the Leafs in the standings...I think most Sens fans would honestly rather have a high draft pick instead of making a playoffs push this year. Still, with the Sens looking less awful than expected and the Sharks on a winstreak thanks to Radim Šimek - the Czech god of the blue line - one must already wonder who will make it to the wildcard spots and what draft day is going to look like. Even with barely a quarter of the season played out.30 (28.8)Minnesota Wild-37-11-21-1-1The Wild aren't as good as they could be, and not as bad as they should be. The one thing that's been consistent over the years however is reigning as the league's worst 3-on-3 team, and it's not even close. Since the implementation of the arcade-style OT, Minnesota is a laughable 12-30. Translate those results over to the first 60 minutes and it's Lottery City baby!31 (29.8)Detroit Red Wings-7-12-31-0-2This is the worst Red Wings roster in some 30 years. A defense this week led by Dennis Cholowski(21) and Madison Bowey(24). Seriously read that again, that’s the first pair! Despite this, the Red Wings have finally made a return to playing the kind of games that makes any rebuilding team successful. Down to the wire, come from behind, and battling hard for each win even if they come up short. Andreas Athanasiou has picked up heat scoring a couple signature goals with his speed and quick hands. Larkin is still creating awesome chances and looks fantastic in the faceoff circle. This team actually does a great job in that department despite not capitalizing on many of the opportunities. Furthermore, the league worst PK has actually been getting extremely better in the last two weeks. While it sits at 70.6%, the last five games the Wings have killed 12/14 PP. Things are swinging back up for Detroit lets hope they can maintain this pace for more than two weeks. r/hockey NHL Power Rankings Week 7: Spicy Edition Source

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

Text

[SF] They Came From The Moon

Note: I don't care about the real-life details of the real event that's being reported on right now. This is my inspired take on it. Enjoy.

It all started when we went back to the moon. And now here I am, about to die. There’s not too many of us left, I don’t think. At this point, they’ve pretty well exterminated us. And they won’t stop until they get every last one of us. I’m certain of that. I’m surrounded now, and I’m not going to get away. There’s nothing I can do.

These damn things are indestructible. You can shoot them, stab them, bomb them, nuke them. And they just keep coming. The most indestructible creatures known to man. And to think they started out microscopic and insignificant.

Fucking tardigrades. Water bears. Moss piglets. Monsters.

Of course, it’s our own fault. These things were perfectly content, blissfully unaware, non-sentient little bugs who never hurt anything or anyone. Fine tuned over bazillions of years of evolution, the little bastards were perfectly adapted to, well, everywhere. Water, frozen and boiling, volcanoes, tropical rainforests, you name it. People say only cockroaches and twinkies would survive world-wide nuclear holocaust, but so would tardigrades. These things can live in the vaccuum of space for jebus’ sake.

At some point we decided it was a fan-fucking-tastic idea to shoot them off to the moon to “see what would happen.” Humans. Balls, we’re stupid sometimes. Not that our smartest minds could have foreseen the events that would happen to transpire a few decades later. At that time, it was no big deal. The tardigrades were dehydrated and cryo-frozen in epoxy, and sandwiched between plates of nickel. And then these plates - no larger than a DVD - were blasted off to the moon, where an Israeli ship crashed into the lunar surface. Oops.

Oh, and also sandwiched between those plates of nickel? Human DNA.

Human DNA and tardigrades. Together. Forever. Why you ask? Fuck knows.

And now here we are, a couple decades later, facing certain extinction. I don’t know if anyone knows how they became what they are - indestructible, slimy, 12 foot tall, sentient (REALLY fucking sentient) tardigrades. I don’t know, I’m not a scientist. Although now that I think of it, there very well may no longer be any human scientists around. So maybe I’m the closest thing to a scientist now. Maybe I’m the smartest human left on this monsterbug-infested planet. And I’m surrounded by them. Not so smart, I’m thinking.

What we do know is that a little over seven years after that initial tardigrade-dump on the moon, we went back for them. We always intended to of course. Scientists wanted to see how the lunar environment - weaker gravity, temperatures nearing absolute zero, the bombardment of radiation (so, SO much radiation) - would affect the biology and chemistry of those little shits, and apparently that of human DNA.

So these discs came back to Earth. A fully automated combination lander/rover/rocket blasted off from Kennedy Space Station in August, 2026. Space X’s latest and greatest at that time. It gently reverse-thrusted it’s way to the lunar surface 42 hours later. The rover unfolded itself from the lander rocket, set its 12 treaded wheels on the dusty, grey ground, and embarked on its mission. It took a little while, but eventually it made its way to a series of craters that upon first glance looked empty. But half buried and scattered throughout the two largest craters, were four DVD sized discs that the rover came for. Nothing else survived. No debris from the crash, no additional components. It was designed that way in case of a crash. You know, don’t contaminate alien worlds and all. Just the discs. Almost as if it was intended that way.

With the discs rounded up and safely stored away, the rover made its way back to the lander - now lunar rocket - and mechanically secured itself into a specially designed niche on the side of the ship. And off it went, right back to whence it came.

So they came back. Seemingly no different than when they blasted off the first time. NASA and Israeli scientists initially reported that the cryo-frozen tardigrades appeared to sustain very little, if any damage, and that they were still blissfully alivedead in their cozy little petri dishes. Re-hydrated, they went right back to their unassuming tardigrade ways, sucking nutrients from mosses and lichens through their face-holes and floating around lazily in saline solution. That’s the last I had heard back in the day, and hadn’t thought anything of it until the mushroom clouds appeared.

That was about two years ago, I’d say. I haven’t kept track. Maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less. It’s either late 2039 or early 2040 now. Winter. Only there’s no snow, there hasn’t been since last winter when nuclear fallout toasted most things and dried it to a crisp.

Those blasts killed most things. Not a whole lot of us survived. Not a whole lot of anything survived. But a few of us did. Cockroaches, and some people who had the wherewithal to shield themselves in time. And a few of us who can only chalk it up to dumb luck. I was out fishing when it started. Deep, deep in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. Considering packing it in for the day, fish-less, when I noticed the sky darkening and grey-green smoke rising between two peaks in the distance. Forest fire was the first thing that came to mind. Until the smoke quickly took a form that is unmistakable. As the mushroom-cap billowed upwards, I turned and ran. Had it not been for old crazy ass mountain man Liam, I’m sure I would have radiation puked myself to death within days or weeks.

That guy was a riot. And I mean, a machine gun totin’, bear trap loadin’, full blown lunatic of a man. The guy turned his small peaceful cabin and surrounding lands in the middle of nowhere into Fort Fucking Knox. That’s what he called it. Only he wasn’t guarding gold (maybe he was?), he was guarding himself. From them lib’ral snowflake soshulists comin’ for his guns. And his rights, he tells ya what.

So by a strange cascade of events that I don’t have time for here - mostly me runstumbling through the brush - I found my way to Liam’s bunker. More like, he found me. At gun point. The man, staring at me down the barrel of a Kalashnikov; greasy, stringy white hair flowing from under a disgusting old red trucker cap with worn once-white lettering on the front. I couldn’t make the words out, but it looked familiar from a time long ago. I thought I could vaguely make out the phrase “...GREAT AGAIN.” After much deliberation I was successfully able to convince him that indeed I was NOT one of them soshulist motherfuckers. I told him our govmint turned on us and were nukin’ us goddammit. I had no idea what was going on, I had to tell him something.

Liam’s place - Fort Fucking Knox - happened to come equipped with a state of the art nuclear fallout bunker. Of course it did. One of those they sold in mail order catalogs back in the 1950s. Better than duck-n-cover. So we holed up for a while. We ate a shit load of baked beans. Luckily, Liam preferred to keep to hisself and for the most part, that’s what he did. We listened to the chatter on his shortwave receivers, which is how we came to understand - mostly - what was happening. Liam didn’t keep TeeVee, or internet, or satellite. Just his goddamn CB radios. Probably a good thing, because I’m pretty sure these things would have found us sooner if he wasn’t so goddamn paranoid. They were smart. Very smart.

Not a whole lot more to report, honestly. Some time has passed, and Liam dies from some shit. No idea what. One day he just wouldn’t wake up. For the best though, I was gonna kill him soon if he hadn’t. I couldn’t take any more of his conspiracy theories, or his baked beans.

Over time the chatter on the CB radios went quiet. They were all getting found. I even listened to a couple good ol’ boys broadcast their own terrifyingly gruesome deaths. The Water Bears found them. It didn’t take long, they found them all.

Now, the bunker is surrounded. I have guns - Liam’s guns - and I have explosives. I have actual hand grenades. I’ve been out of the bunker a bit these last couple weeks, I don’t think the radiation is too bad, I’m only puking once every couple days or so. I’ve taken guns out looking for things to shoot. No animals anywhere, no birds chirping, not even a cricket.

And that’s how I fucked up. You see, I was out looking for anything to eat besides baked beans, when I rounded a group of huge boulders. And I saw it. That thing. It was huge, at least as big as the largest boulder I was standing next to. At first it didn’t know I was there, and it was preoccupied with something I couldn’t see. Then it froze. And much quicker than it had any right to, based on its fleshy marshmallow man contours, it half-twisted around to face me. It’s alien face - is it a face? - staring directly at me. The bung that is it’s mouth/face-hole slowly puckering in anticipation.

We stood there frozen for many milliseconds. Then I acted, pulling Liam’s only AR-15 around and semi-automatically squeezing off as many rounds into its pudgy rice pudding torso as I could. More rounds. I was on my ass on the ground now, the assault rifle having knocked me over. But I kept shooting. It folded in, like a roley-poley and collapsed face-down. I could see brown green goo dripping from the exit wounds on its reverse side. Thankfully, no one came and took away Liam’s guns.

Then they slowly, but surely, closed up. The wounds. They healed right before my eyes, and the thing started to tremble and move. I took off. As fast as my aging knees would let me, I stumbled back through the wild, crashing through the steel barbed front gate of Fort Fucking Knox. I didn’t stop until I was down in the bunker, locked from the inside.

That was two days ago - I think. Not like I’ve slept, and I’ve stopped looking at the clock. I’m not even sure what time or day it was when I got back to the bunker after shooting that thing. I knew, of course, that they were indestructible. I heard as much from the handhelds. Guns, bombs, nukes. Apparently, we (the govmint) retaliated by shooting nukes at Canada. This after the bugs already nuked Canada and most of the rest of the world. Wasn’t much left of ‘Mercia then either. But we still had our nukes.

They wanted to see if we could nuke those bastards. Because perhaps our nukes were better than those Russian nukes that already gave their college-try. Apparently not. Or if the nukes did get ‘em, more just came in their place.

Fucking machetes. One good ol’ boy hacked one up with a machete. Then as he was proudly broadcasting his victory on channel 13.5, the thing got him.

And now, here I am. Surrounded. I know I am, because I’m watching them on the closed circuit monitors. I’m going to die. Not sure if today, or tomorrow, or when, but I’m going to die. At least I’m in the bunker. I’m certain they can’t get in here. Reinforced concrete and steel. Underground. So I’ll just watch them, LEARN them. For my own edu-ma-fuckin-cation. I’ll eat these beans, though I’m only seeing about half a dozen more cans. I’ll drink whatever water is left, also not much. And then I’ll die. Either I’ll starve or die of thirst, or maybe I’ll rig up this whole damn place and blast myself and them to kingdom come. Or just myself. I turned around and puked into an old stainless steel turkey fryer.

I guess we’ll just see what happens. You know, it’s a bit ironic, don’tcha think? For decades now people have been freaking out over the climate changing. Me too. Now I’m in a bunker in the middle of a wasteland. And we didn’t even do THAT shit. People have been freaking out over viruses - these “super bugs”. The flu is goddamn scary these days, for sure. People die from that. At least, they did. Super bugs. Ain’t that some shit. I’m looking at the real Super Bugs right now, in all their closed-circuit, black and white, low resolution glory.

Fucking Tardigrades. Tardigrades from the fucking moon. And yes, we did that shit.

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